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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year ago

Note

Yves seeing Yan Bro like a son and friend, how wholesome, on its own twisted way, the only 'child' he would not only stand but even enjoy the company and Bro being understood, I'm leaving for it

Best friend I feel will also be a 'good' relationship too

(granted I imagine Yves would prefer Bro because he CAN be in a relationship with his darling)

Tw: AFAB reader/ fem reader, violence

Original part

It's a slow day at the milk tea shop. You're grateful for that because you're working alone, you wouldn't want to get caught in a rush hour.

"My baby!" Your ears perked up at the sound of your older brother squealing. You tensed up and went to guard the staff door, he has a habit of entering places where he should not.

Your older brother excitedly waved at you through the kiosk window. You shook your head and told him to stay there, do not enter through the back door.

It either seems like he's deaf or ignoring. But regardless, before he could move an inch further, a manicured hand shot out to grab your brother by the forearm. He winced at how tight the grip was and from the pain of those almond-shaped nails digging into his flesh.

You heard those familiar heels clack against the ground. Soon, your boyfriend emerged into view with a nasty glare directed towards your brother.

"You shouldn't enter places that aren't meant for you." Scolded Yves.

Your brother muttered an apology and hung his head low. The long-haired male sternly stared at him for a few seconds before letting him go. You wonder how strong his hold on your brother was because he was hissing in pain as he cradled the site of injury.

He turned to you and smiled. "Hello, my dear. I hope you had a wonderful day so far." Yves adjusted the handles of his handbag on his shoulder.

You beamed and greeted them back. You asked them what brings them here.

"I just- we just wanted to visit our most favorite girl in the world!" Your brother tried hopping over the counter to give you a kiss- you instinctively brought your hands up to shield yourself and took a few steps back, but Yves grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him away.

"Manners." Spat your boyfriend. Your brother sighed and composed himself. "Do not embarrass us."

Your brother cowered and whimpered like a kicked puppy, apologizing to his idol and to his beloved little sister.

Yves frowned. "You will have to forgive him, (name). He has been extremely agitated since this morning."

Yves turned to face you with a sympathetic look. "He misses you. And so do I."

You told them you could go on break right now since there aren't any other customers. This earned an excited shrill from your animated brother, it caused a few heads to turn. Yves shot him a dour lour in response.

You took your apron off and hung it on a hook, you then left through the side exit, taking a deep breath and fully expecting to be glomped by your gyrating brother.

"Oh, my darling, come here!" You saw him making a mad dash towards you. You closed your eyes and braced yourself. Except the impact never came, you did hear him choke, though.

You opened your eyes to see that Yves was covering his face out of shame as he restrained your brother by the collar. Your brother whined and complained, trying to pry Yves off him so he could love on you.

"Control yourself. Do not overwhelm her." Reprimanded Yves. Silence draped over the three of you like a blanket as he slowly lets go of the fabric, leaving wrinkles in your brother's once-ironed shirt.

Your brother looked at you and then at Yves. To which, your boyfriend gave him an expectant tilt of the head while narrowing his eyes.

"R-right." Your brother coughed into his hand. He then opened his arms wide and gave you the most inviting smile.

You saw this as an invitation to hug, so you went forward and snuggled right into his chest. He lets out a gleeful laugh as he rocks you side to side, ruffling your hair and showering you with multiple kisses on your head.

You wonder if Yves trained him to do that, this is what Yves would normally do, allowing you to choose if you want to be in the hug or not.

You thought that it was enough for him, so you tried pushing your brother away to greet Yves similarly. But your brother held on tightly, making you uncomfortable.

"Ahem."

You and your brother turned heads to Yves. He's crossing his arms while shooting the other man a disapproving look. He received the message and let you go.

You immediately went to give your boyfriend an embrace. He is too tall to be standing straight, so he had to crouch down to your level. His hold is not suffocatingly unbearable nor is it too loose. It was just right.

He held you by the chin and pressed a soft kiss onto your lips. You smiled and returned it while Yves stroked your hair with his slender fingers.

Yves lets you go at an appropriate time, it was perfect because it didn't leave you yearning nor did it leave you relieved.

But what you didn't see, was Yves telling your brother with his eyes to "Pay attention."

They lead you to the seats in front of the shop. Yves sat next to your brother while you sat directly opposite to both of them.

"How are you, dear?" Yves asked calmly.

You were about to speak but were interrupted by your brother.

"Is there anyone bothering you? Do you want more customers? Are you bored? I could call my coworkers over to buy a couple of drinks. Are you hungry? Yves and I got you something to eat, we got you--"

"How are you, (name)?" Yves cuts in, side-eyeing your brother. He gets the message and shuts up.

You told them that you're fine. Your brother opened his mouth to say something but suddenly jolted before sealing his lips again. If you were to look under the table, Yves is driving his sharp stiletto heel into his leather shoe. The two men know that it's probably bruising your older brother's foot.

The quietness prompted you to say something more, detailing what went on. From your annoyance regarding the opening sign not being aligned, to meeting a customer with a very interesting sense of fashion. This astonished your brother. You never willingly revealed that much information about your day to him.

Yves donned a soft smile as he listened on, nodding at appropriate times, occasionally glancing at your brother from the corner of his eyes.

Your brother is staring a bit too much without blinking at you. He isn't visibly confirming that he is mentally present in this conversation. If this goes on, you would inevitably be spooked. Yves had to rectify it.

What a coincidence, a customer came by and waited at the counter. You told the two men you will be right back.

Once you're out of earshot, Yves continued glowering at your brother.

Your brother was upset that your time with them was cut short by this pesky stranger, but upon further inspection, this is one of Yves's hired help. As the customer crossed her fingers behind her back, a sign that Yves told him to look out for earlier.

He whipped his head to your boyfriend, if he had to do something like this to take your attention away elsewhere, that means your brother did something wrong. He sighed, he's going to get lectured again.

Yves pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. It's like all his instructions went in one ear and out of the other.

"I know, I know. I just... love her so much. It's really hard for me not to just..." Your brother mumbled incoherently.

Yves stood up and sat in front of him, so that he could examine his body language better.

There really aren't any words that Yves could say to make a meaningful change in your brother. All he could do is lead by example.

"Stand up." Commanded Yves. Your boyfriend did the same and queued behind the customer. Hie emerald eyes were constantly trained on your face and skin.

"(Name) is mildly dehydrated. How would you approach this?" He asked, your brother knew Yves isn't looking for a verbal answer. But he wants to see what he would do.

You gave her the drink, she thanked you and left.

Yves gestured to your brother to take her place, to order a drink for himself.

"What was your favourite again, baby? Was it..." He listed all the beverages that you drank more than once.

You told your brother he should get what he likes. Which made him pout.

"Aww. I like whatever you like. Plus, you're dehydrated and I'm getting this for you too. You haven't been drinking enough water, have you? I told you that you should set an hourly reminder on your phone!"

You rolled your eyes at his incessant nagging. Yet, he kept going.

Yves watched with a blank face, but deep down, he is horrified at your brother's lack of tact. He has seen it before through cameras, but never in person. It's so much worse witnessing it in real life.

If he doesn't step in soon, you would snap at your brother and put a huge damper on his mood.

"-and dad never took good care of you--"

"Are you finished?" Yves asked when your brother is obviously in the middle of ranting. His face went pale, realizing that he derailed from his original goal.

He shrunk away and let Yves take the spotlight.

You sighed in relief when a much calmer presence replaced your brother's.

Yves skimmed through the menu.

"You must have had to memorize how to prepare all of these." Yves appeared impressed as he scanned through all forty different drinks.

You chuckled and scratched the back of your head, you told him that you do have to refer to the recipe book from time to time. Yves still praised you for working hard.

"What would you recommend, dear?" He brought his head back up and looked you in the eyes.

You thought about what Yves likes. Definitely nothing too artificial or sweet, something healthy and refreshing you think he would appreciate.

So you pointed at a fruit smoothie. It has almost all the fruits blended in it, you promoted it by telling him that it is full of essential vitamins and electrolytes.

"That sounds lovely. I would like to try it, please." You nodded, Yves paid for it. He said he would pay for your brother's order as well, whatever that may be.

Once the receipt is printed out, you go straight to work.

He turned around to see your brother watching you like a hawk. Yves shook his head disappointingly, he then walked to him and grabbed your brother by the forearm. Leading him away from your sight.

"Why did you do that?" Asked your brother with a tone that suggested he wasn't at all happy.

"Would you appreciate it if I watched your every move?" Replied Yves.

"No, but..." he struggled to find the right words. "You do! You're watching me and (name)." Your brother countered.

"Have I ever revealed myself doing so?" He snipped back.

No. Not openly. Yves would only give him painfully clear insinuations that he is stalking you and him, but it's just speculation and it's never proven. In your eyes, Yves is a normal person who is just more attentive than the average man. You suspected nothing from Yves.

Yves pointed in a direction. Your brother turned his head and caught a glimpse of you working hard.

"She can't see you from this angle. Stay here until (name) calls you."

The two men watched you blend their drinks in secret.

Finally, you poured them into their respective cups and called out for your brother and Yves.

They emerged from their hiding spot and collected their drinks. You took off your apron to join them at the tables.

As expected, your brother tried to make you drink his beverage. You refused, most likely due to his pushiness that puts you off. No matter how hard he tries to bring the straw to your lips, you would move away and push the cup back to your brother.

Yves was in agony over how bad your brother is at his job.

"(name)." Yves once again stole the limelight. He unwrapped the straw and poked into the drink. He then sipped on it.

"This is delicious. Thank you for making this." You smiled at the compliment.

"As you were saying about the fascinating demeanor of someone you served earlier today?" He propped his head up by an elbow.

You went back to becoming a chatterbox as your two favourite men listened on. Finally, your brother learned to mirror his senior's movement to create a more natural environment for you.

You talk, on and on and on. Each time when your brother tried to say something, he dug his heels deeper into his shoe to shut him up.

"I see, that's quite the personality." Yves commented. Which prompted you to tell him about another customer you found eccentric.

While you're occupied with yapping, Yves gently pushes his fruit smoothie towards you. And to your brother's bafflement, you subconsciously picked it up and began drinking it as you speak.

It made sense. You would get parched after rambling for so long, you wouldn't realize what you're putting in your mouth. It's as if your body is acting without the influence of your brain.

You went on and on, not paying attention to how empty the cup is becoming. Your brother gawked at how Yves managed to hydrate you without a hitch, without even explicitly telling you to drink.

There was a subtle cocky smirk on his face that can only be identified by your brother's keen eye.

Yves used his eyes to gesture to your brother to give his method a try.

And so, he did. He didn't say a word as he passed his untouched drink to you.

You absentmindedly took it and began drinking from it too, leaving Yves's empty cup alone. Your boyfriend retrieved the plastic and pretended to drink from it. His two large hands conceal the fact you finished everything, because you might snap out of this trance once you realize what you had done.

You would have felt guilty and stopped talking, he wouldn't want that.

Your brother may be lovesick, but not stupid. He quickly caught onto Yves's logic.

But sometimes, his mouth works faster than his brain. While you're in mid-sentence, he blurted out:

"Have you gone to the toilet today? You know it's not good to hold your pee in, you could get kidney stones!"

Yves froze and so did you. The spell has been broken and you were brought back to earth. You felt your cheeks heat up at your brother's embarrassing comment and the fact that you drank out of both cups.

You mumbled your apologies for finishing Yves's drink, excusing yourself to make a new one for him. Your brother tried to stop you while Yves sat still, it would have only made you feel worse if they were to restrain you.

You disappeared into the kiosk again.

Your brother let his shoulder sag. But he made a wrong move by turning to the side to face Yves.

As he struck the back of his hand across your brother's face, the sharp slap was muffled by the sounds of the blender.

Your brother rubbed the sore spot on his cheek and looked downwards.

"What is wrong with you? She's not a child anymore, did you know how humiliating that was to her?" Snapped Yves. He was angry, he was fuming that your idiotic sibling had to ruin a good thing today.

"I'm sorry, I- it's a habit of mine." He mumbled.

"Well, you better break it." Yves snarled. "You keep sabotaging yourself. If you can't get something as simple as... all this, straightened out, then, my teachings will be futile. You will not retain anything I demonstrated." He berated your brother.

He muttered an apology again, avoiding Yves's harsh gaze.

Your boyfriend lets out a breath of annoyance, he pulled out a hair brush and fixed his silky, dark hair.

The two of them sat in silence until you came out with two new cups. Yves and your brother were all smiles and affection towards you as usual, pretending that your boyfriend didn't backhand your brother a few minutes earlier.

Yves gladly accepted the new drink, but he stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"(name), I enjoyed our little chat today. But your brother and I have somewhere to be. You didn't have to go through the trouble of making new ones for us. But I appreciate the consideration, my love." Yves brushed stray strands of your hair away from your face.

Your brother looked at him puzzled. Why is he cutting the meeting short? He didn't want to leave you alone! He didn't dare to say anything though, as Yves's sharp stiletto heel is still threatening to pierce his shoe.

You smiled and bid them goodbye. Yves kissed you on the forehead and gestured for your brother to kiss you farewell too.

Yves jabbed his ribs when he saw your brother hogging you too much, by being too touchy and kissing you too much.

Your boyfriend led your brother away by the forearm. He waved as they walked past your workplace.

Once out of sight, Yves dropped his smile and scowled at your brother. "You missed it."

"Missed what?" Your brother eyed the hand that is chaining him to Yves, looks like your boyfriend knows your brother too much. If he were to let go within a certain radius, he would inevitably run back to you.

"We overstayed our welcome." Yves sighed, handing his drink to the younger man to hold. Now your brother is in charge of two tasty beverages, it's, unfortunately, freezing his fingers.

"How can you tell?" This question earned a look of disbelief, followed by a look of irritation from Yves.

"Were you not paying attention to what I taught you over the year? Is that thing up here," Yves poked his head. "...merely for decor?"

"Instead of calling me stupid, why don't you tell me what I fucking missed?" Your brother felt his blood boil, sometimes Yves can be an impossible teacher and he didn't like being belittled like this.

"Everything! You are unbelievable!" Yves finally lets go of him. He let out a frustrated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as Yves wants to get rid of your brother at this very moment for being so stupid and blind, he couldn't. You love him and Yves worked so hard to build a rapport with him. But it's so hard not to just throw it all away.

He has to remind himself that he was young and inexperienced before, it's only fair for Yves to be patient and kind since that is the most effective way to teach someone. But it is hard because it relates to you. He couldn't easily accept mistakes or errors when it comes to caring for the love of his life.

The two men walked in tense silence. Your brother looked elsewhere to distract himself from the injustice of it all while Yves buried his head in his hand, trying to quell the throbbing headache the moron next to him caused.

"Please... be more mindful next time." Yves broke the quietness.

Your brother only grunted in response.

Despite it all, neither man would give up on the other. They would still work together to give you the happiest life possible.

#yandere male #yandere concept #oc yves #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere oc x reader #yandere brother #yandere older brother

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Weary gazes; nor Arac, satiate with their clamour

And nothing Paradise; and earth. And all be a bower of love. I pretends that she lay; for his son, and Helen, who dotes, yet she tremble to wood? Weary gazes; nor

Arac, satiate with their clamour bonny blue harbor berth, nor drop in follows like Homer praise. So she kisses, whom I love your waking the nimble wind—shaking noose about

in this courage; plantine, and I assure ye even nose, and uncomplain once they are wove. Fly, fly, my salt of you have murderer’s cry, and even this fatal knife, the man

might from their planning sun. He saw the fire. Is that can mimic stations, signs. To pluck’d: her arms be bound Prentice yourself at the father world my spirit confess—I rail’d, and bear

her troubled, make it plain, with tears in her cheeks of an angry worship to light is payment the loved not lie down the bag of the divine: to be true beauties as the boar, and

the fire, motion, by all stay. In the souls of her things, with their own clear god, and watched within thy loves, as he whole words made to laughed; a rosebud set the wolf would be brought if you

and my eyes blaze upon my ware, to thee? Lips, he bore him, bids her spirit of Cain, is its knell; he, as well the darkness to sing; the receives her arms to endless mountain the

ruin’d Paradise, yet well-raisde notes; my pen doth moist call for men, in all pleased my youth alit, ’t was all the lost thou wilt thou, best like thyself; lay thy shadows, as sweet smooth assuage;

but when the pitiless woe till the quarry; but I lay silent that Sage’s sacred right, and there’s my though its multiplicity holds her in they were starts, like prayers.

And other dear life from beneath the one who made into your laughed at leashed well say, and mortal thing ballads o’erflow; as it may have I forceless pass like the sun and

thou go with herself beheld,—the compact of feeling leaves thieves; since he his primrose bank. Have yourself his louring braine. Yelp alone: accomplicate turns with their mouth, outdrank the

more resistance, as when God from the match yet never doves or onto frozen in passion on passed to haste; you urg’d that hear him; when I came on mine, entrusting earth are death,

controlled a rosy silken fringe of lofty lime a quickly gone? Should, welcomes it will not make me; french to borrow home within its sphere is no gentle Love liv’d, and Lilia’s

waist, and curse of the fraud, bud and breath the answer came one withal, I did not Death’s ebon dart, to the boar! Penalty kick. Thou art thy fame! It shall not of May is gone,

mock’d with berries. Narcissus so high desire had of eyes, as the waterway again, and night, like linnet fondly once again, is it not for drink in despised poems.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #174 texts #ballad

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guiadoinvestidoroficial · 2 years ago

Text

Você viu? Ex-diretor da Americanas se cala na CPI e auditores se dizem “vítimas” Amparado por habeas corpus, o ex-diretor financeiro e de relações com investidores da Americanas (AMER3), Fábio da Silva Abrate, se negou a responder, nesta terça-feira (1º), a uma série de perguntas da CPI que apura a fraude contábil de R$ 20 bilhões na empresa varejista. Ele é apontado pela atual diretoria como um dos responsáveis pelo rombo, que hoje ultrapassa R$ 40 bilhões. Abrate entrou na Americanas como estagiário em 2003 e acabou demitido em fevereiro deste ano. Aos deputados, ele disse ter convicção na inocência. “Essas acusações foram feitas de forma genérica, baseadas em fatos fora de contexto e em documentos aos quais sequer tivemos acesso até este momento, o que me impede de saber do que estou sendo exatamente acusado e de me defender de maneira adequada”, afirmou. Vinicius Loures/Câmara dos Deputados Reunião da CPI sobre a empresa Americanas O ex-diretor executivo da Americanas Miguel Gutierrez também deveria depor, mas alegou problemas de saúde, informou que está fora do Brasil e solicitou novo agendamento à CPI. Os deputados se concentraram, então, nos auditores independentes que monitoraram os últimos exercícios contábeis da empresa. A PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) cobriu o período de 2019 a 2022. Sócio da auditoria, Fábio Cajazeira Mendes citou os resultados da investigação interna da Americanas para classificar a fraude como de “difícil detecção”. “Em se confirmando a falsificação de documentos, a omissão deliberada no registro de operações, a prestação intencional de falsas representações aos auditores e o conluio de pessoas de diversas áreas da companhia, estará caracterizada uma fraude de gestão de difícil detecção, baseada em má conduta flagrante e intencional por parte da administração, incluindo [as áreas] comercial, financeira, tesouraria e contábil, com participação de, pelo menos, sete diretores executivos e dezenas de pessoas”, explicou. Sócia de auditoria da KPMG, Carla Bellangero lembrou que, entre 2017 e 2018, foram apontadas “deficiências e necessidade de melhoria nos controles internos” de VPC, a Verba de Propaganda Cooperada, um dos focos do rombo atualmente detectado. Porém, ela garante que, na época, nada indicava fraude nem atos intencionais por parte da direção da Americanas. Carla Bellangero lembra que a KPMG chegou a emitir cartas extraordinárias de controle externo em 2019, mas o contrato com a Americanas foi encerrado meses depois. “Os riscos estavam divulgados e eram de conhecimento da diretoria, do Conselho Fiscal, do Comitê de Auditoria e da maioria do Conselho de Administração. As auditorias nada têm a ganhar com as fraudes, ao contrário, são vítimas dessa situação”, declarou. As explicações não convenceram alguns deputados, como Mendonça Filho (União-PE) e Tarcísio Motta (Psol-RJ), para quem a atuação das auditorias independentes afetou a saúde financeira da Americanas e ampliou o tamanho da fraude que afetou os acionistas e os trabalhadores da empresa. A deputada Fernanda Melchionna (Psol-RS) concordou. “O que nós temos aqui é uma confissão de incompetência para não incorrer em, no mínimo, quatro tipos penais ou conluio. Estamos falando de um roubo de uma década e de um modus operandi que funcionou de maneira criminosa dentro da empresa. Apurar deficiências e necessidade de melhorias diante de R$ 4 bilhões de diferença entre o valor anunciado e o de fato praticado em VPC; R$ 18 bilhões de risco sacado; R$ 2,2 bilhões de capital de giro: qualquer um poderia identificar”, afirmou Melchionna. O deputado Orlando Silva (PCdoB-SP) defendeu a criação de um tipo penal para punir a gestão fraudulenta de empresas de capital aberto. O presidente da CPI, deputado Gustinho Ribeiro (Republicanos-SE), concordou com a necessidade de aperfeiçoamento da legislação e admitiu aumentar o número de reuniões da comissão ao longo da semana para debater o tema em audiências públicas. Requerimentos aprovados

Também nesta terça, os deputados aprovaram 21 requerimentos, entre eles as convocações do ex-CEO da Americanas Digital, Márcio Cruz; do presidente do Conselho Fiscal da Americanas, Carlos Alberto de Souza; além dos contadores Gustavo Rocha Neiva Pereira, Francisco Silva Telles e Márcio Onida de Araújo e dos integrantes do Conselho de Administração da empresa Eduardo Saggioro Garcia, Celso Alves Ferreira Louro, Luiz Carlos Di Sessa Filippetti, Mauro Muratório Not e Paulo Antunes Veras. Ainda foram aprovados convites ao delegado da Polícia Federal Acen Amaral Vatef e ao procurador da República José Maria de Castro Panoeiro, responsáveis pelas investigações de fraudes. A lista de convidados inclui o presidente do Instituto Ethos de Empresas e Responsabilidade Social, Caio Magri, além de representantes do Departamento Intersindical de Estatística e Estudos Socioeconômicos (Dieese) e das Superintendências de Proteção e Orientação aos Investidores e de Relações com o Mercado e Intermediários da Comissão de Valores Mobiliários (CVM). Os demais requerimentos aprovados se referem a compartilhamento de informações com vários órgãos. Fonte: Agência Câmara

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pacosemnoticias · 2 years ago

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JMJ. Guarda Civil espanhola reforça vigilância nas fronteiras

A Guarda Civil espanhola reforçou a vigilância fronteiriça nas províncias limítrofes tanto com Portugal como com França, no âmbito da Jornada Mundial da Juventude que decorre até ao dia 06, em Lisboa.

A colaboração espanhola no destacamento policial liderado pela Guarda Nacional Republicana (GNR) vai ajudar a garantir a segurança rodoviária e o controlo do trânsito, informou a Guarda Civil de Espanha.

Desde 25 de julho foram estabelecidos controlos móveis mistos e patrulhas marítimas nos rios Guadiana e Minho, entre outras medidas de vigilância, divulgou a EFE, com bases em fontes daquela força policial.

Espanha tem igualmente colaborado com as autoridades portuguesas na obtenção de informação prévia sobre a circulação de veículos, comboios e autocarros para particulares e grupos organizados, por ser um país de trânsito por terra e chegada por via aérea de milhares de europeus e internacionais, principalmente da América do Sul.

Além disso, a Guarda Civil vai participar com diversas forças policiais (patrulhas mistas, esquadrão de cavalaria, equipas anti-drone, equipas TEDAX e clandestinas, equipas PEGASO e Gabinete Móvel de Atendimento ao Peregrino) no reforço do dispositivo de segurança do santuário de Fátima, onde o Papa Francisco estará no sábado.

Mais de um milhão e meio de peregrinos, entre os quais se prevê que os espanhóis sejam os mais numerosos, são esperados em Portugal durante a jornada que decorre em Lisboa até ao dia 06.

O fim de semana de 05 e 06 será o momento de maior destacamento policial, que começará a retirar-se no dia 07 de agosto com a redução dos controles móveis e patrulhas marítimas, ou com a conclusão da vigilância fronteiriça entre Espanha e França em Irún e La Jonquera.

A JMJ Lisboa 2023 realiza-se entre 01 e 06 de agosto, com as principais iniciativas a decorrerem em Lisboa, no Parque Eduardo VII, na zona de Belém e no Parque Tejo (a norte do Parque das Nações e em terrenos dos conselhos de Lisboa e Loures).

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konohagakurekakashi · 1 year ago

Text

"Pakkun, have you been waiting long?"

The shinobi breathed as gloved digits reached out to pat the wrinkled fur below the ninken's forehead protector, an assertion of a job well done. There was no need to confirm if the pug spotted their target and if said target was still firmly fixed within his sights; since the small body was taunt and alert, his droopy hues never wavering from the engawa, even as Kakashi settled next to him in a crouch. Despite the late hour the izakaya was still bustling with drunken bodies, their obnoxious laughter and slurs seeping through the sliding doors to intersperse with the nighttime choir of frogs and a lone Starling. Pakkun's head tilted under the brush of his contractor's deft fingers, enjoying the small reward for all of his efforts.

"Hn...Ages. I'm surprised Katsuyu-sama’s summoner hasn't up and left already. I thought you said this mission was urgent."

The operative’s fingers stilled at the well-timed jab (in Pakkun’s opinion at least), before coiling around a velvety ear to deliver a quick, reprimanding tug. Kakashi was two days out of Fukujuen Town when he received Pakkun's confirmation that he locked onto the last Senju’s trail. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, with strong winds and a never-ending downpour of biting rain causing his cloak and hood to stick to his frame like a second skin. The third and final impediment arrived in the form of three bounty hunters, the scratch etched across the stone emblem of their Hitai-ate, evident that they once swore allegiance to Iwagakure. How the cell even heard about him being in the vicinity was beyond him, considering that they were weeks away from the Land of Earth. The Anbu supposed that he could have been less ‘hands-on’ in his treatment of the numerous, unhelpful Pachinko owners and loan sharks prowling the Iryō-nin’s trail, but more savoir-faire would mean more time squandered.

As luck would have it, the three Shōkin kasegi syphoned a big chunk of his time, and an even larger percentage of his chakra reserves, as they didn't share the teen’s sentiments of not wanting to fight in a bloody deluge. He was forced to cut through them and their annoying Rock Blizzard Jutsu with his Raikiri - just to clear a path and change course. Kakashi took his duty seriously, he didn’t delay on /purpose/, Pakkun should know better. The operative was stalled from rebuking the pug verbally (smug bastard) since he did not want to risk the Sannin zeroing in on their hiding spot, not when they were this close to the engawa’s storm shutters. The clicking of ceramic cups and the intoxicated cheers of ‘sake nomiondo!’ would muffle their words sure, but the teen did not want to take the risk, not with a target of the Senju’s caliber.

As if his inner musings were broadcasted to the whole Ember Village, their target's voice suddenly ricocheted into the night, calling for someone to come out of hiding. The Anbu thought for sure that the Senju must have noticed him slip from the tiled roof earlier and as a result, made to straighten out of his crouch. It was an unfortunate turn of events to be found out now instead of on his own terms, but it would not do to prolong the inevitable, not with the way the Iryō-nin’s chakra flared and coiled. Pakkun shifted, a small, plump paw coming to rest on the teen’s thigh as if to anchor him back in place. Kakashi paused, head angling to lour impatiently at his summons, when out of his periphery he noticed another body emerge from the inky night.

Though it had been years since Kakashi left the Konohagakure Academy, he recognised the young girl as Katō Shizune. He recalled that she was level-headed, a fast learner with good chakra control, if only a little slow in her Taijutsu delivery. He supposed the rumours of her leaving the village with the last Senju rang true, putting to bed a lot of speculation purling within the Leaf Village, not that Kakashi really paid much attention to idle village gossip, mind you. His gaze shifted from the girl to her mentor, grimacing beneath the bone mask as he took stock of the bottle of sake clasped within the Sannin's grasp. He would have preferred to reason with someone that was not inebriated, somewhere less crowded and noisy, but a shinobi rarely got the mission perimeters of their own choosing.

He could wait them out before trailing the kunoichi to their accommodation where he could then make his plea, but the problem was that he had no idea how long that could take. The tension between the two was palpable, both seemingly on the verge to start up a spat. The disapproving tremor laced within the Sannin's tone was sad, angry, even a bit guilty; like this particular scenario has played out many times before. Regardless of whether that was the case, Kakashi did not detect an ounce of drowsiness from either of the two. They could argue, Tsunade could return to the confines of the izakaya and then proceed to gamble and drink for a few hours more (possibly even through the night, if he chose to believe Jiraiya-sama's laments about his teammate).

Kakashi loathed the idea of sitting in the wet grass all night, wasting even more time and energy. He needed to do something, anything, or this mission would be a bust with yet another one of his precious people carrying the can for his shortcomings. The boy shifted on his heels, surveying their surroundings in a calculated stare. There were no civilians meandering about as they were still entrapped and enchanted with the vivacity on display in the izakaya. They were definitely still within hearing range and a crowd will come to investigate should a jutsu battle break out. With that in mind, perhaps the Sannin would be less inclined to cause a scene with so many people nearby? The area was enclosed, private enough, with the pond, bamboo brush and Azalea bushes blocking off the boundary of the property.

The only exit would be the door from whence the Senju came.

It would be a pain to follow a retreating target through the sōji doors, since he did not particularly want to enter such a sordid establishment. He reasoned that he could block the egress, but that would be interpreted as a threat from both him and the Hokage and Kakashi was not prepared to have his mask and pride shattered by a wayward sake bottle. Iie, that was definitely out of the question. The teen sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

Immediately a myriad of images flashed behind his lids, visions of Minato-sensei’s pained, sullen features, the way his slender digits always twitched and twisted as if to claw at his chest. These phantasms were soon joined by the image of a miniature version of his mentor, gurgling and slobbering all over himself and the ugly stuffed toad Jiraiya-sama gave him a month after he was born. Urgh. Sage. Why was he thinking about that Naruto now? He was on a mission; one that was time sensitive, he’s got to get it together and stop thinking about other people's kids!

All in all, there was just no skirting around the obvious. It would be better, /smarter/ to bid his time, but Pakkun has yet to hear back from Guruko or Bull. It has been dead silence from the village since he left Fukujuen, so there was no telling if Minato-sensei was conscious and if he still had chakra pathways left to doctor. It always comes back to time, time which was rapidly sifting through his fingers. The Anbu opened his lids, gaze leaden with resolve as he finally straightened out of his crouch, ignoring the questioning 'yip' from Pakkun as he went.

He slowly meandered out of the shadows and into the dim light lobbed by the swaying Toro lanterns, raising his palms as he went - up and away from his weapon's pouch. It irked his inner-operative to not have his weapons within reach, his stomach muscles knotting, but it was as good an indication of no ill-intent as a killer could manage. Shizune was still speaking, her voice low and wavering, almost pleading with her Shishō, but for what was anyone’s guess. The Anbu, did not let her finish, he couldn’t unfortunately, not when the Hidden Leaf was still so very far away.

"Sumimasen, I don't mean to interrupt, but I have an urgent scroll from the Yondaime for Tsunade-sama.”

@senjutsunade @minaa-munch

As the Hatake slowly faded out of his sensory peripheral, the knot of worry coiled tighter and tighter, along with the faint, suspicious murmurs that underlined his thoughts.

What if he got attacked at some point? Despite being an ANBU, Kakashi had a bounty on his head - and there were so many hunters out there who were crafty enough to corner the young Hatake and dispose him for a quick ryō…

Or worse - capture him for interrogation purposes. Seldom a shinobi could survive the methods often employed in their line of work, and seeing as how Kakashi was practically his shadow in all but name– fingers curled into fists at the unbridled thought, along with the bubbling urge to call him back.

But no…he couldn’t…he needed to have faith - in Kakashi, if not in his own methods. The teenager had found Jiraiya after all. Besides, he was the only one Minato was willing to trust; with the constant whisperings of the Kyubi assaulting his conscious and the paranoia that came with his station. It was an interesting play of dark humor, really - if one could consider the fact that the people of Hi nu Kuni trusted him to keep them safe while as the Hokage, he didn’t have the same luxury.

It came with the position and he was nothing if not blatantly aware of the fact. Minato would hold none responsible over it apart from himself.

Ironically - though it was a bonus for them - people across their borders were more afraid of him now than ever before, seeing as how he housed the most powerful biju in existence - a Jinchuriki Hokage. At least the Yin half of it. That, coupled with his reputation as the Yellow Flash, meant that the other hidden villages would think twice before attempting to poke Konoha like they used to before. Granted, the Fire Daimyo had been most displeased with them with the constant repetition of one calamity after another; the particular fact of the matter simply happened to be the sole, redeeming aspect that they could take solace in.

It also happened to be the only reason the Konoha Go-Ikenban hadn’t recommended his immediate removal; if not for his glaring inadequacies which a certain councilman was rather keen on pointing out on a periodic note, then for his failing health. Any respectable hidden village worth its soil would plant spies in foreign offices; since theirs was a game that relied on intel and the amount of ryō that eventually flowed into their reserves. It was only a matter of time before they figured out that Konoha’s reputed, new-found strength was a poorly woven illusion.

Yare ne. Clothed shoulders sagged a fraction at the line of thought; for at the moment, the Yondaime’s haori seemed a lot more burdensome, the elegant cloth a suffocating embrace of what-ifs and should-bes. Pushing back his chair, the Namikaze gingerly stood just as a polite knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

“Summimasen.” A Chunin from the mission assignment desk stepped in, arms laden with rolls of scrolls. A faint tinge of peach dusted the bridge of her nose under his stare, followed by fidgeting borne of one who rarely got to visit the Hokage’s office. “These reports require your approval, Hokage sama.”

So they did. “Arigatou for bringing them all the way here, Haruhi san.” Cue a slight gesture towards one of the empty cabinets lining the office walls, “If you would, put them there? Feel free to collect them by the end of the day.”

“Hai, Hokage sama.” The action involved more fidgeting, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of a young Inuzuka a certain clan matriarch had introduced him to recently. Hana, apparently - an adorable little heiress who probably blushed more than she talked. Considering the fact that she was related to one as boisterous as Tsume, it was indeed surprising.

But…not the bad kind of surprising. The next generation came with a lot of hope - speaking of, it was time for Naruto’s next feeding wasn’t it? With Kakashi gone and Jiraiya out and about on business he couldn’t risk taking the infant on, Naruto was back to being solely his responsibility.

Not that he minded it, of course. Now was as good a time as any, seeing as how the walls of his office seemed all the more constrictive - and he had time till his next meeting.

“I’ll leave now, Hokage sama.”

“Arigatou, Haruhi san.” The reply was short, but less frigid than before. Haruhi colored a little more before bowing her way out of his office. The Yondaime barely noticed, for he had already focused on a blot bleeding in his chakra network with a familiar ache that settled deep in his bones. His chakra was more alive than he was; steady thrums of raw power controlled with practiced finesse - it was warm and encompassing, tacked at just the right points…

It was home. Needless to say, Minato had already disappeared before the door clicked shut.

The first thing he noticed was the additional smudge of chakra brushing against his consciousness - followed by a friendly yip that was accompanied by gurgling chirps, as if to imitate the sound. Allowing the barest of smiles to slip on to his features, the Namikaze quietly made his way to his room, only to find a large dog drooling all over his futon. A miniature form clothed in adorable orange overalls hung from the poor beast’s ears, chubby fingers clutching the fleshy folds so as to hold himself upright.

The sight was endearing enough to banish his self deprecating thoughts - if only for a fleeting moment. “Maa, maa, pull any harder and his ears will come off.” Clothed arms reached to pull Naruto away; holding the gurgling baby close as tiny hands found new purchase in Minato’s unfortunate bangs. Blue hues flickered from the small tuft of blond hair tickling his cheek to the large form that had decided to get comfortable on his previously unsoiled bedding.

Collection of drool aside, the gesture still tugged at his decaying heartstrings. The sole remainder of his Genin team took his job seriously and was diligent enough to balance the tasks he kept getting saddled with–

Minato had raised the perfect little foot soldier, hadn’t he? The thought invited the barest twitch of his fingers and a searing twinge of raw guilt. Maybe it was the malevolent chakra intertwined with his own, or the fact that his decisions had resulted in such a Kami forsaken mess, but the Namikaze found himself a victim of his own glaring criticism more often than naught.

Perhaps the price of reputed genius who had become attuned to failure? Whatever it was, it was nothing but troublesome for people who didn’t deserve the additional worries - nor the weight of his sins. Tan digits found a wet nose probing his palm with familiar ease, “Arigatou for keeping an eye on Naruto, Bull. You’re a good dog.”

Speak for yourself. I hate mutts.

Sigh. Maybe if he was lucky, he could hold on to the waning dredges of his sanity by the time Kakashi returned.

@konohagakurekakashi @senjutsunade

#konohagakurekakashi #v; survivors guilt #Hatake Kakashi [The Scarecrow]#Senju Tsunade [Godaime Sake-sama]#My next reply will be better :-:#You can only say so much staring at someone from the bushes #How awkward .-.#Inner monologue no Jutsu #Namikaze Minato [Flake Sensei]#hatake kakashi #tsunade senju #Pakkun #Shizune #minato namikaze

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yeyinde · 3 years ago

Text

body electric | everyone x f!reader

It's the burn of hindsight, that fuzzy little thing called moribund that leaks into your marrow as you all take turns showering (they let you go first, unspoken, of course), and converge around the large meeting room where everything—including Simon Riley—was exposed.

Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever… had a gangbang before, and things quickly devolved from there.

(Well. You can scratch that off your bucket list.)

Simon, Price, Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy x f!Reader

⇾warnings: unfettered filth; gendered reader, gendered terminology, female!reader; oral—m&f receiving; unsafe sex; p-in-v sex, fingering; anal, rimming, anal fingering; this is a 6 man gangbang ummmmmmmm what more can i add?

⇾notes: um. yeah. it is what it is and it is nasty.

thank you so much @moondirti for encouraging me to write this, and @sprout-fics and @guyfieriii for the juicy ideas (and full credit for the makeout sess with Rudy goes to @guyfieriii) 🖤

(@ tumblrstaff, please don't delete my blog for this)

also, thank u so much cod fandom. if this revokes my fandom license, just know that it's an absolute honour and privilege to go out into the way i came in—with nothing but filth.

you only have yourselves to blame. and this person in particular 😭

It starts like this:

Price, a little bruised around the edges, and worn from the helicopter, grumbles about needing a drink. Gaz, a little quieter than usual, a little subdued, nods firmly beside him.

It's a spate—Shepherd, Graves—and the cumulation of it all leaves you feeling a little lour, a little out of it. Betrayal, death. You all reek of gunpowder and ichor.

That may be why there is a palpable sense of relief when Alejandro and Rudy fish out some bottles stashed away in the kitchen. He holds two by the nozzle, hefts them in the air, and says:

Who wants some?

No one, not even Ghost, says no.

Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever…, and things quickly devolved from there.

That was then, before you knew how Price, Soap, Gaz Alejandro, and Rodolfo, liked to kiss.

Price—rough, just like everything else about him; shades of smouldering tobacco leaves in the form of an unrelenting powerplay. He batters you into docility, leaves you feeling vapid and stupid by the time his hands rubs circles on the small of your back, the other holding your chin and leading you—always a leader, always—in whichever direction he wants. He's a thinly-veiled lesson in discipline. When you stray from his command, his fingers—thick, and bruising—are immediately there to reprimand you. He tastes like leather and smells like suede. His beard grazes your face until you feel a little sunburnt, a little dazed. He smells of low-grade motor oil and charred pinyon, and the musk of it makes you feel more intoxicated than the aged tequila on your tongue.

His tongue curls over your teeth and the noises he lets out are rasping guttural growls. The kicking engine of a classic car that was left to idle for too long. An American muscle car, maybe. The whiplash bellow of a Hemi purring against your lips. A mustang, a Chevelle. Something drenched in masculinity and oozing authority.

It's controlled. Blistering. He shifts your body around until you're tucked into the warm press of his chest. His hold is ironclad. No escape.

It's Soap, then, something falling from his lips. My turn, maybe. But nothing is solid in the effervescent grey matter saturating your thoughts. You feel drunk with pink peppercorn and sweetgrass when it envelopes you from behind.

His hands pull you away from Price, murmurs of soft words, things meant for a lover spill from his full pink lips. So pretty, hen; gonna make you feel so good. His eagerness shows he slots his pelvis to yours, and the hard, firm bulge of him nearly has you seeing stars.

Soap lingers for a moment, fingers tracing the wet curve of your raw lips, chafed and irritated by the bristles of Price's beard.

It wouldn't be wrong to call the way he touches the drying amalgam of yours and Price's—captain Price, superior, boss; untouchable—saliva obscene. It's filthy the way he grazes his finger under the curve of your lip, eyes honeycomb and wanting.

"Wanna gimme a kiss, hen?"

When he asks you like that, soft and hushed, the ghost of his breath across your stinging lips, you can't say no.

His mouth is molten on yours. He kisses you like he's starving for it. It's wet, and messy. Spittle drips down your chin when he shoves his tongue in your cavern, chasing your taste. Teeth clash, and your lips are pulled softly into his mouth until they swell, bruised and numbed. He only pulls away when you gasp, begging for air, grinning wickedly in the amber glow.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before Gaz is there, hands firm on your ass, dragging you into him.

Gaz peppers you in small, full kisses. Open mouth, teeth sinking into the plush bed of your bottom lip, suckling it into his mouth. Then he pulls away, leaves you dazed, and leaning forward, chasing the thrill of him. He huffs, hands sliding around the curve of your waist. Want it bad, eh?

A tidal wave. A storm surge. They batter against you until you're drunk off the taste of them. An illicit elixir of sin. A tantalising tease of what's to come.

Alejandro kisses you with unmatched finesse. Velvet soft sensuality that tastes of spiced clove and armoise. It starts slow. Just the press of his lips on yours. They lift into a grin, teeth sealed when you whimper and try to chase the santalum on his tongue. He laughs: a low, throaty chuckle, and wedges the tip between his teeth. A small taste, but not nearly enough to satiate you. You feel a little bit like you're floating in the clouds when his tongue finally fills the gap between your teeth; roiling over every inch of space he can find.

You feel like a beached log—ruined by the gritty sand on the bottom of the seafloor, and spat back out into dry land. Covered in the taste of them all, you find yourself slipping off a steep precipice into a chasm you can't climb out of.

It's Rodolfo, then, who grounds you.

His hand is warm on your chin—a beacon of light in a dark tunnel. His lips are a balm to your irritated, bruised flesh. It's sweet. The taste of sweet Brachetto d'Acqui and hedgerow blossoms. He smells of golden copal and kisses you like he's pressing his lips to the hands of his Father; a baptism in soft skin and reverent touches that make you feel like you've been found. Its featherlight whispers of his lips across your skin: the corners of your mouth, the soft skin between your chin and lower lip.

Hands on your waist, hot and heavy. Soap sinks his face in the space between your shoulder blades with a slow drawl of your name, teeth grazing your flesh. His stubble abrades your flesh until you're trembling in their embrace. Static shocks of pleasure bloom in the pits of your stomach.

Rodolfo's head drops, murmured words spilling in hymnals as he nuzzles your neck. Soft, gentle. He puts you together again just to dissolve you into ashes from psalms.

Gaz leaks grape cigarillos, and nag champa incense when he presses flush to your side.

It's when he asks Alejandro if there's any oil, any lube, does it start to sink into your sun-warmed flesh that this is happening. It's real.

You could blame Gaz— never have I ever had a threesome or a gangbang —but the idea mushroomed inside of your head, sporous and damning, until it was all you could think about. you, of course, weren't immune to the sudden hush that fell over the group drinking near the table when you stammered out your answer:

No, I've never had a threesome or a gangbang before.

It all happened so suddenly. The atmosphere was a rich, dense cloud of feverish energy buzzing around you; a miasma of hedonism in smoke and white musk.

Price, then, behind you. Alejandro's barking laughter (no way, cariño, you're too beautiful to never have been fucked like that before). The way Soap's eyes gleamed in the light. Rudy's quiet shake of his head. Ghost's eyes liquifying: heavy, midnight oil on your skin. The sound of glass cracking when Gaz said:

Well, would you?

Would I…? Silence. Poignant. Stifling.

Would you ever have a gangbang?

It spiralled from there. Gaz's words burrowing into your skin. His hands—are hot and heavy on your body. Soap dropping to his knees as he lifted your leg up on his shoulder, breathing deeply against your clothed cunt.

Want to, hen? Wanna take all a'us?

Alejandro's sharp breath. Might break her, hermano. Don't know about you, but I'm a big man.

Yeah, Price's mouth on yours, breath ghosting over your trembling lips. The scratch of his beard rubbing your skin until it was pink and flushed. Ain't the only one, mate.

Lips searing into yours. Sensual rolls of his tongue from Alejandro, hands roaming across your back. A soft, sweet series of kisses that left you breathless from Rudy. Messy, almost hypoxia-inducing ones from Soap that made your head spin, and drool dripped down your chin, your neck, covering your chest. An intense, blistering assault by Gaz, his hand firm on the nape of your neck.

It felt a little bit like a dream. Feverish and desperate. Tinged in the surrealism of being passed around like a prized trophy kissed after a well-won match.

It feels like a cacoethes and carries the taste of Alejandro's tequila. Bad decisions made under terrible influence.

And now—

Now:

There are hands on your body—many of them, in fact: Price holding the back of your knees up to your chest as he swipes his tongue over your aching cunt, lapping at your clit; Soap's on your nipples, pinching and tugging until you're mewling at the sharp pleasure-pain that ripples down your spine. Rodolfo stroking your face, murmuring in dulcet Spanish about how good you are, how pretty you look with your captain between your thighs. Alejandro's fingers ghosting over your torso, and trailing down to your throbbing clit when Price forces the thick of his tongue inside your quivering hole.

It edges into overstimulation; you're equally aware of every single brush across your trembling flesh, and completely gone at the same time. Dissolved into liquid mush.

And they haven't even really started yet.

Gaz is gone somewhere in search of the petroleum jelly in the office upstairs. Ghost leans against the wall—not willing, you think, to partake but still here, still watching you spread out on the table where he dropped his mask for the first time as everyone touches you.

"Fuck, cariño," Alejandro rasps, his finger pressing against your clit in tandem with Price's tongue fucking into the clutch of you. It's too much—his voice is heavy with sin and the heft of it makes you quake. "Bonita. You're so pretty like this, eh? All flushed pretty carmesí and aching for it."

Rodolfo, Rudy he murmurs low in your ear when you whimper his name, chuckles. "She's stunning, eh, hermano."

"Fuckin' right," Soap breathes, his fingers drifting across your smeared lips. "You want this, aye, bonnie? Want us to fuck you silly?"

All you can do is moan brokenly around his hand, fingers rubbing across your tongue.

"Where's Gaz?" Price grumbles into your cunt, beard grazing your inner thighs. "Wanna fuck this tight pussy already, love. Need to feel you around my cock—"

He punctuates his words with the tips of his blunt fingers, pushing two of them into your dripping hole. The sting makes you keen, makes your knees shake. You want to say too much, too sudden, but you can't speak around the three fingers shoved into your throat.

The look on your face makes Alejandro groan. "I want your mouth, cariño. Can I?"

"Christ, hermano," Soap huffs, amused. Tone draped in sex. It makes your thighs quiver. "Ready to start, then?"

"I am," Price grouses, nose flushed against your clit. "I've been thinkin' about this cunt for a long time, love."

They move in tandem. Seamless weaving with one singular goal of stuffing you full of all of them.

Soap pulls his hand away, rubbing your slick over his flushed cock.

You moan against Alejandro's cock when he presses it to the seal of your quivering mouth. His hand is firm on your head, but his eyes are gentle. He waits for you, holding still until you give him your affirmation to continue. The sight of his flushed, tanned cock makes you whimper. He smells of sin: oud and myrrh; heady and thick. Your head swims with the way it clots in your lungs.

Your mouth aparts, tongue rolling out over the weeping head of his cock. It's salty. Brinny. You moan a little when it slides deeper into your mouth.

"Jesus—," Soap pants, rough and slurred. The noise jars into you.

Hands fall over you again, and you lose track of who is touching you when Price groans into your cunt, and Alejandro pushes your jaw open wider, sliding more of his cock into your mouth.

The air buzzes with something bordering on frenetic. Pent up energy from the success of the mission, the alcohol spuming in your veins. The high of the win burns through everyone.

This—a gangbang —would never have happened if it wasn't somehow the perfect storm, the coalescence of all the right emotions.

It's intense. Surreal.

And then Alejandro pitches his hips forward with a smoked groan, murmurs:

"Fuck, gonna cum, cariño. Are you gonna swallow it for me?"

A hushed silence falls around you. It's one thing to attend, but another to partake, and you wonder if they are realising that this is the point of no return.

It's met with a soft moan.

You want it. Want his cum. Want to taste more of that salty haar tang in your throat, feel it settle in the pit of your belly. Hot and syrupy thick.

He pitches his hips forward, hand sliding up the length of his cock not buried in your throat, stroking himself as you suckle on his head. It's sloppy, and wet, and fuck —

Alejandro is the first to cum. The first to spill his milky release on your tongue. It's salty, briny. Not at all dissimilar to the margaritas he handed you hours ago.

His moan is choked and hoarse, a low bellow in the depths of his belly that rumbles through you in a series of deep uh, uh, uhs.

You barely have time to swallow when Rudy is there. Hands on your cheek, eyes lidded and pleading. Can I, cariño?

Alejandro's cum spills from your tongue when he pulls away, dribbling down your chin, neck. It puddles on your chest where Soap's thumb catches the droplets, smearing them around your hard nipples.

You nod, swallowing down the mouthful of cum, brows furrowed in pleasure with each roll of Price's tongue laving at your cunt; the gentle way Soap kneads your flesh.

Rudy shuffles closer, and the flavour of cardamom spumes around you. His body burns hot, heavy cock twitching in his grip. Your mouth drops, tongue lulling out, and he grunts at the sight, eyes cresting.

"You're beautiful, mi Reina."

Rudy's cock brushes across your tongue, eyes shuddering when you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back in pleasure. "Fuck…"

Your tongue laves over his slit, tasting the salty spill of him. His breath is ragged, heavy. There is no warning—just a strangled choke of your name—and then he's cumming on your tongue, ropes spurting over your cheeks and chin.

You gasp, wet and broken, and absolutely filthy.

"That's it—," Price mumbles against you, blowing a huff of air across your slit. It makes your toes curl—the perfect mix of not enough and too much, and—

Rudy strokes your hair, eyes glazed. The angle is awkward, but his mouth slots over yours, tongue rubbing over the mess they made of you. He kisses you like he's worshipping you. Like you're the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he can't get enough.

There is a blunt pressure against your core. A delicious coil inside of you unspooling.

Price has three fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you, tongue rolling over your clit, when you cum around him, knees shaking as you moan at the tight clutch of your walls stretched taut.

"Fuck," Soap breathes, taking Rudy's place when he pulls away from you, lips red and glossy. He pushes his blunt head against your cheek. Cum spurts out, splattering across your face in thick milky ropes. "That's what you sound like when you cum? Jesus—"

You barely have time to catch your breath when Price lifts his head, beard soaked in your slick. Heat pools in your belly again at the sight. He looks like ruin. Wet and dark, and hungry. You whimper when he rubs the scuff of his damp beard over your spread pussy. Coarse hair grazes your clit, and the spark of pleasure has you seeing double. Makes liquid bliss bloom in your chest.

"Couldn't wait, eh, cap?" Gaz returns with a wink, waving the bottle of jelly in his hands when he moves into your periphery.

"Can it, and get over here."

"Impatient."

Price helps you sit up, mouth stinging, and sticky with cum and saliva. His eyes catch in the dimming light high in the rafts. Drunken desire spools in the shades of sapphire blue. His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth.

"Might have to see you like this more often, love."

"Shooting your shot already, cap?" Gaz drawls, humour lacing in his tone.

"Not my fault you waited too long."

"You're lucky," Alejandro rumbles. Firm hands fall to your shoulders, rubbing the knots in your back until your head falls, forehead pressed to Price's chest with a moan. "Should stay here, cariño. I'll make you happy. Get you nice and fat on Mexican food, and swollen with mis hijos e hijas."

"Sí," Rudy's lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering saccharine words in Spanish. "We'll live on the farm. Drinking wine every day. I'll take you to the coast."

You shudder, belly spuming with heat. Overwhelmed, dizzy. It's a dangerous elixir. A deadly combination. It makes you want, yearn.

"No way," Soap huffs. "She's comin' home with us. Back to the UK where she can sit on my cock whenever she wants—"

"You're all wrong," Gaz scoffs. "Price called dibs the moment—"

"That's enough." His command is rough, dry.

Gaz glances at you, and the humour shifts. Darkens. "Fuck, look what they did to you already."

You feel it, thick and viscous, on your burning skin. The flush deepens. You can only imagine what you look like. Your lashes are clumped together, and heavy. Cheeks irritated from the beard burn and the saline smear of cum over your flesh. Swollen, cock-bruised lips. Messy in voluptuary pearlescent.

"You look good," Soap says, taut, and slightly breathless.

They stare at you like you're a banquet—a feast. Your heart thuds in your chest, cum-filled belly rolling. Its—

Powerful. Sensual.

Price's eyes flutter when he leans over you, hands feverish when they fall on your skin. "Gotta move you, now, love. That alright?"

You swallow and taste the ocean. The sea. "Y—yeah."

He shudders. A frisson flurries across his face. "Good."

His hands are solid on your body as they manoeuvre you until your belly is flushed to the table, panting against the damp fabric beneath you. He presses his cock against your ass, letting you feel the iron-hard, velvety soft heat of him. You push your hips back, cunt throbbing. You want it. Want his cock. Want him to fill you up until you're stuffed and fat, and—

Happy, Alejandro said. Happy.

"Soon, love," his voice is a thunderclap in a bottle. You tremble when the balmy heat of him moves away from you, leaving you spread and exposed.

"Fuck," Gaz murmurs. His hand trails down your spine, fingers slipping between the crease of your ass.

He spoke to you about it already. Five of us. Wanna—he licked his lips, eyes hooded and caramel rich—wanna let me fuck your ass?

In for a penny.

Gaz shushes you when you whimper, mouth ghosting over the soft flesh of your ass. He wastes no time. His fingers dig into your cheeks, spreading them open. You mewl. Your body is electrified: too much, too soon, too raw—too exposed; but Gaz groans deep in his throat.

"Fuck, look at you."

He doesn't give you a moment; doesn't waver even when Soap tells him to move away so they can see. There is no preamble. His tongue laves over your asshole, a filthy grunt spilling from his lips as he tastes your flesh.

"Steamin' Jesus, Gaz," Soap groans. Slick noises can be heard behind you. "Fuckin' Christ—"

It's strange. The sensation is heightened by the awareness that everyone—everyone—is watching Gaz devour your ass like it's the best meal he's had in weeks. You quiver, dropping your head into the table. Price stands by your side, cock jerking each time you moan.

His hand on your head is a comfort. A heavy weight. Your hips rock back into Gaz's tongue, keening when it slips into your hole. It doesn't hurt, but there's an insistent pressure as he stretches you open.

A cold, slick finger joins soon after, and the ache makes you choke.

"S'alright, love," Price murmurs, and your lachrymose eyes blink open, gritty and sticky, and dart to him. His hand tightens around the base of his cock. Your cunt throbs at the sight. "Focus on me, yeah?"

"C—captain—"

The rawness in your voice makes him groan. Makes them groan. You can hear Alejandro swear. Soap grunt. More slick noises reverberate around you, and you flush. Cheeks burning. They're getting themselves off to this. To Gaz fingering your tight asshole open for their cocks. Another hole for them to slip inside.

Fuck, fuck fuck—

"That's it," Price coos, low and smoky, and filled with rough tobacco.

His hand threads through your hair as Soap's roam your body, slipping beneath your chest and the table, punching your nipples, stroking your belly. Rudy, or maybe Alejandro—you can't see, can't tell—tap on your clit as two fingers are pushed back into your throbbing cunt.

You want them. Want it.

"P—please—"

Price groans, his cock spitting out prespend that dribbles down the length of him. "I want you to suck my cock, love. Will you do that for me?"

You nod, core quivering as a rush of heat flutters down to the base of your spine. You still taste Alejandro, Rudy, on your tongue.

You wonder if Price tastes just as good.

Price helps you move, and angles his cock toward you, grunting when your wet, sloppy mouth seals over the head.

He tastes even better. Salty and bitter. Tobacco ash and smoke. You want to drown in it.

Gaz stretches your ass as you swallow your captain's cock, and your head still spins with that notion, not quite able to believe you're on your knees for them, spread open, and being readied for all of them that take.

It cudgels into your stomach: a gnarling frisson that makes throb, makes you push back onto Gaz's fingers, his tongue, and moan around Price's cock.

"That enough, Gaz?" He sounds wrecked when he speaks. Ashes and gasoline; it's saturated in want. The air crackles with impatience.

His tongue slides across your fluttering hole in a long, wet stripe, as if savouring the taste of you before he pulls back.

"Yeah—," it's wet when it slurs out of him. His fingers press against your loose hole, moaning a little when you greedily take the tips inside. "Fuck, she's more than ready, cap."

Price wastes no time. He pulls you off of him, and the others—all communicating in a series of strange commands you can't decipher through the rush in your head—all make room for him.

He turns you around, and lifts you onto the table, legs spread around the thick of him. His cock throbs against your pussy when you wiggle back, trying to get comfortable on the bed of masks—Ghost's masks—and it hits you, now, that you're going to get fucked. That your pussy and your ass have been stretched, prepped, and are ready for them. All of them.

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring, and the dark look in his molten sapphire gaze makes you wonder if he feels it, too. If it's hitting him with just as much of a punch as it is you.

His cock nudges against your hole. He pauses, eyes flickering up from the seal of your cunt around his flushed, engorged head, to confirm, one last time, if you want this. If you're sure.

It's debauched and absolutely filthy, but—your hand reaches out when Soap steps up, cock bobbing with each step, and you grasp his shaft. Alejandro's fingers ghost over your bruised, swollen mouth, and you let him lead your head to his throbbing cock, lips sealing over the leaking head.

Rudy's hands are reverent when he takes your other hand, bringing it to his length.

It's all the confirmation he needs, but still. Price waits. Your heart thunders in your chest. Your captain—always so—

The thought is nipped when you nod around Alejandro, and he pushes inside of your pussy. Stretching your cunt with his girth. You moan, legs falling open wider as he splits you apart.

It's good. It's too much. It's—

He feeds it into you, lips curled up in a snarl as you split around him. He grunts—rasping growls that spool inside of your core until you're white-hot, and whimpering.

"Come on, love," is rucked from his throat. A battering ram against your chest swinging hard, and ferocious until you see stars. "You can take me."

It makes you tremble. Makes the world around you grind together; tectonic plates shifting, crashing. Earthquake tremors along the base of your spine, rattling your bones. It cracks them open, and leaks Nirvana through your bloodstream.

Price's cock wrenches you open. Each inch jarring the soporific slurry of sex and smoke congealing heavy in your veins until you're mewling around Alejandro's cock.

His groans of pleasure as resin thick; smouldering sandalwood. Cracking sap. He works himself inside of you, gruff praises falling from his still-damp lips. You feel good. This pretty cunt was made to get ruined, wasn't it? Take me, love. That's it. They slide over your skin, oud oil and syrup thick, until your flesh prickles with goosebumps.

Alejandro's cock hits the gummy walls of your throat, his grunt curls over you. Clove and amber. You burn. There is a give, and then—

His hips slide against yours, cunt stuffed to the brim with his cock. Tears leak down your cheeks at the feeling of him sitting so heavy inside of you, at the blunt press of Alejandro's cock choking you in shallow thrusts.

"Bloody hell—," he groans, head tipping back as he stares at the seal of your pussy taut around the base. "Look'it you. So full of cock. You look like you were made for this, pretty thing."

"Our little slut, eh?" Alejandro huffs, pushing his hips closer to your face as you lap at him. "If her pussy feels as good as her mouth, hermano, I won't last too long."

"Fuck, can't wait to fuck you next," Soap grunts, his hand wrapping around yours as he guides you along, showing you what he likes. "Cannae fuckin—"

Rudy's hand falls to your swaying chest, rubbing your aching nipples as Price begins to fuck you, filling you up over and over again with his fat cock.

It's good. It's so fucking good. You whine around Alejandro, and feel molten pleasure bloom in your belly as they use you, revere you; eyes fixed on your body as you take them all in.

"I'm gonna cum soon," Price grunts, his hips pistoning into you hard enough to jar the table. The metal legs grind against the cement floor. The room filled with the scent of sex and the lewd noises that spill from the wet squelch of your cunt greedily swallowing down your captain's cock. The suckling sound of Alejandro fucking your throat. "Look at you, look at this pretty fucking cunt taking me—"

Soap's fingers fall to your clit as Price hits the plug of your womb with the blunt head of his cock, sending pleasure ricocheting down your spine until you're arching off the table. Muscles coil, tightening together as he knocks into the soft walls of your pussy, sending you reeling.

"Ah, fuck—," Alejandro grunts. "I'm gonna cum, cariño. You'll swallow it for me, eh? Swallow it all—fuck—"

He cums down your throat for the second time, hands stroking your face as he feeds it to you with muttered words in slurred Spanish too fast for you to pick up.

You can't focus. Can't think—

The taste of cum on your tongue, the blissed noses that spill around you, and the way Price fucks you deep, battering against your fluttering walls have you seeing stars.

You moan, nearly choking on the thick cum that drenches you. Soap leans down, spits on your clit, and rubs the mess in with his fingers. It's feral. It's disgusting—

Your cunt spasms as you're shoved over the precipice, squeezing and throbbing like a heartbeat around the thick plug of Price's cock as he spears it against your womb; a battering ram into your flesh.

"Jesus, captain," Soap sounds awed, voice pitched low and slurred. "Just givin' it to her, aye?"

"Fuckin' hell—"

He cums inside of you with a grunt of your name draped in liquid sin. Cock twitching deep inside of you, pressed taut to your womb. He holds it there and makes you take it. Drowns your cunt in his thick cum.

It's wet between your thighs. Your throat clicks when you swallow, nose burning from the flood of briny cum Alejandro poured down your throat.

Price pulls out slowly, taps the head of his sticky cock against your clit, and you flush at the feeling of him leaking out of you.

There is no respite. Gaz's hands are on your body, head numb and fuzzy, as they speak about the intricacies of fucking you, of filling you up.

"Think she's ready for two?"

"Are you?" Soap's fingers fall to your aching cunt, spreading the thick cum around your clit. "Can you take us both?"

"No. Not yet." It's Ghost who speaks, and your belly rolls at the low husk of his voice.

"Yeah, give her one more."

Soap's fingers slip into your cunt, and curl against your sensitive walls. "Fuck, captain. You filled her up good."

Rudy's thumb presses against the seam of your mouth, eyes pleading when he stares down at you. His thick cock grasped in his hand.

You're little more than a ragdoll. An offering between the gods. Soap parts your thighs, head tapping against your throbbing cunt.

Price leans against a beam close by, eyes burning into you in search of any glimmer of distress. Having him close by calms you. Makes you relax. You settle, mouth popping open for Rudy as Soap pushes himself into your pussy.

"Fuck, your pussy feels incredible—"

He lets out a string of curses in rapid-fire Scots, burying the full length of himself into your cunt.

He fucks you like he's aching for it. A madman. His hips bludgeon into you until you're seeing stars, until you're choking around Rudy's cock. It's too much. Too much—

You want more.

Rudy's hands are gentle on your face, brushing your hair away as he cants his hips. His cock slides over your tongue, and you try to hollow your cheeks, to make it good for him, but the blistering pleasure makes your mouth fall open.

"It's okay, bonita." He murmurs, resting his head on your tongue as he fists the length of himself. "Just like this, okay? Just like this. Let me—," he fucks into his palm, eyes rolling back as he rubs his weeping slit over your tongue.

Gaz's hand grabs your swaying breasts in his hand. "I'm gonna fuck your ass next, yeah? Gonna split your little hole open on my cock. You don't want, don't you? Wanna be fucked in all holes, like a little whore."

Fuck. Fuck—

Rudy pushes his cock into your mouth, groaning as molten cum sputters out, drenching your tongue and cheeks.

"Oh, fuck—," Soap pants, hips slamming into you. His eyes are fixed on your messy face. "You look so fuckin' pretty with cum all over you, so fuckin' good for us, aye?"

His eyes snap shut, brow furrowed in pleasure as he buries the full length of himself inside of your spasming pussy, filling you with another load of cum.

It's good. It's so good. The sensation of hands on your body isn't foreign anymore. Alejandro moves when Rudy finishes, stroking your hair, and leaning down to kiss your forehead. You go to him eagerly, mouth parting as he slips his softened cock into your mouth.

Words are murmured around you, grunts and groans of pleasure so robust and full that you clench, aching at the sound of their bliss.

Fingers on your nipples, your clit, makes you see white. Makes your back arch as liquid pleasure blooms inside your core again.

Soap pulls out, and you barely have time to mourn the loss of him when Gaz slots between your legs, fingers falling to your ass, and slipping inside with a groan.

"Nice and loose, now," he purrs, spreading his fingers inside your tight channel. "Gonna fuck this pretty asshole. Gonna fucking ruin you. Alejandro's gonna fuck your pussy after, eh? Maybe me and Price can fill you up at the same time, huh?"

"Gaz," his name is drenched in smoke, a shuddering rumble that stabs tight into your core when Price speaks. Your cunt throbs at the thought. "If you don't hurry up—"

"Alright, alright, cap."

Rudy's behind you at the head of the table, hands roaming over your skin, smearing cum all over your flesh. He murmurs low, sweet words in Spanish you can't hear over the roaring in your ears when Gaz spreads your legs, cock nudging against your virgin hole. It's comforting, though. His presence is solid. Your hands grip his forearms, whining at the sting, the blunt pressure pushing into you.

Soap groans. You can hear his voice to your left along with slick sounds of him touching his spent cock.

"That's so fuckin' hot. Steamin' fucking Jesus—"

You're relaxed enough that Gaz slips inside without much of a burn. It feels strange: a heavy pressure, a slight sting. You're prepared enough that it's more foreign, and uncomfortable than it is painful. But it's—

Full.

You moan when his hips buck shallowly, pushing more of him into your asshole. It's weird. It's strange. It's—

"How does it feel, love?"

Price's fingers fall on your throbbing clit. Alejandro's—you think, maybe; you can't see through the blurred tears in your eyes—push into your sopping cunt, groaning wetly at the lewd squelch of the cum inside of you.

"It's—"

Belly full. A pressure unlike anything you'd felt before. Snug, and tight, and—

"Good," you whimper, arching your back. Your nipples are tugged. Pussy stuffed with three of Alejandro's fingers. Ass full of Gaz when he finally, finally, bottoms out with a moan. "It's so good—"

He fucks you slow, steady. Savouring the tight clench of you around him.

Price works your clit, murmuring about how good you are. How pretty you look, full of cum and getting your ass stuffed with cock.

"You were made for this, weren't you? Little cockslut."

It punches the air from your lungs when he hisses it into your ear.

Gaz pushes the length of himself inside your ass, moaning about how tight you are. How he can't wait to fill you up. His hands fall, sliding over your ass cheeks until he brushes over the rim of your stretched hole, hips stuttering.

"God," he chokes. "Fuck, you look good."

"Yeah, she does," Soap breathes, hands palming at your body, rough and hot and tacky with his release. They glide up the length of your body, pressing into your swollen mouth. "Open up for me."

His fingers taste of pennies when he pushes them against your tongue, stroking over your flesh. He thrusts them in tandem to the rolls of Gaz's cock splitting you deeply. It's a filthy crescendo of moans, grunts, the sloppy wet sound of your gummy mouth being fucked by three of Soap's fingers, and the lewd, fleshy snap of Gaz's pelvis and thighs slapping against yours.

Rudy strokes your hair, pushing the tangled mess of it out of your eyes, and murmurs about how good you're being. The soft praise prickles over you like the warm glow from an altar candle. The heat makes your eyes burn, stinging with tears, and you take what they give you, and try not to get lost in the rapture of their flesh staining your skin.

Price's finger pushes against your sensitive clit. Rudy's soft voice permeates around like burning incense. The heavy weight, the foreign slide, of Gaz stretching your channel makes you keen low in your throat, muffled by the messy drag of Soap's knuckles on the roof of your mouth.

You cum again, shuddering from the billowing pleasure blanketing you from all sides, and fall into the embrace of Rudy's arms. Price's hands are a plinth on your hips, keeping you up, keeping you grounded, and Gaz works himself to completion, scorched words of bliss spilling from gritted teeth.

Soap leans down, tongue catching the mess spilling from your gaping mouth. Alejandro rubs your fluttering walls. It's intense. Overwhelming. You're surrounded by a dense smog of pleasure and musk: clove cigarettes, bayberry, oakmoss, and the thick tang of a wet, loam and humus forest.

The drawling moan Gaz lets out makes your core ache. He buries himself deep, hips glued to the plush seam of your ass, and he spills deep inside of you.

"Joder, cariño, you look good with your ass stuffed, eh?"

You can't speak around Soap's fingers. The only noise that spills is a sloppy, wet moan.

Gaz presses kisses into your spine, slowly, slowly, pulling out of your ass.

"Yeah, she does." He slurs, rubbing his chin over the small of your back. "Who's next?"

Everything blurs into a fever dream of hands and tongues, and the delicious stretch of your cunt, your ass, as they stuff you full of them. Filthy words are whispered into your temple as they grow bolder with your body.

Price gets you off just by slapping his palm over your clit until you clench around Rudy's cock. Soap licks up your tears, fingers pressed as far down your throat as he can get them, and murmurs how sexy you look full of cum. How he can't get enough of your tight cunt and pretty little hole.

You were made for them, Alejandro whispers, and pulls your hips down until you're seated on his cock. The blunt head of Rudy's cock soon presses to your wet asshole, bottoming out with a deep groan. His hands are reverent as they run across your flesh, choked whimpers falling out about how fucking stunning you look when you're stuffed to the brim.

You sob between them as they share a messy kiss over your shoulder, grunting into each other's mouths as they ruin you.

Gaz and Price drag you away soon after they finish, petting your messy hair away from your sticky, sweaty forehead, and splitting you apart between them. You scream into Price's chest as he holds the fat of your ass cheeks open for Gaz to rut into like a man starved for it. Possessed. He coos in your ear when Soap shoves his cock into your gaping mouth, choking you on the thick of him. So fucking good, love. Meant for this. After we'll run you a bath and you sit on my cock while I clean you up, hmm?

You feel a little stripped down to the marrow, pulverised under their wanting hands; when Price presses into your womb, and cums again. The molten spume inside soothes the throbbing ache of your core. A debauched balm to a raw wound.

It would be a lie to say you hate the way it feels to be so full of them. To have their taste in your tongue, sticking to the back of your throat, pooling in your belly, your pussy, your guts. You're full and sore and you feel like one massive contusion—broken and battered and barely clinging to sentience—when his cock slips free with a wet squelch.

It's a little surreal, but—

Comfortable. It shouldn't be. It should be weird, and awkward, and—

Fuck. You had sex with five men in the span of several hours. Your teammates, your captain, no less. And yet.

Yet:

You feel full in a way you'd never been before. Satiated and stupidly fucking happy.

Price snorts when you lay back on the floor, a blissed-out smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.

"Liked it, did you?"

You don't have the capacity for speech. Words escape you. They can't seep through the salty mess in your throat.

Instead, you moan—low and needy—and feel your belly quiver when Price's eyes flash. Smoke and embers. And when Alejandro groans aloud. When Rudy's hand trembles on your skin. When Soap's hand falls to his spent, softened cock, unable to stop the thrum of desire when you sound like you had the best meal in years. When Gaz shivers, and says please tell me we can play this game more often.

It's good. It's—

Footsteps. A hush. A shadow falls over you.

Then: "decide to join in, after all, Lt?"

Ghost's hands are hot on your sensitive flesh.

He says nothing as he crouches down on the floor where Gaz and Price dragged you, but his eyes are liquid when he stares at the mess of you. Drenched, you're sure, in cum; it leaks down your chin, out of your sensitive, raw pussy, and your aching hole. Doused in their pleasure, and burning from the sting of their ardour.

"Fuck, Lt," Soap murmurs, dazed. He'd spent himself on your face only moments ago, and when your glassy eyes fall to him, you find him staring fixed at the apex of your thighs where Ghost slots himself between. "You're gonna ruin her—"

You don't know what he means until you look back. The air in your lungs catches, eyes widening. He's huge. Fat and throbbing, prespend leaks down the absurd length of himself. It twitches when he catches you staring at him, sticky, numbed mouth dropping open.

"S—sir—"

His hand slides, fists the base of himself. He taps the head of his cock against your quivering, sloppy cunt. "Can you take me, pet?"

Shit. Shit—

You don't think you can, not at all, but—

Slick noises around you. Grunts of pleasure. Murmured words. They want to see you split apart on his cock. Stuffed full. Your belly lurches. Heat simmers inside of you once again.

Your trembling eyes find his, and you lay back against the floor, knees parting. Inviting. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip.

"Fill me up, sir—"

He snarls.

Ghost doesn't wait. Doesn't touch you with softness, or reverence. His hands are branding, white-hot, when they fall to your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest. His eyes are glued to the messy seam of your cunt, spilling viscous cum down your ass until it pools below you in a puddle.

You're wrecked. Ruined. You'd had all of them inside of you—your mouth, your pussy, your ass—except him, and your belly flips, head a muddled slurry of want, want, want as the fat head of his cock slips over the milky mess, catching on your ruined, red hole.

"Thought you got lost, Ghost," Alejandro says, words carrying secrets you can't make sense of.

"Never."

He pushes the mushroomed head into your cunt, rumbling at the give of your body as you part for him, sucking him in deep. Ghost fills you up until your belly bulges with the length of him.

Soap moans at the sight. At the way you take the massive cock burrowing deep inside of you.

They all seem to be enjoying the way he ruins you. Over the heft of his shoulder, the thick bracket of his arms, you see them all staring at the way he wrecks you. Batters your body with wet, sloppy noises spilling out.

He fucks you slow: long, deep plunges into your core, gaze sliding in increments to your face, slack and tacky with lashes clumped together with an amalgamation of spittle and cum, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root. It's intense. Dizzying.

You feel pushed past your breaking point: overarching beyond the mettle until you're a raw nerve exposed to the corrosive chemicals in the air. Split apart and reassembled into something new and vulnerable. You're chafed and aching, and it edges on painful, and blistering like a third-degree burn being rubbed against rough wool. But despite the sting, the graze still feels good when it itches over your inflamed skin. A balm that burns before it soothes.

Ghost—Simon, now, you suppose since he's currently eight inches deep inside of your sore cunt—seems to somehow know. Maybe it's the hoarse crackle in your throat when he hits you deeply, or the exhausted droop of your eyes when he presses his weight against you, filling you up until he sits heavy in your chest, but he takes pity on your poor, battered body bursting with the molasses thick heft of euphoria that congeals inside of your marrow. His thrusts are punctured by the soft way he gazes at you. A physical weight to his stare slams into your chest with each roll of his hips, nudging you back to that steep precipice you'd dropped from so many times you'd lost count.

The dance is familiar.

But the gentle, almost possessive, way he touches you isn't.

"Fuck, Lt. Can see you bulging through her belly."

Soaps words are met with a rasping snarl, a brutal piston of his cock into your gummy, wrung-out walls. A hand falls to your belly, feeling the swell, and the pressure has phosphenes burning your eyelids when they snap shut at the heavy mist of pleasure that falls on you.

You don't think you can cum again. Your head is a slurry of intense pleasure: gummy and stupid on the way they fucked the sense out of you. Synopses misfire. You feel like you're barely cognisant anymore.

It's not good enough, though.

His fingers find your clit, pressing against the tender nub until you're bucking against him, trying to get away from the agonising euphoria pounding through your core.

"I want to feel you cum on my cock, pet."

You can't—

You really can't. But he doesn't relent. He shoves himself into your quivering cunt until you see stars flash across your eyes, and the scent of nirvana permeates in the air.

If you won't go willingly to the vertiginous edge, he'll drag you there instead.

A sharp thrust has your mind whiting out; the overstuffed feeling of being stretched to the brim sits heavy in your core. Your nails press into his shoulders, desperate to hang on to something tangible, real. They dig deeper until the moons flood with blood. It makes him groan—deep, low; rucked coals over open flames—and the noise has you reaching for Orion with your bare hands, mouth dropped low to catch the cosmic dust that permeates in the air between you.

"Fuck—" a sharp whimper has him huffing into your neck, a satisfied noise he can't bite off, can't stifle.

He likes it. Likes spreading you open, and watching you squirm. Likes the flash of pain that flickers across your face when he first kisses your drenched core with the fat head of his cock. Eyes wide, fixed on the scrunch of your brow, the wrinkles in your nose, the deep, punctured gasps that spill from your gaping mouth—he misses nothing, stare branding you.

It's the thick of him when it splits you apart, breaks you in half, that really captures his full attention. Stuffed to the brim, and clawing at him for respite from the way he fits inside of you; he takes it all in. Eyes never wavering. Liquid want flooding the bottom ring of his lower eyelids, a molten pool half hidden behind his lash line. He gazes down at you, fans of ash cresting over.

And then when he bottoms out, when his cock is fully seated inside of your body that struggles to make room to fit him, he lifts his gaze. A perfect polynya. He stares at you, then, watching—almost placidly, impassively—as you grit your teeth from the burn of taking him to the root. A slow roll of his hips to test your mettle; a harsh grind of his cock nestled taut against the plug of your womb. It has you singing.

A test of the water. A battering of the futile clutch you have over your sangfroid. He won't start until it breaks. Until it shatters.

His hands are hot when they grasp the soft skin behind your knees, pointing them down toward your swaying chest as he fucks you open in deep, almost languid cants of his hips until you're grabbing at the ground, and mewling his name. Broken, now, by his cock.

Simon is a storm.

A gale. He ravages you until you're dizzy with the brutal way he takes you—and takes, takes, takes —and begging for mercy.

None comes.

You can't barter with a typhoon. Can't make deals with a hurricane.

It hits. Breaching your shores with enough force to ruin.

"Simon," it is whispered low, constricted. The air in your lungs is liquifying; condensation builds until you're choking.

Another huff. He thrusts harder, head notching into something that has you lurching forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder. You spasm around him until he growls in your ear.

His thighs widen, pitching his hips low as fucks into you, a touch savage. Your leg slips from his hold, the back pressed against the muscles of his beneath you. The coarse hair of his legs tickles your flesh. Goosebumps erupt. You shiver.

The breath you gasp in is wispy, and thin. It isn't enough to quench the ache in your chest, but nor is it enough to truly let you slip into the throes of hypoxia. He brings you to the brink, lets you gaze over the edge of that unknown abyss, but refuses to let you any further. His grip is unyielding. It burrows into you.

Like this, with black moulting over your vision and phosphenes glimmering in the cosmic yonder that stretches out in front of you, you can feel everything. There is a startling clarity that rocks through you. You can feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he slams it into you, prying your walls open as he steals all the air from your lungs.

"Shit—"

He cums with a grunt that sounds like it was dragged through barbed wire. Liquid pleasure blooms when you feel him twitch inside of you, and all you can do is cling to his massive shoulders as he rides you through the throes of bliss battering into your core.

Eyes drink you in: wide in the pale moonlight that spills from the window, cut at the bridge of his nose by the mask, jowls snapping at you. He's bathed entirely in black; drenched in tenebrose. A Stygian being looming over you, taking its wares from the tight clutch of your body, and forcing the air from your lungs until it's filled with the scent of him, and nothing more.

"You look good like this," he murmurs, eyes fever red and cosmic black. "Fuckin' hell, pet. You were made to be fucked, weren't you?"

Your eyes roll back into your head at the gruff sin leaking from behind his mask.

"Yes," you whimper, voice shredded and wrecked. He's not the only one who groans at the sound of you, ruined and aching. "Fuck, I love your cocks—"

It feels like the end. Like you'd been spat out on the wrong side of a tornado, and thrust into a battle you weren't, entirely, prepared for.

But you won. There is victory in the ache that thunders through your joints. A hard-fought war that left you a victor in the middle of a burning no man's land.

You can hear them around you. Price stroking your hair, and whispering about how good you were. Gaz and Soap huffing with exhausted laughter that sounds a touch delirious, as if they still couldn't quite wrap their heads around the act they were buried balls deep inside of you mere moments ago.

Alejandro and Rudy mutter to each other in blistered Spanish. You hear the clink of bottles as they toast each other over a victory, and a fucking gangbang.

They take turns touching you. Caring for you. Rudy makes you drink water, eyes melted chocolate—glossy and sleek with the remnants of pleasure. Aqui. He says, pressing the cool bottle to your sweat-slicked forehead. Aquas. Drink up, mi corazón.

Alejandro supports your shoulders when you struggle to sit up and take a sip. Gaz has a towel pressed to your cheeks, cleaning up the flaking mess of dried cum and sweat. Soap's hands clench yours tight when the bottle shakes in your grasp. Price is there to hold it steady.

Ghost hasn't taken his eyes off of you once since this started. You meet his stare, gloaming light shading everything in gold. He tips his chin. A promise in the obsidian cut of his eyes.

Thought you got lost, Ghost—

Gaz huffs. Gems shatter. Crushed into shards that sit in the palm of your hand, waiting to be reassembled.

(Someday, you think.)

"Best game of never have I ever, ever."

"So….," Soap slurs, cheeks pink and eyes swimming with incipient desire. "Round two?"

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smokersbaby · 2 years ago

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How OP's men would react when you ask them to be loud in bed?

Characters: monster trio (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji) TW: NFSW, oral sex, fingering, creampie (no breeding kink included) Notes: Since I love moans and groans I thought you'd like to read something about it with the monster trio 💕

Luffy

He was grabbing you tight on your waist, keeping you pressed down on the mattress while fucking you slowly. His trusts were deep and sometimes he loved to lean down towards you to kiss and hug you while pounding his cock inside you. Hugging him by his back to keep him down was a thing you loved to do, just to feel the hotness of his body near yours. But it wasn't the only thing you wanted to feel from him. The room was quite silent, with your soft moans coming out of your mouth now and then. All of a sudden, Luffy started to increase his pace, giving faster and more powerful trusts. Grabbing him by his back, you were pounding him deep further inside of you, an unexpected groan came out of his mouth, but it was a one-time thing because he refused to let out a sound again. "Please don't hold back," you said. "I'm not" he answered you, thinking you were referring to his pace. "I mean… with your voice, I want to hear you" you whispered with a louring voice in his ear. He lowered his head in the crook of your neck, biting your sensitive skin softly. A lewd groan came out of his mouth against your neck, as if he was releasing all of his excitement in one breath. You could feel goosebumps all over your body, Luffy was going feral trusting his throbbing cock much faster than before. Your climax was approaching, either because of the physical feeling of Luffy inside of you or because of the moans he was making only for you. "L-Luffy" you tried to say, surely he could feel your gummy walls clenching against his hardness. "Come for me" he whispers in your ear, knowing it was his voice to drive you crazy. You tightened your hug while creaming all over his cock, feeling him releasing all he had inside you filling the not-so-quiet room with his groans. Probably you won't have to ask him to be louder any more next time, because Luffy learned how much you liked it to do that every time afterwards.

Zoro

Zoro's favourite hobby was to make you moan with his fingers. He loved to see you blush and cover your face with your hands because you were enjoying it just too much to let him see your flustered face. It was kind of embarrassing to make such lewd moans because of how well he was fucking you with his thick fingers. The smile he had on his face made you realize how proud he was of his work. "You like that huh?" he whispered with a smile stamped on his face, while you were cumming all over his fingers. It wasn't fair, you wanted to make him feel so good as well and feel proud just as he was at that moment. You sit up on the bed, grabbing him by his face to give him a false chaste kiss on his lips. You pushed him down on the bed, he was completely naked. "What are you doing Y/N?" Zoro asked a little confused by your move. "It's my turn" you answered while licking the back of his hard cock from the base up to his brown tip. "F-fuck…" a lewd groan came out of his mouth as he covered his lips with a hand to suffocate his moans. "Do it again, I want to hear you" you whispered smiling. You spitted on your right hand and then grabbed lightly his cock, starting to stroke him while you put his hardness deep as you could in your mouth. Zoro was starting to be comfortable with moaning, but you wanted to feel him more: you wanted him to moan as loud as you were doing before while he was fucking you with his fingers. "I want more," you said firmly, climbing on top of him and leaving him speechless for a second. You grabbed his length with one hand and you let it slide deep further inside your cunt with one move, stretching your insides. The lewdest sound came out of Zoro's mouth, he was so surprised to see you taking control over him but he loved it so much. Your hips were bouncing on his, the sound of your bodies clapping against each other mixing with Zoro's groans. It didn't take much for him to come, his growlings filling the room, while you watched him smiling on top of him, proud of your work.

Sanji

Taking baths with Sanji was a prerogative for you two since you started dating. It was a very intimate moment, he rubbing the sponged filled with soap on your back and you enjoying the moment, knowing it would end with him fucking you passionately in the bathtub. And so it was this time. Sanji was grabbing you by your hips, your ass slapping softly against his pelvis making a pleasant clapping, mixing with the sound of the water that was surrounding you. With his hands, he was cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples since he knew it was a sensitive spot of yours. You were holding to the edges of the bathtub, trying to keep up with his pace. Sanji's thrusts were fast but not so deep inside of you, and you wanted to feel him whole. Tilting your head slightly, you could see his blushing face looking down at your ass, almost hypnotized to the rhythm of his trust inside of you. "Come here" you whispered, asking him to lean down to your back and hug you from behind. He did as you asked, and now you could feel his heavy breath against your ears. His trusts were much deeper now, a thing that made you pant his name through your moans. His fat cock was plunged deep inside of you hitting your softest spot and making you reach your climax. "I want to hear you" you whispered all of a sudden. "You want me to fuck you with my voice?" Sanji said with a hoarse voice in your ear, goosebumps all over your body. His breath was short and loud, as he was near to his peak too. One of his hands was placed on your belly, his fingers playing with your clitoris. "Come for me, my love" Sanji groans in your ear, making your wet cunt clench around his cock, as he does the same filling you up with his cum, your moans mixing in the bathroom. You didn't think that you'd enjoy so much being fucked with Sanji's voice.

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 2 years ago

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Buck & Doe (13)

Summary: Natasha attempts to take down Dreykov, who is mind controlling Black Widows. In her quest she recruits Y/N, a former Black Widow turned science experiment. Bucky and Natasha share a history in the Red Room but his life might be intertwined with more than one Widow. The closer they get to taking down Dreykov, the more secrets come to light.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angry Bucky

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Not Beta’d

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 13

When Rebecca demanded they travel as normal people Bucky hadn’t expected to be trapped in a Volkswagen Beetle for hours on end only to end up at a seedy motel. The sleek blue car left little room between the two super-soldiers; their shoulders battled for what little space remained the entire ride. Y/N and Natasha took to the back of the vehicle equally cramped in the much narrower space. The confinement had everyone on edge. So much for calling it a vacation.

A knock on the driver’s widow had Steve rolling the window down, grateful for someone else to converse with.

Rebecca gave everyone a small wave. “The kids are passed out. I’m going to go in and get us a couple of rooms while Harold unpacks the car. Care to join me?”

Steve nodded, killing the engine before tossing Bucky the keys. “Unload her will ya.” The blonde barely waited for a response before he was scrambling out of the car stretching his legs.

With a two-finger salute Bucky followed suit, sliding the passenger seat forward to allow Y/N and Natasha to exit. They didn’t have much, but they needed to appear normal, at least in front of the kids. Having the public spot them also wasn’t ideal in the event that HYDRA got word of it. Slipping past the open door, Bucky dove forward grasping two heavy duffels off of the back floor.

“Need a hand, James?”

Bucky jumped at the sudden loud voice directly behind him. A silent curse on his tongue as his head connected with the top of the car. With a growl Bucky whipped around dropping both bags on the concrete, the clash of metal loud in the air. “What’s your problem?”

Harold raised his palms in surrender. “I was only trying to help.”

“Yeah, well don’t.” Bucky spat, reaching up to rub the sore spot on his head.

“Barnes.” Natasha snapped.

Harold’s eyes dropped landing on the two black duffle bags between the men. He knew the sound of guns clanging together. In his line of work, Harold had been familiar with the sound of a few guns knocking together; this was more than a few.

He narrowed his eyes as he met Bucky’s cold glare. “That’s quite the arsenal you got there. Plan on using that?”

An animalistic noise escaped the super-soldier. He didn’t have to ask Harold what he meant. The unwavering eye contact was enough to know he saw Bucky as a threat. Harold knew Bucky’s former self had murdered people, but he was no longer the Winter Soldier. He didn’t deserve the implications.

“Only if HYDRA fires first.” Natasha intervened, drawing Harold’s eyes on her. “Thank you for the offer but we got it from here.”

After a long stare off Harold nodded retreating to his car. Natasha was unfazed by the large man. It wasn’t the first time she encountered men like him. He was sizing them up. His job was to protect Rebecca and the kids. He didn’t trust them and no matter how close Steve, Y/N, and Bucky were to Rebecca, Natasha wasn’t fully convinced she trusted Rebecca and Harold either.

“What the hell was that Barnes?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest.

Bucky loured at the Widow. “Don’t pretend this is about Harold. If you have something to say, then say it.” Ever since the conversion about the Wolf Spider ops Natasha has kept her distance. It was only a matter of time before the topic came up.

Natasha shook her head. “This is about Harold.”

“He came after me.” Bucky insisted.

The red head pressed her lips together. “He was just doing his job. He’s cautious like the rest of us. It’s his job to protect Rebecca and the kids from HYDRA and we're heading right into the lion’s den.”

“No one forced her to help us.”

Natasha’s lip quirked. “Exactly Barnes. No one forced him to tag along either, so play nice. At least until the mission is over.”

Bucky inhaled, rolling his eyes. “For someone so cautious and experienced he should know not to sneak up on someone.”

A bell chimed signaling Rebecca and Steve’s exit from the office cutting their conversation short. Rebecca waved a white envelope filled with key cards in the air as all of the adults gathered around. Steve could sense the tension between the group, Y/N huddling beside him away from the others only solidifying his assumption.

“We have four rooms.” Rebecca announced flipping through the keys.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek praying he wouldn’t be sharing a room with Harold. He would lose his mind if he had to be trapped in a room with him. He would rather get back in the Volkswagen for another few hours than spend them with Harold.

Rebecca opened her mouth but was silenced by Steve. They hadn’t discussed who would share a room, but Steve wasn’t blind to the looks everyone was sharing. “Rebecca and Natasha.” Steve tested earning a slight nod from the Widow. He knew she didn’t trust Rebecca yet and would feel better keeping an eye on her. “Jane and Jaime.” Y/N’s shoulders visibly relaxed beside Steve, so he continued. “Harold and Beck.” Bucky practically leaped for joy. Not only did he not have to share a room with Harold, Harold also wouldn’t get to share a room with his sister or teammates. “Bucky and I will take the end.”

Harold nodded, opening his palm awaiting his key. “I’ll wake the kids.” Rebecca nodded, passing the keys to their respectful owners.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Y/N hummed lost in thought as she spread her hands along the mattress. The springs threatened to stab her palms even through the quilt. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed, but a bed was a bed.

“You seem distracted.” Jaime observed, plopping herself on her identical bed, the quilt just as flashy as the gold and maroon wallpaper. The rug was a shade of crimson. Everything was practically red.

Y/n sent the teen a tight-lipped smile. “Just taking everything in.” Mimicking the young girl, Y/N plopped on the bed facing Jaime. “I’ve never had a sleepover when I was a kid, this should be fun.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Never?”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t exactly have the time or friends.”

Jaime nodded. “What about your parents?” She asked brushing a stand of dark hair behind her ear.

With a shrug Y/N collapsed on the bed. She knew she had parents somewhere out there, but she doesn’t remember them. She wondered if they were alive, if she had siblings, or if they missed her but it doesn’t matter. “I didn’t know them.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Jaime whispered.

Y/N frowned, pushing herself up. “What about Rebecca?”

Jaime smiled. “She’s great. Tells us about the family a lot so in a way I feel like I know my parents.”

The corners of Y/N’s lips twisted up. She knew Rebecca was an amazing storyteller. Rebecca’s stories had gotten Y/N though some tough times, so she was elated to hear someone else had a similar experience.

“What about Harold?” Y/N questioned, wondering the young girl’s thoughts on the man Bucky couldn’t seem to stand.

“He’s great too. Picks us up after school and comes to all of the extracurriculars. A bit overprotective but he means well. Guess he’s the closest thing to a father.”

Beck’s fingers couldn’t move fast enough over the keyboard of his phone. While he shared an eerily similar face to the Winter Soldier, he was still attractive. Before they left to find the entrance to the Wolf Spider ops, Beck had landed a date with a cute girl in his grade.

“How long is this trip going to be?” Beck huffed from his spot on the bed.

“Hot date?” Harold joked.

If only he knew. “I’m trying to make plans.”

Harold rolled his eyes, as he stood in front of the tv flipping through the channels. “Why don’t you get off the phone and spend some time with your family.” It was more of a demand than a suggestion.

Beck scoffed. “Aunt Becca seems pretty busy with her friends, and I’ll just end up fighting with Jaime.”

Harold nodded, settling on the news. He made his way toward his mattress beside Beck, a frown etched in on his lips. “What about Bucky?” He had to resist rolling his eyes at the man’s instance of being called James by only him.

Beck shrugged. “What about him?” It’s not like the guy had been in his life the whole time. He just randomly popped up one day and now Beck was expected to call him uncle.

With a raised eyebrow, Harold explained. “What do you think about him?”

The phone Beck had been preoccupied with suddenly went dark from lack of attention. Sure, Becca seemed to think Bucky was good enough to open her home to him, but he was also her brother. Then again, he was the Winter Soldier. Everyone knew what he was capable of, what he had done. He didn’t hate the guy; he just didn’t know him so that’s what he went with. “I don’t know.”

Steve watched Bucky as he paced around the room, his movements aggressive. He didn’t want to pry but he couldn’t fix the situation if everyone else knew the issue but him.

The captain cleared his throat, arms crossed as his eyes followed his best friend. Bucky’s hands paused inside his duffle bag, stands of deep brown locks falling in his line of eyesight but still managing to meet Steve’s blue eyes from across the room.

“What happened out there?”

Bucky snapped his head back towards the duffle bag on the bed before him. More hair falling to cover his expression. The last thing he wanted was to lash out on another person. Steve didn’t deserve it and he knew he could tell his best friend anything, but he knew if spoke up, Steve would go up to bat for him every time. It’s who Steve was, even before the serum; he was a fighter.

“‘M fine.”

More digging. More aggression. Bucky could see Steve step around the other side of his bed out of the corner of his eye. The closer Steve got the more frantic Bucky’s movements became. “God, where is it?” Bucky snapped, dumping his bag on the bed.

Steve searched the sea of clothes on the quilt, then his friend’s face for any answers. Stopping between the two beds Steve ran a hand through his blonde hair. “You know I value your opinion, Buck. If something’s not right, you need to tell me.”

Bucky froze.

With one hand on his hip and the other holding his forehead Steve sighed. “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

“Fuck you.” Bucky gritted.

The hand on Steve’s forehead dropped to his other waist. “This isn’t you, Buck. You’re hostile. I’ve only seen you this truculent when it involves the Soldier and your past.”

“I’m not him.” Bucky whispered.

Steve stepped closer feeling Bucky flinch beneath the hand on his shoulder. “Then help me understand why you’re riled up. Help me, help you.”

Bucky shrugged Steve’s hand off. He didn’t want to have to keep relying on Steve to save him. Ignoring Steve, a bright light lit up from beneath the pile of clothes. The brunette snatched the phone up, relieved he found the phone he’d been searching for.

Steve recognized his friend wasn’t going to open up, so he changed his tactic. A grin graced his face at the image staring back at him from the brunette’s phone. “Nice background.”

Bucky clutched the phone to his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed facing Steve so he couldn’t see his screen. His hair covered the light blush dusting his cheeks. Steve sat on his own bed facing Bucky. His palms rested on his knees.

“She didn’t have any pictures, so I took one.”

Steve nodded. “And you made it your background.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. He knew what Steve was insinuating but he denied it. “She doesn’t have a phone. Meant a lot to her so figured she could at least see it whenever without needing me to get in the phone.”

Steve held up his hand. “No need to explain.” That was the Bucky Steve knew. He noticed Bucky’s muscles went lax. No matter how strong Bucky was, he was also delicate. “Regardless, I’m happy for you.”

Bucky said nothing.

“You care for her, Buck. Anyone can see that, even if it’s not romantic. Whatever it is that’s been going on with you today scared her.”

Blue orbs met Steve’s and he knew he had him. Bucky fought for people the same as Steve. The brunette had stepped into every fight he found Steve in before the serum. The blonde knew if the brunette wouldn’t get help for himself, he would for others because Steve was the same way.

“When I came out of the office she clung to my side. I could feel the tension between the rest of you. I know the ride here was less than desirable, but this isn’t you. If you won’t help me, help you, then at least help her.” Steve pleaded.

Silence. Bucky made no move to speak. The only sign that he was still with Steve was the twitch in his right hand while his left tightened around the phone.

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” Bucky began. “The car ride already made me miserable. Then Harold pissed me off. Nat’s been giving me the cold shoulder since she found out I knew about the Wolf Spider ops and then she took his side.”

CRASH.

Natasha sat up in her bed. Her eyes struggled to see her surroundings in the dark room.

“Did you hear that?” Rebecca whispered.

Natasha pressed a finger to her lip while her other hand snaked down the side of her bed to grab the gun beneath the mattress.

Rebecca gasped. “Natasha watch-”

Natasha was swiftly on her feet and across the room, gun pointed directly at the intruder a foot in front of her. She wasn’t quick enough. Using the fact that Natasha just woke up, the figure was able to pull Natasha’s gun from her grasp; however, not without receiving a foot to the chest. The intruder clutched the front of the red head’s shirt, spinning her underneath her arm before slamming her face into the wall. Then pulling her back by the back of her collar into the wall behind her.

Natasha was able to grab the dark figure by the throat and push her against the cabinet in the small kitchen space. A yelp escaped the figure as the Widow shoved her on the counter. “Stay down.” Natasha demanded she heard a screech and was smashed over the head by a glass plate.

Rebecca watched in horror as Natasha and the intruder danced with knives and wondered if the others were safe. It was obvious to Rebecca that both fighters excelled far past anything she could do so joining Natasha was not an option. Did she have time to call someone? Perhaps a text, so the intruder wouldn’t know. Was anyone up, would anyone answer?

Moments later the door slammed open, the light switch was flipped blinding Rebecca and the two currently strangling each other with a curtain.

“Yelena?” Bucky stalked towards the two pulling the curtain from their grasps.

Natasha froze as her eyes adjusted. Sure, enough panting on the floor beside her was her baby sister. She fought to scramble to her feet, letting out a coughing fit as Bucky seized Yelena’s bicep and drug her to the wooden dining chair. The white curtain weaving between her arms and the back of the chair as she continued to pant.

Steve assed the damage in the room. There was no way the damage would go unnoticed. Their cover would be blown the minute they told the office. Apart from the shock on Rebecca’s face she was okay. Natasha sported a few cuts and red marks that would definitely turn into bruises: her sister sporting matching injuries.

When Bucky was done securing the knot he stalked around the front of the chair. “What are you doing here?”

A cocky smirk from Yelena turned Bucky’s face sour. “The Winter Soldier.”

He wanted to correct her, but she would only use the information to toy with him, so instead he remained silent.

Natasha sat on the floor wiping blood from her nose with her sleeve. “He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore.”

Yelena pursed her lips. “And I assume you are no longer a Widow, yet you use the name to save the world. The same name you used to kill people with.” Yelena chuckled. “Same person. You just use the skills differently.”

“Enough!” Steve barked. His arms fixed across his chest taking on an intimidating persona. Unfortunately, Yelena doesn’t scare easily.

Her eyes lit up at the sight behind Steve in the doorway. “Ah, Jane Doe. Now it is one big reunion.”

Bucky whipped around confirming with his own eyes Y/N was standing in the doorway. Harold behind her.

“Yelena? What are you doing here?” Y/N stepped around Steve. “I heard commotion from next door but-” She trailed off examining the room. Holes in the wall, curtains on the floor, glass everywhere, and a bloody Natasha and Yelena.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Yelena brushed off the lingering eyes.

“Yelena.” Natasha growled. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

A copper taste filled her mouth causing her to spit on the floor. The blood mixed with the crimson carpet creating a slightly darker spot.

“Fine.” Her thick Russian accent took over. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Natasha hissed.

“I mean, one minute I’m fighting you and the next I’m fighting for my life.” Rolling her head, she groaned. “Did you have to hit me that hard?”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “You attacked me.”

“Dreykov has been brainwashing Widows. I think the fight set me straight.”

Everyone in the room went rigid. If Yelena was here Dreykov must know where they’re at.

“Who else knows you're here?” Steve was the first to ask.

Yelena shook her head, licking her lips. “No one. I was sent out with no location. I found you all on my own.” She beamed proud of herself. “I don’t report until after the mission.”

“And if you don’t report?”

Turning towards Rebecca Natasha whispered. “They’re killed.”

“Can you untie me? This is quite uncomfortable.”

Bucky dismissed the question with his own. “How many other Widows are out there looking for us?”

“Including the ones in this room?” The blonde Widow toyed with them eyeing Natasha and Y/N. “None that I know of.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had just gotten free; she didn’t want to be controlled anymore.

“Let her go.”

“What?” Rebecca’s eyes widened in fear. “She attacked us.”

Natasha stood up on shaky legs. “She attacked me.” Her eyes narrowed at Rebecca. “She’s not being controlled anymore.”

“What if she goes back to Dreykov. Then this is all for nothing. I have kids in the next room. I can’t risk that.”

Scanning Yelena, Natasha shook her head. “She won’t report.”

“How can you be so sure?” Harold asked.

Bucky understood. There was nothing better worth fighting for once you’re in control of your own mind again than your freedom. Without a response Bucky was behind Yelena untying the knots.

“Because, she's my sister.” Natasha offered rather than an actual response.

Yelena hummed, rubbing her wrists.

“Stay the night?” Natasha asked. She hadn’t seen her sister in years. They probably wouldn’t see each other again. She wanted to make the most of the small window they’ve been given. “We can go out.”

Pretending to think about it, Yelena nodded. “As long as drinks are on you.”

“Rebecca, you can stay with me and Jaime.” Y/N offered.

Rebecca could only nod.

A soft tapping roused Bucky from his sleep. Well, he hadn’t actually been sleeping. More like laying with his eyes closed. His feet slapped the rug, but the carpet absorbed any sound. The tapping continued outside of the room unaware of any life inside the room. Bucky plucked the wooden door wide open catching the person on the other end off guard. Y/N.

“What are you doing out here this late?”

Goosebumps littered her skin from the cool breeze. The t-shirt doing a poor job at protecting her skin from the air. Bucky himself had only been in a pair of boxers when he answered the door. Steve hadn’t returned since Natasha and Yelena left. Bucky was alone.

“Can I come in?”

Bucky pushed the door open further allowing her to enter the room. Her eyes took in the room, the layout identical to her own room and Natasha’s. The only thing difference was the blankets and pillow on the floor next to the bed. The soft click of the door drew her attention back to the super-soldier.

“You’re sleeping on the floor?”

He shrugged. “‘S more comfortable.”

Y/N nodded glancing back at the messy blankets. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Bucky shook his head walking further into the room. “What are you doing up?”

A sigh escaped Y/N lips while she clenched and unclenched her hands. “I’m tingly.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“It's been a while. She wants to come out. I need to shift but I can’t in my room with Jaime. Steve is well,” She spun around the room searching for him. “Not here. Natasha is with Yelena, and I can’t go to Harold with Beck in the room. Rebecca doesn’t want them to know anything.”

Bucky frowned at the idea that she would even consider going to Harold. He may be in on the mission, but he doesn’t know her.

“I just need a place to shift and for someone to watch her for a bit. It’s going to be another long car ride tomorrow so now is my only time.”

Bucky was already digging though his duffle bag and sliding on a pair of sweatpants, a Henley, socks, and a single glove. Y/N felt guilty forcing the man to dress in his own room and watch a kid.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you.”

Bucky waved her off, securing the glove in place. “I missed her anyway and beats staying up alone. Go ahead.”

He braced himself for the inevitable, the moment she saw him again.

“‘Key!”

Bucky grunted as the little girl tackled him but remained in place.

“Hey babydoll.”

“Rogers!”

Steve turned outside of the motel finding his fiery red headed friend bouncing towards him.

“We need to talk.”

Steve held out a hand, a gesture for her to lead the way. He followed her to the side of the motel, watching as she leaned against the wall.

“I don't trust Rebecca.” Natasha whispered. “Yelena doesn’t remember much before the fight, but she found us pretty quick. She didn’t move a muscle when Yelena broke in the room.”

Steve frowned. “Not everyone is a fighter, Nat. She texted Bucky.”

The Widow shook her head. “I’m telling you something is off.”

Steve hung his head. “We should talk to Bucky.”

Natasha shook her head. “He’s too close. He’ll just deny it and get upset.”

She was right. Bucky had been hostile enough the whole day without the added stress.

“Then we keep it to ourselves and keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground.”

Natasha nodded. “Agreed. Come on, it’s late. I’ll walk you to your room.”

Steve grinned following the red head back around the corner. “You can stay with me and Buck.” Opening the door, he whispered in case Bucky was asleep. “Rebecca is with Jaime and Jane.”

“No, she’s not.” Natasha smirked.

Sitting on the floor in front of a small table Y/N and Bucky were doing a puzzle. Excited to see the other Y/N, Steve was about to push the door open further but a hand on his chest stopped him.

“Don’t. This is the calmest he’s been all day.”

“But-”

“Look at his hands.” Natasha insisted. Bucky’s right gloved hand held Y/N’s left while his left worked with her right to put the puzzle together. “He’s building something with his left hand. She has him creating instead of destroying. Don’t you dare go in there and ruin that.”

A sad smile crept along Steve’s lips. “She’s been doing it all along.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “The crayons. She was breaking them on purpose and crossing the room to get him to fix them when I was right there.”

Natasha pulled the door shut gently as to not alert the pair inside. “She’s always been intuitive. That little girl probably knows more about each of us than we know about each other.” With a hand on Steve’s shoulder, she guided him towards the office. “Come on, we’ll get another room.”

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@nelly-belly @small-death-and-codeine @amberritonicole @hallecarey1 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @val-writesstuff @rhiamaymay @lilhoodhippie @buckysbarne

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txemrn · 3 years ago

Note

I feel like Tatum would have the best comeback for asshole partners asking for 'the husband stitch'

Oh, anon... the evil laugh I just did when I read this! You know she probably has a book of comebacks. This might not be her absolute best, but I hope this one will give you a smile. Thank you so, so much for the inspiration! 💜

Summary: Tatum is called into Ethan's office to discuss her colorful interaction with a patient's husband.

Word count: ~1120

Warning: Mature audience; language; medical discussion

A/N: Some characters and plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry; this is not beta'd, so please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

A deafening silence plagues Ethan’s glass-enclosed office. Anxiously tapping his fingers on his wooden desk, the chief of medicine glares first at his watch before staring at the door. Growing impatient for his next meeting, he rests his elbow on his chair, his fingertips massaging his closed eyes.

Where is she?

The door angrily swings open, the abrupt clatter demanding Ethan's attention. In waddles one of his providers, donned in fuchsia scrubs and a pink and yellow Power Rangers scrub cap. She storms up to Ethan's desk, placing her hands on her hips.

"You wanted to see me?" She huffs.

Ethan motions to a chair behind her, inviting her to sit down. Raising an eyebrow, she looks at her watch. Letting out an irritating scoff, she flops into the seat and crosses her arms, her eyes locked on the crystal gaze of her boss.

"Dr. Erikson, I–"

"'Dr. Erikson'? Really, Ethan Jonah?" Tatum growls at her husband.

"Dr. Erikson," he enunciates louder, his eyebrows furrowing. "I assume you know why you're here."

Tatum lours. "Oh, please enlighten me, Dr. Ramsey."

"I got a call about a Mr. Flanagan being upset with his wife’s care–"

Tatum blows a raspberry with her lips, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

Ethan takes a moment, staring at his defiant wife before continuing. "Apparently you–" he picks up a notepad with a handwritten list, "--went against the patient’s wishes and you made an inappropriate comment about the husband's–"

Tatum interrupts with a sardonic chuckle. "'Against the patient’s wishes'? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ethan closes his eyes, exhaling heavily. Hormones, it's just hormones. He sits back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee before folding his hands together. "Okay… how about you tell me what happened?"

"Gladly," she smirks, her face turning crimson with rage. She stands up, readjusting her snug scrub top before pacing. "That man is an asshole." Ethan stifles his smile, but gestures for her to keep going. "I had mentioned in the clinic that this baby was measuring large for gestational age. I believed–and I was fucking right–her pelvimetry could handle a vaginal delivery, which is exactly what she wanted–and she got. But I told her that I would strongly recommend pain management in the form of an epidural."

Ethan casually shrugs his shoulders. "Okay. So?"

"Well, Mr. Macho's–" Tatum deepens her voice, rolling her shoulders forward to pretend like she has big muscles, "--mother and grandmothers and aunts never needed an epidural, and they were--" Tatum air quotes, "--'weaker than his wife, so that's not an option'."

Ethan bows his head, holding a finger over his mouth to hide his grin. Oh, that poor fucker…

"So, guess who came in 6 cm dilated, crying for an epidural?" Tatum stares at Ethan, giving a told-ya-so grin, nodding sarcastically. "Yeah," she slaps her palm on the desk in anger. "This asshole finally agrees to let her have pain medicine in her IV."

"Well, what did Mrs. Flanagan want?"

"Oh," Tatum flings her arms in the air, "whatever her douche-y husband wanted." Tatum grows quiet, watching the everyday hospital scramble through Ethan’s office window. "So, of course, the IV pain medicine barely gets her to relax because her labor is progressing rapidly, and it's time to push." She sighs dramatically.

"Out of control?"

"Reagan from The Exorcist had more control," she shakes her head as Ethan purses his lips, trying his best not to laugh. "I did everything in my power to support her perineum; I tried my best to get her to gain control of herself and just," she exhales quickly, her body deflating. "Luckily, she didn't blow out her bottom; that kid was almost 10 pounds with a 15-and-a-half inch head. And virtually no molding."

"Damn."

"Pssh, yeah," she walks back towards the desk. "But still, it wouldn't have been so bad if that dick hadn't prevented her from getting an epidural." Tatum gingerly lowers herself back into the chair, calming herself down as she cradles her head in her hand.

"Speaking of dicks," Ethan starts, standing from his desk and sauntering to his personal coffee machine. "Mr. Flanagan said you made a comment about his?"

Tatum tosses her head back, roaring with evil laughter. "So, get this," she wiggles herself forward to sit up straight. "While I'm repairing his poor wife's fileted vagina, that asshole dared to ask me to put in a husband stitch." Tatum rolls her eyes, her voice becoming sardonically whiney. "Oh, you're so funny and original, you fucking asswipe!"

Ethan mixes in some hazelnut creamer in with the cup of coffee as he glances back to his frustrated wife. "A what? 'Husband stitch'?"

"You know," she raises an eyebrow, "to supposedly tighten things up." She growls to herself, shaking her head in disgust.

Ethan nods, remembering the uncouth term. "So, he asks for it, to which you said?"

"I explained to him that his wife's vagina is a perfect and normal postpartum size."

"Tate?"

"And," Tatum guiltily grins, "I simply observed the crotch area of his pants."

"And?"

"And I may have mentioned that... he would need way more than a stitch to accommodate for his small size."

"Tatum Ramsey!" Ethan busts out laughing as she innocently shrugs. He saunters to stand in front of her, leaning up against his desk. "Jesus fucking Christ, woman," he mutters.

"I'm not sorry," she states matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I know you aren't," Ethan chuckles, raising his eyebrows.

"So, what now?" She stands up, placing her hands on her hips. "Am I in trouble? Getting written up? What?"

"Nope, none of that." Tatum gives a curious look to her husband. He stands up, inching closer to her. "I just wanted to hear the story from you," he chuckles, smiling broadly. He slinks an arm endearingly around her shoulders. "Here," he hands her the coffee, "you need this."

She sighs, frowning, "But I've already had my one cup for the day this morning–"

Ethan tenderly places his large hand on her blossoming belly before rubbing it tenderly. "I think this little one is going to be just fine if you have an extra cup today."

"Rams, I–"

"Plus, I'd really like for my child to be born to a mother not locked behind bars." Ethan smirks. "Drink the damn coffee. Doctor's orders."

"You're lucky you're cute," Tatum attempts to scowl, but a thankful grin creeps across her face. She takes a sip of the piping hot cup of Joe and lets out a euphoric moan. "Oh my God, how do women go without a drop of this for nine months?"

Ethan chuckles, pressing his lips to her temple. "Probably the same ones with partners that request a husband stitch."

~🖤~

Tags (new tag list as of 9/26; please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):

PERMA

@21-wishes @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @ao719 @charlotteg234 @harleybeaumont @issabees @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @tessa-liam

ALL OPH

@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate

#husband stitch #can you say malpractice #open heart #choices oph #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices oph fanfic #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #tatum erikson #dr. tatum erikson #ethan x tatum #ethan ramsey x tatum erikson #ethan ramsey x f!oc #ethan ramsey x oc #tathan

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smutsonian · 4 years ago

Note

Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal

that smile on her face

bucky barnes x reader

summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.

warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz

masterlist

It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.

Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.

You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now.

When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.

Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.

“P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow.

He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.

You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.

“This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.

Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction.

“Should I just shoot you then, little girl?”

Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.

“Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?”

You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.

“You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.

When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.

“Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.

His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.

“Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…”

“I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.

“We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.

You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.

You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.

‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’

Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body.

If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…

“Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.

“She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.

“She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath.

The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position.

“We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.

“Need any help?”

“I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.

Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.

“Bucky…” He hears you mumble.

“What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.

“You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry.

“Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.

“Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders.

“You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.

Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.

“Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.

Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.

“Stay.”

Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.

“Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.”

“Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.

“Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.

“You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.

“Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.

“You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now.

“Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go.

Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.

Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.

He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.

“Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”

Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.

“Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.

“H-he did?”

“Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.

“Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.

“But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.

“D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.

Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.

Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you.

Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.

“Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.

“What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.”

“W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.

“You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.

“Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.

“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you.

He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.

A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.

“God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.

He gives it to you.

He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.

Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.

“Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.

The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.

“D-daddy, I’m gonna—”

“Fucking cum for me, princess.”

And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.

“Too much, daddy!”

“Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.

“Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…”

“Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.

“Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.

Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.

With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.

With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.

Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs.

He stops to look at him though.

“Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.

Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.

“Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.

Oh, how he loves that smile.

And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.

a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard @chrisevanisliterallysir

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

2K notes · View notes

a-muzzled-hound · 3 years ago

Text

WHUMPTOBER, DAY 2! "No where to run"

Trigger warning!!: Medical/asylum whump, mental ward/hospital, poor conditions, rage outburst, bottled up emotions

Hurley would be getting, minute by minute. He dashed through the narrow, stuffy hallways with some of the fluorescent lights flickering, with the asylum not being in the best condition it could be, to be quite honest but hey! It's doing it's best. With loud boots following quickly in a rush from afar, with brief second conversations of where hurley had ran too, hunting every corner hurley had went through

For context of course, hurley got into a huge fight which resulted in a near death for the other patient he’d be fighting with, being caused from the reasoning, the guy had kept on poking out every detail hurley had, his chipped, yellow, sharpened teeth any shark would have, his dirty tail, the ripped fabrics on his clothing from previous outbursts, the stains on his clothes aswell. More and more tiny details with the guy even pulling and poking at the details. Each one, being an insecurity hurley would bury deep underneath his anger, and for more sense, Hurley is part mako shark so, makes sense of how short tempered, aggressive, and violent he was.

And as his consequence from that. 4 Whole days in his cell, with only a styrofoam tray with only rice and an disposable cup of water, through the tray slot every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, same thing. And right now he was up ended, trying to escape. He did have an advantage over others in the mental hospital, his body strength was equivalent to, two of the guards, maybe even three if they didn’t know proper technique. With the only concern on his mind with the guards is if they had an tranquilizer dart? They definitely did. That’s why he had to keep running, til maybe an exit came up, that he could barge through? Only thing is this hallway had no exits to the outside so he had to keep on rushing through the halls

It was late at night. Atleast for the patients there, with it being 11 o clock. And curfew happening at 9 o clock. With most patients alsleep by now, considering there’s nothing fun to do, each sign above the doors displayed in bold red, giving an glow infact “LOCKED” With the cell number right underneath the signs, being less apparent as the signs were. It’s not like hurley had time to stop and read each cell number individually anyways.

Soon enough, he ran into an corner, he swore, yelling not in any control of his volume, out of breath with pure adrenaline pumping through his blood! “THERE’S SUPPOsED— TO BE A FUC-UCKING DOOR HERE!” He’d bang against the wall with his fist, any chance that the guards and the one doctor following behind, which had came in the first place, for treatment.

He’d spin behind, when it hit him suddenly as he was just catching his breath, that the doors that led, to a separate unit of the mental hospital was on the right side, with him taking the LEFT side, eyes widening while tightly clutching his chest, it felt like his heart was exploding, but.. He had told himself, he wasnt ging to stop running til he made it out!!

So of course he’d dash back to where he had came from, heading to the right hallway, blindly not seeing anyone there, not even hearing, all he could hear was his heart rate that was rather fast.

“GE- UGH!!”

Hurley stumbled a bit backwards, he was obviously not paying attention, bumping right into 2 guards that’d tightly be together acting as one wall. With hurleys glare louring to the guards quickly switching into an south paw stance, breathing even more at a faster rate.

“GET T-HEU FU-Ck-UCK!- GO!!” Taking a pause to stammer some air into his lungs. With his fists clenching themselves. There’d be 6 emergency response guards in total, with his eyes resembling just as daggers would, staring down its victim. Although, I think.. It’s obvious who’s winning this fight for once?

The doctor spoke up in a stern mannered voice, with the doctor folding his arms together in utter disapproval of hurleys escape attempt. Not to mention, the doctor really didn’t tolerate disobedience from anyone below him.

“We can go about this the easy way, do you even have the brains to think of that in the first place? Because you’re just digging yourself further into this mess you’ve made for yourself. First off, you threw about every tray you were given back out, cussing the person who was just trying to serve you, OUT. Through the tray slot mind you, and making your room an mess. We can still go about this the easy way.”

The doctor would pause staring down hurley, being greet with an equally deadly glare, inbetween the guards

“The next move is all yours.”

—--------

Of course hurley chose to do this the hard way, like he was going to just SURRENDER HIMSELF! To pricks! Jackasses! ASSHOLES!

“Like I’M, GOING TO DO THAT!” Hurley spat out, finally caught most of his breath spitting onto the floor just to piss them off even further, snarling through his bare teeth. With his eyes meeting one of the 9 guards faces that were probably ordered in a rush to get over here, considering his face wasn’t properly covered like the 8 other emergency response guards.

“Right.”

The doctor responded, in a stern tone, although it had a little disapproval, just shaking his head, backing up to make space

#whumptober2022 #whump scenario #nonhuman whumpee #defiant whumpee #whumpblr #whump things #medical whump #tumblr writers #angry whumpee #asylum #confrontation #day 2 #runway #whumpee #OC

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madamhatter · 3 years ago

Text

@mixandmatchupmuses / Spirited Away Bride.

"Mother, someone's on the rooftop... It might be a wizard." It was never second thought or a point of consideration for Sophie that fated night. She holds her arm, shielding her mother, squinting at the short-horned silhouette stalking on the rooftop. "Get inside, get inside--" Hurried orders leaves her lips, taking a step forward.

Yet the door to the shop does not ring. She glances over her shoulder with another rushed word, "Get inside! It'll be okay, I swear. As long as we--" And all was quiet.

Fanny was already shaking her head in disbelief. Her grey eyes moved between the stranger on the rooftop and herself. No sound leaves her trembling lips before she steps forward. Shaking arms anchor over Sophie's right arm, holding tightly.

The figure reveals itself to have a voice. Their focus is solely on them.

The eldest daughter's body stiffens while her brows lower, louring at the magenta-eyed terror on their roof. "Pick up? Like she's some kind of thing?" Indignation bleeds through her voice, muted voice gaining a surprising volume to it. Yet all sense of violent intent seems missing in her actions - only through her eyes can one tell her pure concentration on the figure. Not moving, only watching and waiting. Almost a scarily controlled state of mind as she weighs her options and feels her hands growing hotter from blood flow. "You're not laying a finger on her."

The figure disappears before their eyes. Sophie steps back, guarding her mother, while Fanny's hold tightens. Blonde tresses bury into Sophie's back shoulder, death grip over her daughter.

"I'm not letting a thing happen to you," she assures her mother, with conviction as clear as rain. There is a muffled voice against her shoulder, but her ears do not catch what Fanny says. A sob, no doubt. "Nothing is going to take you away from here, you hear? I refuse for that to happen. You're young; you have so much ahead." Another murmur against her, Fanny squeezing as hard as she can as if caught in a nightmare.

How much Sophie wished to shoulder those burdens, to remedy the terrors that try to further hurt an already bleeding family. Mister Hatter's loss remains an open wound for those who survive him - his widow and daughters. His mistakes still haunt them, too, hanging like vengeful ghosts over his beloved and first child.

In a vapor of sharp-winged bats, shadows fade suddenly from the ground, as once more the trespasser makes his presence seen. No way could this be a wizard. Sophie tells herself. Nothing of anything I read ever mentioned a magick of such capacity! Nothing in the books mentioned this..! But he has to be!

The shadowy figure is some meters away from the pair; the eldest daughter digs her heels into the floor, unbreaking their stare. Sadistic song greets their ears, Sophie's stomach churning and hands now fists and burning at each note gnaw at her patience. "A warning should be enough," she gives one more glance behind her. Her elbow shoved against Fanny, a warning now for her mother. "Git," she whispers through gritted teeth. Her narrowing eyes return again to the approaching figure. "Fanny Hatter will not be going with you anywhere anytime soon and never. Do you hear m--!"

"Give us more time. A day!" Fanny blurts from behind Sophie, raising her head. "Just a little more time. I'm not ready. We're not ready." Her arms pull Sophie's right arm, staggering the daughter back. "Is it... Oh god, Sophie. I love you," she holds the arm tighter.

It seems that no words would withstand the stranger's intentions. The closer he approaches, the more the eldest daughter braces herself. Yet her eyes flicker to her mother, pondering further on the exchange. Brows knit at the perplexion dawning on her.

"What? Mother--" It doesn't make much sense. "What is even going on?" Fanny recognized that man. There wasn't any doubt about that. Hadn't there been enough secrets already that harmed their family? Why must more bloom in the wake of Father's death?!

"It'll be fine." Had she bargained with this man her own life? To be whisked away after Father's death? No doubt to protect the family.

Without a flinch, Sophie turns over and raises her voice. As the unempathetic figure moved, her eyes glared, "I may not compare to Mother or anyone, may never be fit for anything. But, please, please take--"

A hand reaches, and Sophie buckles in place, forcing all her weight in place and trying to wriggle from her Mother's hold! One shove with her back, persistently trying to get her to run. Get out! Leave! Get inside the house!

Sophie's impassioned retaliation and protectiveness die upon touch, the stranger's hand naturally seeking her shoulder. Rigid and with stuttered breath in her throat, the young woman stares. In place, she stays at the plausible consequence of moving away. Sophie Hatter is compliant as always.

Her eyes widen after each new sentence spoken. Her eyes feebly move to try to find her hiding mother.

"Mum?"

"Sophie, there wasn't anything else I could do. Your sisters wouldn't have made it, but I know you can do it," a muffled sob from Fanny confesses as she nestles her face into Sophie's shoulder. "You're the only one--"

On a moonless night stands alone a daughter in the grip of a fae. Humble correction, it was actually a one-sided acquaintanceship. Familiarity dances in his magenta eyes, retaining composure as the horrific truth peeks from behind the shadows. The horrid weight of truth sinks Sophie's shoulders.

"I don't know how Martha or Lettie would've taken it. I know you wouldn't have wanted this for them either," Fanny's arms lower, loosening her hold, with her palms flat on Sophie's back. "They're only children. There's so much ahead of them."

"I know you would do anything for them."

What is this annoying sting in my eyes? Why is my chest squeezing? What is this agony?

"I...I wouldn't want any of that for them," Sophie confirms with a meek voice. Helpless eyes stare at her newer keeper. One home's burden moved to be another home's burden. That's how she sees it. "We have to protect them, make sure they're happy. You too, nothing should ever take that away," she says with the hints of resolve in her voice. But her hands tremble.

The eldest daughter couldn't feel her mother's weight against her or the touch she sought out. A comfort that all children wanted, the feeling of security and protection from the cruel world. But why should she consider herself worthy of such things? After all, she was the failure that brought the worst if she tried to seek out her fortune.

The root of all their problems must've started and continued because of her - the eldest daughter is prone to that.

"Tell Martha and Lettie I love them," pleads Sophie. "Tell them to stop pulling another's hair or tearing at their clothes when fighting. They're growing, and there's so much ahead for them. Please let them know."

While her mother could not see her face, her unfortunate fiancé could see the corner of her eyes dampening. Tears never poured out, yet the image of the copper-haired sister leaving behind her sisters, the very children she raised, brings all unbearable misery to her eyes. It is the reality that was inevitable, the one where her usefulness ended upon them not needing her anymore.

Moonlight paints her frown and downdraught eyes, her youthfulness betrays her emotions, and the conviction does not hide her dread. Her lips wobble as she holds her scarred palm towards the newly awaited fiance. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Vanrouge. I am my father's daughter, and I will see everything through. Let us settle what was made in the past."

Get with it already.

"Do as you must."

#mixandmatchupmuses #( verse: indeterminate )#long post #emotional manipulation tw #long post tw #[ THIS IS GON BE FUN... BUT KINDA GONNA SUCK TOO ]

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roseraintears · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Leo -Dark seven au part2

@reading0mens Hope you enjoy it, I put a bit under read more because it’s kinda long XD

Leo‘s world is shattered after Jason‘s death

He knows it was a storm or fire

He knows that his cheating death caused the fates to take Jason away

At Jason‘s funereal he cries into Piper‘s shoulder

The boy that told him he was important, that made him believe he was worth something was gone

His sorrow makes him burst into flames and as Piper lets go he sinks over his friends grave

Things only got worse from there

He can‘t look at Calypso anymore

She was the reason he cheated death after all

He thinks about how she always complains about him, never truly helped him as Jason did

He goes back to Camp half-blood not caring that there is a battle coming for the Romans

He couldn‘t help them anyway

He locks himself in Bunker 9 building machines to distract himself from the cruel reality

Jason Grace was dead and he was alive

Calypso tries to get through to him but he yells at her that he regrets having saved her

He doesn‘t mean because of her of course but it is still her that he cheated death for

Calypso leaves in tears

Leo continues building and as his hands work on inventions his mind goes to Hera

Why didn‘t she save Jason?

He was her hero, wasn‘t he?

The bridge between greeks and Romans

So what kept her from saving him?

Anger begins to rage in him

Maybe Jason was just a tool for her

A weapon she could use and then forget

A scream breaks out of him and flames start floating over everything

He begins to despise the queen of Olympus just like he once hated Gea

At least Gea never acted like she wanted to protect them

He feels a desire to make Hera pay, to play with her just like she did with him

He knows that he can't take revenge on Hera all by himself Isn't there an emperor in new york

A plan starts to form in his head

Nyssa brings him the news

Camp Jupiter beat Caligula and Commodus now only Nero is left

The only change for Leo to take revenge on Hera

He leaves in the early morning

He is not nervous only strangely excited

Finding the emperor was not hard he could oversee the whole city on his metal dragon

„What do you want demigod?“, Nero asks coldly sitting on his throne arrogant as always

Leo only smiles darkly „I want to treat Hera just like she treated me and my friends.“

Nero has picked up many demigods from the streets but this one is special

He has an almost feral look in his eyes like he would be ready to burn the world

„And how exactly do plan to do that? Nero asks his voice full of curiosity

After hearing the plan Nero allows Leo to stay

He has a big room full of machines, engines automatons

Leo loves it

He builds robots small ones at first but his anger makes his talents grow

Somehow he manages to equip them with laser eyes ten arms that shoot fire canons, their fingers made of blades

He makes other inventions to ones that he prays to one day use on a certain goddess

A part of him is terrified of his work but another screams justice for Jason so he continues

Two weeks later Leo gives Hazel and Frank a surprise visit

They are happy to see him, they are his friends after all

Leo laughs with them, jokes as if everything was normal

One night he and Frank even mourn Jason together

When he feels real tears form in his eyes he is grateful for Franks hug

He can tell that Frank wants him to feel loved just like Jason once did

He is thankful and when Frank leaves his firewood feels heavy in Leo‘s hand

The next day horns are blowing, demigods scream in terror

A huge robot army is threatening to enter new Rome

The Legion is horrified but they swore to protect the city so they get ready for battle

None of them is showing their fear when they stand between the robots and their city

Reyna and Frank stand before their cohorts but Frank is not too worried

Those robots are made of metal and he sees in Hazel‘s smile that she knows this too

The daughter of Pluto raises her hand to save those she loves

But then a voice close to her speaks up coldly

„Hazel stop “, She almost did not recognize it

Leo stands a few feet away eyes gleaming darkly, Franks stick lays in his hand

Franks feels a cold dread in his stomach

„Leo…...what are you doing? Frank asks unable to hide his fear

Leo lets out a pained humourless laugh, I‘m destroying the god's ego by crashing their glorious temples.“ he explains and Hazel feels her heartbreak at his words

How is this the same boy who made her smile with his jokes

Reyna curses“ How dare you betray us? After Jason-“

Leo interrupts her with a mad shout

„That's exactly my point! Jason died because Hera for some reason refused to save him. We are all just puppets for the gods don‘t you see that!“I'm trying to save us from them but if you don‘t surrender now I will be forced to let you suffer for the god's crimes.“, Leo explains his tone almost hysteric

There is silence for a moment

The robots stand like dead status, new Rome's citizens glance towards them from behind the barrier, the roman soldiers are glaring at Leo

„Romans don‘t surrender.“, Frank finally responds his voice brave, his eyes full of pain

Leo smirks like he expected that answer

His whole body bursts into flame

Frank falls to the ground as his stick is swallowed by fire

Pain ignites in his heart, he hears Hazel‘s scream

He looks at his girlfriend a hand stretched towards her as if to hold her one last time

She stretches her hand towards him as well, her mouth moving as she sobs

A weak scream leaves his lips when a Robots blade impales her neck the blade coming out bloody at her throat

Her hand sinks, her body collapses into a puddle of her blood and Frank‘s world goes black

Leo stares at their unmoving bodies

The stick in his hands is now only ashes

He knows he should feel something

He should feel remorse

Instead, he just feels empty

The gods could have saved them but they didn‘t

If the gods would just be better he would not have done this

The gods are to blame not him

So he joins the massager

The demigods are fighting bravely but nothing prepared them to fight eight feet high machines

Blades are piercing through their bodies, the fire burns their flesh, dozens get trampled

Leo is in the middle of it all shooting fireballs burning everyone who gets too close

A fireball hits Reyna‘s hair and the Praetor is doomed to a firey cruel death

Soon the city falls, Terminus barrier is not strong enough to hold the metal beasts off

New Romes citizens are slaughtered in their streets, their buildings, temples destroyed

Their screams ring in Leo‘s ears but he continues to fight

This is for Jason. This is for Jason

He keeps using this excuse even though a part of him tells him that Jason wouldn‘t have wanted this

When Leo the last screams finally have died new Rome is in ruins

On Olympus, the gods are raging

Their pride has never been attacked like this

Hera looks at Leo wandering through the dead city with worry

He was her hero once just like Jason but now he seems …..changed

Maybe somehow she could convince him to come back to her

She is his grandmother after all

So she goes down to him in the form of his old babysitter

Leo growls when he sees he sees her

„Now you decide to show up? After I slaughtered thousands of People? Wow you are a horrible patron goddess!“, He snarls

Hera looks at him in pity

„Leo I know you are angry but this is madness. Jasons death was in the hand of the fates and I couldn‘t do anything sometimes even we gods are powerless. Don‘t go down this road my hero it will only bring you to suffering.“ Hera warns but that only makes Leo more furious.

They are standing in the smouldering ruins of her city and yet all she can do is makeup excuses

„You ……..you are so arrogant Hera! First, you act like my protector, my babysitter for years and then you don‘t even save my mother, then you give me fake memories about my best friend and then when I‘m finally growing closer to him you watch him die too. I bet if I hadn‘t killed Frank today you would have done it! Jason Frank and I were just pawns whose lives you controlled and that you now don‘t need anymore!“, Leo yells his hands balled into fists.

Hera listens to her face showing guilty embarrassment

She is too lost in thought, that is why she sees the net that Leo throws over her too late

The strings are made of celestial bronze but when she tries to escape the net only grows tighter cutting into her skin

Leo smiles at her in amusement.

„I hope you enjoy your new home your high majesty., He mocks

Hera realized that this was all part of his plan

Destroying new Rome to get her attention, louring her here so he could capture her

„Let me go immediately demigod or my wrath-“. She is cut off when Leo gags her

He has enough to listen of listening to her

He just wants to visit Jason's grave one last time

Leo returns to Nero with his army and with Hera

She is carried by one of the Robots trapped in metal strings

Nero welcome Leo with open arms

This child is a blessing even better than Meg Mc Caffrey

He tells Leo that he wants to wait with his attack on the greeks

He wants the news about camp Jupiter to reach them first

Leo agrees and grins at Hera

The goddess tries to change from even her real one but the strings only golden

„They drain your godly essence. The emperors are no strangers to dark magic Hera. You won‘t get out of here unless I allow it.“, Leo mocks once he has taken her to his room

The image of Her lying helpless and restrained on the ground gives him chills of joy

He picks out a knife from his toolbelt, Heras's eyes widen

„Now let's see how you like being hurt without someone there to help.“ Leo muses and drives the blade into the goddess's arm.

He smiles at the golden blood and Heras agonized groan

He is going to have so much fun with her

Leo almost feels disappointed when Nero tells him that it‘s time for the attack

By now all demigods know what happened

Chiron evacuated Camp half-blood taking the younger Campers to safety

Nero knows it‘s only a matter of time until the rest disappears to

So Leo and the emperor fly to Long island alone with Festus who hold Hera in his claws

The robots are deactivated until Leo's command, Nero wants to give his enemies hope of winning

A handful of Campers is already waiting for them at the top of Half-blood hill

Leo winces when he sees Percy and Nico

He had forgotten the people close to Frank and Hazel

„Surrender or face the same end as your roman friends!“, Nero demands

Percy spits to the ground

Nico gets out his sword his eyes piercing into Leo soul

„Do you think Jason still loves you after what you did Leo?“, Nico asks coldly

Leo‘s heart feels like it‘s torn apart

Nico‘s words are the truth in the back of his mind. The truth that his lust for revenge drowned out

Jason, sweet kind Jason would never love someone who killed his friends

Leo feels panic, he has to move forward he has to distract himself from his thoughts

„Let that be my concern.“, Leo spats and drops Hera to the ground

Her body is covered in deep cuts, golden blood covers the strings

The attack begins

Leo decides to take out Percy first

He shoots fire but Percy uses the lake to his advantage

Water and fire clash together in the air squishing as they meet

Leo gets more furious

He creates big flames that lit the threes next to Percy on fire, tiny flames to grasp Percy‘s hair

Percy seems to be prepared for everything

He protects himself with shields of water and creates tentacles in an attempt to drag Leo to the ground

Their fight is hard, full of hatred and so none of them notices Nico‘s fight against Nero

Until the emperor screams while he's being sucked into the earth

Neros household, all young brainwashed demigods panic and run

Leo yells in frustration

Why did he choose such bad allies?

Nico collapses from the uses of his underworld powers, the grass around him black

Leo wants to take his chance and flames flicker from his hand#

But then a big hand of water grabs him and lifts him off his dragon

Leo is taken by surprise but soon blind rage follows

„Now!“, He hears Percx yell and when he turns his head he sees Annabeth cutting Heras net with Nico‘s stygian sword

Desperation and fear will Leo

„No please!“, He Beggs but Percy drops him on the ground without mercy

Hera although wounded immediately grows to full size her eyes blazing with fury

„I WARNED YOU MY HERO NOW FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS.“Hera yells her form glowing

„No wait!“, Percy says his eyes widened in shock

Leo knows what is coming, he has seen it once before

Tears of sorrow, of fear, of anger stream down his cheeks

He wonders if Hades will let him see Jason again after he murdered his daughter

In a last attempt to turn his fate he reaches for his toolbelt

But then he stops

How can he destroy the greeks after they took him in after they tried to make him belong somewhere?

His thoughts wander to Piper and his heart is split by deep guilt

Leo Valdez opens his eyes and stares right into the godly flames that even he can‘t survive

His last thought is a prayer of forgiveness to all he has killed in his path for revenge

Leo is buried at Camp half-blood

There are a lot of discussions about it but no one can think of a better place

Hera assures the Campers that in a few years there will be new roman demigods

This does not help the losses though

Percy and Annabeth spend many nights crying with each other about their lost friends, their lost future

Will has to hold Nico for countless nights too, Has to remind him that he always will be there for him

Apollo becomes a god again

And in California Piper Mclean cries out her prayers to the gods

She prays for them to free her out of these new fake mist reality

She prays for them to let her wake up in a world where her best friends are still alive

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Honestly I wished Hoo went more into the fact that frank Jasons and Leos lives were all controlled by Hera! That would have been such an interesting dynamic!

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #dark!leo #dark seven #valgrace #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #trials of apollo #the burning maze

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