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screampied · 5 months

Text

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. ��huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

10K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 8 months

Text

The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends.

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone.

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera-

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along?

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this?

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo.

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

“I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold.

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods.

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not-

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment.

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone.

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand.

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day.

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core.

Ungovernable Persephone.

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.”

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison.

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still…

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling.

My darling…

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort?

No.

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself.

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away?

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack.

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth.

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld.

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them?

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you.

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool.

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What?

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck.

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from.

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic.

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town?

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have?

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway?

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them?

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose?

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I��m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.

Fuck.

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool.

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always.

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him?

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods.

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough.

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more.

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are.

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #AIV #ghost x reader #hades and persephone #AIV(OFK)#modern retelling

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doumadono · 6 months

Note

Babyyyyy! Congratulations 💙🧡💙🧡 I am so happy to see you thrive 💗

Can I get some mint and raspberry ice-creams served in a cone, with some maple syrup on top? 😚 (pro hero au with pro hero Dabi)

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!reader, pussy fingering/eating, p in v, dom!Dabi

A/N: thank you very much for your support, sweetheart! I hope you enjoy these headcanons ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST • MY HERO ACADEMIA Pro hero Dabi - headcanons • PRO HERO DABI & INTERN!BAKUGO

Dabi, the renowned pro hero, returns home after a day of saving lives and battling villains. His muscles are tense, his spirit is high, and his desire is burning like the blue flames that dance at his fingertips as he get inside his spacious apartment. His eyes are dark and tired at first, but there's a spark that ignites as soon as he looks at you, his lips curling upwards in a wry grin.

You've been waiting for him for hours, eager to provide some much-needed relief. You missed your boyfriend oh so much.

Dabi's strong hands grip your waist, pulling you close. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You can taste the smoky remnants of his quirk on his tongue as it dances with yours. Your hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders. You break the kiss, panting. "Touya," you breathe, your cheeks flushed.

"Yes, darling?" Dabi's fingers trace the hem of your shirt. He smirks, knowing how much you love it when he takes control. He tugs the fabric up and over your head, exposing your lacy bra. Dabi's gaze lingers on your body, and you feel a thrill run through you.

You rub your thighs together to ease the tension and wetness building within your pussy. "I-I want you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing with desire as you ran the tip of your tongue over your upper lips to moisture it.

He palms your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lace. "Oh, I know you do," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

You gasp again, arching into his touch. "Touya…"

Dabi's mouth finds your neck once more, leaving a trail of hot kisses that make you tremble. He continues his exploration, slowly unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Touya's fingers pinch and roll your nipples, eliciting a moan from your lips. His other hand travels down your body, reaching the waistband of your pants. He deftly unbuttons them and pulls them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties. Dabi's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He hooks his fingers into your panties, leans forward and kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue in your mouth as he tugs the panties down, letting them pool at your feet.

You step out of them, feeling vulnerable.

Dabi's hands explore your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. One of them slips between your thighs and he growls lowly. "Fuck, doll, you're dripping," he claims, bringing his hand up to his lips, licking his index and middle fingers off your juices. He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He removes his own clothes, revealing his muscular form.

Touya positions himself between your legs, his fingers tracing the wetness between your thighs. He teases your entrance, making you squirm with anticipation. He takes his time, enjoying the power he holds over you in this moment, kissing all over your tummy and gradually coming down. Finally, Touya's mouth descends upon your aching core. His tongue flicks and teases your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. He doesn't shy away from sucking your lips into his mouth.

You cry out, gripping his snow-white, spiky hair as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "O-Oh! Touya!"

Just as you're about to reach your peak, Dabi pulls away, leaving you gasping for more. He smirks, knowing the torture is part of the fun. He slowly pushes one finger inside, then another, stretching you in preparation for what's to come while his tongue flicks your clitoris.

You moan and arch your back, the sensation of his fingers combined with the anticipation driving you wild. "Oh, God!" You whine, rolling your head back to the pillow. "Fuck me already, tiger, I can't wait any longer," you beg, your eyes glistening with tears. "I don't want to come yet, please!"

He likes to take his time to play with you. He loves seeing you whining so pathetically, practically begging for his cock to be stuffed in your little cunt. When Dabi deems you ready, he positions himself above you, his turquoise eyes locked on yours. He smirks, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He guides it to your entrance, rubbing it against your wet pussy. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, his hips thrusting forward. With one powerful thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

You cry out, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming.

Dabi begins to move, his strokes deep and steady. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you cling to him, desperate for more.

"More, more more…" you plead desperately.

Dabi's hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues to pound into you. "You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips thrusting harder.

The combination of sensations is too much, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your body moving in sync with his.

"Come for me then," Dabi growls, his voice low and commanding. A frown crosses his forhead as his cock throbs painfully, so ready to spill his seed deep within you. Soon, his own release is triggered by the feel of you tightening around him rhythmically.

With a final thrust of his, you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you; your pussy clenches around his cock making it impossible for him to pull out.

Finally, Touya collapses onto the bed, his body spent.

You curl up against him, your body still trembling. "Welcome back home, handsome," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed.

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you, slowly rubbing the curve of your waist. "Thanks for such a warm welcome."

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chocochipsushi · 7 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠

SFW

🌸Word count: 6.4k words

🌸AU: your soulmate is a huge, grumpy fart who shows you and only you affection, and though he hates his best friends, you think you've found soulmates in them too

🌸Pairing: Toji x reader, SatoSugu

<< Prequel | Part 2 >>

You always catch guys staring until Toji walks up to you with a hand on the small of your back. Then, the guys start to panic internally, looking away to avoid trouble with such a huge man. But their gazes will always return to watch the both of you. Everyone is always intrigued by your relationship.

You’re the tiniest little thing next to Toji, just standing nestled at his side, your hand resting on his beefy arm, his rugged body pressed up against yours. You’re not even that small to begin with. But his body is so big, chiseled and intimidating, that you‘re like a doll next to him. He looks so much like a guard dog whenever you’re together, because of how he towers and hovers over you.

��Can you help me get that, Toji?”

He looks up to what you’re pointing at and immediately lets go of you to step closer to the shelf. “This one?”

He easily reaches for the pair of scissors that is barely even touchable for you. He turns his head to see you grinning up at him as you bob your head. Toji grasps the package and brings it down to pass it to you.

“Gojo needs a new one because he misplaced his,” you explain, taking it from him before wrapping your arm around his.

“Shitty bar owner,” Toji mutters under his breath.

You laugh as you go up to the counter to have it paid for. As you pass the scissors to the cashier, you look up at Toji and scold, “He is your best friend, Toji!”

Immediately your boyfriend pulls out his card from his back pocket to pay for the item. The cashier is watching the both of you quietly. Toji shrugs at your reminder. “So? What kind of bar owner can’t even keep a pair of fucking scissors?”

Once the payment goes through, he snatches the new pair of scissors out of the cashier’s hand. The poor boy is so terrified and surprised by Toji’s roughness that he is surprised when you thank him with a sweet smile, and start walking out of the line. The amazed cashier is watching you lead the way, and he cannot help making parallels to you walking your scary guard dog that only listens to you and no one else.

The power you hold over such a huge and fearsome man could possibly make you easily twice as scary as Toji is. Because even the blind could tell that this crude and stoic man would do anything just to see you happy and safe. There is no other reason for the soft spark that ignites in his eyes every time your name is mentioned.

“Where’s The Grump?”

You hop up the bar stool and place the new pair of scissors on the counter. Grinning at Gojo, you answer, “Parking his bike. He’ll come.”

“Oh, damn, thought it was just you.” Gojo blows a raspberry as he snatches up the stationery. “I could really do without his stale attitude today.”

“Or ever,” his partner next to him chimes in.

Gojo points at Geto with a nod and an eyebrow raise in your direction. “I feel so bad you got him as your soulmate.”

Geto stops mixing whatever drink he is making to give you a look. “How do you even live with such a cranky old fart like that? Seriously.”

You laugh. “He's not that bad.” When you see the both of them giving you the same exact look, you laugh even harder. “Really! He’s actually very nice.”

“Yeah, maybe to pretty girls,” Gojo scoffs.

Geto makes a face and disagrees with his partner, “Actually… no. Have you seen the way he looks at girls that try to hit on him?”

Gojo thinks about it for a moment before he nods. “You got a point.” He looks at you. “So it’s just you that he's nice to. How does it feel to be God’s favourite?”

You giggle. “Toji is not a god!”

Gojo stares at you for a moment, then turns to his soulmate. He wonders, “Oh, is he nice to her because she’s an airhead?”

“Hey!” You stand on the leg rest on your stool to reach over and snatch the new pair of scissors off his hand. You frown at him. “That’s mean! I’m not dumb!”

Geto leaves from behind the bar counter with the freshly made order and before he makes his way to the customer’s table, he pats your head and bumps your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Yes, you are, but in a cute way.”

“Yes, so cute,” Gojo coos, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Can I have my scissors back, my pretty baby?”

“I’m not a baby,” you huff, though you thrust the stationery in his direction anyway.

He grins as he takes it from you, using the back of the scissors to tap the top of your head lightly before he retracts his hand. You’re huffing and complaining about the two bar owners bullying you while Satoru simply laughs endearingly at your grumbles. You are still frowning at him when you suddenly hear a commotion behind you, so you turn around, only to see your boyfriend standing next to Geto with their broad backs to you, looking at a spot in the corner, perplexed and frustrated.

As if sensing your gaze, your soulmate turns around and spots you at the bar counter. Even from afar, you can see the way his eyes light up. He holds his arm out in your direction and makes a come-hither motion. So you jump off the stool and walk over to the two men. Suguru has now turned to watch you make your way over.

“Geto slapped me on the back with the stupid tray and my keys flew in there. Pick it up for me, will you, baby?”

You immediately nod your head. Suguru and Toji are too broad and muscular to fit into a small space like this, and it is always your job whether at home or at the bar to squeeze into nooks and crannies to retrieve a lost item, just like how it is Toji’s responsibility to reach for anything that is out of your reach (which is usually things in the overhead cupboard). You’d once been so afraid of his size but now you’re comforted by it, and your dynamic that used to be a mystery and a worry to you now works so well that either of you wouldn’t know what to do without the other.

Without another word, you get down on your knees and hands. You hear some rustling behind you and when you check, you see Geto pulling the apron from around his waist and Toji doffing his black leather jacket, the both of them holding their respective materials to conceal your behind since you are in a skirt. You look away and return to crawling closer to the tight space. You go lower and stretch your hand out into the darkness, at the same time sliding almost half your body into the cranny.

You reach around for the bunch of keys and easily find it. You fish it out and sit on your heels, grinning up at Toji as you hold his keys out to him. He is only looking at you as he takes them from your hand, his free hand already reaching down to yank you up. Once you’re standing in front of him, Toji reaches behind you to pull down on your skirt and brush it down.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmurs before bending to brush the dirt off your knees, the side of his neck bared and close to your face.

“Okay, move outta the way, I have more customers coming in,” Geto grumbles, staring up the stairs where some people are walking down to the underground bar.

You grab Toji’s arm and pull him to the bar counter where you had been sitting. He helps you up on the stool and goes around the counter where Gojo is making some cocktails, to wet a piece of tissue. He returns and stands in front of you, wiping your hands and knees with the wet tissue.

“Thank you, Toji,” you mumble, watching him take care of you.

He simply shakes his head. He goes behind the bar counter again to bin the tissue and wash his hands. At that time, a couple of guys come over to stand next to you at the bar counter. Gojo has gone to the kitchen, so Toji decides to help out for a bit. He dries his hand and stands before them, placing his hands on the counter, his broad shoulders looking more intimidating than ever.

“Yes?” he gruffs out.

“Two whiskey sours,” one of the men orders. He turns to you and gives you a flirty smile. He orders again, “And a mojito for this beautiful lady, please.”

You are surprised. You take a quick glance at Toji, only to be even more surprised that he is already making the order. He is always so protective over you and hates when guys so much as turn their heads in your direction.

Quickly, you turn back to the guys and decline the drink, “Oh, no, thank you but that’s okay!”

“No, please. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting here alone with no man and no drink,” the other one of them chuckles.

You look at Toji again, and though he is concentrating on mixing the drinks, you can clearly see the tick in his jaw. You swallow and shake your head. Smiling politely at the two men, you say, “Oh, no, I came with my boyfriend.”

“Well, he's gone, isn’t he? We can still be friends.”

Just then, Geto returns to man the counter and you see him glancing between you and the two men, then you hear him asking Toji to stop what he's doing. But Toji is quiet and somber as he simply shakes his head. Suguru looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, looking quite perplexed. He knows just how protective Toji can get when it comes to you. This reaction of his is totally new.

“So what's your name?” the guys prod.

You give an awkward chuckle. “I have a boyfriend,” you reiterate, hoping they get the hint.

“We’ll leave when he gets here.”

“Yeah, and you can tell him that you got yourself the drink.”

You’re simply staring at the two men, speechless at how disrespectful and pushy they are, when two glasses are slammed on the counter in front of them. They jump a little and turn back to the bartender in annoyance, only to drop the arrogance when they see that it is Toji.

“Two whiskey sours,” he grunts. He then gently places a cocktail, that is definitely not mojito, in front of you.

“Hey, we asked for a mojito for her.”

Toji looks them dead in the eyes and spits out, “I know my girl more than you do, and she doesn’t drink mojitos. That’s $50 for the three drinks, card or cash?”

The two men’s eyes widen into the sizes of saucer plates. Their eyes flicker between Toji and you, and when Toji quirks his eyebrows at them, they pull out their card in a nanosecond and scurry off the moment the drinks are paid for.

When they’re gone, Geto turns to Toji with his hip leaning against the counter and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks amused. “Wow. Toji Fushiguro is a changed man. No more punching men in the face whenever they speak to your little girlfriend?”

Toji washes his hands and dries them as he mutters, “I would have. Just figured since they wanted to pay for her drink, I’d just hold back.”

You giggle while Geto makes a face jokingly. “Stingy ass.”

Toji comes round to the front again where he sits next to you, bringing his chair close to you. He spreads his legs so that you’re between them, and rests his foot on the footrest of your stool, almost like he is protecting you.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he tells Geto, who is already pulling out the bottle of his favourite whiskey. Toji always gets the same thing.

You take a sip of the cocktail in front of you and turn to your soulmate, who is already watching you. “Mm. Apple pie!” He nods his head, quiet with his eyes still on you. You beam at him. “Yummy!”

He still doesn’t say anything. He simply watches you for a few seconds before reaching a beefy hand out to cup your face. Before he even gets to stroke his thumb on your cheek, Geto slaps a coaster down on the counter in front of his best friend and places a full cup of whiskey on it.

“Stop being gross,” is all he says.

Gojo pushes through the door of the kitchen with two plates balanced on his palms. “Suguru, table 17 and 4, please.”

Geto is already taking the plates off him as he mumbles, “Got it.”

He goes off to bring the food to the tables so that it is just Gojo in front of you and Toji. He grins at you. “Wanna go to a party when we close tonight?”

You glance at Toji, who has dropped his hand from your face to pick up his drink. You turn back to his friend. “Sure. Whose place?”

“Shoko’s.”

Toji is out of his element. He hates socialising, especially at a party. People just drain his energy, even Satoru and Suguru are no exception. The only person he doesn't mind— or rather, wants to be together with all the time is you. But you are the opposite of him. Everything about the both of you are opposites.

You enjoy being with people. You’re loud all the time, and you attract people like moths to a flame. You could be standing there minding your own business and yet still have someone approaching you. You’re just a people person and Toji is not. Which is why, Toji grabs onto your wrist when you start to drift a little too far from him.

“Where are you going?” he questions quietly. Only you can sense the mild panic in his voice.

You smile. “I was gonna go get us a drink.” You pat his hand that is still holding onto you. “Wait here, okay?”

His eyes dart around the place and as if a saviour has appeared, he quickly lets go of you and stands up to grab a hold of Gojo who had been walking away. Satoru stumbles back, surprised and confused.

“Get us a drink on your way back, will ya,” Toji mutters.

Satoru frowns at him. “I’m going to the bathroom, dickhead.”

“Stop by the drinks station on your way back and get us something, then.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?”

Deciding to end this bickering, you place a hand on each of their chest. The two men huff at each other before turning to you. You tell Toji first, “Let’s go get the drinks together, okay?” Then you turn to Gojo. “And you can come find us when you’re done.”

“What for—”

“She said come find us when you’re done,” Toji repeats in a grunt.

Gojo turns to you wide-eyed like he is saying, “Did you see what he just did to me?” But you simply grin up at him and pat his chest before turning around and flouncing off in the direction of the drinks station. Toji follows behind you, but not without a flick to his ear by Gojo.

“What do you want to drink?” you question when you’re standing in front of a whole bunch of different alcohol types.

You’re reaching out for a cup when Toji interjects and pushes you away gently as he takes over your spot. You look up at him and he says, “I’ll mix you something. Just go to the fridge and get me a beer, will you, sweetheart?”

You do as he asked you to and when you’re back, he is pouring cranberry juice into your cup. You exchange your drinks once he is done with the concoction and you mix the liquid in your cup with your finger. You’re about to put it in your mouth to lick your finger clean, but your wrist is caught in Toji’s grasp. You look up at him, surprised and confused. But he simply brings your finger up to his mouth, where he sucks on your soaked digit.

“Yep, you’re gonna like that,” he compliments his own drink mixing skill with a cocky eyebrow raise and a smirk.

You immediately erupt in flames but you take a sip of your drink quietly. He is right, of course. Toji knows just how you like your drinks. He knows you too well.

Toji takes a sip of his beer as he leans against the kitchen counter. Just then, Gojo and a bunch of his noisy friends come streaming through the kitchen door and head over to your group. The two bar owners have really good alcohol tolerance but you know that they’ve definitely drank a bit too much by how loud they’re being. You move closer to your boyfriend, somehow managing to stand between his legs and be engulfed in his body.

“We’re going to the club. Wanna join?”

You frown at Gojo as Toji takes a swig of his beer. “Now? We just got our drink,” you whine.

“Chug it, then.” Suguru raises his brows at the man behind you. “You have a bodyguard to take care of you.”

You turn and look up at Toji, who simply stares back at you. He is not the most sociable person but if you wanted to socialise, he’d step out of his comfort zone for you.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, turning back to your friends. “I’m not feeling it—”

“Oh, you’re a lightweight!” Satoru snarks. “Down that cup and you’ll be feeling it in a minute!”

“Drink, drink, drink!”

Your friends start chanting and suddenly you’re pressured by a group of four to skull an entire cup of alcohol. You feel Toji standing straighter behind you, probably ready to snap at them for being a bad influence. Quickly, you instinctively down the drink and all your friends start cheering you on.

“Baby!” Toji hisses. He snatches the cup out of your hand but you’ve already finished three-quarters of it. “We could have just gone home,” he groans. You simply stare up at him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “You’re so stupid.” Your lips fall into a pout and he immediately softens the frown on his face. “Baby,” he sighs, this time concerned.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you’re suddenly pulled away from Toji. “Oh, stop worrying, lover boy,” comes Satoru’s taunt. “We always take good care of our little baby, don’t we?” he coos as he leans down to press his cheek to yours, grinning annoyingly at your soulmate.

You are having so much fun and you’re so glad you came. The club is packed, the music is good, and the energy is electric. You’re dancing and singing along to all your favourite songs with all your friends, the whole bunch of you loud and having the best times of your lives.

Except for Toji.

He is standing by the bar, keeping his eagle eyes on you so he doesn't lose sight of you, as he sips on his fourth glass of whisky. If you’re a lightweight, you’d best bet that your soulmate is the opposite. Someone has to be sober enough to take care of you.

It isn’t about his sobriety either, actually. Being the soulmate to a young girl who is over 10 years younger than he is, Toji just finds it refreshing to see how much energy you have in your little body. He is way past the age to be drinking just to party but he doesn’t want to rob his soulmate of this time in your life where you can party all night long and still not suffer any consequences the next day.

It is your third time being approached by a boy, trying to dance with you. But like what you’ve done with the previous two, you point to Toji, who tips his glass in your direction with a quirk of his eyebrow. And just like the previous two times, this boy is frightened by how intimidating your boyfriend is and immediately takes his leave.

It’s been an hour and a half in the club, and you’re starting to feel partied out. Leaving your friend group, you squeeze your way out to find Toji, who meets you halfway, not wanting to have you alone in the club even for just a few seconds. You immediately hug his arm and lean against his warm body.

“Ready to go home?” Toji shouts.

You nod your head. So he downs his drink and leaves it at the bar counter before finding his way out of the club with you latched on him. When you’re out, Toji takes his arm away from you to doff his leather jacket and hold it open for you. You wear it and you’re suddenly drowning in the jacket. You go back to hugging Toji’s arm. He has just fished his phone out to book a ride home when someone ruffles your hair.

Toji’s body stiffens and he looks up to glare at his possible victim when he notices Satoru grinning at the both of you. You rest your temple against Toji’s bicep as you look up at Gojo.

“Where is Sugu?” you mumble.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder. “Drunk.”

You rest your hand on Toji’s chest so you can tiptoe and take a look behind Gojo. While you’re watching Geto sitting on the pavement curb, head hung and propped up on his hands, Toji slips his arm out between the both of you to wrap around your body, pressing you to him. You circle an arm around his waist and rest your head on his chest.

“Are you guys going home now?”

You bob your head. “Tired,” you murmur.

Gojo groans as he glares at Toji like your boyfriend has offended him. He complains, “You’re so lucky your soulmate is half your size and easy to carry.”

Being the people pleaser that you are, you look up at Toji. “Oh, Toji! Why don’t you help—”

“No.”

You frown at him. “But why? You’re so strong.”

“Yeah, Toji. You’re so strong,” Satoru joins in, grinning.

“Shut the fuck up,” your boyfriend grinds out as he sets a deadly glare on his good friend. “Stop acting like you’re so weak.”

Gojo, now dropping his mockery tone, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “You know Suguru is heavier than he looks. He's going to be hard to move around.”

“Baby,” you try again. You’re always so nice to your friends. “Help Toru get Suguru home. Or they could come over—”

“No,” Toji snaps.

You shut up, surprised at his tone. Hurt, you drop your hands away from Toji and take a step back, crossing your arms. But you know that you probably don't look intimidating at all, especially in your boyfriend’s huge jacket.

“Princess, you’re drunk and I’m tired—” he tries to say as he reaches out for you.

But you dodge his hand. “You’re so mean to your friends, Toji. I don't like it when you’re mean to them. And then you get mad at me.”

Toji’s gaze softens. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. You’re my priority. I want to take care of you.”

“But I’m fine!”

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine!” You stomp your foot.

Toji rubs his face tiredly. He locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket in defeat. He stares at you. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to help Satoru!” you huff.

Gojo, while you were squabbling before him, is just staring at you in admiration and awe. He has never seen Toji so docile and tame, and nice before. You have a chokehold on him and it is so apparent who holds the upper hand in the relationship.

But Satoru suddenly feels cold and he just knows that Toji is glaring at him even before he turns to look at his best friend. Gojo smiles nervously. “Yes, Fushiguro?”

“You’re paying for the ride back home.”

You hold the door open for Toji and Satoru to lug in an unconscious Suguru, where they dump him on your couch. Satoru groans and Toji immediately leaves to go into your shared bedroom. You take off Toji’s jacket and hang it up, just in time for Toji to come back out to hand Gojo some extra blankets you don't use. Finally, the two men turn to you.

“Are we good now?” Toji mutters.

You bob your head meekly and he immediately goes into the bedroom. You look at Satoru, who gives you an encouraging look.

“Thanks, doll. Think you should call it a night.”

You nod your head and rush into the room where you hear the water already running in the bathroom. You quickly undress and join Toji in the shower. You watch him clean himself up silently, entirely ignoring you when he would normally be all over you.

“Toji?” you call weakly. He doesn’t answer you. You move forward to touch his torso as he rinses his hair. “Toji, can you wash my hair for me too?” you try.

He opens his eyes and lands his steely gaze on you. The moment he sees the kicked puppy look on your face, he feels his heart softening. “C’mere,” he mutters.

You’re excited at his invite, and you move to stand in front of him and turn your back to him. He takes the shower head and you tilt your head back so he can rinse your hair. Turning the water off, he starts lathering your hair with shampoo. In the silence, you feel even more nervous with this Toji. So you speak up.

“Are you mad at me, Toji?”

The question hangs in the air for a long while. Unable to take his silence anymore, you turn around so that you are facing him and his arms are stretched out to massage shampoo into your hair. Toji sees the small pout on your lips. He sighs.

“I just don’t understand why you have to be so nice. You were drunk and tired, too. It just pisses me off that you don’t ever think for yourself first.”

“But Satoru needed help…”

“What do you think he did before he even knew you? He’s just fucking with us.”

“What do you mean?” You frown at him. He's just so mean sometimes.

Toji stops massaging your scalp now and uses the remaining shampoo on his hands to wash his own hair. “I mean, he carried his fucking boyfriend home drunk plenty of times before. Might have taken him a while but he did it fine. He just makes use of you to get me to help him because he knows I would do anything you asked me to.”

You hear nothing but the last bit. You completely forget that you had thought he was mean. “Would you actually do anything I ask you to?” you murmur.

Toji narrows suspicious eyes on you. “Within means.”

You throw your arms around him at once, smushing your cheek to his firm chest. He grunts in surprise, quickly resting his hand on your shoulder blade. “I’m sorry I got mad at you for being mean to Toru,” you mumble.

Toji takes in a deep breath. “Yes, you should be.” You gasp and tilt your head up to pout at him. He has a cheeky glint in his eyes when he says, “You were going to get lucky in the morning but now you have two dumbasses in the living room.”

“What do you—” The innuendo behind his words finally hits you and your face glows red. “Princess fucked up?” you try to give him a cute pout.

Toji only laughs, his scarred lips stretching wide. He cups your chin and leans in to peck you on your lips. “Princess fucked up,” he agrees.

Despite Toji’s declaration last night, you still woke up lucky this morning. Not only because of Toji’s “Princess Treatment”, but also because Suguru and Satoru wanted to thank the both of you for letting them crash your place by cooking breakfast. Using the ingredients in your kitchen.

“Steak? For breakfast?!” Toji shouts.

Your soulmate buys at least 5kg worth of beef every week for his protein intake. It is expensive and he definitely would not be eating it as hangover food.

You giggle as you go over to Suguru’s side, hugging him as he cooks up a ton of sunny side up eggs. Satoru and Toji are bickering in the background. Suguru places a hand on the top of your head and leans down to kiss your hair.

“Thanks for getting Toji to help Satoru last night,” he murmurs.

You look up at him with a beaming smile. “Thank you for staying friends with Toji.”

He laughs and pats your head. “We stay only ‘cause of you, sweetheart. Now go prep the table. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

You do as he says, bringing out plates and cutlery for everyone. Before you even struggle with the weight of the ceramics, your boyfriend floats past you and picks them up instead. You follow after him like a duckling, standing there uselessly while he goes around the table to set up. When he’s done, Toji stands next to you as the both of you watch Gojo set glasses of water at the table. You stare up at Toji, who immediately looks down at you.

“I’ve never had steak for breakfast before,” you admit innocently.

Toji lets out a strangled groan and slumps over your body as he wraps his arms around you like you are his pillar of strength. “I fucking hate them, baby,” he confesses in a fake cry.

It makes you laugh because if anyone could ever get Toji to be so dramatic, it would definitely be his best friends. It is a side of his you never get to see when it is just the two of you.

You reach behind him and pat his back. “There, there, baby. We’ll buy more today.”

“No,” he says seriously now as he stands upright. You look up at him in surprise. “Satoru and Suguru are buying more today.”

Just then, the man with long, black hair walks towards the dining table with a plate piled with all the eggs you had in your fridge, all cooked perfectly. “We need to get groceries for our place anyway,” Suguru says. “We’ll buy yours too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru sings as he skips over and drags his chair out to plop down on it. “Double date!”

You move to sit next to him as you laugh, amused. “At the supermarket?”

“Double date at the supermarket!” Satoru announces as he throws his arm around you the moment you get to the doors of the huge establishment.

Toji rolls his eyes next to you. Suguru comes over now and holds a basket out to your boyfriend. But he rejects it and insists, “I’m going to need a cart.”

So you’re walking down the condiments aisle next to Toji while Suguru and Satoru are discussing about sauces they need for a recipe they are planning to try out for the bar. You slip your arms around one of Toji’s and walk close to him. He moves to rest his elbows on the cart handle so that he is almost at your same height even though he has to basically walk with a hunched back.

As the both of you watch the two males in front of you squabbling about the qualities of brands, you briefly wonder, “Do you think we have soulmates for friends too?”

Toji hums and shrugs a shoulder. “Why’d you ask that?”

You guys halt when Gojo and Geto stop for a condiment. You let go of Toji and turn to him. Returning to his full height, he gazes down at you. “If we do, I really hope Satoru and Suguru are our soulmates,” you sincerely say.

Toji makes a face. “Those clowns?” You bob your head innocently. He turns to watch his two best friends throwing a sauce bottle back and forth as if it is a dynamite that might go off in the next minute. Toji finally turns back to you with an incredulously confused look. “Seriously? Those clowns?”

You reach out to thump his chest as you laugh. “I know you love them, Toji. You know, if we ever have kids, I want Toru and Suguru to be their godfathers.”

“Hell no, I’m not letting those idiots near my babies,” your soulmate immediately declares, shutting down all possible arguments as he turns to push the cart again.

You follow after him and grab hold of his shirt. “You’re so mean to our childrens’ godfathers, Toji.”

He glares at you, which only makes you giggle. He pushes your hand away from clutching onto his shirt and you are offended for a second before he slips his palm against yours, his fingers sliding between yours. He pulls you closer until you are bumping against him. You stare up at him, wondering why he did that.

“Should we ditch them?” he whispers as he eyes the two grumbling men.

You giggle. “Who’s gonna pay for our groceries then?”

He groans and sets his eyes on you. “Ugh. You’re right. They’re—”

“Hey! Who wants some cake and ice cream?” Satoru shouts in your direction. Immediately, you grin and raise your hand eagerly. He smiles back happily. “Let’s buy ingredients and make a strawberry shortcake at the bar!”

“We’re making them?” you groan at the same time Toji almost yells, “We’re spending more time together?!”

You’re watching the three men across the kitchen island. You’re given the easiest job, which is to cut up the strawberries, so you have plenty of time to watch Toji whip a bowl of cream while Suguru helps to pour in sugar at intervals, as Satoru mixes the cake mixture. You think it’s so cute how they’re gossiping about a mutual friend one moment and then bickering the next because flour has flown everywhere.

“Gojo!” Toji snaps as he stops mixing and looks down at his black shirt now dusted with flour.

Satoru goes over to him and fakes gasp, “Oh my God, I’m sorry!” He then dips his finger into Toji’s bowl and scoops up a dollop of whipping cream. He puts it into his mouth and moans. “Mmm. Yummy!”

“Satoru!” Geto scolds with a disapproving look on his face.

The white-haired man is making eye contact with an annoyed Toji who is glaring at him. He grins obnoxiously and lets his finger go for another dip. He then holds his finger out to his boyfriend. “It really is yummy.”

Despite the side glare that Suguru gives him, he still takes Satoru’s finger into his mouth and sucks on it. He flickers his eyes over to Toji, looking just a bit surprised. “Oh, it’s actually good.”

Your soulmate is just glaring at them and you just know that he is so close to blowing up. So you go over with a strawberry and dip it into the cream. You look up at Toji, who is squinting at you. You take a small bite from the side of the strawberry and let out a happy squeal.

“Mm!” You hold out the rest of the strawberry to your boyfriend. “Try it, Toji.”

He keeps glaring at you. So you bring the strawberry closer and bump his lip with the cream. He finally parts his lips and allows you to feed him.

You, Gojo, and Geto are standing there, staring up at the green-eyed man expectantly as he chews slowly, savouring the flavour. There is not a single hint from Toji if he enjoyed the whipped cream as much as we do. That is until he swallows and Satoru breaks the silence with a whisper, as if afraid to enrage a beast.

“So…? How is it?”

Toji is silent for a moment. Then he mutters, “It’s not bad.”

Satoru and Suguru let out relieved breaths. Gojo rounds the island to bring over the remaining uncut strawberries. He dips a strawberry into the cream as he says, “I dunno why you’re always so grumpy. Fushiguro.”

Suguru follows suit in eating strawberries covered in whipped cream. He adds, “Yeah. Can’t you just let loose a little?”

Satoru is now eating his third strawberry. His mouth is still full when he mumbles, “You’re like an old man in a young man’s body.”

Suguru is on his second strawberry now, making sure the berry is completely covered in cream as he comments, “Though he’s not that young.”

You watch Toji’s face turning darker by the second. Especially when Satoru agrees, “True. The only thing young about him is his cute little girlfriend.” You blush when he winks at you.

Toji decides that this is his final straw as he slams the mixing bowl down on the island and snaps, “I’m only four years older than the two of you, fuckwits!” As his two best friends gape at him in surprise at his outburst, he snatches Satoru’s fourth strawberry out of his hand and grunts, “And stop eating all the fucking cream if you’re gonna make a fucking cake. Dumbass.”

Then, he holds the berry out to you. Shyly, you take it and thank him. He steps out from between Geto and Gojo to go over to stand by your side, brushing your hair back so it doesn't get in the way as you munch on the strawberry. Satoru and Suguru are observing the both of you, and you can see Satoru glaring at you.

“You’re a bitch for stealing my best friend and pitting him against me,” he spits. But he is only eyeing at the strawberry in your hand.

You laugh. “Toru, just give up on the cake and eat the strawberries with the cream. We can make the cake another time.”

The suggestion sparks a glint of hope in his bright blue eyes and he immediately grins at you. “You’re the smartest bimbo ever. I love you as much as Toji loves you.”

Toji blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes. But you smile back at him. “I love you as much as Toji loves you too, Toru!”

Your soulmate immediately mumbles, almost concerned because he knows how much you love his best friends, "That's not a lot, babe."

At the same, Suguru also dramatically laments, “Oh, if only hate was love and bimbos were smart.”

<< Prequel | Part 2 >>

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

It was meant to be just a movie night, a chance to catch up with your best friend after a long week, but Bucky had other ideas. The two of you had danced around the obvious for far too long, and he was going to take matters into his own hands.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♆ Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♆ 3.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♆ Fluff, angst / insecurity ჻჻჻ TROPES: Best friends to lovers ჻჻჻ SMUT: Fingering (F receiving) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, virginity

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ♆ Please, someone take away my keyboards. I barely survived this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ♆ I Want It by Two Feet ♆ Like U by Rosenfeld

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ♆ @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ♆ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟮 — Pornstar AU — Masterlist

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Movie night with Bucky was a routine that the both of you had maintained for god knows how long. Every Friday night, you would travel to Bucky’s home, or he would come to your apartment, and you would binge either a season or two of your shared favourite shows or a movie trilogy.

Only, it had become hard the past few months.

Bucky was your best friend, and you knew of his occupation. And, sure, you were curious as all hell to learn more – but it didn’t help the fact you had a raging crush on the ridiculously beautiful six foot plus pornstar.

It was an effort to keep the curiosity and feelings under lock and key – having been very successful at it, if you said so yourself. Tonight would be no different. Bucky would arrive at your door at any moment, take out in hand, and his handsome smile and irresistible charm-

No, stop it, you scolded yourself, taking a deep breath. “Chill, girl,” you muttered, gathering the final blanket from your closet for the blanket den in the living room. The butterflies in your stomach slowed a notch, and your muscles relaxed.

As if you had summoned the devil himself, three solid knocks on your front door announced Bucky’s arrival. “Come in!” you called, walking quickly into the living room to deposit the blanket. “I’m in the living room, Buck.”

The door swung open, and footfalls sounded in the entryway. “Hey, doll,” Bucky greeted loudly, the rustling of plastic bags and fabric as he took off his shoes followed his call. “Sorry I’m late; the shoot ran later than I had hoped.”

“You’re good,” you soothed, that same fire sparking at the mention of his work. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” Bucky said, right behind you. You jumped and spun round to find him grinning happily. “How ‘bout you? Ready for tonight?”

The sight of him rendered you speechless for a second – his broad shoulders and chest were covered in a black Henley and leather jacket, and his thighs were clothed in tight black jeans that were stylistically faded. Normally, Bucky wore his hair up in a low ponytail, only keeping it loose for shoots (not that you knew, of course not), but something was different about it right now… Tonight he had it down, fanning to rest at the base of his neck and spreading over his shoulders.

Shit.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You startled and blinked – staring, you had been staring at him. Fuck, you cursed silently. “Sorry, Buck–long day,” you lied, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the thought that Bucky left his hair down- Oh, god, no- “But it’s been good. And you don’t think I can’t take a marathon, huh?”

Bucky smirked. “I know you can’t handle a marathon, cutie.”

“Bucky!” you sputtered, and he just laughed, shaking his head.

“Sorry, sorry–you walked into that one. Anyway,” he said, looking at the blankets laid on the couch. “You get the plates and shit, then we can start.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” you retorted, making him snort. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw Bucky taking off his jacket out of the corner of your eye, and he placed it on the back of the recliner. His back and arm muscles rippled with the movement, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth watered, the fire roaring at the sight. Get it fucking together, you chided yourself, hastily reaching for the plates you needed.

Bucky groaned loudly as he flopped down onto the couch and into his spot, his head thrown back. “Fucking work, I tell you. They’re making me fit more in each damn day,” he complained, running a hand over his face.

You frowned – it wasn’t like him to complain about his job. He loved it, truly loved it. “Are you alright, Buck?” you asked from the doorway.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Just… I just wish they’d take in and listen to what I want to do, y’know, into account. Like,” he gestured mindlessly. “I love what I do, but I just want something else. Fucking twinks and blondes all day is great. Don’t get me wrong–I just want something else, just once. Variety is the spice of life or some shit.”

Unable to think of anything in reply – more so the candid comment about just who he fucks, you walked into the living room and sat down on the couch next to him, grabbing his hand. “I know, bubs, you need a change.” Bucky smiled softly and squeezed your hand. Curious, you looked into his eyes and asked, “What is it that you want to do? I’m sure it’s something hella interesting.”

The look Bucky flashed at you was unreadable, almost considering; calculating in nature. “Just something, doll,” he said evasively. “Now, let’s dig in. I’m starving.”

You smiled and reached for the remote, handing it to Bucky. “You chose, you deserve it.”

The TV played quietly in the background as you two ate, catching one another up on the few day’s ventures from when you had last seen one another. Bucky had many, many shoots – his popularity skyrocketing, going by the analytics of his latest uploads of which he bragged heartily about. You congratulated him, despite the pride and jealousy swirling in your chest at the words. Sincerity wasn’t an issue. You were, in fact, very proud of him, but you wanted it – wanted him.

Inwardly sighing, you began to regale your couple of days. Work had been busy, and the annoying co-worker was being useless, as usual. The small frown on Bucky’s lips at the news made your heart flutter. “Y’know, doll, you could always-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t think it’s for me.” Never mind that you’d never experienced anything within the spectrum of his career – too busy with your own job and life, and no one gave you a second glance. “Anyway, I wouldn’t wanna steal your fanbase,” you teased while winking, which pulled a laugh from the brunette.

Dinner passed quickly after that, and you were curled up on the couch, blanket on your lap as you focused on the TV, the scene tense when Bucky shifted. You looked over, but he was still staring at the TV, though he was closer to you – his thigh almost touching yours.

You raised a brow, staring at his profile until he glanced over at you. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes narrowed. “Don't try to deny it, I see it. You're planning something.”

“I am not,” Bucky said innocently, smirking.

You continued to stare at him, brows furrowing. “You know, smirking while saying you’re innocent negates the fact that you are, y’know, innocent.”

Bucky snorted with laughter and shifted even closer. “I just wanna be next to you. That alright?”

“Okay…” The warmth from his bulk made you tense – unsure how to cope with the fact that the man you wanted much more with had moved to sit right next to you, his intentions unclear and unknown.

Half an hour later, the TV rolled the credits, and you sighed happily, stretching to the ceiling. “Another?” you asked before turning to look at Bucky.

The expression on his face made you freeze in place – warmth enveloped your entire being, and your mouth fell open slightly. It was a devastating stare, hungry and predatory all in one, and he looked famished.

“Bubs? What–?”

“I have danced around this for so fucking long, and I can’t do it anymore.” Bucky shifted, his body now fully facing yours, and you gulped. “I have seen the way you’ve been looking at me for months now, doll-”

“But-”

Bucky held his hand up, and you fell silent. “Let me finish, sweetheart.” The use of a pet name caused butterflies to come to life in your stomach, and you gave in. You leaned back against the couch cushions to better see him. “I know you know about my lifestyle, and yet, you’re not afraid to get close–you’re my best friend, and I know it’s greedy and downright selfish, but I want more.”

Silence. You couldn’t breathe – couldn’t think… “What?”

“I want you, doll.”

“Oh,” you managed, voice high pitched. “Uh–”

“Take it easy, I don’t mind waiting for you,” Bucky soothed, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“But–but I haven’t–” You swallowed, hesitating and feeling the dreaded panic start to flood your nerves.

“Haven’t what?” Bucky asked gently, his eyes searching yours.

“Had a… a boyfriend,” you mumbled, grimacing. “I-I, um- I haven’t had one before.”

Bucky stared, eyes slightly widened. "You haven't- Wait, are you telling me you've never had a partner romantically or sexually?”

Shame curled in your stomach, and you shied away, looking down into your lap and doing all you could to avoid his gaze.

“No, no–don’t hide from me, sweetheart. Look at me,” Bucky pleaded, “please, please look at me.”

You looked up slowly, meeting his gaze. Tears lined your eyes, and you felt embarrassed – the heat that had consumed you a second before twisted into shameful nausea. Of course Bucky would be ashamed, he had sex for a living, and yet, here you were, a virgin at your age with no experience-

“Stop. I mean it, stop it, doll,” Bucky cut in firmly, his hands squeezing yours tightly. “I can see those ugly thoughts in your eyes.”

“But, me?” you whispered, sniffling quietly. “Me? When you could have literally anyone you wanted?”

“It’s always been you, sweetheart,” Bucky replied, expression pained. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

“Oh, wow,” you breathed, your bottom lip trembling. “But, Bucky, I’ve never-”

“If you’re telling me you’ve never had sex, that ain’t what bugs me.” The words made your brows furrow, and Bucky sighed. “What bugs me is that you’re so upset that you’ve not got experience–baby, if I am your first for anything, I would be fucking honoured. If you would have me.”

You stared at Bucky for a moment, considering. He was your best friend, the one you’d fallen head over heels for – trust had long been established, and you felt safe with him. This is what you had wanted for so fucking long.

Fuck it, you thought.

“Please,” you whispered, looking at Bucky. “Please.”

Bucky smiled and leaned in close. “Can I kiss you, baby?” His breath fanned over your lips, and you nodded, moving into the feel of his hand cupping your cheek. “Fuck.”

Your lips met softly in a chaste kiss that shocked you with the feeling of utter passion and devotion poured into it. A small noise escaped your throat without your consent. Bucky's reaction of pulling you closer boosted your confidence, and you shuffled into his space, almost effectively sitting in his lap.

The sensation of his hand moving to cup the side of your neck made you shiver, and Bucky slowly pulled back from the kiss. "You're sensitive, aren't you, baby?" he remarked.

You bit your lip. “Never felt that before-”

“Oh, baby,” Bucky purred, grinning widely. “I am gonna blow your mind, but first, if you want to stop, you tell me, and I’ll stop. I will not hurt you.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s hands moved from your face and neck to your waist.

"Lie back for me, baby girl," he said, directing you to recline on the couch. "I want to show you something." Following his direction, you landed gently on your back. "Now, I want to double-check with you–do you want this? Want me to be your first?"

Without hesitation, you said, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted–I want you, Bucky, please-”

Bucky moaned quietly, and you found you wanted to hear that sound again. “You’re gonna be the fucking end of me, sweetheart.”

His hands moved to your hips again, and he grabbed the waistband of your pants, giving a small tug. You lifted your hips in permission, all while shivering in anticipation, and Bucky worked your leggings and panties off – your lower half was bare, and you had no idea what to expect next. Sure, you’d seen porn, and you knew what sex was, but experiencing it? It fucking terrified and exhilarated you.

“Have you got protection, baby?” Bucky asked suddenly, tossing your clothes onto the coffee table next to the abandoned food.

"Bathroom." Bucky raised an eyebrow, and you shrugged. You watched as he walked into your bathroom, and then a second later, he appeared with a box and a tube.

"Now, have you ever used any toys or had any kind of penetration before, doll?" Bucky asked, looking at you with a reassuring smile.

Embarrassment surged up your spine and curled your stomach again. Bucky sensed it, and he smiled softly. "I need you to be honest, sweetheart. If you haven't, it's alright–I told you, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I'm going to take care of you.”

“No…” you whispered.

Bucky swooped in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for being honest with me, baby. Good girl.”

A small squeak left your lips at the praise, and Bucky grinned. “Oh? You like being called a good girl, huh?” Unbidden, your thighs clamped together, and he saw. “You do… that’s a good thing, sweetheart. Because you are my good girl–daddy’s sweet little thing, huh?”

His voice was so deep and low that you swore you could feel it in your very bones, and the words shot straight to your cunt that had started to leak. “D-Daddy?”

“I know that you know about that, baby. You call me daddy, and I will give you anything you want.” Bucky shrugged, a coy smile on his lips. “Now, I’m gonna kneel right here,” he pointed at your thighs. “And you’re gonna lay there while I work. I can’t let that pussy be empty any longer–I know you must be aching.”

You whined – a sound you’d never made before, and Bucky moved in like a wolf to its prey. His hands rested on your knees as he settled, and before you knew it, he was resting his weight against your shins, staring at you with a softening expression. “You open these fucking gorgeous legs when you’re ready, sweetheart. We do this at your pace, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied quietly, and you bit your lip as his hands rubbed up and down the outsides of your thighs. “Okay–I’m ready.” Opening your thighs, Bucky exhaled heavily, his gaze immediately honing in on your pussy.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “already wet for me, huh? Bet you’re real fucking keen to know just how it feels to be pleasured.”

You nod, eyes widening as Bucky’s hand moved to cup your sex. The touch was gentle, and you huffed in surprise when his fingers danced over your folds. “Yeah, y’are. Good fucking girl, proud of you already.”

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, squirming slightly. “Bucky-”

“Never been praised, sweetheart? That’s a shame,” he hummed, leaning close until his body hovered over yours. “Get used to it, baby, because when I’m done with you, you won’t know which way is up.”

A moan fell from your lips, and Bucky grinned. “Now, I’m going to go real slow, I need to stretch you out first. I would fuck you with my tongue, but I’m a lil’ impatient–I can do that later.”

“T-Tongue?” you stuttered, eyes wide. “You–?”

“Oh, baby, you really are an innocent kitten,” Bucky purred, and you shivered violently. “That’s alright, you’ve got a whole new world to experience, and lucky for you, daddy knows all the tricks of the trade.”

You laughed nervously, and Bucky kissed your nose. “Now, sweet thing, I’m gonna play with your clit a bit–get you excited.”

“O-Okay–Ah!” Insistent pressure circled your clit, and you keened. Having masturbated before this, it wasn’t a new sensation, but having another person do it was intense, and it pulled a cry from your lungs. “Bucky, oh my god!”

“I know, I know,” Bucky soothed, his fingers moving a little faster. “Stay with me, baby. I know it feels good.”

The circles on your clit continued a moment longer, each pass making you pant from the new, overwhelming sensation. “Alright,” Bucky mused, looking down at where his hand met your cunt, and he pulled it away. “Look, baby, look how wet you are.”

You glanced down and gasped quietly at the sight, then you looked at Bucky, who was grinning like a madman. “I think you’re ready for a lil’ more.”

“More–? Oh, oh, fuck-” You gasped, jolting in place at the feel of Bucky’s fingers trailing to your opening and pushing with the slightest pressure.

“Relax, baby girl,” Bucky whispered, leaning forward to mouth at your throat. “You gotta relax for me, sweetheart. Breathe.” Taking a deep breath, you willed your body to unclench, limb by limb, until you were pliant under him again. “That’s it, good girl.”

Bucky’s finger pushed in, the intrusion burning a small amount, and you hissed. “You’re alright; I promise I won’t do anymore,” he reassured, placing a kiss on your forehead again. “You’re doing so, so good for me, baby–just stay relaxed. I can feel how tense you are.”

“Bucky, I-”

“I know, relax for me–relax for daddy, alright? Breathe,” Bucky soothed, smiling down at you. At his words, you tried again, and he smiled wider. “That’s it, now, I’m gonna insert another, stop, then add just one more. That’ll do for the moment.”

“Okay,” you sighed, moving your hands to grip his broad and still clothed shoulders. “Wait, please, I want-” You tugged at the Henley, pouting.

“You want me to take it off?” Bucky questioned as he watched you curiously, and you nodded. “Okay, hang on, baby.” His fingers pulled slowly out of your pussy, and he pulled his shirt off, exposing the muscle and expanse of tattooed skin of his chest. “That better, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, running your hands over his chest, and he shivered. “Daddy looks good.”

“Doll,” Bucky groaned, stilling his movements. “Don’t. Not yet.” You giggled, and he sighed, glancing down at your pussy once more. “Ready for more, baby?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling and wiggling your toes. “Please.”

“Good manners,” Bucky praised, kissing you on the lips. “Here we go.”

You moaned at the feel of a second finger, and Bucky paused, the small twitches of his hand ricocheting up your spine like an earthquake. “Why- Oh my god, you’re moving-”

“I’m not, I’m not, baby,” Bucky rushed, voice strained. “It’s just you- Fuck. You’re so tight, and your pussy is squeezing me–I’m trying to keep my cool; I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t say sorry,” you said quickly, shuddering through another twitch. “Just feels- It feels good, oh-”

Bucky grinned, the two fingers now purposefully moving along your walls.

“Bucky!” you squealed, your stomach tensing and pulling you up off the couch cushions. “Why-”

“Let it go, baby, let yourself feel,” Bucky whispered, doing it again. “I’m going to give you a third finger and then see how you do, alright?”

“Ye- Fuck!”

“Such a sensitive kitten, and fuck, does daddy love it,” Bucky rumbled, moving to loom over you again. “Taking my fingers so well, baby, squeezing them just like you will my cock.”

The words made a violent shiver grip your spine. “Oh, fuck, daddy,” you breathed.

Bucky shushed you, and his fingers twitched again. “You think you’re ready for me to move them, sweetheart?” The words were followed by a sweeping motion, and you keened. “Like that. You tell me when you’re ready.”

“Ye- Yeah,” you rushed, gripping his shoulders. “Please, daddy, I want it.”

“Okay, kitten,” Bucky said, shifting slightly. “Here we go.”

It started subtle – small movements that made your eyelids flutter, then the sweeping motions got bigger, bolder, and you let out a low moan, your chest heaving for breath.

“Stay with me, baby. I’m looking for something,” Bucky said, biting his lip. You watched through heavily lidded eyes as his brows furrowed in concentration, the sweeping motions getting harder. "Hang on, one second. Oh baby, that's it. Hang on, give it to me. Be a good girl. Come on.”

“What- What are you looking for?” You panted, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. It felt so fucking good, and you were growing needy – wanting more. “I don’t-”

“It will be new for you, baby girl,” Bucky breathed, his eyes widening slightly. “It’s going to be very intense, but it won’t hurt–do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you pleaded.

“Alright,” Bucky replied, nodding. “Just breathe for me, sweetheart–you’re gonna feel something-” Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and your eyes bulged. “Like that,” he continued, “but a lot more intense. I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the new feeling. It was like being struck by lightning, and your thighs quivered. “Please, I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

Bucky’s fingers moved again, this time with a mission, and you swore loudly. “Oh my- Fuck! Daddy! Oh my god! Please, what-”

“Easy,” Bucky breathed, smirking, his fingers keeping up a steady stream of sensation as they curled inwards – each brush making your head swim. “That’s it, just take it, baby. Take it for daddy, c’mon.”

“I don’t- Ah, fucking hell,” you babbled, grasping at Bucky’s shoulders, neck, hair – anywhere to ground yourself.

“That, baby girl, is your g-spot,” Bucky soothed, still moving his fingers. “And each time I hit it, it makes you wanna scream, doesn’t it? It makes you want more, huh?”

“Yes!” you cried, squirming. “Please! I-I, don’t-”

“Cum for me, baby, c’mon,” Bucky encouraged, voice raised above your moans. “I know you want to; give it to me.”

Pleasure blinded you, and your back bowed to the ceiling. “Bucky! Bucky–please, please! Oh my god, I think- Think-”

“Don’t think, kitten, just let go, I’ll catch you.”

A loud cry tore from your lips, and you shook under Bucky, your climax stealing your breath and ability to move or think. You could only hear the pounding of blood in your ears and the faraway sound of Bucky’s voice calling over the waves, “That’s it, good girl–good fucking girl, give it all to me. Daddy wants it all, c’mon.”

Slowly, your vision returned, and you glanced around, still panting for breath. “What the fuck,” you gasped, and Bucky laughed.

“Now that was a fucking sight that I will never forget, sweetheart,” Bucky said smugly. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and leaned forward to kiss you full on the mouth, his tongue parting your lips greedily. “My baby girl is a greedy one. Even when cumming, you begged for more.”

“Huh?” you asked, dazed and confused.

“You screamed for more when you were cumming–it was fucking beautiful,” Bucky praised. “And I will give you more, sweetheart, but I need you to catch your breath first. Are you alright?”

You blinked once, twice, and looked down at your body. A sheen of sweat had settled over your stomach and chest, your cunt quivered through aftershocks, pulsing every other second, and your thighs quivered. “I am great,” you said, grinning.

“Atta girl,” Bucky laughed. “Catch your breath, and then you can have more.”

“Okay, daddy.” Bucky winked and sat back on his haunches, running his hands over your calves this time. “Fuck, that was…”

“A lot?” Bucky finished. “Yeah, you won’t last long with my cock in you, either, but fuck, you’re gonna be like heaven, sweetheart. And I can’t fucking wait to bury myself in that sweet cunt a’yours.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mumbled, eyes wide.

“Just you wait, gonna see how filthy my mouth really gets when I fuck you, kitten,” Bucky teased.

And you couldn’t wait, not now that you knew just how good his fingers were.

And I–

⠈⠂⠄𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #alternate juneiverse 2023 #rookthorne's works #II1

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veritasangel · 23 days

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Duelling Charm

Ft. cowboy!sukuna & cowboy!gojo

sum: the two avoid each other as best as they can but the one thing they always have in common? they both have a soft spot for the pretty bartender at the local saloon.

contains: fempov, fluff, flirting, a suggestive comment, rivalry between the two cowboys

wc: 1.4k - masterlist

a/n: i always love a cowboy au for any of my faves, and yes, i'm still thinking about that gojo fanart

The plains were dusty, stretched out under a burning sun, the small town shimmering in its heat. It was a rough place, with law more of a suggestion than a rule, and men made their own way with grit and gunpowder. Even within this rugged town, though, there was one place of respite: the local saloon.

Satoru strode in, his towering height and white hair catching the eye of nearly everyone inside. He wore a duster coat that looked far too put together for a rugged man, and the silver spurs on his boots flashed in the light.

His usual cocky grin was plastered on his face as he looked around, though his beaming blue eyes remained covered under the shade from his hat.

He strode directly to the bar, to which you, a renowned bartender of that saloon-were cleaning glasses with a skilled hand.

"Evenin', Miss," Satoru said, the word drawn out as he relaxed into his usual lean against the bar. "Town's lookin' a whole lot prettier now I'm back here, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You never miss a beat, do you, Satoru?"

"Only when it comes to you," he said, tipping his hat with a wink at you.

Before you could respond, the door creaked loud and swung open once more. The saloon fell silent for just a moment as Sukuna entered, his presence commanding like always. Where Satoru was all charm and flash, Sukuna was raw and dangerous. He was broader, rougher, with a face as handsome as it was threatening, marred only by a single scar running down his left cheek, a souvenir from one of the many fights he'd managed to walk away from.

Sukuna's crimson coat billowed with his entrance, his twin revolvers sitting comfortably at his hips. His eyes, a piercing red, locked onto Satoru almost immediately. A slow, almost predatory grin spread over his face as he made his way to the bar, taking his place on the opposite side of him and right in front of you.

"Satoru," Sukuna greeted, his voice low and rough, like gravel under boots. "Surprised to see you here; thought you'd be off chasin’ some poor fool who doesn't know any better."

Satoru chuckled and didn't miss a beat. "Why chase fools when I can stay here and enjoy some good company?" He turned to you, his smile spreading wider. "Present company excluding him, of course."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning an elbow against the bar as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down the spine of the few patrons who were close enough to witness it. "You really gon' let this peacock flap his feathers around here, doll?"

You shook your head, your eyes dancing between the two men as you grabbed two glasses ready for their usual order. "You boys sure know how to make a girl feel special," you said, your tone light though there was an edge of exasperation running below. "But I ain't some prize for the taking, you know."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Satoru said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I come here for the sole purpose of adding some spark into your life. "

"That so?" Sukuna cut in, his grin growing wider and wider. "Last time I checked, your 'spark' was you complain’ about losin’ all your money on the poker table. In that case, I think she might be better off not having your spark around her."

Satoru's grin never wavered, though his eyes flashed with a challenge. "At least I can afford to lose. Heard you've been on the wrong end of more than a few deals lately, Sukuna. Maybe you're the one who should be watchin' his coin, huh?"

Sukuna chuckled, low and dark. "Money's easy to come by, if you know where to look. But some things," his gaze shifted to you, "are worth a whole lot more."

You heaved a sigh and slid their drinks over the bar, stepping back to cross your arms over your chest as you looked between the two of them. "You boys gonna keep this up all night, or do I need to get the sheriff?"

"Now, now, no need for that," Satoru said quickly, flashing him a disarming smile. "We're just havin' some fun, right, Sukuna?"

Sukuna smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He nodded. "Sure. A total blast."

You eyed them both a moment before shaking your head with a soft laugh. "You two are impossible," you said, though the warmth in your voice took the edge off your words.

Satoru leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eye. "Impossible? Or irresistible?

Sukuna snorted and took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never once leaving yours. "Irresistible? That’s stretching it, even for you, Gojo. Reckon the lady’s simply being polite."

You chuckled, giving them both a teasing smile as you leaned forward, your elbows resting on the bar. "Maybe I just like seeing both of you inflate your chests like two roosters in the pen."

"Careful," Satoru said, grinning, "Or you might just find yourself caught in the middle."

Sukuna's smile twisted into something wicked; his voice low, a full octave lower as he leaned in closer to him, his presence almost overwhelming. "And I don't think either of us would mind that one bit."

The tension between the two men was palpable, though below the surface, the interaction was playful, the silent understanding that this all was part of the dance. They were rivals, sure, but not enemies. Not yet, anyway.

As the night wore on, the saloon was filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but your attention stayed glued to the two men at your bar. Satoru kept the mood light, sprinkling his words with flirtatious comments and charming smiles, while Sukuna's replies were sharp, laced with a dangerous edge that made your pulse quicken.

"Tell you what, sweetheart," Satoru said, low and smooth, "Why don't we take you out for a ride tomorrow? You can see the town from a whole different angle."

Finally, Sukuna chuckled, his voice carrying with him a dark timbre. "A ride with him? You'd be bored outta' your mind. Stay with me, and I'll show you the kind of fun you won't forget anytime soon."

You raise an eyebrow, leaning on the bar ever so slightly. "And what makes you two think I'd want to spend my day off with either of you?"

Satoru faked a hurt look, laying a hand upon his chest. "Now that hurts. Here I was, thinking we were getting on so well."

Sukuna's smile grew, eyes slanting just a bit as he watched you. "Maybe she's just playin' hard to get, Gojo. Or maybe," he tacked on, dropping his voice down, "She's waiting for someone who can actually keep up with her."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing as you shook your head at their antics. "You boys sure know how to lay it on thick. But if you're really that keen, why don't you both come by tomorrow? I might just have something in mind that'll test whether either of you can live up to your talk."

That challenge in your voice did something to each of them, and their rivalry was put aside as their eyes met in an unspoken moment of respect-and firmer determination.

"Count me in," Satoru said with a grin, tipping his hat again.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sukuna replied, the smile spreading slow and dangerous as he downed the rest of his drink.

The two men left the saloon as the night was winding down, promising to meet again, and each one more determined to better the other than ever.

And there was just something thrilling about what tomorrow might bring, with two of the most notorious men in town vying for one's attention. You shook your head and softly chuckled to yourself as you began cleaning up for the night. You knew better than to get too caught up in their games, but there was no harm in letting them try.

After all, life in a town like this could get pretty dull, and a little excitement was always welcome.

༄ m.list

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ja3hwa · 1 year

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♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐 : 𝐕𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦/𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

Eyes On Me

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Biker Gang Leader, doesn't like sharing unless it's to do with his best friend.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 740

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive. Angst. Biker/Criminal Au.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Biker!Hongjoong x Aristocrat!Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Mention of criminal activity. Shitty family. Father issues. Possessive tendencies. Lots of teasing. Swearing. Pet names. Ass grabbing. Mention of sex. Mention of masturbation. Dry humping. Slight clit play. Biting. Marking.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

You were a sunshine. A light in most people's lives and an innocent little ball of happiness. No one could ever except you getting mixed up with the infamous biker gang, Ateez. Especially getting caught up with the ruthless leader. And yet, how come you are sitting sweetly on his couch in his office while he finishes off a phone call he had to answer just moments after your mouth was prettily wrapped around his cock. To say he was annoyed would be an understatement but alas he needed to answer the call or he knew Seonghwa would bark at him for missing yet another important call with a business client all because he was too busy with you...

His little plaything. His secret doll.

You both knew the match was unlikely and that most people, especially your family, would disapprove of the relationship. But neither of you cared. In fact, it thrilled you to know the idea of your father being broken over the fact that his useless waste of space of a daughter was sleeping with the enemy. Loud music suddenly pooled into the quiet office as one of Hongjoong’s men came raring in, wanting his boss's attention.

“Sir, I…” His words caught in his throat when he noticed was not only interrupted his boss on a phone call but there was a very pretty woman in nothing but one of Hongjoong’s shirts, sitting so patiently on the couch in the corner of the room. You gave the young boy a smirk, his face already turning a bright shade of pink.

“What?” Your lover's voice grew rougher, almost possessive as he disapproves of the way the younger male was eye fucking your form. You quickly caught Hongjoong’s eyes, and your mind sparked an idea. You were going to give this other man a show. So you stood up without a second thought, letting the shirt ride up slightly, so he could get a good view of your black lace panties. Your legs were on complete display for both men, hearing a low growl rumble from the big biker boss.

You sidestepped so you could move behind the office desk where your beefy lover boy was standing but instead of walking the short way, you purposely walked in front of the younger male, letting your hips brush passed him gently, almost enough to make him stiffen. “S-Seonghwa is…uh, h-here…” The young one stutters, feeling your body against his growing erection.

You finally make your way to the other side of the desk, bringing your hands to your lover's chest. Hongjoongs hands snaked against your waist the moment he felt your leg step in between his, touching his cock with your thigh. There is a smirk painting your features, making Hongjoong know exactly what game you are playing. So, without a second thought, Joong’s hands grip a handful of your ass, squeezing your cheeks in front of the poor boy. You moaned, not holding back from your little show, and Hongjoong was eating all of it up.

“Tell him to wait outside, unless he wants to witness me fucking my darling princess stupid.” His voice echoed in the room, making your glossed eyes, scan his face with anticipation. You had always wanted Seonghwa to join you or even just watch from afar. The idea of him sitting in the corner of the room pumping his cock while watching Hongjoong rail you on his desk, it sends a chill down your spine.

The young boy ran so quickly out of the room it almost made you laugh, but you didn’t have time for that as Joong pushed you onto the desk, pushing all the papers and important files onto the floor letting your back hit the table with a huff. Hongjoong’s lips latched onto your neck, grinding his hips on yours. His rough jeans felt so delicious against your clit as your choked-up moans catch your throat, then your eyes suddenly catch a tall, beefy glass of walking sin, standing in the door frame with crossed arms and a smirk.

“Look what we have here.” Seonghwa’s voice sent a tingle through your body as your eyes locked on his. Hongjoong’s bites got harsh, making your moans grow loud, and the only thing coming to mind was that tonight was going to be fun.

- ♥︎

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harveybwabbit92 · 9 months

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[Spark-doll au: Mother and Father of Ultra head to R/n's Earth to congratulate R/n and Belial on the birth of their daughter Isla.]

Mother of Ultra, to Father: Are you okay, dear?

Father of Ultra, shaking from nerves: What am I gonna say? This is the guy who betrayed us. But on the other hand, he's still my best friend. So many conflicting emotions. How to express them?

[Mother looks concerned as she knocks on the door.]

Belial, answering the door: ...Kenny?

[Without a word Father of Ultra punches Belial in the face; knocking him out cold, than calmly steps over him greets a stunned R/n and enters the house much to Mother's mortification.]

#s: the simpsons #ultraman incorrect quotes #tokusatsu incorrect quotes #tokusatsu #ultraman #spark doll au #ultraman belial x reader #ultraman belial #afab reader #father of ultra #ultraman ken #mother of ultra #ultrawoman marie #toku #ultra series #ultraman x reader #alien x reader

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lumineary-arts · 10 months

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Adding to my own version of the mansion AU, I was sort of switching up the casting a ton but I ultimately landed on these three. I know there are a lot of different versions of the AU so here's my spin on it! :) A version of episode 5 where there are Thuzi sparks, Lizzy's a diva who knows how to use a sword, and Doll's out for blood. Wondering if I should make a new human to replace Tessa or just change her look to resemble Doll's hair more. Either way, the main focus is the concept of Doggo N aka "xXDawg_Luv3rXx" meeting little maid Uzi!! :D

#glitch productions #murder drones #murder drones lizzy #murder drones thad #murder drones doll #absolute solver #murder drones episode 5 #murder drones au #thuzi hints?

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the-travelling-witch · 11 months

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𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

summary: every artist knows, inspiration can be found anywhere; so why not in the sheets as well?

pairing: piercer & tattoo artist! scara (from my genshin modern au) x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, somewhat mean! scara, name calling (slut), slight degradation mixed with praise, pet names (doll, pretty), mirror sex, oral (f! receiveing), unsafe sex (rings probably shouldn’t go there, take ‘em off before you get nasty), unprotected sex (just remember you could get pregnant and if the thoughts of children doesn’t scare you… then the thought of an std should), porn without plot (what’s plot), talk about piercings and tattoos, pierced/ tattooed! scara

this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!

genshin impact masterlist || modern au masterlist

You recalled stumbling into your boyfriend’s dark apartment, your feet catching the edges of various furniture as the two of you tugged on each other’s clothes, mouths not parting from each other on your way to the bedroom. It took all your strength to stay upright on wobbly knees, Scara’s tongue caressing your own and greedily swallowing all the noises that escaped you.

His iron grip on your waist and your arms slung around his neck kept you up as his tongue, pierced with a metal ball, grazed yours with every other motion, the difference in texture keeping you on your toes and making every kiss feel new and exciting.

The next moments were hazy but, soon thereafter, ringed hands travelled your body and slowly pulled your top off, exposing more and more skin to the indigo eyes studying every sliver of it. Lifting yourself from the mattress, you helped him get the article of clothing out of the way before sinking back into the soft pillows, stripped completely bare from the hips upwards, and Scara wasted no time getting to work.

Ever the artist, he dedicated the first few minutes to adding more reddish hues to the canvas that was your skin, already eager to run his fingers over the purplish bruises they’d leave around your shoulders and collarbones in the morning. You couldn’t help the shiver which overtook you as you felt him shift his weight lower on your body, his tongue travelling down your sternum, making goosebumps rise in the wake of the smooth metal on your heated skin.

Mischievous eyes drunk in how dishevelled you already looked, planning how to have you writhing in his sheets in no time. Before you could question the spark in his eyes, painted nails had already closed around one of your pebbled nipples, twisting the poor bud and pulling a surprised gasp from you which transitioned into a breathy moan as his lips wrapped around its twin. Watching for your reaction, he lightly pressed your nipple towards the roof of his mouth, rolling the sensitive skin between his lips and flicking his piercing against it.

“Ah-! Scara!” The sensation had you arching your back into his touch, your hands flying up to root your fingers in his midnight blue hair, as heat shot down to your core. You could feel his smirk against your body before he pulled off with a pop.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” He grinned, eyes darkened in the dimly lit room. Sitting up to straddle where your hips met your thighs, he pushed his flat palm down onto the valley of your breasts before slowly -teasingly- dragging it downwards, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference between his fingers and the rings littering them. “I wonder, is this all it takes to rile you up? I might as well check, right?”

After stopping his movements right at the waistband of your bottoms, he made a show of dipping his fingers under the material first before working them off completely with your help. When the garment landed in the pile forming on the floor next to the bed, he repositioned himself between your spread legs, calloused hands tantalisingly gliding up the plush of your thighs. A beat of silence passed in which you both drank in the sight of each other; you, undressed and with glazed over eyes spread out on his bed, and Scara, framed by the light highlighting the piercings on his cheek as he towered over your form.

“Let’s see then, shall we?” He whispered, not being able to resist the temptation of snapping the elastic of your underwear and making you jump at the slight sting. Trailing his fingers down at an excruciating, leisurely pace, his nails merely grazed the delicate skin around your core, just to hear you whine his name in frustration. Switching up his tune, he dragged the digit over the soaked material of your last remaining piece of clothing. An amused chuckle slipped past his lips, not hiding his glee even a little. “As I thought, you really are getting off on just this. When were you going to tell me I’m dating a little slut huh?”

“I’m not-” The sudden pressure on your clit combined with the mean nickname had you cutting yourself off with a high-pitched whine. Opening your eyes again, you found yourself staring up at your boyfriend’s expression curled into a smirk. “That’s not fair!”

“Oh but we both know you like it when I’m being unfair.” Leaning down next to your ear, you could feel his breath fanning its shell, his voice low as if he was sharing a secret. “You get off on being my little plaything, letting me do whatever I want with you. And the best part? You enjoy it. You enjoy it so much I can feel your thighs twitch just from talking to you like this, no doubt ruining those flimsy panties of yours even more when I haven’t even put my hands on you in earnest.”

The worst -or best– part was he was right and you were both well aware. Nothing wound you up faster than hearing the honey-dipped venom drip from his lips as he toyed with you and your release, cruelly denying it or giving you so much of it your senses were flooded with only him and the pleasure he brought upon you.

After continuing to dart his touch from one place to the other without ever staying in one place long enough to scratch that itch building in your core, he finally decided to show you some mercy and strip you completely bare. With all of you on display for him, Scara took the liberty of studying how your arousal shone in the bedroom light as your glistening cunt clenched around nothing from the anticipation.

“Stop staring and get on with it already!” Even to your own ears the plea sounded a little too desperate considering how little had happened thus far. And your boyfriend was quick to remind you, too.

“Listen to you, so eager to let me fuck you,” he laughed. “Fine, fine, guess I’ll give you what you want.”

That was all the warning you got before he thrust a finger inside to the last knuckle, embarrassingly little resistance stopping him. On the contrary, it was more as if your walls kept sucking him back in, clinging to skin and metal, when he pulled the digit back out.

The difference in texture and temperature made for a combination that kept you on your toes, never quite able to anticipate how the next stroke would feel or which his jewellery would catch next. Adding a second finger, Scara distracted you from how he shifted his weight further down the bed and used one hand to push your legs further apart, slotting his shoulders between your thighs.

You squirmed in his hold as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, his mouth level with your core as he let his breath fan your slick-covered folds, which were still being abused by his cruel fingers. Tightening his hold on your thigh, he brought you closer to his kiss-swollen lips, only to stop when he was hovering right over your twitching clit.

“Eyes on me, doll,” he breathed, mouth almost brushing against you with the ghost of a touch. When you looked down, piercing indigo eyes were already focused on you, half of your boyfriend’s face already obscured by your own body. Something about the intimacy of the position and the intensity of his attention on you made you heat up as you fought to hold the eye contact.

Satisfied, Scara lowered his mouth all the way down to close the small gap and now you were burning up. Feeling his lips close around your clit tore an obscene moan from you, especially when he flicked his tongue with the silver ball against it, much like he did earlier, with the sole intent of getting you to arch into his touch. Simultaneously, he curled his fingers upwards and curled them as if he beckoned you closer to him despite already enjoying the most intimate proximity, brushing the spot he knew you liked but purposely missing it, laughing at your whine.

When you were twisting and panting enough for his liking, clearly starting to unravel at the seams, he switched it up by increasing the pressure on the little bud and angling his fingers to hit that spot dead on. Tangling your fingers in his hair and the fabric of the sheets, you tried grounding yourself as your mind flew into overdrive and stars danced across your vision. It wasn’t the first time he’d eaten you out and that knowledge fuelled the fire in your belly, convinced he did it just as much for his pleasure as for yours. Something he proved with the groan escaping him as you clenched around the digits stroking your velvety walls. You couldn't help the involuntary jerk of your hips as you felt a sheen of sweat building all over.

“Hold still,” he mumbled, barely pulling far enough away to properly mouth the words. “I’m trying to work here.”

With that, he dove straight back in, tongue dragging over your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers kept working you open. The sounds coming from between your legs were downright obscene, a lewd mixture of your obvious arousal and Scara’s enthusiastic movements, like it was the filthiest make-out session you’d ever seen (and heard). A certain degree of embarrassment climbed up your spine just to be drowned out by the pleasure of the prolonged stimulation you were experiencing.

Subconsciously, you pulled on his roots, to which your boyfriend answered with a guttural groan sending vibrations right through you. With another high-pitched moan, your feet flexed against his back as your toes curled and your thighs clamped shut around his head, the metal of his nostril and dermal piercing cool against your heated skin. Desperate to snap the coil in your stomach, you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth and called out for your boyfriend, less to signal your building orgasm and more because it was the only thing you could think of.

“I’m so close— Scara, please!”

“Begging already? Go ahead, doll, and make a mess on my hand. I know you want to cum all over my fingers,” he purred against your burning up skin. His voice drifted off into a soft whisper, wafting through the fog of your orgasm to bring your attention back to the man between your legs. At this point you were barely coherent, only babbling moans intermixed with your boyfriend’s name.

“Keep saying my name, pretty,” he moaned against your folds. “Let me hear who’s making you cum like this.“

You complied with his request easy enough, not that you really needed the incentive. And then you let go, letting wave after wave of pleasure rush over you, giving in to the sensation spreading through your body. Meanwhile, Scara, who had slowly pulled his fingers out of you, was busy lapping up your release, guiding you back down from your high not letting a single drop go to waste. Only when he was sure there was nothing left did he carefully slip your legs from his shoulders, sitting up between them as your gaze remained stuck on him

And you were glad it did, because you didn’t want to miss the way Scara’s tongue flicked between his fingers to clean your essence off of them, his jewellery shinier than ever from your arousal clinging to it. The sight had you holding your breath rather than catching it. Cleaning his lips from the slick clinging to them, he leant down, so he could lean down and press a kiss to your temple. “That’s it, ‘did so well for me, pretty. How are you feeling? Doing good?”

“Mhm,” you replied, still a little drunk on the pleasure he just delivered to you. “Felt amazing.”

“Good,” he mused against your skin, unoccupied hands massaging your sore thighs, one of them smearing your release mixed with his spit onto the muscle. Pulling back to look into your eyes and check your reaction, he asked “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah, I want to,” you affirmed. Showing him a small smile and trailing your hand down his chest to the front of his pants, strained by a prominent bulge, you added, “Can’t make this all about me, can I? I want you to feel good too.”

“My, aren’t I lucky to have such a considerate partner?” While the statement came out sarcastic, you knew he actually meant it. If you had told him you were too exhausted to continue, you knew he would have respected that. But frankly, you needed him to fuck you stupid. “Or perhaps it’s less about me and you’re an insatiable little minx who wants to be stuffed even after already cumming? Well, not that I mind either way.”

“A little bit of both maybe,” you chuckled, brushing some of his bangs out of his face. With some of your clarity returning to you, bantering came easy again. “I’d probably feel a lot more motivated if you lost some of your clothes as well.”

“So honest too,” your boyfriend laughed along, pressing another kiss to your forehead before granting your wish. Revealing his lean build and toned stomach by discarding his baggy shirt was always a sight to behold, especially with all the ink covering the skin and flexing alongside his muscles. But as much as you appreciated the view of your boyfriend shirtless, your heart leapt into your throat every time he undressed fully. You knew some of his friends made fun of Scara for his height but damn if they knew where all those inches went…

“Careful, you’re starting to drool,” he teased. Helping you up, he manoeuvred you to sit in his lap at the edge of the bed, your back pressed firmly against his chest. In this position you could clearly feel his hard dick against your backside, smearing precum along your skin and furthering his promise. “You know, if you wanted to get fucked dumb, you could’ve just said so. I’m more than happy to help you out.”

“Noted,” you said. But before you could add a quip of your own, you were cut off by your own strangled yelp when you felt him bite down at the base of your neck. Not hard enough to cause any serious irritation but enough to get your attention back on him.

“You know I love that smart mouth you have on you but right now all I want to hear you moan is my name and how good I’m filling you.” And with just this shift in his tone, you were already nodding along, clearly establishing who was holding the reins here. Lifting you by your hips, Scara aligned your pulsing core with the mushroom tip of his cock, groaning at the slick heat. “So pliant and obedient for me… Now be good and watch as you take me.”

For a second you were confused before your eyes met your own in the floor-length mirror across from you. The surprised arch of your brows only lasted for a second though before you felt Scara push the head past the muscles of your entrance, the initial sting eased by your previous release but still a delicious stretch. You shut your eyes and turned your head at witnessing the round ‘o’ shape your mouth parted into and, immediately, your boyfriend held you still, not allowing you to sink further down on his length.

“Didn’t I make myself clear?” He asked, one hand leaving your hips and grasping your jaw instead, angling your face to look forward again. “I told you to watch yourself. Don’t make me say it again. You wouldn’t want me to.”

Your weak ‘Y-Yes’ sounded pathetic even in your own ears but you craved nothing more than to stretch yourself further on his dick and you’d do whatever to get there. So you complied and cracked your eyes open again to take in the compromising position you were in, knees spread and hovering over your boyfriend's lap.

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He cooed right next to your ear, the low timbre of his voice grazing your ear as he rewarded you by inching you down his dick at an excruciatingly slow pace. As you stared into the mirror you had a first row ticket to seeing the coherent thoughts slip from your mind as Scara mouthed down your neck, pierced tongue flicking over particularly nasty marks he left.

Despite all the previous preparations made, it was still a tight fit as you struggled to take all of him. So when you neared his base and your walls clamped down hard on him, one hand slid up to play with nipples some more as the other traced circles into your hip and provided something for you to hold on. Your second palm found the back of his head again as you arched your back and a string of moans intersected with curses spilt past your lips.

“You’re doing so well, almost there, pretty. See?” Pressing down on his length through your skin had you positively mewling from the stimulation as well as the image you saw in the mirror. Relief washed over you when you finally sank all the way down and could rest your strained thighs against his. As he pressed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, the two smooth piercings on his own traced the turn of his head. “I knew you could do it, you always do. You were basically made to take me. Nobody else could stuff you this well anyway.”

“Fuck! Only you, Scara,” you whined as you accommodated his length and waited for the pain to give way to pleasure. “Please fuck me, I need you so badly.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” On the first drag out, he made sure you could feel each and every vein against your sensitive walls before slamming back in with a single thrust. His deep strokes never failed to knock the air from your lungs and soon enough you were gasping at your own reflection, pleasure intensified by watching how his dick glistened from your arousal more every time he pulled back out before pushing in with a wet squelching sound.

When your gaze drifted towards an indigo one, you were hardly surprised to find your boyfriend already watching you. Whether it was the furrow of your brows, your parted lips, the sweat rolling down your neck or the bounce of your chest, to him it was all incredibly alluring, especially because he was the one who got you into this blissed out state in the first place.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” he mused into the crook of your neck, voice betraying just a bit of the strain he must be feeling. “But I have some improvement ideas.”

“Ye-ah?”

Catching your bouncing breasts in his palms, his fingers trapped the skin of your areolas and rolled it around, applying just the right amount of pleasure. “Don't get me wrong, these are cute as they are but I bet they’d look even hotter with piercings in them. What do you think, doll? Would you let me pierce those gorgeous nipples of yours?”

There was no need to actually nod your head, the way you squeezed his cock at the imagination was a dead give away of how much you enjoyed the fantasy of letting your boyfriend do just that. Just envisioning the exciting sting when he’d pull on the delicate jewellery while in a position similar to this had your hips buck down of their own accord.

“Yeah? You like that?” You could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice without having to tear your eyes away from the fingers playing with your chest, thighs trembling as the second high of the night creeped up on you, further amplified by the idea of shiny jewellery decorating your body. “Getting close again? I can feel you clamping down on me, no need to deny it.”

By now, there was no thought running through your head aside from your boyfriend and how deep he was hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. You were giving it your all to follow his command of watching yourself but at one point it became too much and your head rolled back into his shoulder, baring your neck and throat to him completely.

But you weren’t the only one nearing your orgasm. Although better at hiding it, there was no concealing the laboured groans next to your ear or the heated throbbing of Scara’s cock inside you, his hips snapping up into yours more erratically. Snaking one hand down your front once more, deft fingers drawing figure eights on your aching clit.

“Bet you’d even let me pierce you down here, yeah? Making this little thing even more reactive, just so I can rile you up more? You’re such a slut, I bet you’d even beg me to do it,” he panted breathlessly, pinching the area in question to underline his point.

“Scara, please—!”

“Fuck, yeah just like that.” His laugh came out stuttered. “Let me mark what’s mine, yeah? Make sure nobody gets any funny ideas—“

Both of your voices trailed off into whines and groans as you gripped him like a vice, having him doubling his effort to pull back out as you sucked him back in. Then, your thighs locked up and you let out the sweetest yet most sinful moan of the night, trembling through your high as you milked your boyfriend for all his worth. With stuttering hips, he slammed in one more time as deep as he could and bit down on your shoulder as thick, hot spurts of cum filled you up.

Catching your breath, you slumped back bonelessly against his chest as he rode out his orgasm before you pushed the hand that was still meanly tracing your clit away with a weak whine. You felt his chuckle as much as you heard it while he pressed a kiss to the mark he left with his teeth. Despite his cock still plugging you up, you could feel some of his load dribbling from your spent hole.

Slowly, you loosened the death grip you had on his hair, flexing your fingers to regain some of the feeling in them. Finding your voice again, you inquired “So, about those piercings… Did you mean it?“

“Oh, definitely.” Eyeing the darkening skin of your shoulders and collarbones mischievously, he met your gaze through the mirror, bucking his hips up just enough to feel you clench around him again. “Perhaps you could give me some more inspiration for a new tattoo as well~”

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1800jjbarnes · 1 year

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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓: 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Dimly Lit Bathroom

【Synopsis】 : Bucky couldn't keep his hands off you on a regular basis. But when he sees you in such a sexy outfit, he has no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.

『W.C』 : 801

-> Genre: Modern Avenger Au. Suggestive.

Pairing: Avenger!WhiteWolf!Bucky x ShieldAgent!Reader

[Warnings] : Fingering. Marking. Pet names. Dirty bar bathroom sex. Clit play. Making out.

Masterlist | Kinktober List

You never thought Bucky would be up for something as risky as this. Cause let's face it, even though he loved attention, you never expected him to be rushing you towards the women's bathroom in the back of a loud crowded bar away from your group of friends that would surely be looking for you both at any moment now. His grip on your wrist was tight, while his eyes scanned for a spot perfect for what he wanted to do. When he saw you show up in your outfit tonight, he couldn't keep his eyes anywhere but on your body and the way you swung your hips to the beat or laughed at one of his friend's jokes, he knew in the bluntest way possible, needed to fuck the living shit out of you.

The bathrooms were covered in graffiti, and the smell of overly-scented perfumes and weed tickled your nose enough to make you cough lightly. And the mess was severely unhygienic. But none of that mattered at that moment. All that did was getting your lips on his. And that is exactly what happened. Teeth clashing and tongues were dancing. Desperation was the only thing present, and Bucky was in the mood to feed it.

”You look so fucking hot in this outfit baby, I can’t keep my hands to myself.” His breath tickled your flesh as his words danced down your jaw to your neck. He bit down harshly on your jugular, suckling a purple love mark on you. You just leaned against the countertop, taking his assault on your neck obediently. If someone were to walk through the main door and swing the corner they would be greeted straight away with a sight of the century. The white wolf, the infamous winter soldie, fucking his pretty girlfriend. The idea sparked excitement, the crudeness, the rawness. Everything was so dirty. Something you’ve never done. And Now Bucky was the one tainting you into enjoying something as messy as this situation.

His right hand was kept tightly on your hips, but his metal left hand explored your body. Squeezing your breast lightly, tugging on your clothes, and slipping into the top of your pants. His cold fingertips glided along your panties, pulling on the fabric before letting it go so it would snap back against your skin. You hissed at the feeling. Bucking your hips, you non-verbally gave him approval to slip further into your undergarments, letting him cup your pussy. His long fingers slip along your folds, stroking until he finds your clit, pressing down harshly. “Like that doll face?”

You nodded like a ridiculous bobblehead, moaning as your hips didn’t falter against his hand. His free hand, which sat on your hip, slowly made its way to your neck, wrapping around it tight enough to cause your brain to short-circuit. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and no matter how loud the yelling and noise people call singing outside grew, all he could focus on was your pretty voice. His slim appendages slipped into your dripping cunt thrusting in and out at the pain-staking pace. He watched your face scrunch up with your brows knotting on the top of your cute head. Your eyes opened vaguely, staring at him with his favourite expression. Fucked out and begging.

“Please, Buck. F-faster pleaseee.” Your words made his ego grow, and the way you sounded was so hypnotic, how could he possibly say no? but he wanted you to work for it.

“Come on baby, you can be louder. Let everyone hear how good I’m making you feel..”It was only when you heard his growling voice that you remembered you were in a very public place and that anyone could see you in such a vulnerable position. But yet a tingle in your gut made you realize you didn’t care. All you cared about was being a good girl for Bucky and getting what you wanted. So you moaned, heck almost screamed his name as he got faster, maybe not as loud as the music but definitely loud enough that if anyone were to come to the door they would hear you.

And as you got closer to your release, Bucky held onto you tighter, clashing his lips on yours. You came all over his hand with a high-pitched moan feeling your brain fill with fuzz. It was euphoric and messy all at once. “You think the others would be looking for you by now?” you choked out panting against your lover's neck.

Bucky had to chuckle, catching his gaze in the mirror behind you. Kissing your cheek, he noticed a pair of eyes in the mirror, hiding behind the corner. “Don’t worry, I have a feeling they know what we're doing.”

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ichorai · 1 year

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the scientist & the assassin ; natasha romanoff.

read part two ; afterlife.

pairing ; natasha romanoff x gn!scientist!reader

synopsis ; fragments of time with your girlfriend, soon-to-be-wife, natasha.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, established relationship, scientist au

warnings / includes ; a bit of cursing, blood/injury, set before civil war era, avengers found family trope idec, sexual innuendos, bucky and sam annoying reader lol, steve being an absolute sweetheart, mentions of fire, liho cameo, mentions of yelena

main masterlist.

JANUARY.

Small sparks flew up from the welding torch as you worked the blue flame over the metal, eyes narrowed with concentration. It was a delicate process, and you were taking extra caution not to mess the process up. You were building new protective gear on Nick Fury’s request, and had to make sure that it was without fault.

Your girlfriend of three years, however, clearly had other plans. Natasha was leaning against your workbench, brows quirked as she repeated the question that had flown right over your head in the midst of your fixation.

You hastily turned the fire off and shoved the protective welding mask away from your face so you could properly look at her. “Huh? Did you say something?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, though not without a ghost of a grin to her lips. With a sigh, she asked the question for a third time. “I know you’re busy making all your little gizmos and gadgets… but are you coming to Tony’s party?”

A beat of silence. You blinked in confusion. It was only then did you realize that your girlfriend was all dressed up, face dolled up with flawless makeup, donned in a silken, viridescent dress that complimented her figure beautifully. “What party?”

“The annual New Years’ party—Tony’s asked you to come a million times. You’re not gonna leave me all alone with him, are you?” Natasha asked, walking closer to you until her nose was only an inch from yours, placing her hands on the lapels of your lab coat, tugging you closer.

A gulp lodged in your throat. “No, ma’am,” you murmured, lips dipping forward to catch hers.

She leaned back before you could, however, tilting her head expectedly. There was a playful glint to the deep green of her irises. “Go get ready, then. I already laid out a matching outfit for you to save you the hassle. Who knows… maybe we can leave a bit early too…”

Before she could finish her sentence, you were already shirking off your white coat, hurrying out of the laboratory to get changed for the party. Natasha couldn’t help the amused smile gracing the corner of her lips as she watched you scramble away.

FEBRUARY.

Blood dripped from her cheek. Her hair, her dress, her legs. She was drenched in it.

A shuddering sigh of exhaust fell from her split lips. She gingerly slipped out of her heels, holding the two of them in one hand and walking up to the house barefoot.

“Nat,” you whispered in part-horror, part-concern at her bloodied state when you swung the door open.

“It’s not mine,” she hoarsely mumbled, slipping past you, bee-lining towards the bathroom, in dire need of some cleaning.

Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, plagued with memories of the bloodbath of a mission. There were many questions you wanted to ask her, but you held your tongue. She was in no state to answer your barrage of queries, and needed nothing more than someone to care for her, for a change.

Gently, you took her crimson-slickened hands within yours, uncaring of the blood smearing on your skin. You led her to the rest of the way to the bathroom, gently telling her to take a seat on the edge of the bathtub. A small towel cloth was dampened beneath the faucet, and you slowly cleaned off the delicate wounds littered over her arms, her face, and her abdomen. The two of you were completely silent, basking in the comfort of being there for each other. Natasha’s green eyes shone with simultaneous gratitude and hollow trauma. For a moment, it appeared as if she was going to weep, but she kept the tears at bay.

Once you cleaned off most of the blood, you left the bathroom to fetch her some of her sleep clothes—which was really just a worn, sleeveless shirt of some obscure rock band you didn’t recognize, and a soft pair of basketball shorts. She had wiped away the rest of the blood when you came back, stripping her outer layers and shirking them into the sink to wash later.

For now, the both of you just needed to sleep.

She slipped on the pajamas, before settling into the bed with a lethargic sigh.

“Thank you,” she croaked out just as you clambered beneath the blankets on the other side of the large bed.

You hummed in response, roping her close to you, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. This time, Natasha had to willfully force the urge to cry away.

“Get some rest, Nat. I love you,” you said into her skin.

Natasha relaxed into your hold, eyes drooping shut. She wanted to say that she loved you back, but found that she was already falling into a deep slumber.

MARCH.

“What about Jennifer? She’s in the analytics department,” said Natasha, sipping on her iced tea as she eyed Steve expectantly. “I can set you up with her if you want.”

The blonde man shifted uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know, Nat—”

“For God’s sake, Nat, stop it already!” you exclaimed, but not without an exasperated smile to your lips. “Look at him, you’re embarrassing the poor guy. Sorry, Steve—she’s just looking out for you.”

The hundred-year-old man smiled handsomely, forking some scrambled eggs into his mouth. “It’s fine. I’m not really looking to date at the moment… still trying to figure out how things work this century before I can really settle down.”

“Well, you take your time, Steve,” you told him gently.

“You sure? Rumor has it Allison from human resources has had her eye on you for a while—ow! I was joking!” she exclaimed when you sharply elbowed her in the ribs. “But, really, Cap… I’m happy you’re taking your time.”

The blonde hummed gratefully. “What about you two? Any plans on…” He gestured vaguely, which made you and Natasha glance at each other with a grin.

Your girlfriend scoffed, the green of her eyes glimmering with mirth. “Why? You wanna be the best man?”

Steve seemed to splutter at that, vehemently trying to backtrack. Heat flushed his cheeks a soft pink hue.

“I’m just pulling your leg, Steve,” Natasha quipped, playfully kicking at his foot beneath the table. “Lighten up, will you?”

“We haven’t even spoken about marriage yet,” you chimed in, smiling warmly at the ex-assassin. “But who knows? Maybe we will soon.”

APRIL.

Nails tapped loudly against the surface of the table she was sitting on, legs crossed as she languidly leaned back, staring up at the artificial white lights of the laboratory. She was saying something—something about her last mission with Tony.

Judging by her expression you quickly stole a glance at, you could tell that she was complaining. There was a slight knit to her brow, and she was frowning ever so slightly.

You made quiet, absentminded noises of acknowledgement as she told her story, nodding emphatically. You were working on a device to immediately disable strong magnetic fields, tinkering with the small bits and pieces with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe I should just stop worrying about him—it’s not my problem if Tony drinks until he can barely stand up…”

She trailed off, tilting her head back down to watch you work. With an amused scoff, she said your name. Without taking your eyes off your work, you merely hummed, “Mhm?”

“You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said, have you?”

Hopping down from the table, she made her way closer to you, her fingers nimbly slotting beneath your chin. You met her gaze, briefly glancing down at her parted lips, skin flushing with embarrassment.

Sheepish, you grinned apologetically. “Sorry, Nat.” She arched a sharp brow and you winced. “I love you…?”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha acquiesced, a ghost of a grin tracing the corner of her lips. “I love you, too.” She let you go to haul herself back up onto the table, swinging her legs in an almost child-like manner. “Anyways, as I was saying…”

MAY.

Sunglasses, glasses of chilled orange juice, and warm sand beneath your feet.

Closer to the beach’s shallow waves, Bruce, Steve, and Clint were playing with a frisbee, while Tony and Thor were off on a ski-boat, skimming across the waters much faster than they probably should be going. The team was on a little mini-vacation, needing some well-deserved rest after going on nonstop, continuous missions.

A book was cracked open on your lap, one that you had been meaning to start for ages now, but never had the time before. Beside you was your girlfriend, lathering sunscreen over her arms and exposed skin. “Did you put on sunscreen?” she asked you, offering the bottle.

“Yeah,” you replied, prying your eyes away from the novel to press a kiss to her cheek, and then another to the side of her nose.

She grinned beautifully, the green of her eyes gleaming with fondness. “You’re such a nerd. Who brings a book to the beach?”

“Well… look who’s dating the nerd who brought a book to the beach?” you replied with a level tone, trying your best to suppress your growing smile.

Huffing in amusement, Natasha lightly shoved you, taking another sip of her orange juice. “God, it just feels like we never get to fully relax like this, you know? I wish every day could be like this.”

Shutting your book, you placed it off to the side and shuffled closer to her, curling an arm over her shoulders.

“Yeah,” you hummed, tracing aimless shapes along the skin of her arm. Hesitant, you spoke up again, “Hey, you remember when Steve asked us about getting married?”

“Mhm?”

“Well, uhm…” you started, but thought better of it, not wanting to ruin such a perfect moment as this one by forcing your girlfriend into a commitment you weren’t even sure she really wanted.

When you trailed off, Natasha pulled away from you slightly, her head cocked in an expectant manner.

“If you’re not gonna ask me, then I will,” she told you with a laugh to her voice. “You wanna get married?”

For a moment, you spluttered for words, not expecting this turn of events.

“You… Nat, are you sure?” you rasped, cupping her face gently. “I don’t want you to rush into anything. Yes, a thousand times yes, but fair warning—it means you’ll be stuck with me forever. Forever is like… a really long time.”

Natasha hummed, leaning forward until your nose brushed against hers. Gods, you loved this woman so fucking much.

“Sounds like a nightmare,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile to her lips. “Sign me up.”

With that, she kissed you, tasting of orange juice and a tiny bit of sunscreen.

JUNE.

Sam and Bucky hovered around your lab like a pair of incessant flies that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you swatted at them.

“Don’t touch that, Bucky,” you found yourself saying nearly twenty times, followed by an exasperated sigh as he would proceed to prod and poke at the machinery.

Sam was no better, asking you about a million questions in regard to all the different gadgets and gizmos in progress.

On a normal day, you usually wouldn’t let these two into your lab, but you were ordered to fix and improve both of their broken comm links, and made the terrible mistake of inviting them to come watch. Of course, they grew bored of watching you toy with wires and circuits, opting to wander around your lab with wide, curious eyes.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, holding up a small, black cube half the size of his palm.

“Collapsible motorcycle,” you replied, briefly glancing at him, before returning your gaze to your work on the table. “Just don’t press the button on the bottom.”

Whistling with clear impression, Sam looked nearly tempted to try it out. But he knew you would slice his hand off if he did, so he set the cube back down. “That’s sick, man. Who’s it for?”

“Nat,” you said. “Made it for her. It’s still in its testing phase—I’m hoping it'll be all done and ready by her birthday.”

Bucky glanced over Sam’s shoulder to look at the cube. “I like riding motorbikes,” he said. “Could you make me one?”

“Unless you could get Fury to order me, that’s a no,” you huffed out with a mild laugh. “I barely agreed to fix your comms for you—which, by the way, how did you even break them this bad? Did you guys pour a bucket of water over and stomp on them, or something?”

At the memory of Bucky and Sam both accidentally tumbling into a river during a mission, they both grimaced.

“Something like that, sure,” said the century-old man, wearily pulling at his face.

“That’s not fair,” Sam, a full grown man, just about whined. You halted in your ministrations, raising a brow. “How come you don’t make us any fancy little tools or weapons or bikes or magical gizmos, but you make ‘em for Nat?”

Scoffing, you dipped your head back down to continue polishing off their comms. “Yeah, well, she’s my fiance.”

“And?” said Sam, placing his hands on his hips. “Am I not your best friend? Is Mr. Cyborg here not your second best friend?”

Another deeply amused laugh rumbled from within your chest. “With how you two are behaving, I’d say Steve is my best friend right now.”

The two were left sulking in your lab for the next hour, with Bucky nearly catching on fire when he picked up a flamethrower disguised as a potted plant. Both of them left with charred fingers, singed eyebrows, and about half a dozen of your tiny gadgets stuffed within their pockets.

JULY.

It was Steve’s birthday, which meant Natasha organized a barbecue in Clint’s large backyard. There were red, white, and blue streamers hung up over the trees and over the house’s porch, several star-shaped lanterns decorating the wooden tables set out. Bruce and Tony were manning the grills, while you were playing a game of catch with Peter and Clint’s kids. The rest of the Avengers were gathered by one of the tables, piling up their plates high with food.

The air was heavy with the mouth-watering aroma of cooking hot dogs, grilled corn, and juicy burgers. Dessert was an assortment of cookies, an array of melting popsicles, and a large blue birthday cake that made Steve smile so wide it was yet to leave his face.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Natasha speaking to Thor, her hand extended out to him as the God inspected the ring on her finger.

“A grand ring, that is!” the Norse God bellowed. “Green suits you, Natasha.”

“Thanks, Thor,” said your fiance, grinning warmly. The two walked off to grab some hotdog buns and harass Tony to hurry up with cooking.

The ball nearly hit you in the face because you were so busy staring at Natasha, stopping inches from your nose when Peter darted forward with his near inhumane reaction time to grab it away.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, afraid to have accidentally hurt you by hurling a fast ball at you when you weren’t even paying attention. “Sorry, are you okay? What are you looking at?”

You pursed your lips, glancing one last time at Natasha. A blush creeped up your neck. She was going to marry you soon. How on earth did you get so lucky?

“Nothing, kid. Come on, hand me the ball, why’d you stop?” you cleared your throat in a fruitless attempt to play it off.

Peter followed your line of sight, brows raising when he caught sight of Natasha now showing off her ring to Steve and Bucky. He smiled slightly, but didn’t say anything about it, instead tossing the ball right back to you (which you still somehow missed catching).

AUGUST.

“Here,” you said, handing her the steaming mug of coffee, just how she liked it—dark with a tiny bit of sugar. “You okay? You’ve been more quiet than usual the past few days.”

The two of you leaned against the balcony’s railing, watching the sun rise over the cityscape, painting the sky a myriad of soft oranges and clementines and tangerines. With your free hand, the other being occupied by your own hot cup of tea, you wrapped around Natasha’s waist, tugging her close. You pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, brushing an errant strand of hair falling away from her loose braid.

“Sorry, I’ve just recently been thinking,” she whispered, a bit distant. “My sister is out there, somewhere. Sometimes I think it’s best to just give her her space, since she hasn’t reached out, either. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me ever again—after all, I’m a living, breathing reminder of the Red Room. The terrible things we were forced to do. I’m not too upset about it… it’s not like we were a real family, anyway. I don’t know. I guess I just miss her.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to tell her. Go find her sister? Forget about her? Tell her to think about it some more? Natasha rarely ever spoke about her past, much less her temporary ‘fake’ family.

A frown crossed over your lips, brows divoting. “Nat, if your sister really wanted to see you, she would reach out. You’re an Avenger—it’s not that hard to find you. You can’t really say the same about her… you don’t know a single thing about where she might be now. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Natasha sipped on her coffee, blowing out a tired sigh. Tears warbled over her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, sniffing slightly.

“Do you think she remembers me?” her voice broke just a bit. “Because sometimes I forget what her face looks like. Did she have blue eyes, or were they green like mine? How blonde was her hair? What did her smile look like? I… I’m scared I’ll just completely forget and I won’t ever see her again to—”

“She remembers,” you murmured in response. “You were her sister. She’d remember.”

Another sniffle. Natasha wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

“God, sorry. I’m such a mess,” she croaked, laughing bitterly.

“And I love you anyway,” you told her, kissing her just below her watery eyes. “Come on—let’s go watch some TV.”

SEPTEMBER.

The wedding was a small, quiet event.

You, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers family were once again gathered in Clint’s expansive yard—though, this time, everybody was dressed much more formally than they had on Steve’s birthday. The ceremony was full of tears and sniffling, tissues and running mascara.

The vows you had written for Nat were long and nearly ramble-y, whilst hers were perfectly short and to-the-point.

Once Bruce had officiated the two of you (having learned how to do so online), you had embraced each other with a watery kiss, grinning against one anothers’ lips. The rest of the group had burst into raucous applause, Tony and Steve the loudest of them all, the two of them being the best men of the wedding.

Then came the food and the dancing, which lasted well into the night.

She was glowing the entire time. Your wife was glowing.

And when you told her so, she smiled, all wide and toothy. “It’s just nervous sweat,” she replied with a laugh as you gripped her waist tighter, before twirling her around in your arms.

“God, I love you,” you murmured, pressing your forehead against hers.

The green of her eyes sparkled with your words. “I love you, too. I can’t believe we’re married now.”

“Take your time,” you hummed. “You’ve got the rest of your life to get used to it.”

OCTOBER.

Your sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth. The table was a mess, covered in orange mush, a dozen knives, and your phone playing a video on how to properly carve a pumpkin.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath when you messed up the shape, letting out a long, drawn-out groan. “Why is this so hard? It’s just a pumpkin!”

When you glanced at Natasha and her fruit, you weren’t at all surprised to see that she was well into carving an intricate, detailed design with wide eye-holes and gnarled teeth.

“It’s not that hard,” she replied with an easy smile, clearly amused at your struggling. “What’s going on with you? You’re usually really good with your hands.”

Heat flushed up your neck and spidered across the skin of your cheeks at the hidden insinuation behind her words. “I don’t know,” you huffed, wiping down your hands on the apron you were wearing. Usually you weren’t one to give up so easily, but you had been tinkering with several new task-droids, and there was no better time than now to test them out.

“What are you doing?” she curiously asked once you slid off your seat, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the little cuboid robots. “God, it feels like I’m in a Black Mirror episode,” she murmured, watching them come to life and start carving up your pumpkin for you with tiny microblades after you input a design for them to work on.

“San Junipero Black Mirror or Metalhead Black Mirror?” you replied, propping your face up on an elbow as you watched the small bots diligently work.

Your wife scowled, her sharp brows divoting. “Definitely Metalhead.”

The both of you shuddered, before you dipped forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m gonna make us a batch of cookies—at least that I know I can’t mess up.”

NOVEMBER.

A wince, a frown, an uncomfortable shift. Natasha was used to pain, and was taught from a young age to steel herself, but the wounds usually never got this bad.

There was a deep slash across her stomach, dark blood dousing the entirety of her abdomen, dripping down her sides and leaking off the lab table you had set her on. You tried to be gentle while you cleaned her up, tried to be quick with the stitches to lessen the pain—but the wound was tender and wide, and you had to slow down to be careful.

The entire time, your face bore an expression of pure worry and concern.

“I’m sorry,” she hoarsely whispered, lips twisted into a grimace.

“For what?” you quietly mumbled, focused on fixing her up.

She blew out a pained sigh as you started another stitch. “For making you worry. I shouldn’t have gone on that mission, I know.”

“Well, you did,” you lightly replied, teeth gnashing together. “No reason to dwell on it. It’s okay, Nat. I’m not mad at you.”

There was a beat of silence. She laid back, fists clenched by her sides as she endured through the pain.

“Just disappointed?” she asked, gingerly laughing, despite the pain it brought to her chest.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I am. I just don’t like seeing you pointlessly throwing yourself headfirst into a suicidal mission, just to come crawling back in shreds. I also don’t like seeing you hurt because I love you, and I need you to be more careful for me.”

Natasha pursed her lips. Her green eyes flashed with pain when you wiped away the excess blood. “Okay,” your wife croaked. “I love you, too.”

DECEMBER.

“Open it!” you goaded, nudging Natasha to the suspiciously unwrapped box.

Her green eyes were narrowed as she shot you a warning look. “I swear to God, if a fake snake is gonna come flying out like last time—”

“It’s your birthday, I would never!” you interrupted impatiently, gesturing to the box once more.

With a huff, Natasha peeled back the loose lids of the cardboard box, making a noise of surprise upon seeing a little black cat curled up inside, snoozing contentedly.

“Oh, my God. You got us a little kitty,” she crooned, slowly picking the cat up. The black-pelted feline purred at the contact, nuzzling her dark nose against Natasha’s face. “This is literally the best thing you’ve ever gotten me. It beats anything you’ve ever made for me!”

Clearing your throat, you toyed with the collapsible motorcycle you had hidden in your pocket. “Well… don’t say that too quickly. You wanna name her?”

Natasha stroked the cat’s dark head, her hazel eyes happily blinking shut. “Liho. It means misfortune in Russian—black cats are bad luck, right? She’ll have to prove her name wrong.”

“Liho,” you parroted, smiling so wide it was a wonder your face didn’t split into two.

With a grin, Natasha placed Liho back down on the ground, who took to weaving between both of your legs, her fluffy tail curved around your shins.

“God, I love you,” your wife suddenly announced, cupping your face between her palms and littering several chaste kisses all over your cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re gonna love me more after this,” you told her, brandishing the small black cuboid from your pocket. “Come on—I’m gonna have to show you this outside. Let’s go, Liho.”

The three of you made your way out of the house, Liho silently following along like a shadow. You beamed brightly at the small cat, then at your wife, who was squinting against the sharp sunlight, smiling nonetheless. It was all so perfect, nearly too good to be true.

Until the collapsible motorcycle burst into flames while you were trying to uncollapse it, which had Natasha yanking the curious Liho away from the growing fire as you ran into the house to grab the extinguisher.

Alright—maybe not entirely perfect… but amazing nonetheless.

“Happy birthday?” you sheepishly said as you doused the flames away. “That was, uh… that was supposed to do that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, setting Liho back down before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You can clean that up later. Let’s go cut the cake—maybe we can skip on blowing out the candles this year.”

As the three of you made your way back inside the house, Natasha glanced down at the little black cat trotting in front of you. “She’s living up to her name so far. God, I can’t believe you got me a cursed cat for my birthday.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff ff #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #natasha romanoff angst #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff drabbles

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kquil · 1 year

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤FIRST TATTOO

REQUEST. : I'd love to see the reader finally deciding to get something tattooed, something sentimental. All 6(soon to be 7) I have all have special meaning. 💖💖 —@twilightlover2007

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; comfort ; james comforts you ; the boys are soft for you ; you get your first tattoo ; you overcome your fear of needles

LENGTH : 1.6k

“Can you do it?” you ask as your nerves persuade you into fiddling with the hem of your long sleeved shirt.

“Of course we can, sweetheart,” Sirius reassures, pulling you into his side by the shoulders and giving you a comforting squeeze, “but are you sure you want it there?” he asks after pulling away to face you towards him and trace his thumb over your desired placement - just under your breasts and against your ribcage.

From beside Remus, James nods in agreement and holds onto your small sketch of the tattoo you want, “the ribcage is one of the most painful places to get a tattoo,” the statement makes you gulp nervously but James’s soft smile stops your nerves from going too crazy, “numbing cream will have to be your best friend, then,”

Smiling, you nod happily. You wanted to keep your tattoo hidden and just for yourself because it’s so meaningful; you didn’t want it in areas that could easily be seen so you were happy that you didn’t need to change the location.

“Just make sure that you apply the numbing cream on the area, at least, 45 minutes before your tattoo appointment,” Remus adds thoughtfully, “you want to make sure that it penetrates deep enough so that it does its job properly,” compliant, you nod and persuade them that you would make sure to do so, “good girl,” Remus smiles and a heat flourishes across your cheeks. Getting praised by Remus always felt extra special; your nerves were very sensitive to his compliments.

Sirius then steps beside James, places his arm around his friend’s shoulders and leans down to examine your sketch. It was a meaningful tattoo that you wanted and drew a sketch for so you felt quite bashful to have it examined so closely by someone like Sirius, who was quite eccentric and very particular about aesthetics.

“Quite the artist, aren’t you, doll?” Sirius commends as the two other men nod along, already having examined your sketch.

“It’s very cute,” James coos fondly.

“But we can tell it’s very important to you so you need to pick the right artist who you think will execute the work best,” Remus smirks as a visible spark of competitiveness appears in James and Sirius’s eyes.

It took a few days of thinking and chats but you concluded that James would be the best one to give you your first tattoo. Both Sirius and James were incredibly talented artists but James’s art style was one that you felt best suited your sketch.

Following your decision, James expressed his clear elation as Sirius pouted like a sulking child. Thankfully, Remus was there to cheer him up with some comforting pats to his shoulder. Seeing Sirius’s usually vivacious demeanour fizzle out into something more reserved made you feel some guilt but he didn’t let you dwell on the feeling for long.

“It’s alright, darling,” he whispers into your hair, his embrace warm and comforting and one that you happily reciprocate with an apologetic tightness, “I just wanted it so much to be me,”

“I’m sorry, Siri,”

“No worries,” he kisses your temple as he’s grown accustomed to doing, in order to comfort you, “I’m just being childish anyway, what matters most is that you’re happy with your first tattoo,” he pulls away to admire your sweet face and give you a reassuring smile, “it’s going to be on your skin forever, after all,”

It took a few sessions with James, where you helped him polish up the design of your tattoo, before you could set an official appointment to get your tattoo done. You didn’t know if the nerves you were feeling were of fear or excitement - sometimes the two different emotions felt the same. The confusion only made you freeze up in the doorway for longer. Remus had led you to where James was preparing the private room for your tattoo.

“Did you remember to put on the numbing cream we gave you?” Remus asks, his voice as soft and warm as the hand he had comfortingly placed on the curve of your hip.

“Y-yeah…” you breathe, leaning into the body of the tall brunette as you both stare at James sanitising the tattoo bed, he then proceeds to effortlessly set up some lighting apparatus before organising his tools and inks.

“James is going to take good care of you, dove, don’t worry,” Remus reassures, unprompted, “James, Sirius and I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that, right?” He looks down when you don’t respond and gently lifts your chin up with his fingers to meet his eyes, “it’s going to be okay,”

All you can muster for Remus is a timid smile before James calls you over to the tattoo bed. The tall brunette beside you, gives you one last smile before softly urging you forward with a hand on your lower back.

“There’s our angel,” James grins and pulls you into his arms, “are you ready for your first tattoo?” Your following silence is deafening but prompts James to begin petting the back of your head soothingly. There’s a noticeable shift in the way he holds you, where his touch becomes gentler and more careful. Rather than addressing your obvious rising anxiety of the situation, James directs your attention to his equipment. He slowly pulls you over to sit on his thigh as he sits in his tech chair, “Do you want to take a closer look at my equipment?” you don’t say anything but you offer your hands for him to place his tattoo needle on.

“It’s kinda heavy,” you mumble under your breath after subconsciously leaning into James’s figure. On his lap, you tuck your head under his chin and continue staring down and examining the tattoo equipment he entrusted to you.

“Yeah, it has to hold the ink and a small motor as well, that's why,” he explains, “it’s pretty cool right?” he asks softly and smiles when he feels you timidly nod against his neck, “it gives you one hell of an ache in your wrist though,” he jokes and feels the mood lighten when you giggle softly with him. He could squeeze you from how adorable you are in his arms but resists to patiently wait for you to calm down.

“...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he kisses the crown of your head and keeps his face pressed into your hair, taking in the smell of your delicious shampoo, “take all the time you need, angel,”

For several minutes, James carefully talks you through the equipment and the process he goes through when he does tattoos until you’re finally comfortable enough to lay down on the table and lift up your loose shirt.

“I think I’m ready now…” you whisper and give a brave smile as James leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers against your skin before he pulls away and pulls on a pair of latex gloves. He then proceeds to sanitise your skin before applying the printed stencil he created of the final design you guys worked on together. But then the door opens.

“You haven’t started yet?” Sirius asks, suddenly walking into the room as he takes off his black gloves and quickly disposes of them in a nearby bin, “how are you doing, sweetheart?” He pulls up a spare tech chair to sit by your head as James continues to go through the necessary prep before equipping his needle.

“I’m doing well,” you answer and Sirius smiles warmly at you, lovingly petting your hair, “James helped me calm down first so everything is a little delayed,”

“Did James take good care of you?” Your following nod and affirming hum is enough to persuade Sirius, who looks over at James, “He better continue doing a good job then,” his statement makes you smile and so does James’s following chuckle.

“No need to get overprotective pads, you know she’s in good hands,” James peels off the stencil and softly warns you that he’s about to begin. It isn’t until you nod before James starts tracing the stencil across your skin with his tattoo needle. A few moments go by where the small, running motor is the only sound that fills the room and you’re astounded by how well the numbing cream is working.

“Are you okay, sweets?” Sirius asks gently, his voice and concern is very comforting.

“Yeah, I don’t feel anything,” you giggle, the sound of which makes the two men smile.

“Good thing that your tattoo is simple and small, it’ll be over before you know it,” James comments and makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

Time quickly passes and, just like James said, it was soon over, leaving you to wonder why you had been so nervous in the first place. Like clockwork, James and Sirius cleaned and tidied up the equipment together before the latter of the two had to excuse himself to meet with a client about their design. It’s not soon after Sirius left with a kiss to your knuckles that Remus stepped into the room with a small complimentary tub of moisturiser for you to take home.

“It’s pretty,” Remus compliments when you finally lift up your shirt to show him the tattoo, “good job James, as usual,” James winks back at you two before Remus turns his full attention to you again, “and well done for overcoming your fear. That was very brave of you, dove,” his comment has you beaming and hugging the soft brunette around the waist.

“Thank you,”

A/N : this was such a sweet request, i hope i did it justice. sorry i took so long, i was overthinking it but just bit the bullet and just went for it. i also left the description of the tattoo vague so that anything you lovelies want to have as your first tattoo in this series, is completely up to you. enjoy the read my loves!

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @neeezza101 @yrluvjane

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders #marauders fic #sirius black #sirius black fic #sirius x reader #james potter #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #the marauders #sirius orion black

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sleepysnk · 2 years

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a/n: i was bored and i’d like to thank @kxmisato for giving me this idea. it really helped me out of my writers block 😁, so thank you ren. i also love hanma, so yeah pls enjoy this horny idea.

pairings: hanma shuji x fem!reader

warnings: modern au, college au, nsfw, smut, mentions of high school but reader and hanma are both in college, brief choking, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, dirty talk, praising, use of pet names (princess, baby, doll, babydoll), unprotected sex, hanma is reader’s brothers best friend, mentions of cigarettes.

dirty secrets ft. hanma shuji

Your older brother’s best friend.

It all started when you were about fourteen years old.

Your older brother was about two years older than you. He was a junior in high school while you were a freshman. Many people often knew who you were because of your brother and how popular he was on campus. He gained the attention of many girls and some of them even tried to befriend you so they could get closer to your older sibling. It bothered you, a lot. It was also awkward when people would straight up tell you how attractive he was or how they wanted him to hook up with them. At times, you never knew how to respond and simply walked away from them. You were very much disturbed by their words and wanted to disappear after those conversations.

However, things changed when you were introduced to your brother’s best friend.

Hanma Shuji.

When you first met him, you were astounded at how attractive he was. He was taller than you by several inches, tattoo’s covered his hands, and he had a variety of black and blonde colored hair. He was a classic bad boy. He ran around campus ditching his classes or spending his Friday nights drinking and getting high with his friends until the sun came up. He easily attracted you the second he walked through the door of your home.

Your small crush turned into a big one as the years passed. Hanma and your brother became so close that they attended the same college with one another. With that fact being at play, Hanma was always hanging around at your place. You often tried to avoid him, but sometimes he’d run into you and try to spark up conversations.

You could hardly look into those honey eyes of his. Talking to him sent you over the edge from how delicious his voice sounded in your ears. He was such a sweet talker. You weren’t that surprised when you heard that some of the girls in your class had slept with him. Secretly, you envied them. This was Hanma Shuji of all people. He was practically every girl’s heartthrob and they got the chance to see him with his clothes off? They were luckier than any other person on the planet.

Years passed, and you were now nineteen.

You attended the same university as your brother. Your mother and father both agreed it’d be a good idea, because if something were to happen to you, there was someone on campus that could help you. As much as your older brother despised it, he dealt with it since he wouldn’t hear the end of it from your parents if he disagreed.

This also meant you saw Hanma often.

Hanma had completely changed in college. He grew slightly taller, and his hair had begun to slightly curl at the ends. He had grown it out so it was no longer sticking up at the top of his head. He also had started smoking cigarettes. You discovered that fact after attending some sorority party, and seeing him with the cancer stick between his lips. He looked just as intimidating as he did when you first met him, but he also had a mysterious aura surrounding him now.

Despite being near each other, you both never talked. Hanma knew who you were and you knew who he was, but you never spoke a single word to one another. You didn’t know if it was because maybe he wasn’t interested or if possibly he didn’t care enough to speak to you. You didn’t really mind much, but it was so weird seeing him when you used to say hello to him all the time at your home.

However, you were much older now. You weren’t some fourteen year old freshman who became shy any time a boy looked in your direction. You knew those feelings would fizzle out eventually for Hanma. He’d hardly give you the time of day, so it didn’t really matter to you in the end.

You were sure of this, so damn sure.

Well, you weren’t so sure now, considering the situation you had found yourself in.

Right now, you were underneath that same man you had a crush on all those years ago. His thick cock kissing at your g-spot, making you squeal in pleasure from how fucking amazing it felt. It was so much better than you imagined. You didn’t think you’d ever gain the chance to feel such ecstasy. All of the girls in your class were right. Hanma Shuji was really a dream in bed.

Hanma intertwined his fingers with yours as he fucked you, keeping up with the hard pace he had originally started with. “F-Fuck.. yeah, just like that, baby. Keep calling my name..” he cooed, peering down at you with pure lust in his golden eyes.

Your body felt like it was on fire. You were well aware that your brother was downstairs, drinking with all of his friends. Part of you was so fucking scared that he’d come up there and find the two of you in the bedroom, but it was too good to for you to even think about stopping. Hanma was doing everything right. He made you feel like you were on the moon from how great his thrusts were. “H-Hanma! Oh, god.. it feels s-so good!” you blubbered, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blade.

He looked like a god up above you. His pretty features were lined with sweat. A sly smirk rested on his face while he watched your fucked out face crinkle with pleasure. If only you could see yourself from his point of view. He wished he had been recording, because you were such a fucking sight like that. “Yeah..? You feel good, princess?” the hand with sin on the back reached to wrap around your throat. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty.. letting your brother’s best friend fuck your little cunt while he’s downstairs..”

Your walls fluttered around his cock from his dirty talk. He was driving you to almost your limit from his actions.

You weren’t sure how the two of you even ended up like this. He was just escorting you to the bathroom and that was it. He even waited out there so nobody would try and creep on you, but you eventually ended up in the bedroom. You partially blamed it on the fact that you had a few sips of a drink before going up there, but you didn’t think he’d be bold enough to make a move on you.

All you knew was that you were in heaven, and you didn’t want this to end. Fuck, you had been craving this moment since you first met. You remembered the times where you’d go back to your dorm and fuck yourself with your fingers, imagining it was his dick filling you up. However, your fingers didn’t compare to the thickness of his cock.

Hanma groaned as he felt you tightening around him slowly. You were bound to be close now, and he was determined to give you the best High you’ve ever had. “Gonna cum, doll? I wanna feel that pretty pussy let go.. all for me.” he purred, using his free hand to play with your swollen clit. “Been wantin’ this pussy for years now..”

That fact only made you inch closer to your orgasm. He was intoxicating you so much to the point where your brain became foggy from the euphoria. “Hanma..! Oh, shit! I’m c-close!” you felt the knot inside of your belly tightening with each thrust. It was becoming unbearable. You could feel tears brimming at your lash line from how great it felt.

Hanma smirked, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He gave your throat a small squeeze then leaned down towards your ear to speak to you. You were so pretty whining underneath him like that. “I’ll make you feel really good, babydoll, I promise.” he said. “Scream my fucking name when you cum.. okay? Let the whole house know who’s making you feel good..”

Your head nodded vigorously at his request. Suddenly, his pace picked up, causing your eyes to roll back from the pleasure. You could hardly contain the moans that fell from your lips. He was driving you insane. Why didn’t you make a move sooner? If you knew he’d treat you this way, you would have taken your chances when you first arrived at college.

As your orgasm drew close, your voice grew louder and louder. It was almost like you were calling his name like it was a prayer. “Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, Hanma! Hanma!” you cried, feeling the coil inside of your belly snap.

Hanma grunted when your walls squeezed his cock. A white ring of cream covered the base, making him smirk. Calling out his name only gave him the confidence to fuck you so good you won’t want anybody else than him. He desired you for so fucking long. He wasn’t about to let some other guy try and take over. He wanted you, and he was going to make sure he’d make you his. He didn’t give a single fuck what your damn brother said.

He leaned towards your face, kissing you as he continued thrusting into you. He swallowed all of your moans as they slipped from your mouth. He truly adored you. “So good for me..” he said between kisses. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make this pussy mine.”

You made direct eye contact with him, shaking your head. “P-Please.. make me yours, Hanma.” you begged, brushing your fingers against his cheeks.

The sound of your pretty voice begging him to be filled only encouraged him to keep at it. He could feel his own orgasm creeping upon him. The pit in his stomach only grew larger. He could also feel his cock twitching inside of you, giving him the notice that he was close. He was gonna give you all he had. That’s what you deserved.

Grunting, Hanma’s hand went on one side of the pillow. He trailed the hand tattooed with ‘Punishment’ down your chest and towards your abdomen. Goosebumps appeared on your delicate skin from how his touch felt. You could feel the overstimulation taking over, turning your moans into whimpers and whines. It was like music to his ears. “Fuck.. I’m gonna cum..” he said, looking deep into your pretty eyes.

“Cum inside me.. Hanma!” you moaned, letting your mouth fall open.

After a few erratic thrusts, Hanma groaned deeply as he reached his high. Thick, white cum painted your insides, filling your womb. You couldn’t help but whimper from how warm it felt inside of your cunt. He practically emptied his balls inside of you.

Panting, he lied down beside you. He made sure to keep his cock nice and snug inside of you so none of his cum slipped out and made a mess. He didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of that kind of clean up. He then reached over, pulling your body against his. The two of you were both sweating and the room was hot. You didn’t think you’d ever have this chance, but you didn’t have a single regret about the whole thing.

“Do you.. think he heard us?” you asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Hanma glanced down at you, brushing his hands against your waist. He smirked. “Probably.. but I could care less.” he replied. “We had a good time.. I think that’s all that mattered to me.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his chest. Maybe fucking your older brothers best friend had its perks. Maybe.. this could be your dirty secret.

tagging: @chaileaf <3 love u

#summer speaks #smutty talks #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers smut #hanma shuji #hanma #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #hanma shuji x y/n #hanma x you #hanma x reader #hanma x y/n #hanma shuji smut #hanma smut #anime fanfiction #anime fanfic

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thewriterg · 7 months

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.4

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; holding out, threats, and a thumping tail

word count; 2.4k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: thank you all so much for 1.9k it means everything under the sun to me!

Your view is slightly perched from the position you’re in on Price's back, legs wrapped around his torso. You have an arm wrapped around his neck, applying no real pressure on his airway. The palms of your captain and fellow lieutenant are pressed against each other trying to over power the opposite. Ghost dressed in a sleeveless hoodie that allowed you to see his hulking scarred arms, gray cargos you'd only seen him in a handful of times, and a black balaclava with his trademark painted on the front.

“You two holdin’ out on me?” The brunette smirks teasingly his full beard adorning his face, shoulders slightly shaking in response to the pressure being applied against them. The dragon and the wraith are practically nose to nose with one another and both you and Simon have your own responses to the question

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.”

“Don’t want you pulling anything, old man.”

John huffs out a laugh and averts his eyes over his shoulder at you for a second and it’s all the time Ghost needed to throw a kick to his lower abdomen. The brunette throws you off his back with the flap of his stray wing while you take the opportunity to swiftly slither yourself between his legs back on your feet in a snap next to the blonde's side.

Your eyes slightly widen when your captain goes to open his mouth and before his languishing flames can reach your body, shadows make a mock wall In front of you blocking your figure from the heat. The wraith can feel you take a hold of his shadows, a sense of familiarity falling over his underwhelming sense of adrenaline. You’re soon taking your wrist and yanking it down as if pulling on a lever. Neither Price or Ghost were aware of what you’d done until the brunette was falling towards the padded rink floor. You’d had one of the blonde’s Infamous shadows wrapped around Price's ankle covered by his steel toe boots, the smoky black littered with electrifying orange and yellow sparks. The dragon’s bottom breaks his fall and he goes down with a grunt before settling his eyes on the two of you.

"Well now, aren't you two a sight? " Prices gruff voice falls over the empty gym, a flirty underline to it that was somewhat difficult to catch from the older man unless you’ve heard it multiple times before. You and Simon stand next to each other's usual balaclavas that rested on your faces absent. The wraith has shadows crawling up his bare arms resembling veins all too accurate. His eyes aren’t quite pitch black but a dark gray blending in well with his eye black, while smoke floats from the slits of his eyes past his temples. Your frame on the other hand has altered just as much however not at such an intensity. Your eyes are light reddish orange, there's cracks running up your arms and the back of your hands like a shattered porcelain doll, a glowing yellow orange burning through them each individually. Your face matches your arms, those cracks spreading from your temples to your cheekbones and from your forehead to above your brow engraved like lightning streaks.

“Yeah, real head turners.” Ghost huffed sarcastically, helping Price up off his position from the mat. The dragon grunted at the quick change in position and patted the wraith on the back with gleaming eyes and a quirk of his lips

“That’s for damn sure” The two begin to exit the rink seeing you happen to be steps ahead. You're dressed similarly to them both with: camo cargo pants, steel toe boots, and a forest green tank top. The sight was close to heavenly and by the others' faces the men could tell the other was not so joyful you had covered yours.

💌💌💌💌

“Missed seeing you in action, Captain.” The lieutenant hummed lowly in the back of his throat even though it sounded more like a grunt passing John a cold thermos of water. It was the closest the hybrid would get to a ‘I missed you, I missed being around you, and stop having so much damn paperwork even though it’s your job.’ And the Captain took it all without complaint while the solider took a seat next to him.

“Trust me, I hate being chained to the desk as much as you do” He responded sipping on the water with a sigh of contentment, watching as you stretched in front of them. Your legs are stretched as far as you can get them beside you hips, you have you stomach pressed to the ground with your arms stretched flat in front of you, while your tank top is slowly rising up your lower back showing the peak of a deep yet healed scar going up your spinal cord, and Price finally looks away at the sight of it.

“How's the shoulder old man?” You question when you're finally off the ground, watching Ghosts mask arch in your peripheral indicating that there was a quirk at his lips. You thought it was even more humorous how John responded without a bat of an eye.

“Tight but that’s nothing new” He grunts, leaning slightly towards the side his stray wing was on with a hand thrown over his hip.

“You two have been interlocking shadows and cosmic energy more often” The captain notes taking more water from the chilled thermos while you and your fellow peer lock eyes for a split second before they strayed away. You’re already taking a sip of your water bottle leaving the skull masked man to answer the question himself.

“Mm, in a good patch.” The blonde answered simply and you couldn’t expect any more from him, it could’ve made you chuckle if you weren’t also roped into the equation.

“Got anything to do with our newest recruit?” The brunette smirks, steam coming from his lips previous fire dying out with a ‘fssssss’.

“What!?”

“I’m not stupid and you’ve always been a dog person Simon” The dragon waved him away with a pale clawed hand, the steam from his mouth spreading in the process. The wraith had thrown a hand over his head staring down at his lap.

“Fuck me, Price, don’t put it like that.”

“I ignore the mutt's existence as a whole actually and I like birds more.” You fight back a roll of your eyes, arms crossed over your chest while your captain slightly grins.

“You love a chase Deity, we all had to go through it at one point.” He grins at you, blue eyes twinkling as you avert your gaze to the now interesting wall while the man dug into his duffel bag.

“Here’s hoping you both keep those opinions, yeah?” The captain held out a file for either of you to take which you’d grabbed first, going to sit in between the two men to give Ghost a view over your shoulder.

“New transfers?”

“Temporary ones. International corps are sending us two of their attack dogs and a python. They’ve been tracking a bogey for months who’s recently made themselves known on our turf. They’re asking to work together.”

“They’re asking to work together? Got us doing their jobs for them with this request for preliminary recon” The wraith merely huffs out, while the dragon began to take a stand from his seat, his brown eyes low peeking through his mask. If unamused was a person he wouldn’t be too far off.

“Just to prepare for their arrival. Shouldn’t be an issue, make sure it isn’t.” The brunette softly grins out, an order. Hes holding the wraiths chin tilting it up slightly in his clawed pale hand while his thick pear green take swayed idly behind the back of knees before his heavy boots began to take him away. The masked lieutenant acts quickly, stretching a hand to reach over to the captains.

“Soap he’s… he’s not gonna change this” The statement falls off his lips like a prayer. His hooded eyes rest lowly with eye black covering the surface around them. Price slight grins before resounding a moment of silence having passed by.

“You don’t need to promise me anything, Simon. I'm your captain, I’ll be here either way.” He grabs ahold of your forearm gently tugging you to his side while stepping in front of the blonde, the writhing having to crane his neck up to see you both in response to you standing before him.

“And I wouldn’t mind if he did. My boys taking of each other when we can’t, a dream come true” Price nods to his side where you stand, eyes flickering between bloodshot red and their normal color.

“Dirty.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” You roll your eyes playfully, —only to their eyes did it seem that way— your thumb rubs against the stubble on his cheek having hiked up his balaclava to his slightly crooked nose. Your eyes don’t stray away from his brown ones, his pupils are slightly blown. Your own orbs are still shifting shades while you stare down the hulking wraith with uncertainty, it would be the first time since…

The blonde shifted his head slightly giving you better access to his jugular, eyes raking over the horned brunette in front of him. It happens all too quickly fangs are scraping against his pulse point and lips are being smashed against his. John swallows the deep hum from Simon when your teeth pierce through the skin of his neck, one of your hands on the nape of his neck and a clawed pale hand that didn’t belong to you sat against his jawline. Your knee that was against the bench now creates friction through the thick fabric of Ghost’s cargo pants right above his growing cock. The lieutenant lets out a broken moan combined with a grunt at the sudden motion that you can hear past his and Prices sealed lips before you’re pulling away.

“Got hybrids today, maybe you could stop by if your dog doesn’t turn you into a treat.” You hum rubbing a finger over the corner of your lips where stray blood had slipped before taking it in between your teeth and walking out of the training room ignoring the faint sounds of your superiors chuckle.

“You think she’ll get over it?” The blonde questioned standing from his seat with a crack of his back, eyes nots quite slipping from your retreating figure. —the sway of your hips to be exact— The brunette huffs out a chuckle slinging his bag over his shoulder before responding.

“When you think about it she’s approved a lot with him, especially since the med wing. Not a threat to her home anymore, just a threat to her people.” The one winged hybrid hummed out, the itch for a smoke growing more prominent the more time had passed.

“By people you mean us… but come on Price, Deity knows she has us” The dragons grin had yet to leave his face, arms thrown across his broad chest.

“We know we had her when she toyed with that one tall lad, König was it? She's just smelling him out Simon. Phoenixs are territorial, pretty sure the ‘threat’ will be gone soon enough. Hell he follows ‘er around like a lost pup anyhow… Tell you what, bet you a twenty he’ll be marked in the next month” With a pat on the shoulder Price left the room without another word, trailing along to the comfort of his office leaving Ghost to himself.

💌💌💌💌

You enjoyed the evenings right outside of base. It wasn’t too warm where your skin was being cooked to a crisp under the sun and not too cold to need anything other than a thin jacket at most. It was also the time where you could get a pocket of peace, where you didn’t have to listen to ‘lieutenant, lieutenant, lieutenant’. A scheduled area away from the comfort of your office where little to no one knew about? Perfect for you… until it wasn’t.

Your visitor couldn’t seem to the memo of temporary peace. All of a sudden instead of the sound of chirping crickets and flickers of fireflies, all you could focus on was the faint sound of the beat blaring through your sergeants headphones. Your cigarette softly crackles as you inhale the smoke from it, the smoke falling over the jacket that wasn’t actually yours. All you wanted was to finish your paperwork in peace and here comes this little mu-

You wanted to groan at the repeated tap on your thigh.

“… Soap” You call out with a huff in your voice, turning your head slightly to look over your shoulder to see the back side of the Scott who seemed blissfully unaware of his… surroundings

“Soap.” You call again his thick, bushy, tail swinging back and forth hitting your thigh with a ‘thump’. You stare at him for a while before standing, snatching the fur rod in your grasp with an underlying firmness.

“Mactavish.” The motion makes the hybrid jerk in his seat leaning forward slightly, dropping his files and pen in the process. You notice the tight looking collar around his neck that you couldn’t imagine having around your own but decide against speaking about it.

“Uh - L.T?” The wolf looks almost bashful when he turns to meet you gaze, your eyes low yet sharp and it reminds him of the day you met —if you could call it that—. The brunette was sure you could see the warmth spreading across his face, it would take a blind man not to.

“Your tail is whacking me.” Soap liked to think of himself as a pretty observant person and now he couldn’t tell if you wanted him in your bed or in a grave.

“It’s uh, g-got a mind of his own” Johnny stuttered out trying to not to fumble over his words. He runs a hand over the nape of his neck, persistent on keeping his eyes on yours and not the grasp you had on his tail.

“Well real it in or I will.” You finally let go of his tush, barely looking at him through the peripheral of your vision before taking your seat. The Mohawked stud takes a hold of his trim with his pants a little tighter then what they were a few moments ago, the thought of finishing his papers completely gone.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now that everyone’s got their screen time I can’t WAIT to write for my baby gaz🤭

I hate my writing this Chp but what can you do?🙂

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