#my tiny brain is just INFECTED with him

[dbphantom]

Hmmm lungs and throat pain. Don't like that.

[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere! Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dark Themes, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Miguel is a warning on his own, spying, peeping, camera use, masturbation (m)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Enjoy my brain rot I now infect you all I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin

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Pt. 1

You weren't sure if it was your luck, or your resume that landed you probably the easiest, most well-paying job you've ever worked. But man, were you glad whatever did get it, got it for you.

Little did you know, it was neither.

The truth is... your boss, Miguel O'Hara, noticed when you emailed it to him. Something about the pictures attached stirred something up inside him.

Maybe it was the soft, Mona Lisa-like smile in your photos, or maybe it was something else entirely. He himself didn't know it, the reason why you immediately piqued his interest.

Sure, he's hired female employees before, one or two housekeepers. They were always buxom girls looking for the whole "boss having sex with his hot maid" cliché. One even tried to trick him with a false pregnancy test, just for him to call her out with a body scan right then and there.

And yeah... he almost always wound up fucking them. But that was it. They were good, warm holes to fuck, that was all. Fuck them until he got bored with them, and toss them out; that's what he would do.

Hell, some of them weren't even good fucks... He'd had better sex from random women he brought home from clubs.

Thank god for non-disclosure contracts.

But you... He had a feeling you would last longer than all of them. There was something about you.

And whatever it was, when he met you for the first time in person in that tiny café, was absolutely intoxicating. Your scent, your voice, the way your eyelashes batted your cheeks, even the shy shuffle of one foot behind the other as you spoke with him.

He could already imagine himself splitting you open with his cock, right then and there. Making you gasp, and scream and writhe and beg him to show some mercy at how he would pummel that sweet little cunt of yours; showing everyone there that you now belonged to him.

But patience is a virtue, and good things come to those who wait.

And Miguel O'Hara always got what he wanted, in the end.

It was just a matter of waiting.

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"I just have to say that, I... It's very generous of you to offer me a room to stay in, Mr O'Hara." You say as he leads you down the hall.

"I really can't thank you enough."

He sucked in an imperceptible breath at your little smile and twinkling eyes as you rocked your head back to look up at him and meet his red-brown ones.

He flashed a smile, charming. His teeth were crooked in some places, but for some reason it put you a bit at ease. Despite his sheer size, Miguel looked... Normal. Drop dead gorgeous "normal", but still. It made him... more relatable to know someone like him wouldn't immediately run to a dentist to fix his teeth to project an image of perfection. That he wouldn't give in to vain appearances.

"Of course. You don't have to thank me at all." He said, leading you down the hall of his impossibly large house--no, mansion--to where you would be living.

"All my previous maids have been given their own spaces to live in, it's easier on them so they don't have to worry about arriving late, or paying for taxis or finding their own ways to work." He replied casually.

"Oh, actually, I'm curious about that. I haven't seen other staff around here, why is that?" You chirp innocently.

"Ah, well..." He said, giving a strained smile. He had to think of something. Fast. He couldn't possibly tell you the real reasons why. Maybe.

Yet.

"They simply didn't work out. Many of them didn't follow direction well and were constantly challenging my authority."

You frown, your brows furrowed. "Okay, arguing with your boss sounds kind of... Dumb."

"Indeed." He chuckled, his voice a deep timbre that you swear sent shivers right through your very bones.

"And as for why you are currently my own employee? Well. I do like my privacy." He tells you.

God, the smell of your perfume and the way your lips sparkled from that lip gloss...

"Ahem. Technically, the only other person you'll be seeing is Lyla."

"Lyla?" You echoed.

"Yes. She's my... assistant. Artificial intelligence. Don't let her snark fool you, she's not so bad once you get to know her." He smirked.

He could hear your pulse quicken whenever he smiled.

"Oh! An AI? I've... I've never actually met one. Like a literal one, not the ones they program into taxis..."

"No, she's far more sophisticated than that. Expertly programmed by me, smart... And of course there's the sense of humor, I don't know where she got that... But she won't bother you often." He assured you.

"Oh! Of course..."

"Now, here's your room." He gave you a grin over his shoulder as he reached for the control panel of the double doors. He could hear your heart pitter patter already.

The doors opened with a dramatic whoosh, and Miguel stepped aside for you to walk in.

He felt a smug sense of pride at your shock of the huge room he'd given you for your own personal space, and how you'd murmured that it was larger than your whole apartment.

Luxuriously furnished, it looked more like some kind of... Of ten-star hotel room or something!

The way your eyes sparkled and your mouth parted in a soft, excited smile. Everything about you had his heightened senses on alert, but not in a bad way.

You looked so soft. So delicious. Something about you made him want to devour you, bit by tiny bit.

"Mr. O'Hara, I... Oh I can't thank you enough! This is..."

"I'll leave you to it." He chuckled, giving a wave as he walked past you back out into the hall.

Pausing in the doorway, he gave you one last look.

"And you can call me Miguel... Pequeña ave."

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

He simply couldn't wait and had to violently suppress the urge to drop to all fours and leap like an animal to his office and check the well-hidden, practically invisible cameras he had planted in your room and bathroom.

The moment he entered his office, he locked the door and turned Lyla's access to the room off to leave him to his privacy in case she called him.

Miguel felt a buzzing beneath his skin at the thought of what you could possibly do once you've fallen into a sense of safety and privacy, especially since he'd given you permission to have a few days to become acclimated to your new environment before you had to start work.

He sat on his chair and immediately opened up the files on his monitor, selecting the camera feeds until holograms of you at various angles were projected for him to see.

He watched intently as you unpacked your clothes, placing them in the large ornate dresser.

He already made a mental note to hire movers to bring the rest of your meager belongings to his house.

Yes. Yes.

You would stay.

For as long as he wanted you. And right now he could see himself wanting you for a very, very long time.

The moment you flopped on the bed, your breasts jiggling so beautifully to him, the cute look of surprise as you sunk so deep into the downy mattress before settling in with a relaxed groan that sounded so pornographic to his ears it sent blood rushing straight to his dick.

He leaned back, running his tongue over his fangs as he continued to watch you unwind and unpack, careful not to prick the sensitive muscle on the sharp bone.

He watched you pull a small black box out of one of your suitcases and hastily move to hide it beneath your clothes in your dresser.

Bottom row, far left side, all the way to the back. He made a mental note to inspect that drawer later.

Miguel leaned in towards the projections and tapped the one of you nearest to your new closet as you slipped your blouse off and down your shoulders, revealing your back and the straps of your bra.

The leather creaked under his weight as he shifted, switching the angle to the one directly above the closet, facing down, getting a full downward view of your breasts.

He groaned and reached down to palm at his cock that throbbed in his trousers, stroking the clothed flesh in languid motions, vein beating relentlessly along the length.

He let out a guttural groan when you bent over, slipping your shoes off and placing them on the rack within the closet.

He switched angles as you bent over again and pulled your pants off, revealing your cute ass peeking out from the cotton, cherry-print panties you wore.

He ripped his trousers down to his thighs and fisted his cock in his large hand. He was disappointed you didn't notice he went without boxers today, or maybe you had but were too shy to look.

You were putting on quite the show.

Surely, you couldn't be this naive, right? So innocent? You couldn't just believe some rich man would let you, a cute, sexy little thing live in his house without planting cameras in your room and bathroom?

You must know. You must simply know, and that is why you are sashaying your hips this way and that as you dump your clothes into the laundry bin and grab the vinyl bag containing your hygiene products.

He used his thumb to smear the stream of precum leaking viscously from the head of his cock, groaning as he switched the feed to your bathroom cameras.

He watched you place your pads and tampons in one of the drawers of the vanity, organize your oral hygiene products next to the sink. He studied each bottle of vitamins you placed, his eyes picking up the words "prenatal" on one.

He dropped his head back with a groan and rolled his hips, languidly stroking his dick as his eyes rolled back.

Prenatals. You weren't pregnant, he'd be able to smell it if you were. But already the thought of fucking you full of his cum played in his mind.

His head snapped up when he heard the shower turn on and he frantically switched the feed to the shower cam.

He watched and listened as you hummed a little song to yourself, giggling at the rainfall-like streams that filled the stall.

The way your lips parted and you made that little "oooh" sound had him wondering how you'd sound when he fucked you so hard your eyes crossed.

He began to pump his fist harder, the rivulets of precum giving him ample lubrication to stroke himself.

He ran a hand through his hair as he panted, watching you as you slowly slip your bra off and toss it to the floor, along with your panties.

His hand smashed the control after to change the camera to one that had a better angle of you.

He made a sound that was almost a whimper as you closed the stall door, stepping under the steamy water with a happy and content sigh.

Miguel bit at his bottom lip, fangs threatening to prick the plush skin.

Everything about you was cute and sexy, even that cute little patch of hair between your legs, cut into the shape of a heart.

The thought of lasering that hair off and replacing it with a permanent tattoo of his spider symbol... His own little brand...

He moaned loudly into the dark of his office, feeling his balls draw taut as his orgasm got closer.

Your hands lathered in shampoo, you started scrubbing your hair, your flesh jiggling deliciously as you rinse it out, nails scratching at your scalp.

He wondered what you'd do if he pulled your hair, what sounds you'd make.

He wondered how you'd do if he pulled your hair and made you choke on his cock.

"Mierda!" He hissed, pinching the base of his cock in an effort to stave off his orgasm.

Miguel continued to watch, giving himself teasing strokes as you conditioned your hair right after.

His fist pumped harder and faster when you began soaping up your hands to scrub your skin, cupping your breasts and brushing over your hard nipples.

His breathing was so fast he was practically hyperventilating, the tip of his cock leaking more and more, the length of it throbbing and twitching as you washed the soap off.

When you slipped your hands between your legs to clean yourself there, all Miguel could do was moan pornographically, grabbing at his balls and stroking his cock as he arched his hips off his chair, his thick ropes of cum painting his fingers and dripping down to his palm, splattering a part of his leg and the underside of his desk.

He dropped down, sighing as the buzz of his orgasm slowly faded.

He cut the feed to your room.

And in the dark, bright, ruby-red eyes opened and a fanged smile bloomed.

He was going to enjoy making you his.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Pt. 2: Link

[magicalbats]

Oh, Captain (Luffy x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5222

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, noncon, physical coercion, outdoor sex, inappropriate use of 5th Gear

A/N: My second ever commission and the lovely donor was kind enough to give me permission to post it for everyone else to read. Thank you for a great experience, @avidbroswer!! 🩷🩷🩷

⭐

Let’s help Luffy, they’d said.  

We’re a crew, they’d said. Family. 

You don’t feel very much like family when you’re running for your life from the very captain you’d sworn loyalty to. Or at least, you’re pretty sure that the strange figure with white nimbus cloud hair is your captain. You’d watched it happen from a (questionably) safe distance, when he suddenly transformed in a surge of sparking static electricity that made your skin crawl like it was trying to escape from your bones but it’s still hard to believe that it was really him. Even having seen the reality of it with your own two eyes doesn’t make it any easier to accept. 

Luffy was supposed to be a dark haired, dark eyed youth in the prime of his life. Not this uncanny version of him that giddily laughs with boisterous amusement while he ping pongs about so violently within the craggy mess of scorched earth in the wake of his battle with Kaido that you can feel the massive chunks of rock slamming into the ground as much as you can hear it. One after another, from the left and then the right, they just keep falling in an almost continuous rain of rubble and ruin. The resulting shockwaves very nearly take you off your feet more than once but you force yourself to keep running even when your sore legs scream in protest, aching from the exertion. It was the only choice you really had at this point. 

And it’s not lost on you that this is technically your own fault for getting so close to the fight but you’d wanted to help. All that talk of family and crew, and unwavering allegiance to the Straw Hats had clearly infected your brain because you’d rushed straight into the danger zone despite knowing good and well that you were the only one close enough to make it in time. Now you were the one who needed help and it wasn’t going to arrive soon enough to do you any good. 

What an idyllic fool you’d been. 

“Ah!” You suddenly get tripped up in all the rocky debris laying across the ground and fall to your knees with a seething hiss. Your palms come back scraped where they’d shot out to catch you but you’ve managed to avoid taking the brunt of it to the face. Thank the stars for life’s smallest miracles. 

Panting heavily, you just sit there amongst the broken wreckage and detritus for a harrowingly long beat, trying to catch your breath. You can still hear the chaotic destruction of Luffy — or the man who had once been Luffy — bouncing around like a rubber ball behind you, completely unimpeded by the laws of gravity or common sense. It sounded like he was having a blast. 

Maybe that was good. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed you yet, so lost within the mess of demolished land and too tiny a speck to even draw his attention. You had a chance to escape then, if that was the case. 

Any such hopes quickly fizzle out when his uproarious hooting and hollering abruptly rushes towards you, getting louder and louder until your eardrums start to vibrate. You suck in a sharp, nauseated gasp and slap your hands over your ears as you twist around to look behind you. Just in time to watch Luffy sail overhead like a shooting white comet. The kickback from his high velocity speed hits you seconds later, tearing a shriek from your mouth when the wind hits you full force and as solid as any wall. 

Too busy ducking down with your head between your knees to protect yourself from the sting of flying rocks, you don’t get to see how he manages to pivot his momentum mid air and land a couple hundred yards away. You hear it though. You feel the shock of impact too, when it races through the ground to make the rubble underneath you tremble. It goes quiet then, and unnaturally still. Suddenly all you can hear are your own labored gasps. 

You hesitate to do it but, realizing you have no other option, you slowly lift your face to peer out over all the fallen debris. Standing at a distance, Luffy just looks at you with a fiercely manic edge in his now golden-yellow eyes that makes your veins ice up. You’re more certain than ever that this cannot be your captain. He should have been giving you the usual bright faced, happy go lucky grin he always did when he inexplicably came out on top against all the odds that were stacked against him. Not this — viscous leer of victory. 

But if this wasn’t Luffy then who in the seven seas was it? 

“Have you come to celebrate with me?” 

His voice isn’t quite the same either. More raspy, like the weight of immense power flowing through him was putting strain even on his vocal cords. You don’t think you like that any more than you like the way he’s eyeing you up as if you were a stuffed pig on a roasting spit. Even for his bottomless pit of an appetite, you’d never seen him look at another person quite like that. 

Cautiously slow, you straighten up out of your defensive huddle. Work to get your feet under you without taking your attention off him for even a moment and then stand so you can prepare to … what, run again? A lot of good that had clearly done you. 

“I don’t think it’s time to celebrate just yet.” You tell him softly. “We need to find the other Straw Hats. Make sure they’re all okay. You still remember them … don’t you, Luffy?” 

Your emotional plea only succeeds in giving him a momentary pause. “But I have so much energy left. I just want to dance and shout, and jump into the air! You’ll join me, won’t you?” 

He takes a step towards you, a rather aggressive one at that, and you quickly back up. Something told you if you didn’t agree to go along with this he was going to try and force you into joining in on whatever constituted his idea of merrymaking. Unfortunately you weren’t sure if you’d survive that, given the state of all the crumbled boulders littering the ground on this now desolate stretch of land. 

“No, Luffy. Not right now. We have to - -“ 

With an abrupt jerk, he lurches forward as if to launch himself at you. His rubbery legs momentarily struggle for traction on the ground, as if they couldn’t quite decide what consistency they wanted to be, but you don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Feeling like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, you spin around and make a mad dash for it, barreling straight into a dead sprint. 

It’s a resounding effort in futility. 

You don’t even make it three whole steps before he slams into your back hard enough to take you right off your feet. 

There’s a split second moment of shock at how fast he’d managed to close the distance, and then the ground is rushing up at your face again. 

That dizzying blur of vertigo inducing free fall coupled with the way your vision tilts on its axis very nearly has you spewing your guts right then and there. But if Luffy picks up on the dire, sickened tinge coloring your wounded grunt he certainly doesn’t act it. He just flings his arms around your middle, alarming in their fleshy elasticity and yet still familiar to you, then hauls you up against his front before you can slam into the rocks. 

Everything happens much too fast for you to keep up with any of it. Your brain is reeling, still trying to recover from the impact of his body colliding with yours and the subsequent head rush that followed. So stunned you can’t even find the wherewithal to protest his treatment of you let alone try to fight your way free. Unable to do anything else, you simply allow your limbs to bonelessly flail when he takes a handful of eager steps forward with you in his arms. 

In the next moment Luffy spins you out away from him, snagging your wrist to stop your momentum and make you jerk to another abrupt standstill. The yank on your shoulder causes it to pop, splintering pain racing up your arm as you cry out. He doesn’t care though. He either doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice, because he just pulls you right back into him again, hard enough to make you collapse with a teeth rattling jolt against his chest. 

“Come on!” He laughs, loud and frenzied, his hold on you much too tight where it’s shackled around your wrist. “Dance with me! Aren’t you having fun?” 

Teeth gnashing to fight back the nausea, you bring your uncaptured hand up and brace it against his shuddering frame. You’re more than just a little surprised to find his heartbeat hammering out a sharp, almost violent staccato against his ribcage, so powerful you can feel it thrumming through his skin. It reminds you of an endless procession of war drums. Too many to count and impossibly loud, their ferocity equally intimidating and awe inspiring. 

What in the world had happened to him? 

You don’t have the privilege of lingering on that question for very long. Couldn’t afford to, as you try to get your tired legs situated under you again so you can stand on your own. “You’re hurting me, Luffy. We don’t have time for this right now. Just let me go. Please.” 

But he doesn’t even seem to register what you’re saying as a plea at all. 

A snickering, raspy laugh rattles up out of him, and you vehemently push at his narrow chest with your uncaptured hand. Shove him as hard as you can. He still doesn't budge though, simply reaching up to snag that wrist too so he can forcefully spin you around in his arms. You feel sick with the rush of motion coupled with the fatigue and throbbing pain in your body but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He’s too strong, too wild, too lost in whatever manic high he’s slipped into after his fight with Kaido. 

Tightening his grip to lock you against his front, Luffy moulds himself to the line of your back with such an unnatural, rubbery motion that you find yourself fighting not to wretch even as his mouth finds your neck. He nuzzles at you for a brief moment, just brushing his lips over your jackhammering pulse before angling his nose towards the spot just behind your ear. The breath he draws is slow and savory, and he seems to hold it in his lungs for an unnecessarily long time. 

When he at last sighs out, displacing some of the loose flyaways in your hair, an unmistakable rumble low in his chest accompanies it. “Mmm, you smell good. Like victory.” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Luffy, just listen to me … don’t do this. I - I don’t really understand what's happened to you but we can figure it out together. We’ll fix it. I promise. But you need to let me go or - -“

“Let you go? But we’re having so much fun. I want to have even more fun with you but you’re not a fighter, not like he was. And you don’t want to dance with me either.”

He sounds dangerously close to pouting when he says that last bit and you give a halfhearted twist in his hold, testing for any slack. It’s no good though. For as little effort as he seemed to be putting into it, his arms were like iron shackles where they’re criss crossed over your body. Dammit. 

“Why?” You seethe in frustration and fast mounting panic. “Why won’t you just go back to normal, Luffy? This isn’t like you!” 

His frame shakes behind you with the giggles that rise within him, making his whole body vibrate like a mercilessly shaken soda bottle. It quickly grows, rapidly multiplying and expanding until he at last throws his head back with a cackling peel of laughter aimed up at the sky. It’s much too close to your ear and deafeningly loud, reigniting your desperation to get away from him, but your wild thrashing just causes him to laugh even harder. Like he found it hilarious that you were scared and trapped against him. 

“I can’t!” He howls, belly laughing so ferociously it makes you jerk in his hold. “I can’t go back until I’ve used up all of this energy! It feels like I’m going crazy but it feels good too! Amazing even! I’ve never experienced anything like it before! I want to keep going but you can’t fight and you won’t dance with me … but there’s something else we can do together, isn’t there?” 

“What are you ta - -“

He releases you so suddenly you don’t even realize you’re crumpling to the ground until your butt has already hit the rocks, surprising a yelp out of you. Fresh pain immediately races up from your backside in a blinding starburst and you outright hiss as you gingerly start to angle yourself onto your hip in hopes of taking some of the pressure off of where it hurts the most. You don’t quite make it that far though. 

Luffy’s hands are suddenly on your shoulders, shoving you forward to sprawl out rather inelegantly on your front. He follows you down, pinning you to the destroyed ground with his body weight, and you immediately start to panic in earnest. Your captain didn’t look like much more than a lanky beanpole at first glance but he was so densely packed with muscle that he felt like a sack of bricks on top of you. It makes it hard to breathe and the quickened, gasping lungfuls of air you suck in don’t exactly help. Your chest constricts painfully tight as you struggle against him, forgetting all logic and reason in your blind desperation to get away from him. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, still just as unbudging sprawled out over top of you as he’d been when the two of you were standing. No amount of kicking your legs or bucking up underneath him even gives him pause, and his greedy hands fumble down to your waist where they squeeze tight enough to rip a hurt shriek from your throat. This doesn’t cut through the manic haze spurring him on either. He doesn’t even waver. 

“What are you — stop that! Have you lost your mind!” 

“I’m sorry.” He snickers, not sounding very sorry at all as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck again. Another deep, savory inhale. Another rumbling exhale right against your pulse. The faintest growl that trails afterward is new though and you go painfully still under him, hardly even daring the blink despite all the grimy dust kicked up in your desperate fight for freedom. 

You’d never, ever heard such a sound come out of him before. It scares you perhaps most of all, and you’d seen many a frightening and unsettling thing since stepping foot into Onigashima. Somehow this just really took the cake though. 

“I’m sorry,” He says it again. Contradicting this, his callous worn fingers dip into the hem of your pants and start to tug at them, jostling you with each insistent pull. “I’m sorry, heheee. I just can’t help myself. If I can’t have you I don’t know what I’ll do. You’ll help me calm down, won’t you?” 

Your mind struggles to process that. He was asking you to help him? Not with words or medicine, or even the endless supply of food he would have otherwise asked for had he been in his right mind. He wanted your body. 

So that’s what it was then. What it all boiled down to. 

If he couldn’t fight you and you refused to dance with him then that left only one other option. He was going to fuck it out of his system. Anything to get rid of all the excess energy running through his body, making him vibrate like a lit fuse on top of you. It made a certain amount of sense, you supposed, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Curling your hands into tight fists against the rocks, numb to the abrasive sting, you draw a rattling breath to center yourself. It doesn’t do much in the way of good. “Please don’t do this.” 

It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, a grunt of victory puffing out of him when he finally manages to get your pants tugged down over the curve of your ass. 

“Please.” You gasp, the sound wet and faltering. 

Completely ignoring you now, Luffy reaches further down to fumble with something lower while his opposite hand possessively curls around your hip to keep you in place. You hiccup rather sadly at the distant sound of rustling clothes, almost completely lost under the violent pounding of blood in your ears, but there’s no missing the fleshy nudge against the back of your thigh that soon follows. It leaves a sticky smear where it touches you, inspiring an eruption of horrified goosebumps in its wake. 

You don’t have to look to know what’s touching you. The innate knowledge of what’s happening and who is responsible for this paralyzing fear that grips your aching heart in a chokehold is horrible and suffocating all at once. Stinging tears spring up and well in the backs of your eyes but you clench your teeth to try and stifle the terrified wail threatening to claw its way up your throat, knowing it would only sound hysterical. 

On one hand you almost couldn’t believe this was really happening, even though the reality of the situation was staring you right in the face. It just seemed almost too implausibly awful to be real. 

But on the other, Luffy wasn’t exactly known for his self control or restraint. You knew this. Had even found it charming at one point or another, so you brace yourself for the worst. It just might be the only thing that ends up saving you. 

“Captain - -“

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s suddenly between your legs, pressing up into you from behind. You go ramrod stiff against him, your whole body clenching in genuine distress, but it does very little to stop him. Like he’s done it a million times before, or perhaps thanks to the instinctive muscle memory bestowed upon every man with a working cock, he pushes right in on your entrance until cunt slips start to part under the pressure. A thin, tremulous groan escapes him at the first kiss of your hot guts against the tip and then he just keeps pushing. Even when your muscles tense up and try to keep him out. Even when he meets a great deal of resistance as your body tries its best to reject him. If anything he almost seems to take it as a challenge the same way he would another combatant or a roadblock standing between him and his goals. 

In this case his goal is clearly to sink himself in you right down to the hilt, and he just puts more effort into his cause the more you try to fight it. Leans his weight into you until it feels like your poor cunt is taking the full brunt of his mass. The resulting stretch of your inner sleeve is painful and drawn out, taking much longer than it otherwise would have had you been even slightly prepped for this. 

Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out for a prolonged moment as the tears break loose to streak down your face. It feels like he’s tearing you in half! Either he was much bigger than you’d assumed he’d be or by virtue of how tightly your interior walls were squeezing him — or even some terrible combination of the two —  it was like you were being split down the middle. You couldn’t even breathe through the choking discomfort of it and a threadbare, sobbing little mewl dislodges from your throat when he at last manages to shove himself past that first barrier. 

Full penetration is much easier for him to achieve after that but it’s no less painful, and you cry out when he snaps his hips forward once, twice, and finally lodges his length the rest of the way in on the third. A pleased huff slips out of him as he settles on top of you, a fresh wave of giggles quickly following suit. It was like he’d gone mad. So wrapped up in the raving power that had turned his hair white that he can only laugh about it even while he’s buried balls deep in your body. 

That short lived pause is all the respite you get though and Luffy is soon moving, rutting into you with quick, sharp little jabs up into your guts. You shriek at the top of your lungs, clawing at the ground while you kick out behind you, but he ignores this the same as everything else. Lying prone and trapped under him, all you can do is take it. 

“Waah — why are you doing this, Luffy? It hurts! If … if the others find out about this - -“ 

“I know, hahaaa. I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. You feel … this feels amazing! Almost as good as fighting Kaido did!” 

You seethe at that, trying your damndest not to get caught up on it right now but that proves to be more than a little difficult. He really didn’t see any difference between fucking and fighting? Somehow that seemed so typically him, and you think you would have probably joined him in laughing about it under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances wouldn’t have found you being roughly jostled back and forth on the ground by his eager, jack rabbit thrusts. The motion of his hips lacks any and all refinement with no technique to speak of, and yet that doesn’t stop you from seeing stars every time his cock blindly rams into your upper wall. It punches the air from your lungs and materializes out of your mouth in the form of heaving, strained bleats of distress that quickly climb to a higher and higher pitch with each second that goes by. Not for the first time today, you feel like you really might throw up. 

“Ooh, that’s …” He suddenly gasps, lets out a half strangled groan, and drives himself into you even harder. Faster. The force of his pelvis slapping against your upturned ass rapidly grows to a steady, almost constant blur of stinging swats — plap, plap, plap, plap — and you shriek at the rapidly swelling pressure on your gut. “Ooh, that’s good. That’s good! It feels so good! I - I can’t - -“ 

Without warning, your pussy abruptly floods with wet, sticky warmth. He hadn’t even given you a chance to beg for him to pull out. 

Your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates but he just keeps pistoning his hips even as the rest of his shuddering frame gives a series of little jerks to thoroughly empty his balls into you. He shows no signs of slowing down or tiring any time soon though, his limitless energy evidently far outpacing his obvious lack of experience. 

It’s a hard thing to wrap your reeling head around just how quickly everything has happened and yet there’s no mistaking it for what it is. The sensation is completely foreign to you but you innately understood it for what it represented, what it could potentially mean for your future. You’re not half as relieved to have it done and over with as you are terrified of what it meant. 

Even more confounding, however, is that it doesn’t so much as make Luffy slow down let alone stop now that he’s painted your inner sleeve a thick, creamy white. Not the orgasm itself which, considering how much he fills you up, should have thoroughly drained him for the time being, nor the possible repercussions of allowing himself to shoot off inside of you like that. He just keeps going without a care in the world, like it wasn’t his problem and he still had more than enough stamina to keep up the harried pace he’d settled into for the foreseeable future. The only sign of it burning up any of his energy at all is the slightly labored quality his breathing takes on, but that’s it. 

Realizing that this ordeal is still far from over, you give your body a twist and try to angle your cunt away from the constant attack of his cock. “H - hold on a minute, what … aagghhh, what are you doing, Luffy? You - - you can’t just cum inside like that, you idiot!” 

“Can’t stop! Heheehe, I can’t, I can’t, not when you keep squeezing me like that!” 

All but wheezing at the intense pleasure of thrusting into the sticky mess he’s made of you, Luffy presses himself flush against your sweaty back and circles his arms around your middle. You brace to shove him off, or at least try to, but you don’t quite make it that far. 

Catching you completely off guard, he yanks you up against him and practically throws himself back onto the ground. The sudden lurch lodges your stomach in your throat, and you let out a frazzled scream as you land on top of him. That he cushions the impact with his rubbery body only comes as a slight relief when you were struggling just to get your bearings straight, disoriented and stunned in the aftermath of his impulsive decision when you unexpectedly find yourself blinking up at the sky. 

You start to pull yourself upright, wincing, only to quickly realize he’s still got one arm looped around your waist to keep you held in place on top of him. The other is — you gasp when you glance down to see him already fisting his cock in hand, guiding it back to your entrance where it had slipped out in that rush of movement. It’s still achingly stiff and unrelenting, like he hadn’t already spilled his seed in you only moments ago, and your heart painfully wrenches with the fresh wave of dread that comes over you. 

“W - wait, please don’t - -“

The head of him finds your cunt, pressing back up into you again, and you outright sob when he mercilessly snaps his hips to impale you on that stiff length once more. You sway unsteadily at the fresh stretch, trying to decide if it’s better or worse in this position, but gravity soon proves itself your enemy when the weight of you on top of him firmly sinks his cock even further into you than before. It feels like he’s tickling at your ribcage like this, but all you can do is give a wounded little mewl and try to steady yourself. Undaunted, he reaches up to tug your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Luffy,” Sniffling sadly, you fight him as much as you can in your physically exhausted state but it’s no use. Your bottoms come off to leave you bare and exposed from the waist down, sitting upon his cock like a whore on her rightful throne. 

The tears quickly start up again, streaking hot tracks down your flushed, sweaty face while he gets himself situated underneath you. His hips lift, nudging you just a pinch higher so he can brace his feet underneath him while his hands come around to anchor around your love handles. Then, he’s moving again. 

Completely unconcerned by your crying, Luffy flexes his legs to thrust up into you and the same fleshy slap as before quickly rises loud in the air again. Plap, plap, plap, plap. The wet squelch of your seeded cunt sucking him in deep on every upward plunge joins in, adding to the obscene cacophony of noises even as you toss your head back to sob at the sky. You can hear him grunting underneath you, clearly enjoying himself quite a bit, but you couldn’t say the same. Your body was already a sore, achy mess of bruises and scrapes, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You were just getting more and more tired by the minute. 

“Nnghhnnn, please, captain. Please don’t cum inside again, I … I’m begging you!” 

The only response he gives is a low, rumbling groan that seems to bleed into you and reverberate endlessly inside your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together as if to block him out. But of course it doesn’t work. Given the way he stutters over a raspy hiss of your name he actually seems to like the way it makes your walls tighten around him, unintentionally though it may have been. There was really nothing you could have done to dissuade or stop him once he’d set his mind to something, and it seemed he very adamantly had his sights set on using your cunt until his energy reserves finally wore out. 

Distantly, you wonder how long that will actually take. 

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” He chants underneath you, again and again, even when his hands tighten around your hips to guide you into bouncing right along with him. Having no other choice, you snifflingly spread your legs wide and brace your feet on the ground, moving with him despite the throbbing ache in your muscles. “Mine, mine, mine. My prize. My treasure. My woman!” 

He viciously slams his pelvis up at the end, further punctuating his claim on you, and the sharp stab of his cock rips a wild shriek from your mouth. “N - no, captain, please! I can’t — I don’t want it! Not like this! You’re not … aaghnn, you’re not Luffy! You’re not!” 

The only response he gives is a deranged little laugh that makes his cock jump where it’s wedged inside you. That push on your upper wall makes the tension running through you double and then triple, your heaving gasps coming a little quicker now even as his hands travel up your body. You can’t stop him like this when your own were propped behind you along his flexing stomach to help you maintain your balance in this precarious position. It’s not hard to figure out what his intentions are though, and you screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch him grab hold of your top. 

A deafening riiiip tears through the air when he shreds it, the poor cotton helpless before his far greater strength. He leaves it hanging from your shoulders in tattered pieces as your tits bounce free, the stiffened tips already aching and strained long before he greedily palms at them like a starved man clutching at a lifeline. The blinding friction of his calloused palms and fingers on your teats makes your cunt spasm around him and you wail, screaming for someone, anyone to save you from your captain. 

Unfortunately for you, help was still a long ways off and Luffy wasn’t even close to running out of steam.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[storm-angel989]

How the vees would react to Valentino teenage daughter getting piercings without their consent and even try to hide them? I'm thinking about Tracy from Thirteen while requesting this btw🙏

(thanks if you write it💞💞

Hi there,

I’m afraid I haven’t seen that movie- so this is what my brain came up with! I hope you like it!

<3 Mandy 

The painful throbbing in my earlobes was too much to ignore. Every shift of my long hair, every brush against my swollen skin brought me to the point of tears. I made the executive decision to skip water polo practice, feigning a stomachache. I texted my coach, jumped in the limo and slipped as quietly as I could up into my room. Safe inside, I locked the door before gingerly pulling my hair back as I stood in front of the mirror. 

Two bright red ear lobes shone in my reflection, the skin inflamed to the point where the two tiny diamond studs could barely be seen. Two weeks ago, I begged my father and mother to let me get my ears pierced. My mother, to her credit, seemed to think I was ready for the responsibility. My father, on the other hand, disagreed.

“Just hold off for now, babydoll, and I’ll take you to a professional at some point. But for now, I don’t think mixing pool water with a fresh piercing in the middle of your competition season is a good idea.” 

As much as I tried. As much as I pointed out that three other girls on the team- including my best friend- had recently gotten their ears done, I was met with a firm no. The next day at school, I complained to my friend while standing at my locker when a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention away. Behind me stood a girl I recognized briefly from the softball team. 

“I can pierce your ears. Ten bucks,” she offered with a grin. “Good earrings too. You in?”

I glanced to my friend who shrugged. Before I could answer, the girl continued.

“Meet me in the locker room in the back corner after practice, if you’re interested.” She continued before vanishing off into the crowd.

Against my better judgment, and joined by my friend, I ventured into the back of the locker room that evening after practice. A quick transfer of funds and two sharp pinches and I had two shining diamonds in my ears. My friend suggested keeping my hair down until they were healed enough for me to take the studs out. 

Now I wished I had listened to my father. I gingerly touched the hot skin and bright yellow liquid oozed out. My whole body hurt, and if I didn’t get this fixed soon, I wouldn’t be able to play in the game on Saturday. 

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I pulled my scrunchie out and let my hair cascade down just as the door opened. 

“Hey, sweetheart, it's Dad,” I heard my fathers voice say softly. “I got a call from your coach. Not feeling so great, huh?” 

“You can come in Daddy,” I replied glumly. “Yeah, not feeling so great.”

Watching his tall form move across the floor, I was doubly glad that this man was my dad. The rest of the world recognized him as the overlord of lust and depravity, and as scary as he could be when he was mad, I knew he loved me. 

“What hurts?” He asked as he laid a cool hand against my forehead. “You feel warm, baby. Why don’t we get you to bed?” 

“Daddy, I have to tell you something,” I replied nervously. “I…” I pulled back my hair to reveal my ears, wincing as I did, “pierced my ears at school. Please don’t be mad.”

Alarm spread across his features. “You did not.” 

I nodded and he leaned forward. I braced for the yelling, the screaming and the anger I had heard him throw at his employees. 

To my surprise, he sighed.

“Well, those look infected. Explains why you don’t feel so good. Come on baby, let’s get you a doctor and have him take a look.” 

“Wait, you’re not mad?” I asked as I stood up and followed him out the door.

“I’m disappointed. But we can talk about that after we make sure you don’t have some sort of serious infection. Tell me, where did you get them done?”

His lack of fury took me by surprise. I relayed the story as we stepped onto the elevator. A pained expression crossed his face.

“You…just let her pierce your ears? For ten dollars? Eres jodidamente estúpida, ninita?” He asked, frustration dripping from his voice. “Honey, I taught you better than that. I know I did.”

The door opened and I trailed behind him with my head down as I followed him to the nurses office in his studio. Somehow, his disappointment towards me stung more than I thought the anger would. 

One painful hour later, the now bright green studs were in the garbage and my ears had been warm compressed, cleaned and I had been given a round of IV antibiotics.  I trudged behind my father as I walked into the apartment.

Velvette gave me a curious look. “Well? How’d that go?”

I closed my eyes as embarrassment flushed my features. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh no,” my father said quickly as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Go see your Aunt and Uncle. Tell them what you did.” 

I hung my head and mumbled out the story. To my surprise, Aunt Velvette laughed.

“Oh Valentino. Trust me, if that's the worst that reader does, you’re a lucky Dad. Stop being so hard on her.” She patted the cushion next to her and I sat down. She looked at my ears and smiled.

“I did something similar when I was your age. Don’t worry too much about it, it will heal.”

“But also learn a lesson from it? Like don’t let weird bathroom classmates pierce your ears,” Vox added. 

I crossed my arms and leaned back. 

My father walked over and bent over, brushed my hair back and planted a kiss on my forehead. “If you want to go to your room you can. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just love you mi amore, and you scared me. Learn a lesson from this, so next time you don’t need to be poked with another needle. And I will take you somewhere to get them done right next time, okay?” He stood up and pulled out his phone. “Can I convince you to stay out with us? I’ll order pizza.” 

“So, I’m not grounded?” I asked hopefully.

My father laughed. “Oh. No. You are. Until next Sunday. And you heard the doc- no pool time for at least two weeks.” 

I sank into the couch. Part of me wanted to be mad, but the other part of me knew my fathers punishment this time was totally and completely fair. 

“You’ll tell Mom then?” I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back. 

My father patted my head. “Oh no. No Noooo. You can do that when she gets home.” He patted my head. “Your decision. You learn from the consequences of your actions, babydoll.”

[libraford]

Have you shared the story of you joining the track team with us? I feel like you have but I can't remember any details.

I SHALL TELL YOU A TALE OF PURE FOLLY!

The year us 1999, I am in seventh grade. Like most seventh-graders, I hate everything that I am forced to do but I especially hate Pep Rallies. They are hell for my tiny little social outcast ADHD brain: loud noises, forced enjoyment of an activity, sports, pointless interaction with people I can't stand, and the potential for relentless bullying afterwards.

So we had a pep rally.

And I, for the first time in my rules-following life, decided to skip.

My class filed into the gym, I ducked into the bathroom, and waited for the sound of the doors closing.

Problem was that I didn't think I'd get this far and I've never been in the habit of delinquency, so I had no idea what to do next. I started wandering the halls just a little bit, testing out the freedom of having broken the rules, going down hallways that weren't part of my routine...

...when I heard dogs barking.

You see...

...the pep rallies weren't exactly about basketball. The pep rallies were an excuse to make lots of noise so no one heard the police dogs when they came looking for drugs in people's lockers.

And I am not where I'm supposed to be. I am where NO ONE is supposed to be. And I panic, because if I show up to the pep rally late they are going to notice.

I did not think this through.

So I start looking for somewhere to be while the police are searching for worse criminals than myself and I see a bunch of students in the cafeteria. One of them is a friend of mine, so I wouldn't be completely out of place in this location, so I came in and sat down next to her. A roster is being passed around and I sign it so that I can say that I was accounted for during the pep rally in some way.

The teacher who is heading whatever this is stands up in front of this group and says:

"Thank you for coming to the track and field tryouts. You've all made it in."

Uh...

...woops.

I think I'll just sit through this one meet and then quit. People do it all the time, I don't think anyone would notice.

Except that this is a small town and everyone knows everyone- so the teacher/coach helpfully informed my father that I'd joined the track team voluntarily and in no way was it a mistake of any kind.

My whole family is sports nuts. My dad was in charge of the sports page at the news paper, my mom will talk excitedly about college football, and my brother has excelled in every sport he's ever been in.

I'm a textbook case of Not That. Art student, lead violist, and the most exercise I get is dodging projectile rocks on my way home from school.

But my dad is SO proud of me when he hears about it. Lee is doing a Sport? A Sport that's physical? A Sport with a team? A SPORT!

Like... he bought me new shoes and stuff to clean the shoes with and all kinds of first aid stuff for my muscle pains and oh my god for the first time in his life I was in a SPORT!

(Just to emphasize- he has always been PROUD of me. He thought I was a genius because I showed him how to make chocolate dipped strawberries at home without a fondue pot like... he's pretty sure I'm going to save the world somehow. But this was the first time that I had ever shown even the smallest bit of interest in doing a Sport, which is HIS special interest and now we can BOND!)

So I try.

You know... I hate running.

I actually have a condition caused by a childhood illness that impacts cartilage development as well as asthma from a bronchial infection when I was in 5th grade.

But my dad came to all of the track meets that he could and I was so deep into the lie that quitting now would break him.

So I try my hand at non-running events: shot put and discus. I'd still have to run during practice, but I was allowed to go off and do Not Running for a little bit.

I can't remember the actual numbers or anything, but I remember that when I first did shot put with proper form, the coach kind of turned her head sideways and said 'damn.'

So turned out that being at the roly-poly stage of my larval development meant that I was still learning how my personal body chemistry affects the build of muscle. The answer is 'very quickly.'

It starts getting hard to find shirts that will fit my biceps and now I'm in trouble for wearing non-standard issue tank tops to school from practicing shot and discus.

If this were a movie, it would mean that suddenly being a jock meant that I had been accepted by my peers and something something Mean Girls something something. But no, because having incredible muscle as a thirteen year old did not do anything to disspell the rumors that I was a lesbian and unfortunately I was still bullied relentlessly. Nor did I ever throw a punch because I don't like hurting people and no one ever taught me how to fight. But it did mean that I had a handful of girls ready to use teeth and nails to defend the shot put champion.

Which is important because I was the ONLY shot put and discus thrower in the school.

And as I found out- the district.

I went almost an entire season without competing against a single person, winning the event by default.

Until the semi-finals.

And I did have to compete against an assortment of other thirteen year olds that were just now learning that they had upper body strength. But because they ALSO were the only ones competing in those events they had never competed against another person either.

So we all sucked.

I got gold in shot put. Bronze in discus. But to their credit there were only three competitors.

Huge fucking deal for my dad.

Not a huge deal for the rest of the track team, who all did really poorly in most events BUT throwing events, which meant that this was our last game of the season.

And so ended my short, accidental career as the middle school shot put champion.

"Did you try out again in 8th grade?"

Fuck no. I hate running.

[peachesofteal]

I got you

How did this happen? I don’t know. I’ve been watching my person play too much MW2, and then went looking for Ghost fics, so now my brain is infected.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley/female reader AO3 - Part one of the Sassy series 3.8k words - one shot Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Blood, violence, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, size difference/kink, creampie, hurt/comfort. Lots of swearing. Everyone is bad at feelings. Notes: EOD = Explosive Ordnance Disposal. He doesn't know your name. You've never seen his face.

It’s fucking hot. Belize is so hot. It’s the kind of hot that clings to every pore of your skin, the sweat slicking across your body until you’re shiny, breath coming in short pants because the air is so god damn thick. 

“Sassy. Do you copy.” Soap’s voice rings over the comms, snapping you to attention. Your fingers slip on the button. Belize would probably be better if this was a vacation, and not an Op. A gnat whines next your ear, and you press your chin into your shoulder. 

“I’m in position.” You whisper. “All clear.” An affirmative rings back as Price gives command to the others. You sit silent. Gaz spits something over the radio, but it's not directed at you, so it doesn’t register. You sit still. 

You always sit still. 

“You the demo expert?” The brunette with a Scottish accent and scarred chin looks you up and down.

“I’m a bomb tech.” you dead pan, eyes darting around the tent. There are only 3 others here. You were expecting a whole team. He chuckles. 

“Suicide squad. Nice.” Another man, rises from where he’s sitting a few yards away. You recognize him immediately. Price. 

“Sassy.” He extends his hand, and you grip it in yours. 

“Captain.” 

“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” You nod, managing to steal another look at the others. A younger guy sits on a table in the far corner, ball cap sitting on top of his head. A bigger man, broad, stands near an open flap, arms crossed across his chest, eyes watching you from behind the skull mask that’s pulled down his face. 

You do a double take. For a second, you think he’s Mace. Your heart pounds in your chest. Price is speaking, but you’re not hearing a word. Your fingers curl into a fist as you shake your memories loose and refocus. The man in the skull mask doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch in reaction to your odd behavior. 

That’s not Mace. 

So, it must be Ghost. 

“I’ve got two making entry, east side.” You whisper into the radio, watching the men push through the door. You’re nowhere near a clean shot. You curse. “Soap. Come in.” The line is silent, and unease pools in your gut. “Captain, do you copy.” You call, the words cutting into the air. What is going on? “SOAP.” The word is a hiss that’s met with uncomfortable silence. Fuck.

“Why does the Captain call ya Sassy?” Soap asks one night. You’re outside under the bug net, sitting on a picnic table with him. Ghost looms ten feet away, a barely touched bottle of beer looking tiny in his massive hand. You smirk at the question. 

“I’m a pain in the ass.” You say affectionately, lips curling into a smile. “But I’m also the best.” 

“You’ve gotta be next level crazy to run with EOD.” Soap tilts his beer to his lips, polishing the rest off with a burp. “’Scuse me.” He stands, he stumbles, he dips into the dark where he can’t be seen. You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down. 

“How long you been a bomb tech?” you whip your head around at the sound of Ghost’s voice, directed towards you. It nearly makes you stutter. 

“A few years.”

“That all you do?” The presumption shocks you. Private sector or not, these guys were all the same. If you’re a bomb tech, you must not be able to handle a gun. You whirl on him fully, taking two steps in his direction, your own glass bottle pointed in your hand. 

“The fuck did you just say to me?” 

He cocks his head. 

“Can you shoot, Sassy?” your upper lip trembles as it curls in disdain. 

“I can shoot your dick off if you’d like.” He’s still ten feet across the way, but you’re shaking with anger. You watch as the impression of the mask shifts, the bottom half of the skull moving with his lips. 

He’s fucking smiling at you. 

You’re about to let a stream of expletives fall from your mouth when Soap stumbles back under the net, face goofy and carefree. He draws your attention to a specific lightbulb, drunkenly mumbling something about its color that briefly distracts you. 

When you look back at Ghost, he’s gone. 

The men are setting charges against the exit door that the 141 is planning to use. “Damn it all to hell.” You curse, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making a beeline off the roof. “I’m vacating.” You huff into the comms. “Inspecting demo charges, east side. Does anyone copy?” The radio silence is freaking you out. The 141 is practically a machine, for Christ’s sake. Methodical, clinical, well-practiced. A small infiltration should have been a piece of cake. You’re scurrying down a ladder when the radio crackles. Your diaphragm heaves in relief. Ghost’s voice fills your ears. 

“Roger Sass. Keep me informed.” Me, not us. He’s slipping. 

The door wasn’t locked. 

The door wasn’t locked, and you really had to pee. These guys could piss in the yard, they could piss in a can, they could piss out the window of the truck for all you gave a shit. You needed a toilet. 

You shouldered through the door, eyes down until you felt it slam against solid mass. 

When you jerk your head up in confusion, all you see is black face paint and blonde eyelashes in the little mirror over the sink. The look in his eyes as he meets your gaze stuns you. 

Ghost. 

“Shit. Fuck.” You avert your gaze like you’ve seen him naked. Which is ridiculous, honestly. You didn’t even see the man’s whole face. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning on your heel. 

“You’re alright, Sass.” He steps away from the sink. “I’m finished.” You stand halfway in the doorway, halfway in the tiny bathroom. You’re not even sure it is tiny, to be honest. It just looks small compared to his giant frame. You eye his bare hand, foreign to you without the glove, and swallow. 

“Okay.” You turn to the side to give space for him to squeeze by you. He’s still wearing his tac gear, down to the tight-laced boots and vest. You already shed yours when you crossed the threshold of the tent, depositing it in the corner so you could breathe a bit. You shift when he passes, the roughness of his vest brushing against your thin sports bra and tank top. He’s looking down at you as he pauses in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side, brows lowered, eyes cataloguing your body. He lingers on the gash in your shoulder. 

“Get that cleaned up.” It’s an order. 

  You swallow, even though your mouth is well past dry. 

“I’m pushing towards the door.” You cross the street like a cat, slinking against the buildings and sticking to shadows. Soap chirps something over comms, but it’s too garbled to hear. You creep around the corner, ducking your head once to check for all clear before you’re crouched, walking slowly towards where you see the blinking charges. “I’ve got live explosives.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you whisper into the comms. “Repeat. Live charges on east door.” It’s Price that answers you, a gunshot echoing from two floors above. 

“Clear it, Sassy.” 

“Copy.” 

 “I knew a guy.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off, but your eyes dart between the three of them. 

“That wore a skull mask?” Gaz’s voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe. You nod. Ghost’s eyes watch you from the dark. They pin you down, marking your every move. You push it further.  

“His name was Mace. I ran in a private company with him for a minute.” Soap visibly shifts, body angling towards his LT. Ghost’s hand flexes on his thigh. The fidget confirms your suspicions. You sip the last of your beer and beam it towards the rim of the metal trashcan. “It was short lived.” 

They’re rudimentary. You’ve seen shit like this before, usually in IEDs, sometimes in homemade Semtex. You can practically hear your dad’s voice as you snip and pull wires. It’s like a dance. Watch your feet, or it’l go hot on ya. The lack of sophistication is laughable, and you’re pulling the first one off the door hinge in record time. You’re nearly congratulating yourself, all cocky and stupid, when you hear the telltale click of a gun. 

The end of a barrel presses to the back of your skull. 

“Don’t move.” You raise your hands slowly as the voice instructs you. “Turn around.” Your stomach bucks into your throat as you eye the man and his wild eyes. He looks desperate. Not good. “Those your guys up there?” He nods his head upwards. You stay still. You stay silent. 

It started as a drinking game. You’d lose a hand; you’d tell a truth. 

He’d lose a hand; he’d tell a truth. The half empty bottle of tequila lubricated you both, keeping you loose and easy, little pieces of your lives slipping your from lips without a care. 

“You know mine.” 

“Everyone knows yours, Simon.” You use it for affect. You can practically see him scowling under the mask. 

“That’s what I want Sass, you lost. You spill.” He turns away from you and swipes the bottle from the table, lifting the bottom of the mask to take a swig. You sigh.

“Not going to happen. Pick something else.” 

“Come on.. It’s just your name.” the gravel in his voice sends shivers across your skin. 

“And it’s just your face.” His head jerks back in surprise, and he puts the bottle down on the table unfolding his giant legs from underneath the picnic table. He’s leaving. “Oh, come on.” You call at his retreat, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back at you. 

“Well?” The man steps closer, and you eye the other charge that’s still live. You’re not good in these situations. You’re a bomb tech, not a people person. The gun barrel presses more firmly against your head. 

“Ye- yeah. They’re mine.” He leers at you. He’s not the same as the other two, the guys who planted these charges. He’s someone else. Your radio crackles. 

“Sass.” It’s Ghost. You close your eyes for a second and try to get a handle on yourself. You’ve been through way worse. Get it together. “Sass. You copy?” The man with the gun studies you for a second, before he’s reaching for your radio, ripping it from your tac vest as hard as he can. You watch as his finger presses on the comm button. You lunge, yelling in warning, hoping it makes it through the static. He spins, trying to dodge you but you reach for his gun, desperate to pull it from his hands before he can fire it. You hear shouting behind you, the heavy thud of familiar footsteps drawing closer as you wrestle over the weapon. You catch a glimpse of Ghost from the corner of your eye before the guy you’re fighting with is turning, barrel pointed right at your chest.  Shit. 

“How’d you get into bombs?” you laugh at the question, and then tilt your head and study him. 

“I like puzzles.” His eyes flick back and forth behind the mask, watching you as you watch him. You decide to test it. “My Dad can’t do a crossword, but he’s got a way with wires. Passed it down to me, I guess.” He nods knowingly. You don’t say anything further. The air between the two of you feels thick, and it’s not just the heat. 

“How’d you get into SAS?” he grunts. 

“I’ve got a way with guns.” 

Your eyes blink open slowly to the feel of your cheek being smashed against someone’s tac vest. The guys are shouting. An engine is roaring. Your abdomen is burning. 

“Shit.” You slur, vaguely aware that you’re sitting in someone’s lap, arms supporting your body as the truck careens around a corner. “Shot?” your mouth struggles to form the word and you look down to see a massive hand pressed against your ribcage. Ghost’s hand. Your own fingers crawl over his. They’re wet. Blood. 

“Don’t move, Sass.” His voice is low, and he only glances down at you for a second but you know. You can feel it in the way his palm presses into your wound. You can see it in the tick of his jaw. You groan. 

“Fucker shot me?” Your tongue weighs a million pounds. Gaz swears nervously next you on the seat. 

“You’re alright.” Ghost says, legs flexing as the truck takes another turn, trying to keep you from jostling too much. “You’ll be fine.” You nod your agreement. You feel thick fingers stroke through the hair at the crown of your head as you drift off, the world tinging to black around you. 

“LT doesn’t call you Sassy.” Johnny muses. You stretch your arms in the chair, twisting your back in hopes of cracking it a bit. 

“He doesn’t.” you confirm. It’s just Sass with Ghost. Always. 

“Why?” 

“Don’t know.” 

You wake again when you get back, your body still pressed the Ghost’s chest as he powers through camp, practically running towards the med tent. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, and at superspeed. You can’t see straight. The fire shooting in your nerves makes you want to gag. There’s someone else, walking next to you. They’re speaking in low tones to Ghost, and they brush their hand along your shoulder like they’re trying to grab you. He barks something at them, curling your body closer to his, and then you’re slipping away again, closing your eyes to fall into darkness. 

“Do you ever think about what’d you do, if you didn’t do this?” he shakes his head no, immediately. 

“You?” you drink a swig of water, holding the bottle out to him. His fingers wrap around yours as he takes it. 

“I think I’d like to work an office job. Something boring, you know. Uneventful.” 

“You wanna be bored, Sass?” You shrug, and step closer, your hips brushing between his spread legs. He blows a breath out through his nose. 

“I’m sure I could find a way to make it interesting.” You take another sip, letting a single drop slip from your bottom lip and down your throat. Ghost tracks it the entire way. 

He doesn’t really speak to anyone for days after you wake from surgery. And when you’re finally moving around, back with the team, he acts like he can’t see you.

It’s weeks later, when you sit next to him at the top of the stairs of the new safehouse you all moved to. The rest of the team is down in the living room, crowded around the smallest TV that Gaz rigged, watching a soccer game. 

“You good?” you ask and turn to him. He doesn’t respond, just stares at the peeling paint on the opposite wall. You reach out to him slowly, watching his eyes flicker in case it’s more than just, general brooding Simon. “Ghost?” 

“He put a bullet in your ribs.” Oh. Oh. 

“Shit happens.” You shrug and try to play it off. 

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” He turns to look right at you, something wild lurking beneath his skin. His hand shoots out and grips you by your collarbone, five fingers folding over it with ease. He could snap you in half. You swallow thickly. 

He jerks your torso, moving you like a ragdoll until he’s leaning down into your face. 

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” he says again, and you nod. His grip is strong, and his blatant contact with your body heats something alive between your legs. Something the two of you have been dancing around until this point. 

“Okay. Okay, Ghost. I got you.” You whisper. His ungloved hand comes up to press a thumb into your bottom lip, sliding it across the skin there. He’s wearing the mask, but you can see the blonde flutter of his eyelashes, eyes heavy as he regards you. You blink once, twice, before he’s hauling you up with both hands, wrapping an arm around your pliable body and pushing you into the shadow of the landing. For a moment, neither of you move, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he pushes you back against the wall, nose pressing into the curve of your jaw, fingers stroking the outside of your pants above your cunt. It stuns you, it thrills you, and you’re immediately trying to strategize how to get your hands inside his pants. He pats you softly and it’s not enough friction, so you push your hips towards him, fingers trying to loosen his belt. He grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. He’s staring at you differently, intensely, like he wants to pull you apart and put you back together. You gulp, and then he snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, down to the seam of your cunt. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and you bite down on your tongue as he strokes over your clit. Your body explodes with tiny little shocks, and you whimper, your lips pressing to the outside of the cloth stretched across his face.  “You’re wet.” His voice is rough.  “Y-yeah.” You stutter. “That’s what happens.” He growls.  “Your mouth” he thrusts a finger upwards inside you, forcing you to gasp. “is annoying.” You lean your head back against the wall give him an open-mouthed smirk.  “So shut me up then.” His head tilts, and something dark flashes across his eyes. You grin. 

He’s got your pants down around your ankles, your face pressed against the cool stone of the wall, and a hand up your shirt, fingers twisting one of your nipples as the other swirls the head of his cock through your wetness. 

“Fuck.” He growls above your ear, his cock breaching you, pushing steadily against your walls, slowly tearing you apart. Your cunt clenches around him, the burn of the stretch too good, and too much at the same time. His shoulders bear over yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back. 

“Ghost.” You whine, palms slapped against the wall. His free hand moves to cover your mouth.

“Hush. You can take it. Hold still.” You freeze because, well, Simon says. You shriek against his hand as his cock pushes into your cervix. He’s so big. It hurts. It feels so good. He thrusts, dragging his cock down and then up, over and over until you’re a teary mess, grunts and whimpers slipping out between the lips you’re trying to keep closed. He pauses, fingertips lightly brushing over where gauze is still wrapped around your body. “Good?” he whispers above your ear, and you nod frantically. 

So good. Too good. Don’t stop. 

He fucks into you slowly, working you open with a patience that surprises you. His breathing is harsh and unsteady, one arm bracing against you to hold your body in place, the other pressing against your cunt, his fingers finding your clit with ease. It’s too much, and your body jolts backwards, nestling your ass deeper in waiting space between his hips. He holds your there, rubbing circles around your clit and sliding his cock in and out of you, the sounds your bodies are making together probably way too loud considering the team is sitting just downstairs. His hand releases your mouth, and you shove your face against the wall, desperate to find some leverage. 

His lips press against the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips without the mask. Your eyes widen as you make the realization, your brain putting it together as you feel his teeth nibble into you, lips sucking blood to the surface of your pores so he can mark you. You can’t turn your head to look, and even if you wanted to, you don’t think you would. He doesn’t even know your name. He groans into your skin, the feeling of his unmasked jaw pressing against you is something you’re going to be holding onto long after Belize. He strokes your clit, pushing and pulling your body towards an orgasm, your walls clenching down on him as he ruts against you. 

“F-fuck, Sass. That’s it, good girl, that’s it. Come for me.” The praise electrifies you, and then you explode into a white-hot orgasm, coming with him lodged deep inside of you, his arm holding your twitching body against his. He fucks you through it, steadily, rushing after his own release, and he presses his nose into your hair as he whispers something unintelligible. Your orgasm is still lingering, every one of your nerves alive and on fire, and you’re a whimpering mess against him. The floor creaks under the steady movement of his hips, his body working yours relentlessly as he thrusts up into you until he’s coming, filling you up, shaking with your call sign on his lips. 

“So, you gonna let me see your face now?” you’re sitting out back on a half stack of bricks, passing a beer back and forth. He turns every time to adjust the mask when it’s his turn for a sip. 

“You gonna tell me your name?” you chew on your lip, and he nods, handing the bottle back to you as he stands. “I don’t need your name Sass. I’ve already got you.” His fingers stroke through your hair, the touch soothing and sweet, and you find yourself speechless. 

“You don’t have me.” You rebuff him indignantly. 

“That so? We’ll see.” He leaves you sitting outside with the beer, eyes staring daggers at his retreating back. It’s a different thing, to be had, to be known, in a world like this. You don’t know if you can do it. You don’t know if he can either. You glance through the screen door into the back of the house, where he stands leaned against a counter talking to Soap. His head tilts, and he finds you with that same gaze, the one he gave you when he had himself buried in your cunt. You shiver. 

Okay, Ghost. I got you. 

I’ve already got you. 

[tiredfox64]

My honest chances of getting with the MK Men

Okay so basically this is me rating myself (cause my brain don’t shut up) on how likely it is that any of the mk men would date me. This will be MK1 mind you

Bi-Han: 0%-10%- Not a chance in hell. He doesn’t want to hear about my day, he doesn’t want to listen about my hyperfixations, he doesn’t like my hair, my body type ain’t it, he doesn’t believe I have mental illnesses, he hates that I take hot showers, the list goes on. That 10% is if I have the balls to bite back I think he’d like that.

Kuai Liang: 40%- He’d see me as a nice woman but would recognize that I don’t want to be mature all the time. And my definition of tradition is way different than his. Studded belts, raccoon tails, and Juicy Couture are not traditional.

Tomas: 80%- Okay, I’m biased here cause I love this man. But I genuinely don’t think he cares too much. If I’m loving, he will take me. The missing 20% is because I can get aggressive or heated quickly.

Syzoth: 50%-100%- I’d say 50% because he did have a family before so he might not want to move on which is okay. But I think he would like me cause I love reptiles and I’m not afraid to eat a cricket or two.

Rain: 50%- Being smart never stopped me from being a dumbass but I think he will see I’m still smart no matter what. Although I love this man to death I deadass think we would have fights cause he’s cocky.

Johnny Cage: 30%- He would think he’s too cool for me. Simple as that. Will he flirt with me? Maybe. Will he date me? Slim chance.

Kenshi: 70%- He chill tbh. I don’t think he would have a problem with my weight or my illnesses. We’ll find a way to vibe. But I’m not the first girl he would pick.

Raiden: 90%- Similar with Tomas he don’t care too much. He doesn’t get scared by me getting heated. That 10% is because we’ve lived different lives so it would be hard to find middle ground. I can’t take silence 😭.

Kung Lao: 70%- He’d love my family more than me. They make good food. I can cook too but he wants the whole family to bring him pupusas and Shepard’s Pie.

Geras: 0%- Nothing against me, he just has an important job and I respect that.

Liu Kang: 10%- Again I think this would be nothing against me he just loves his Kitana. But there is a tiny chance for me I feel like.

Reiko: 30%- He doesn’t like earthrealmers and I’m not sure he would like my body type. But I think he would love my attitude so that’s where that little percent comes from.

Shao: 0%- Nope, just nope. He hates earthrealmers. Wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Havik: 80%- Okay hear me out. I get points off because I’m religious (so I follow a god) and I am against anarchy. Other than that, he would love me. Like I feel like he would love a chubby girl. He’d love my hair, he’d love my tattoos, he’d love the way I express myself (being topless). I’d love to watch analog horror series with him. I’d give him a kiss every time I’d get scared.

Baraka: 0%- He had a family once and he doesn’t want to infect me. That’s reasonable.

Shang Tsung: 50%- Listen, I’d feel like he’d fuck with anybody. If I tell him how good my immune system is that gives me points. That means I’m durable to experiment on. And he can give me back shots while doing it.

Quan Chi: 10%- Nope, I’d lift my rosary up before letting him close. He was fucking with spirits I’d curse him out for that and he would not like me. He would like that I have an attitude.

Ermac: 0.01%-…well at least one of those fuckers inside of there would like me.

BONUS ROUND: KAMEOS (my favorites to be exact)

Mavado: 100%- Yeah he’s loyal to his clan but if I slap him and immediately kiss him after that’s it he’s done. He loyal to me and his clan after that.

Stryker: 50%- I’M good, everyone else in my life has a problem.

[chaoticyumelikes]

Sweet!! I have a request..fanfic! I wasn’t sure which character you write for but I’m leaning towards redson from lmk ( love me a tsundere ) who has a fem partner who’s very shy yet cuddly and wants affection from him since he’s busy with his machines but of course this is making the fire prince flustered since he’s never seen her that way and it gets worse when she says with a cute sad doe eyes “ please kiss me ” and boom. The rest is up to you! Hopefully this was okay!

Alright!!

Redson x shy!reader

Weeeeeellll opposites do attract but oh boy.

To have fallen in love with you was not easy on the flaming prince. He was of royal status. He couldn't waste his time with peasants much less so when he has the duty to build and conquer to gain the favor of his own parents. But then he meets you, a shy little mortal peasant and he scowls. When he isn't able to hear you he is LOUD and curt.

"SPEAK UP PEASANT!"

Your hurt expression does give him pause and he readjusts his temper slightly. A veeeeery tiny fraction. At first.

He does begin to like your presence though. You actually listen to him to all his ramblings, you grow fascinated at his technology and even though you don't understand his more technical terms you edge him on. So he begins to search for you when he has brilliant ideas for new mech. If he has your phone number expect him to call you at odd hours and rant to you about his latest invention and plans all the while on his bed kicking his legs with a huge smile on his face. If you complain about the hour he will get a bit snappy after all why should he respect your weak sleeping schedule. He does take note of it and kiiiinda tries to respect it. When he remembers that is. This man/demon is full of work so he's going to forget what hour and what day it even is. But he does feel fortunate to have you. While his parents treated him as a disappointment you were there fascinated and loving his every invention.

As time passes he drops the "peasant" around you.

MK tired: Stop calling us peasants...

Redson with a greatly offended expression: Excuuuuuse you Noodle Boy! I called you all peasants! *points at you with his hand* They are superior to you. In fact! *he shoos away MK from around you with a disgusted look on his face while gently dusting you off the Noodle Boy's germs off you* Stay away from them, don't bother them, don't look at them, don't infect them with your very presence. Come along dear let's go enjoy civilised company together.

Yeah... He is trying... If you point out he was rude to MK be prepared to chase a flaming Redson after MK on accounts on trying to poison you against him.

You: Please stop trying to hurt MK.

Redson smiling after a while of this repeated topic of conversation: I wouldn't dream of it *secretly presses a button to deploy several robots and weapons to carry out the job*

Invitations to his home and workshop, feel pride my shy human mortal, for you get to see the genious at work! You even try to help out when he vehemently prohibits so. You are his guest and his workshop isn't exactly... Mortal friendly. He will treat you like royalty in return for you caring about him all the while denying it. Point out his blush and he will snap that it's just the heat from the lava. And speaking of this, he will sometimes work without a shirt on and then it's your turn to blame your rosy cheeks on the general heat.

Redson: Excuse me, they asked for no pickles *now threatening the clerk* IS THAT SO HARD FOR YOUR PUNY MORTAL PEASANT BRAIN TO COMPREHEND?!

Yeeeeah he has a temper and it causes problems in his everyday life including you. He will not apologise.... By words I mean. He will leave you trinkets and acts of service. Builds you a robot for protection or build you a super cool (and deadly) vehicle.

Now about trying to show this man physical affection... Will be hard. Redson's not a very touchy person as he is deeply indoctrinated into his noble ways. And nobles do not touch unless a specific protocol is followed. So it has to be introduced in small baby steps.... You know.... Gently.... Like trying to disable a bomb.

He won't hurt you but he will flinch away and give you a look of discomfort and suspicion. Insist and be prepared for a lecture on proper etiquette.

When he FINALLY gets that he loves you... Well his world shatters. He starts to overthink and have panic attacks. How would his parents react (they have known for the longest time)? How would he court you? Should he stick to ancient demon ways to court a human? By formal kidnapping? Should he learn the human peasant ways? Eugh! But should he? Etc, etc.

He begins to shower you in gifts made by him. Super cool armor to protect you that ends up with so many functions and customization that you can't move at how heavy it is. Like I mentioned before a robot buttler, a robot bodyguard, a robot cook.... You know what? Just move in the mansion and you get a robot army. You think he is kidding... He is definitely not. The mansion has room and protection and he will make sure to attend to your every need plus you will stay close to your one only genius. Deny him and he will do as he always does..... Makes even more effort that ends in new explosive failures. One time the Monkey Crew even asked him if he was trying to actively kill you.

When you two finally get together.... You're not able to touch him, even get near him thanks to his fire powers go out of control at how happy he is. Even his parents thought for a second that he had the Samadi fire back.

He is a demon while you're human so it is a relationship that has a learning curve on the both of you. Most intimacy happens behind closed doors. On one hand you have to initiate by verbal statements.... Which due to your shy nature it's hard. Plus he is more often working than not and so you don't want to bother him. But once you do say your piece he will finish his project fast to give you the cuddles you crave.... Well almost, as he is still stiff trying to engage in less formal ways. So be prepared for him to be like a stiff manequin as you're the one that have to whether tell him or put his arms around you to what you find acceptable. Say you want kisses and I hope you're wearing layers of non-inflamable cloth or you may get burned by his embarrassment or even eagerness. He controls it with time thanks to "training" (constant cuddles and kisses). Nonetheless you'll sometimes look like a freaking forge master as he tries to reign in his flames while you try anything new. Every Winter is a blessing, 10 out of 10 cuddles, while every Summer you'll need to crank up the AC or you will die (and yes you are forbidden to deny him affection. It is LAW).

Either way once he gets the hang of it..... Be prepared to have a very clingy boyfriend as he is extremely touch starved. He, formal and set in his ways as he is, WILL include in the daily schedule hours for cuddles and other forms of affection... If you get yourself a minute or micro second late you WILL be scolded. Initiate your best affection or you'll never hear the end of it.

[acaciusbride]

dancing at a club and catching mafia! Joel's eye, suddenly feeling him pressed up against him feeling you up and being invited to a more private area. mafia joels got me feral never thought of him like that until now

( I honestly don’t know where this AU idea came from, anon, but it lives in my head rent free and I’m glad I’ve infected you with this brain rot too. )

CWs: age gap / guns / oral sex (m!recieving) / unprotected sex / violence / language / dirty talk

——

You’ve been trying to get into this club for weeks, trying your luck queueing outside every Friday night. Finally, you’ve gotten lucky, and god damn is it worth the wait. It’s the fanciest place you’ve ever been in, but you suppose that makes sense. You’ve heard that the place is owned by the local crime family, and that doesn’t surprise you at all.

A few drinks in and you’re not remotely worried about dancing in a mafia owned club. You also barely notice anyone around you, except him. He’s older, older than you, but built solid, with slicked back grey streaked hair, and impossibly dark eyes that are fixed on you, watching your every move.

After a while, you lose track of him, shake off the feeling of being watched, lose yourself in the pounding music, head foggy from alcohol and adrenaline. Eyes half closed, you sway to the music, the bass pounding through your body.

Solid hands settle on your waist, pull your back flush against a wall of muscle; someone’s chest. You can feel a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, turn your head to see the older man from before smirking down at you.

“Don’t run, little rabbit.” His voice is low in your ear, but somehow still audible over the noise. There’s a slight drawl to his voice, the barest hint of an accent.

Even though every nerve in your body should be screaming at you to run, you don’t, instead press back against the man, let him run his hands over your body. You recognise him now, vaguely. You think his name is Joel, think he’s one of the enforcers for the family.

“How about we go somewhere a little quieter, hm?”

You know you should say no, but somehow you’re not so sure he’s the sort of man who takes no for an answer. And besides… you’re curious. He’s hot as hell, and dangerous, and you’re not the smartest when it comes to avoiding dangerous situations. So you let him wrap an arm around your waist and guide you from the crowded dance floor, down the hallway to one of the VIP rooms.

The music is still thumping over the speakers, but this room is much nicer, plush velvet couches and thick black carpet, walls painted black and accented with gold, dimly lit.

Joel sits himself down on one of the couches, pulls you onto his lap, draws out his gun and sets it to the side; still within arm’s reach, but not near you, ignoring it as his hand fists into your hair and drags you into a kiss. It’s rough and hungry, full of passion and need. You’ve never been kissed like this before, his hands roaming your body, pulling the tight skirt of your tiny dress up around your hips, hands kneading into the firm skin of your ass as he kisses you, makes your head spin with need for him. He pulls you against his body, grinding you down against the solid bulge in his jeans.

You whimper softly into his mouth at the feeling of him, at the thought of how big he must be.

“Very good, pretty girl.” His voice is low and husky, lips still slightly parted as he surveys you. “Now get on your knees for me. I know you want to.”

He’s right. You’re practically drooling over him, sliding from his lap to between his spread thighs in the time it takes him to unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, pull his hard cock out. Fuck, he’s big. Big and thick and so, so hard, just from watching you, just from kissing you.

You know he’s a dangerous man, would know it even if the gun sitting next to him wasn’t a very physical fucking reminder. And yet. And yet you tuck your hair behind your ears and lean in eagerly, taking him into your mouth, kissing and licking at the tip of him until he growls. Taking it as a warning, you slide him into your mouth, working your tongue around him as best you can, taking him deeper into your throat until you’re in danger of gagging.

He rocks into your throat almost lazily, those dark eyes fixated on you, one hand in your hair, the other resting on the gun beside him. Your jaw aches, your throat too full, but the look on his face is all the encouragement you need to keep going, until he pulls you roughly off of his cock, releases your hair.

“Get up here.”

You scramble to obey him, crawling back into his lap, your skirt still up around your waist. Your thin panties, or the scrap of lace that passes for panties, are absolutely soaked, and he can tell. Smirking, he tears them clean off you, yanks you right against his chest, tosses the ruined lace aside.

“Such a slutty little girl.” His fingers run along your soaked slit, dipping inside you, making you wriggle and whimper. “You know exactly what I am, but you still want me. Still sucked my cock like it was delicious.” He kisses your bare collarbone, amused when your eyes go back to the gun beside him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.” He sucks a deep purple mark into your throat. “Can’t promise I won’t make you scream for me, though.”

He lifts you like you’re nothing, lines you up before he pulls you down roughly onto his cock, letting you sink down onto him, feeling every inch as it disappears inside you. You bury your fingers in the denim of his shirt, digging your nails in as you brace yourself.

“That’s it…” his head falls back against the wall, exhaling softly as he feels you tightening around him. “Take it…”

And you do, addicted almost instantly to how he fills you, rolling your hips against him, riding him almost desperately in time to the music pounding through the walls. There’s power in knowing who he is, what he is, and having him beneath you, hearing him moan for you.

Not that you can stay smug for long; his hands plant on your waist, keeping you still as he ruts up against you, hard and fast, hitting your sweet spot. All you can do is cling to him, crying out when his rough hand slaps your ass, one side then the other.

“Please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for; permission, maybe? You somehow know he won’t like if it you climax without his say so. It’s hard to hold it back though, and he knows it.

“Go on, princess.” He nuzzles into your throat, kisses the mark he’s left on you. “Go ahead and cum all over my cock.”

You whimper at the filthy words, at the gentle touch, and the feeling of him deep inside you; you take the permission though, letting go entirely, your entire body shaking as your release washes over you. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten laid, and why not admit it? He’s fucking good.

He knows it, too, but he’s too focused on chasing his own release to be smug about it, holding you in place with one hand, the other snaking around your throat as he bucks up into you, harder and faster, filling you with hot thick ropes of his release before he can stop himself, cursing under his breath the entire time.

He rests his head on your shoulder, considerate enough to let you regain your breath before he snags your phone from your bra, enters a number into your contacts, all without shifting you from his lap, keeping you seated on his cock.

“Next time you need to be fucked properly, princess? You give me a call.”

You nod, still dazed, beyond words.

It doesn’t occur to you until the next morning, nursing a major hangover, that the enforcer of the local fucking mafia has given you his number, implied he wants to see you again. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

[thebrandywine]

maaaav hope you’re doing well ☺️ those puppy Leon sketches from the other day have been swirling in my brain soooo maybe ❛ you gonna be a good boy for me? ❜ for Leon?

i'm going to be SO real with you- i am not in the smut mindset today. the smutset, if you will. but @fonulyn and i chatted and here you goooo

accidental sequel to the last one?!

-

"I don't need a medical exam. I'm fine."

Chris shakes his head and walks off, abandoning Piers to the task of making Leon not be an idiot. "I'll have them get a room ready," he calls back.

"Leon," Piers says with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot after the day they've had. "You have a gut wound."

"It didn't break all the layers of skin."

"It's going to get infected."

Leon glances up at him from where he's strapped to the travel gurney and clearly still unhappy about it. "I have so many leftover antibiotics at my place."

Like that's reassuring, Piers thinks, passing a hand over his eyes. While Leon has gotten a lot better over the past few years when it comes to admitting himself to medical, there are still times where he is adamant that he's fine, and that he doesn't need to see anyone, and that it would be a waste of everyone's time if he did. To Piers, those instances are still random, and he has been unsuccessful so far in tracking a rhyme or reason as to why they pop up.

Piers opens his mouth to argue and then stops, struck by lightning. He drops his hand and braces himself on the rails of the gurney, looming over Leon and letting his expression go confident and authoritative and wanting. His mouth curls into a tiny smile as he dips closer.

Leon's eyes widen a little before narrowing. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Piers asks.

"Don't."

Piers lowers his face in to nuzzle their noses together, glancing brushes of their lips all the contact that he allows. Even injured and missing half his blood, Leon still automatically tries to tip up into the kiss. He fails.

Piers kisses him very, very lightly right under his eye. When Leon shudders, he lowers his voice to ask huskily, "You gonna be a good boy for me?"

Leon sucks in a quiet breath, shifting against the straps holding him down for transportation, hands clenching tightly. "You're an asshole," he hisses.

Piers hums, kisses the same spot again, and then trails his lips over to Leon's ear. "C'mon, baby," he murmurs. "If you're good, I'll give you a treat."

"I'm not a dog," Leon tries to say, but it almost comes out as a squeak--

"I just learned way more about your sex life than I ever wanted to know," Jill says.

Piers jumps clear away from the gurney and whips around. Leon jerks in place and then barely smothers a cry of pain, expression twisting as he presses a hand to his stomach. Jill has a vaguely disgusted look on her face but ignores them both, pulling the lock on the gurney's wheels and grasping the footrail to start down the hall.

"I," Piers says, scrambling after them.

Jill intones, "I do not want to know."

Leon asks tightly, "Can someone just kill me now?"

[babybluebex]

You have infected my brain with married young as he shows you off at the red carpet. You’re matching wedding rings just being the whole topic of the night for dom bf even not married the rings being even promise rings is so cute

charlie i love how this is nigh incomprehensible and yet i know exactly what you mean

like maybe you guys have been dating for a long time, and he proposed to you right before the movie came out because "everything's about to change in my life, and you're the one thing i want to keep the same", and like. late october was a WILD week for dom, the movie had a wide release in the US on the 23rd, his 21st birthday was the 25th, halloween was the 31st, like a JAM PACKED WEEK. and yall got legally married on november 1st, the official start of a new month and new era in his life

and he's never like intentionally hidden you or your marriage, it's just like you weren't quite ready to lose your anonymity yet, so you had been hesitant to go to industry events with him, and he had never been directly asked about the ring he wore on his left hand, so he just. never told anyone. if anyone asked, he would've told them, but nobody did, so he just kept his lips zipped.

and then the night of the academy awards rolls around, and you finally decide to show your face, and everyone IMMEDIATELY notices the rock on your hand (it's nothing crazy, he was like 20 when he bought it for you, so manage expectations), and everyone sorta at the same time goes "... has he ALWAYS worn that band on his finger or is this new??"

and of course it's a frenzy of journalists trying to find out ANYTHING about you, and no matter what you do, if/where you go to uni, what job you have, dom is your biggest fan "my wife is still in college, she's a lot more serious about her education than i am" or "she's not really working right now, but it's fine, she's happy and that's all that matters"

OR IF THEY'RE JUST PROMISE RINGS, dom claims to the media that they're wedding rings, just because he saw the way barry keoghan was looking at you at the oscars luncheon and he's not TOXICALLY POSSESSIVE but like. maybe let's go to the other side of the room, ooh look cillian murphy, let's go say hi to him!

so yeah, tiny love dom.

[corvin-ito]

okay btw one of my wreck-it ralph movie universe headcanons is that theres bosses in heros duty, which are the various soldiers getting turned into cy-bugs.

now, i imagine that the programmers of the game had to implement code to delete the "becoming a cy-bug and dying" part of the characters memory because before doing that the characters would Stop Showing Up in the bossfights for Some Reason (the characters chose not to show up. but. the devs dont know theyre sentient.)

which this is a good enough band-aid solution! especially for personal ports of the game where like the characters will only sometimes experience the boss fights, and no little errors in their code can crop up. especially very little issues for physical copies of the game (unless the disk scratches or somthin)

but in an arcade enviroment? where hundreds of kids are playing daily? and where the hero's duty and other arcade game characters can interact? the tiniest imperfection- the tiniest memory leak (a litteral one in this case) can be fucking devestating.

thats what i think happened to markowski. i think he had a tiny imperfection in his code where ! oops ! he doesnt forget being turned into a cy-bug! and i also think markowski would be the first boss in heros duty. so like. in One Week of bein g plugged in he's been turned into a bug over and over and killed over and over (either from the player's gun or the big ol bug zapper lazer) and no one fucking believes him because THEIR MEMORY GETS ERASED EVERY TIME.

i think that, in other arcades in the WIR universe, arcades where there was never a Turbo incident, Hero's Duty would be a problem game of apocalyptic proportions. like. One Guy doesnt show up for a quarter alert because hes sick of becoming a bug and it kinda fucks up the game a little. And like, theres a significant risk of a Cy-bug breaking out and getting into another machine.

arcades with copies of heros duty end up having to replace some of their games because of "dead pixels" (cy-bug swarms rendering as just green blurs) or "missing assets" (cy-bugs destroying everything in sight) or the entire machine just. breaking. the outlet it was in exploding (in cases where the hero's duty characters notice a cy-bug escape and manage to quarintine it in one of the games it fled to. rare "good" ending where they evacuate the characters and blow up the exit before the cy-bugs infect another game)

some arcades just straight up go out of buisness because cy-bugs have taken over all of the games. they just cant be stopped if there's no beacon. and most games wouldnt have one! sugar rush was really lucky that diet cola mountain was there and the devs didnt think it a waste of gigabytes and cut it. real "we put this tomato out of bounds because if we deleted it the game broke" energy.

and nobody outside of the game world would know whats Really happening.

Litwak's Arcade, though? there's probably a therapy group that gets started for game characters. one similar to bad anon but maybe one thats a seperate branch for hero characters, especially fighter / shooter / general violent video game characters. like bad anon and similar groups would have been started because of Turbo and these groups were essentially formed to stop other characters from doing something so drastic. so litwak's arcade ends up being one of the few arcades with a still functional cabinet of Hero's Duty.

also i think that in a "turbo/king candy coded himself so deeply into sugar rush that he respawns" AU he would remember being a cy-bug and it would be. just. the worst fucking thing to have experienced! not only would he remember being eaten he would remember being burned to death by boiling hot soda! cause hes not programmed to deal with that. any character not from hero's duty would not be programmed to forget what being a cy-bug was like and it would be traumatic as hell. because i do think it fucks with your brain as well. i dont think all of cy-bug candy's behaviour was himself, i think a lot of that was the cy-bug just basically being given voice. i think the bug moreso took on some of king candy/turbos personaly rather than turbo taking over the bug.

characters who die after being eaten by a cy-bug will respawn like normal if they're in their correct game though. so if a cy-bug invasion happened but the bugs were exterminated, the characters would be fine. plus games have a world reset condition so damage can likely be repaired (like how for sugar rush the world reset condition was vanellope crossing the finish line.)

it would have lasting effects for sure. probably different ones depending on the individual. i think turbo specifically would end up with an "i need to BITE everyone" kind of lasting effect 100%

im putting this note at the end but i think the final boss of hero's duty would be seargent calhoun. i think she would get eaten by the cybug queen after all the other soldiers are gone and then she herself goes down. i also think tthat in the 1 week of hero's duty being plugged in at litwak's in the movie no one has actually gotten to the final boss yet (difficult game yknow!!) so its not really known if calhoun would experience a memory leak issue or not.

the second wreck it ralph movie isnt real it aint happened (/silly, joke) so if it condradicts anything i ever say. no it doesnt actually. i make the rules.

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love...

Chapter: V-Familiarity-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 4.6k+

♠︎Warning: murder, stalking, pussy eating (gxg)

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Midnight. The time when the silence washes over the village. It is said that after midnight, the souls of the guards that died run around and protect the realm. This village was just a tiny part of that. There were numerous villages in this realm. But what made this village the worse was that the castle was closer to there.

Coronis found it silly. She loved the darkness of the night. The hauntingness of it was thrilling for her. The mist surrounding her vision gave her another satisfaction. She loved how calm and quiet it would get and there was no one hurdling her way.

Sometimes, she found everything extra silly. Things around her were unrealistic. The baseless hatred among mankind was exceptionally gruesome. It was like an everyday activity to pierce a knife through someone's heart.

At least at night, everyone was tired and shut in their shacks, leaving a speck of stability around. There was no one fighting, no one was drowning themselves in alcohol near the slouchy path. There were no deafening herds of horses or blood-curdling screams for mercy.

At night, it was all calm and collected. Yet it felt like some hawk eyes were piercing through her brain.

Coronis was with her father, coming back from the meadows on the other side of the woods. The only light reflecting was from the lantern they both held and the foggy moonlight.

The trees were blurring behind the thick haze. The path back to the village was horrendous and soaked. The mud was grossing Coronis out. The howls of the Owls were unsettling.

Amidst all the silent chaos, she could hear a crow cawing in the distance. That made her heart thump against her chest. The creepy horror was seeping into her bones as time passed.

After her brief engagement with Nori, when she returned back home, Martha told her about the work that she had to do with Draco. And they left for the meadows the next moment.

Her aunt had passed away after suffering from a bacterial infection. Though they had not visited her lately, she was still important to the family. And the wealth she had left behind was even more critical to take care of. Not because they were greedy for money but the fact that Cousin Griffin had left for the South for King's work. The property was needed to be saved from the predators who were too eager to get their hands on anything that could buy them a quick inebriation. This wealth belonged to Griffin, rightfully. And they needed to protect it for him.

Onyx had also returned the same day. He looked paler and thinner almost as if he was not fed enough. On asking, he just shrugged and said “I am just thankful to be here, alive.” which practically did not satisfy anyone's worries. Even Circe looked sympathetic to her older brother.

It was not surprising.

“We should have stayed there for a night,” Draco sighed as he stopped. It was a frigid night but his forehead was covered in sweat. He wiped and looked back at Coronis who was walking behind with a jute carrier on her shoulder, filled with emotional possessions.

Coronis stopped next to her father and dropped the sack on the ground. Her breath was huffing. “I think so. But it would have been much more perilous to bring it all with us without getting stabbed… So I think it is better now than tomorrow.”

Draco nodded, agreeing with her. “We should rest here before proceeding with this path. I feel my legs falling off.” He took out a little sheet for his daughter to sit on. They both sat down and sipped some water and munched on some bread that Coronis packed with them.

They both sat there in silence, hearing animals howl and growl in the space. But one echoing cawing was making her eye twitch... Again and again. Deep down, she could feel the frightening feeling crawling up her spine. Something was coming her way.

“Coronis…” The father sighed.

“Yes, Father,” She looked at him, who looked tired. His eyes were shrinking into his skull. The dark circles were reaching far below his cheekbones. The wrinkles looked deeper and the skin looked rough, dead of any moisture. Her heart squeezed inside her chest. He looked like a dead man walking around.

It was the first time she noticed him up so closely.

“I don't know what happened to Martha… I'm scared for her,” he let out another sigh. “We have been together for so long. I was only eighteen and she was sixteen. Since then, we have never separated our paths. We knew how things were ruling over here. None of our parents were nice to us. It was bad, really bad. When both of our parents passed away, we cried tears of happiness. We knew in this world, only we both could be nice to each other and give all the love we could… It was never enough. I never gave her enough love. I was always on foot, going around, surviving and trying to bring some food home. It was all worth it though. Whenever I came back home, she would let out a sigh of relief and look at me, head to toe, to see if I was wounded or not. Whenever she would find even a tiny little scratch, she would cry and treat it with full care.”

Draco was looking up at the dull sky, eyes holding all the stars, that the sky couldn't hold, for his wife who was waiting back at home for her two gems to come back, safe and sound. He continued, “For her whole life, she just focused on keeping us safe. You know when she was pregnant with you, she would stitch these little gowns and bows for you… I always used to ask how she was so sure that it was going to be a girl. You know what she would say?” she shook her head and he chuckled, “she would say with a blushy face that she is sure about a baby girl because she feels less stressed as if the baby in her belly was taking half of her worries. She started to Iive happier and would talk to her swell all the time about everything.” his eyes filled with tears at the far memory. “Then you were born. So calm and collected. As if you were an old lady trapped in an infant's body. You would not cry but sit there, looking tiny and pretty and just look at your mother. You brought her happiness no one ever did. Not me, not Onyx, not Circe. For some reason, you were all she ever wanted to have with me. Not that she didn't love the other two… you were just a part of her that she couldn't keep her mind away from. Someone special you could say.”

Coronis didn't know how to say anything. Her senses were filled with emotions that she couldn't quite put a finger on. She was aware of her family, and how much they were different from others. They never fought. When she saw others beating their wives to death, her father kissed his wife's pain away and told her how much he loved her and that everything will be alright.

“Seeing her so tense reminds me of days when we used to live with the fear of your grandparents attacking us. But only worse.” He said. “I hope she feels better soon.” Draco stood up, cleaning his clothes. “Stay here, I'll be back in a second.” he gestured his pinky finger and jogged deeper into the woods.

Coronis sighed and stood up herself and started folding the sheet and packing the stuff back. Soon, she heard the fluttering of a bird closer and then right above her. She looked up and saw a distressed crow above her. She gasped and tried to fling it away. “Coro! No! What happened?!” she hissed. The crow clawed her hair and turned her head in one direction. She opened her eyes and her jaw dropped. A scream bubbled in her throat but never escaped.

There stood a man much closer yet still far away. She could tell who he was. This time, his face was covered but his chest was bare… Drenched in blood. The sweat started trickling down her face, and the crow sat on her shoulder. Her chest rose up and down, trying to take in enough oxygen to at least make her stay awake and not faint. He looked like a monster standing there between the thick mist around him. The lantern in his hand made him look bloodthirsty. Though, he looked like he had just drunk up a whole human. This made her think about her father in an instant. Was he okay? Who's blood is on his chest?

She looked around and saw about five more pairs of eyes looking directly into her soul. The panic started to bubble up. She rubbed her eyes to see him clearer but the moment she opened her eyes, he was gone, as if he was never there. But she knew he was. She knew he was there to see her and would follow her along.

“Coronis,” she flinched violently and turned around. A sigh of relief escaped her seeing her father alive in front of her eyes. “What happened? Why are you looking like you are about to pass out.” He held her against his chest and patted her head. Coro flew and sat on Draco’s shoulder.

Coronis took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to her father's panicked heartbeat that slowly calmed her. “I got scared.”

“Of what?” he carefully asked.

“Just that you took some time to come back,” she whispered and hugged her father tighter.

Draco kissed her head, “I'm back, okay? C’mon, let's go before it is even later. And why is Coro here?”

“Nothing, he just flew and came to us.”

…

The father and daughter knocked at their house’s door. Not even a breath later, Martha opened it with a huge smile and welcomed them in.

“Ah, I was getting worried about you two,” Martha said. “I couldn't even close my eyes.”

Draco smiled and hugged her tightly and pecked her lips. “We took a break in the forest. It was a long walk… I can feel my feet falling off.”

Martha chucked, “Hm, I knew it. So, I have prepared some warm water for you to soak your feet in.” She quickly bought two buckets with her and placed them in front of two chairs. “Here, sit.”

Coronis let out a sigh as her cold and tired feet touched the warm water. The burden of the day washed out and her brain started to shut down. She had no more energy to think or process the night. It had taken a heavy toll on her mental and physical health.

The image of his blood-blanketed chest spiraled in her mind, making her shiver. In the deepest of the forests, he was following her with silent steps. She did not see him again after that. But this time she realized how much he was prowling her without her knowledge and it was enough to make her awake in alertness.

“I would say we should make Circe sleep in your room from now on,” Coronis spoke in a low voice. “I don't feel comfortable sleeping with her anymore… I'm getting older and,” she cleared her throat, “I have my own needs to take care of.”

As awkward as she made it sound, Martha understood why she said that. However, Draco felt concerned. Seeing that their daughter is now an adult and so ready to get married. He didn't voice his thoughts but kept them in his mind.

“Of course, sweetheart… We understand,” Martha said. “Would you like to have something before going to sleep?”

How lucky could she feel thinking about the chances of Circe sleeping with her parents the night he gifted that awful locket?

…

The morning was silently chaotic. The whispers, people running around, gasps. Coronis sighed, knowing exclusively well what was happening.

“What was the number?” she asked as she stepped out of her slot and paddled towards the kitchenette.

“Two hundred sixty-seven,” Onyx reminded. “But in my opinion… You should start another set of counting.”

She stopped and turned around to look at her brother with a confused look. “Why?”

“Hmm… Maybe a new tendency of assassinating the lord's men has begun. If you want to, see it for yourself… I would not propose it though but it would be three if we count the one who captured Circe. It's not a sight to see…” he saw her running outside and shook his head. He knew it was something Coronis didn't need to see. It was horrible yet not surprising.

Coronis regretted it in an instant. She shouldn't have left her shack. The scene was horrible. Gut-wrenching. One of the men was hung on the hook, his chest ripped apart, his eyes ripped out– leaving a bloody trail on his cheeks. For so long, she had only seen people with large gashes, naked, hung on the hook. In the worst scenario, a headless body with their heads hung around. It always looked like an easy way to go. Breathing life was torturous. But death came with just a few gashes and a quick snap of a sword. Later the body was mutilated but the death couldn't feel anything.

This… This was horrendous. The nails of the man were covered in fresh blood which was still not dried yet and his arms had scratches. He looked like he went through hell before he died. Unlike others, he played with hell himself.

Was it the worst anyone could do? No.

The switches in her mind snapped and lurked back in time. Last night. He was standing there covered in blood, eyes looking shallower and colder. Was he there to kill this man? What was the purpose of him to be there at all?

Something in Coronis’s mind knocked that he was behind this unfortunate. Even though any man of the Lord did not deserve any mercy, considering this man has undoubtedly beheaded many. But the cruelty he has been through shone through his limp body.

It's all his deed.

The neigh of the horse made her flinch and look in its direction. A big blunder. His piercing gaze was looking deep into hers. He had two more men on his side. One of them seemed like he was talking to him, telling him about stuff. He patted his back and nodded.

“Coronis, come back inside,” Onyx called her back, seeing how she was almost hyperventilating. She didn't even feel it. “I warned you. But my mistake is telling you to see it yourself. Now, calm down, okay? It’s alright. Everything is okay. I’m here. You don’t need to worry.”

Brothers, if good, are the biggest blessings. Coronis always felt protected and easy whenever Onyx was around. She remembered when they were little, he would always be around her. Whenever they went to the market, he would hold her hand and never let it go. And when the patrolmen and guards passed by, he would cover her eyes and hug her, whispering that everything is okay and that he would never let anyone touch any hair of hers let alone her body. He was like a human shield for her and still is.

“I’m fine, I just… I feel tired,” she whispered against his chest as he hugged her.

Onyx rested his palm on her forehead, “Coronis, you are burning. You must have caught a fever after travelling for so long. Go into your room… I'll come to you in a moment.”

Coronis followed his command like a little puppy. She slipped into her blanket and lay down, closing her eyes. She tried to shut down her brain before the anxiety rushed in. But it failed terribly.

Things have taken a big turn. It was only going downhill and she was dragging others with her, too. She didn't know why that guard was hung over there but she was worried about her family and Nori.

“There, there, little girl,” Onyx came in with a bowl full of soup and some bread. “You eat this first. I'm right here. I don't have to go to work today.”

“Where is mom?” she asked.

“She had some errands to run. She is at the market. Won't be long,” he said as he dipped a piece of bread in soup and fed her. “What happened? And don't even think of lying… I can see right through you.” He waited for her to finish and speak.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Coronis. Nothing is not the answer I want,” he said authoritatively.

Coronis sighed and tears pricked in her eyes. The burden was whacking against her chest, trying to escape and scream freely. She had no clue about how to stop all of this mess and save everyone she loved. It did not seem like a good idea to bare her feelings in front of her brother who had just returned from only he knows what misery.

“Everything is falling apart. When I think that I might be getting better or that everyone around me is getting better, it all goes down and crushes into dust. All the hopes and expectations fall apart and hurt. I'm bringing down everyone along with me,” she cried. “I feel like this is going to end very badly.” She looked into his eyes. “I do not want to lose any one of you.”

Onyx sadly chuckled and threaded his fingers through her hair. “It is going to end badly one way or another… So why not keep us aside for once and think about what makes you happy?” He smiled and hugged her. “We all are built to go away at one point. So just enjoy what makes you happy for these moments and see what happens…”

Maybe for once, she needed to break the ties.

…

A light hand caressing Coronis's head and a cold handkerchief on her forehead woke her up. Her eyes slowly blinked, trying to focus.

“Ah, did I wake you up?” a soft familiar voice spoke.

“Nori?” Coronis whispered.

“Hmm, yeah?” she asked.

Coronis looked at her and saw her sitting beside her, looking pretty as always in her black gown. She was stroking her hair, making her head feel better. “What are you doing here?”

“I met Martha in the market. She said she was going to be late as her work was still stuck… Something about the aunt that passed away. So she sent me here to hand over some stuff that was needed. Then Onyx told me you had a fever. He needed to be somewhere so I offered to stay with you,” she laid next to her and hugged her side.

“Circe?” Coronis asked.

“She went with Draco who came a few moments ago. They went to the meadows,” Nori tucked away Coronis's hair behind her ear.

“So we are alone here?” she asked.

“Mhm,” she smiled.

Nori felt like the home Coronis craved. Her sympathetic eyes and delicate face brought euphoria to her footsteps. It was the vulnerability that was fogging her mind again.

Being with Nori was what made her genuinely happy. Love or lust… She didn't know what it was but whatever it was, it was addicting. She felt like the weed that Coronis needed to smoke.

Nori… was all she felt.

“Your fever is down now…” Nori started. “ I heard that you travelled for a long time yesterday. You were already tired when you left my place,” she blushed thinking about the things they did. “I think that is why you got a fever.”

Coronis listened to her talk, “I want to be happy,” she said, keeping all of her shame aside.

Nori looked at her, “hm?”

“I want to feel happy,” she said again. “Can you make me happy? Please me? Just me and nothing in return? Would that be too selfish?”

That's what made her happy. The feeling of her hands and mouth on her. For Coronis, there were lesser feelings but the itch for physical affection was overpowering. Her needy wants were what she wanted to satisfy. As much as she felt horrible for using Nori for her needs, she had started to feel some attraction, too. Every day, she found herself drifting towards her with a need to look at her and feel her against her fingertips.

This was the only time she let go of herself and became desperate for herself.

Nori bit her lower lip shyly. “You don't have to please me in return. I love pleasing you and the feeling of you near me. That's all I want.”

Coronis turned to her side and held Nori's face. She slowly pecked her, “Then please, help me feel happy,” and whispered.

Nori kissed her passionately. Their tongues tangled together. Coronis could feel herself getting embarrassingly wet for Nori. “Please, Nori, I can't take it anymore.”

Nori crawled down and removed the blanket from her and raised the skirt of her gown. In no time, she was bare in front of her eyes.

She kissed her ankle and slowly made her way up while licking and kissing every inch of her. She kissed her inner thigh and blew hot breath on her dripping core, making her shiver and giggle dumbly.

They looked like a lovesick couple.

She could see how Coronis was dripping wet for her. Her cunt was begging for attention and so she got. Nori dipped her head between her legs and licked a long strip, capturing her clit between her lips and sucking on it.

“Fuckk,” Coronis moaned. She could feel the vibration of Nori humming on her cunt. Her fingers grabbed her hair and pushed her face harder onto her cunt. “So good for me!”

Nori pushed her two fingers into her cunt and curled them, hitting her G-spot perfectly. Coronis's back arched and her mouth fell open in a silent scream. Nori quickened her pace and fucked her with her fingers. She licked and sucked on her clit until she could feel Coronis cum. Her legs shook and closed around her head as she came.

Nori sat up and looked into Coronis’s eyes and licked her fingers clean. She smiled, “you always taste so sweet.”

Coronis chuckled. “Thank you so much,” she said after catching her breath. She sat up and fixed her clothes. “Thank you for understanding me and helping me… I can't say something out loud but you get me through so much.”

“I said it yesterday… I’ll say it again. You don't have to tell me anything. I'm just glad that we can be together here and just… Exist,” Nori smiled. But before this exchange could proceed to something schmaltzy, she spoke up again. “I have to go to the market nearby. Will you join me?”

…

As Nori was pulling Coronis with her through the crowd of the market, Coronis got lost in her thoughts.

Her mind wandered back to the morning. When she saw him covered in blood, it was around midnight. And when she saw that man hanging on the hook, it was late in the morning. It had a difference of almost two-quarters (basically, almost twelve hours) of a full day and night when she saw him and then the man on the hook.

He was covered in blood at night but the man that she saw had fresh blood dripping down his body. It looked stiff. And he was there, clean in his attire. Not a spec of blood.

The man was not killed at night. He did not kill him. As far as she could think.

Then who did? A guard or patrolman, for sure. But why?

Was he out there at night hunting for wild animals? Or was there something else he was doing? Why did it feel like it had to do something with her?

She felt like she was making everything about herself at this point. Nothing was adding up. It was all a big mess. She could not wrap her head around anything that was going on. What exactly was this?

“Coronis,” Nori shook her out of her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” she looked around and then back at her. “Oh yeah! I am fine, yeah.”

Nori felt strange. She could see the gears turning around in Coronis’s mind. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Yeah, of course,” Coronis said.

“I'll get the meat. Can you get the fruits from Eli's?” she sweetly asked.

“Okay,” she took the money and walked towards the Eli’s. She checked through the fruits and got the best one she could find and paid the price.

On her way back, she was met with a familiar scent that made her shiver out of her boots. She looked to her right and saw a young girl, around her age, preparing some redolent.

Coronis stepped into the shop and looked around and saw many glass bottles containing pretty coloured liquid. Each of them was labelled as different redolent. Some were floral and some were labelled as cigars. An odd choice of scent but she couldn't make a remark on it.

“What would you like?” the girl asked as she looked at the newcomer.

Coronis looked at the bottle that the girl was preparing. Its scent was almost making her suffocate yet it was pleasant to sniff. She had only sniffed it once. It had a delightful scent of woody and musky redolent.

“How much for that?” she pointed at the bottle.

The girl's eyes widened. “You can not buy that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“It's for the Lord. You know, no one can use what he exploits,” Coronis’s ears started to ring. She got out of the shop and quickly walked in Nori’s direction.

No no no, this can't be it, she thought. This can not happen. This is not real. This is not fucking real. Her hands and pupils shook in dread after the realization hit her in her guts.

Her world shattered in front of her eyes after hearing just a few words. Out of everyone, him. How unlucky was she that she was thrown into this situation? She thought she was playing with the devil but it was the Lord himself.

The sweat trickled down her face as her colour went pale. Her lips felt chapped and her throat went dry. It was forbidden. Everything that she was committing was forbidden. This could no longer happen.

Her brain was empty of thoughts and only those firey gaze remained stuck.

“Coronis!” Nori caught Coronis by her arm. “What happened? Why are you sweating like that? Did something happen? Talk to me!” she started to panic after seeing how Coronis was hyperventilating.

Coronis shoved the fruits into Nori's hands and pulled away. She looked at Nori as if she was a ghost. Her steps moved away from Nori as she tried to get a grip on Coronis. But she whimpered and her tears rolled down her cheeks. She vigorously shook her head and gestured to her (Nori) to stop wherever she was.

“Coronis, why are you doing this?” Nori felt hurt seeing the woman she loved running away from her like this. Her heart felt heavier and on the edge of bursting.

She felt sympathetic to Coronis as she saw how her face drained out of blood and looked like a phantom. Her body shook like a leaf and sweat soaked her face like water.

Poor girl must have seen something awful to make her look like this. Coronis was stronger than any woman Nori had ever seen. She always carried herself with a tough demeanour, scaring people away. And now, seeing her crumble in front of her eyes, broke her heart. She wanted to hold her and tell her that everything was fine.

“We can’t do this anymore! We are done!”

.....

Sanaa's note:

I hope you guys are doing fine! I love interacting with you all, it makes me feel like you guys actually care for my blog. It makes me feel a little important, not gonna lie. So thank you so much. I hope you will leave some feedback for this chapter as well😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jjkreblog @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby

Have a nice day/night💓

[kcsplace]

It's your irregularly scheduled "Casey loses her mind over tiny moments filmed so fucking perfectly."

Once again, my beloved Don.

We first "meet" Don at the factory gates with all the other men hoping to be picked for the scant number of jobs that day. As per his usual, he's silent, he's at the back, he's separate. But the most impactful thing about Don, the thing that truly silently demonstrates him as "important", as "separate", as "more than just another in the crowd", is that he is literally the only man without a hat

A sea of desperate, hopeful men. Our eye should, and does, get pulled to our lead, to Joe up front. But, soft! what stroke through yonder crowd breaks? It is the east, and Don is the sun.

There's Don, at the back, instantly noticeable and noticed because he's different. He stands out. Because he's not in a hat.

Instantly, whether you're brain registers it fully or not until later when the camera focuses on him, this man, this hatless man is special. He's not just another face in the crowd, he's here, and different, for a reason. Viewers might not even know his name, or at least his last name, for another twenty minutes, but he's someone.

I should mention I have a chest infection and a fever, so I've not slept in days and can't remember what breathing is so I might be insane at this juncture. But hey, it's giving some interesting emotional disturbance to my fic writing!

[moyashidoodles]

Tiny doodles of Pidge (my Tav) from act 1 and early act 2. Her hair changed for each act so it’s easy to tell where they are in their journey by how disheveled she looks.

Pidge is a wild magic sorcerer with an affinity for soul magic. She can see the color of others souls (I don’t consider this game breaking, but also it’s my brain baby so idc if that’s possible in the 5e rule set) there are some supplemental fan spells and materials for adding soul magic and flavor and there’s the soul knife subclass rogue which I think was a Critical Roll addition? Ugh, look at me spreading misinformation on the internet.

OC lore below the cut.

Content warning: abusive relationship discussion (parent and child), implied sexual and physical abuse.

Anyway, Pidge grew up Rapunzel like with a very controlling and narcissistic “mother knows best” mom. The only reason her mother even had a child was to be a “spare” body for when her mother succumbed to a fatal illness (and to help her mother transfer souls into soul coins and gems to be bartered in the 9 hells. Lots of devil’s work)

Pidge’s mother is controlling to the extent that Pidge was not allowed to learn anything about her wild magic and spent much of her life warded to keep her from accessing the weave. “For her own safety,” of course. The only magic she was allowed and praised for learning was soul magic, and this was to help her mother with her research into immortality and with business ventures.

Pidge was also used as “entertainment” for her mother’s important guests. Basically anything that her mother could get from Pidge, she would try to use to her benefit.

About 3-5months before the beginning of the game, Pidge escaped and crafted an amulet to protect her body and soul from being hijacked by her mother.

She is the only member of the bg3 origin crew who did not lose skills when she was infected by the tadpole. She didn’t really have skills to begin with. Much to Gale’s dismay, she learns basically on the fly and does a lot of “firebolt first, ask questions later.” To her, practical experience is much more important than book learning. Really she has adhd and can’t rote memorize for the life of her.

She identifies with Karlach early on as they both have had dealings with the hells, although Pidge is just beginning to understand the ramifications of her mother’s hellish business of soul coin forging.

Pidge is also very afraid in act 1 of Gale finding her out as she was told to keep her soul magic affinity secret by her mother. In truth the stigma for soul magic is not so bad, but it was a manipulation technique to keep Pidge from explaining to any magic practitioners what they were working on and how her mother planned to use the research to steal Pidge’s body.

Her mother is still hunting her down, so Pidge needs a permanent solution or soul barrier to keep herself from her mother “living vicariously” through her.

Bodily autonomy is stupid important to her. She rejects the Emperor the moment he tells her to “embrace her ilithid potential” for fear of losing herself. She is self conscious to the extreme and keeps notes on her newfound companions likes and dislikes so she can keep them happy. She had a legitimate panic attack when both Gale and Astarion wanted the necromancy of Thay because, according to her calculations, they would disapprove if the other was the recipient.

She fell for Astarion after rather disliking him for a good ten day or two. He won her over by being actually reliable in scrapes and being really funny. She can’t remember the last time anyone made her laugh, so she loves the feeling. They are the two smooth brained members of the group. Similar brain cell count.

This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. If you made it to the end, then you will have made it to the end! *salutes in Barcus Wroot*