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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year

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My my

Summary: I think we have a spy.

Her head spun on a swivel, jerking this way and that, searching for any hint of movement. She wasn’t going to be seen, she knew that, and if she was then it wouldn’t be that big of a deal because everyone that should know about this was a meta like her, and yet she couldn’t seem to relax.

Which was fair. After all, people like her had been turning up missing or dead for the past few months.

Hell, that was why she had shown up to this shady warehouse in the first place.

She eyed the building nervously. It wasn’t abandoned, that much was obvious. The roar of machines was almost deafening. It had probably been chosen because no one would be able to overhear their conversations.

Or they were being lured here to be murdered where no one would hear their screams.

She touched the mask on her face, checking that it wasn’t going to come off easily, and then – after a quick glance at her holopad to make sure she had gotten the address right – she slipped inside.

Machines whirred and steamed, heating up the air around her so much she started to wish she hadn’t opted for the varsity jacket. She ran her fingers over a pipe as she passed. Her fingers burned where she touched it. She didn’t mind.

She came upon The Door. She didn’t know it yet, but her life would be set upon a new path the moment she stepped through. This was the turning point. The moment where it all went wrong.

She didn’t know it yet, and yet… she bit her lip as she looked at it, quiet, hesitating. She could feel the weight of it all coming to rest on her shoulders, which she hiked up to her ears to try and bear it easier.

She… wasn’t sure she wanted to do this.

Hands in her jacket pockets, she pushed the door open with her side and stepped inside.

The room felt strange. Even if a normal person were there, they could have immediately pegged the fact that at least a few of the people in there were metas. Everyone was standing still, making idle chatter or scrolling through their holopads or eyeing up the other people in the room. It seemed calm. And, if there were only one of them, it would be. The way the air around them would shift around people like them was largely unnoticeable to any non-metas, but when there were this many of them? She could feel all of their auras slamming against each other, pushing, trying to earn their own space or hold the others at bay. Her own presence probably didn’t help.

Eight sets of eyes landed on her as the door slammed shut behind her. Or, at least, she was pretty sure of that, because some of the masks they were wearing hid their eyes. She could feel plenty of attention pressing down on her, though.

One stood in the middle of the room. He smiled at her. “That should be our last member,” he said, straightening to his full height. The man had already been taller than average, but now he almost towered over them all.

This effect was ruined by the fact that his outfit was atrocious, though. Santa Claus looking ass. Especially with the bit, white, fake beard he had opted for to hide his identity. Did he just have that on hand or did he go out actively looking for it? Which was worse?

He motioned for everyone to circle up in the middle of the room and, with varying degrees of reluctance, they all did so. The circle was a little wide, a little egg-shaped because she had opted to hang back some, but no one pointed this out. They, too, were eyeing the people next to them with obvious caution, clearly wondering whether they could get away with backing up as well.

“Now, I’m assuming we all know why we’re here,” the man in the center said, smiling brightly. He looked far too cheery for someone who was dealing with the fact that someone was targeting people like them. “Which means we should all get down to business, yeah?”

She raised her hand. “I want proof that everyone here is a meta.”

There was a murmur of assent.

The man raised an eyebrow at her. “Is the agreement to cloak our identities not enough?”

A tall boy wearing what appeared to be a mascot's head shook his head. By grabbing the cat-themed head and shaking it back and forth with his hands, as it was too big to do the motion normally. “No. What if they’re here?”

There was more assent. Louder this time. They were all risking at least some level of their anonymity by coming here, risking people seeing them and knowing. They deserved to know that everyone was safe, that everyone was like them, that no one would betray them.

The man sighed but nodded. He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m – uh, I don’t know… Hawkmoth.”

There was a collective snicker, and all of the people in the room cast amused glances at each other, all of them wordlessly making fun of the man for his dumb choice of names.

Hawkmoth’s face reddened behind his Santa Claus-style beard and he was quick to try and distract them: “I can sense and manipulate emotions.”

His attempts proved successful. The smiles slid off their faces. The glances exchanged were now far warier.

“Uh, Mr. Hawkmoth, sir, aren’t you supposed to –,” a woman wearing what seemed to be a Party City dragon mask began to say.

And then she almost fell to her knees with the force of the fear that washed over her. She felt like she had been pushed under the waves. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything, could only hope to wait it out so she could swim up to the surface. But wave after wave crashed into her, buffeting her around, and she couldn’t breathe –.

The man walked closer, his smile gone.

Blue eyes peered down at her. Cold and scrutinizing.

“Your emotions are wrong,” he informed her. He knelt down to be close to eye level. She strangled the scream that rose in her throat. She needed to keep hold of that air. There was so little of it as it was. “Why is that?”

“Please,” she begged, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Hell, she was here because she didn’t want to die. Pleasepleaseplease –.

And then he let her go.

She threw her hands out in front of her to stop herself from instantly collapsing, but it was really only delaying the inevitable. Her arms trembled so much that she knew she would fall flat on her face soon enough. She was given a moment of silence to catch her breath. No one said a word, just watched on as she struggled to remember exactly how to inhale without coughing all of the air up halfway through.

“So?” the man prompted, and she could feel the beginning of it crawling back.

“Nowaitwait!” It slowed to a trickle, just barely prickling at her skin and making goosebumps rise on her arms. She swallowed thickly. “I just… it’s…” She took a shaky breath. “I can heal. I can heal myself. So I’m not as scared as I probably ‘should’ be. It’s hard to kill me, y’know?”

There was a beat as this was considered.

And then the fear washed away, leaving her sweating and panting on the floor. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen the rest of the way.

“Your turn!” The man said brightly, his smile back in place. She wasn’t stupid enough to trust it, especially not after that stunt, but she nodded and decided to go along with it regardless. It wasn’t like she had any choice in the matter.

“I’m Ladybug…” she began, deciding to follow his example with the animal theme.

Hands still shaking, she pulled a plasma gun from her pocket. A small one, she could never fit one of the larger ones in her pockets, she wasn’t nearly rich enough to get a Capsule to shrink it… but a plasma gun, even a small one like this, was perfectly lethal regardless of the size. Every person in the room tensed, but she ignored them. She pressed a hand to the floor and then pointed her gun at it.

She took a deep, steadying breath. It did little to help the nerves eating away at her.

She pulled the trigger.

A tiny disk made of light sliced off her finger.

She didn’t even feel it. She stared at the blood spilling out of her, at the scorch mark on the floor and the blackened edges of her skin, at the finger that had been separated from her hand in a neat line that would have been impossible to see if she hadn’t flinched at the sound of the plasma gun fizzling out. Instead, her finger laid a half-inch from the rest of her hand.

She blinked once. Twice. It didn’t hurt. It would catch up to her, soon, though. The shock would wear off and she would start screaming.

Best if she didn’t let that happen.

She gritted her teeth and picked it up. Pressed it back to the wound. It wasn’t easy, the blood was trying to displace it. The skin at the edges was burned, blackened, and dead. They didn’t particularly want to mold to her will like they were supposed to, didn’t want to come back alive just for the sake of mitosis.

She forced her skin to heal around it. Her mouth went dry. There remained a tiny black band beneath her skin.

But it worked.

She looked up at him and used her newly attached finger to flip Hawkmoth the bird.

That earned a startled laugh from a guy wearing a bright yellow hoverbike helmet. At least he thought it was funny.

They continued going around the room without incident. People would list off their powers, and then give a short demonstration. There was someone who had an enhanced physique, someone with elemental control, teleportation, duplication, the ability to induce hallucinations…

It became abundantly clear as time went on that the only people present were the ones that were powerful enough to survive a direct attack.

No one wanted to wonder whether those were just the people that were confident enough to come to the meeting, or if this was all that was left.

And then… the second to last person, the one with the yellow motorbike helmet, stepped forward just slightly to greet them all:

“Hi! I’ll go by…” He gave a tiny shrug. “Uh. Cassandra.”

“... that’s a girl’s name,” someone pointed out. The one that duplicated themself. Poly, or something like that.

The boy gave another shrug. “It’s not like I’m going to be using the name for long.”

A chill crept into the room, and she wondered, idly, if Ryuuko was using her elemental powers to frost up the windows or something.

“I can see the future. It’s kinda hard to prove, but…” He cleared his throat nervously, his helmet tilting back as if he were looking skyward. “At least one of us will not be leaving here tonight.”

It went very still.

“We’re gonna die?!”

“Oh, you’d better be saying that one of us is sleeping here!”

“Shitshitshitshitshit –!”

“How far can you see into the future?” she asked.

A couple of people paused to send her Looks, their expressions a mix of pure disapproval and horror.

She gave an awkward little smile. At least most of the screaming had subsided, she had shocked it out of them.

Enough so that the last person, the boy with the cat head mask, could step up. Not literally, he stayed firmly in place, just barely leaning away from the circle, his hands in his hoodie pockets (probably clutching a weapon), with a kind of wariness that had only been proven correct by the apparent prophet’s prediction.

“Hi, I’m Chat Noir,” he said carefully. “I can do…”

He disappeared from view.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

Because there was a high whining sound and Hawkmoth’s eyes widened just before a hole tore itself through his torso.

Light flickered in the man’s eyes in the most literal sense before he crumpled in a heap.

It was silent for just a moment.

And then everyone leapt into action.

She stood among the chaos, her eyes wide as she stared at Hawkmoth’s prone form. Minute shivers ran up and down her spine. She knew she needed to move, but she didn’t. It wasn’t like a healer did too much good during a fight anyways.

As for everyone else… well, they weren’t faring too well, either. Fighting someone you couldn’t see was nigh impossible – and she suspected that was at least part of why Chat had gone for Hawkmoth, he couldn’t know if his ability to sense emotions would allow him to pinpoint him while he was invisible – and no one was particularly eager to try. They all just wanted to go. Rena Rouge disappeared in a puff of orange smoke. Pegasus dropped through a portal he created on the floor. Tigress was out the doors in seconds. Ryuuko used a blast of wind to jump onto a nearby machine in hopes of escaping that way. Polymouse split off into a bunch of avatars, allowing the real one to rush towards a nearby vent.

She took a hesitant step forward.

A hand reached out and locked around her wrist.

She looked up to find ‘Cassandra’. “Wha –?”

“You’re a healer, right?”

“How –?” She began, but he didn’t bother waiting for her to finish.

“Good. Come on,” he hissed, his expression impossible to see behind the visor of his helmet, and deciphering it was little more than a pipe dream, but she knew better than to disagree with someone this determined.

They used the fact that Chat Noir was, presumably, getting caught up dealing with Polymouse’s clones to escape, rushing out a nearby door. ‘Cassandra’ paused for just a second to pull a pipe free – the area it came from steamed and whistled in protest, a noxious-looking white gas spilling out – and then shoved it in front of the door to stop Chat from following them.

Marinette could only follow behind as he dragged her away. Out the door and into an alley.

It was here that she realized that, apparently, the helmet wasn’t for show.

She whistled lowly as he dragged her over to a hoverbike and started fumbling in his pockets for his keys. It was a nice model. Not new by any means, she could see quite a few scratches in the metal, but definitely tricked out.

He tugged at her arm insistently, and she grimaced before clambering on behind him.

Within seconds, they were gone.

They zipped about the city for a while. Aimless, it would seem. But, in reality, they were just trying to shake off an invisible tail.

Honestly, it was a little awkward. Neither of them could talk without screaming, everything else would be lost in the wind, so they simply went in silence. The only time the quiet was broken was so that she could relay her address to him, and that had taken all of two seconds.

He seemed kind of lost in thought, anyways, so she wasn’t sure whether he would have been the best conversation partner at the moment.

And, it really wasn’t that long of a trip to her house, so she didn’t mind too much.

He looked up at the location, and for a moment he was silent. And then he turned to look at her.

“You have an apartment?”

She gave a slight nod, not bothering to ask why he was so surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for people like them to be homeless, not when they were young. Whether because they got thrown out for being ‘freaks’ or because their parents tried to use them, they never seemed to last too long in their birth homes.

She wasn’t an exception.

“My dad was nice enough to adopt me.” Something soft crossed her face momentarily. “And my brother, but who cares about him?”

He gave a quiet laugh, but it sounded slightly forced.

She took that as her cue to slide off the bike.

She moved to walk into her apartment, to pretend that a large portion of this night hadn’t happened, but a hand clamped around her wrist again and she was forced to turn to look at him.

“I’ll contact you,” he told her.

She swallowed thickly. “Uh… okay, I’ll just give you my –.”

“I don’t need your number,” he said, waving her off absently. “Already have it.”

“How…?” She said, only to trail off when he tapped his finger to his head. “Right. Prophet.”

He nodded once. “I’ll call you later. It’s easier to deal with another meta if we all work together, right?”

“Of course, friendship is magic,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

He gave a good-natured laugh. But it trailed off strangely, and she found herself shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

His head tilted to the side just slightly. “You wanted to know how far into the future I can see.”

She nodded slightly, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looked at her feet. “I mean… yeah. I heard that the best way to get people to stop panicking was to shock them, so I decided to do something blatantly stupid. I don’t… like people being in distress. Makes me uncomfy.”

He hummed lightly, nodding his head in a way that seemed understanding.

“Do you still want to know?”

She gave a tiny, noncommittal shrug.

“As far as I want to. But, y’know, no matter what, my Vision always seems to stop sometime this year.”

She blinked at him. Did that mean…?

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Marinette fought the urge to back up a step. She did, however, slide a hand into her pocket and grab her gun, her finger coming to rest over the trigger.

She didn’t care if trying to fight a prophet could only ever end terribly for her. From the tone of voice he was using, she suspected it wasn’t going to be something she could opt out of.

He chuckled a little, but it wasn’t nearly as warm as the other one had been. He lifted his hands in a mocking kind of surrender. “What? I’m not accusing you, I was just wondering if you could help. Y’know, with you being a healer and all.”

She glanced back, towards her apartment. And then turned back to him, their eyes meeting for just a second.

“Afraid I don’t know anything about healing metas’ powers. Not even sure if fixing malfunctions counts as healing.”

“Mm. Worth a shot, I guess.” He straightened again on his bike. “See you later.”

She nodded wordlessly.

She watched the pale blue glow of the bike disappear from sight, the colors still streaking in her vision a little, and then quietly head up into her apartment.

Her family wasn’t home, that much was obvious, so she didn’t bother calling out for them as she kicked her shoes off and headed into the living room. A couple of takeout boxes lay on the table, and she smiled as she picked up a box of fried rice. Her brother would be pissed once he realized she ate it all, therefore she would make sure to do so.

Her plan for the night set, she turned on the news and collapsed on the couch with her food.

Just over an hour later, the window slid open.

She didn’t even seem to notice as a person slipped inside, blood dripping down the front of his shirt, the fake fur of his mascot head matted.

And then the girl blinked once and looked over.

“Oh, Adrien, you’re back? Could you show yourself?”

There was a moment before he materialized out of thin air, his cheeks tinted pink as he tossed the cat head aside. “Sorry. Forgot.”

“It’s fine. How’d it go? The damn prophet made me leave, so I couldn’t help.”

He groaned a little, dropping onto the couch. “It’s fine. As long as he doesn’t know…” Marinette glanced away, but thankfully he was too tired to notice. He groaned again, louder this time, and stretched across her lap. “Whatever. Let me tell you, that Polymouse person is a bitch to fight. I’m not even sure if I actually killed her, or just her avatars...”

He continued to complain well into the night. She listened, her fingers just barely carding through his hair, her power just barely thrumming beneath her skin as she healed his bruises before they could fully form.

And the two of them were safe.

◎◎◎◎

A girl sat on a beam connecting two windows. The backpack she wore made her look even younger than she was, but even at the age of 16 no one would ever doubt that her family had enough money for her to work toward higher education. She was severely out of place in the dingy environment – her clothes were immaculately clean and her holopad was without cracks and her smile was just a little too bright for her to be anything other than a kept child. Her jacket was pooled around her, allowing her to bask in one of the few sunny days they will get this year. Her legs swung innocently as she typed away on the interface. The flowerpots on a balcony near her seemed to almost lean in her direction, as if she could provide them even more life than the sun would ever be able to.

She was the kind of person people just can’t seem to hate. The one who always seemed to know exactly what you need, when you need it. The person who can talk to anyone, who can immediately slip into a lighthearted banter with strangers that leaves them feeling warm and fuzzy inside hours later. The girl who loved life so much that it spilled over into everyone else, no matter how sad they are.

She was a liar.

◎◎◎◎

A boy trekked through the city, joining in on the foot traffic. He moved at a brisk pace. Not because he is in a hurry, but because that is what everyone else is doing. He had blond hair, green eyes, and a pleasant little smile gracing his features. His black sweater seemed to swamp him, leaving him looking thinner and smaller than he really was. His shadow stretched behind him, just a little too long, but no one ever looked at him long enough to see.

He was the kind of person that no one ever seemed to remember. The one who you swear you went to elementary school with, but his name never seemed to leave the tip of your tongue. The person who only ever seemed to be a face in the crowd. The boy who had his name misspelled in all of the yearbooks he was actually included in.

He, too, was a liar.

◎◎◎◎

An old man hobbled about a kitchen. His cane knocked on the wood with every step. The smell of garlic hung in the air. A tea kettle whistled for attention and he smiled as he slowly picked it up and set it on the table. Two screens hover near his head and, from time to time, he looked at them, watching the two people he lived with go about their days. And then he would go back to making dinner, back to tending to the steak he was frying up and the cookie dough that just didn’t seem to want to come together no matter how hard he tried.

He was the kind of person that seemed to radiate safety and love. The one who you run to for help when you notice someone following you. The person who always smiles at everyone, no matter how terrible they were to him. The old man who calls everyone sweetheart and honey and sweetie with that kind little smile that makes you relax instantly.

He, of course, was the biggest liar of them all.

◎◎◎◎

They were a family.

They were anything but.

#maribat #dukinette #russian roulette but instead of a bullet #you don't know if this is an april fools prank #guess #:D #rare pairs #dukenette #duke thomas #signal #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug

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theinverts · 20 days

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‼️RARE PAIR‼️

another favorite rare pair of mine is spoovy! (aka russian roulette)

I know spy is well put together and all of that but I think he’s a bit of a pillow princess

Heavy’s face was giving me so many issues but I think it looks alright now

Also please give me notes on the bed and perspective since this is my first time using that in a finished piece

Gotta love my emotional support old men

#tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #heavy #spy #tf2 fanart #illustration #spoovy #spy x heavy #heavy x spy #heavyspy

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mrs-lockley · 4 months

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Once Upon a December

Pairing: Hades & Persephone AU, Miguel O’Hara x WOC!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Arranged marriage, implied age gap (reader is a couple centuries old and of age), mention of death and a child death/funeral (no actual death graphically described or specified), dark imagery of the Underworld, use and mentions of Greek mythology, conflicted feelings, magical realism, no time period specified Summary: In the early decades of your marriage to the god of the Underworld, you resented him for abruptly ending your maidenhood. As the decades go by, you learn that there is more to the man who rules the dead than you realize. One day, your husband takes you to Tartarus, the depths of the Underworld, to suggest a proposition.

Author's Note: Hi my little doves, I'm semi-back with a new fic! To be honest, this fic has been in my draft for 3 years (date of origin: 12/30/2020) with First Order!Poe originally, but I thought Miguel suited Hades much better. I have a few fics in my wips and it's honestly like Russian Roulette because i did not expect to complete a Miguel fic before a Jake fic, lol. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings and @v4mpires0ap for supporting me in completing this and giving me feedback! This fic was also deeply inspired by this comic illustrated by @katadesmoi, another take on the Hades & Persephone myth. If you like to listen to music while reading, I highly suggest listening to this Once Upon a December playlist on Youtube. Happy reading! Likes are appreciated, but reblogs make my heart go warm 🤍

Tagging: @soft-girl-musings @v4mpires0ap @venting402 @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub but only if you would like to read it!

You have seen this place before. The place where the stars fall to the earth, where the roots meet the soil, where the ocean meets the shore.

Where the dead meet the living, where the living meet the dead.

Your reflection mirrors you in the sky as you look up to the clouds with the whispering images of Earth shining down on you. On Earth, the clouds weep at the loss of the sun, but other clouds have gone soft with crystals catching the last kiss of sunlight before nightfall. Other places show the yellow sun shining over glistening forests and beaches, and some a starlight projection over snowfall.

A snowflake flutters from the sky, and you stretch your palm to watch it melt on your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Underneath the moonlight, the trace of a smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He moves to stand beside you and the two of you gaze at the glassy sky above.

Miguel keeps his distance, a shadow’s length between the two of you.

For a brief moment, a sparkling ember is reflected in those brown eyes, only to quickly disappear within a blink and a slight shake of his head.

Your husband was not malevolent, nor was he benevolent. Miguel was a man whose moral conviction strongly aligned with the laws of nature, life, and death. He takes no sides, but only stands in the middle, seeing nothing but carnage to his right and hearing the wailing of tears to his left.

You met him once before your arranged marriage. You and your mother were at a banquet one evening, your first banquet after the war when he caught your eye. Standing at the side of the hall with a glass of red wine in his hands, everyone fell into a hushed whisper. It was rare to see the god of the dead at a gathering like this, especially since the collapse of a universe.

As your mother mingled with one of her sisters, your curious eyes drifted into his orbit. It was as if the darkness of the Underworld followed him into the light, but you were entranced by the shadows that caressed the contours of his face. Centuries of carnage and war clouded his eyes a deep brown, but in the dim candlelight, you could see that in spite of witnessing the heaviness of humanity, there were traces of his youth in smile.

A pair of older women passed you, whispering quietly about him.

The wine looks too much like blood in his hands, one of them remarked with disdain.

But not to you.

It was difficult to not notice him with his imposing height and stature. Even as he stood to the side and in the shadows of the banquet hall, the wine in his hands reminded you of the deep crimson of a pomegranate, waiting for you to cut it open so you could taste its juices.

Smoothing your hair, you quickly averted your gaze and distracted yourself by listening to your mother discuss the upcoming spring harvest. You smiled at your aunt as she pitched in, acknowledging how the winter rain would help water the crops and contribute to a bountiful spring for the mortal universe.

But as the conversation continued, your skin prickled. It was as if something was burning you, a small flame lit on your skin and was rapidly growing into a thunderous wildfire that consumed everything in its wake.

You tried to ignore the sensation as you listened to your mother and your aunt's plan for the harvest, but the longer you ignored it, the hotter the fire burned your skin. It was as if you were thrown into a wildfire with the smoke filling your lungs, traveling to your throat, and threatening to spill from your mouth. Their voices began to fade into the distance as the roar of your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

Unable to ignore the feeling any longer, you began to look around to find the cause of your discomfort.

Your innocent eyes met his, and you could barely breathe.

His brown eyes darkened into what you would believe to be the darkness of the Underworld. It was as if he was pulling you into its depths– not seducing you into temptation– but revealing all of your secrets into the light.

All you could feel was the blood rushing to your face as he looked at you. You could not read the expression on his face as his eyes drank you in, but you could not tear yourself away. You were caught in his snare.

But as your eyes met, you saw something else. As he was reading you, you were reading him, trying to translate the pages of a book that was presented to you in an ancient language you discovered for the first time. The introduction was breathtaking, but the first chapter was consuming and inviting.

His eyes only left yours when you saw your father call and approach him. As he looked away, you too turned your eyes back to your mother and her sister. You could not hear what your father and Miguel were discussing behind you and your mother’s back, but you would soon learn that the god of the dead was blessed by your father for your hand in marriage.

There was no warning. One day, you were laying under the sun in the springfields with flowers in your hair, singing a love song from days of old. The next day, you were escorted to the world below you, climbing your way through its webs to become queen of the dark kingdom to your betrothed.

“I know you have assumptions about me.” Miguel’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely above a whisper in the snowfall. “I cannot change them or how you feel, nor do I intend on changing your mind, but …”

His words trail off, his voice fading into the distant sound of the winter winds howling in the cavern.

Looking back up at the dome above you, you catch his reflection. A shadow crosses his stern face, its fingers stretching across his tan skin. In the dim moonlight, you could almost catch streaks of silver in his dark waves. The centuries have taken a toll on him, and while you were a couple hundred years younger than him, you, too, felt the heaviness in your chest.

“I’ve heard stories,” you tell him quietly.

His eyes remain on the sky above with an unreadable expression. The only sound between you is the silent snowfall and the white clouds that puff around your lips with each breath you take.

“Do you believe them?”

His question catches you by surprise. Your eyes widen, your breath stuttering in your throat as you think about how to answer him.

Your husband turns to you then, a stormy look on his face as he looks at you.

You remembered the stories and cautionary tales your mother told you about him. While you were tending the rose garden one day, your mother shared with you the stories she heard from the other gods after attending a banquet.

He was the reason one of the universes collapsed. He meddled into the mortal realm when he should have stayed where he belonged- in the depths and shadows of the dead.

He chased a young boy to the edges of the Underworld, all because the poor boy wanted to save his father from dying. Imagine how cruel a man could be to stop a boy from saving his father.

That man shows no mercy or remorse for the dearly departed. He only sits on his throne as he listens to their tears of sadness and cries of anguish. He would not even show mercy to a mortal man who ventured into the Underworld to bring his lover back to life– instead, granting an impossible task that doomed the poor man from the start.

Decades ago, you might have believed the whispers of the gods, goddesses, and other celestial beings as they spoke about him behind his back. For the first few decades of your marriage, you resented him for taking you away from your mother and the mortal realm. He stole you away from the sun with just a simple blessing from your father, and he had not even spoken a single word to you before making you his bride and queen.

What he did not know was that once, you ran away.

As Miguel was in the heart of the Underworld, you briefly escaped its darkness. It was winter in the land of the living, and somehow, you managed to sneak past the hounds, the souls, and the suspecting ferryman who stood at the crossroads between realms.

(Whether he knew your plan of escape or not, he did not say. The ferryman merely watched with unknowing eyes as you slipped past him.)

Your lungs ached as you climbed your way out from underground. Soil crusted beneath your fingernails, your skin covered in earth when the light of the winter sun nearly burned your eyes upon your ascent.

You did not know how long you wandered, but you walked until the soles of your feet burned crimson. The skies darkened into icy shades of gray and white before weeping for the loss of the sun and your fingertips mirrored the color of your feet.

Day turned to night, and before long, you stumbled upon an evening wake.

Outside the church, the deceased’s family mingled in the winter night. Their eyes burned with tears as their voices trembled with each word spoken. Loved ones gathered around them to offer their condolences while the children sat outside on the steps, playing with makeshift paper dolls and animals to pass the time.

You wondered if anyone saw you, but the thought of someone recognizing you never crossed your mind. While your mother advised you to stay out of mortal affairs, there was something pulling you towards the coffin, urging you to stay.

It did not take long for your heart to break.

Tears pricked your eyes as you gazed at the little girl laying inside the wooden box. You remembered her youthful spirit and jovial smile as she would sit under your favorite tree, weaving flower crowns and sharing fruit with some of the wildlife that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs and dryads spoke fondly of her whenever she visited the lake, and a few times, you remembered picking up the blooming flowers that she left behind as an offering.

Overcome with grief, you placed your hand over hers, whispering words of assurance and comfort to her. Her skin was cold to touch, but you did not shy away as you left behind a small white lily in her embrace.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, you immediately stepped aside. You assumed the man who approached the coffin to be her father as you watched him place the coins over her eyes, whispering to his daughter in their native tongue with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Your heart ached for the girl and her family as you watched them gather around her coffin. No one noticed you while you walked away, following the fallen petals of dried flowers to guide you back to the world below.

It was as if nothing changed since your brief departure. The ferryman merely watched you with apathetic eyes when you returned, his boat filled with souls as he carried them over the Styx.

You did not meet with Miguel that day, but as you wandered the Isles of the Blessed, you heard a familiar voice ring in the air.

Not wanting to be seen or scolded for wandering off, you quickly hid behind a tree. Peeking from behind the trunk, your heart warmed to see that same little girl playing in the field with a man holding her hand.

Miguel.

You watched as he knelt down to her height, a gentle look on his face as he held her hands. You could not hear what they were saying, but from the smile on her face, you knew that he was nothing but kind and gentle with her as she adjusted to her new life in Elysium.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Gabriella.”

“Gabriella,” your husband repeated as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. His fingers paused over the lily tucked behind her ear. “This is a beautiful flower you have in your hair.”

She smiled as she removed it from her ear and offered it to him.

“I had it with me when the ferryman took me here. I don’t remember how I got it, but he told me to keep it.”

You held your breath as Miguel held the lily in his hand. It was not unusual for flowers to spring wherever you went, and you wondered if he knew that you snuck into the mortal realm under his watch.

To your surprise, he smiled at her as he tucked the lily back in her hair.

“He was right. You should keep it.”

You have not seen Gabriella since that day, but you never forgot her. Whenever you walked near the Isles of the Blessed, you could hear her laugh in the wind with the river twinkling in the shape of her smile.

His question hangs frozen mid-air as the snow crystallizes around you.

Did you believe the horrid tales, after what you have seen?

His eyes search yours as the two of you stand under the shadow of the earth, its roots tangling around you.

Of all the myths and legends you heard about Miguel, it would be easy to sway you into believing he was an apathetic man who ruled the land of the dead. He stole you away from spring, but in the decades that followed since your marriage, you realized that not once did he ever try to hold you back. There were countless times you snuck away into the mortal realm, and every time he could have held you back or ordered the hounds to follow you. Yet, he never did.

Perhaps you have judged him too harshly before learning about the man beneath the mask. While a part of you still resented him for the marriage, you could not bring yourself to truly hate him.

“I would have,” you answer him quietly, “once upon a December.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, amusement briefly flickering across his eyes as the ghost of a smile tickles his lips.

In the mirror above, snow continues to fall like kisses from the earth. Its kisses leave droplets on your skin, but as you turn to your husband, you could count the snowflakes like stars in the night sky as they melt into his dark hair and brown skin.

It was one of those rare moments where there was nothing and no one else in the world but the two of you. While Miguel was known to mortals under a different name and had a duty to follow in his realm, he gave you freedom to roam his world as you pleased without fear. You were his queen, and he treated you as such in his own quiet way.

While he kept you at arm’s length, you were no fool.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The cavern almost seemed to engulf him as the moonlight shined upon him. Whispers of snow glistened in his hair, and the perpetual scowl on his lips appeared to soften the longer he gazed at the sky.

He pauses, calculating his words.

“Long before the mortals named me, I stumbled upon this place by chance. It is safe to presume that the deepest depths of the Underworld to be a frightening place of terror and grief, but it is more than what the legends say.”

Miguel takes a step forward until he is directly underneath the center of the mirror. Behind him, the outlines of a tree stretched its branches around him with its root tangling your shadow with his.

The wind continues to howl like a wounded wolf in the dead of night. While the mortals would call this place Tartarus, it was not what you imagined.

A deep ache settles in your chest, its roots ensnaring the heart in your ribs as the winter breeze fills your lungs with sharp knives of ice.

“Only once in a blue moon could I walk into the world above, but here … it is the only way I could see the mortal realm without leaving mine behind.”

His eyes seem to mist in the moonlight, and your heart softens. The fortress of the castle he built around him begins to crumble, and for the first time, you see the lone king that resides within the darkness of its walls.

The longing of the sun, the yearning for something warm, for someone to hold.

As you look up at the mirror, you remember a time when you wandered the meadow in your youth and stumbled upon a stream where the carrion birds often flocked to. The nymphs, dryads, and your overbearing mother advised you to never venture near the river, but your youthful curiosity overcame you against their best wishes.

The birds followed your movements as you stepped towards the river. Dark clouds gathered in the sky above with thunder rumbling in the distance, but you remained steadfast. White peace lilies and roses bloomed underneath your feet as you fell to your knees to peer into the murky waters beneath.

Darkness swirled around your reflection as you gazed at the water below. The longer you looked, the more confused you were as you tried to decipher what lurked underneath the surface. What could cause the dryads and nymphs to urge you to stay away from this place? What worried your mother that you found a secret beneath?

You never told them about the river, nor did you ever return since that day, but as you look up at the familiar mirror above you, you wonder if the forbidden river drifted into the Styx. Perhaps the carrion birds were the ones who guarded the river in the mortal realm.

Perhaps as you wondered and peered into the dark waters, another face watched you from below.

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts, urging you to look at him.

“I know a part of you must resent me for taking you away from your mother — and I do not blame you for it — but this…” He gestures to the mirror above, a soft expression relaxing the curves of his face, “is the only way we could see into the mortal universe. If I could bring a piece of the mortal world to you, it is the least I can do.”

Snow continues to fall with the winter winds howling around the two of you, causing a small flurry of snow to surround your two bodies. Frost begins to crystallize at your feet, indicating the official arrival of winter in the world above.

Your husband illuminates in the moonlight, a serene glow casted across his frame as he keeps his gaze on the sky. The corners of his lips curve into a lazy smile, and you could not help but think back to all the legends and myths you were taught about him, and the river that your mother warned you to stay away from.

If this was the face that watched you from below, how could you despise him for bringing a piece of your world back to you, especially when he was not welcome in the light?

“It is the winter solstice in the mortal world,” you tell him softly. The sky darkens above you, but you do not feel the cold as much anymore, not with the snowdrops beginning to surface from the frost. “The shortest day and the longest night of the year.”

You wonder what flowers would bloom in the spheres of the universe, what sky and stars the mortals see as they bask in the moonlight. While your marriage to the god of the Underworld dictated the seasons above, you lived long enough to know that the worlds above adjusted to your absence or presence in their own ways.

The first winter you spent in the Underworld, you were inconsolable. While Miguel tried to comfort you, you were distraught, crying tears of anguish into your pillow as the darkness surrounded you. For the first time, no flowers bloomed where you stepped or where you lay. Instead, only roseless thorns and weeds gathered where you walked, and in the world above, it was the worst harvest the mortals have seen in decades.

While your parents argued with your husband about the conditions and length of your stay, you blocked out their voices. The only sounds you heard were your cracks splintering through your heart as you mourned the warmth of the sun and the endless blue sky. As much as Miguel tried to coax you out of your chambers and into the dark gardens of his kingdom, you planted your roots into the ground, refusing to be anywhere near him.

Only for the winter, your father proposed. Your mother wept by his side, but your husband nodded in agreement, sealing your fate as swiftly as the seasons changed.

It took some time, but throughout the first few years of your marriage, you began to be civil with Miguel. Much like him, you kept him at arm’s length, watching him and trying to understand what kind of king he was to his subjects in the world below. While you heard the whispering lore and legends of him in your ears, you soon learned that he was not everything that the people believed him to be.

A cloud storms in his brown irises as he looks over at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “If I may ask, are you happy here?”

A bitter laugh threatens to spill from your lips, but you quickly bite your tongue.

It has been decades since you were taken to rule the world below. While you may not have lived long enough to control your godly emotions, you still felt an aching pain and loss as you grieved leaving your home.

“I did not have a choice in becoming your bride,” you answer, your voice laden with sadness and despair. “What say do I have as your wife?”

You were a younger goddess who lived only a couple centuries, but you had yet to learn the complexities of the universe. You still needed to experience the worlds around you, both above and below, but your maidenhood was cut short by the man your father arranged to be your husband.

Even with the decades behind you, time had yet to fully heal the part of your heart that grieved for your maidenhood. You were conflicted in your grief and loss when Miguel had been cordial and respectful, in his own sentimental way. A part of you may resent him, but you still did not completely understand the feelings you held towards him.

His brown eyes soften at your words, his lips slightly parted as white cotton clouds flutter in the air from his breath.

“You are not a prisoner here,” he assures you gently, approaching you as if you were a skittish deer in the woods. “I am truly sorry for the pain I brought upon you.”

You look up at him slowly, seeing nothing but remorse in his gaze. You wonder if he would ask for your forgiveness, but it was too late for that. It has been half a century since your marriage, and the world already recorded the event in the stars and the sky.

Miguel was a man of many things, but you know in his eyes, he is lawful. With the living and the dead, he merely rules over the departed to balance the universes. He only follows the rules of nature, but in godly matters, he follows the customs and traditions. A marriage only needs a father’s blessing for his daughter to be wedded without the husband needing to court or ask the bride. He broke no laws, but he did not fully understand the depths of your grief.

His voice is gentle as the winds quiet around him.

“I know it will take time for you to fully accept me as your husband, but I am a patient man. All I ask and plead is for you to give me a chance.”

The winter winds pull the air out of your lungs as Miguel turns with his hand outstretched towards you.

As you grieved the sudden end of your maidenhood, you reflect on everything you have seen. The gods and goddesses may indulge in heresy and scandals whenever they pleased, but from what you learned from their whispers, some of their stories did not reflect what you have seen.

The god of the dead was not cruel, nor was he kind. He often deals in absolutes and ultimatums, with the universes remaining in balance as he ruled over his domain.

Even so, you remember Gabriella’s smile as he held her hand in Elysium. A child taken too soon, but found comfort in the man who guided her to the Isles of the Blessed.

Perhaps he was kinder than you believed.

Snow gathers in his palm as he holds his hand towards you. It would be easier for you to turn away and loathe him for the rest of your days, but something stirs in your heart.

Darkness may have taken its hold over the mortal realm, but it has not fully consumed yours.

Your fate is already written in the stars, your marriage bound in a godly affair. While you are still a younger goddess in a single web of the universe, perhaps it would do you no harm to trim the thorns that protected you and allow a rose to bloom.

Slowly, you take his hand, his skin oddly warm against yours.

Your husband smiles gently at you and raises your hand to his lips.

“I promise to love and care for you,” he whispers, “as long as you are by my side.”

Snowdrops and hydrangeas begin to bloom from the frost that dusted the ground beneath you, tangling with the roots of the tree as you walk beside him, allowing him to guide you away from the moonlight and towards the river from where you came.

A comfortable silence falls upon you as Miguel rows the boat along the Styx, the water calm and quiet on the journey away from the darkness. The winter winds begin to fade into a distant echo, and as much as you wish to turn back to gaze at the world above one more time, you keep your eyes forward.

The winter solstice may have begun in the mortal realm, but the spring solstice has begun to blossom in the world below.

And in the depths of the Underworld, the tree that holds the mirror above sprouts a single crimson fruit, a small pomegranate in the start of spring.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x woc!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman-2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #spiderman 2099 imagine

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13rurururi · 10 months

Note

Can I request head-cannons on how the Hantengu clones deal with their shared female crush and how they confess to her. Along with what it’s like to date them? :)

Russian Roulette: Hantengu Clones x Reader (SFW Headcanons & Imagines)

Pairing/s: Sekido x Reader, Aizetsu x Reader, Karaku x Reader, Urogi x Reader

Content: female reader, jealousy, the demons fighting over you, etc.

Synopsis: Despite their clashing personalities, the four clones of Hantengu always upheld their ultimate goal of serving the Demon King. Aside from their loyalty and shared blood, they never entertained the possibility of having anything else in common — that was until they met you, an ambitious demon slayer that they can't get off their minds. In other words, they have a crush on you, and you've never been so conflicted in your life.

Being a demon slayer involves plenty of sacrifices and hardships that warrant unshakeable mental strength. You've lived your life with the threat of death looming at the back of your head, yet you only continue to hone your sharpened sword with a mask of courage and certainty.

One day, you arrive at the well-hidden Swordsmith Village to have your chipped blade repaired; unfortunately, your supposedly peaceful time at the hot springs is interrupted by swarms of killer goldfishes and four — annoyingly attractive — clones of the weeping, whining demon.

You release a battle cry as you witness your comrades get swept away by a strong blast of wind unleashed by the demon equipped with a fan. At this point, you were alone, knuckles whitening due to the swift build-up of rage and anxiety pooling in your stomach.

You unsheathe your katana, adapting a steady stance amidst the four demons who peered at you with their piercing, colored eyes.

However, you notice something quite odd hidden behind their peculiar gazes. Behind the kanji of "Upper Moon" and "Four," you curiously note a humane emotion that is rarely attributed to demons. Your instincts turn cogs in your head, and you arrive at a bewildering thought that sent a shiver through your body:

The four demons you are tasked to kill seem to be enamored with you.

SEKIDO

Something other than infuriation is stuck in his throat.

He will be in great denial when it comes to his infatuation for you.

He's a demon that is so straight-laced and strict; he never entertained the possibility of a developing a crush.

He'll be blushing a hue that could match the tint of his eyes — fiery red. He'll feverishly deny it, though.

If he is close to you in proximity, he'll turn so stiff and rigidly cling onto his staff, not uttering a word. This makes you think he dislikes you, but he's so enamored with you that he's actually rendered speechless.

If he manages to get over his raging anxiety when it comes to talking to you, he'll confess to you, very ambiguously.

You'll be confused if it was a declaration of love or war — his flustered expression and clamoring hands betray him, though, and you'll gently take his hand in yours, understanding settling in your chest.

It takes a while for him to truly shed off his stiffness and awkwardness; in time, he is quite the clingy lover. He ensures to always be by your side as you go sightseeing or stroll under the bright moonlight.

He enjoys quality time with you, after all.

Your first kiss is messy, a little awkward yet full of genuinely potent feelings. He smiles as his lips are pressed onto yours, grateful to be the man that will protect you for the rest of your mortal life.

The rage sitting on his tongue tasted different the moment he laid his eyes on you. He is a demon that gawks out consistent, clear orders to his fellow clones (who he considers as absolute buffoons that don't take their duties seriously).

However, he uncharacteristically wavers when he sees your subtly shivering form in front of him. He gulps and muffles a conflicted growl under his breath, stealing a glance at the other three, who seem to be as intrigued as he is.

What are you? His erratic mind considers the possibility of you being a Marechi, but he quickly dismisses that thought when he realizes that you are not wounded or bleeding in any way.

That's good —

Wait. Did he really feel relief when he confirmed your safety? He is a demon, for crying out loud!

His head spun with a mixture of confusion and rage towards the uncomfortable thump in his chest. What makes you so different, and why do you engulf his thoughts and bloodstream as if you were in control of him?

Whatever such an unfamiliar feeling may be, it should not deter him from accomplishing his duties under Muzan's orders; however, he couldn't bring himself to electrocute you.

Damn it. He harshly grits his teeth in realization: he wants to keep you alive and safe — you're too damn interesting to kill off. Sekido is undoubtedly in denial of his developing infatuation for you.

Unfortunately, his stubbornness prevents him from even approaching your glowering, quaking figure. He remains rooted on the same spot, opting to simply intensely gaze at you from afar.

KARAKU

His whole body tingles with excitement at your mere presence — you're so pleasing to look at.

He is an expressive suitor, and he spoils you with gifts and trinkets that remind him of you. Yes, his love language is gift giving.

Even if you appear closed-off, he will remain persistent yet patient. You wake up to various snacks, jewelry, and love letters scattered across your room.

You initially think that his feelings for you are superficial, but little did you know, no one has ever made Karaku's heart pump as loudly and powerfully as you.

You are already aware of his infatuation for you, but he still opts to declare his desire to be in a relationship with you through an immensely romantic gesture: rose petals scattered around a garden, lanterns sparkling brightly amidst the dark night, and an entrée of your favorite meals stacked on a tree stump.

He hates human food, as do any other demon, but he still makes an effort to ensure your happiness and satisfaction.

You may think his efforts diminish once you accept his proposal, yet it only heightens and strengthens.

You realize he truly loves you when he showcases how consistent, attentive, and patient he is. Even if you aren't always partaking in fun, exciting, and heart-pumping activities, Karaku is more than happy to be by your side.

You are his greatest pleasure, after all.

Cute, cute, cute! You are the cutest, prettiest little thing he has ever seen.

To him, you appear as a shiny, new plaything that could relieve him of his boredom. The night is still young, and he would love to spend it with you.

He remembers the hot springs by the slope of the mountains. His green-tinted eyes shine in excitement. If he invites you, would you come? He'll spare your life in exchange for a date!

He's much more straightforward and accepting of his feelings due to his insatiable nature that seeks novel and exciting experiences. He believes you could be the next best thing to happen to him after hundreds of years. Be a dear and accept his proposal, would you?

He approaches you cheerily, putting away his fan-like weapons. You step away and remain guarded, which only makes Karaku pout at you flippantly.

"Aww, don't be shy now. I won't hurt you if you agree to soak with me in the hot springs. How about that, pretty?"

He ignores the heated gazes aimed at his head by the other three behind him, well-aware that all of them feel a shared, unexplainable attraction to you.

The smirk on Karaku's face doesn't waver as he steps closer once more, and to his delight, you don't widen the distance between you and his tall, muscular figure.

Standing mere inches away from you, Karaku observes you with curious eyes — you're so cute with your quivering lips, dilated pupils, and glaring expression. You are unable to repress the shiver that runs through your veins when he licks his lips as he stares at yours.

Karaku is quite expressive with his evident infatuation for you, and he shortly sighs at the imagery of you and him entangled in one another in the hot springs. It's an unfamiliar feeling, but he is accepting of everything new and exciting. In this case, the new and exciting is none other than you.

Opting to close the inches of distance between you, he raises his free hand to caress your face; however, before he can make any contact with you, his movement is ceased with a firm grasp on his forearm—

Aizetsu?

AIZETSU

He wants to rid of all the sadness in your soul.

He shows his affection towards you through attentive and caring actions.

He isn't verbally expressive, and he oftentimes averts his gaze away from you if you catch him staring.

With how reserved he appears (paired with the tiny frown that settles firmly on his mouth), you initially assumed that he is indifferent towards you.

However, his actions speak louder than words — whenever you strain yourself too much, he quietly offers to massage the tension away from your shoulders; when you have a subtle downcast expression behind your smiles, he instantly picks up on it and sits you down, gently intertwining his fingers in yours.

"You can talk to me; I'm here to listen."

He is an amazing listener, and he will never pressure you into accepting him as your lover.

In fact, you're the one who decides to propose to him, assuring him that you return his feelings in the same magnitude.

His lips would quiver, and his his eyes would widen in surprise for a fraction of a second. Then — to your immense shock — he smiles. His smile is gentle, soft, and warm — a testament to his affection for you.

Once you begin dating, the trust you have for each other only deepens, and many sweet secrets and burdensome tales are shared between you.

You've never felt so safe with someone before, and you're certain that he'll love you no matter the circumstance; you will never be a burden to him.

You are the sole warmth of his gloomy heart, after all.

The constant whir of depressive thoughts seem to halt for a brief moment. His downturned eyes and furrowed brows twitch in awe at the mere sight of you.

You are so magnetic.

He silently gapes at you from where he stood, realizing that you have entranced the others as much as you've enticed him. He catches Sekido swallow a flustered expression and Karaku approach you with overflowing excitement in his jovial movements.

Aizetsu remains in a trance of bewildering yet intriguing emotions; however, seeing Karaku raise his hand to grasp you makes him instinctively — in a nearly primal response — sprint towards you, ceasing Karaku's hand from even touching a hair on your body.

"What do you think you're doing?" Karaku's carefree expression melts away, now replaced with restrained annoyance that slips through his voice.

"A lady under stress cannot give you proper consent to touch her," Aizetsu calmly yet firmly declares, releasing his uncharacteristically tight grip on his fellow demon's forearm.

"Hah!? Who are you to say what's right or not — you're a damn demon, for crying out loud! You're always so boring as hell, Aizetsu!" With each sentence, Karaku's chipper voice grew into a deeper, rougher bark.

You notice him curl his fists into a ball, veins bulging out due to irrepressible pressure. Aizetsu faces him calmly, his ever-present frown deepening.

Are these demons — clones of the Upper Moon Four — about to fight each other over you?

As you stand there with a flabbergasted expression replacing your initial look of determination, Aizetsu cranes his neck to gaze at you; his gaze softens.

"I'm so sorry you have to witness this. It saddens me to see you in great distress."

Your mouth gapes at his polite and genuine tone. Before you could utter some sort of response, the demon adorned with massive wings interrupted the bubbling confrontation.

UROGI

He'd sacrifice his joy if it means you could live your life in eternal happiness.

His flippant personality turns down a notch once he realizes his attraction towards you.

He doesn't want you to think that he's pursuing you out of boredom.

However, he gets a little too overwhelmed with bursts of happiness circulating throughout his body when he's near you.

For the most part, you bear witness to him intently ogling at you with dilated pupils, wings fluttering in intermittent jitters.

He's like a puppy! Well, he has the literal anatomy of an eagle, yet you can't help but internally swoon at his dog-like mannerisms.

If you invite him to spend time with you under the stars, it's with utmost certainty that he agrees with unhidden glee.

He gets so wholesomely joyful when you reciprocate his display of affection.

He is quite the smooth-talker, tongue always prepared with a quip that makes you burst in wheezing laughter.

He's also well-equipped when it comes to comforting you with soothing affirmations of love and comfort. You can't help but fall into his strong embrace as he whispers promises of a better tomorrow.

When he engulfs you in a hug, his wings act as another layer of warmth and protection, making you melt deeper into his body as you sigh in contentment.

You establish a relationship without even needing a direct confession — which you initially found ironic, considering how his words and tender touches were the main driving force of your intimacy.

In the end, your presence fills him with indescribable happiness, and he would spend the rest of his life ensuring that you feel the same sensation of joy.

For the first time in his centuries as a demon, he feels the smile plastered on his face falter. Why, why, why — why are the other demons obviously enticed by your presence?

When you caught his gaze, he felt a cold shiver rush through the span of his body, up to the tips of his wings. It is terrifyingly unfamiliar, yet he wishes to feel more of the ecstasy your mere existence makes him feel.

He wants you all to himself — he wants to grasp you by your waist and fly you above the clouds. He wants to feel your warm palms pressed against his chest as he flies through gorgeous sceneries that he wishes to witness with you.

However, that's easier said than done.

Sekido — that annoying stick-in-the-mud — is quiet in deep contemplation for once in his life. Apart from that, you are currently in between a raging Karaku and an uncommonly unyielding Aizetsu.

Urogi feels his talons chip at the coarse dirt below him, and as if he cannot bear to see the shadow of fear in your eyes any longer, he slacks his jaw and screams.

His attack won't harm the demons around him; after all, they share the same cells, but it still effectively brings the attention to him and away from you. He wants to give you a moment to breathe, and you somehow deduce the intent of his gesture from the slight crinkle of his bright eyes.

Urogi's head-splitting screech results in all four demons glowering at one another. A realization settles in the air and a twinge of possessiveness and unbridled desire become potent.

No words are spoken, yet they all seem to finally comprehend the situation: they all want you, and you won't be shared. The cells in their bodies furiously screech in yearning for your touch, attention, and entirety. It was a terribly atypical feeling, but who are they to restrain themselves from attaining satiety? They're demons, after all, and they want you — even if it means fighting each other.

It felt like forever until all four pairs of eyes gazed at you once more. A painful rush of fear, confusion, and anticipation courses through your body. However, before you could regain a fighting stance, the one with the blood-red eyes spoke,

"Slayer, we have decided to settle our differences in private. Until then, know that we will be returning, and one of us will take you as our lover."

You simply leave your jaw hanging low, rendered speechless by the bewildering declaration. You hear the distant shouts of Tanjiro and your fellow slayers, and you turn your head towards the direction of their presence for a mere second, quickly gazing back at the demons —

They're gone.

The field is left empty and you are left baffled in a spiral of conflicting emotions. You feel your legs wobble, and you fall to your knees. Your heart hammers in your chest as you heave loudly at the demons' intentions:

They will be back, and one of them will take you — a human — as their bride.

A/N: I tested out a new format involving (hopefully) discernable switches from headcanons to imagines. The bulleted points are basically the clones daydreaming about dating you — they're simping, for real.

Anyway, I hope it's to your liking, Anon, even if I diverged a little from your request. I just wanted to see some internal conflict from the Hantengu clones, hehe. Maybe in another life — another post — they could be reincarnated into the modern era and actually spend time with you.

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

Text

Russian Roulette

Pairing | Mitch Rapp x reader

Summary | Assassin!reader won’t talk. mitch knows just what to do to fix that Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, gun play, fear play, degradation, cnc (barely), breeding, face fucking, crying, edging, light praise, choking, brat taming, deep throating, Words | 8k Notes | Here it is folks! The long awaited russian roulette fic😌 I do plan to edit this again and republish it in the future but I’m happy with it for now. Enjoy!! (p.s. I’m more likely to post stuff that isn’t completely perfect in my eyes (even tho it’s literally still good lmao) if I have positive reinforcement😭 just an fyi if y’all want more💀) Ao3 link | <3 Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple mission. One you’ve done hundreds of times by now.

Seduce the target, then kill the target.

Every mission, your boss gives you a name, picture, location, and time. That’s how you found yourself at a hotel bar, wearing a skimpy dress and strappy heels, waiting for Mitch Rapp.

You’re excited for this one. Usually the men are either old perverts or young, inexperienced, and cocky. But every once in a while there'd be a man who’d challenge you. A man who made the game exciting. And Mitch seems like that kind of man.

You sipped your drink and looked around the bar. Finally you saw him walk in. He went to the opposite side of the bar and ordered a drink. When he looked up, he caught your eyes. You didn’t look away and just gave him a small smile. His face was emotionless but you didn’t let that deter you. You leaned forward with your elbows on the bar, pushing your breasts together, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. When his drink was set in front of him, he grabbed it then started walking toward you, making you laugh internally. Men are so easy.

“Hi.” You said, setting your drink down after he sat next to you.

“Hi.” His voice definitely matches his face.

“I’m Evelyn.” You lied.

“Dylan.” He lied as well. Your targets were rarely smart enough to use a fake name, usually too focused on your tits and the promise of a good fuck instead.

“Do you live around here?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“No. I’m here on business.” He took a sip of his drink and looked you up and down, this time spending more time on your legs.

“Oh me too. Well, business and then a little vacation time before I have to go back.” Which was another lie. You never stay anywhere right after a mission. “Although I do have time for some fun before I have to work.” You gave him a small smirk and crossed your legs, making your dress ride up your thigh.

“Oh yeah? How much time?”

“Probably a couple hours. My boss is flexible.” Lie. He hates when you’re late. But you’re horny and, target or not, there’s a hot man in front of you. He can wait a little longer than planned.

“What do you say, Dylan? Wanna keep me company for a few hours?” You set your hand on his thigh lightly. When you started sliding it up, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers completely encircling it. Probably to keep you from finding a concealed weapon.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He said lowly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” You leaned your face closer to his and felt his grip on your wrist tighten.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered, breath fanning against his lips. His eyes roamed your face for a few seconds before suddenly using his grip to pull you from your seat, over to the elevator. You’re thankful your purse was already on your shoulder because you definitely wouldn’t have remembered to grab it… And you definitely need it to finish the mission. Not that you can’t kill someone without a gun, it’s just easier.

You entered the elevator and he pushed the button for his floor. When the doors closed he slammed your back against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, making you moan in surprise. His hands gripped your waist tightly and yours went to his hair. He kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. When he rolled his hips into you, you pulled back with a gasp. He was quick to move to your neck, pressing kisses and leaving hickeys along the sides. You moaned again and his hand snaked down your leg then up your dress on the outside of your thigh.

“Oh my god!”

You both pulled away quickly. An older lady stood outside the elevator with her mouth open in shock. You hadn’t even heard the elevator ding. Mitch checked the floor number then swiftly exited, pulling you behind him.

“Sorry.” You gave the lady a sheepish smile as you walked past her. You entered his room quickly and he slammed you against the wall again. When his lips met yours, you started trying to push his jacket off his shoulders. He obliged then pulled back to take his shirt off.

You were too horny to think about what the proper reply should be when someone has scars like this. Maybe that’s what gave you away.

He pulled your purse off your shoulder and threw it on the dresser next to you. You internally cringed when it landed with a really loud thump, seeing as your phone and gun are both in it.

He kissed you again and started sliding both of his hands up the outside of your thighs, this time making sure to pull your dress up. He placed his leg between yours and you stifled a moan. When he bit your lip, you gave in, starting to grind on his thigh. His hands reached your hips and he gripped them tightly, forcing you to continue rocking against him.

Mitch moved to your neck again, leaving more hickeys and occasionally biting the sensitive skin. He reached your collar bones and continued down your chest but pulled back when he reached your dress. He looked at you with dark eyes then placed his hand on your neck. You gasped and started rutting against him harder.

He leaned his head down next to yours, putting his mouth by your ear, then whispered, “Who are you?”

“W-what?” You didn’t register the question, still focusing on grinding against him. He leaned back to look at you and tightened his hand on your neck, making you release a choked moan.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your hips stuttered to a stop. Shit. They never figure it out until there’s a gun to their head. Maybe he means something else. “Who do you work for?” He said, harsher this time.

Okay so he definitely doesn’t mean something else. Fuck. He slammed your head against the wall and you winced.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dylan, you’re scaring me.” You said quietly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He growled. He tightened his grip, and even pushed on your windpipe, making you claw at his hand, trying to remove it.

“You’re hurting me.” You whimpered, feeling tears pool in your eyes from the lack of oxygen. “Dylan, please.” You gasped, letting the tears fall- all of it adding to your performance. His grip loosened and your chest heaved, trying to take in as much air as possible. Finally you caught your breath and then made your move- it’s too risky to stay in this position when you don’t know what he’s capable of.

You punched him in the nose and he stumbled back, clearly surprised. You ran the couple of steps to reach for your purse but were yanked back by your hair until you landed on the ground in front of him, his gun aimed at your head.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice harsher now.

There are three ways you can play this. Accept your fate, continue with the act and hope you fool him, or fight and finish the assignment. In reality, there was only one option because of your ego.

“Honestly I’m surprised you figured it out so soon. Most of them don’t until they’re already dead.” You smirked, looking up at him. “Although the few that do figure it out usually are smart enough to try and get their dick wet before doing anything.” His face remained emotionless and it only spurred you on.

“What gave me away?” You started taking off your heels, preparing for a fight or a quick escape. “C’mon Mitch,” You continued when he didn’t reply, “I gotta know how to improve for my next job.”

“Who are you?” You kept looking up at him and moved onto your knees, not giving him an answer. Suddenly, his gun hit your temple, the force making you fall onto your hip. You brought your hand up to feel the injury, no blood at least but it’ll definitely bruise.

“Fucking, dick! What was that for?”

“It’s going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don’t start answering my questions.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” He cocked the gun and held it closer to your head making you chuckle. “You won’t do that.”

“Why’s that?” He deadpanned.

“Because your dick’s still hard.” You whispered, placing a hand on his bulge, waiting for him to remove it. He looked you up and down and you could only imagine what you look like right now. Because based on what you can feel, your dress is dangerously low on your chest and high on your thighs, and not to mention the number of hickeys you probably have. He put his gun in the waistband of his pants behind him and you smirked triumphantly.

Mitch crouched in front of you and you tried to plan how you could grab either his gun off him or your own. One hand fisted your hair and roughly pulled your head back, making you gasp.

“I’m going to ask you again. And I’m going to keep asking and hurting you more and more until you finally tell me.”

“Who are you?” You kept your mouth shut and stared at him. He removed his hand from your hair to land a swift punch on your cheek before grabbing it again. The dull throbbing hurt like hell but you kept your poker face.

“Who do you work for?” When you didn’t answer, he punched you twice this time. You could taste the blood in your mouth and you debated spitting it in his face.

“You’re wasting your time. You might as well just kill me.” You wiped off some blood you felt dripping on the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trained to endure every type of torture in the book.” He examined you again but this time you grew nervous under his gaze. Finally he hummed and stood up.

“You’re right. I’m going about this all wrong.”

“What?” You barely got the word out before he grabbed your hair again, lifting you off the floor and throwing you onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing??” You scrambled backwards to the head of the bed when he started moving toward you.

“Luckiky for you, I know a type of torture that’s not in the book. Take your dress off.”

“W- no!” He sighed and got on the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you until you laid on your back. Mitch grabbed the hem of your dress and ripped it in half easily. You wanted to be angry with him so badly… but the horny part of your brain is outweighing any logic right now.

He pulled the shreds of fabric off your body until you were left in just underwear- foregoing a bra earlier because of the dress’s low back.

Mitch straddled your hips and placed a hand on your neck, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You closed your eyes, waiting, but you only felt his breath fan against your lips as he chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now.” He rasped. His hand moved up to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. “What do you say when I’m being so generous?”

Fuck you. Is what you wanted to say.

“Thank you…” You muttered, looking at the wall next to you. You assumed Mitch was satisfied because he released your face and sat up. He dragged his nails down your ribs and you hissed at the sting. Finally he reached your underwear.

“Such a fucking slut.” He mumbled under his breath and you bit your tongue. “No bra and this pathetic excuse for underwear? Baby, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?” He cooed. You wanted to beat the patronizing tone right out of him, but you couldn’t help the reaction you actually had. He smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together beneath him.

Mitch grabbed your underwear and ripped it in half, a lot easier than your dress. He removed the fabric and you started squirming under him. His hands held your hips still and his thumb brushed across your mound, teasing you. You bucked your hips and whined.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you want something?” You glared at him and his smirk returned.

“You know, if you don’t know how to please a woman you can just say that. You don’t have to drag it out and stall.” His smirk immediately turned into a scowl and he raised his hand to hit you again but froze when he heard an unfamiliar phone go off. He got off you and you started to sit up but he grabbed his gun, pointing it at you.

“Stay.”

You rolled your eyes at the command. He grabbed your purse from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, gun still aimed at you.

“That’s my boss probably wondering where I am.” You said when the ringing stopped.

“I thought you said he’s flexible.”

“I lied.”

The ringing started again and he pulled the phone out of your purse. He looked at the unknown number then to you.

“You’re going to answer and you’re going to lie. Otherwise it’s a bullet in your head. Understand?” You nodded and he answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“What’s taking so long?” He snapped.

“I’m just wrapping up. I’ll be in tomorrow instead of tonight… This guy was a lot more trained than you said.”

“You better not have slept with him again-“

“That literally happened one time and I still finished the assignment. How many more times are you going to bring it up?” You asked, very annoyed and wanting to get back to Mitch. Speaking of him, you looked up at him and saw his eyebrows were raised. You just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“Don’t be late.” The call abruptly ended and you found yourself wondering why you had covered for him. You’re not afraid to die… but it was almost instinctual to lie to your boss and that scared you. Because if Mitch had the power to make you do that… what else could he make you do?

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. He tossed your phone on the floor then continued digging through your purse. He pulled out your revolver and smirked.

“Cute.”

“Yeah I bet you’ll think it’s really cute when one of those bullets goes through dick-“

“Watch your fucking mouth. That’s your final warning.”

“Or what?” You challenged him. He set your gun on the bed behind him and kneeled over your hips again.

“Open.” You kept your mouth shut as tight as possible and he sighed. Mitch grabbed your cheeks and forced your jaw down then slid his gun into your mouth. You gagged at the taste and tried to get away from it but he was practically holding your head down. When you gagged again, this time it was because he shoved it further into your mouth. You felt tears well up in your eyes, then fall down your temples.

“Poor baby, crying over a few inches. How do you think you’re going to take my cock if you can’t even take this, hm?” You attempted to whine around the gun but it just sounded like a garbled moan. Mitch fucked his gun in and out of your mouth slowly and you continued to squirm under him.

“Careful, baby. One wrong move and I could accidentally pull the trigger. We don’t want that now do we?” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, your body going stiff.

“There you go.” He purred. You continued gagging and crying, just wanting to be done with this part already.

“Take it.” He uttered softly. After a few more long seconds he removed it, a trail of saliva connecting the barrel and your lips. You coughed and tried to catch your breath, then looked up at him through your lashes, your lips were slightly parted as you panted.

He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek. You tried not to read into it when you leaned your head against his palm. His thumb wiped the remainder of your tears, then moved down to trace your lips. He just barely put his thumb in your mouth when you closed your lips around it and sucked lightly. You swirled your tongue around his finger, then opened your lips slightly. He removed his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down on the way out.

Your thighs were squeezed together and you bucked your hips before you could stop yourself. He chuckled and removed his hand from your face, groping your breasts instead. You gasped when he pinched your nipples and then winced when he tugged even harder.

“Ow.” You mumbled. He ignored you and did it again. “You know, you don’t have to be so rough with it. It feels perfectly fine when you do it lighter.”

“Oh I know. But here’s the thing,” He leaned down in front of your face, “I’m not trying to make you feel good, and I especially don’t care if it feels good or not.” He glanced at your lips, then leaned back up.

“I’m going to keep hurting you. And if your slutty little head can’t tell the difference, that’s not my fault.” He shrugged and you pouted.

“There’s not even a small part of you that wants to make me feel good?” You looked up at him through your lashes. His hands grabbed your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach.

“You know, usually when someone tries to kill me… that’s not a very good incentive for me to pleasure them.” You just rolled your eyes.

“But I understand why you’re confused, baby.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Because we both know you’re not leaving here alive and yet, I’d bet you’re all too willing and eager to please me.” You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say am I wrong?

“Tough luck.” You snickered, feeling his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m a pillow princess. So I’m perfectly content right here.” You smirked and tilted your head slightly from its place on the pillows, as if to give him a physical example of just how content you are. He gripped your neck in one hand, the other holding himself up on the bed next to your shoulder while he leaned over you.

“That may be true, but even as a pillow princess I can tell you’d do just about anything for some praise.” You felt your cheeks heat up at that. There’s no way you’re this easy to read…?

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t loved enough by my daddy and now I’ll do anything a man asks in bed? Is that it?” You said sarcastically.

“No I don’t think it’s that.” Mitch tilted his head, studying you. “I think, being a female assassin, you rarely get the recognition and praise that you deserve. So you crave it in other forms.” You swallowed, your neck moving under his palm.

“What is this, a fucking therapy session?” You spat, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“No.” He smirked. “I’m just having some fun by getting under your skin.”

“Or are you just stalling cause you’ve never been with a woman before?” You flashed an innocent smile as his hand tightened on your neck. “Or is it that you can’t get it up? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mitch. Impotence isn’t uncommon.” You feigned seriousness, almost laughing at his expression.

Eventually though, he just chuckled darkly and your stomach dropped a little. He grabbed your ripped underwear and shoved it in your mouth. You looked at him with wide eyes, but before you could do anything, his hand was leaving your neck and sliding down your stomach. He reached your leg and traced over your hip bone, not going down any farther. You tried to spread your legs under him but you barely moved.

Mitch leaned up then settled between your legs on his knees. He grabbed your hips roughly and dragged his nails down your thighs, touching you just about everywhere except where you actually wanted him to.

You whined, squirming and opening your legs wider. Finally, his fingers ghosted over your clit, making you instantly buck your hips into his hand. To retaliate, he slapped your clit, hard, and shot you a warning look. You choked on a gasp at the sting but it faded quickly.

His fingers lightly dragged down your clit to your folds, then back up to start again. You were just about to rip the underwear from your mouth and tell him to hurry up when a finger entered you. You let out a muffled moan and closed your eyes, tilting your head back. He curled his finger inside you over and over again until you were bucking your hips against his hand. He inserted another finger and you let out another relieved moan.

This continued for a few minutes until you felt yourself nearing the edge. His palm pressed down against your clit, adding even more stimulation. Your hips were rocking against his hand and your eyes closed as you were about to come. He pulled his hand away suddenly, making you whine loudly.

“Ready for some torture?” Mitch smirked and you pouted around the makeshift gag. His fingers entered you, picking up where they left off. You fisted the sheets in both hands and arched your back slightly as you got close again. He stopped and you cried out as you came down from the edge for a second time.

“You gonna answer me now?” He looked at you with a dark glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really asking since he didn’t remove the gag to let you speak. “That’s fine. I have all night.” He curled his fingers inside of you and picked up the speed, making you release a muffled moan. He edged you a few more times- after the fourth time you started losing count- and you were so desperate that you were on the verge of tears.

You tried talking around the underwear in your mouth but it just came out as incoherent, muffled sounds. He removed it and you didn’t waste a second before begging.

“Please- I want…” You cut off with a sharp inhale when a third finger entered you, “I want to come. Please make me come.” He was silent for a moment and then he removed his fingers, sucking your arousal off of them quickly.

“How about this?” He picked up your gun and took out the bullets, leaving one in, and then spun the cylinder. “I’m going to shoot this four times,” he leaned over on his elbow, aiming the gun at your temple, “and if you’re still alive by the end of it, then you can come.” You choked on a gasp and his fingers brushed your entrance again.

“If you’re not alive by the end of it…” He leaned down so his nose almost brushed yours, “Well, I’m still going to fuck you.” He whispered with a dark look in his eyes that made you shiver. He inserted his fingers again and you whimpered at the intrusion.

“Ready?” He smirked, cocking the gun. You shook your head and furrowed your brows.

“N-no, I don’t-“ You flinched when he pulled the trigger, the click deafening right next to your ear because of the sudden fear you got hit with. You shuddered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“One.” He rasped. You whimpered and shook your head more.

“M-Mitch, I-I don’t wanna…” You gasped out.

“Why not, baby?” He worked his fingers inside you faster now. “I thought you wanted to come?” And the thing is… you do. You want to come so fucking badly. The gun aimed at your head is only adding to the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. But you watched him load the gun. And you have every reason to believe that he truly doesn’t care whether he fucks you before or after he kills you. While the thought makes you clench around his fingers, you’d rather be alive for that.

“Just three more, princess. I know you can take it. You wanna come right?” The saccharinity in his voice was quickly taking down all of your defenses. You nodded hesitantly, still shaking out of fear and arousal. He pulled the trigger again, the sound making you release a choked sob.

“Two more.” You felt tears welling in your eyes quickly. You’ve dabbled with fear play as a kink in the past, but it was never anything like this. He inserted a fourth finger and you whimpered at the stretch, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You deserve this, princess.” His fingers contrasted the gentleness in his tone. “Maybe I should just fire all six rounds.” You moaned through a cry, feeling too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. “Cause we both know your holes are all you’re good for. At least when you’re dead you won’t be able to talk.” He fired the third shot and you felt the tears start to fall.

“Poor thing. Are you scared?” He cooed softly and you nodded with a whimper. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be carrying weapons around. It makes it too easy for just anyone to turn the tables and have you at the other end.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. And you hated the fact that you don’t hate it…

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered, not sure what else to say.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, humping my hand.” You didn’t even realize you were doing that. “Even with a gun to your head you’re still only thinking with your cunt. That’s why you’re a shitty assassin.” He whispered the last part bitterly.

“Dumb little whores like you aren’t cut out for this, you know why? Because you’d rather fuck your target than finish the assignment.” He ground the palm of his hand down hard on your clit, making you moan. “Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a dumb whore who only thinks with my cunt.’” You whined loudly in protest, but he pressed the gun hard into your temple, reminding you of your position right now.

“I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, “I’m a…” You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.” You complied. “There you go. Now keep looking at me and say it. Don’t make me tell you again or one more shot will turn into two.”

“I’m a- a dumb whore who only thinks with my- with my cunt.” You whispered and Mitch looked satisfied.

“You ready to come?” You whimpered and nodded eagerly, thinking he’d let you come before firing the last shot. “Then just one more, baby.” Your stomach dropped and you felt the fear come back, full force. The coil in your stomach was about as tight as it could get and you tried to come before he could have a chance to fire another round, but your body would not obey you.

“Ready?” You choked on a sob and shook your head. “Oh come on, don’t be such a little bitch about it. Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes!” You cried.

“Then beg.” He said and you paused.

“W-what?”

“Beg me to shoot you so you can finally come, humping my hand like a fucking bitch in heat.” He growled, his fingers somehow going faster. You stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Go on, baby.”

“Please…” You mumbled.

“Remember what I said would happen if I had to tell you again?” You swallowed, giving him a small nod.

“Please s-shoot me…” You whimpered, eyeing the gun. He raised his eyebrows so you continued, “so you can finally make me come.”

“Good girl.” He smirked, grinding his palm harder against your clit, bringing you impossibly closer to the edge. He fired the gun and you froze, then let out a heavy breath.

“Can- can I come now please?” You all but sobbed in relief.

“Go ahead, princess. Keep humping my hand just like that… good girl. Grind on it, baby. Make yourself cum.” He set the gun on the bed then wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing on the sides hard enough to make you light headed. You gripped his bicep and squeezed your eyes shut. Finally the knot inside you snapped and your back arched as your head tilted back, pushing your throat into his hand. Your other hand reached up to grab the wrist of the hand on your neck. You didn’t try to pull him away, you just needed something to ground yourself.

As you came down from your orgasm, your body sagged into the bed. Your eyes were closed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from you then took his ring and pinky fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. He placed his pointer and middle fingers in your already open mouth and you moaned, leaning forward to take them deeper.

“Who do you work for?” He asked softly, removing his fingers and using his other hand to cup your cheek. The tenderness of his touch and his voice distracted you from the weight of the question.

“Piece of shit.” You mumbled sleepily, leaning into his hand. “Hate him.” You sighed and closed your eyes that were growing heavier the longer you tried to keep them open.

“Why does he want me dead?” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his other hand moving some hair behind your ear.

“You’re being so sweet. Dunno why anyone would want that.” You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. He gave you a soft smile, but his eyes showed his confusion. “I didn’t wanna kill you. Dunno why… just had a feeling I guess.” You returned his smile then closed your eyes again.

“I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” He chuckled, his breath fanning against your lips. “Remember what I said? I’m fucking you whether you’re alive or not.”

“Alive doesn’t mean conscious.” You smiled mischievously, not opening your eyes.

“Alright then. If you don’t want to be conscious when I fuck your face and then your cunt, then by all means. Go ahead and sleep. Makes no difference to me.” You could practically hear his smirk, and yet… you still took the bait. You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be conscious.” You huffed dramatically, rolling your eyes. You did your best to suppress a giggle.

“I’m honored.” His faux seriousness is what made you break out into a fit of laughter. He didn’t really laugh with you, but he smiled so you counted that as a win.

“Alright get it over with.” You settled into your spot on the bed and opened your mouth with a glint in your eyes.

“You’re such a pillow princess.” He muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Hey! Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m proud to be a pillow princess.” You grinned and he just scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.” He laid down on the spot next to you, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Sorry, princess but you’re gonna have to do some of the work. I’ve been on top the whole time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… you want to bottom? I mean I’m down for that but I don’t think we have the right materials, unless you’re hiding a strap somewhere.” You smirked, sitting up.

“Cute. Remember what happened last time you didn’t watch your mouth?” You flushed at the memory.

“How are you gonna fuck my face if you gag me with my underwear again?”

“I’m really starting to reconsider accepting your decision to stay conscious.” You gaped at him.

“You wound me, Mitch.” You put a hand over your heart dramatically.

“I’m going to wound you if you don’t hurry up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, you telling me to hurry up makes me want to do the opposite.” You crossed your arms and he huffed.

“You’re a brat too. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah actually. It usually goes hand in hand with the whole pillow princess thing.” You condescended him and he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes then looked up at you through his lashes. “Please suck my cock, baby. You wanna make me feel good right? Wanna prove that you really are a good girl? Cause I’m aching for you, princess. I know you can make me feel so fucking good.” He all but whined and you faltered. That was not what you were expecting at all. You figured you’d get another sarcastic reply, not- not that. You settled between his legs on your knees.

“I want to state for the record that I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” You started unbuttoning his pants and you glanced up when he didn’t reply. He had a satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. You just glared at him and kept working on taking his pants off. When you removed his black briefs you were mesmerized as his cock slapped against his stomach, big and red and did you mention he was big??

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I would but you threw my phone somewhere so…” You reached out to touch him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Take them off all the way.” You huffed but did what he said then reached for him again, he didn’t stop you this time. It looked even bigger in your hand and you could see the vein on the bottom and the precum surfacing at the tip. You leaned down and licked the clear bead, moaning at the taste and then laying down on your stomach between his legs.

You looked up at him and god what a sight. The veins in his arm behind his head are bulging and you could see the veins in the hand resting on his stomach. His pupils were blown wide and he had a light blush on his face.

“C’mon, princess. We don’t have all night.” You ignored him and continued trailing your gaze over his body. You wanted to kiss all of the moles littering his face. Your hand reached up and you brushed your fingers down his happy trail until you reached the base of his cock. You grasped it and looked up at him before starting to move your hand.

His eyes fluttering was the only indication that he even felt anything, so you decided to do more. You put the tip in your mouth and lightly sucked and then swirled your tongue around it, your hand still pumping him. He muttered a ‘fuck’ and you wanted more.

You took him deeper into your mouth, until your lips met your hand, then went back up, still keeping your mouth on him. You looked up at him and when you met his eyes he groaned. He tangled a hand in your hair but didn’t push you yet.

“That’s it. Fuck- good girl. No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” You removed your hand and continued bobbing your head up and down his length. He started taking control, moving you further down each time. When you gagged and tried to pull back is when he lost all control.

His other hand joined your hair and he didn’t even move your head. He just held you still and bucked up into your mouth at a punishing pace. Each time he thrusted in, you were nearly all the way down, but not fully. His thrusting came to an abrupt stop when he buried his cock as far as your throat would allow.

“Fuck- Relax your throat, princess. C’mon, take me all the way in.” You did your best to relax and he pushed inside until you gagged around him and tried moving off him. His grip didn’t loosen and you clawed at his thighs, feeling your airways start to burn from lack of oxygen. When he finally let you pull back, you took a huge breath in and coughed. Mitch was stroking your hair and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” You glanced at his cock again and nodded, licking your lips. He eased your mouth back over him and started with slow thrusts. He moved your head up and down his length, the slow place allowing you to concentrate on breathing and not gagging.

“You’re just the perfect little fuck toy for my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned around him and he started to speed up. “Just a fleshlight for me to use however I want. Fuck- you were made for this.” He grunted. His hips started to meet your mouth every time he pushed you down.

“Fuck- take it, princess.” He groaned when you choked around him. He held you down until your lips were at the base of his cock, paying no mind to your struggling. Your hands gripped his thighs again, nails digging into the skin. Even though he was holding you flush against his hips, he was still thrusting into your mouth slightly.

Finally he released you, a trail of spit connecting your lips and his cock. One of his hands fell to his side, the other brushing the tears of your face.

“Come here.” He muttered, pulling your body up his. He kissed you slowly, nails dragging down your back, making you groan. He rolled both of you over until he was on top of you, never breaking the kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He rasped. You nodded your head, eager for him to start. “Condom?” He took his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your opening and your clit.

“Don’t have one. I’m on the pill though.” You breathed, bucking your hips into him. He connected his lips to yours again, this time faster and more eager. He pressed the tip against your opening, pushing in the tiniest amount. When he finally breached your walls you gasped. Obviously you knew he was big… but it’s a whole other story when he’s actually inside you.

He slowly slid his length into you, your legs being pushed up to his hips the closer he got. When his hips were flush against yours, your chest started heaving as you tried to relax around him.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, grabbing his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other, “oh my god. You’re so fucking big.” You gasped out. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Mitch grabbed your thigh and pushed it up higher, the new angle making you whimper.

“Oh fuck- your little cunt is so tight around me.” He groaned, finally starting to pull back slowly. He dragged his length out of you until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward quickly. The force pushed you up the bed slightly but he continued that rhythm.

“Fuck- please go faster.” You whined, dragging your nails down his back and making him groan. His thrusts sped up slightly, the sound of his hips hitting yours was resonating through the room, along with your moans. His mouth attached to your neck as he bit and sucked the skin everywhere he could reach. You put a hand in his hair and pulled on it hard. To retaliate, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides and making your head feel lighter.

Mitch kissed you again briefly, then pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling but he quickly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you onto your knees then pressed down on your upper back, making you arch even further. His cock entered you again and you let out a loud moan at the sudden thrust. His pace picked up quickly and you fisted the sheets near your head and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand left your back to grab your hips, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

He landed a sharp slap on your ass and you cried out from the sudden sting. He leaned over you and brushed the hair on your face behind your ear. His thrusts never ceased as his lips brushed your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby.” He said through a moan. Your breath hitched and you felt his words add to the growing warmth in your belly. “It’s like you were made for me. Made to be my little cock sleeve.” Mitch grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you gasp. His other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back slightly. The harshness of his thrusts coupled with the sting on your scalp and the floaty feeling from his hand on your neck was driving you closer to the edge.

No matter how much you hated your boss or your job… you couldn’t help but feel glad that you didn’t quit yet. Because this was probably the best fuck of your life. Sure, most of the other men you’ve been with couldn’t please a woman to save their life- literally and metaphorically- but there’s just something different about him. About the way that he’s rough and soft at the same time. Not just in his actions but in his words too. It’s almost like he had a fucking manual for all of your kinks and turn ons.

“Where do you want me to come?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. And fuck- you clenched around him, making him moan lowly.

“Inside.” You whispered breathily. His grip on your neck tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” He put all his weight on the arm holding your throat, then released your hair and moved his hand down to start rubbing your clit.

“Please.” You whined, clenching down on him again.

“Such a fucking slut- wanting a stranger to come inside you.” You whimpered at that because… even though it doesn’t feel like it, he still is a stranger. “What if I knock you up, huh? I guess it won’t matter either way since, like I said, you’re not leaving here alive.” His thrusts got harder and faster and he was panting next to your head.

“Please, I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, getting closer to your release with every thrust. “I wanna live. Wanna be your cock sleeve.” Despite you being 90% sure this was all roleplay, there was still some truth to your words.

“Begging for your life and all you have to offer are your holes?” Your breath hitched and his words just added to the growing knot in your stomach. “I might consider that. But it depends… are you offering all your holes?”

“Yes!” You said through a moan. “Yes- all of them.” He chuckled darkly. “Please, I- I need to come.” You cried, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

“Go ahead, baby. Come and I’ll fill you up, okay?” He rasped, his hand rubbing your clit faster. Your body obeyed his command and you cried out when your orgasm hit. You heard him curse under his breath and felt as he fucked into you faster. You buried your face in the bed, muffling your loud moans. His hips stilled and you felt hot come paint your walls. You let out a loud whine as his hips just barely bucked against you, trying to bury himself deeper.

After both of you stilling and just panting for a few seconds, you lifted your face from the bed so you could breathe better and he moved off of you so he was kneeling. Mitch slowly dragged his cock out and you clenched at the emptiness. You felt his come drip out of you, down your clit, and he groaned loudly. He rubbed the head of his cock on you, spreading his come around, and you hissed at how sensitive you were. He moved to lay beside you and you dropped down from your knees on your stomach.

“You don’t seem like the type to cuddle after sex.” You chuckled and the corners of his lips turned up.

“You’d be surprised. But we aren’t exactly cuddling right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” You smirked and he rolled his eyes before pulling you to lay partially on top of him.

“Better?” He raised his brows and you laughed quietly.

“Much.” You said, laying your head on his chest. His fingertips lightly dragged up and down your arm and you traced the moles and freckles on his chest. What now? You thought. He’s not actually going to kill you… is he? “Are you actually gonna kill me?” You mumbled against his chest.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “No. But I can’t just let you go.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I think I should bring you to my superiors and let them decide what to do with you.”

“Your superiors? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” You laughed, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled quietly. “What are they like mob bosses or something?” You said teasingly.

“More like a former navy seal and director of the CIA.”

“The C-“ You lifted yourself off his chest to look at him. “CIA? You work for the CIA??” Your voice rose in shock and he raised his brows, amused by your reaction.

“Oh my god- I almost killed someone from the CIA. That would’ve been so bad.” You put a hand over your mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t even get close to killing me.” He chuckled.

“Only because I didn’t want to. I totally could’ve killed you.” He just smirked at you but you were too hung up on the fact that your boss basically sent you on a suicide mission. If not suicide, then life in jail.

“That bastard! He sent me to kill an agent of the US government and didn’t even fucking tell me.” You seethed before calmly stating, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.” He chuckled. “Actually it depends. Who is he?” You told him the name and his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“That’s the guy we’ve been after right now. We’re actually really close too.”

“Oh... What’d he do?” You asked.

“He’s a terrorist.” He deadpanned and your whole expression dropped.

“Oh shit.” You breathed. “Okay well now I definitely want to kill him.” You shrugged. “After I get paid though.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“That’s what’s funny about it though. It’d be even more ironic if you were the one to kill him.” Suddenly, you realized that you, an assassin, are talking to an agent of the US government about killing someone. “Are you gonna arrest me?” You asked nervously and he let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t think I can even do that… but no.” You sighed in relief. “Plus, what good is a fuck toy if it’s in jail?” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

I’M SORRY IDK HOW TO END THIS 😭💀

#mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp x reader #american assassin #russian roulette #(but sexy)

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scandalsavagefanfic · 2 years

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Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Kyle Rayner & Hal Jordan, Kyle Rayner & John Stewart, Kyle Rayner & Donna Troy, Kyle Rayner & Jason Todd & Donna Troy, Jason Todd & Donna Troy Characters: Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Maura Rayner, Donna Troy, Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing Up Together, Teenagers, Friendship, Slow Build, Canonical Character Death, First Love, Childhood Sweethearts, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Making Up, Family Summary:

Kyle Rayner understands loneliness. When he was a child, his mother loved him but worked long hours to keep them afloat. When he was fourteen, he was the last Green Lantern. At fifteen, he spends too much time in space to make proper friends on Earth. Things start to change when he overhears a conversation between Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne at the watchtower.

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Do you wanna laugh? Do you wanna cry? This was gorgeous.

@rarepair-roulette

#Jason Todd #Kyle Rayner #JayKyle #rare pair roulette #scandalous recs

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slafkovskys · 3 months

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The boys, especially Quinn, frequently pocket angel’s underwear after sex. She rarely realizes it in the moment, but once she starts running low on pairs she has to tell the boys to bring them out of hiding or to buy her new ones.

On multiple occasions Quinn has been at training, with the team or with friends and realized he has angels lacy g-string in his pocket.

just thinking about quinn losing at card roulette while out to dinner with the boys. he goes to pull out his wallet to tip absolutely not anticipating the pale blue lace to come with it. his friends were silent as he quickly shoves the fabric back into his front pocket without so much as a, ��i don’t want to hear it.”

meanwhile josh can’t help but to say something, “what poor girl is running around without her underwear, quinn?”

and he just places some cash on the table, carefully placing his wallet in the opposite pocket as not to have that happen again.

then when he gets home, he has a container of dessert for angel and he can’t even call out for her because she’s in the living room, along with jack and luke. luke lolls his head back against the couch, “you got us in trouble.”

“me?”

she gestures for him to sit between his brothers and he does so apprehensively. their girl crosses her arms over her chest, “so i took inventory of my underwear drawer today…”

#hughes bros x angel #quinn hughes

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st-rarepair-roulette · 1 month

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The AO3 collection is live with more treats to come this week!!!

#st rarepair roulette #stranger things rarepair #stranger things #stranger things rare pairs #st rarepairs #strr2024

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medusapelagia · 4 months

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Rare pair update

I'm addicted to the incredible feeling that fills you when things start to go smoothly and the story writes itself! Thank you so much to @shieldofiron because (FINALLY!!!) my entry for the @st-rarepair-roulette seems to work!!! I'll be honest.. it took me a while and 3 failed entries to get the one I'm really enjoying! We are 8k in and I feel pretty good about it and I can't wait to share it!

#stranger things rare pair #stranger things rare pair roulette #myfanfic #my writing process #YAY!

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avengerscompound · 1 month

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The Tower - Under the Table

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4585

Warnings: smut (ten personal bixexual orgy, oral sex, vaginal fingering, anal sex, some use of powers, blindfolds)

Synopsis: It’s Elly’s birthday, and after dinner the group have their own special kind of party game, one where they find out how well they know each other, and who can keep a good poker face.

Author’s Note: Long time no update! I’ve been writing really slow at the moment. But I am still doing these if you have requests. This one was Requested by bubsanddoll21 on Wattpad. You can send in your requests too.

Takes place between The Tower and The Holiday Special

Under the Table

In the early days of my relationship with the Avengers, it was a rare event that all of us had a meal together at a table. Ten people at a table felt more like a dinner party than a date. Sitting around on the couches just felt more familiar and comfortable. So when we did sit down to eat, it was a special occasion.

This one was my birthday.

The others had wanted to do something special, so they decorated the conference room and Bucky, Sam, and Wanda had cooked a large meal. It was nice and at the point where most of us had finished eating, Tony leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “We should have brought some games up with us,” he said. “I could go a few rounds of Cards Against Humanity right now.”

“I could go down and get something,” Steve offered.

“You’re still eating, Steve,” Wanda said. “Someone else can go.”

“Or!” Clint said, waggling his eyebrows. “Or… we could play a different kind of game.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not talking about charades?” Sam asked.

“Because you know me too well, Sammy,” Clint said. “I saw this thing…”

“What have I told you about watching that stuff on the company wifi?” Tony scolded.

Clint smirked at him. “To invite you along when I do,” he teased and stuck his tongue out at Tony. “Anyway, as I was saying; I saw this thing. Someone gets under the table and starts going down on someone. And if the person getting blown or eating out gives it away that it’s happening to them, they have to go under the table. And if someone guesses the wrong person, it’s them. Like a Blow Job Roulette.”

“Okay, that sounds fun,” I said. “Can we?”

There was a murmur around the table, and one by one everyone agreed it sounded like it could be fun.

“Birthday girl goes first,” Sam said.

“Shouldn’t I be the one that gets eaten out first?” I countered.

“But then we’d all know it was you, and you’d just end up under the table,” Sam argued. “You might as well start down there.”

I laughed. The logic was flawed, but I figured it was as good a place as any. “Alright, pants off everyone,” I said, slipping off my chair onto my knees under the table. Everyone shuffled around, some of them just opening their pants and pulling their cocks out, while others stood and pushed their pants all the way down. Wanda and Natasha were both wearing skirts, so they just took off their panties and hoisted up their skirts. It was quite a sight under the table. Nine people all around me, pants down, and legs spread. Some of the men were already half-hard. I looked around, picking my target.

Of all the members of the group, Wanda was calling to me the most. She was wearing thigh-high black socks, heeled boots, and a black skirt that was bunched up. Her legs were spread and the little thatch of pubic hair glistened invitingly.

I crawled over to her, putting my hands on her thighs. She tensed and I ducked my head forward, licking up her slit. I wondered what she looked like right now. How she was hiding what was happening. If she was hiding it. From where I was, it seemed so obvious. Her muscles had clenched and she’d tilted her hips forward. I could even feel a slight shake in her thighs. I couldn’t imagine it not being totally obvious from above the table, but if she was, no one had said anything yet.

I pushed my tongue inside her and flicked it up over her clit, painting little shapes over it. She squirmed and her cunt flooded, and as the tart, musky flavor of her slick filled my mouth, Bucky, Tony, and Clint all called out at once. “Wanda!”

“No fair!” Wanda whined as I pulled away.

“That’s the game, Wanda,” Sam said. “Now under the table.”

I crawled out and wriggled out of my pants as Wanda climbed in under the table. I sat down and nothing seemed to happen for a while. I could hear Wanda moving under the table for a moment, and then after that, it was just the sounds of people picking at the last of the food and random conversation in the group.

All of a sudden Clint yelped and practically rocketed up off his chair. “Wanda!” he scolded. “No powers!”

She got up giggling as everyone burst out laughing. “Did someone get invaded by some pink light?” Tony teased.

“That’s one way to put it,” Clint said as he climbed under the table.

It took a really long time before the next person became clear. I was studying everyone very closely, and the only thing that had me wondering was the slightly bored looks in the eyes of Natasha and Tony. Which made me think it was more likely Tony as he usually dominated the conversation. It wasn’t until his brow furrowed and he moved his hand under the table that I knew for sure it was him.

“Tony!” I yelled, pointing at him. “It’s you!”

“Ah, shit,” Tony said, reaching under the table with both hands and began to rut his hips. “Wait, Clint, I’m nearly done.”

“Hey now,” Steve said. “You can wait like the rest of us.”

Clint made a choked sound and stumbled out from under the table, his eyes watering, and he wiped his mouth. “Jesus,” he cursed. “Tony was a terrible choice.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony said, as he smoothed down his shirt. “The amount of calls I’ve taken while I’ve been balls deep in someone.”

“Alright, alright, get under the table smart ass,” Steve said.

Tony laughed as he climbed under, and I decided on a completely different strategy. I glanced around the table, trying to see if anyone had given it away, but at the same time, I tensed my hands and took in a shaky breath.

“Elly!” Clint, Steve, Natasha, and Sam all said at once.

“No!” I shouted and Bruce groaned. “It’s Bruce!”

“You little…!” Natasha scolded. “That was evil!”

Tony had broken down into laughter under the table and he crawled his way out. “That was awesome,” he said. “Now what? Do all of you have to get under the table?”

“Might I suggest that we alter the game?” Thor asked. “Perhaps, rather than all of us trying to work out who is being pleasured, Lady Elise should be blindfolded and have to work out which of her lovers is pleasuring her.”

“I think that sounds like a fantastic idea,” Natasha said. “If she can guess, then they can make her come. If not, she just gets edged.”

“What do you think of that, Elise?” Steve asked.

I nodded enthusiastically.�� “Yes, please. It is my birthday after all.”

“We might need lube and something to blindfold El with,” Sam said. “I mean - if we’re going to have real fun that is.”

Wanda lifted her loop scarf off over her head, and Tony, Clint, Natasha, and Thor all fished in their pockets and pulled out lube. What was funny was none of them had the same kind of lube. Tony had the warming gel kind, Clint’s was espresso flavored, Natasha’s doubled as a massage gel, and Thor’s was an oil he’d brought from Asgard and came in a delicate-looking, hand-blown glass bottle.

Steve and Wanda approached me as the others started clearing the table. “Let’s get you ready, Elise,” Steve said.

Steve lifted my shirt off over my head and Wanda unfastened my bra. I let the fabric slip down my arms and Steve tossed both it and my bra aside. Wanda kissed me softly and then wrapped the scarf around the top of my head, obscuring my vision. When it was in place properly, and I had assured them I couldn’t see anything, Steve lifted me and put me on the table.

I lay back and lifted my legs, spreading them and resting my feet at the edge of the table. They made me wait a moment, and while I waited, they were clearly not keeping their hands to themselves. There were moans and the soft wet sounds of kissing around me, which only made that wait worse.

My thighs were trembling by the time someone touched me. Right away I knew it was one of the guys and not Natasha or Wanda, and given the fact that he touched me with both hands, and they were both flesh, I knew it wasn’t Bucky either.

There was no preamble. Whoever it was just lunged in and began to lap up the length of the slit. They didn’t even try spreading me with their fingers, rather their tongue pushed between my folds and just got to work. I could feel the scratch of their beard. Yet, even without that, they were very skilled with their tongue. It started wide, sweeping up from my entrance to my clit, and then began to focus on the little but, sending little jolts through me. I didn’t even need the extra sensation of their long hair tickling the insides of my thighs, I knew it was Thor. The size of his hands, the beard, and the technique all screamed the god of thunder to me.

“Mmm… Thor,” I moaned, lifting my hips to meet his mouth.

A deep booming chuckle sounded between my legs and Thor sent a jolt of electricity right through my clit making my body jerk up hard. I nearly came just from that.

“How do you even do that?” Tony laughed. “You are too good at this game.”

“You gotta make me come now,” I said breathlessly, reaching down to tangle my hands into Thor’s hair.

“Don’t worry, lover. I will,” Thor said.

He was good to his word. He pulled my clit between his lips and began to flick his tongue over it. Every now and again, he’d send another spark into it, that made my core muscles clench completely out of my control. It brought me careening to the edge very quickly and the fourth time he did it, the dam burst and I came, arching up hard off the table as my orgasm crashed through me.

“Fucking hell!” I cried out.

“Damn, Thor,” Sam said. “That had to be some kind of record.”

“I am a god, Samuel,” Thor bragged.

There was only a short wait for the next person to move up. It was another one of the men and once again, clearly not Bucky. This person was much more tentative than Thor, spreading my folds with his fingers, and slowly swirling his tongue over them. He was tender and methodical, and it sent a warm buzz through me, oozing out like honey on tiles. There was no beard, and the very faint tickle of the hair on his head on my thighs.

“Bruce,” I moaned, arching my back and lifting one leg so it was draped over his shoulder.

“What the fuck?” Tony cursed. “You’re gonna be having so many orgasms tonight.”

“I know you all too well,” I moaned. “Gonna have to mess up on purpose so I don’t die.”

“Let’s see how you go,” Bruce said and eased two fingers inside me.

Bruce was slower and more methodical about things than Thor, at least initially. He pushed his fingers in deep, touching my g-spot and then stroking over it. As he did, he pulled my clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it. The louder I moaned the rougher he got, so it wasn’t long before he’d gone from careful and slow, to rough and fast. His fingers hammered into my g-spot, over and over, sending sharp jolts right through me, making it so I couldn’t think straight. Beside me, someone had started having sex, and from the sounds of it, it’d be a while before Clint was down between my legs.

My orgasm peaked and Bruce pushed his fingers against my g-spot and twisted his wrist, and I came, my back arching off the table as I cried out, shuddering with it.

Bruce hummed and pulled away. “Mmm… I love seeing you come,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss me.

I sucked my slick from his lips and he pulled away, running his hand down my stomach and patting my pussy before pulling away. I didn’t have to wait very long before the next person to take their place. Right away I could tell it was one of the women, which narrowed the choice down to two. I almost wanted to just take a shot in the dark and really freak them out. I didn’t even need to though, the slow tease of her fingers up my thighs, and the way she ran her nails over my hips as she leaned in, I knew right away it was Natasha. Not because she always touched me like that, but just that it was uniquely her.

“Natasha!” I said quickly.

She cursed in Russian and Tony burst out laughing, while at least two other people applauded me. I would have taken a bow if I wasn’t flat on my back. “That’s my girl,” Natasha praised and got to work.

Her nimble fingers pushed inside me and immediately pushed against my g-spot. I gasped and bucked up hard against her, but she just pushed my hips back down and continued doing it. She countered the intense pressure of her fingers against that sweet spot inside me with her tongue on my clit. It was intense. I couldn’t focus. Lights popped behind my eyes and each time I tried to say something all that came out was an animalistic cry.

When I came, I gushed, spraying Natasha with my juices as I arched hard on the table. It was so intense, it knocked every conscious thought out of my head and I just oozed down onto the table, breathing heavily, completely forgetting that there were still six more people to go.

“Well done, Mishka,” Natasha praised.“I hope you have more in you.”

I wasn’t so sure. In fact, when the next person stepped up, it took me a moment to realize there was even someone there. Their tongue was lapping up and down my folds before I was truly aware enough to remember I was supposed to be playing a game.

The way they lapped their tongue was almost soothing after the intensity of the last orgasm I had. There was a scratch of beard on my skin, but my foggy head made it hard to think about which beard it could be.

Finally, it clicked into place. No metal hand. That cut out Bucky. Clint and Steve were both clean-shaven. Which just left Tony and Sam. I was sure that Tony would want to torture me after what happened and he wouldn’t be going easy on me at all. “Sam…” I moaned, the sounds completely breathless.

“We should never have doubted you,” Thor said. “This is truly impressive.”

“Are you sure you’re not peeking?” Clint asked.

“Just know you all,” I argued in that same breathless moan.

Sam pulled back and a moment later there was the press of his cock against my cunt. “Let’s make you come a different way,” Sam said.

He lifted my legs so they were up against his chest and he pushed into me. As he started to thrust into me, I gripped the edge of the table to hold myself steady. “Oh fuck,” I moaned. I was so sensitive and overworked, that I knew the next six orgasms would happen really fast. I was going to be completely over-stimulated by the time we were done.

Sam slid his hands down my thighs and onto my cunt, and he began to rub my clit in tight circles. I mewled, arching my back and clenching tight around his shaft. “Oh god, Sam. Please…” I didn’t even know what I was pleading for. I just knew I needed something. More, harder, slow down, be gentle. Or maybe just to stop.

His thumb kept rubbing in tight circles on my clit and thrusting in fast and deep, and very quickly I was brought spiraling to the edge once more. He pinched my clit and I went toppling over, crying out and clenching my teeth as all my muscles clenched up at once.

“Good girl,” Sam praised. “There we go.”

He slipped out of me and I let my legs fall on the table. “You still okay?” he asked.

I nodded and made an incoherent sound. He caressed my cheek and ran his thumb over my bottom lips. “Elise, are you sure?”

I nodded again. “Yeah. I can do this.”

He stepped away and the next hand touched me. Just the right hand, and it slid up my legs and when it reached the apex of my thigh, the thumb ran up and down my slit. Someone might have been just trying to mess with me, but I didn’t think so, and when the person crouched and their long hair teased the inside of my thighs it confirmed it. “Bucky,” I said.

He laughed. “Damn it. I was trying not to give it away.”

“That’s what gave it away,” I said.

“Alright, alright, let’s make you come then,” he said, sounding a lot like he was pouting.

He didn’t even bother to try and go down on me. He just pushed my legs up against my body, lined his cock up to my cunt, and shoved in deep. I gasped as he bottomed out and I felt the sharp sting of the head of his cock hitting my cervix. “Bucky,” I whined.

“Sorry, honey,” he said, backing off a bit. He smoothed his hands down my thighs and began to thrust.

I reached up, grabbing his wrists as he thrust into me and I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him in as tightly as I could. “Bucky,” I moaned. “Kiss me.”

He wrapped his right arm around my waist and lifted me, so I was sitting on the edge of the table and the cool metal of his thumb brushed over my lips. I parted them, leaning forward as I wrapped my arms around him and pushed my hands into his hair.

He kissed me, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I flicked my tongue forward to meet his and they danced together. Bucky kept thrusting into me and I rolled my hips to meet him. As worked up as I was, I knew I wouldn’t last, but the way this orgasm built felt so different from the past four. It wound around me like a warm blanket. I was engulfed by it, cocooned completely. It heated me from the inside and yet I trembled in Bucky’s arms. He held me close, thrusting in deep and kissing me with a passionate intensity that took my breath away.

When my orgasm washed over me, I threw my head back and clenched tight around me. “Oh god, Bucky,” I moaned.

Bucky’s hips stuttered and he groaned loudly, burying his head in my neck. “Fuck, Elly,” he groaned, suddenly jerking forward and coming inside me.

“Bucky Barnes, you dirty dog,” Clint scolded. “Leaving a mess in there for us to clean up.”

I swatted lazily in Clint’s direction as Bucky started laughing. “Oh like you’re not looking forward to that.”

He pulled out of me and I lay back with a groan. It wasn’t long before someone else was between my legs. They lifted them and spread them wide and then did something that gave them away immediately. They laughed.

“What’s so funny, Tony?” I asked.

“Ah fuck,” he said. “Didn’t even get a chance to trick you. I just had plans to go to town on you.”

“Mean,” he said, reaching for him. “Go on, you gotta give me my prize.”

“Alright, alright,” he said and pushed his cock up against my cunt. “It’s coming and so will you be.”

I laughed, but it was cut short as he shoved inside of me. He thrust in so hard it nearly knocked the wind from me. I cried out and reached above my head. Someone grabbed my hand and I held onto them as Tony began to thrust into me.

He didn’t go easy on me the way Bucky had. He grabbed my legs, held me in place, and just railed into me. “Fuck… fuck… fuck…” I babbled as I was jolted on the table. My fingers tightened around whoever’s hand I was holding. It felt like this orgasm was being hammered into me. Each thrust of Tony’s hips just made it build more and more until I was ready to burst.

It hit me hard, lights popped behind my eyes and I cried out, my hips bucking and my body writhing under him. “Oh fuck yes, Tony!” I mewled.

Tony kept thrusting, fucking me through my orgasm, and with a shudder he came too, moaning as he did. “There you go, Legolas,” Tony teased as he held me in place.

He leaned down and kissed me as he pulled out, and stepped away. A lay on the table breathing heavily, waiting for the next person the move up.

I didn’t have to wait long, and once again, I knew who it was as soon as their hands were on my skin.

“Wanda,” I said.

She giggled. “I knew there was no point trying to trick you. But lucky you, now you get your prize.”

She took her hands off me completely and just as I wondered what she was doing, the warm tingle of her powers touched on my feet and began to wind their way up my leg. It was slow going, and it didn’t settle on my cunt right away, rather, it wrapped its way right around me, making my whole body buzz and tingle.

I whined, squirming on the table. I was still holding someone’s hand, and I gripped it tighter, trying to tether myself to something real.

“Please, Wanda,” I whined, bucking my hips.

She giggled again, but things started to get more focused. It swirled around my nipples, tugging on them, and began to buzz against my clit. I moaned, arching my back and the pressure increased. Every moan I made made her increase the pressure of her powers on me. My nipples hardened almost painfully and a hot current ran right through me from my clit. I was dripping on the table as my cunt clenched around nothing.

It started to feel like some kind of torture. I was so close, and yet she was keeping me hovering there right at the edge. “Please. Please, Wanda. I need �� I need…”

“Yes, Elly?” she asked.

“I need to come,” I wailed.

A jolt shot through me, and just like that, I came, arching hard off the table, and screaming as my orgasm rocked through me, making me gush onto the table. It was the most intense orgasm yet, and for a moment everything went black.

When the world returned, I was panting heavily, completely dazed as I rode out the extreme orgasm high.

“Holy shit, Wanda,” Natasha cursed. “That was impressive.”

“Two more left, El,” Steve said. “You sure you’ve got them in you?”

I nodded slowly. “Think so.”

Someone moved up and skimmed the back of their fingers up the insides of my thighs. It was a Clint trick, but not out of Steve’s playbook. Whoever it was leaned in, ghosting his lips up the insides of my soaked thighs. His fingers moved to my cunt, spreading it with his fingers and running his tongue up my slit. There was no beard, but both Clint and Steve were currently clean-shaven, so that didn’t give it away. I really had no idea who was touching me.

I lifted my feet, put them on his shoulders, and flexed my toes. Whoever it was was broad-shouldered and muscular. That didn’t exactly narrow it down either. And just because Steve was broader than Clint, I chose him.

“Steve?” I asked.

“You sure about that, darlin’?” Bucky asked.

“No… but it’s my guess,” I moaned.

Some of the group started clapping. “Well done, that’s all of you. How about Clint and Steve make you come together, so you only have to do one more?” Sam suggested.

I nodded emphatically. “Please.”

Steve moved forward, the thick head of his cock pressing against my cunt. I raised my hips to meet him, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer to me. He pulled back just a little and with a snap of his hips, he sunk in deep.

I gasped and arched my back. As I did, Clint moved up beside me on the table and began to flick his tongue over my clit and play with my breast. The table was jostled beside us and Clint grunted and let out a moan.

“Who’s fucking Clint?” I moaned.

“That’d be me, honey,” Sam replied. “You want to see?”

I nodded. “Please.”

The blindfold was taken off as Steve continued to thrust into me. I blinked at the light and looked around, Taking everything in. Steve was between my legs, holding me in place, his brow furrowed as he fucked me. Clint was half propped on the table, bent over me, licking at my clit and that base of Steve’s cock. Sam was behind him, one hand braced on Clint’s shoulder and the other on his hip as he thrust into him, jostling him against me. The others were spaced around the table. Most just watching. Thor was the one holding my hand, though Wanda was bouncing in his lap, her eyes glowing pink.

Everyone else was just kissing and holding each other as they watched Clint and Steve bring on my final orgasm. Seeing them just added to my pleasure, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

I relaxed back, just letting the pleasure wash over me, It encompassed me completely. But in the end, it wasn’t either Steve or Clint that set my orgasm off, it was Wanda’s orgasm.

She cried out and her powers burst out of her and I was hit by a sudden, intense wave of her pleasure. I came hard, all my muscles clenching at once making me arch violently off the table. I cried out and my vision blacked out for a moment. Wanda’s orgasm must have affected the others too. Steve groaned and gripped my hips hard shoving into me and coming deep inside me. Sam’s hips bucked and his head fell back as his hit too, and Clint suddenly arched like a cat and came in thick ropes onto the table.

I fell back breathing heavily as I rode the waves of my orgasm. Steve hunched over me panting and Clint slithered down and lay there with his head on my stomach.

That’s how we stayed for a while and then Natasha stood. “Okay. How about we clean up here and head downstairs? I think it’s time for a soak in the hot tub.”

Steve sighed contentedly and slipped out of me. He pulled up his pants and then picked me up, cradling me against him. “Good birthday?” he asked.

I hummed, snuggling against his chest and closing his eyes as I murmured my reply. “The best.”

~ END ~

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