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myfictionaldreams · 11 months

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Day 18: Sex Pollen - Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was your first mission out with your mentor, Bucky, but not all goes to plan when you stumble across an old Hydra laboratory and accidentally trigger a trap.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content (kinda), mentor/protege, grumpy/sunshine trope, sex pollen, fingering, begging, crying, rough sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, creampie

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“Can you stay close to me?”

“Bucky, if I was any closer to you, I might as well be your shadow. Will you chill out, please?”.

All the response that you are given is an exasperated sigh from your team leader, who was directly in front of you, his gun raised and pointing in whichever direction his eyes followed. You were so close to him that the head of his body seeped through his uniform and into your back as you followed his steps, almost like a choreographed dance with the synrosy.

It was technically your first mission today; even though you’d been over comms for Bucky countless times, he finally gave in and agreed that you could join. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you; in fact, he trusted you more than most. It was more due to his intense mentorship and protectiveness that he’d developed for you over the years, which had everything to do with your clumsiness.

Yes, you were an agent, but there were only so many times that you could accidentally hurt yourself before they called in your experience and practice. You were moved to a behind-the-desk job, which pained your heart, but soon, Bucky was your partner, digitally through the headset and then in person, as you begged him daily for training and a chance to prove yourself.

He was reluctant, but you were like an incessant fly, always buzzing around him with that chirpy personality that even managed to draw a smile to his grumpy old - yet handsome - face. The more time he spent with you, the more you could chip away at his heavy exterior and mask, which only hindered your chances of returning to the field again, as the thought of having you so close in the danger zone had him near palpitations.

He blamed it on your clumsy nature, tripping over your own feet or dropping vital machinery, but in truth, Bucky had wanted to prioritise your safety, which was hard when he had a job to do. However, after months of pestering, you wore him down enough to agree that you could attend the Avengers to a sweep of a supposed deserted Hydra base.

“If you continue down this corridor, I can check the rooms”, you say quietly, hardly audibly over a pin drop, but with Bucky’s increased hearing, you knew he could hear.

“Absolutely not; you’re staying with me; we’ve discussed this. We’ll check the rooms together and finish the rest of the corridor”. Bucky’s word was final, so you didn’t argue back, restraining violently to not eye roll at his authoritative tone.

“You two are like an old married couple”, Natasha quips over the comms, which was enough for both you and Bucky to roll your eyes. It was a comment frequently shared with those around you, and it warmed you to hear such pleasantries, and then the realisation that Bucky would never go for someone like you had the sensation of ice coursing down your spine.

“I think you’ll find he’s the old one, not me”, you retort sarcastically as Bucky leads the way into the first room. “This looks like Bruce’s office or something. Do you recognise any of these experiments?”

It was an old, decrepit office laced with dust and thick cobwebs, similar to something from Frankenstein with the number of attempted experiments that seemed littered around the room. Endless stacks of paper, vials of dusky-coloured liquids, and photographs stapled to the walls that were decaying with age.

“No, I don’t recognise any of this, but whatever it is can’t be good news. Stay close and don’t touch anything”. You once more refrain from the eye roll, knowing he means well, but you’re not a child who needs to be reminded to hold their parent's hand all the time. Taking a step away from him, your eyes scanned the various objects, noticing that it was in a language you didn’t quite recognise.

“Thor, I think we have some voodoo stuff here that’s from your neck of the woods”, Bucky announced through his earpiece.

“You think so?” you ask over your shoulder towards the man with his back to you.

“Yeah, I recognise some of these markings from his hammer”.

“Huh. maybe it’s one of the bases Loki was hiding in; he did like dark and damp places- SHIT!”

To your credit, you hadn’t touched anything or even tripped and knocked something over; potentially, a trip wire or a sensor was trapped in the room, but a light drizzling mist sprayed into your face halfway through your sentence. As you were talking, the concoction settled on your tongue but also seemed everywhere else: your eyes, nostrils, and ears felt wet.

“What? What happened?!” Bucky snapped, standing in front of you in seconds as he assessed you, wiping your eyes.

“I…I don’t know, something sprayed me in the face”. As soon as you’d explained what had happened, Bucky was cradling your face more harshly than you’d have liked, tilting your face in all directions, even sniffing close to see what had covered you, but it had already absorbed into your skin.

Bucky’s eyes were frantically searching over every pore of your face like it would give him answers about what had sprayed you. His gloved finger and thumb holding your chin tightened as he swore. “Fuck! I told you to be careful and stay by my side! Why would you touch anything?!”

Pushing his hands away from your face, you gave him an incredulous gaze, “I didn’t touch anything! I’m not an idiot, so you don’t have to talk to me like I’m one, bucky! Stop- stop trying to touch me, I’m fine,” he had been reaching for your face to examine it again, ignoring your sassy, angry tone. Still, you stepped back out of his reach, becoming frustrated with his lack of trust.

As Bucky’s mouth opened to probably further chastise you, the door ricocheted off the wall as The Avengers swarmed into the uncomfortable small room. Natasha was by your side first, examining your face just as closely as Bucky, but at least she had listened when you explained that you felt completely fine. Tony then scanned your vital signs, which were also fine.

“I told you! It’s probably some mouldy old water or something; I feel fine now can you all give me some space? You’re making it hot in here”. You were fanning your face to try and cool yourself like someone had just turned on the heating, but it was primarily because the small room was full of warm-blooded people.

“Let’s head back out, and we’ve nearly finished the sweep on the North side”, Tony began, the face plate of his suit sliding back into place. “We’ll continue and finish the rest.” He lifted his metal-covered hand and pointed a finger towards Bucky. “Barnes, take her back to the Quinjet, keep an eye on her”.

“No! Don’t send me back to the jet like a child. I told you, I feel absolutely fine!” you quickly tried to rationalise with Tony. Still, he ignored you, hovering off the ground and flying out into the corridor. You looked to the other Avengers with the hope that one of them may find some pity for you, but all you had in response were close-lipped smiles that notified you that there was nothing that they were going to do.

Letting out a frustrated shout, you stopped, admittedly like a child, in the direction you and Bucky had walked down. Even though his steps were silent, you knew he was behind. You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head.

As you returned to the Quinjet, Bucky continued to stay silent as you both sat on opposite sides of the seating bay. Your anger spiked as you shrugged off your jacket, still feeling slightly warm and needing air to reach your skin.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked as you moved across the jet with determined steps.

“The toilet, or do I need you to hold my hand as I’m doing that too?” you snap, cheeks heating as anger bubbles deep in the centre of your chest. Bucky, for once, looked taken aback by your tone as he shook his head and allowed you to go to the bathroom.

Once inside the small compartment, you rushed to the sink, turned the tap onto its coldest setting and began to scoop it over your skin, sighing in contentment as your skin began to cool down. Pressing your fingers against your face, you felt uneasy with the temperature of your skin, and it was like you were starting to get the flu but also not quite at the heat that concerned you. You decided it was probably from rushing back to the jet after a few minutes of deep breathing.

A rush of guilt settled heavily in your stomach as you thought about how you’d spoken to Bucky. You’d never broken rank and been that rude to him before. Not once had you ever raised your voice or even been angry with him, even through all the times that he’d declined your joining for a mission; it was always for the best, but now, everything just seemed to have escalated. You couldn’t calm yourself down like you were buzzing from the inside out, affecting your temperature and mind.

Three swift knocks on the bathroom door had your head snapping in that direction. “Everything ok in there?” Bucky asked tentatively.

“Yes! Can’t a girl pee without being interrupted?” you snapped, and immediately, you regretted the nasty tone you’d spit out.

There was a pause from Bucky before he continued to speak, but this time, he had lowered his voice in a soft and calming way. “It’s been half an hour, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, Sweetheart”.

Half an hour?! You could have sworn it was only a couple of minutes. Rubbing your hands over your face and shaking away the tension, you nervously opened the door, tentatively looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just didn’t want to let you down, and I promise I didn’t touch anything in the lab-”.

Bucky pulled the door open entirely, his eyes roaming over your body to check you were still in one piece before he sighed. “It’s fine, Doll. I just wanted to make sure you’re ok… Are you… ok?”

His blue eyes flicker over your face as he notices that there's something not quite right with you, but all you can manage is a shrug of your shoulders, wiping your eyes that were feeling a little irritated. “I feel mostly fine. I think I need a lie-down, though”.

Bucky looked unsettled by your words but didn’t stop you from walking over to the onboard bunker, where you rolled onto the thin mattress and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

“So, are we just going to leave her here?” Tony sarcastically asked the other Avengers members, who were now watching you sleep.

“No, asshole. I’ll take her”, Bucky grunted, moving past the billionaire to squat beside your body. You’d been in a deep slumber since collapsing onto the bed. Bucky had stayed by your side the entire journey home, which was a fair length, so he was surprised to see you still asleep. Tony had set up the screen to display your vitals, which he watched like a hawk and other than the fact that you weren’t waking, everything remained normal.

The other Avengers didn’t argue with Bucky, knowing how protective he was over you, as they shuffled out of the loading hatch. Bucky shimmied one arm underneath your knees and the other to support your back as he carried your bridal style. You moaned at the disruption, arms circling around his jacket-covered shoulders.

Bucky contemplated taking you to the medical bay for a thorough check, but seeing your peaceful face, he didn’t want to disturb you. He’d stay with you to ensure you were checked as soon as you woke up. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d stayed with you as you slept, as there were many times you’d either fallen asleep on his arm during a movie or gotten too drunk during an Avengers event that he stayed just to make sure you didn’t choke on your vomit.

As he walked through the Avengers headquarters, he ignored the call for a debrief by his teammates and continued until he arrived at your bedroom, booting the door closed behind him.

Your bedroom was just as messy as he had anticipated it to be, stepping carefully over the shoes, clothes and books that you liked to say were carefully placed into piles on the floor, but you’d simply just left them there to clean up another time. Your bed was just as bad with mountains of pillows that you insisted on having, even though Bucky thought it was severely excessive.

Trying to reposition his hold on you, he hoisted you higher to spare one of his hands to throw the numerous pillows you owned onto the floor. In doing so, your forehead rested against his cheek, and you released an unsettled whine on the impact of his skin touching yours.

Bucky froze at the noise, trying to look down at your face, but in his position, he couldn’t see properly as you were thoroughly tucked under his chin. Finally having enough space, he ever so carefully led you out onto the soft mattress.

Your eyebrows were furrowed as if you were having a nightmare. Bucky sat beside you on the bed, counting your breaths and frowning when he noticed that you were breathing more rapidly than you had been when he was in his arms.

Sweat began to gather along your temple, causing your hair to stick to your forehead, which he quickly moved to move away. As the tip of his fingers connected with your skin, many things seemed to happen simultaneously.

For one, you released a deeply pained groan as you curled your body into a ball on your side, beginning to breathe in quick succession like you were hyperventilating.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky asked with rising concern, now cupping the side of your face with his flesh hand, but this seemed to trigger the pains enough that you awoke.

Your eyelids fluttered open just to clamp shut again, squeezing as you cried in unbelievable agony. Your skin was burning as if all your nerves had been individually set on fire, causing sweat to come to the surface of your pores drenching your clothes, which was still mostly your uniform.

“It hurts. It’s too hot”, you whimpered, lower lip wobbling as eyes effortlessly tracked down your cheeks. With trembling fingers, you attempted to undo your trousers, but the stabbing pain in your abdomen caused you to curl further into a ball like you were trying to shield your stomach from anyone touching it.

“Let me help. We need to get you to cool down. JARVIS, inform the medical bay that we need some assistance”, Bucky shouted Tony’s AI that ran throughout the building.

As Bucky managed to undo the button to your trousers, JARVIS responded with news that had Bucky’s heart almost stopping. “They are aware of the situation as Mr Stark has requested that I record her vitals from returning to Avengers headquarters. You are both officially in quarantine until they can find out what it is that was sprayed and affecting her”.

The sound of the bedroom locking echoed louder than any of your sobs as Bucky cursed, running up to the barricade and attempting to break out. “You can’t just lock us in here! She’s going to die, Stark, you piece of shit! Open the door!”

“Bucky!” you cried pathetically, still attempting to remove your clothes even though all that remained was your t-shirt and underwear. Bucky didn’t immediately rush back to you as he removed his jacket, giving him more freedom to swing his metal arm back and punch his way through the bedroom door, but all it did was bend; it still wouldn’t open.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted, seething with unending rage as he rushed back to your side, helping to pull the shirt over your head. “Christ Doll, your skin is warmer than mine. Come on, I’m going to carry you to the bathroom; we need to cool you down”.

Bucky carefully carried you to your en suite bathroom in the same bridal style as before. He tried not to grunt at how warm your body was against his flesh arm as he carefully placed you into the bath, but as he tried to move away to turn on the shower, you screamed out, grabbing onto his arm to keep him close.

“Don’t leave me; it feels good to have you close, please!” Bucky frowned, not entirely understanding what you meant, as surely his higher-running body temperature didn’t feel good when you were burning up so significantly.

“I need to turn the shower on. I’ll be two seconds, and I’ll be back, I promise”, he explained and then didn’t wait for your response as he pried your nimble fingers off your bicep. As soon as some of him didn’t touch your skin, the symptoms worsened.

Bucky flinched at the pitch and volume of how you screamed. He scrambled to reach over the bathtub to switch on the shower head high above the wall and hastily turned the temperature down until cold water was running out.

“Sweetheart, you need to move further under the water; please work with me here. You’ll feel better, you just need to move for me”.

Your whole body was shaking with such force that you found it difficult to suck in air as the heat of your skin was the last of your worries. The pain in your abdomen had turned into pure agony, and if you were to describe it, it was almost like you were cramping, waves of stabbing pain but exaggerated to a level that made it impossible to breathe, think, or even want to survive. It was so severe that you couldn’t hear what Bucky was begging because you were desperate to try and hold your abdomen as it would in some way ease the pain, but not only this, your body was reacting in an extreme way to try and fight the unknown sensation coursing through your veins.

As if to relieve the cramps, your cunt produced an obscene amount of fluid to the point that it was dripping out of your hole and pooling beneath where you sat. If Bucky turned off the shower, you’d probably appear just as wet with how much of your juices were coming out.

“Fuck this”, Bucky whispered under his breath as he failed to get you to move by yourself. Awkwardly, due to the limited space, Bucky climbed into the bath, hoisting you forward to sit behind you and force your body further under the cold water. This, in turn, means that he began to get soaked, including the tactical gear he still wore on his legs, his combat boots and the black t-shirt. He didn’t care though, not when you were deteriorating so significantly.

Bucky put it down to the water, but as soon as he was in the bathtub, his body pressed against yours and arms wrapped around your waist so that the bare skin of his arm and metal touched yours, the screams reduced to stuttering whimpers.

Your head rested back on his shoulder, out of the way of the flowing water, but as your forehead turned and met his chin, you turned further to nuzzle closer.

“More”, you whispered, fingers digging into his forearms to hold him closer.

Bucky readjusted your body so that it sat fully between his thighs. “More what, Doll?” he asked gently, his thumb rubbing in circles along your rib cage. It was only now that he contemplated that you were in your underwear, but it was an emergency, even though some part of him deep down was awakening in some deep-seated emotions he’d been trying to keep locked away.

For the first time since you’d been in pain, you responded to his voice by turning your head slightly but only to rest your lips against his neck. “More!” It was like a siren was sounding through your mind, and the sensation of Bucky’s skin against yours was quietening it to a soft buzz; even the cramping had eased somewhat to a dull ache.

Bucky frowned, confused by your demands, but he squeezed his arms around you further, deciding that maybe it was the comfort that was helping you.

“It hurts”, you sobbed against his neck, “wanna feel more of your skin”.

“My…my skin?” Bucky asked, completely confused by your request and deciding that you’d probably entered the delirious stage of whatever illness you were experiencing.

“Mr Barnes? Are you there?” came a voice from the speakers in the ceiling.

“JARVIS? Is help coming?” Bucky asked with hope pleading in his voice.

“No, sorry, Mr Barnes, but we have an update. It seems that Mr Odinson has read through some of the markings found in the footage taken from the lab. The mist sprayed was, in fact, from Asgardian origin. Mr Odinson informs me that it is most likely planted there by Mr Laufeyson as a trick he has played many times in their lifetime.”

A prank? It sure didn’t look like a prank with the way you were trembling and crying in Bucky’s arms. “So what the hell is it? How do we stop this from getting any worse?”

“This is of a delicate matter, Mr Barnes, so forgive me. Mr Odinson informs me that the chemicals used in the mist are an aphrodisiac used during specific parties in Asgard to increase the user's arousal. Still, due to the amount of time that this substance had been left in this hydra facility, it has caused the ingredients to age and the symptoms to increase in intensity. However, Mr Odinson has reassured me that the symptoms should reduce if you were to consummate”.

Bucky was speechless as he looked down at your precious, unwell body in his arms. “You can’t be fucking serious”, he’d meant to shout, but all that came out was a doubtful whisper. “What would happen if we left her? Would the symptoms lessen? She doesn’t seem to be in as much pain when touching my skin”.

“Unfortunately, after some time, the symptoms will reduce. The chemicals used are designed to last as long as possible, and as they are all out of date, Mr Odinson is unsure how long this may last, but with her vitals as abnormal as they are now, it is unwise to leave her. Mr Stark has suggested that if you cannot fulfil the role of consummation, then he would find someone who could”.

Bucky’s reaction to Stark's comment was to shout in rage, and he could picture him now smiling at his sarcastic comment. There was no way he was letting anyone else touch you. “What if she doesn’t want that? I’m not touching her if she doesn’t want-”

“I do”, you gasp whilst still resting your face on his neck, calming your cries enough that you could hear JARVIS. “I want it so bad; I need the pain to go away. Please help me Bucky”.

Whether it was the way that you begged him for the intimate act or the thought of potentially what was happening, Bucky regretted to say that his cock twitched in the confines of his underwear as he sat up further. “Sweetheart, do you understand what’s being asked? To do this-”

“I want you to touch me, Bucky; I don’t need to tell you how long I’ve wanted this. I know you know how I feel, but please, I can’t feel like this anymore; it hurts everywhere”.

Bucky’s eyes glazed over. All the time of knowing you, he had somewhat of an inkling of the shared feelings. Still, it was firstly unprofessional of him to act on any feelings, but his self-conscious bias of being undeserved of love due to his past as the Winter Soldier stopped him further.

However, now, you were led out before him, ready to live the dreams and fantasies he’d been stuck on for so long, but what’s worse was the pain you were experiencing. It seemed he took too long to answer as he could feel the shift of the heat radiating from you once more.

Your back arched as your fingers delved between your legs, cupping your mound as the pain increased; this time, it wasn’t just the cramps but also white-hot tingles beginning in your clit, over every little sensitive nerve that ran throughout your core.

“Please help me!” you cried, tears lining your eyes.

Bucky had to decide then and there if he would potentially watch you suffer with unimaginable pain or help in the only possible way. He’d agreed, had from the second Jarvis had suggested it, knowing that he couldn’t lose you.

Sitting up slightly, Bucky reached behind his head to pull the black t-shirt off and onto the floor, the wet material squelching on impact. With his chest bare and kissing the skin of your back, you sighed in relief, but the throbbing between your thighs didn’t cease.

“Off, I need these off!” you referred to your underwear, the bra and panties restraining the areas that hurt you the most. Using his metal hand, bucky quickly tore through both garments and discarded them onto the floor to join his shirt.

The sound of relief that you made caused his heart to beat with a more affectionate rhythm as he looked down at your now naked body. The shower continued to coat you with cool water that glistened off you. Your nipples were the first thing that he noticed, impossibly hard and aching to be touched, and it seemed he was reading your mind as you grabbed his metal hand and used it to cup the squishy mound, directing his thumb and forefinger to pinch the sensitive nub.

You released a heavenly cry, back arching and thighs clamping shut at the lightest of touches. With his warm hand, he did the same to your other breast as he carefully squished both in his palms before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Yes! Feels so good, just like that”, you beg, eyes still shut, but your head had rolled back onto his shoulder, giving him the space to respond to his desire of gently kissing the column of your throat. Even this sparked more moans from you, needing to feel the plumpness of his lips, needing the electrical tingles that came from his touches to continue.

The kisses were soft, like he was scared to touch you, but as your sounds of pure elation continued, so did his confidence as his mouth opened, applying wet, open-mouth kisses to your skin.

As if on instinct, responding to these touches, your hips began to rotate, pushing down harder against his groin until Bucky was moaning in pleasure.

“More, touch me more”. Bucky responded to your demands by smoothing his flesh hand down your abdomen, feeling the skin taunt, reacting to him. He moved over your mound as he watched closely from over your shoulder. This was when he felt it, the wetness that was continuing to be produced and pour out of your cunt. Even though the shower was still coating you, the substance was different, verging on feeling slimy, more slippy and seemed to cover everywhere from the waist down.

Bucky contemplated licking his fingers to taste you, especially as his mouth filled with saliva with the need pulsing through him. Still, it wasn’t about him, so he continued lower until his fingertips were parting your labia.

The second his middle finger stroked your clit, it seemed a wild animal took over you like you knew how close you were to receiving what you truly wanted but not quite going at the speed you wanted.

One flick of his middle finger against your swollen, throbbing clit was all you allowed before you were turning in his arms, pushing his arms away momentarily as you raised onto weak knees.

“Need you now. I can’t wait; it hurts so much Bucky”. As you explained your reasonings, your shaking fingers were reaching for the waist of his tactical trousers, trying to undo the belt but grunting when you struggled to do so. Bucky thankfully helped you then, ignoring the evident trembling in his fingers from all of the adrenaline as he unfastened his belt, button and zipper.

With this new freedom, you were able to reach inside the space and grasp his hard dick, pulling it out of the confines of his clothes. You marvelled at it for a single second, enjoying the softness of the skin but the firmness of the shaft, the bulging veins and tip that was bulbous and aching to be stroked. It was like your prize, your pot of gold at the end of the tunnel, and you needed it inside of you right that moment.

Seeing and hearing your desperation to be as quick as possible, as the cramps continued to pulse through your abdomen, Bucky quickly grabbed your hips, pulling you over his lap to straddle him, even with the awkwardness of the squished space in the bathtub.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you lowered yourself. Neither you nor Bucky had ever experienced anything like it. The agony catapulting through your veins completely shifted to one of pleasure, like a switch had been flicked throughout your body as you took inch after inch of his delicious cock. Bucky, on the other hand, was having to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from cumming, but he did moan in an animalistic way. He’d never been inside a cunt that was so perfect before, so deliciously warm and unnaturally soaked; you squeezed his cock in pulses that he soon realised was the thump of your heart.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky couldn’t help but praise, wrapping his arms around your back to provide further support.

As your body naturally seemed to adjust to the size of his cock, you didn’t waste any time before beginning to ride him with the help of Bucky’s strong arms.

The shower still coated you both in refreshing cold water for the heat, devouring the two of you. Bucky is still wearing his tactical trousers and boots, and you are completely nude and riding him like your life depended on it. Well, it did, in a way.

Up and down, you bounced, your tits jumping on your chest, which caused your pebbled nipples to rub against his, giving extra stimulation. You were so incredibly out of breath with the momentum of fucking him, but you didn’t stop, only occasionally softening the bouncing to a soft roll which always caused Bucky to moan and squeeze the cheeks of your arse together.

In no time at all, you were finding your peak, cunt pulsing dangerously tightly around his cock as you came, face hiding on his shoulder as you slumped against him for a second. Bucky thought this would be over, that he would have to carry you to bed and hope you felt better soon, but then he began to feel the wetness flowing around his cock and the throb returning. Shortly after, you were whimpering.

“It hurts again, please Bucky, I need you again”.

Bucky didn’t need telling twice as he thrust his hips up to snap into yours, causing your delicious moan to echo around the room. He needed to hear it again, so he repeated the action, but it was difficult to find any sort of leverage in this position, so with his metal arm positioned beneath your arse, he supported your weight and stood. His boots were now the objects to be squelching as he moved towards the shower wall.

There, he pushed your back against it and began to fuck you with deep, fast penetrations. Your head fell back against the tiles, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder blades as you didn’t want this pleasure to end.

“Harder, Bucky fuck me harder!” you cried out, knowing he was still holding back. Bucky grunted, shifting so that both of his hands were beneath your arse cheeks, holding you more securely so that he could fuck you without any restraint.

Each thrust had you almost blacking out; they felt so good. The tip of his cock smashing into your cervix, which any other time would have potentially hurt, but for now, it was just what you needed.

You came again, spluttering and quivering from your mouth and cunt as he helped you over the edge. However, once more, the pains returned.

Bucky had once thought that his increased libido due to the super serum was a hindrance, but for the only time in his life, he was thanking whatever asshole had experimented on him for this moment.

His trousers and boots had been removed as he had carried your dripping body out of the shower when he realised your temperature remained low if he was fucking you. Into the bedroom, he continued his impressive and thorough fucking. Pushed onto the bed on all fours, in the spooning position, even missionary, and he wouldn’t change positions until you were a cumming bumbling mess. Wherever he decided to bend you over, it was always him on top; your legs were shaking too much to support your weight anymore, but he didn’t mind, not when he could take full control and draw orgasm after orgasm from you.

After god knows how many orgasms, Bucky finally couldn’t edge himself anymore and came with a gruff moan against your collarbone from where he lay over you, his seed seeping into your swollen hole, warming and massaging internally. This finally seemed to settle you, like it was the one missing ingredient your body needed, as you slumped onto the bed without any more cries of pain.

Bucky collapsed next to you, pulling your exhausted, limp body on top of his, your face resting on his chest as you both tried to calm your breathing.

He thought you’d fallen asleep, but then your face was tilting up to look at his, which, in turn, he looked down to look at yours. Even though you looked thoroughly exhausted, he could see that you were beginning to return to your usual self as you smiled so gently that it caused his heart to beat harder. Something you could hear as your ear rested over his heart. Tilting your head up further, your lips caressed his before Bucky could contemplate what you were doing.

The kiss was light and delicate, and it finally dawned on Bucky that this was the first kiss shared between the two of you, having been so distracted with fucking your brains out that he thought kissing would be too intimate. Neither of you said anything, just continued to smile before sleep finally captured your conscious minds.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky smut #marvel smut #marvel #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2023

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pathologicalreid · 5 months

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hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

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lua-magic · 7 months

Text

Eighth house and your hidden pain.

Whichever your eighth house Lord goes, there you have to face transformations, humiliation, pain and traumas.

Wherever your eighth house Lord goes or which ever planets goes in your four, eighth and twelfth you should be extremely secretive about that planet and should not disclose about it to public as eighth house is of secrets.

Eighth house Lord in first house 🏠

This is little tricky placement, because it makes person extremely secretive about his/her activities.

It could get native involved in extra marital or immoral activities or give person high sexual drive or urges which he/she can't control

Person has deep rooted traumas and pain that he/she can't express .

Person is extremely sensitive and has tendancy to pent up emotions and that makes person emotionally unstable as/she has no idea "how to release emotions in healthy way" that makes person extremely agressive when he expresses his emotions.

He has hidden personalities which he doesn't show to public for example he will be different personality to his family and then he switches his personality for his wife

However, person would be good in research and good in spirituality.

Native should not talk about himself to others he should extremely quiet about his life.

Eighth Lord in second house 🏠.

This combination gives you money, so much so that you can lead a life of dignity, nor less not more, as eighth house has tendancy to flush out things, it cannot hold, that is why eighth house represents your "excretion ".

You will face ups and downs in finances and regarding family.

In some cases family could be the reason of your pain and traumas.

In some cases person often see or sense super natural powers around him.

You should be secretive about your finances and should not disclose to others.

Eight Lord in third house 🏠.

Third house is of mental inclination and attractions.

Your own desires and mental inclination will be cause of your anxiety, stress, and depression.

Eighth Lord in third house is not good for siblings, as they will be constant cause of worry and anxiety for the native.

Third-house is also of house of courage, so eighth Lord damages your courage and you don't like to take initiatives and risks in life.

Third house also represents, subconscious mind hence, native should always work on his subconscious mind and be secretive about his/ her desire.

Eight lord in fourth house 🏡

Eighth house is of transformations and fourth house is of domestic environment.

Person will live like wanderer, and continuously change is place.

This placement give trouble to mother and gives person extreme emotions like depression and anxiety because native like to go in roots and analyse everything in so much details that he loses his emotional control.

It could also make person good counselor and psychiatric

Fourth house is of comfort, hence, person should always work or think outside comfort zone and never try to limit himself or herself.

Person should be quiet about his house and home related matters and should not disclose it in public.

Eighth lord in fifth house 🏡

Fifth house is of children, children could be the cause of stress and anxiety for the native.

Fifth house is also your concious mind, so person will be constantly being under stress or anxiety.

Fifth House is also of learning, so this placement is good for someone who wants to go in occult and Astrology.

Fifth house is of love life, due to love life native could face extream transformations in his/her life

Native should be quiet about his love life, and about his children and should not disclose it in public, especially be quiet about your pregnancy and conceive.

Eighth Lord in sixth house.

Sixth house is of debt and diseases, native could face stress and anxiety due to his diseases and debts in life.

Sixth house is also of daily routine, so native can't maintain his daily routine.

It is also good, because person would fight with his traumas and his eniemies.

Native should be quiet about his social services, charities and about his problems in life, don't announce it on public platforms or even to your family, learn to to do secret charities and be quiet about your struggles.

Eight Lord in seventh house 🏠

This is again tricky placement because it disturbs the martial life of the native and partner could be cause of stress and depression.

However, native could experience major transformations in life after marriage.

Native should marry partner who are into occult and Astrology or are Deep thinker or in research.

Native could also gain inheritance from his partner.

Native should be quiet about his married life and should not disclose much about his partner to public.

Eighth Lord in eighth house 🏡

This could give major transformations in life and also be cause of depression and anxiety, as eight house is of traumas and eighth Lord in his own house will only increase all your traumas and grief in life.

Native experiences deep pain and sadness in his/her life before your life gets better like dark night of the soul and then native transforms for ever

Sometimes you have to die in order to reborn., I am mentioning mental death.

Eighth house is of isolation and detachments, it makes person isolated and detached from every thing, once you are detached and emotionally dry, your life starts getting better.

It kills you emotionally slowly and exposes all your past life traumas and emotions that you have stored inside you to you till you work on it and transform yourself.

It is good for someone who wants to learn astrology and occult.

Person should be quiet about his pain and grief and should not disclose about his sadness and depression in public.

Eighth Lord in ninth house 🏠

Ninth house is of father, religion and teacher, native could experience major transformations in his/her life due to father or teacher. Father could be cause of stress and anxiety and depression.

Person will not be attached to his religion and has difficulty in making long term plans.

Ninth house is also of luck, so her person should not leave anything in "Luck" .

Scorpio has energy death, so person experiences major event in his life, where native hits the rock bottom, and then he/she experiences divine blessings, blessings come only in critical situation.

Native should be silent about everything in his life, and should not disclose his weaknesses especially, to his friends or even family. If you have weak spot then don't let anyone know about it.

Eighth Lord in tenth House 🏠

When eighth Lord goes in tenth House 🏠, it gives you major change or shift in your career and work, you will change your work frequently and won't be satisfied in your work life .

It won't let you settle in work or you won't be able to find work which you enjoy. You experience stress and anxiety due to work continuously..

Native could do well in occult or in Astrology..

Native should learn to do his work in silence, and not to disclose his professional life with anyone.

Eighth Lord in eleventh house 🏡

Eleventh house is house of your friends, so native should be careful about choosing his/her friends as native could experience stress and anxiety due to his friend circle.

He should make only spiritual friends and don't share his personal life with his friends.

Due to his bad friend circle native could get involved in illicit activities, friends could also try to harm or defame the native.

Native should always have healthy boundaries with his/her friends.

Eighth Lord in twelfth house 🏠

Twelfth house is of Intuition, and eighth house is of occult and Astrology, person has some occult powers or sixth sense within him.

Native could be great healer or has connections with spirits or angels that guide him/her

Twelfth house is of bed pleasure, so person could experience problems in bed pleasure and especially sleep related issues.

Twelfth house is of sleep and eighth house is mysticism, so person could experience premonition in dream and can sense events.

Eighth house is also of dead, so native could sense death before or talk to dead people as well.

Person should not disclose his occult powers in public and also about his sexual activities

If person gets into meditation then he/she can unlock his hidden super powers easily.

This placement could also give native sexual traumas, and pain and fear due to sexual activities

Scorpio 🦂 is tail, Opposite to eighth house is Taurus which represents your eyes and mouth, hence Scorpio has energy of being hidden, or which cannot be seen but, could be felt intensely.

#vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes #vedic chart #vedic astrology #spirituality #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astro community

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ywuji · 6 months

Text

yuuji doesn’t think he buys you things often, but your bed full of stuffed animals says otherwise. (f!reader, plushie humping and them watching u fuuuuck)

often times when he goes out with friends or on missions, yuuji will come back with little trinkets or toys he thought you would like.

he doesn’t listen when you tell him you have nowhere to put them—when he gifts them to you, he’ll just smile his giddiest smile, hoping you’ll forget about that for a moment.

it's funny because he’ll come over to your tiny uni room down the hall from his own, see his gifts taking up the majority of your space that you’re meant to have, and he’ll still have a mind to think of other things he could get you!!

‘the more the merrier!’ is the sentiment of all of his lighthearted protests when you bring it up in conversation—and he’s genuine with that—but there’s also something else.

something about those times when either you or him are away and you’re missing each other, him telling you to call him—voice or video, ‘whichever you prefer, cutie’—and the conversation ending up in him talking you through straddling his favourite stuffie of the day and grinding your sweet little wet cunnie on it.

"does he feel good, sweetie? …yeah. y'sound so pretty... mhmm, sound so good, my love. keep going, baby."

"nonono, you’re doing great, honey. i know you’re tired, but it’ll be over soon, yeah? just a little more and you can cum… yeeaahh that’s it, princess, doing so well f’me."

"f-fuck… l-look so cute, baby… can you see? ’m leaking so much. …mhm, ‘s all you, pretty girl, ‘s all f’you."

or the other times, when he spends the night at yours, and you touch and you kiss, and the next thing you know is that you’re pushed into the bed, surrounded by your dear stuffies, whining and mewling as yuuji hungrily looms over you, pumping his thick cock into your wet, messy heat.

“yuuji..! a-ah! ‘s too much, ji—ah!” you whimper, voice struggling to come out of your throat every time he pushes into you. he knew from your previous three orgasms he gave that you're reaching your limit, and he’d pull away if he knew you wanted him to, but the way you’re grasping at his toned back, his beautiful neck, and his tousled hair, pulling him closer, deeper into you—he knows you can take it.

“pussy so fuckin’ good, princess… l-love it so much—f-fuck! s-so good for me, baby,” he caresses your precious head, brushing hair out your face and staring right into your eyes as he pushes himself in further into you. the waft of his breath heating your cheeks as he praises you, “suckin’ me in s-so—fuck—tight…“

“‘m close, ji! s-so good! ohmygod…!” you grip onto him impossibly tight, fingers digging into his thick, muscular shoulders.

“h-haah—y-yeah? me t-too... where can i cum, baby?” he pants, his whimpers that you love so much becoming louder.

“inside! insideinside! please inside! pleaseplease—please!” you choke out. you don’t have to wait a moment longer before he’s pounding into you like your lives depend on it, fat cock drilling you at an angle, stretching you out and hitting all those right spots only he can reach.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cu—!“ his lips crash into yours, swallowing your sweet sounds as you cum and cream around his cock, legs wrapping tightly around him feeling ropes of his thick, hot cum spurting into you as you both shake and tremble from your orgasms.

he lowers the rest of his body onto you, being careful not to crush you. his face burying itself in the crook of your neck, whispering little praises and tender words of affection. ‘love you so so much, baby’, ‘did so well for me, pretty’, ‘look so beautiful when you cum’. with his sweaty front now pressed to yours, he lays still. warming his cock inside your cunt to let the both of you ride out your blissful highs.

his head comes up to look into your dazed eyes as you gently cup his hot cheeks. he smiles and chuckles breathily, littering quick kisses from your lips to your chest, licking and sucking cheekily at your nipples, leaving a few lovebites on your breasts.

moving to sit up on his knees, he looks down at where the two of you connect, softly rocking his hips and moving circles over your sensitive clit, watching the sticky white ring of your mixed orgasms coat his cock with each slow thrust.

you whine and hold out shaky fingertips to his hips. he grins, pulling his cock out painstakingly slow, watching his cum leak out of you, collecting it up with his fat cockhead, and pushing it back into you with one last gentle thurst.

“yuuji...” you mewl out with a small pout on your face.

“yeah, honey?” he looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“...they were watching the whole time.” you point to the little crowd of plushies who are all faced towards you, an odd feeling washing over you as you realise your shared stuffed ‘children’ witnessed the two of making love right in front of their plastic eyes.

he shrugs nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face “it’s not that bad.” he teases.

“wha-?! what do you mean…?!”

“they’ll just learn a few things,” he smiles playfully at your puzzled expression. “y’know? like how to be in love and… how it feels to know someone truly.” he nods his head and purses his lips as if he's just said something deep.

“you’re so stupid.”

#ywuji #i locked in for this one #or did i #yuuji ban for me until i can write about someone else (maybe) (unconfirmed) (prolly not)#itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x reader #itadori headcanons #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x you

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honeytonedhottie · 14 days

Text

financial literacy⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽🎀

so i released a poll if you guys would like a post on financial literacy and the results are here. so im gonna share some things that i learned while taking a financial literacy course…💬🎀

WHAT IS FINANCIAL LITERACY ;

financial literacy is handling ur money wisely. the google definition of financial literacy is the ability to understand and apply different financial skills effectively, including personal financial management, budgeting, and saving.

ALL ABOUT BUDGETING ;

when u hear the word "budget" its rly easy to think "omg limiting belief" or think of it in a negative light but a budget is just a plan on how u manage ur money. its not always constrictive and negative like u may or may not think of it to be.

budgeting : keeping track of how much $ ur bringing in and how much ur spending…💬🎀

planning a budget is ez pz. you can use some paper and sparkly pink gel pens to create an adorable budget, or u can download different sheets online and just have your budget digitally. theres a plethora of resources out there so just choose whichever is easier for u.

something else that i learned about during this course was the 50:30:20 rule. its called the 50:30:20 rule because 50% of ur money goes towards ur needs, 30% goes towards wants and 20% goes towards ur savings. and this isnt concrete, its just a good framework and u can adjust to ur own specific needs and goals.

for example if u manifested $4000. ur 50% would be $2000, ur 30% would be $1200 and ur 20% would be $800…💬🎀

HOW DO U KNOW WHAT UR NEEDS/WANTS ARE ;

things like ur rent and groceries are ur needs and things like vacations and going out with ur girls are wants. and to apply the 50:30:20 rule you first have to...

♡ calculate ur needs, wants and savings budget

♡ compare ur expenses to ur budget

the way u do this is to subtract your expenses from your budget. this is your budget balance. if your budget balance is zero or positive, that means you are living within your means and have some extra money. if your budget balance is negative, that means you are spending more than you should and may have a budgeting problem.

let me know if u guys want more content about this cuz i had a lot of fun writing this…💬🎀

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diejager · 11 months

Note

wondering how doesn't reader get pregnant after a lot of action with both horangi and könig, especially when König prefers to breed reader rather than his wife.

also do they have breeding kink? and what would be reader's reaction if there's a possibility of pregnancy, that would be so dramatic ig coming from reader's mom.

I hope this answered your question! cw: breeding kink, drug replacement?, mention of abortion, forced pregnancy, mention of stalkholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

The answer is simple: you either take pills, or got an IUD installed (honestly, that’s what I have since I have so many friends who’ve told me that pills have bothersome side effects and I’m forgetful so I won’t be able to remember to take them every day.).

A) If you take pills, König will replace them with a placebo, he has his ways, relationships built on years of work and alliance. So it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone who can produce placebos for your birth control. Since he’s made a habit of staying near you whenever he can, seeing as he’s retired, it would be weird if he went out for so long. He has Horangi pick it up, meeting with the agent who’s sent to give them a year worth of box.

B) If you had an IUD installed, he’ll search your room for that little card it comes with when you’re not home, look at the date and he has two options. 1) if he doesn’t want to wait the time, be it a year or two, anything between one and five, he’ll talk to you about taking it out. 2) if he can wait, he’ll use the time to break you in, let you settle with this relationship and get you used to the dynamic they have in mind. Patience is a virtue after all, like a little pet project of theirs.

They definitely have a breeding kink. Ironically enough, they’re family men, a bit rough on the edges and tactile in their ways, very touchy-feely. They like to be hands on, holding you down as they fill you up, fingers bruising your skin with brands, to let people - and you - that you belong to them. König might be fidgety, never being one to sit still and do nothing, but he is patient, like a predator in hiding. Horangi’s a tiger in a hunt, slow and steady steps, certainty exhuming from every decision he takes. They don’t make a decision without telling the other, Horangi and König are a team, they were and always will.

Whichever contraceptive you took, it wouldn’t mater much in the end, you’d end up with morning nausea and a positive on your test. You’re in tears, balling your eyes out and panicking, breathe rapid and shallow, near hysteric as your mind goes through all the different scenarios of what ifs. You might’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of your situation, pregnant with the child of your stepfather or your neighbour. What would your family think? Your mother who’s oblivious and ignores your cries for help; your father who didn’t know where wen after your mom indefinitely cut your contact; or your living grandparents that lives God knows where.

Unlike you, hysteric and frantically searching for a solution to your problem, König is excited, calling Horangi to tell him the great news of your pregnancy. He has a smile on his lips when he finds you, shushing your tears and cooing soft praises. König tells you what a good mother you’d be, what a responsible Stay-at-home mother, with gentle hands and loving lips. When Horangi’s here, he picks you up, holding you in his arms and peppers you in kisses, a few deep, feverish ones, full of passion, and a few wild ones on the corner of yours lips and your cheeks.

Your mother is less frantic than you, worried, but not panicking. As a mother, she’ll ask about the pregnancy, who the father is (knowing you weren’t one to sleep around), and help you. You’re embarrassed at yourself, unable to tell her that the two men in the room are the kid’s father. You’re silent, head bowed down in shame and fidgeting, anxious and terrified, you were in your army 20’s, still in University to finish your bachelor’s degrees and now you’re pregnant. Horangi steps up, telling her that you’ve been having relationships with him - excluding the fact that her husband had a hand in everything as well - in occasions. She’s seen how close you are with Horangi, nearly sitting on his lap at times and often seen in his company.

She’s supportive, ignorent of all the mess in your life. Granted, she’s a bit disappointed, but you’re an adult, she can’t dictate your life like her parents did to her. So all she can do is support you, take l’ombre time off to walk you through the basics of parenthood and the nausea and emotional rollercoaster a pregnancy brought. You want to tear your hair out from the roots down at how oblivious your mother is, but you’re scared of getting an abortion, or if it’s legal at all.

Your angry, stressed and panicked, emotions flaring up with your unfortunate situation with no one to talk to, to turn to, all you want to do is cry. What can you do when you have an ignorant mother and two possessive and criminally wrong men with bloody hands and unrestrained connections.

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

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kestrelteens · 9 months

Text

Finally I'm releasing Westbrook Cove for download! Thanks so much to everyone who's asked for it and waited for it, I appreciate you all so much! ♥ Unedited preview under the cut! Please make a backup of your game before installing.

Creating a custom 'hood and releasing it for download is not hard and not a big deal at all, but since I was doing it for the very first time, of course it wasn't all smooth sailing- hence the wait. I had to recreate it 3 times lmao, due to not knowing all the facts (silly me) but it was all in good fun honestly and I'm super happy it's finally shareable! 🐸

Sooo, this 'hood is completely clean, no characters and no stealth 'hoods or anything. It was created using the Baskerville terrain which, of course, is included. You can play it using your own defaults, but here are the ones I use that you can see in the preview pics:

these trees

these roads

this grass replacement

Some useful mods you might need:

'hood deco placed anywhere

busy roads

gunmod's camera mod

The folder with the 'hood (N025) goes to your 'Neighborhoods' folder in the Documents/EA Games/The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection (or just The Sims 2)/Neighborhoods 🐛 I debated whether I should include a folder with all the custom neighborhood deco you need, but I figured that probably most of you already have all the CC needed since the buildings and houses I used have been in the community for years! So instead I have made a CC list (under the cut) so you can easily download and/or check if you already have the needed deco. 🦓

There is also a folder with 10 residential lots created just for this 'hood to match its vibe and the aesthetic. They have all been cleaned, compressed and the little CC they have is included and the preview pics are under the cut. 🦔 But, just in case, download these build mode sets (in case you don't already have them):

Bespoke

Well Crafted Windows

Townhouse Windows

Cottage Living Windows

I didn't end up placing the lots anywhere 'cause i wanted you to have the freedom to organize the neighborhood whichever way you want!

Please enjoy and have fun! I'm here if you need anything ♥

neighborhood download (sfs) // alt neighborhood download (mediafire)

lots download (sfs) // alt lots download (mediafire)

Neighborhood deco you need:

basically just get everything by Criquette, I have most definitely used all of it, but I'm sure you already have these, they're the best

these adorable houses

gorgeous veranda houses

amazing 4t2 houses

town hall & school

vervainwort buildings 1 & 2

pub

these various rabbit holes

downtown rabbit holes by curiousb

snowy escape 'hood deco

leoz94 misc conversions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

these vehicles

tennis courts and soccer fields

misc deco

forestry buildings

campus buildings

Unedited 'hood preview

Virginia Lane 6- 30,961$

Green Court 8- 26,231$

Pear Tree Lane 25- 34,200$

Roslyn Road 12- 26,974$

Coventry Lane 16- 27,294$

Hidden Lane 12- 19,416$

Moorland Drive 12- 18,400$

Blairmoor Court 4- 26,032$

East Emory Court 13- 13,144$

Wedgewood Drive 8- 24,423$

#the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 #s2 #s2cc #ts2cc #ts2 neighborhood #sims 2 neighborhood #kestrelhooddownload

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neos127 · 3 months

Note

Could you please write a story about a foreign exchange student, featuring any member of ENHYPEN, who stays at your house and gradually falls in love with you? Personally, I can see this happening with Ni-ki, but feel free to choose whichever member you like! thank you! love <33

international love

nishimura riki x gn!reader; genre. fluff, strangers to lovers and slight slight angst wc. 1.6k cw. a lot of time skips! i didn’t want to make this too long

riki was sure this was the most awkward meal of his life. his host parents were sweet, trying to make conversation and make the boy feel comfortable. their daughter was nice as well, but riki wasn’t sure why you seemed so weird around him. he knew that his awkwardness when it came to you was because he thought you were pretty. riki had only met your parents online before he came to your country, simply knowing that they had a daughter but not knowing what she looked like. imagine riki’s surprise when he saw your face for the first time.

he had a few crushes back in japan, but he was positive that you were the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in his life.

later that night, riki was getting ready for bed in the guest bedroom. he felt a bit home sick and sighed as he looked out the window, taking a mental note of the differences in the view. riki sat down on his temporary bed with a slight pout, missing his room already.

“can i come in?” you asked, knocking on riki’s door. the boy jumped up from his bed, his heart racing at the sound of your soft voice. as soon as he opened the door, you stepped back in surprise, nearly forgetting how tall riki was.

“hi. i-i just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay. or if you needed something that my parents might’ve forgotten to give to you.” you spoke up, nervously playing with your hands. riki bit back a smile, finding you to be very adorable.

“no…don’t worry im okay.” riki replied, giving you the most awkward thumbs up. you let out a chuckle before nodding your head. the two of you mumble ‘goodnight’ and you race back to your room. you heart pounded against your chest as you closed your bedroom door, face heating up as you replayed the conversation.

when you had found out who was coming to stay with your family for your school’s exchange student program, you instantly tried to find the boy on social media. when you did you were stunned, noticing how cute he was but also how talented. he posted many dance videos with his friends and older sister and he was really good.

so meeting him in person completely caught you off guard. had he seemed as tall as he was in the pictures? why was he even more gorgeous in real life? you felt silly about your feelings, trying to bury them down and simply be friendly towards the exchange student. he was new to your country and you didn’t want to scare him.

little did you know, riki felt the same way you did.

. . .

halfway through the school year, you and riki became close friends. he had met many people during his stay, a lot of girls and boys desperately wanting to befriend the boy because of how cool and handsome he was. but riki only really cared about hanging around you. you became his best friend— and the girl he secretly had a crush on.

you learned a lot about him and his life in japan as he warmed up to you. he would spend many nights with you under the stars, telling you how much he loves being in japan and how the city life is really fun. he would teach you different words and phrases in japanese and even made you promise to come visit him when he inevitably goes back.

and unfortunately when that dreaded day came, no feelings had been shared. riki had cried all night, similar to the night he first came to your country when he thought that he had made a huge mistake.

his eyes were red as the two of you embraced at the airport and you simply cried against his chest. your parents had already said their goodbyes to the boy and went to find food to give you two privacy.

riki had been a better friend to you than anyone you had ever met in your city, he understood you and never took your friendship for granted. the boy was understanding about your feelings and kept your life filled with laughter and fun—but unfortunately he lived in a completely different country and he wouldn’t be by your side as you went off to college.

“i’ll come visit you…i swear.” you cried, squeezing the boy harder. riki nodded, his hand still on your held as he held the back of it.

“i lo-i’ll um, i’ll miss you. i’ll be waiting for you.” riki mumbled, his words having more meaning than you understood at the time.

“we’ll talk, okay?” you asked, trying to wipe all your tears away once you pulled back. riki smiled, gently wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks before softly poking your nose.

“of course. i’ll see you soon.” he replied, giving your hand one last squeeze before backing away. with a sigh he grabbed his suitcase and gave you one last look before turning around. you began to cry again, attempting to hide your sobs as much as possible. you watched him until he rounded a corner of the airport— and then he was completely out of your sight.

. . .

riki hadn’t left your mind. you stalked his socials at night before bed, updated him on your day and even looked through the many pictures you two took together. a part of you felt upset that you hadn’t made a move on him. there was definitely a spark between you two, you were just too scared.

but as a couple years passed and you finally saved up to take your big trip to japan, you realized that you were tired of being scared. if riki had waited for you like he said he would, you were positive that you weren’t going to let him go this time.

“what are you doing right now?” you asked on the phone once you arrived. you were sitting on your hotel bed and staring out at the tokyo skyline, your stomach knotting with nerves. riki simply thought that you were calling him before you went to class like always, not knowing that you were in japan. you wanted to surprise him, hoping that he’d be happy to see you after so long.

“sitting at my favorite park- the one i told you about a couple years ago. it’s such a pretty night, i wanted to appreciate it and take some pictures. i’ll send them to you.” riki explained and you could practically see the smile on his face.

“enjoy yourself, riki.” you smiled, already typing the address into your phone’s gps. you had remembered the name of the park, wanting to visit ever since riki told you how beautiful it was. finally getting to see it with the boy you were in love with definitely had to be some sort of dream.

you kept pinching yourself on the way there, wondering how you happened to get so lucky with riki. he was the best person to ever walk into you life and it was painful not being able to see him or touch him for so long— you were practically jogging to the park as your desire to see him grew.

once you walked past the entrance, you wandered the place, searching for a tall boy with dark brown hair— different from the blonde style he had when you first met him.

“y/n, what the hell?” a deep voice spoke, causing you to gasp and turn around in surprise. you were met with the boy you were looking for, who seemed to have grown even more since you two last saw each other.

“what are you doing here?” he chuckled when he saw your surprised expression, his wide smile hard to contain. he never expected you to visit him so soon, but when he saw you wandering around his favorite place to get away, his heart began to beat out of his chest and all the feelings he harbored for you came rushing back even stronger.

“i wanted to surprise you.” you whined, your next words getting caught in your throat when riki pulled you into a tight hug.

“i’m still very surprised. and so so happy. i missed you so much, my y/n.” riki mumbled, taking in your scent and realizing that you still used the same perfume. the smell was nostalgic and comforting, it made him feel complete again.

“please don’t ever leave me.” he begged, still hanging onto your body while the two of you rocked back and forth in each others arms.

“i’m going to have to go back to [your country] eventually.” you sighed, burying your head into his hoodie.

“no, please stay with me. i mean it. i love you too much to let you go again. you could move in with me, we could be roommates. we can figure out the details since i know you’re not in school right now.” riki rambled, causing you to abruptly pull away and look at his face. he didn’t want to meet you eyes until you forcibly grabbed his face.

“you’re in love with me?” you asked timidly, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears.

“definitely. i’m so in love with you that it hurts.” riki replied, dramatically clutching his chest and stumbling backwards. you giggled, feeling like the same lovesick eighteen year old that first met riki.

“i love you too, riki.” you spoke up, a big smile on your face. riki smiled as well before quickly scooping you up into his arms and kissing you. it didn’t last very long considering that the two of you were practically smiling into each others mouths.

“so you’ll consider staying?” riki asked, moving to place a few kisses along your neck and face. you giggled, running your hands through his fluffy hair.

“well when you ask like that…”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen #enha niki #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki x reader #riki imagines #riki fluff #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines #ni ki scenarios #ni ki x reader #ni ki enhypen

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kyra-cooneyx · 4 months

Text

fight club — o.batlle x reader

summary: you get hurt during a game and find out afterwards that ona can be very protective

it wasn’t uncommon for referees to carry on play after a player goes down but after watching you get taken out over and over again, ona could feel her anger towards the ref growing with every tackle she let go. even more so with the real madrid back line who were seeing the lack of discipline as an opportunity to continually target you.

and it wasn’t that ona didn’t think you couldn’t handle yourself because you could. you just weren’t a fan of confrontation of any kind. especially when it came to the football pitch.

so when you ended up on the floor again, ona felt it was only right for her to get angry on your behalf. as you nursed your incredibly sore ankle, you could hear the heated discussion between ona, the ref, and whichever real madrid defender had taken their turn.

“are you okay?” aitana asked, holding her hand out to help you up.

you took it gratefully, wincing slightly as you put pressure on your ankle. she gave you a look but you waved her off. “i’m good. thanks aita.”

as the midfielder nodded and walked off, you could faintly hear the ref warning ona about her attitude. and if you weren’t in so much discomfort, you probably would’ve laughed at the sheer look of disbelief on your girlfriend’s face.

you managed to catch her eyes and when her eyebrows lifted slightly, you gave her an assuring smile. but unfortunately for you, ona knew you.

she could see the pain on your face as you limped back into position and even if you pretended you were okay, she had a feeling that you wouldn’t be on the pitch much longer if the defenders had anything to say about it.

luckily the halftime whistle blew before that happened and ona made her way over to you, wrapping her arm around your waist. you leaned into her, guiding her away from the changing room.

you leaned back against a wall, eyebrows furrowing when you felt ona’s hands dance around the bottom of your shorts.

“oni, what are you doing?” you asked quietly, hissing as she pressed down on a bruise. “ow! don’t do that!”

“you’re going to have lots of these.” she said and you nodded.

“i’m aware and if you touch any of them, i’ll hurt you, comprendida?”

ona rolled her eyes but nodded, and you pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “comprendida.”

the second half was going suspiciously well for you in the sense that you hadn’t been touched. it left a weird feeling in your stomach but you pushed it aside and ran down the field with patri in tow, the ball at her feet.

she kicked the ball towards you and you skilfully stepped around one of the defenders to retrieve it.

and for a second, everything was going to plan. you brought your foot back, ready to smash the ball into the back of the net when you felt two somethings—two someone’s—crash into your sides, twisting your leg awkwardly and making your head collide with another head.

since ona was still near the middle of the pitch, she could only watch on as you dropped to the floor, one hand cradling your head and the other clutching your knee. there was a crowd around you, a mixture of barcelona and real madrid players and the referee.

ona shoved her way through, glaring at the two players who were at fault. alexia stepped in front of the younger spaniard, cutting her view off as the medics ran over to tend to you.

“not the time or place.” alexia said quietly, nudging ona closer to the barcelona players.

along with the pain spreading through you, you were acutely aware that it was ingrid whispering reassurances and not ona but you didn’t have any energy left in you to really care.

once you were escorted to the medical room, your nose was plugged whilst your knee was examined and by some miracle, you came away with a mild concussion, a sprained knee, and a few weeks rest.

when ona followed around ten minutes later, her heart sunk at the sight of you bruised, bandaged, and crying quietly.

she threw her arms around you with a second thought and you melted into her, sighing softly. “did you get subbed off?”

you were met with silence for a few seconds. “…not exactly.”

your eyebrows furrowed and you moved back to look up at her, the guilty expression on her face telling you all you needed to know. “oh, oni, no—“

“it was not a straight red,” she told you, brushing her fingers along your cheek. “prometo mi amor.”

you shook your head fondly, leaning back into her. asking questions was pointless, you knew that whatever happened on the pitch was going to be discussed at length amongst the girls and it was probably plastered all over social media too.

after the medics had explained everything again to ona, the two of you slowly made your way into the changing room. and whilst you were met with sympathy from the older players, ona was met with excitement from the younger players. and mapi. who was quick to gently grab you and sit you down so she could be the one to tell you what happened.

you were pretty sure that mapi was over exaggerating absolutely everything she was saying. but you nodded along anyway since she was practically vibrating. you were fairly certain that ona didn’t go around two footing every single real madrid player on the pitch but judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, it wasn’t too far off what actually happened. and when ona’s face flushed red once mapi started the second yellow card part of the story, you were absolutely certain that the over exaggerating was no longer happening.

“i can’t believe you shoved her.” you giggled quietly to your girlfriend once everyone was situated comfortably on the bus. your legs thrown over her lap as she rubbed gentle circles into your ankle.

ona didn’t reply but you could see the flush on her cheeks again. you dug your heel into her leg, yelping as she pressed down on some of the many bruises littering your legs.

you slapped at her hands, glaring as she laughed, quickly overpowering you and pinning your hands down. “hey i’m injured, you can’t be mean to me.”

ona kissed the pout from your lips just as mapi’s head popped out of nowhere. “so we are thinking of starting a fight club—“

the spaniard was yanked away before she could say anything else which left you and ona sharing looks and giggles as you cuddled into her, a small smirk on your face. “maybe you should consider joining.”

the groan that left ona’s lips had you giggling again, the events of the day slowly becoming long forgotten. “por favor don’t start.”

“sorry, i’ll leave you alone now.”

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, the chattering of the other girls serving as background noise. ona pulled you closer and you hummed in content. “you don’t really mean that, do you?”

“i think we both know the answer to that, don’t we, mike tyson?”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader

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euseokz · 5 months

Text

@ eunseok — if only you knew just how crazy you’re driving me . . cws : oral (f) . overstimulation . wc : 1.1k+ . genre : smut

FWB! EUNSEOK who keeps an almost professional relationship with you.

all you guys do is fuck, that’s it, that’s all he wants, and he has made it obvious since the beginning. he doesn’t want to catch feelings, much less for you to fall for him, so he keeps his distance, only hits you up when he wants your body, and only goes to you when you call him because you want his. he even has a “no kisses” policy, adamant that you two never share any pecks even, the rule applying to anywhere on your bodies, because that apparently only creates attachment.

surprisingly enough, you were alright with eunseok and his stupid set of demands. you did get something good out of it either way — a good fuck and way of destressing, that is — and it wasn’t like he was unbearable or anything, just a tad bit too careful maybe. it was fine though, his carefulness if anything helpful.

when you fucked, eunseok liked to have you laid on his bed, legs thrown over his arms so he could pin you in place while he pistoned his hips into yours, not even bothering with looking up at your eyes, only focused at the way your pussy sucked his cock so well. strands of his hair would fall over his face, sticking to his forehead with the thin layer of sweat that covered it, low groans slipping past his rosy lips while his fingers dug into your thighs almost harshly. eunseok fucked you well, made you feel so good you almost forgot who you were at some points. there was just something about the way he moved, how effortlessly good he looked, how fucking well his dick fitted into your pussy and how his tip always hit against the right spot inside you with every single one of his thrusts. he knew what he was doing, knew how to make you two feel good, and that was all that mattered you supposed, nothing more needed.

you always took whatever eunseok gave you, followed his lead and allowed him to do whatever he thought best. even on the rare occasion that he pulled you to his lap, giving you a fake sense of control by being the one on top of him, he still managed to be the one fucking you, either by planting his hands on your hips and moving you up and down his dick at whichever pace he thought best, or by holding you still in place and fucking up into you. it felt good either way, so you allowed it, letting your lids fall close as you moaned about how good it was, holding onto his wrists or placing your palms against eunseok’s flushed chest for support, immersing yourself in the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of you so deliciously.

surprisingly enough, and maybe because there still was some weird kind of barrier between you two, even with how intimate you supposedly were, you never moaned eunseok’s name, and he never moaned yours, all your pretty sounds reserved to being either incoherent mewls or begs for more, no nicknames being exchanged either. neither of you had ever said that was a hard no, but you also never did it for some reason — until you did, and somehow that seemed to unlock something inside eunseok’s brain.

you had just gotten to eunseok’s apartment. it was a late friday night, and your week had been stressful to say the least. you wanted a way to relax, and eunseok knew that, your tired expression enough of a hint, so that was what he did, laying you down on his bed and undressing you silently, giving you one quick look before wrapping his arms around your upper thighs, spreading your legs so he could lay between them, his face near your pussy as he peeked his tongue out, it’s tip flicking almost experimentally over your clit. you hummed pleased, letting your shoulders finally fall down and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to immerse in the pleasure and simply rest back, moaning as you felt eunseok toy with the sensitive bud, licking it persistently but gently, applying just enough force to make arousal bubble in the pit of your stomach. it felt good, entirely too good, the way eunseok’s tongue kept on lapping at your clit, that was. eventually, the pink muscle drifted down and pressed into your hole, one of his fingers now circling the swollen bud instead, making you roll your eyes, you back arching ever so slightly as your fingers moved to hold strands of eunseok’s hair, pulling at them and bringing him closer to you, stuffing his face against your pussy. he only groaned, not protesting it at all, the fingers on his free hand digging harder into your inner thigh, pressing strongly against the plush flesh.

your moans were getting louder, your pleasure only increasing in magnitude, and before you knew it your high was starting to quickly build up, your orgasm hitting you hard, leaving your mind hazy with lust, and without even noticing it, amidst your loud moans, you whined eunseok’s name. it passed you by, but the same couldn’t be applied to the man between your legs, the way you professed his name making him tense up for a second before feeling his cock ache in his pants, looking up at your blissful face before deciding to continue.

eunseok wrapped his arms tighter around your upper thighs, keeping you in place while placing both hands on your pussy, using is thumbs to spread your folds and going back to lapping at your clit, this time more desperately, closing his eyes and focusing only on your taste, on how you felt against him. soon enough you could feel yourself getting overstimulated, and it wasn’t like eunseok was ever one to push you like that, so you tugged at his hair, getting surprised when he didn’t budge, if anything only seeming more eager to keep doing what he was doing — so you let him, moaning louder, arching your back and letting the overwhelming pleasure take over you, your pleas for more getting more constant, and each time you subconsciously said eunseok’s name your second orgasm coincidently seemed to draw itself closer, until you were finally cumming again, your clit twitching against eunseok’s tongue as your high washed over you once more.

then, and only because he needed to catch his breath too, eunseok pulled back, unwrapping his arms from around you and leaning back, moving to sit in front of you.

“what was all of that about?” you asked, breathless, looking up at eunseok, noticing how his cheeks were tinted with a pretty pink tone, his lips rosy and shiny with a mix of your arousal and his own saliva.

“something about how you said my name, it drove me crazy” he replied while moving up to you, hands stopping on either side of your head while his face was mere inches away from yours. “i need you to do it again… say my name again while i fuck you”

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yeyinde · 2 years

Text

body electric | everyone x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It starts like this:

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

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

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

Who wants some?

No one, not even Ghost, says no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanna gimme a kiss, hen?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's Rodolfo, then, who grounds you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, would you?

Would I…? Silence. Poignant. Stifling.

Would you ever have a gangbang?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now—

Now:

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

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

And they haven't even really started yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's intense. Surreal.

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

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

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

It's met with a soft moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're beautiful, mi Reina."

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

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

You gasp, wet and broken, and absolutely filthy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can it, and get over here."

"Impatient."

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

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

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

"Not my fault you waited too long."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Powerful. Sensual.

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

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

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

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

Happy, Alejandro said. Happy.

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

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

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

In for a penny.

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

"Fuck, look at you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"C—captain—"

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

Fuck, fuck fuck—

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

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

You want them. Want it.

"P—please—"

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

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

You wonder if Price tastes just as good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's good. It's too much. It's—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't focus. Can't think—

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

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

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

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

"Fuckin' hell—"

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

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

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

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

"Think she's ready for two?"

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

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

"Yeah, give her one more."

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

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

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

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

"Fuck, your pussy feels incredible—"

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

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

You want more.

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

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

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

Fuck. Fuck—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright, alright, cap."

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

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

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

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

Full.

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

"How does it feel, love?"

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

"It's—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's a little surreal, but—

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

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

Yet:

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

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

"Liked it, did you?"

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

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

It's good. It's—

Footsteps. A hush. A shadow falls over you.

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

Ghost's hands are hot on your sensitive flesh.

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

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

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

"S—sir—"

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

Shit. Shit—

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

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

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

"Fill me up, sir—"

He snarls.

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

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

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

"Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dance is familiar.

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

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

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

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

It's not good enough, though.

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

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

You can't—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon is a storm.

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

None comes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shit—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thought you got lost, Ghost—

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

(Someday, you think.)

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

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

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