#to take the place of nine fingers keene

[ineed-to-sleep]

decided to play the whole game again w nawen bc now I got her a fleshed out backstory + character development + most importantly. mods for pretty clothes

[captainfern]

Damnnnn, 70% of y’all want to see reader getting caught ? That’s crazzyyyy.. me too

Feed us captain 👩‍🦯

combined with:

Anonymous asked:

I know recs are closed but that's crazy that anon requested inexperienced reader with Gaz/Price bc I was gonna request inexperienced reader with Price where he talks her through/teaches her how to ride him 💀

-🌻🐾

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Marigold pt. 5

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - you and price get caught. let's see how this goes lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.1k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship?, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], unprotected piv, you go for a ride, praise, soft!price, this starts with smut then ends with plot? idk, strong language

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It had been about nine months since you and Price had been "together". Together was a bit of a stretch, but it had been just over nine months since you both began fucking each other, and fucking no one else besides each other. That was basically together, right?

With your dad out of the house for the day, you had invited Price around. You missed him. And although you had the intentions of just spending a cozy, lazy day with him, that idea flew out the window as soon as he walked through your bedroom door.

So you now find yourself straddling Price as he leans up against your headboard, his large hands on your hips. You have your hands on his shoulders as he slowly sinks you onto his cock, a soft groan passing through his lips. You keen, moaning desperately as he fills you slowly. It's almost too slow.

His cock drags along your walls, inching further and further. Price doesn't let you take control until the head of his cock nestles taut against your cervix, your clit flush with the thatch of hair around the base of his length.

You whimpered loudly as he grinds you against him, your body automatically listening to his non-verbal commands. The movements shoot hot bursts into the depths of your womb, swirling around the base of your tummy, your legs clamping tight around his lap.

"Come on then, sweetheart. Want you to ride me," he whispered, nosing the soft skin beneath your ear. "You can do that, can't you?"

You whimpered again, muscles already tired. After all, he had just dragged three orgasms from you five minutes ago. Two with his mouth, another with his fingers.

He kissed up the column of your throat as you attempted to drag yourself against him, but you whimpered for a third time when you couldn't be fucking bothered. Muscles, orgasm-lax. Core, fluttering and pulsing around him.

"Tired, sweetheart?" Price cooed gently, taking hold of your hips once more. "S'all right. I'll help you. I'll teach you."

He began to move you with his hands, pushing and pulling your hips in a fluid movement. He dragged you up and down gently, too, and you felt overstimulated at the feel of his hard cock against your slick walls. You whined at Price's gentle pace, and at the fact you could feel everything.

Your slick hole was a fluttering mess around him, making Price groan deeply into your neck, where he continued to suck bruises along the sensitive flesh. He rocked you against him, side to side, up and down. His grip was tight, but he was so gentle. He guided you through it, speaking softly, nothing more than a whisper as he praised you.

"Good girl, there you go. Just like that," he murmured, peppering kisses along your collarbone now. "Feel's so good. Making me feel so good."

You hummed a moan, scared that it would turn into another loud whimper. Price detached from your collarbone and placed his mouth to yours, kissing you slow. It lacked definitive movement, your lips smoothing together, smearing saliva as his tongue swiped against yours. You whined, your clit stimulated as he ground you against his pelvis.

"Perfect girl, sweetheart. My perfect girl. S'that feel good? You feel good, baby?"

You nodded, eyelids drooping. His cock was warm and heavy inside you, knocking firmly at the plug of your womb. Your arousal pooled around his cock and out of your cunt, stretched wide around him and glistening with the remnants of three orgasms already.

Your fourth one was already building. Buzzing like static in your lower abdomen, blooming into heat that made your legs tremble around Price's lap. His grip on you tightened, and he watched you as your face contorted in pleasure— eyes closing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

"Feels so good, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

"J-John..."

It was always when you were the most overstimulated, the most desperate, that his first name slipped out. And he fucking loved it, which is probably why he was so intent on getting multiple orgasms out of you each time you slept together.

"You can come, pretty girl. You want to come 'round my cock, yeah? Go on then, let go for me, sweetheart. Want to feel you come 'round me."

You moaned quietly as your orgasm rocked through you. You sobbed out in pleasure, the sting of pleasurable tears at the back of your eyes as you came around his cock. Your cunt squeezed him tight, and he grunted softly, continuing to fuck his cock into you as you fell lax against him.

"That's it, that's it, 'atta girl, so fucking good for me," he mumbled, thrusting into you a bit harder now, your arms clinging to his shoulders. "Such a good girl, baby. Did so well. 'M so proud of you, sweetheart."

You sobbed against his shoulder, body burning up. It felt so good. You were growing dizzy, overstimulation blanketing you. But Price kept you grounded.

"M'coming, m'coming, fucking hell..." He dragged out, grunting. He came deep inside you, filling you full and warm. You whimpered out, and he rubbed his hands down your back, soothing you.

You both fizzled down from your highs together, evening your breathing in silence. Soon after, Price lifted you from his lap and tucked you beneath your bedsheets, placing a kiss to your temple.

"Get some rest." He told you, before he was disappearing into your bathroom.

He had a quick shower, scrubbing himself using your body wash. He liked to smell like you. It was his favourite smell besides his own cologne. After, he wrapped a towel around his waist and, with his stomach grumbling, headed downstairs in search of something to eat.

He settled for some cereal, and ate it leaning against the kitchen counter. He wanted to eat with you, but the way you passed out as soon as he tucked you into bed made him stay downstairs, not wanting to disturb you further.

Halfway through his cereal, Price heard a car come up the driveway. He paused, spoon near his lips, listening as the engine stopped and a door open and closed. Footsteps, paired with a distinct humming.

Price lowered his spoon, sighing.

Your dad. Home early. Of course he was.

Now, Price knew that eventually, eventually, he'd come out and tell your dad— his best mate— that you and him were seeing each other. He just didn't expect it to be today. When he was wearing nothing but a towel. Eating cereal in your kitchen. You asleep and naked upstairs.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." His own words echoed around his head.

I guess today was the day he was crossing that fucking bridge.

Your dad entered the kitchen, humming happily to himself, but pulled up short when he saw Price in the kitchen. Price nodded in greeting, continuing to eat his cereal.

"Price, mate, what're you doing here?" Your dad smiled. "And... in a towel? Eating my cereal..."

Price shrugged. "Just thought I'd stop by. I... need to talk to you about something anyway."

"What's up?" Your dad asked, settling onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island across from Price. He looked Price up and down, letting out a low whistle. "Price, mate, how are you still in such good shape?"

Price chuckled. "That good ol' military physique, eh?"

Your dad chuckled too, his eyes on Price's neck. He laughed again, pointing to his own neck in a slightly awkward gesture. "You didn't tell me you had a lady?"

Hickeys.

Fuck.

Price cleared his throat. "That's... what I wanted to talk to you about."

He put his bowl of cereal in the sink adjacent, appetite gone. Your dad waited patiently for him to continue, a small smile on his lips.

"I've... been seeing this woman for about nine months now," Price said. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I genuinely couldn't imagine my life without her."

"Aww, how sweet." Your dad pouted, then chuckled softly. "D'you love her?"

"I do, yeah. I love her so much," Price ignored the emotion he could feel building up in the back of his throat. "There's just... a couple things I think you should know."

"You don't need my permission to date people anymore, Price. We're not twenty anymore," your dad said. "Unless it's my ex-wife. That would be deeply concerning."

"It is definitely not your ex-wife." Price replied.

"Good!" Your dad laughed. "So, do I know her?"

"Yeah, you do."

"Oh, really? Who?"

Price cleared his throat.

"Price, mate?"

Price sighed. "It's... fucking hell, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for—?"

"It's your daughter," Price said quickly. "I'm dating your daughter."

Your dad's mouth hung agape, and silence filled the kitchen. Price kept your dads gaze as best he could. He was fucking scared.

Your dad closed his mouth, and slowly got out of his seat. Price held a hand towards him, a gesture to take it easy and hold on for a second.

"My... daughter?" Your dad spoke lowly.

"Yeah... yes, fuck, I'm sorry, mate, this is not how I wanted to tell you—"

"You're dating my daughter?"

Price nodded. "I love her. I feel like such a shitty fucking friend, but I'm in love with her. I'm serious when I said she's the best thing to ever happen to me—"

"Price, I know you're my best friend," your dad was rounding the kitchen island now. "But I'm going to fucking kill you."

"Fair enough." Price said, and ran.

Your dad chased after him, Price holding his towel up as he sprinted out of the kitchen. He skidded into the hallway, careful not to slip on the hardwood floors, and flew up the stairs. Your dad was right behind.

"Price, you fucking bastard!" Your dad shouted. "My daughter? Of all fucking people?"

"I told you I'm sorry!" Price yelled back, reaching the top of the stairs. "I'm in love with her!"

"Like fuck you are!" Your dad growled as Price slammed into the door of your bedroom and tumbled inside.

Luckily, you were awake and dressed, shocked by the commotion. Price hit the ground, still holding desperately onto the towel around his waist, and your dad stepped over him. He pulled his pistol out of his belt and jammed it beneath Price's jaw.

Well, that fucking escalated.

"Dad! Stop!" You shouted, scrambling off your bed and diving to the floor, literally throwing yourself on top of Price and knocking your dads arm away.

Your dad backed up, fuming.

"You're dating John?" He breathed deeply, out of breath. He gripped his pistol, knuckles tight around it.

You swallowed nervously, feeling the rapid rise and fall of Price's bare chest beneath your hands. "I am."

Your dad cocked the pistol, and you let out a scared yelp.

"Dad, don't!"

"Move, honey."

"Please—"

"Get out of the way."

"I love him!"

Your dad paused. Price looked up at him, still catching his breath. You continued to lay your upper half over his chest protectively.

"I love him," you repeated in a whisper. "He treats me so well, Dad. I feel safe with him. Shouldn't that be what you are about most of all?"

Your dad seethed silently, looking between you and Price on the floor. Then, with a great sigh, he sunk to the floor too. He sat near the door, his pistol still in his hands while Price sat up, and you sat beside him, an arm around his waist.

"How long has this been happening?"

"Nine months." Price said.

"And... you're serious? About... about loving her?" Your dad asked as though the words were painful to get out.

Price answered straight away. "Yes."

Your dad pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in anger. He took a deep breath before he looked back up. He looked to you now.

"You love him, eh?"

You nodded.

"And he treats you well?"

You nodded again.

"For fucks sake," he hissed, then threw the pistol at Price. It hit Price's chest, and Price grunted. Your dad sighed. "Why'd it have to be my daughter, Price? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things." He said. He picked up the pistol, and found that it was empty.

Your dad calmed himself. "Right... right, okay. I'm really fucking pissed but... I mean, you're an adult, honey. I'm... I'm not going to stop you from seeing Price, but I'm not fucking happy about it."

You beamed. You couldn't help it.

"You'll come around." Price said.

Your dad scowled. "Don't fucking push it."

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i stopped it here because i'm lazy

honestly this turned out so unserious but i think i prefer it that way lol

[epiclamer]

hii if you are taking requests,, a confident detective x mute/(semimute) villain,, like if they’re interrogating and villains likes 🙃

directions it takes up to you..

- if you don’t still know that am appreciating your writing a lot !! :D

Awwww, this could be... cute?

Language Barrier

Detective placed their neatly organized files onto the interrogation table with a dull 'thwap'. Pulling a chair out and seating themselves, Villain compared them idly to their files. Both of them dressed in a dark navy blue, with white--maybe beige--underneath.

"Villain, you are being detained under investigative motive for the murder of... Civilian." The detectives' eyes flicked from fixing their cufflinks to the criminal. "Is that correct?"

The villain couldn't help their smirk, but their demeanour didn't change otherwise. They noticed the cursive handwriting on the folder matched the detective's name tag, careful and tidy, just like every other aspect of them.

Upon the stretching silence the detective sighed, pulling their folder close before opening its pages to the villain's keen eyes. Villain found it almost intimate, but they often read into things too much. It was awfully easy when one was constantly stuck in their own head, mulling things over again and again.

Smoothly, the detective slid a large printed photo towards the villain, facing it towards them as they spoke. "This is you, correct?" The image was blurry, taken from a security camera Villain figured. "On the night of the fifth?"

The one in question didn't even bother to open their mouth nor communicate. Truthfully, the one in the footage was them, but purely by incident of 'right place, wrong time'. They had left by the backdoor only minutes later after realizing their error... The backdoor that had no camera to prove it.

This was going to be a shit-show no matter how they decided to deal with it, they may as well have a little fun.

"A simple yes or no will do the trick." The detective deadpanned, expression falling flat as they were losing their patience.

Villain grinned, shrugging as they leaned back in their seat; they were beginning to grow fond of this detective.

The detective made a face, somewhat mocking, somewhat annoyance, before they retrieved the image and shuffled through what seemed to be the next part of their discoveries. "You know your rights?" Holding a text document in hand they looked back up to the villain. "Or you just like being a pain in my ass?" They frowned, putting the document back as they continued their search.

Evidently, the villain said nothing. Tapping their fingers against their lap in boredom as they waited for the other to find what they needed to 'crack' the villain.

"Aha!" The detective blurted, jumping just a little bit off their seat due to their uncontrolled excitement.

Cute.

Villain would definitely have to come back sometime later, or break into their apartment. Either one would do.

Before the villain could blink a paper was shoved into their face. It was an image of text messages, ones off their personal phone which they had kept as private as possible. Apparently not to the detective.

"Proof. That you were the last person in contact with the victim and your conversation is practically a confession." The detective waved their arms around a little while the villain studied the messages, sure they were off their personal phone, but they weren't theirs. They didn't even know the victim, let alone have text arguments with them.

The criminal's mouth hung open, reading over and over the words in bubbles across the paper. Triple checking the number at the top to make sure it wasn't theirs...

Seven-Nine-One Three-Two-Nine Five-Five-Eight-Seven

It was theirs alright.

"Got ya." The detective peered over the print, a smug smile on their moisturized face, giving it a sheen and a soft smell of coconuts. With two hands on the table they leaned forwards even more. "Still speechless? Or have you got something to say now that you've been caught?"

Villain lowered the image back to the table, noses practically touching between the two of them when there was no barrier left. Deftly they swiped the prestigious looking pen from the detective's pocket, flipping the text picture over onto its face as they began to write, ignoring the yelp from the other.

'For someone as thorough as yourself, you still managed to miss the most important detail in your case.'

After twenty-four hours had passed the villain had been released due to insufficient evidence. With the detective unable to get them to 'talk' and the villain refusing to elaborate further, the officers had no choice.

Two days later, when the villain couldn't help themselves anymore, they were one foot through the window of the detectives' house when their eyes caught on the silhouette in the corner. Hunched over a book, mumbling incoherently to themselves and squinting against the light of their computer screen, Villain's heart pounded in their ears when they realized the detective was learning sign language.

[pinkmirth]

Bertholdt being shy about how big his dick is has me kicking my feet n twirling my hair <33

He would 100% roll his hips against yours when you’re making out with him n then get shy when you’re surprised because you can feel how big n heavy his cock is sjfjakcnkand

𝒢ℰ𝒩𝒯ℒℰ 𝒢ℐ𝒜𝒩𝒯 . . !

𝓈𝓎𝓃ℴ𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: based on this post! a teensy-tiny drabble for bertl! my sweet big boy 💘

𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈: (700+ words of . . .) aged up!bertholdt hoover x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, bertl has a mega size kink, handjob, oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex, mention of bertl’s big bawls, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

omfg sandie!!! now this is everything to me! there’s nothin’ like a giant man who can’t truly grasp just how large he is.

bertholdt is well aware of his height— since his earliest memories he’s towered over others, standing head and shoulder above them. but when it comes to size-size? bertl doesn’t fully register how big he is. this bashful man don’t got a clue in the world!

your reaction to bertl discarding his underwear is what gets him to finally understand. to you, he already looked fairly large when wearing his boxers, but witnessing the real thing proves to be a stark difference. you unashamedly observe your boyfriend’s fat dick as it throbs lewdly, free of any confines. he can feel your keen eyes fixate on him.

“you’re fuckin’ huge.” you release the airiest whisper.

to that, bertholdt’s breath catches in his throat, adam’s apple bobbing. he gets self-conscious, even more so than usual. a stream of questions swirl about in his head. is he too big? will you be able to handle him? are there even condoms in his size?

his worries quickly dissipate once you begin to wrap your dainty fingers around his cock. you stroke whatever you can manage to reach, touching down his shaft and twirling your hand over the precum-smeared tip. you gaze at his endowment with lust-blown eyes, seemingly appreciative of what he has to offer.

“how big are you, baby?” he doesn’t know. hell, he’s never cared to check or measure before now. your assumption is nine whole inches, maybe ten.

“i— fuck,” he lets a foul whine slip past, bringing a hand to cover his mouth. he shyly speaks through his slender fingers, “i-i’m not sure...” with a stammer, bertholdt instinctively rolls his hips, bucking against your hand. his pale-green eyes stay trained on how you can barely close your fingers around the base of his girthy dick. in that very moment, within the depths of his mind, he can practically hear a switch flicking— that’s the size kink he never knew he had, officially turning on.

following that experience, bertholdt’s shyness considering his length doesn’t get any better. he’s easily flustered, but also more self-aware than he’s ever been. bertl starts to notice how wide your plush lips stretch around his cockhead when taking him into your wet, pliant mouth. he finds it amusing; how you can’t mutter a word when he fills up your throat, weighty and pulsing against your tongue.

he admittedly likes to give himself a rush during sex, by sizing you up— placing his rigid cock onto your tummy, just to make an estimate of how far he’ll reach. before long, he brushes past your folds and pushes into your velvety cunt. you clamp down fervidly, eager to take all of him.

he’s settled in your womb. you’re so fucking full. “it’s big,” you brainlessly mewl. bertl interlocks his fingers with yours, cheeks dusted red. he makes slow, impassioned thrusts forward, swiveling his hips to plunge into you just right.

“is it too much, love?” bertholdt’s words spill out shakily, wavering breaths dropping from his agape mouth. dark shaggy bangs fall across his forehead. you thread your hand through his hair to help him brush it back. faint traces of sweat trail down his forehead. “uh-uh. it’s perfect, baby,” you reassure with a soothing smile, pressing your lips to his. he returns the haphazard kisses, immodestly groaning into your mouth.

you’re always given generously thick loads when he finishes, because his balls are fat and heavy, too. bertholdt is slowly, but surely, learning how to use his imposing size for your benefit.

[esamastation]

Part fifty-four of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three

-

Now, Reno could be an impartial observer about this. He probably should be. Just do his job, sign his report, hand over his duty to someone else, and wash his hands of the whole mess.

But on the other hand, "So. Flying, huh?"

Sephiroth has the gall to look sheepish about it. He is actually fucking blushing. "Well. That's not exactly it, but, yes? Is that a problem?"

Reno eyes him flatly for a moment. Then he shrugs. "Hell if I know. You know, for a while there I thought you were actually trying to keep your magical metamorphosis thing down low, but you just don't give a fuck, do you?" It's kinda impressive, really.

"Um," Sephiroth answers, and takes a dainty little sip of his tea.

Reno snorts. "You're something else," he says and falls to sit across from him on the other side of the tiny little tea table. Then he looks around.

They're alone in the main hall of the safehouse. Hewley and Rude are out picking up Tseng from the town, and it's just him and Mr. No Gravity, and Reno doesn't mind admitting he might actually miss the place. It's still hilarious that Sephiroth turns into a prissy princess when it comes to decor, but Reno can't say he doesn't know what he's on about.

He actually made the place really nice, for an abandoned house. As safehouses went, it was up there.

Sephiroth watches him curiously. "Looking forward to returning to Midgar?"

"God, yes," Reno says emphatically. "I'm going to find the nearest Pilferer's, and I'm going to forget all about your… everything."

"Pilferer's?"

"It's a chain of pubs," Reno explains, waving a hand. "Shit beer for cheap, good for one thing only."

"Ah," Sephiroth huffs in amused offence. "I'm not that bad, surely."

Well, no. Reno once had to act as Scarlet's bodyguard - that is still the worst assignment he's ever had. This doesn't come even close. But… "I don't know, man. You're kinda weird."

Sephiroth blinks at that, and Reno grimaces looking away. Sephiroth it's also kinda terrifying, even like this. Actually maybe especially like this. After his training sessions and meditations Sephiroth is all relaxed and cosy - it's probably the safest he is to be around, but it's weird.

It really brings home the fact that the guy is different from what he was. Even without Hewley there to react to it, you can tell. Sephiroth is someone else these days, and his shitty lying aside, none of them actually know him. And the guy isn't that keen on explaining.

… You know what, fuck it. Reno's out of here by the end of the evening anyway. "Are you ever going to explain what the hell is going on to anyone, or are we going to have to keep on guessing?" he asks.

Sephiroth hums, noncommittal.

"Because dude, it's going to have consequences in the long run. If not for you, then for the other SOLDIERs," Reno points out. "You know that, right?"

That makes the guy react with more than demure deflection, and Sephiroth lowers his cup. "Consequences like what?"

"Oh, you know, life-altering experiments in all the worst ways?" Reno asks and points a finger at him. "You realise what this all looks like from the outside, right? You get a deadly dose of Mako and boom, new abilities? You can be sure they're going to try to recreate those results."

Sephiroth frowns at that, looking down. He taps his finger against the tea cup for a moment and then shrugs. "I don't see what there is that I can do about that," he says and looks up at Reno pointedly. "First sign of trouble, and you ferried me out of Midgar, I assumed it was to get me out of the way."

"Well, yeah. For a reason," Reno shrugs and leans back a little. Fuck, the Mako shine is spooky when it's aimed at you like this, in dim light where you can tell the guy's eyes are actually emitting their own glow. "Seemed kinda necessary to keep you from going berserk again and killing someone important. Like Professor Hojo."

Sephiroth makes a funny sort of face at that, and sips his tea. From scary to embarrassed. Yay.

Never mind, Reno isn't going to miss this place at all. "Fuck it, whatever. I don't care," he decides. "Soon you'll be Tseng's problem, and I won't waste another moment thinking about you."

"I am hurt and heartbroken," Sephiroth says blandly and snorts at the face Reno makes at him. "You have been a most pleasant babysitter, Reno of the Turks. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to get to know you."

"Oh, put a cork in it."

"No, I'm serious," Sephiroth says. "I've always found the Turks to be intriguing. Your… work ethics are almost admirable."

Reno eyes him dubiously. "You're fucking with me."

Sephiroth grins, clasping the little tea cup loosely between both hands. "Not at all. There's a core of morals that runs through your agency that I find fascinating. The scary, underhanded enforcers and spies of Shinra - hiding just enough of a shred of decency to make you… rational. Practical and yet, strangely, sympathetic."

Reno gapes at him. What the fuck - where the hell did that come from?

Sephiroth chuckles at his expression. "I think I would quite like you, if the circumstances were different," he muses and pours himself another cup of tea.

Reno feels like objecting. He can feel his cheeks heating up. "You are absolutely fucking with me."

Sephiroth grins a little wider at that, and - damn, the guy's smiles are kinda devastating. Reno had been carefully not noticing, because, hello, job, but damn. Who the hell made this guy so hot? His lips are insanely pretty.

Reno is suddenly very aware that it's been a while since he last got laid and that he really desperately needs a drink. 

"Tseng is originally from Wutai, isn't he?"

"Wha?"

Sephiroth arches his brows and tilts his head. A stand of silver hair slides across his shoulder. "Tseng. Is he from Wutai?"

Reno thought he'd gotten used to the fancy dress shirts - and hell, Sephiroth had his chest pretty much completely bared before! Why the hell are just two buttons undone so sexy all of a sudden?!

"Oh, um. Yeah?" Reno agrees and clears his throat, shaking his head. Don't look at his collarbones. "He knows the lay of the land better anyway, so, you know, if your little soiree with the Wutai Captain has a follow up, he'll probably know what's up." … Uh.

Sephiroth gives him that slow blink again, and Reno doesn't blame him - it sounds like complete nonsense to him too.

Damn it, get it together, man, the guy isn't that fuckable!

… Except that he really, really is, and Reno wishes he could go back to professionally not noticing it.

"That's good, I suppose," Sephiroth says slowly. "I'll be looking forward to hearing his insights."

"Yeah, yeah, sure…" Tseng also knows more about Ancients than anyone not dead or in the Science Department, so whatever is going on with Sephiroth, Tseng would be able to figure it out. Probably.

Reno looks at Sephiroth's stupidly pretty face and then clears his throat. "Well, it's been - different. Let's never do it again. Try not to go nuts and kill any important scientists in the future, okay?"

Sephiroth looks away, his eyes going a little distant. "... No promises," he murmurs. Except coming from him, it's more of a purr, isn't it?

Fuuuck, Reno really needs to get out of here.

It's probably a good thing Tseng seems to kinda dislike Sephiroth for some reason. He wouldn't have this problem.

-

Get **** beamed.

[biteofcherry]

Grain of Truth  -  part eight

*disclaimer: the picture used in the banner is no indication for how the Reader looks, it only serves the vibe of the story, it’s not a description

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

Summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

Warnings for this chapter: heat (mating cycles); smut; unprotected sex; knotting; cum play; A/B/O dynamics; marking; bonding; dominance; Dom/sub undertones; soft!dark Steve;

word count: 4.1k

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth previous parts:   

 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Nine |

Heat pleasure always felt heightened. A sort of an euphoric high that you rode, until your body gave out and your brain shut off into sleeping mode. 

However, it was nothing compared to the intensity of going through it with Steve. 

The need for your alpha was skyrocketing, consuming you whole; mindless and animalistic. 

With any previous heat a few good orgasms from your fingers, or your toys, had you sated and smiling. The heat triggered by your alpha’s presence was like a fever that only grew each time he took you.

Wet and sticky, so full of him, so sore; and yet you mewled for him desperately when Steve forced you to take a break from his cock. 

You scrunched up your nose, glaring at him indignantly as he fed you pieces of chocolate bars and brought a water bottle to your lips. Nutrition wasn’t something you ever cared for in your heat, usually forgetting about anything beside little sips now and then. 

Maybe that’s what alphas were for during a heat - to satisfy your aching cunt and care for your wellbeing. 

You definitely preferred the first part. 

Which is why you tried to nibble on Steve’s fingers instead of the chocolate; why you rubbed yourself against his thigh like a needy bitch. 

He had to pin you down a few times, growling at you to behave and eat more. 

Honestly, Steve growling only made things worse. 

As did his hand wrapped around your throat and the heavy weight of his body trapping you in.

It made you keen and leak, a fresh rush of your potent scent provoking Steve's raw attack. 

Much later, when your determined to get wrecked brain switched off as your stomach grew taut with how much of his cum spilled past your cervix, Steve used your pliant body to sate his own never ceasing craving.

Still emitting faint heat hormones, just boneless and acquiescent, your body called to the alpha to claim you over and over. 

Even without you actively trying to climb him, too fucked out to even beg for his knot, Steve followed the mating instinct that drove him nearly mad with the need to take you again. Fill you again. Bite you again.

A few times he’d gratuitously allowed you reprieve; stroked himself as he watched your spread body and reminisced on the things he’s done to you. 

He came all over your belly and chest. A second time over your back and ass. Twice on your face, scooping splashes of thick, white cream and pushing them between your lips.

You suckled them clean so eagerly, your scent spiking again as the taste of his cum stirred the last flames of your heat from its lull; it made him painfully hard again. 

And so he fucked your boneless body without remorse. Hooked his arms beneath your bent knees as he drove deep.  

When his knot deflated and he slipped out of your fluttering pussy, Steve took a few deep, calming breaths. A short pause to let your body stop twitching from overstimulation. 

Then he kneeled up and cradled the back of your head in his hand, holding it in place as he nudged your lips with the tip of his cock. You opened eagerly, big glossy eyes staring up at him as he slowly rocked into your hot mouth to get himself hard again.

Hard enough to move your body into a new position and thrust inside you. The way you cried Alpha each time he stretched you anew, was the most intoxicating feeling.

The primal side of Steve swelled in triumph and delight as he finished for the final time and looked at you - your broken body quivering beneath him, belly slightly bulged, the imprint of his teeth on your mating gland.

A new day was brightening outside. The third one, Steve calculated. Or maybe fourth? 

What his frantic brain might’ve thought to be a few hours could in fact be close to twenty four. Not that he cared much. He could spend a week, or two, with you in the nest, if you asked him to. If you needed him.  

Though he suspected you won’t like staying much longer on the completely soiled fabrics. Much less remaining sticky all over. For now, however, you were unable to move an inch to leave the nest and Steve had no desire to separate from you. 

He dug between the layers of the nest and pulled out the least nasty blanket, draping it over you both as he settled on his side facing you. 

He placed a hand on your hip and your body rolled closer. It was an instinct to be as close to your alpha even in your drowsy state. 

Steve held you, arm loosely wrapped around you and his nose buried in your hair. He felt an indescribable, peaceful sensation spreading through him like a warm wave. A sense of joy and contentment. Of being in the right place.

Of belonging. 

You slept for a few hours and Steve dozed off along with you. The moment your consciousness began reconnecting with reality, he woke up as well. 

It wasn’t the bond, but the still heightened instinct to attend to your needs if the heat hasn’t fully subsided. 

But you only hummed and stretched alongside him. You rolled onto your back, eyes closed. You felt the heavy arm across your body, an intimate and possessive act that brought a faint smile to your lips.

You placed your hand atop Steve’s forearm, caressing his skin with delicate brushes of your fingers. When you moved your legs, muscles in your thighs spasmed and the burn in them returned. 

As if connected to the sensation, your core pulsed with soreness.

Oh! Your eyes fluttered open.   

So many sensations tingled in your body. An ache which you suspected would only spread once you tried walking. 

If you’d even be able to take a step, with the imprint of Steve’s cock and knot still fresh in your ruined pussy. 

But you never felt this satisfied, this… delirious bliss. 

You wanted to grin and laugh, and keep stretching even though each of your muscles would strain in reminder of the brutal tumble your body was subjected to for hours and hours. 

You wanted to curl into a ball and hide in your alpha’s strong arms; have his heavy weight on you and his breath on your neck. 

Your brain, still quite mushy from the post-orgasmic haze, suddenly pinged with alertness. 

The mark over your mating gland was throbbing pleasantly, in tune with the joyous pulsing in your whole body. 

With trembling fingertips, you touched the bitten spot, feeling the content warmth and pride swell in your heart. A heart that seemed to pound with strength unknown to it until now.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Steve bewildered. Then you forced your body to roll to your side, needing to face him fully. Needing him to hold you closer even as the itch to punch him grew.

“You bonded me,” you whispered, astonishment breaking into a betrayal. 

A part of you knew that bonding would be something Steve insists on, but you thought of it as something to happen much later in your relationship. 

Not only did it happen so soon, but he snapped it into place at your most vulnerable and submissive state. 

“Yes.” Steve replied softly, as if it was the most natural and obvious thing. 

He frowned, seeing your eyes well with tears. Your body was still pressed to his, your leg found its way over his thigh, but you tilted your head back from him. 

At first he didn’t understand your reaction, then he remembered how new all of this was to you. How foreign the concept of true mates was to you. 

For years you held onto your own presumptions, building lies on stereotypes to shield yourself from ever forming a relationship with any alpha. 

You skipped some important truths in your need to rebel.

You had to enroll back to some classes, or maybe at least talk to Amita about the basic truths you chose to never learn. Otherwise the hurdles along your future path may lead to catastrophic outcomes. 

“Hey,” Steve said your name in a soothing tone and moved one of his hands to cup the back of your head and make you look at him. “Can you take a deep breath for me and focus on what exactly you’re feeling on the bond spectrum?” 

Instinct told you to struggle, but your body was too spent to put any real resistance. You sneered at Steve, but he only held you in place and asked you to focus once again. 

So you did. With every intention of pouring your irritation into it so hard that Steve feels it like a punch over the mating bond. 

However, the deeper you sank into what you were sensing inside of you, the calmer you were. There was a tiny hint of worry, but overall it was a calm certainty of feelings, a bloom of love and serenity. 

And you knew they weren’t your emotions.

Yours were still a bit uncertain, chaotic, wonderfully in the whirlwind of slowly falling in love and considering running away.

You understood then that what you felt when you focused on the bond were Steve’s feelings. The heartbeat you thought was yours, only stronger, was Steve’s. 

“I feel you.” You whispered, eyes going wide. 

Steve traced a finger over your cheek and then down to your arm. He took your hand in his and put it over his sternum. 

“That’s what I did.” He explained. “A mating bite is a gift, not a demand. I bit you, because I was ready to open to you. To give you access to my feelings.” 

You frowned, not grasping the full meaning behind his words. Every scrap regarding a mating bond that ever reached your mind (though back then you didn’t even want to know it), described it as a brand an alpha puts on his omega to have her tied to him.

Steve’s explanation spoke of something completely opposite. Was he trying to veil the breach of trust and forcing you to bond with him with pretty fairy tales? 

Steve sighed, noticing your confusion. 

“You’re thinking of a mating bond as something that’s like a leash. Or a GPS tracker.” He rolled his eyes, suspecting where such ideas might come from. 

Surely not from true stories, or even academic research, since you avoided any true mating topic like a plague.

It had to be based on deranged, exaggerated romance novels, or shitty TV shows glorifying miscommunication and abuse. No wonder you were so against mating and creating a bond. 

“Some of the alpha romances really have it all wrong and the authors should be walloped for that.” Steve growled with irritation. 

“In truth, the bond allows one to sense the distress of the partner and react quicker, but most of all it’s a final act of showing your commitment.” Steve tapped the back of your hand that rested above his heart. “And it’s the biting partner that opens up, not the one getting the bite.” 

“That makes zero sense.” You blurted out.

“Oh, and the other way around makes more sense?” Steve chuckled. “Or are you just so used to seeing it your way that it’s hard to accept it’s the opposite?” 

Steve rolled his body over you, trapping you beneath his massive form once again. And like it happened every time he did it, your body tingled with anticipation. 

However, he didn’t part your legs, didn’t rut into you; didn’t even steer his touch to an intimate sphere. 

“A bite over a mating gland is like giving a wedding ring.” He leaned down, rubbing the tip of his nose along yours. “Me giving it to you as a sign of my commitment. Of me trusting you with my heart and mind.” 

You felt the truth behind his words inside you, felt it on that hook in your heart. 

“You feel me. But I don’t feel you.” 

There was an undertone of sadness in Steve’s voice, but it wasn’t a manipulation to force the right words out of you. And now you were certain of it, because you sensed it through the bond.

For the first time it seemed you were on even footing with Steve, being able to tell if he was honest or just wanted to trick you. 

In the uneven power dynamic between an alpha and omega that provided you a power of your own. 

“You don’t feel what I feel?” You asked, still hesitant. “You don’t know what I think?”

All the times he figured out there was something bothering you, or the way he so easily played your body as if he knew all the weak spots before discovering them. And he knew that without having the bond in place? 

If Steve gained even more insight into you, as the two way bond guaranteed, you’d be powerless against him.

“No, not until you bite me.” Steve brushed his lips over yours. “When you bite my mating gland, only then can I truly sense you. Only then the actual true bond snaps into place.” 

You opened your lips to accuse him of already having weird access to your thoughts, but Steve’s soft huff of laughter interrupted you.

“I’m good at reading people and you wear some of your emotions on your beautiful face.” He teased you. 

“And your body has tells too…” one of his hands slid along your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

Your nipple instantly hardened, your back arching upward so you could rub against Steve’s naked chest.

“You’re so very responsive.” Steve hummed appreciatively. 

“You- you’re distracting from the main topic.” You scolded, but it sounded too breathy and helpless to impress anyone. Plus, your treacherous body preferred to follow the newly ignited spark of arousal. 

“I’m distracting?” Steve’s hand traveled further south. “I’m not the one splayed so openly; so warm and wet, and smelling of me.” 

“That’s also your fault,” you groaned when he nudged your legs apart and settled his weight between them. “You covered me in your cum almost head to toe.” 

It was absolutely filthy, some of the things he did to you. Yet your body and the primitive hindbrain of yours shaked in ecstasy. 

“Mhm, there are still some unsoiled nooks.” Steve’s voice lowered as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds and further down. 

“Nu-uh,” you shook your head even as your body opened up to his ministrations, “I’m not taking it up the ass.” 

Steve’s eyes darkened, a single digit circling your puckered hole. 

“Not yet,” he whispered, moving his fingers back to your sopping entrance, “but not never.” 

Deep in your belly you felt a shot of lust - dark and heady, and so possessive it couldn’t be yours. It punched the air out of your lungs as you realized it was Steve’s arousal spiking, spurred by your awaiting body and whatever filthy thought he had. 

“Let’s stick to the Not part, for the moment.” You groaned at the gentle push of a single finger between your swollen walls.

There was already so much your body went through this heat - a summary of all your sexual encounters tripled wouldn’t match the number of times you came on Steve’s cock. Adding to it something far beyond your experience, surely would kill you. 

You slid your arms around Steve's back, your touch hungry to feel each ripple of his muscles. 

For all things you could complain about Steve, his body was a fucking wonder. 

And it's all mine to enjoy, your own possessive inner beast purred proudly. 

You squirmed, wincing slightly when Steve eased a second finger into you. He paused, digits buried deep, but unmoving.

 “Sore?” His eyes took in every detail of your face; from the microgrimaces to the way your pupils dilated and your irises shined. “Think you can take me one more time?”

“Ugh,” if you listened to the reasonable part of your brain, you’d put a stop to it. 

But it seemed Steve fucked out any reason from your brain, leaving only that raw, primal need to submit and subject to his demands.

“I want it.” Your hips rocked up into his hand; your nails needling the skin on his back. 

“I want you, too.” Steve licked over your bottom lip, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. “I want you to feel all of me.”

Breath turning erratic, tiny whimpers cracked your voice as you snorted - “I’m pretty sure there’s an imprint of your cock inside me.” 

Steve’s soft chuckle tickled your chin. His blue eyes sparked, eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. He looked down at you, holding your gaze as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the head of his shaft. 

“Sweet brat.” He crooned, pinning you in place as your body seized at the stretch. 

“I mean that I want you to sense what I’m feeling when I’m fucking you.” He inched agonizingly slow inside. 

Perhaps he thought it to be merciful, to do it slowly and gently. Or maybe the bastard thrived, knowing it was a maddening little suffering for you to feel him stretch wide your abused pussy. 

“You’re more coherent now, you can focus on the bond. Feel how I want you.” 

His hips pushed harder against you. Your legs fell wider apart, spread like a used ragdoll’s. With his weight and the force of his movement, Steve caused your hips to tilt upwards. 

It made his cock sink even deeper. 

The tip nestled against your cervix, yet he seemed to keep pushing and pushing, until all of him was sheathed within your stretched walls and his balls met your butt. 

“Feel how I love you.” Steve murmured and kissed you. 

Sensations burst inside you. Intense elation and overwhelming lust. Light and dark, an intoxicating combination of care and possessiveness. It rushed through your veins with rapture close in power to the peak of your heat. 

You never knew how love feels for others. To be honest, while you experienced falling in love before you never felt true love yourself, not a type different from how you loved your family. 

What you sensed through the bond was overpowering. Emotions that couldn’t be contained and which held determination to fight the world to keep their center protected - to keep you protected. 

It nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

You tightened your arms around Steve, clinging to him with all what was left of your strength. 

Your head fell back on the mattress, neck strained, offering him the gland he already marked as his. 

Your legs dangled limp, swaying with Steve’s each hard thrust. 

“Oh- ohh! Steve!” 

That you screamed his name when climaxing, not his designation, meant to him the world at that moment. 

While the primal side of Steve wanted you to call him your alpha when he fucked you in full heat, now that he showed you what his bonding meant and that it came from him - Steve - he hoped you accepted it. 

Accepted that he was offering you all of himself, not just hunting you down to be your alpha.

Steve shuddered above you as one of your hands slid up, your fingers weaving in his hair and you weakly pulled his head down to yours. 

“You’re everywhere.” You muttered deliriously, eyes clenched shut and streaks of tears trailing down your temples. “I’m all filled with you.” 

You undid him with those words, though you weren’t even aware of anything beside his hot cum spilling inside you and the wave of blinding tranquility pouring through the bond. 

“Fucking love you.” Steve whispered into your hair as he gathered you in his arms, rolling to the side and pulling you along with him. 

You came to your senses sooner this time, but instead of switching your attention to reality, you sank further into Steve’s embrace and the hues of deep, soft emotions pulsing through you with each beat of his heart. 

It was impossible to comprehend the complexity of feelings which Steve bore for you. Could it be love? It certainly felt stronger than what even the most dramatic romances described. 

You weren’t sure if you’ll be able to ever feel anything akin to it. 

It crushed you to think how broken Steve would be, if your feelings for him never reached such height. 

For now, you relished in his closeness. Maybe it was the subsiding heat and post-orgasmic tranquility, but for the first time you allowed yourself to fully submerge into this intimacy with Steve. And you realized how much you liked his proximity, how safe and at peace you felt with him. 

Surprisingly, you also became aware that when he pulled on your pigtails and provoked certain bratty reactions from you, despite the annoyance and the need to rebel, his presence always made you feel secure. 

You stirred when Steve’s hand, with which he was caressing your back, tugged on your hair. With a hum you craned your neck to peer up at him.

“Want to take a shower?” He asked, reminding you of the filthy state of your body.

Steve was pretty ruined too, but somehow it was you that surely painted a picture of disgusting debauchery. Though you left quite a few scratches all over his body, he wasn’t the one covered in bruises and cum. 

“I really do, but-” heat burned under the skin of your face and you hid it in his chest again.

“But what?” Steve asked curiously.

“But I fear that if I stand up, not only will I leak buckets, but my legs will give out.” You blurted on a single breath, not looking up. 

Steve laughed, his chest shaking with a purring rumble beneath your cheek. It only grew in resonance when you did lift your head to glare at him. 

“Yeah, you’ll be leaking for days.” He said it with a smug smirk. “But I can help with the other part.”

Before you knew it, Steve was out of the nest - fast and agile, as if he didn’t just have a few-days-long sex marathon. He picked you up easily, one arm behind your back the other under your knees. Your breath hitched in your lungs when he did that. 

As he carried you to the ensuite bathroom, you cast a glance at the mess of a nest on the huge bed. It didn’t look as perfect, or as comforting as it did when you built it. Worse, it bore crusted and fresh, shiny marks of intense coupling. 

The nests you built for your heats when you spent them alone at home were never ruined like that. There was rarely an item out of place once you were done. 

In the shower stall Steve had to keep your body up, since your legs really gave out when he put you down on your feet. You leaned against him, only slightly embarrassed as he cleaned your body. 

Steve was gentle in the way he touched you. Focused on caring for you, cherishing you, not once trying to use the situation to arouse you. Though some parts of your body responded to his touch anyway. 

You tried helping him wash, too, but your strained muscles made you less efficient. When Steve guided your soapy hand over the plains of his body, directing you in how to clean him, well… that worked you up more than his tender touching did. 

Afterwards, he sat you up on the bathroom counter and patted you dry before toweling himself off. Slipping on a pair of simple, gray sweatpants, he helped you into a fresh t-shirt of his. It was big enough to cover most of your butt. 

“Food or sleep?” Steve asked, lifting you up into his arms once again. 

“Both.” You yawned into his shoulder. 

“Feed you while you’re sleeping?” Steve snorted, carrying you out of the bathroom and out through the bedroom door. “That’s an interesting concept. How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re the all knowing alpha. Figure something out.” 

A cheeky smile spread on your lips as you leaned your cheek against Steve’s shoulder. Seemed you found another positive side of having an alpha as your partner - you could be carried around and spoiled a bit.

[skinomyteethh]

Hey!! i was wondering if you could write something on izzy maybe i don’t know if this will make sense but he gets embarrassed during sex? you know, trying to normalise things that happen during sex that arnt spoke about (in most) of the fics i read but it’s totally cool if your not comfortable with it!💞

₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ first time nervousness

pairing: izzy stradlin x fem! reader.

summary: accidents happen!

contains/warnings: reader and izzy's first time. fingering. slight nipple play ig. little pussy slapping. oral (f. receiving). etc.

authors note: OKAY SO i tried my best to like execute the idea of izzy getting embarrassed and like mixing it with the fact that accidents also happen while having sex sometimes and that it doesn't have to kill the mood. I hope I did good! and uh hope y'all like it!

sexual thematics or even the simple thought of sexual relations were somewhat frightening to them, throughout their prolonged relationship they had only shared a few promiscuous touches and kisses, yet they desperately wanted to take a more intimate step in their relationship, feelings of nervousness seemed to block their ability to express their true desires.

[name] laid against the beige bedsheets, her eyes glancing down at izzy's pale hands as they trailed down up her torso carefully and gently as if she were fragile and delicate, made of glass. his right hand advanced up to her tits, cupping one of them, squeezing it rather roughly. a wince of pain parted her lips, izzy quickly removed his hand, leaning down to place soft kisses around her perked nipple. it wasn't his intent to hurt her, he just got carried away.

soft, almost desperate apologies escaped his light pink lips, it somewhat embarrassed him, he was supposed to make her feel pleasure not pain. he continued to apologize while she reassured him that everything was fine, accidents happen.

he slowly sat back up, slotting his face in between her thighs, he brought his left hand up, spreading her folds with his pointer and middle finger, dragging his tongue down her cunt. both the bridge and tip of his nose occasionally bumped into her clit whilst he began to eat her out causing her bruised and bitten red lips to part, pleading moans spilling from them.

shortly after he removed his head from the snug spot in-between her thighs, gently slapping her cunt, coating his fingers in her arousal. each and everyone of his moves were all experimental, he wanted to see what exactly felt pleasurable to her. her soft, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand up towards he mouth.

[name] slowly opened her mouth, breathing heavily. she slowly began to lick and suck his long, pale fingers. he promptly slid his fingers out of her mouth, carefully trailing them down and inserting them into her, a mantra of moans spewing from her lips. he steadily pumped his fingers in a back and forth motion, speeding up his pace once in a while.

just as she was on the brink of her orgasm he pulled his fingers out, lovingly placing kisses on her lower stomach, inching closer to her inner thighs before sitting on his knees, lining up his painfully hard, pre-cum covered cock with her entrance. steadily, he slid in, causing her to tighten her grasp on the beige bedsheets, tugging on them as a loud, almost pornographic moan echoed through the bedroom.

Izzy maintained a rather calm, loving pace. he was worried about somehow hurting her again, he didn't want to hurt his precious jewel, at least not anymore. she grasped onto his forearm as his grip on her waist tightened, begging for him to go faster, harder. he skeptically obliged, fasten his pace.

the most desperate, adorable groans and whines escaped from his pink lips as he felt her warm, velvety, wet walls around him, her cunt seemed to lore him back in for more every-time he pulled out. he felt as if he was on cloud nine, he never expected these sinful acts to feel so euphoric. a keen, loud, and pleasure-filled cry whimper erupted from the back of [name]'s throat as she finally reached her awaited orgasm, it was a completely inexplicable feeling.

as he continued to thrust into her, a white, sticky ring of her orgasm appeared around the base of his cock, each time he pulled out, lines of her arousal mixed with her cum would connect them, causing lewd wet sounds to now accompanying their sounds of pleasure. with every thrust and every groan Izzy breached closer and closer to his orgasm, he soon haphazardly pulled out of her, pumping his length in-front of her face.

thick white spurts of cum ejaculated from his cock as a loud, low groan escaped his lips. he smiled, carelessly laying down next to her, catching his breath as he mumbled soft praises into her ear.

[comatosebunny09]

naughty | r. kyojuro

Genre(s): Smut, Modern AU

Warnings: Thigh Riding, Bodily Fluids, Language, Female Anatomy, Spanking, Exhibitionism (?), Not Proofed, Let me know if I missed anything please

Music: Naughty - Irene & Seulgi

Sorry not sorry. I'm going through things, and Kyojuro is the only muse that can satiate those things. Thank you so much for reading, lovely! ❤️

You don’t like to wear underwear when you’re home. 

Panties and bras are cumbersome. Prefer to let your lady bits breathe. You see no need for undergarments unless you’re leaving the house. 

So, of course, you saunter up to your husband—seated on the sectional—with your booty meat and tits a-jiggling, nipples puckering beneath the frail polyester of your dress, engrossed in your phone. Not an underwire or waistband in sight.

“Baby,” you ask, stopping to hover over Kyojuro’s leg, sunlight filtering through your dress’ slit. You don’t think much of your position. Too busy scrolling through DoorDash, gnawing your bottom lip. “You hungry?” 

Kyojuro is quiet for all of nine seconds before—

You yelp as hands suddenly shoot out to latch onto your waist, tugging you down until the seam of your cunt kisses the rough wool of Kyojuro’s sweats and your thighs frame either side of his. 

“Ravenous, darling.”

You cut your eyes at your husband as your phone slips through your fingers, thumping soundly on the rug. The position is uncomfortable, your hands scrambling for his shoulders to stay upright. His grip is possessive, rooting you in place, searing you to the bone.

He wears a close-eyed grin. A look deceptively innocent, though you do not miss the slight twitch of his bristly brow. His palms, once perched on your hips, move to encircle your middle, gently urging you forward until your warm breasts push against the hardened planes of his body. And the slow drag of your clit up his quad sends a warning pulsing through you.

“Babe?” you caution against the pleasant hum of your body. 

A hand rests at the small of your back while the other cups your cheek, coaxing you to look into his eyes. They simmer like liquid spilled over hot coals, etching a sluggish triangle between your hooded gaze and quivering lips. Your breath flees from your nostrils as Kyojuro’s plump lips pan in to capture yours.

And he kisses you. Lazy, slippery, and lust-ladened, filled with tongues curling and hoarse groans poured into your mouth. Your belly does somersaults. Hips unconsciously undulate against Kyojuro’s thigh, adrenaline like glass and needles in your limbs. Greedy fingers scramble for purchase of his hair, tugging until he fitfully pulls away to growl into the junction of your shoulder.

“That’s it, my love. Take it. Take what you want.”

Weighted hands glide southward to hold the apples of your ass, bunching up your dress until supple skin skates beneath his fingers. He guides you into a steady tempo along his quad, squeezing, lifting, baring your pulsing, driveling pussy hole to the cold air as your slick mottles his sweatpants. You chase that idle, sparkling rush that causes your hips to stutter and your breath to hitch, clitoris bumping against the thick muscles of his thigh with the perfect amount of friction.

Kyojuro chuckles against your skin, his voice akin to cured leather and mahogany. He mars your shoulder with hot, open-mouthed kisses, nipping at your aggravated flesh until you keen into his hair. 

“Like that, darling?” he rasps, enticing you to ride him faster. “Want to cum on my thigh, pretty girl?” 

You can do nothing but whine into the crook of his shoulder, your clit dewy and engorged, the coarseness of his pants causing pleasure to burrow deep into the pit of your stomach. You cling to him, panting wetly, your fingers buried in the folds of his hoodie, hips creating a choppy, wet cadence against his thigh.

You’re whimpering behind clenched teeth and eyes screwed shut, the feel of sweltering lips stamping your skin, and skillful digits slapping and pinching your ass, pushing you further to the brink. 

Kyojuro murmurs sodden obscenities in your ear. How wonderful you feel. How good of a girl you’re being. How wet you are. How sexy you sound, bearing down on his quad, chasing that searing, white-hot flurry. He knows what his voice does to you. How that doting, persuasive tone makes your pussy throb and your legs shake. 

When your breath catches and your thighs shiver, he knows you won’t be much longer.

“That’s it, baby. Cum. Cum for me. Please.”

The knot coiling in your stomach reaches its limit. Pulled taut like rope until it quickly unravels. And you careen towards the edge, the sounds of your wet pussy grinding against Kyojuro and his breath—hot and ragged in your ear—crowding your senses. Your hips still, a moan corked in your throat.

Your orgasm consumes you. Deafness. A brilliant whiteness that makes way for fireworks shooting across the inky stratosphere of your eyelids. Thighs quaking, toes curling, the crown of your head tingling. You descend from the sky after what feels like eons, the world slowly filtering in through the haze of your peak. 

There are hands soothingly stroking up your spine. Lips, tender and languid, prying your mouth open to swallow your shallow breaths. You’re loose-limbed and boneless, leaning into him, drawn to the comforting warmth of his body like a beacon. 

Kyojuro draws back, the ache of a smile on his lips, affection shining like water in his eyes. You curl up into his welcoming arms, his thumb skating slothfully over the side of your breast, sending lethargic waves of delight vibrating through you. 

He’ll have to give you some time to recover before you’re ready for another round.

You smile drunkenly. Sleep beckons you, her voice sweet and sticky like dolce. And as you relent to her kind embrace, the clearing of a throat causes you both to cut your eyes to the living room’s other occupant. 

“Damn,” Tengen says, a smirk canting his lips whilst he fans himself, adjusting his pants to hide the tent between his thighs. “That was hot as fuck.”

[firefirefruit]

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Stupid Fucking Plan

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Raya holds her breath, her eyes flickering anxiously over the dark figure that looms behind the door. Zoro, who stumbles into a crouch, breathes warmly on her skin, his lips only a few millimetres away from the croon of her neck – and Raya can’t help but gasp in surprise to the sensation, her breath catching in her throat.

Aggressive knocks shudder against the wooden door, the floor vibrating with each knuckled thud; and any thought that was about to form in Raya’s mind dissipates with each trembling smack, worry lines creasing deeply into her forehead in its place.

“I know you’re in there,” Law snarls, his voice reverberating through the door and into the apparent darkness. “I swear, if you're making adjustments on Kikoku without my explicit permission, I'll rearrange your anatomy piece by piece."

Zoro scoffs, instantly parting his lips hurl out a retort, but before he does, Raya’s fingers immediately brush over his mouth in a tight clasp. With a warning in the glint of her eyes, she stares at Zoro as he almost teasingly tries close his lips in a slow, languid motion from beneath her skin.

They stare at each other, his hot breath kissing her cold fingers, the outline of his mouth forming into an invisible sculpture Raya can only dream of replicating in the dark corners of her workshop.

In an abrupt crescendo, another set of footsteps hasten toward the door, their hurried rhythm pounding against the wooden planks with an urgency that borders on desperation.

"Law," a voice pants out, the breath labored and nearly alarming in its intensity. Raya's eyes dart away from Zoro as she recognizes the voice, a surge of relief flooding through her. With a fierce effort to contain her emotions, she nudges Zoro aside from the porthole to gain a clearer view of what's happening outside, earning a grumble of protest from him in the process.

Nami takes a second to control herself before she pushes herself up from her knees. With a curious smile and a raised eyebrow, she takes in Law’s growling presence with ease. “My, my, Law - if we were boring you down there then you should’ve just said something.”

"No, Nami, you're not boring me," he snaps, his voice sharp and clipped. "I’m just trying to get my sword back. Raya’s had her for quite long enough."

Nami's attention flickers to the porthole, her eyes widening when they lock onto a shadowed Raya. For a second, her breath falters, her mouth slightly agape as she stares at the terrified swordsmith. In response, Raya gives a slow, careful shake to her head, mouthing out, “get him away!” to her.

Raya observes with keen interest as the gears of Nami's mind grind into motion, her astute instincts swiftly assessing the unfolding situation.

With a flick of her gaze, Nami pivots around to face Law, her body language a canvas of calculated nonchalance. With an exasperated sigh, she theatrically raises a hand to her face, her eyes wandering lazily to inspect her meticulously manicured nails. Each movement is deliberate, a carefully orchestrated display of indifference designed to mask the quicksilver calculations beneath the surface.

"Of course, Law," Nami replies smoothly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because we all know how much you love to micromanage."

Law's jaw clenches, his frustration evident even underneath the dim light of the moon. But before he can respond, Nami presses on, her voice taking on a note of distraction.

"But since I have you here," she says with a smirk, lifting her beer to her lips for a casual sip, "there's something I've been meaning to ask."

Law's brow arches slightly, his attention still fixed on the closed door as if he could bore a hole through it with his stare. "What is it?" he responds tersely, his tone edged with impatience, his hand poised as if ready to break through the barrier of the workshop's entrance.

Nami's gaze briefly shifts to Raya, a silent exchange passing between them before she presses on with her inquiry.

"I was just wondering," Nami begins, her voice dripping with faux innocence, "if you've had any success in tracking down that peculiar little coin you mentioned a while ago."

Law's expression shifts, a hint of suspicion creeping into his eyes as he turns to fully face Nami.

Nami innocently blinks, her fingers conspicuously toying with a small rounded object in front of her glass.

"What was it called again?" Nami muses. "Thrumble? Fumble? Timble?"

"It's a Triel," Law snaps, irritation evident in every line of his face. He crosses his arms and fixes his gaze on the glinting gold between Nami's fingers. "Is that the coin?"

Raya observes the exchange with bated breath, her muscles tensing as she awaits Nami's next move. Nami's fingers continue to toy with the small object in front of her, her gaze steady as she meets Law's stare head-on.

"Oh, I’m not sure," Nami says casually, her tone light but tinged with mischief, "I’m not a coin connoisseur, so I could be wrong."

A flicker of suspicion crosses Law's features, darkening his expression briefly before he quickly masks it with a neutral facade. "Then I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he replies tersely, his tone clipped.

Nami's smile widens, her gaze briefly flickering to Raya before returning to Law. "Well, that's a shame," she says lightly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She stares dismissively at the golden coin in her fingers. “Might as well throw this in the sea, then.”

"No!" Law's outburst fills the room. Unable to contain himself any longer, he takes a step forward, his eyes fixed on the golden coin in Nami's hand. "Enough, Nami," he says, his voice low but firm. "Give me that."

Nami's smirk widens as she holds the coin just out of Law's reach, clearly enjoying the game she's playing. "Oh, so now you're interested?" she taunts, her tone teasing.

Law's jaw clenches, his patience wearing thin, like a frayed rope about to snap under tension. "Just let me see it," he demands, his voice a low growl as he reaches out to grab the curio from Nami's hand. But Nami, ever the elusive trickster, swiftly dances away, tapping a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. Her other hand extends over the ship's railing, the coin dangling tantalizingly close to the dark, churning waters below, as if mocking Law's futile attempts.

“You know... I think I saw some beautiful jewels back in your ship. It's a shame, really, for those to sink along with this odd little thing..." Nami's smirk widens mischievously, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Law's irritation bubbles to the surface, his frustration palpable in the air like a storm gathering on the horizon. "Fine," he grits out through clenched teeth, his voice a barely contained snarl. "Take the jewels. Just give me the Triel."

Nami's grin widens into a victorious smirk as she watches Law frown at her, her triumph echoing through the air like the triumphant cry of a victorious pirate queen. With a theatrical flourish, she grabs Law by the arm, her grip firm and unyielding.

"I’ll give it to you after you show me your beauties,” she sings triumphantly, her tone dripping with satisfaction, like a cat who's just caught the canary and is now relishing in its victory.

Without another word, Law turns on his heel and strides towards his broken ship, the weight of defeat heavy on his shoulders. Nami follows closely behind, her steps light and confident, relishing in her victory over the formidable captain.

“Well, I guess I won't be owing Nami any more favors,,” Raya mutters, breathing out in relief. “Looks like Law’s got that covered.”

Zoro, in response, takes a long, deliberate swig of his sake, the liquid burning a path down his throat. His gaze, once piercing and focused, now seems distant, disconnected from the world around him. With a silent, almost resigned sigh, he stumbles towards the stool, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy. Slumping heavily onto the seat, he slings an arm over its headrest, his posture reflecting a weariness that goes beyond mere physical exhaustion.

Zoro turns around to her, an eyebrow raised.

“What else do you needa do, then?” He impatiently grunts, his eyes clouding with indifference. He takes another long swig of his sake, as if attempting to drown out the taste of his own thoughts. “Would be great if I could go back and enjoy the rest of my night.”

Raya's stomach tightens at Zoro's sudden change in behavior. She swallows hard, attempting to quell the rising discomfort that threatens to overwhelm her. Is it surprise? Disappointment? Or perhaps... embarrassment? The thought causes her to bristle with indignation. Get yourself together, Raya.

She forces herself to focus on the task at hand, turning her attention back to the half-mended sword on the table.

"I just need to solder the pieces back together," she replies, her voice steady yet forced. "It's easy work."

Zoro grunts in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on his sake as if it holds the secrets of the universe. His silence speaks volumes, a barrier between them that neither dares to breach.

The workshop is cloaked in an uneasy silence, broken only by the sizzle of molten metal meeting its counterpart. Raya's fingers move with practiced grace, the golden glow of her pointer finger illuminating the dim surroundings as she meticulously fuses the fractured pieces of Kikoku back together.

The silence in the workshop grows thicker with each passing moment, wrapping around Raya and Zoro like a heavy blanket. It's as if the air itself is charged with tension, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Raya can feel the weight of Zoro's gaze on her, but whenever she dares to steal a glance in his direction, he quickly averts his eyes, his expression guarded and inscrutable.

Just as the oppressive silence threatens to suffocate them both, Zoro's sudden movement breaks the spell. He rises from his stool with an abruptness that startles Raya, causing her to jump in her seat. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room and slams a drawing down in front of her.

As Raya examines the drawing, she realizes with a mixture of amusement and disbelief what Zoro has done. Instead of coloring the pirate ship in solid hues, he's filled the entire page with the word "swords" repeated over and over again, each one overlapping the next in a chaotic jumble.

Unable to contain herself, Raya bursts into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Zoro arches an eyebrow at her reaction, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Roronoa…" Raya manages between giggles, her laughter gradually subsiding as she meets his gaze. "You did not just turn a coloring page into a 'swords' manifesto."

“Hey, I coloured inside the lines,” Zoro retorts with a shrug, his smirk widening as he leans against the table. His eyes linger on the glow of Raya's hands as she meticulously mends the sword, a playful glint dancing in his gaze.

As Raya works, Zoro's gaze remains fixed on her, his eyes following the movement of her hands with a curious intensity. Eventually, he breaks the silence with a question that catches Raya off guard.

“Can I ask you something?” he murmurs softly.

With surprise, she looks up, her fingers pausing in the fast-paced momentum of her work. “Yeah?”

Zoro leans over the table as his fingers gently toy with his sake. “Do you ever... regret joining this crew?"

“Oh. I… don’t know,” she whispers. Her eyes remain on the sword in front of her, unwilling to look back at the swordsman. “Being here…it feels like home? In a sense, I guess? But… Every time I see you, it-it just flashes in my head...”

Zoro falls into a heavy silence, unsure of how to respond. His breath catches in his throat, a knot tightening in his chest with each passing moment.

Raya chews on her lips, fidgeting with her tools. “What about you? I know I haven’t… Don’t you sometimes wish I didn’t join the crew?”

Zoro's brow furrows as he considers Raya's question, his gaze flickering between her and the broken sword in front of them. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, the weight of her words sinking in.

"I won't lie, Tenguyama. I have," he admits, his voice low and measured. "Having you on board has... fucked things up. A lot. It’s been really shit. Like, really—”

“Okay, I think we get it,” Raya interjects, her glare meeting Zoro's with a fiery intensity. Yet, in the tension of the moment, a flicker of amusement passes between them, and before they know it, they're both chuckling softly.

“I get it,” Raya repeats, her voice softer, more earnest this time.

Zoro gazes at her for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, he averts his eyes and clears his throat. “But... still. No, I don't wish you hadn't joined the crew."

Raya's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You don't?"

Zoro shakes his head, his tone firm. "No. Despite everything, I think you belong here. You're strong.”

“I know I’m- “

“Yeah, I know you know that, too,” Zoro interrupts, folding his arms across his chest. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply. “And... I can’t lie. I might dislike you, but that’s also why I can respect you."

Raya dramatically sighs, as she feigns looking at her nails. “I’m not particularly fond of you, either, you know.”

Zoro offers a ghost of a smile, a rare moment of levity breaking through the tension between them.

"Well, at least we can agree on something," he mutters.

And then, as if summoned by the silence in the air, the workshop is assaulted once more by a furious pounding, the sound reverberating through the space like the thunderous roar of an approaching storm. Each thud sends vibrations coursing through the floorboards, rattling tools and trinkets alike, as if the very foundation of the room quakes with the force of Law's wrath.

Raya's head whips up with such force it threatens to dislodge from her neck. The urgency in Law's knocks jolts her from her reverie, sending a jolt of panic coursing through her veins.

Zoro's brow furrows as he turns to the door, surprise etched across his features. “He’s back already?”

“Raya, I swear to the Gods I will ‘room; myself into your workshop right now.”

The threat in Law's voice sends a shiver down Raya's spine, her heart rate pounding in her ears in response.

“Why hasn’t he done that yet, then?” Zoro mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“That’s because I got Nami to slip in a few of my sea prism coins in his pockets,” Raya blurts out, her words tumbling out in a rush of desperation.

“Fuck,” she hisses. With trembling hands, she grabs the half-mended sword and frantically looks around for a hiding spot, her mind racing with panic. “Fuckfuck fuckfuckfuck fuck...”

The sound of Nami's voice echoes through the workshop, her urgent pleas mingling with Law's furious demands.

"Law, please," Nami begs, her voice strained with desperation. "You won’t want to see what’s happening in there."

Law's response is a series of loud thuds against the door, each one sending a jolt of fear through Raya's already frayed nerves.

"Raya!" Law's voice booms from the other side of the door, his tone sharp and commanding. "Open this door right now."

"Over there," Zoro instantly says, pointing to the floorboard. "It's our best shot."

Raya nods, relief washing over her as she silently tip toes to the corner and crouches to the floor. But before she can place Kikoku underneath the loosened planks, a sudden surge of power washes over the metal in her hands.

‘Revenge. Revengerevengerevenge Revenge. Revenge,’ It screams through Raya’s skull.

"What?" Raya mumbles in shock, her heart pounding in her chest.

She stares at the sword, her eyes widening as she feels the unmistakable thrum of Kikoku's presence reverberate through her veins. The sword seems to come alive in her hands, vibrating and rattling as if it possesses a will of its own.

And then, to Raya's astonishment, Kikoku begins to hover above her hands, defying gravity like some phantom apparition in the dim light of the workshop.

‘It is time. Itistime’

The sword aims its jagged end right in between her eyebrows, making Raya completely turn to stone.

And it slices.

SHING!

Kikoku doesn't rend skin or vein; it doesn't slice through flesh or muscle. Instead, its edge slices through the fabric of Raya's clothes like a sharp blade through silk, leaving behind a trail of torn fabric in its wake.

"What the bloody FUCK?" Raya's exclamation echoes through the workshop, a mixture of shock and disbelief coloring her tone. Her hair crackles with the static of her rising fury as she stares at Kikoku in sheer astonishment. “Are you being fucking serious right now, Kikoku?”

The shattered pieces of the sword seem to pulse with an otherworldly energy, vibrating with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine, as if they're responding to some unseen force, perhaps the very presence of Law outside the door.

With wide, disbelieving eyes, she lowers her gaze to her clothes, now rent in twain by the sword's inexplicable power. The fabric hangs in tatters around her body, leaving her skin exposed to the chill of the workshop air.

"What’s happening?" Zoro's voice hisses from a distance, carrying a sense of urgency that matches the pounding of Law's footsteps outside.

"I-I don't know," Raya stammers, her hands trembling as she tries to make sense of the inexplicable movement of Kikoku. "Kikoku... she moved on her own."

Zoro's eyes widen in alarm, his swords at the ready as he scans the workshop for any signs of imminent danger. "We need to hide," he commands urgently, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with authority. "Now."

Raya shakes her head, her gaze unwavering as she meets Zoro's eyes. “I have a better plan. You won’t like it, Roronoa, but it’s our last chance.”

Zoro's jaw clenches, his expression tense with skepticism. "Do it."

Raya acts on instinct, slamming the loosened plank over the hissing Kikoku before hastily making her way to the safety of her work desk. She sits down abruptly, pulling Zoro towards her with a sense of urgency.

“This is so fucking stupid,” she whispers hastily, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, each beat echoing the urgency of their situation. “So fucking stupid it might actually work.”

Before Zoro can respond to her cryptic statement, she releases the fabric that clings to her body in limp strands, allowing it to slip over her bare shoulders like cascading silk, revealing her skin to the dim light of the workshop. The fabric unravels itself before her chest, revealing the subtle curves beneath.

Zoro stumbles backward, caught off guard by the sudden display, finding himself in between her legs with a mix of shock and bewilderment. His eyes widen, scanning the scene before him, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tenguyama?” Zoro immediately hisses, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks down to Raya, his gaze momentarily lingering on her exposed form before snapping away, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. In a futile attempt to regain his composure, he awkwardly snaps his head upwards to the ceiling, as if seeking refuge from the awkwardness that surrounds them.

As the fabric slides from her shoulders, a rush of cool air kisses her skin, prompting a soft gasp to escape her lips. Raya's gaze meets Zoro's, and in that vulnerable moment, she discerns a myriad of emotions flickering across his rugged features.

There's a flash of shock, evident in the widening of his eyes, mingled with a hint of mortification that colors his cheeks with a subtle flush. Confusion knits his brow, adding a layer of complexity to the scene unfolding between them.

Yet, beneath the surface, there's something primal, something untamed stirring within the depths of his gaze— hunger.

She watches as Zoro's gaze flickers, his jaw clenching, his muscles tensing, in a futile attempt to mask the hunger that simmers just beneath the surface.

As the door to the crow’s nest crashes down, the thunderous sound echoing through the chamber, a surge of adrenaline courses through Raya's veins. Without hesitation, she reaches for Zoro, her fingers finding purchase on his neck, pulling him close as if drawn by an invisible force.

In a heartbeat, her bare legs encircle his torso, their bodies now intimately intertwined in a dance of urgency and anticipation.

Zoro's suppressed grunt resonates through the air in response to Raya’s tug, a low rumble that reverberates through her bones. His muscles coil beneath his skin, tense and ready, as he leans in closer to Raya. Their eyes lock in a silent exchange, the space between them charged with anticipation, each heartbeat echoing loudly in their ears.

“Close your eyes,” Raya's voice is a breathy command, laden with urgency and a hint of desperation. “It has to be believable.”

Zoro closes his eyes immediately and presses his forehead against hers. His breaths against her cheeks feel softer than before as his fingers come up to angle her chin to his lips.

He pauses in that spot, soft, plush lips angled up towards lips, his fingers smoothening across the nape of her neck like a sculpture, two brown eyes desperately searching for his.

And there he is, the Surgeon of Death himself, striding purposefully into the workshop as if he owns the place.

But the moment his eyes land on the scene before him, his confident gait comes to an abrupt halt.

Zoro, ever the intimidating presence, looks up from Raya's gaze, his expression a mix of defiance and annoyance as he locks eyes with Law. His fingers remain firmly planted against Raya's jaw, a silent warning to the intruding captain.

"What’s your problem?" Zoro snarls, his tone dripping with disdain as he challenges Law's unexpected interruption.

Law, usually quick with a retort, finds himself at a loss for words. His eyes widen in embarrassment as he takes in the compromising position of his crewmates. He clears his throat awkwardly, his cheeks rushing with incredible heat.

"I-I’m..." he stammers, his voice cracking under the weight of his embarrassment. He gestures wildly with his hands, as if searching for an excuse to flee the scene. "I-"

Zoro raises an eyebrow incredulously, his eyes narrowing even further into menacing slits.

“This room’s occupied,” Zoro spits out. And with his darkening eyes locked on Law, Zoro slightly brushes his lips across the corner of Raya’s mouth, his other hand curving over her waist. “You should go.”

“Yes,” Law quickly shouts out, his face remaining as neutral as possible. “I’m going now. Goodbye.”

And he makes a hasty retreat, practically lunging his entire being outside of the crow’s nest. As the door slams shut behind him, the room is engulfed in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of Law's hasty footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving behind a lingering sense of awkwardness and disbelief.

And the enveloping silence, Raya still has her arms around Zoro’s neck.

Their breaths mingle with each other, chests heaving with the remnants of panic and surprise. And when Raya finally looks up to Zoro, her breath gets caught up in her throat - because when she sees him, she fails to recognise the man that’s laying in between her legs.

A man with not only softness in his gaze, but of dark hunger.

“Stupid fucking plan,” Zoro grumbles, breaking the silence with a rough exhale that ruffles Raya's hair, his words a harsh echo of their earlier sentiment. The scent of alcohol lingers on his breath, almost making Raya wanting to taste it on her own tongue.

Raya breathes out a sharp laugh, warmth reaching her cheeks. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Zoro falls silent, staring at the girl who has her arms and legs wrapped around him.

He can’t. He can’t do this, he says to himself.

He has to resist it. All of this. He can control himself, of course he can. He’s a fucking swordsman, for Christ’s sake. All he needs to do is pull away and unwrap her bare legs from his torso. All his fingers need to do is to curve over the softness of her thighs and press downwards.

He stares at the infuriating swordsmith entangled in their feigned embrace, his jaw clenching even tighter.

All he needs to do is to pull away and walk it all off.

Her lips. Her eyes. Her skin.

Maybe take a cold shower while he’s at it, too.

Her warmth. Her fire.

And he unravels.

He slams his lips against hers, hungrily moving in sync to her furious gasp. It's not a gentle, tender kiss, no; rather, it's fuelled by bitterness and fury, an eruption of pent-up frustration and overwhelming desire.

With each movement, their mouths clash together like steel against steel.

Zoro's grip on her tightens, his touch bordering on bruising as he seeks to overpower her with the intensity of his desire. His teeth graze against her lips like a warning, a growl rumbling deep in his throat.

Raya meets his aggression with defiance, her own lips pressing back with equal fervour, a silent challenge crossing through her movements. She refuses to yield, matching his every move with a ferocity that borders on reckless abandon, licking his lips with soft, teasing flicks that makes Zoro growl even louder. What a stupid fucking plan.

[vampiric-hunger]

𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: 𝕔𝕙.𝟙 - 𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕥

pair: Ascended!Astarion x female!reader

tags: no y/n is used, rating - E, TW: mentions of childhood sexual abuse, general sexual abuse and mentions of sexual slavery (all of those happened in the past AA is not doing this to reader). PIV, creampie, blood drinking.

summary: you're skilled, driven and most importantly - ambitious. but even as someone in your position, a trained assassin and a leader of your own Guild, you still lend yourself to jobs that are of importance. even if those jobs sometimes mean attending parties. tonight - it's a masquerade and you're bored out of your mind, until the man who hired you to protect him leaves you alone, at the mercy of a stranger who suddenly took a keen interest in you.

this is a 7 chapter fic exploring Ascended Astarion through a lens of 7 deadly sins.

word count: 4,129 | Chapter 2 |

a/n: as voted by my readers - here's Ascended Astarion and my take on 7 deadly sins that i looked at through his character. enjoy! <3

Another boring party, another boring masquerade.

Your eyes sweep over the crowd but nothing seems unusual for the time being. People dancing, people chatting, people drinking. Most of them you recognize even behind their masks. Simple mannerisms, voices or even who they are spending time with tells you more than they probably would want to let on. It’s not hard for you to tell who’s who. After all, you worked for so many of them already.

Tonight you work as a guard for especially paranoid noble. Normally you don’t let yourself get hired for tasks, you have your whole Guild of experienced thieves and assassins to do all the minor and major works, but when the richest of Baldur’s Gate want your services specifically – you comply. Not only they pay handsomely, you also make connections among the patriars that do pay off in a long run.

No, you’re no Nine-fingers Keane, not yet at least, but you have gathered a respectable resume of deeds that are well known in the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate. You have a goal and that goal is simple – to control every Guild by taking over and uniting them. You’ve been working for years to make this happen and you built yourself from the ground up. Just like you escaped slavery in Hells, so will you become what you want to be – the ultimate ruler of Guilds of this godsdamned city that betrayed you before.

But you won’t let these thoughts distract you, not tonight. Not that you expect anything to happen in the first place. It’s a masquerade after all, who would even target the patriar you’re accompanying is beyond you. He’s a man who is scared to step on anyone’s toes, let alone anyone’s who could be a danger to him. Alas, he hired you and he’s paying so well you couldn’t refuse the offer. So now you’re here, in your best dress, with a domino mask on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. And, of course, couple daggers hidden under your dress. You are always prepared.

The patriar in question, one exalted Lord Goldbrith, is by your side and chatting with gusto to a young man. You suspect he brought you here not only to guard his life, but perhaps to help him disperse the rumors surrounding his sexuality. Not that most would judge in the first place, nobles and patriars probably are the most relaxed people when it comes to sexual liberty. However, Goldbrith’s issue is that his father wants an heir and if your little ‘prince’ over there leaves no such possibility by admitting that he’s not interested in women, well… then he risks losing the inheritance. And you’re not sure this man knows how to tie his own shoes, being pampered like a child all his life.

You almost roll your eyes, thinking how this is the worst some people have to deal with. No, they will never know what it is to be molested by their father and brother, no, they won’t know what it is to be sold to a brothel as a ten-year old and used. No, they won’t know what it’s like to be sold to Hells only to continue being a slave of desires of others just as you have been up here. You don’t scowl, but when you look at these spoiled men and women you feel disgust and anger.

No, stop, inhale… exhale. Your past is your past, but you’re stronger now, better. And you will have Baldur’s Gate by the throat eventually. You just have to be patient, have to spread your connections wider and have as many people indebted to you as possible. So that you can use them when the right time comes.

Again you inhale and slowly exhale, calming yourself. When you become the Guild Leader of Baldur’s Gate then each and every person in this room will have to treat you with respect. And most of them already do because you have made a name for yourself in these past years, for what it counts.

“Dearest, do you mind if I accompany this fine gentleman to the restroom? He says he cannot find it.” Lord Goldbrith is now talking to you, making you snap out of your bitter thoughts, and you look at him.

“Alone?” you ask and the man now seems flustered.

“Yes. There’s no need for you to come along, I think I will be perfectly safe. And it’s not far, if something happens - I’ll shout for you.” a nervous smile, intertwined fingers, yes, you know exactly what he’s going to be doing with this so-called fine gentleman. After all, he hired you to protect him and if he temporarily doesn’t need it…

“Very well, find me when you return, I shouldn’t stray too far.” you respond and Goldbrith pats your hand holding the glass of wine.

“I’ll be fine. Go, dance, mingle. Seems this event is quite safe for me.”

Sure it is, you think to yourself. You see his anxious desire to depart immediately from your company and you have no reason to hold him. He paid you already, after all.

“Of course, Lord Goldbrith.” you nod again and a smile of relief forms underneath his mask, you can see it in how the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“I’ll find you when I’m back.” his hand leaves yours and you watch Goldbrith navigate the crowd with his newest boy toy.

You can’t help but smile to yourself. At least he’ll be happy tonight and it won’t harm you to assure others he’s here with you if anybody asks. When you are paid so handsomely - you will tell people the sky is brown and grass is red.

“I saw your companion leave. Curious to ask why.” a voice you don’t recognize asks for your attention.

You turn to see a man standing close to your left side. His silver hair is immaculate with flowing locks and the domino mask that he’s wearing is bejeweled with what like looks actual gems. Behind the mask you see red piercing eyes. The man smiles and it’s more of a smug smirk than a heartfelt expression. It looks so natural on him that you are sure this is his default expression. A dangerous smile. A smile that spells ruin for those who scorn him; you’ve seen smiles like this before. 

“If you’re curious, why don’t you follow him and ask yourself?” you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip, keeping your eyes on him. 

“I’m not in a habit of following men.” elf responds, his tone of voice is cocky and the implication of his words is clear - he’s the one who leads and not the one who follows. 

Problem is, you don’t recognize him. Even with the mask on, you can tell that he’s a man of beauty, surely you must’ve heard of him even if you haven’t met him. But this is a masquerade, people don’t share names until midnight and there’s still couple hours left on the clock for that. You think how you can get his name out of him but your thoughts get interrupted because this mystery man steps even closer to you and glances at your glass. 

“More wine, my dear?”

Tsk. How much you despise nobles thinking they can use pet names on you. But you bite your tongue.

“I can serve myself if needed.” you step back from him and see his curious eyes examine your masked face. What does he even want?

Your gaze snaps down the moment you see him reach out. His fingers bear silver rings, some of them have gems, you recognize each and every one of those gems even before he steps closer again just to take your hand in his slender, manicured fingers.

“I thought maybe you could grant me a dance since your partner seems to be busy with a gentleman.” a pointed tone that his words carry tell you everything – he knows about the arrangement you have with Lord Goldbrith. How - you have not even a slightest idea, but he knows.

Except you’re not concerned that he knows, instead you notice his warm and soft touch when he raises your hand and leans down to meet it with his lips. Something that should be only a small peck gets prolonged and it’s as if he’s testing you because his eyes meet yours while his lips are still on your hand. It’s a long moment. Too long to be appropriate but you don’t pull your hand away.

“A dance? Perhaps I can do that.” you answer and offer the mysterious white-haired man a smile. He smiles too and straightens his back but keeps holding your hand.

“Wonderful. I think a waltz is about to start.” he says in a voice like honey. He’s interested in you, you can tell that much.

So maybe you could use him, just to relieve some pressure. It doesn’t have to be serious, these types of trysts never are. And you have been with couple other patriars like this before. Sneaking away from the main room, finding an empty study or an unused stairwell, quickly satisfying your needs and his without any need to talk about it afterwards. No strings attached, just pure carnal lust being gratified with a willing partner. This handsome elf could become this type of partner, if only for tonight.

You nod to him and put away your goblet to a nearby table, then feel him tug at your hand. You follow him to the ballroom and instead of staying at the edges of the dance floor as not to interrupt other twirling couples, this noble leads you right to the center. You don’t shy away when there’s attention placed on you, but tonight you are on the job and you would prefer if you weren’t noticed. Nonetheless, once more you let him do as he pleases and don’t pull your hand from his firm grasp or don’t try to hide away.

If he wants a dance with everyone watching – you will give him that dance.

When people part giving him and yourself the way to the center of the floor, this mysterious man finally stops and looks at you with a smirk. Even with the mask covering half his face you can see confidence, no, arrogance etched in every expression he makes. You don’t mind that. Something about arrogant men always intrigued you. Maybe because you too are full of pride, and you think that if only these men knew what you’re capable of, they wouldn’t be so self-assured around you. It gives your ego a boost, feeding your own arrogance, making you almost fearless no matter the situation, no matter the opponent or, just like in this case, no matter the partner. A dancing partner, at that, at least for now.

The man pauses, the music stops for a moment while musicians adjust for the upcoming tune and he steps closer, now pulling you closer with practiced ease. His hand on your lower back push you against his chest and you raise your eyebrows even though he cannot see it because of your own mask. Waltz is not danced chest to chest but it looks like he doesn’t care about etiquette or social manners. You don’t mind that at all, you like a man who knows what he’s doing.

And then the music starts again.

Your partner eases into the music with grace, his steps are easy, fluid and you follow him with as much grace as you can. It’s not your first waltz but he’s obviously a better dancer than you can ever hope to be.

“You know people are watching, right?” you say to the elf, bringing attention to how close he’s holding you and he scoffs arrogantly.

“We’re beautiful together, of course they are watching.” his hand on your lower back pushes slightly harder and you nearly lose your step.

A cocky grin on his face tells you that it was intentional. You smirk back to him because you know what he’s doing or at least trying to do. He’s sparring, trying to establish himself as superior to you in this setting. Maybe he’s trying to show that he’s superior over everyone in this ballroom. You’re not sure nor you care.

“I would like to know your name, darling.” your dancing noble says again when you don’t reply quick enough and you slightly smile, he’s getting impatient.

“It’s a masquerade, Lord. My name’s a mystery just as yours.” your reply rewards you with a chuckle that you feel reverberating from his chest against yours.

“Very well.” the man says and you can feel his fingers give yours a short squeeze. “But I will want to see what’s behind that mask once midnight strikes.” again his eyes pierce into yours and for just a split second the world around you melts away.

The chatter and laughter of patriars disappears, the music is all you hear. You feel the fabric of your dress brush against your legs and his as you both spin in motion to the rhythm of waltz. His hand so warm on yours, so warm even through your dress on your back. At last it feels like you both dance with the grace of gods themselves as he leads your steps. And you realize that you don’t want to wait until midnight to rip his mask off and see what’s underneath.

Yes, he will serve well to satisfy your lust, to help you take off the edge. You smile to him.

“Maybe we don’t have to wait for midnight after all.” you tell him and see a flash of surprise that turns into smugness. You also realize that waltz is coming to an end, perfect timing.

Before the elf replies the music tapers off and you step back from him despite his attempt to keep your body close to his, then you do a proper curtsey in thanks for the dance. Mystery man bows too, one hand behind him, but his eyes never leaving yours.

After you both stand tall again, you turn from him and walk off, sensing rather than knowing that he’s following. No one seems to be paying attention anymore, now that your dance is over and another one begins, and you weave through the crowd with easy expertise of an assassin. Passing unnoticed and uninterrupted. But you do quickly glance back to the spot where you were standing earlier, to check if Lord Goldbrith returned but seeing no sign of a man you turn your attention to the hallway for which you are aiming.

Soon enough you turn a corner but don’t get far before you feel yourself being pulled back by your wrist. You stop and look behind you only to see that the elf indeed has followed you. He tugs at your arm just like he did when leading you to the middle of a ballroom and you smirk, pressing your palms against his chest to soften the impact of your body against his.

He leans closer, his lips seeking yours yet you push away from him, seeing questions in his eyes, but instead of answering you grab his hand and make him trail after you in hurried footsteps. To your relief the elf doesn’t utter a word and you pass couple of doors before you stop and push at the third one, hoping that this room is potentially unoccupied, since you assumed the first two would be. That’s how it usually goes during these types of noble parties.

Yes, the room is empty and the silver-haired man follows you inside hurriedly, pushing the door closed behind him. When you stop he stops too and you release his hand, turning to him. For a moment you look each other in the eyes, you feel your heart beating heavy and fast in your chest. And then both of you step to each other at the same time as if you both heard a silent permission.

He grabs at your mask and you grab at his, pulling them away from your faces just a split second before your lips meet. You kiss him almost harshly, your desire taking control of you and he responds with same passion, pushing his tongue into your mouth in an instant. The masks drop to the floor and he steps forwards with you, pushing you backwards with his hands on your hips and your arms around his neck, until you bump into the bookshelf behind you.

Elf’s hands begin clawing at your dress, lifting the skirts up in a hurry and your hands blindly find their way to the buttons of his pants. The kiss is deep, the wine you taste on his tongue is even better than one from a glass. For a moment your tongue catches on his fang but you don’t have the time to wonder what’s that about. No, this moment is about getting and giving in equal measure.

The kiss breaks for a moment, you feel elf’s breath on your mouth and gasp softly when you feel his fingertips trace the outline of your underwear. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with intense lust-filled gaze, at the same time you finally manage to slip your hand into his pants. As you reach down, his precum stains your fingers and you smirk, palming his hard erection.

But your smile gets wiped off your face as the handsome elf pulls at the hem of your panties and slides two fingers down your slit, dipping just the tips of them into your core. He exhales with obvious lust and removes his hand, grabbing your hips as if preparing to lift you. You don’t waste time and you free his cock out of its confines. The moment you do that, the man lifts you by the hips. Immediately you wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders for purchase. Without delay you feel your panties being pulled to the side and smooth tip of elf’s erection pressing against your soaked cunt.

No words are needed and no time is wasted. He thrusts into you with force and you moan, throwing your head back from the pleasure of him filling you and stretching you in most wonderful way. You quickly bite your lip down, trying to silence any forthcoming cries but you are not successful because when he starts pumping - it’s hard and demanding.

The room fills with pants and groans and you close your eyes, feeling the man’s lips on your neck, kissing and tasting your skin with his tongue. You whine with each snap of his hips, with each claim of his to your body, and you let go of his shoulders, your fingers reach over your head and to your sides, looking for a shelf to grasp onto, but for a while you only find the spines of books, pulling at them and making them drop to the floor with silent thuds.

Then your eyes snap open as pain briefly shoots through your shoulder but you immediately realize what’s going on. Of course he’s a vampire. The crimson eyes, the fangs, strange you didn’t realize it earlier. You let your eyelids drop as the vampire sucks on your blood while relentlessly pounding into you at the same time, and you have to clench your teeth to prevent yourself from shouting into the ceiling. It’s not your first time sleeping with a vampire so you’re not afraid, if anything it gives you a thrill of danger that you never get from other patriars in such short-term arrangements.

You feel the fangs leave your neck and a greedy tongue laps at the bite marks left behind while you finally manage to grasp onto the shelves, clinging for your dear life. You crane your head and look at the elf, seeing that his eyes are on you, then he catches your lips in a scorching kiss, his teeth tugging at your bottom one and you mewl at that, it’s harder and harder for you to keep silent as your pleasure begins to build. Your partner in this quick tryst pounds himself so religiously into you that you are beginning to feel sore already and that only adds to the pleasure.

For a moment the elf just keep thrusting while biting on your lower lip and when you look at him he keeps an eye contact with you, but then his teeth part and he presses his face to the side of your neck that doesn’t have his fresh bite mark. You hear him gasp for air and you know he’s close too. You release the shelf with one hand to tangle your fingers into his hair, grasping firmly just before you close your eyes again and let go.

A deep thrust, another one, then another one - your mewls follow each other of them and your mind swims just before your orgasm overwhelms your senses. You don’t know how loud you are or how hard you are gripping vampire’s hair, all you know is pleasure and his cock pushing you to your limits. You don’t even know how long the waves of pleasure rip through you, making your cunt clench on his shaft so deliciously, as if on a quest to milk him sooner than he wishes. You hear him grunt something, a word, maybe two, you’re not sure and it doesn’t matter.

When your bliss begins subsiding and your mind starts to clear you find yourself still being fucked. You whimper, sore and satisfied, but pull at elf’s hair, making him look at you. His face is sweaty, his teeth are clenched, showcasing his fangs, and you see that he’s close. You heavily kiss him but he doesn’t respond. Instead he grunts against your mouth and then moans, his thrusts becoming erratic at the same moment as he begins spilling himself deep inside of you. You slide your tongue against his teeth, your eyes heavy-lidded from your own pleasure and additional satisfaction seeing that he seems to be enjoying this too, like it’s a compliment to you. And then his hips finally stop, his grip on your hips is slippery and he’s digging his fingers into your flesh, leaving bruises for the future.

The elf opens his eyes to look at you, he’s utterly out of breath but you don’t let him say anything, you just kiss him again and he responds, albeit less energetically now. You had a moment to recover while he just rode out his orgasm to the fullest. With a smirk you lean your head back and push at him slightly, making him set you on the floor. The white-haired man looks disheveled and you most likely look the same, but you just smirk to him, taking in his appearance, the messy hair, the open pants and his softening erection, still leaking last drops of cum. A wonderful view and a state that you like seeing men in.

With sweaty palms you smoothen out skirts of your dress and pick up your domino mask from the floor, then give him a wink, walking out of the room. You don’t see the look the man gives you: one of shock and partial anger that you’re leaving without another word. As if he’s realizing it is you who used him and not the other way around. Your arrogance leaves him stumped. But you finally know who he is: Lord Astarion Ancunin.

With a satisfied grin you walk back to the ballroom, trying to ignore your underwear that’s getting soaked with his seed and your own arousal, but you know he won’t follow you right now, most likely too insulted that you used him to get relief. You put on your mask again and enter the ballroom, immediately seeing Lord Goldbrith impatiently tapping his foot at the same spot where he stood last before leaving with a young gentleman. When you approach him he looks irritated.

“Let’s leave.” he demands and you raise your eyebrows but you don’t argue. If you can leave early and go home to wash up that’s all the better. After all, the moment Lord Goldbrith is in his carriage your job is done and you won’t argue against a short night.

“As you say.” you nod and Goldbrith curtly nods in response, then marches towards the main exit.

You follow him but give one more glance behind you before you leave the room. You notice white curls and a crimson-eyed intense, angry gaze in your direction just before dancing couples hide all of it away.

You smirk to yourself. You have a suspicion you will meet him again.

[world-of-aus]

Live Now

Pairing: Camboy!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader

Warnings: NONE.

Authors Note: Here is Part 2 to our cammers, this is just to build story up I promise the other installments will have all the smut. Enjoy Buns and Happy Readings!

Bucky stares at the message, a chuckle building in his chest as he rereads it. The cursor blinks back at him, waiting for a one-time quick wit response from him.  

His fingers hover over the keys, he types. 

I‘After that live, well I guess you could say I’m a fan in the making, had your name being dropped in my lives every other day, had to come see for myself what all the fuss was about, you don’t disappoint do you siren?’ 

Bucky plans to leave you with that, but when he moves the cursor back over the ‘x’ to close the tab your reply is coming through. 

‘Looks like I’m going to owe your following a thank you, perhaps on my next live. I’m not too keen on disappointing, I like being a good girl.’ 

Bucky feels his cock stir as he reads, then rereads your message, his fingers move over the keys. 

‘I’ll make sure to let them know to swing on by for that thank you. Is that so, well something tells me you’re not always a good girl siren, you look like you need a good knee to be tossed over occasionally.’ 

His cock hardens in his grey joggers at your response. 

‘Are you offering, because I wouldn’t decline, I could be so good for you.’ 

Any other time and Bucky would have jumped at the opportunity, but he already had someone scheduled to join his live this week, and while he would have loved to get out of his predicament, he had numbers to build, and he knew dropping one of the highest rated female cammers could have his numbers dropping within minutes if word got out.  

‘Not sure you can handle me siren.’  

Is what he offers instead, it’s not a ‘no’ but it’s not a ‘yes’ either - yet. Your response comes in seconds later. 

‘A shame, well I hope to one day get the chance to prove you wrong, till next time xoxo.’ 

Bucky smiles at that, his fingers clicking the tab closed, and opening another shortly after, and while his work email loads, he has no doubt that you’ll get that chance, he just had a loose end to tie.  

The loose end shows up as an unread response. Vixen. 

‘Buckmeup I look forward to our live tomorrow, let me know whether you prefer my place or yours.. Can’t wait to meet you.. Xx – Vixen.’ 

Bucky types up his reply, inputting his address before shooting the message back. When performing a live with another cammer he preferred his space, it made sure he was in control of the situation at all times, and he liked being in control, and inviting Vixen over ensured that. He had a good amount of time to prepare before tomorrow. 

You were on cloud nine; it had been a day and you couldn’t rid yourself of the feeling, giddiness washing over you in waves as you reread the messages between you and buckmeup for your friend. “I can’t believe it Tasha,” you breathed into the line, “buckmeup, thee buckmeup watched my live, he’s the hottest, highest rating male cammer right now!”  

The redhead laughs over the line, “and he’s also your only favorite male cammer right now,” she teases. “You still looking around for that replica dildo of his junk?” 

“Natasha,” you whine, “you think I have a chance though?” you question after a brief pause. 

“Y/n that man would have to be seriously stupid for him to pass a chance up with you, if anyone should be worried it should be him not being able to handle you, not the other way around. You’ve built yourself up, you don’t need a man to help with that.” 

Your teeth find your lower lip as you look at the messages screen, your friend was right. “I can hear you overthinking, stop it.” Your fingers close the tab, “I’m sorry,” you whine, “but the man who fuels my fantasies said I looked like I needed to be tossed over a knee, I think I'm allowed this moment, this has never happened before!” 

Natasha’s laughing, “what am I going to do with you?” 

“Help me get to the top,” you offer “take vixen’s number one spot away?” 

“If you keep following my advice, I have no doubt that you’ll reach the top soon, I mean look, your favorite cammer messaged you I’d say you’re at the halfway mark babe.” 

The giddiness returns, “he did, didn’t he.” The two of you laugh, “you sure you don’t want to come out with Clint and I tonight, it’ll be fun, you can tell me more about your interaction too.” 

“Tasha I refuse to intrude on date night, Clint may have been oblivious to the first time where I seemingly just happened to show up by myself at the same bar and grill as you two, but he’s going to know somethings up the second time around.” 

“Boo you whore.” 

“Hey,” you laugh, “I have uploading to do anyway, I finally finished editing those shots you took of me the other day.” 

“Uhuh, are you sure you won’t be viewing someone’s live tonight instead of uploading those edits?” 

“Natasha,” you laugh those it does little to hide your true intentions, “I do have to upload – and maybe take a small peek at buckmeups live – he said he was going to tell his viewers to come get their thank you from me, I have to see if it’s true!” 

The two of you laugh, Clint voice cutting through in the background, your friend sighs, “listen I’ve got to go, but I’m dropping by tomorrow, there’s a set I want you to try on.” 

“Is it more revealing then the first?” 

You can see her smirk through the phone, “you bet, see you tomorrow lover! 

“See you tomorrow, tell Clint I said hi and that we should get together soon!” 

The call ends with a click, your phone being tossed off to the side as you settle into bed. The photo editor goes ignored as you open a new tab, typing in the website you settle further into your sheets as it loads. 

You don’t have to go any farther than the first page, his profile one of the first ones to choose from. His live now notification blinks before you, welcoming, inviting. You click on it instantly, your screen going black before his figure comes onto the screen, but he’s not alone. A brunette lays spread naked on his sheets, her fingers dancing along her body as she waits for him. You don’t have to wait long to find out who she is, vixen. 

Of course it was vixen. 

A part of your mind screams at you to close the page, but the bigger part of you screams to stay, to sit and watch what she brings to the table and see the ways you could do better.  

You find it's almost painful to sit through this live, your fingers not having drifted south once since it started. You’ve almost closed the tab three times with how hard Vixen was laying it down, but you were determined to see it through to the end.  

You nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Buckmeup’s orgasm finally hits, you’d say that was the best part of this live, and with the way the coins were hitting his account you’d say his viewers thought the same as well. You should have exited at this point, but you waited, watching as Buckmeup thanked his viewers for being so good for them, that he couldn’t wait to see them next time.  

Your screen goes blank after ‘buckmeups live has now ended’ appearing on the screen before you. You’re not sure what you feel in that moment, can’t quite decipher the feeling as you exit the screen. As you open a new tab, fingers taking you to your website of work you think the feeling may be a lit fire as you upload your newest edits. 

‘To buckmeup’s fans, thank you, come join me tomorrow live, for a good time.. Xoxo – Siren’ 

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕫𝕖𝕣

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʜᴏᴡᴢᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ʜᴏᴡᴢᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ, ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴅ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀᴍɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴅɪᴄᴜʟᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴛᴇᴅɪᴏᴜꜱ ʏᴇᴛ ꜱᴇxʏ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴘʟᴀʏ

⋆ ★ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪᴛʜ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ʙʟᴜꜱʜɪɴɢ ꜰᴜʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

“What would you like me to do for you?”

You turn your head, fixing your posture as you gaze at your boyfriend across the room. He’s dressed handsomely to the nines; the black uniform shines like patent leather, silver buttons catching the light like metalwork in a museum. His white waistcoat and dress shirt peek out from beneath, hugging his form and frame most enticingly. His hands folded at his front, gloved in white, curl slowly, stretching out his knuckles as if he were preparing himself. Everything about him is pure grace and gift, something you're so thankful to lay hungry, salacious eyes upon. You lean an elbow on your armrest, taking long and thoughtful libations of his appearance. Then, you think about what he asks you.

You don’t take long. Those few words provide all you need to know. It’s a part of your secret language, how you communicate while playing characters. It’s how you know Howzer is ready to serve you as your obedient butler tonight.

“That’s a good question,” You say, smiling coyly. You spin yourself in your chair and cross your legs, casually comprising yourself into a pretty glass of water for him to drink. “I’m not sure yet.”

Howzer nods curtly, swiping his covered palms against each other as he looks at your positioning by the vanity. He’s endlessly patient, this man; especially when tasked like this to serve. You adore it.

“I’ve cleaned the sitting room and the kitchen,” He informs, and you grin in approval. “I also folded all of the laundry.”

“Thank you,” You twirl a strand of hair between a finger and bite your lip as he inches closer. You tantalize and tease the other in your little game of cat and mouse as Howzer anticipates your next move, eager and curious to see what you have in mind.

“It’s simply my job, my lady.”

Your core tingles and your spine shivers in thrill.

“Of course,” You fake correct yourself. Howzer takes another step closer. You uncross your legs and smooth out the skirt of your dress. “If you have nothing else to do…”

Perking up, he watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip and get tugged between your top teeth.

“Yes?” He waits for you to finish your sentence.

“Would you take off my shoes for me?” You lift a leg and point your toes in his direction with a raised eyebrow. It’s hard not to smirk.

You don’t expect him to comply so quickly. He drops to his knees and crawls toward you almost immediately.

He takes off your shoes, his peripheral vision guiding him as he keeps eye contact with you.

When both are off, Howzer slides a gentle palm up and down your right shin. You bite your lip.

“Good job.” 

The praise heats his cheeks.

“Of course.”

Howzer places your shoes on the floor, sliding off your socks with it, but his eyes are zeroed in on your exposed skin above, your legs set only a little spread. Not enough for him to fit his head between them, but certainly enough to get a good look.

He hisses. Crest of his chin dipping down, the motion is almost like he’s bowing to his high commander, keen to obey. He purses his lips and plants a firm, long kiss on the side of your calf. His eyes remain shut as he trails his mouth up and kisses the very beginning of your inner thigh.

You hum, patting his head and running your fingers through his soft hair in a soothing, overly doting manner.

“I think you’re a little distracted, Howzer,” you tell him with a fake frown.

“I’m sorry.” At least the apology seems profuse. “How would you like me to serve you, my lady?”

You pretend to take your time thinking thoughtfully over what you want him to do. But you already know. You spread your legs further.

“Slide my panties off…” Humming softly as he runs his hands on the outside of your thighs, slipping past your skirt and hovering over the waistband of your panties. You lean in further, nipping at his ear while one hand cradles his jaw. “...and eat.”

Something of a groan leaves his throat. His next words are barely a whisper, muttered against your skin when he leans in to finally get his fill, fulfill your request.

“As you wish…”

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @meshlaxbunny @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @imarvelatthestars

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Descent into Avernus and Why You Should Read It.

(Or, like, at least skim!)

Descent into Avernus is the D&D 5E module describing the events that took place just before the timeline of Baldur's Gate 3 picks up — including more information and context for the ordeals undergone by the tiefling refugees.

The module is described as "complimentary [sic.] to the story of Baldur's Gate III", and the studio itself made a point to note that they "worked with Adam Lee, one of the lead writers of Descent Into Avernus, when crafting the story of Baldur's Gate III."¹

The section I would most strongly recommend taking a look at concerns the city and citizens of Baldur's Gate itself, the "Baldur's Gate Gazetteer", spanning from pages 158 to 215.

Included here are things like:

A stat block and bio for Nine-Fingers Keene (although, sadly, nothing on just what she has going on with Jaheira–).

Further information on Dukes Ravengard and Stelmane.

A full map of the city, and subsequent sections giving details of each region.

A section on Ramazith's Tower, and its current master, Lorroakan.

Details on a variety of named and well-described businesses.

Further clarifying information on exactly what is going on with Wyll's new horns.

I'll work on making some individual posts in the coming days delving into these aspects and more, but if you'd rather not wait around for that for all your worldbuilding and storytelling needs, go forth with my blessing, and this handy guide² to an accessible copy:

[Keyword Search Terms: "Descent Into Avernus" + "Anyflip"]

¹ Christian Hoffer. "Dungeons & Dragons Clarifies Relationship Between Descent Into Avernus and Baldur's Gate III". June 2019. comicbook.com.

² I tried to include the link with the original attempt at this post, but the Tumblr tag index did not like that. I hope this alternative suffices.

[cielsosinfel]

I already posted this on twt and bsky but I need to start cataloguing my thoughts here too kfhkhk

I'm trying to get through Jaheira-relevant subquests before I punt her back to camp with her buddies Minsc and Boo, and then I'll go ransack Cazador's place for horny VelliCazStar spice, BUT FIRST!! THE NINE-FINGERS KEENE CONFRONTATION IF YOU HAVE JAHEIRA WITH YOU...

There's history between these two that goes back years, but never actually comes up in BG3 itself in detail, and I wish it did because there is such a TENSION between them here... Like you can tell there is such a heavy weight of shared time together, for good or for ill. In the teasing way Keene calls Jaheira "grandmother," to the way she dances around outright saying she was worried for her, but...

One of the first things Keene says to Jaheira is that, after Jaheira ran off headfirst into likely death with her Harpers and everyone assumed she was dead, Keene made an offering of a gold coin to Kelemvor for her..... which I feel like says a lot given the kind of person Keene is, and how they're polar-opposites when it comes to morals, what they deem acceptable when it comes to "ends justifying the means."

And honestly Keene DOES sound miffed that Jaheira vanished without a word and left her feeling EMOTIONAL about this stubborn woman's apparent death? The "After Jaheira warned me- and then disappeared-" just screams "yeah not that I was worried or anything, you ASSHOLE," like the only other character so far I think talk like this to her are her own KIDS. So to me it just says something about their relationship, that Keene was so concerned about this woman who should be a reluctant ally at best.

This too: "if you actually cared for her as much as a friend should, you'd be telling her to think about her own life for once" are you implying that you see yourself as a better friend to Jaheira, Keene...

AND THEN JAHEIRA BREAKING OUT KEENE'S FIRST NAME, HER PRE-CRIMELORD NAME!!! dsjgjhjh And we know they met after Keene was already in the Guild, I can't remember if it's AFTER Keene came to control it but? It's well after her adopting her Nine-fingers Keene moniker for business, so where did Jaheira learn the Astele, and when did she start breaking it out in arguments where she desperately wants Keene to listen to her?

Also I just love that Keene is so insistent Jaheira takes a break. She can't talk her down from running headfirst into yet more peril, from feeling responsibility to always take on as much of a burden as she can, but she can at least try to wrangle the woman into even a short rest.

But also, when you talk to her while playing as Jaheira, and Keene says "Anything I can do to take that wrinkle from your brow?" am I the only one whose brain immediately fizzled out thinking how sexual it sounded... Not necessarily in tone, but just... the word choice... Yes, Jaheira, is there anything this equally-stubborn, needling younger woman with an ocean of respect for you can DO to help you unwind and loosen up....?👀

If they haven't fucked in the past I'll eat my hat.

Thank you for coming to my TL;DR rambling nonsensical Jaheira/Keene thoughts.

[inyri]

❛ why does it feel like this is goodbye? ❜ from the sentence starters 👀

 (I’m not sure if we’ll get here in long form- I’d thought so once, but given the current pace of my writing I suspect I’ll bring Equivalent Exchange to a natural close before we reach this point in the story, then continue Nine and Theron’s tale in shorter pieces. It's a bit of a cheat, but that's authorial prerogative for you.

Something lost is found. SWTOR. Nine/Theron.)

*

She sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Theron as he scuffs nervously at the floor with the toe of his boot. (Stars, she’s missed this bed, missed this whole apartment even if she doesn’t miss the Kaasi rain falling in sheets against the windows or the periodic assassination attempts- but ah, the view from the balcony toward the sea-)

“You look,” she finally says, considering his expression carefully, “like the tooka that ate the bulabird. What exactly did you do while I was off with Acina?”

He turns to make sure the door’s closed before he answers. “Oh, you know. Took a tour of the place. Sliced a few things- databases, mostly. Census data. Population records. The Intelligence database, for about ten seconds.”

“You-” she chokes. The fact that he’s still standing here means he probably got away with it, but- “I thought I told you to behave yourself. If they figure out what you did- I know you’re not keen on parallel work with the Empire, Theron-”

“I didn’t get caught.” He rolls his eyes and rummages in his jacket pocket for his commpad. “I didn’t get caught last time either, for what it’s worth, but I did find what I was looking for.” 

(Last time? That’s- oh, lovely brilliant reckless idiot boy, he’s going to get himself into far more trouble than she can fix one of these years.)

She raises an eyebrow as he holds the commpad out toward her. 

“I found you.”

She gestures up and down along her body. “Of course you did. I’m right here. I know that mess with Lorman looked like a near enough miss, but-”

Theron shakes his head vehemently, pressing it into her hand and curling her fingers closed around it. “No, you don’t understand. I found you- pre-Cipher you. In the archives.”

“Impossible.” Or it ought to have been; after Hunter she’d watched the Minister purge her file with her own eyes and even then there was nothing left of an old life in it, nothing left but a ghost. The Ghost. “Not in the Intelligence database. They burn all that out when we CIpher.”

“Not in the Intelligence database, no.” He crouches down next to her as her heart twists in her chest. It ought to have been impossible. It ought to have been. “But I followed a thread from the personnel records, and then another and then another and then I found this. Imperial Academy prospective cadet interview number 00-828317. Locked subfolder, but-” he shrugs.    

The number doesn’t hurt. They didn’t take that from her, before, but there’s a pressure building behind her eyes- too close to something that they did, then. Far too close. She takes a deep breath. “Did you see it?”

“Only the first few seconds, and not with audio- didn’t want Lana to notice before I could pull it off the network. She looks like you, though.” 

“I suppose she would.” She lets the commpad settle on her lap, looks down at it like it might bite. (It might.) 

After a moment Theron stands. “I should go. You don’t have to decide if you want to watch it now- I shouldn’t have assumed-” 

“No,” she says, reaches up for his hand without looking and her fingers lace through his. “Stay.”

He sits down beside her; she presses play. 

[she is eleven years old.

she is eleven years old and wearing a white blouse and a black skirt and her hair in two neat plaits down her back and she is standing, hands folded, in front of a table where four men and a woman sit in identical uniforms, backs to the camera. 

we’ll begin, says the man second from right. please state your name for the record.

she nods, and opens her mouth. mustn’t smile too much or they’ll think she’s silly, mustn’t pull at her plait or at her shirtsleeves, mustn’t-]

(oh Void oh Void oh Void it HURTS and he holds on to her- should I stop it? I can stop it- and she shakes her head furiously so he just keeps holding on)

[yes, sir, she says. it is important to show respect, father said. my name is N-]

It’s impossible. It’s impossible. 

It’s her name. 

She does stop the recording then, not because she wants to but because she’s going to bleed all over his damned commpad if she doesn’t. Her nose drips down onto her shirt until she pinches it closed and then she turns her head toward Theron as he mutters apology after apology into the top of her head. “I had a feeling,” she murmurs, “that was going to happen.”

“So that’s your name? N-” he almost says it aloud but stops himself, free hand pressed against his mouth. “Stars, I'm sorry. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“It may get easier with time. We can try more of the video later- I only remember a little bit. I thought it might all come back at once, but-”

Theron nods. “I hope so- that it gets easier, I mean. That it comes back. But your name, it… it suits you.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah.” He kisses her hair, then her forehead, then the tip of her nose beneath her still-pinching fingers. “Though it’s weird- why does this almost feel like a goodbye?”

“To Cipher Nine? No. it's not-” she shakes her head. “It’s- hello, Theron Shan. My name-” she breathes in and the pain lessens and it wouldn’t matter anyway, all the pain in the universe would be worth it to see that look on his face again and again- “is Nyriala.”

[hamsterclaw]

Top Boy

The shit that goes down when you venture out on the Northern line keeps you on your toes.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader, Hoseok 'Jay' x f! reader

Rating: 18+, minors dni

Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing

Word count: 3k

Author note: The Northern line on the London underground's notorious for being fucking long, and I used to take this route every day. There was never a cutie like Yoongi sitting across from me, ever!

The boy sat opposite you on the tube’s checking you out, he’s subtle about it but you know he’s noticed you.

You don’t mind, you didn’t put this dress on not to be seen.

You cross and uncross your legs, and catch his eyes flick to your thighs. 

You act like you haven’t noticed, scroll your phone. 

Next stop’s yours, you step out, minding the gap.

Walk down the platform to the way out, skipping past the signs for the other lines.

No Jubilee no the fuck Picadilly, tonight you have business to conduct.

You glance over your shoulder as you get on the escalator, notice that he’s behind you, one escalator over. 

Catch him staring at your ass, he doesn’t even look sorry about it.

You raise your brow at him and turn back.

He’s cute, all earrings and hair so fluffy you want to run your fingers through it. Even the hoodie he’s wearing is cute, oversized and emblazoned with initials on the front. Black on black on black.

You shake him off, tap your way out, turn right coming out the station.

It’s Jay you’re meeting tonight, and you don’t want to keep him waiting because out of all the guys you do business with, he’s the nicest and you actually do like him.

It’s barely nine and it’s dark because here you’re practically in fucking suburbia, the outer tendrils of the fucking Northern line of all places.

Jay’s waiting by the caf, outside even though it’s chilly for September.

Like you, dressed to be seen, a patchwork jumper in a riot of colours, hair ice blond, chains around his neck. Stomper boots that give him more height on you when he was taller than you to begin with.

He greets you with a bright smile you can’t help but return. 

You give him your latest, a stack of cards advertising a club night he’s hosting as J-hope.

He likes your work, you can tell by the way his eyes light up, making him look even brighter.

He shuffles through the stack, like you wouldn’t be consistent, or maybe his hands just need something to do. 

Jay seems like he’s always in motion. 

You wonder what he’s like in bed. 

Jay’s talking to you, smiling forgivingly when you apologise for tuning out, and then you realise someone else has joined you. 

The guy from the tube. The one who checked out your ass and legs and that was only what you caught him doing. 

When he speaks, introduces himself as Yoongi, you’re surprised by how deep and smooth his voice is. Is he a rapper like Jay? You want to hear more. 

You realise he’s waiting for you to say something, so you say your name. 

‘Want to get Korean food?’ Jay’s offering. ‘There’s a place down this road.’ 

You’re keen, you’re hungry, the boys are cute and you cannot face another trek down the Northern line when you’ve only just got here. 

You slip into a little hole in the wall with club flyers in the windows and a menu that’s all in Hangul with pictures. Jay and Yoongi discuss what they want in a mix of Korean and South London, and you check out your new friend to pass the time. 

He’s prettier up close, they both are. 

‘Our friend’s coming too, he’s running late,’ Jay tells you, once he’s ordered. 

‘Yeah?’

You don’t really know Jay that well but he seems cool, you’re sure his friends are cool. 

Yoongi’s leant back in the chair across from you. His knee brushes yours under the table, he didn’t seem that tall but maybe it’s the way he sits, spread out like his balls need their own fucking seat. 

God, this guy. 

‘Do you rap?’ you ask Yoongi. 

He curls his lip at you, makes your heart skip two beats. Fuck, this guy. 

‘Yeah. Jay and I perform together sometimes,’ he says. ‘What about you, do you rap?’ 

You laugh. ‘Nah, I just advertise,’ you tell him. 

‘Shame, I’d like to see you on a stage,’ he says, tucking his tongue into his cheek.

‘You being rude?’ you ask, sharp, and he straightens up, abrupt. 

Your eyes lock. 

Jay says, easy, ‘yeah, Yoongi, apologise, Y/N’s designs are too fucking good for me to lose her over you being a dickhead.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Yoongi says, no hesitation, just simple. ‘Also I’m sorry for checking you out hard on the tube.’

‘You weren’t that disrespectful,’ you say, shrugging. ‘I know how I look.’ 

‘That dress,’ Jay says, shaking his head. ‘You look good, Y/N.’ 

Behind you the door opens with a gust of cold. 

Jay and Yoongi are up, greeting their friend with affectionate hugs, the bro kind where their chests bump hard and make your own tits ache in phantom sympathy. 

The new guy turns to you, you can barely see his face under his beanie and over his face mask, but his eyes are bright, round, and he’s cute in a non-intimidating way. 

‘Jungkook,’ he says, eyes crinkling. 

You say your own name, he squeezes himself in next to you at the table.

The food starts coming, the conversation’s easy, and the fruity soju eases any awkward silences.

You’re having a good time with these cuties.

Jay’s as charming as he ever was, Jungkook’s a sweetheart but it’s Yoongi you find your eyes wandering to. 

You catch him looking back at you more often than not. 

Is it that you catch him or that he wants you to know he’s looking? 

Annoyingly he’s exactly your type. 

Aloof compared to Jay and Jungkook’s warmth, smiling a little like he’s amused by your jokes. 

Flicking his eyes to yours ever so often. 

Jolts of electric contact when he shifts in his seat, when he puts morsels on your plate. 

Jay calls for the bill, you’ve already made plans to stop by his friend’s place after. 

Jay seems to have a lot of friends but honestly, it doesn’t surprise you, not with the way he is. He smiles at the waitresses, making them giggle in unison. He acts like he enjoys all of Jungkook’s jokes, and the kid’s cute but he’s not as cute as the big deal Jay keeps making out of him. You remember the way he told Yoongi to behave himself on your behalf. 

The way Jay puts a hand on your back as you step out of the restaurant makes you look over at him curiously. 

He smiles at you, kind. ‘It’s a longish walk to my friend’s - will you be warm enough?’ 

‘Jungkook’s got enough layers to keep all of us warm,’ Yoongi says, on your other side. 

Jungkook obligingly offers his scarf. 

The walk’s shorter than you expected, or maybe you just wanted to walk more, with Jay next to you, chattering excitedly. His train of thought is difficult to follow, more of a series of unrelated stops than a linear path, but he’s so sweetly enthusiastic you like listening to him anyway. 

Behind you, you can hear Jungkook whinging to Yoongi, talking in pout so thick you can’t make out any individual words. Yoongi’s indulgent, his low voice soothing. 

Jay’s friend lives in a basement apartment off the high street, down a set of slippy concrete steps, purple filtering out the tiny window you can see from the front. 

The music’s banging, some sort of moody rock, heavy on the synth. 

Yoongi passes you a drink, something that looks like fucking Vimto but is enough to put hairs on your chest, if you were in the habit of speaking like your grandad. God rest his soul.

Yoongi takes the cup from you, chugs it down, says, ‘I’ll get you a better drink.’

He clasps your hand, tugs you gently behind him like he’s used to leading pretty girls to their own destruction.

His grip is firm, fingers knitting between yours in a way that seems intimate, bordering on erotic with the way his rings press against your skin.

‘Wait,’ you say, stopping.

Your face is already tilted to his when he turns around. 

His mouth tastes like sweet, his tongue cold from the drink. He grunts. Slides his arm around your waist like he was just waiting for an excuse to pull you up against him.

His rings are cold against the back of your neck as his mouth devours yours.

His thigh finds its way between yours, and you’re a short step away from grinding against it when Jay’s voice manages somehow to penetrate your haze.

‘Can I join?’ he asks, the cheeky bastard, like you’re talking fairground rides or the fucking queue to the loos or some shit.

You tilt your head at him.

‘Is that a yes?’ he asks.

Yoongi just waits, arm around your waist.

‘Yeah,’ you say. 

Jay walks around Jimin’s place like he knows it well, takes you out into his yard.

You’re warm from the soju and the new drink Yoongi had got you passing through the kitchen.

Jay reaches up above the doorframe, plucks out a key and a shed opens up into what looks like a bougie wet dream of a garden den.

‘Fuck,’ Yoongi says, admiring the sound equipment set up. 

Jay turns the lights down low, pats the seat of the couch next to him.

‘Come sit,’ he invites. 

You park your ass next to his. 

He still hasn’t touched you at all.

‘We can just chill if you want,’ he says, smiling, easy.

In response, you turn into him, put your hand on his chest and kiss him.

He lets out a slow breath, warm on your cheek. His lips are soft. He teases you, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, plunging his tongue into your mouth in a suggestive rhythm that makes your cunt clench and your panties stick to you.

Yoongi’s kneeling by your feet, between your legs, big hands on each of your thighs.

‘Can I taste you too?’ he asks.

‘Tell me how wet she is, Yoongi,’ Jay says, pulling away from you just enough for his words to travel.

You let Yoongi part your thighs. His dark eyes travel up your bare legs, to the apex of your thighs.

‘Take em off,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped low, the gravel in it making you shiver.

You lift your hips, tug your panties down. 

Jay’s still kissing you, one hand over the curve of your waist. He grips your flesh, fingertips pressed into your skin, under your dress.

Yoongi hooks a finger over your curled up panties, tugs. His knuckle brushes against your cunt, and you whimper. He hums, curls his hands around your ass, pulls you forward on the couch.

He looks up at you from between your legs, has the audacity to smirk.

‘Can I taste?’

‘I already said you could,’ you remind him.

Yoongi laughs, pushes your thighs further apart to make room for his face. 

‘Careful what you wish for, pretty girl,’ he says, and there’s just enough time for the thrill of anticipation to snap you upright like a bow before his mouth is on you.

The rudeboy from the tube’s got his warm mouth on your cunt, and his tongue on your clit, and you were already wet and wanting from Jay’s kisses but now you want to move.

Shit, you need to move. You hear a breathy keening noise, a quiet moan, and you realise it’s you. You’ve got your hand carded through Yoongi’s hair, you’re rocking against his face, and fuck, fuck, this fucking guy’s forcing your hand. 

He laps the tip of his tongue against you, licking your clit swollen, making your thighs tremble with need.

‘Ngh,’ you gasp, an intake of breath you’ve sucked straight out of Jay’s warm mouth. 

Jay runs a hand over your waist, squeezing. He brushes his lips over your neck, shifts a little, throwing the outline of his hard cock into stark relief against his jeans. 

He utters a slow, raspy, ‘fuh—uck’ as you reach down for him. He grabs your hand, presses it down on himself, hard, grinds into your palm. 

Shit, you hadn’t realised how whiny Jay could sound, and how much you’d like it. 

He’s unbuttoning his jeans, drawing himself out. 

Fuck, he’s pretty. His cock’s smooth, warm and makes your mouth water just thinking about how good it’d feel if he put it inside you. 

Yoongi’s watching, open mouthed over your cunt, as Jay helps you lay back. He squeezes your thigh. 

‘Hobi cries sometimes when he comes hard,’ he tells you. ‘Bet you can make him cry.’ 

You let out a hum that morphs into a moan as Yoongi buries his face between your legs again. 

‘Who the fuck’s Hobi?’ 

‘Right here,’ Jay says, cock poised over your mouth. He smiles at you, still pretty, and his hand comes up to tilt your chin. ‘Ready?’ 

You nod a yes, and Jay slides his cock past your lips, slow, hissing as you take him in. He leans forward, hands over your breasts.

‘Shit, she’s pretty, isn’t she?’ he asks. 

Yoongi’s murmured response, against your core, makes you tremble. ‘Bet she looks pretty when she comes.’ 

Jay fucks in and out of your mouth, slow, letting you get used to his rhythm, as Yoongi licks you out. 

‘You gonna come?’ Yoongi asks, taunting. 

You have no idea if he’s speaking to you or Jay, but the image of him smirking cockily at you ramps the pleasure up even more. He slides a hand up your thigh, slides a single finger into you, curling it as he sucks at your clit, and you’re coming helplessly, crying out around Jay’s cock. 

‘That’s it,’ Yoongi says, approving. You can feel him laying feather-light kisses on you as you come down, hands on your thighs anchoring you. 

Jay rocks his hips against you as he thrusts. He pulls out, cock gleaming with your spit, hand coming up to stroke himself over your face. 

You watch breathlessly as he groans, hand tightening over his cock. 

‘Come in my mouth,’ you tell him. 

‘Yeah?’ he asks, but he’s already slipping inside, whining as you swallow around him. 

He comes with a gasp, ropes of cum filling your mouth, dribbling out the sides. 

He stills completely, working to catch his breath. 

When he pulls out of your mouth he pulls his shirt off, uses it to wipe at your lips. 

‘Shit’s designer,’ you protest. 

‘Baby, you’re the work of art,’ Jay returns. He smiles at you, tosses the shirt across the couch, helps you sit up. ‘Let me get you a drink.’ 

‘Get me one too,’ Yoongi says. He’s climbed up onto the couch to sit next to you, leaning his head back. 

Jay laughs softly, lets himself out of the cabin, closing the door behind him. 

Yoongi looks at you in the low light, eyes dark. His lips are pink, slick and shiny. As you look at him, he bites his lower lip. 

You reach over, hand on his chest, and kiss him. 

He murmurs something you can’t quite catch, lost in the rush of blood to your head as you kiss. He’s good at it, lips soft, tilting his head so he can kiss you more deeply. 

‘Fuck, Yoongi,’ you whimper. 

‘Yeah?’ he asks. ‘Want more?’ 

He pulls you into his lap, thighs either side of him. 

You’re half-undressed, your dress never really made it off you but your tits are out and straddling Yoongi’s made the skirt ride up. You wonder what Yoongi did to your panties. 

‘Take em off,’ you say, tugging at his jeans. 

‘Yeah,’ he agrees. He’s unbuckling his belt, lifting his hips up into you to slide his jeans and briefs off. 

He curls a hand around his cock, looks up at you, smirks, this fucking guy. 

‘How do you want me?’ he asks. 

‘I saw you looking at me on the tube,’ you tell him. ‘What did you want to do to me?’ 

He doesn’t falter, this fucking guy. 

‘Was thinking about you riding me,’ he tells you, mouth close to your ear. ‘Just like this.’ 

He grips your hips, grunts as you take him in. 

‘You don’t need my help, do you?’ he asks, taunting. ‘Didn’t think you would.’ 

He slaps your ass, the rings on his fingers stinging your skin. He kicks his head back, eyes closed, humming low in his chest as you ride him. 

‘Stay nice and tight for me, ok?’ he says, the gravel in his voice making your toes curl. ‘That’s my girl, fuck.’ 

He reaches up, pinches your nipple, and you whimper. 

You’re moving faster now, rocking against him, pleasure unfurling with every movement of your hips. 

‘Good girl,’ Yoongi urges. ‘Doing so well.’ 

He pulls you down, bites the side of your neck, and you come with a cry, so loud your ears ring. 

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. ‘Oh my fucking days,’ he groans. ‘Fuck.’ 

He grabs your hips, fucks up into you, shudders as he spills inside you, teeth still buried in your neck. 

He knits his fingers into your hair, pulls you down, seals his lips to yours until his breathing slows. 

You pull away, lazy, still more connected to him than not. 

‘Shit, that was fucking hot,’ Jay says, from the door. 

He wanders in, hands you a cup of water, cups your chin like he’s going to catch any spillage as you drink. 

‘You boys are f’kin crazy,’ you say, still breathless. 

Yoongi’s still got an arm around you. 

The door to the cabin opens again, and Yoongi groans. ‘Shit, didn’t you lock the door, Hobi.’ 

‘It’s only JK,’ Jay says, casual. ‘You know how he likes to watch.’ 

You turn around and catch Jungkook, wide-eyed, staring at your bare ass. 

Yoongi laughs. ‘Here, put this on before you make the baby cum in his pants.’ 

He tosses your panties at you, tongue pocketed in his cheek. 

‘I don’t think he’s a baby,’ you say, but you put your panties on anyway. 

Jungkook’s flushed beet red, turned around, facing the door. ‘Can I turn around now?’ 

Jay helps you straighten out your dress as Yoongi pulls his jeans back up. 

‘So,’ Jay asks, face bright, beaming so hard he’s blinding. 

‘Where should we go next?’ 

©hamsterclaw 2023