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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - age gap (the reader is in their early 20s) - porn with plot - oral (f! + m! receiving) - threesome - double penetration; anal (first time) & vaginal - restricted movement (hands tied up) - face-sitting - cowgirl dp positions - gun + knife play - choking - spanking - unprotected sex - overstimulation - degradation (brat, broad, slut, whore) - pet names (baby, dollface, good girl, pet, princess) - blackmail/threats - the reader is in an established relationship w/ Nanami - mentions of blood, tears, spit, and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (told you, porn with plot, lol)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhhhh happy Friday the 13th, everybody???? blame @ramonathinks for this idea (jk, don't, she's so amazing, ty for pushing me into this, mona bear ♡ and tysm for beta reading; your thoughts mean the world). Haven't done a fic in two months sooooo go easy on me!! Not proofread, so I'll fix stuff l8rrrr

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! Just answer the question!”

“You’re so fucking sick, you know that!?” You glare at your friend, who slumps on the booth chair with a heavy sigh.

A slight breeze tickles your skin through your comfortable sweatshirts as the leaves on the trees slowly change to autumnal colors, and Halloween decor is already adorning every house and every yard. It was a warm and sunny afternoon on this pleasant Friday. Usually, you’d be cozied up in your apartment enjoying yourself, probably catching up on some horror flicks you missed last year.

But alas, that was not the case. Because you’re a college student. As October has finally rolled around, only one thing prevents you from enjoying this beautiful season — midterms. The thought of it is enough to pull you into a pool of dread. Every day has been one whirlwind after another. Yet, on the bright side, all you have now is one last exam to worry about, and you’ll finally be able to rest this weekend. So here you are, at the diner with your best friend, Shoko Ieiri, completing your papers while eating off your plates to satiate the stress. For the most part, things were going smoothly.

Until the news anchor on the television at the bar relays an announcement…

“…Once again, everyone, please be on the lookout for these two killers on the loose. Three weeks ago, the two recently escaped from their cells, killed three guards, and are still at large. There have been accounts around the state that reported recent sightings of either or both criminals, the recent one being in this county 27 hours ago. So, please, stay safe. The killers are identified to be…”

And Shoko, being the curious person she is, asks you a question that stops your fingers from typing on your laptop: “Do you find those killers hot?”

That’s how you two end up where you are now, groaning at the brunette’s persistence in getting your approval to find two criminals — murderers, even! — attractive.

“Hey, Y/n, I know you hear me.” Shoko snaps their fingers at you while you try to get the assignment done. “Just answer the question: don’t you think those guys are hot.”

“We didn’t come all this way for you to talk about your hybristophilia fantasies.” Facing the Word document, you remind your friend why you’re here in the first place. “Just get back to writing; I wanna finish this and get home.” There’s nothing said afterward for a few seconds, thinking she has finally given up.

However, “First of all,” your eyes close to conceal them rolling behind the lids. “I’m not into hybristophilia; I just know a hot guy when I see one. Second, look at their mugshots. Like, damn, you’ve ever seen anyone so intimidatingly good-looking before? Come on, have a look!”

“You’re such a weirdo,” the click-clacking of your fingertips tapping your keyboard fills the rest of your answer.

Still, she persists. “Y/n, look at the phoooone~”

No words, only tapping keys.

“Y/n?”

The keys become louder.

“Pretty, pretty, pleaseeeee~?”

Louder.

“Y/n!!”

A fist bangs on the booth table as the other closes the laptop shut, sending another glare to the person across from you who holds the phone up. You’ve had it at this point, so you say with a steady breath, “If I look at the dumb mugshots and answer your dumb question, will your dumbass leave me alone and finish your work?” The brunette only puts the phone on the table and slides it your way, giving you big doe eyes and whimpers like a hurt puppy. You sigh with your nostrils as you snatch the phone up, your gaze stationed on the images presented.

The image displayed two mugshots: on the left was a man with raven hair and a scar on the left of his lip. Intense, forest-green orbs contrast the black strands that cover his forehead. The mugshot letter board below him is labeled as "Toji Fushiguro." The one on the right is another man with spiky salmon-colored hair pushed upfront with prominent black tattoos decorating his nose, cheeks, and forehead. The board named him as “Sukuna Ryōmen.”

You look at the pictures intently, examining the men’s features at your discretion. It didn’t occur to you how long you were gawking at the mugshots until you peered from the phone to see Shoko give you the biggest shit-eating grin. Shaking your head, you chew the inside of your cheek before responding.

“….Well,” you cough. “…they’re not terrible looking at all. They are…..hot.”

“Told you!” Shoko slams the table with high enthusiasm, earning another sigh from you as she snatches the phone back. “Would you fuck them?”

You almost popped a vein. What the fuck—“is wrong with you!?”

“It’s just a question, geez.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Or is that too lewd and raunchy to ask the partner of the trusting, charismatic “Golden Boy” SGA president, Kento Nanami?”

You choke on your spit before you can say anything, and your cheeks dial in warmth. “S-Shut up! Don’t bring my love life into whatever deviant horny thoughts you’re thinking!”

“I’m sorry, I’m boreeeeeeed. I don’t wanna do this paper, ugh.” The brunette whines and bangs their forehead on the table surface; your eyes roll for the fifteenth time in the past three hours. “…Maybe I should get some dick after this.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to use the restroom.”

You exit the dining booth when they give you a muffled response of anguish, straightening yourself and heading for the back of the diner. As you walked away, you noticed a pair of hooded figures sitting at the booth behind you. Realization kicks in, and you groan internally. Oh, God, they probably heard what we were talking about! But what caught your mind next was that one of them had a black mark on the bridge of their nose. Huh, what an odd tattoo…

After using the toilet, you wash your hands at the sink, but your mind is still fixated on that weird tattoo. Who would get such a thing on their face? Wouldn’t that hurt? I wonder if that’s the only tatt— And then It clicked, you quickly turn off the faucet and dry your hands, exit the rest restroom, and run to your booth. Shoko was begrudgingly typing away on their laptop until she saw you return in a hurry.

“Hey, you okay?” She asks you, but you aren’t looking at them. Your face contoured to a confused expression as you stared at the booth behind the one you were sitting in, now empty.

“Did…..The two people who sat behind us, did you see them?”

“Hmm? No, I didn’t. Must’ve left while my head was on the table.”

“Uh huh…” you say nothing more as you slowly sit back in front of your laptop. Your mind is now clouded with confusing thoughts, questioning your experience up until now. It could be a coincidence, quite far out at that. Regardless, you could’ve sworn you saw that tattoo on the Sukuna guy that Shoko showed you. It was such an uncommon decor, especially since you just saw it on the face of a criminal. Not to mention, the news anchor earlier stated that those two killers were in this exact county…

Needless to say, you didn’t touch your keyboard for about twenty minutes. Your mind was too wrapped up elsewhere to think clearly about your school assignment, and your body harbored a disturbing chill worse than the soft autumn winds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, why are you researching about the loose killers again?”

“Hm? Oh,” you stop typing on the laptop to attend to the phone call you’re on. Exiting your bedroom, you walk to the living room. “No reason, I was just curious. I saw something about them on the news at the diner with Shoko.”

The person on the other side of the line hums. “You should be careful about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know, Kenty,” you open the sliding door to your balcony and close it behind you before taking a seat on the cream-colored swing chair.

“I’m very serious, Y/n.” It was none other than Kento Nanami who was speaking with you. The trustworthy “Golden Boy” of your class year, the circumspect president of the Student Government Association… your loving and attentive boyfriend.

"I know you are."

"And those guys aren't just any usual criminals. They're notorious killers who barge into people's homes at night to steal valuable things. Maybe even kill their victims in their sleep if they have the time. So, be very careful, okay? Can’t trust these streets at night, especially now with those guys on the run. So, don’t go anywhere alone, always have your pepper spray on you, and be sure everything is locked — doors, windows, everything.”

A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah, I double-checked all the locks once I got inside.”

No one says a word; the rustling of the trees and the beeping of cars from the traffic at the light substitute this awkward silence. Until Nanami says, “….You scared?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind flashing back to the bewildering encounter at the diner earlier today. Those two hooded men, one with a black tattoo on his face. It felt too surreal to feel like a coincidence, yet it wasn’t too far out of your mind to think as such. The timing was strange, with the news reporter and your conversation with Shoko. The thought of two murderers nonchalantly being in the same space as you rub you off in the worst way imaginable. “…Kinda, yeah. A bit spooked.”

“You want me to come up there and spend the night?”

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” you hurriedly decline his proposal. “I know you’re busy with homework and student government stuff. I wouldn’t want you moving around so much; I’d feel bad.”

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and your heart swoons at the sound. “Don’t feel bad; you could never be a burden to me, especially when your safety is my top priority.” Another skip of the beat; it’ll never fail to amaze you how sweet he is with his words.

“Thank you, Kenty. But still, I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. You don’t have to see me right this moment. Besides, isn’t Haibara supposedly dragging you to some party at Geto’s?” Nanami is silent for a few seconds before he groans; a smile creeps up on your face at his reaction.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to leave to pick him up, and then we can go…But I can cancel and come o—“

“Absolutely not.” You’re quick to interject. “You’ve been so high and on edge with your exams. This is the first party after midterm week. And I can bet my left toe that Gojo — cause you know he’ll be there if Geto is — will be upset you couldn’t make it.”

“…….Which one?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five toes on your left foot, so which one—“

“Kento.” He chuckles once more for your ears to hear at the use of his real name. “Have fun, okay?”

Nanami hums. “I’ll try. I’ll come by your place Sunday. Sounds good?”

“Perfect. Take some pics for me. Love you!”

Your boyfriend bids you farewell before ending the call, already missing his voice. A yawn creeps out from you, a sign that you are indeed fatigued and need rest. Leaving the balcony, you close the door and do a final check at your door. Confirmed that it’s locked and secured, you turn off the living room lights and head back to your bedroom to get some shut-eye.

You shut off and close your laptop on your desk before turning off the lights. Then, you lift the comforter and finally enter the chilly embrace of your bedsheets. Usually, you’d scroll on your phone for a little bit until you get drowsy enough to fall asleep. Yet — it could be because of the exam you were doing at the diner — you felt way more exhausted than usual and wanted to sleep right away. And you did just that: closed your eyes, listened to the calming rhythm of your breaths, and soon drifted into an anticipated slumber.

….Three Hours Later….

The next time you open your eyes, you’re not in the room you left yourself in — let alone the bed.

Instead, you find yourself somewhere cold and dark. Your bed is nowhere in sight, just a lone chair facing you. There are no windows, no desks, just you and this chair with a sole overhead light that almost blinds you when you slowly get up.

The change of scenery throws you off as one thought after another picks up the pace of confusion. Where am I? What is this place? This has to be a sick dream of mine…Wait a minute. You look down to find your pajamas are shriveled and torn up, pieces of the material scattered all over where you’re lying on the cold floor. Also, what the fuck!? You can’t seem to move your hands and feet, noticing that there’s some rope restricting your limbs from moving freely from one another. No matter how hard you try, squirming does little to no help, yet it confirms that this is not a dream.

What the absolute fuck is going on right now!? It was an appropriate question for this perplexing situation, not knowing where to pick up from to start picking clues as to why you’re here. Better yet, who brought you here?

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

You turn to the sound of a door opening and closing; the direction it came from makes it hard to register the distance of whoever was speaking to you. However, that doesn’t matter because you can hear footsteps approaching you and a figure stepping into the light. And when the face finally comes to your field of vision, your blood shifts into an immediate icy cold.

Standing to you by the chair was a man in a tight black shirt that exhibited his muscular arms and physique way too perfectly, harboring dark and baggy pants. But those weren’t the features that had your breath hitch. No, no. The man before you had raven hair with the length stopped to his ears and strands that covered his brows. They did not even try concealing the striking green eyes that looked straight at you. And the familiar scar at the right of his lip put everything together for you — the mugshot that Shoko showed me, the inmate that escaped prison…!

Toji Fushiguro, in the flesh, takes a seat on the chair with his legs spread while putting on black gloves. He notices your look of realization and smirks; you don’t like how his scar is rooted up with the motion. “Y’re a pretty heavy sleeper, ya know that. But I guess that made bringing you here a lil’ simple.”

A tiny bit of confidence prompts you to speak with the man. “Whe–Where am I?”

“C’mon now, little girl,” your stomach churns when he scoffs at you. He brings up a hand to help him as he cracks his neck. God, why is he so jacked!!? “Y’re supposed to be smart, right? You know that’s the wrong question to ask me.”

Okay then, think, Y/n, think… ”…Why did you kidnap me? Is it for money? Because I don’t have much—“ The palm of Toji’s hand faces you to halt you from speaking more, making your nervousness dwell even further.

“For one, you should really consider locking your balcony door when y’re done using it.” There are not enough words to describe the mental facepalm you gave yourself. “If we wanted to run y’r pockets, we woulda done so earlier.” He casually admits to you. “But that’s not why we brought ya here, so he’ll explain it to ya.”

He? Wait, wait, we??

The other mugshot hits you like a flash before you hear the door open and close again. Of course, Toji isn’t the only one on the run right now. There was another guy with salmon-colored hair and tattoos. The other figure, now wearing a black tank tee and ripped black jeans, came from behind Toji. Your stomach drops to the floor when your eyes land on the prominent black tattoo on his nose — now seeing that he has way more on his face, shoulders, arms, and wrists. The scene from the diner replays until your brain can’t keep up. It was him, no doubt about it.

“Well, well. Did the sleeping beauty finally get their rest?” Sukuna Ryōmen, looks just as [if not more] dangerous as Toji. He stuffs his hand into the back of his jeans pocket. “Listen here, I’ll be asking you some questions, and I expect nothing but honest answers. Got that?”

You don’t know what possessed you to ask the question. You being scared shitless right now should’ve prevented you from doing so. And yet, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

It happened way too fast; your eyes couldn’t even process it happening. But one moment, the salmon-haired criminal was standing in front of you beside Toji. The next, you feel someone crouched behind you with the cold feeling of something barely piercing your skin. Your eyes widen, and you don’t dare move a single hair. Toji shakes his head at you, the smirk on his face still present. Now you can guess who had fun cutting up your PJs.

“I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” He says it so close to your ear that you could’ve nearly fainted. Sukuna then moves the knife to scrape the side of your neck. “And don’t you ever think you’re in a position to ask me questions. Use that college brain of yours, brat.”

You gulp — a risky move when you have a sharp object to your neck — and nod. Satisfied, the pink-haired man removes the knife from your proximity and stands right up. “At least you follow things quickly.” He says while walking back to where he stood prior. “Now, question one: do you know a kid named Kento Nanami?”

The mention of your boyfriend’s name hits you like whiplash. Kento? What do they want with him!?

“…Yes, I do.”

“Good. Next question,” You chew the inside of your lip before he asks you the following. “Where does he live?”

Your body almost shuts down when he says the final word. No. No, no, no! Absolutely not! “I can’t tell you that.”

“Tch, just when you were doin’ so good.” Sukuna sucks his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want you hurting him.”

He barks a laugh. “You don’t even know what we’ll do to him! Damn, talk about a loyal dog.”

The insult sparked a flame in you. It was a small one, but a flame nonetheless. “Why the hell do you want to know anyway? It’s not like he knows you any—Hrckk!”

“What the hell did I say about you asking questions, huh.” A hurried hand meets your throat, black nails digging into your skin as his grip gets unbearably tight. You attempt to keep a stern face despite choking for some air, but you’d be lying that the pain wasn’t getting to your head.

“Alright, Kuna, let ‘em go.” You almost forgot about Toji sitting on the chair until he spoke up. With a displeased click of the tongue, Sukuna releases you and throws you to the cold, hard floor. “For your information, princess, that kid does know us.”

You’re coughing up a storm, but you still listen. Your eyes are watery, and your throat pulses. “Hic…Ack, what—What are you talking about?”

Toji continues. “That little friend of y’rs is the reason why we were behind bars for three years. Fuckin’ kid saw us break into a house in his neighborhood and called the cops on us. For the longest time, we’ve thought about getting out of those damn cells and coming back to rip that lil’ fucker limb from limb. Maybe ransack his whole home and then some.”

“And now that we are out here,” Sukuna chimes in. “We plan on doing just that. We were sitting right behind you at the diner and heard the brown-haired chick say his name, meaning he had to be around this county. And when he heard that fucking square had a little girlfriend, who better to introduce ourselves and point us the way than you.”

So much information hits you all at once that you’re not given enough time to process it properly. Nanami called the cops on these guys? Where was that piece of information on the phone call!!? Three years ago, it must’ve happened before the start of freshman year. And then there’s the matter of these murders trying to kill him — the love of your life!

You immediately try to weigh your options: you could give them a fake address, but that would lead them back to you and have you killed instead. And Nanami doesn’t live at home right now; he’s on campus with you and everyone else. So, sharing these two his home address will just have his family killed in his place! Oh, you wouldn’t handle that guilt; you just couldn’t!!

“So, what’ll it be, little girl?” Toji’s voice snaps you from your rampant thoughts. “You can be a cute girlfriend and be loyal, and we’ll just kill you right here, right now. Or, you give us an address, we’ll put you back to sleep, and you’ll never see from us ever again.”

Those two options were far from what you wanted to do. You would never want to jeopardize your poor boyfriend’s life and those around him for being a model citizen, especially for these assholes! There had to be a way, something you could do!

“Please, don’t hurt him!” The ropes on your hands and feet have you shuffle to look at the two men from the dirty ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please just spare him!”

“No-can-do, brat.” Sukuna comes down to your level once more, yanking your shirt — or whatever’s left of it, your bra practically out for the whole world to see — to lift your upper body. “Nothing to ease a vengeful spirit than taking care of the problem, right? So do us a favor, will ya.”

Tears are fighting your control to fall, your body trembling. You’re scared, so so frightened. But most of all, you’ll do what you can to make sure your “golden boy” stands tall for you. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything you want, I’ll do it! So, please!!”

Sukuna opens his mouth to bite back, but no words come out. Actually, his expression resorts back to a neutral tone. He then turns to Toji, who looks at him with a quirked brow. There’s nothing but silence between the two, a silent conversation between the two killers that you have no choice but to stay quiet for. And you jerk when the two focus back on you. Sukuna then finally says something.

“Anything, huh?” It’s the worst when he sneers at you. Such a devious man.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tch. Fucking brat.” Sukuna sucks his teeth before he snatches your chin with a rough vigor, forcing your teary eyes to face him. And it doesn’t help that you now have a gun pointed at your temple. “This is your warning. You better do this right, or you’ll be the first to get a gift with your boyfriend’s head all minced up. Now, use that mouth. Properly.”

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d end up here. You stood on your knees and hands on the concrete floor, your mouth occupied with Sukuna’s cock, propelling your face to and fro to meet the base. Why the handgun to your head? According to the salmon-haired man, he said: “Try to fight, run, or bite our dicks off, then this whole mag is getting emptied.” So, you’re literally giving the fellatio of your life. And judging by the grunts coming from Sukuna, it seems you’re doing a decent job keeping him going.

As for the other one, Toji, his hands grabbing onto your asscheeks from beneath should answer that. “C’mon, baby, sit on my face. I don’t bite…” you can tell he has the biggest grin on his face saying that, has you hesitant to follow orders. Regardless, you gently sway your ass down to sit on his face. But impatience gets the best of him before he pulls you down himself, his nose abruptly hitting your clitoris. You jolt despite his hands keeping you on him, forced to feel his tongue and mouth indulging on your wet folds.

So there you sit, bare and nude, for the men to use you as they see fit. Whatever piece of your clothes were torn off you to be fully exposed for them. This is what you choose to do for the sake of your boyfriend: giving yourself off for the night.

Oh, if Shoko could see you now. Sucking off one of the exact murderers you two were talking about at the diner while the other eats you out? You know you’ll never hear the end of it from her if — by some miracle — she finds out! And you’ll hold onto that miracle for as long as you can.

“…Fuuuck, hnngh! It’s been a minute since I had my dick on something tight,” Sukuna comments while putting his free hand on your head. His thrusts increase to have your tongue bathe the underside of his dick, and he sighs at you choking when the tip suddenly hits your uvula. “Heh, that’s right. Keep those tears coming, pet…You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Fushiguro. This broad taste that fucking good—Ohhh shit, fucking shit…”

You can feel Toji’s lips curve into a smile from down under, he gives your labia and clit a slow and antagonizing lick before responding to his partner in crime. “Mmmm, man. It’s been a while since I had to do this. Crazy how this princess got with a square like that kid. Wonder if he makes ‘em feel good like this.” And then he returns to your clit to give it a harsh suck.

Your body continues to be used like a toy. Your jaw loosens to oblige Sukuna’s girth that’s currently hitting the back of your throat every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. His ruts dial-up, and you ball your fists with the constant oral abuse on your face. Drool runs down your chin with every shove of his length, practically choking you with his dick. And the commotion between your leaking vulva and Toji doesn’t go unnoticed either; motherfuker’s tongue is relentless, making sure every crevice and part of your pussy is familiar with him. And the sounds of him slurping your essence are so lewd, so erotic for your ears that you think they’re bound to explode on you.

“—Ahhh, damn, I’m gonna cum,” Oh, God. Your eyes open to look at Sukuna’s expression, nothing but pure enjoyment looking at your pitiful look. “You’re cute looking all pathetic taking my cock like this, whore—Mmmph!! Shiiiit, keep your head like that.” He grabs your head as his thrusts speed up to an irregular pace, your throat and face becoming numb. Your whimpers are muffled, and tears streak down your cheeks. His groans of pleasure fill the room, and before you know it, his load is released down to the depths of your throat. You’re stuck taking it, mewling on the shaft still in your mouth until he’s finished.

He removes you when he is, his cock slathered in your saliva and still rock hard. You gawk at it, amazed that you could fit it in your mouth. And you hate to admit this, but it has you wondering what Toji’s is like.

Speaking of, with a foggy mind, you peer down to see Toji finally done eating your cunt out. “Ya taste good, you know that.” He licks his lips provocately with a smile. You open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. “You ready fr’ me now?” He cocks his chin up, and you turn to see what he’s talking about, only to be met with the pinkish-red tip of his sprung erect cock. If you didn’t think you’d be able to have Sukuna’s in your mouth, you’re going to need a diety’s grace to see what you can do with Toji’s. “Heh, think I’m too big fr’ you? How the hell is Kento handling a piece like you?”

“S–Shut up, stop bringing him up!” You shout at him, tired of being reminded of the love of your life whom you’re betraying right now. All for his sake, but still…

He chuckles at your reaction. “Little girl got spark, huh. Fine then, be a doll and put it in yourself.”

Cold sweat slides from your brow. Me? I’ve gotta put that shit in on my own!? But you have to. You know you do. So, with anxiousness pooling in your stomach, you bring your ass up and use your hand to align his cock to your wet cunt.

It takes a lot of mental motivation for you to continue, but slowly and surely, you push the folds of your cunt onto his glans. The pain you experience makes it excruciating to bear, but with steady breaths, you push the tip in with every exhale. And when it finally enters your vulva, a gasp erupts from your puffy lips and a hiss from the man with the scarred lip. “Mmmm, slow down, baby, slow it down…” That was probably the only words he’s ever said that you could trust, so you anchor your ass down, taking in every inch of his length with his hands guiding your ass down. When you reach the base, you give yourself a few seconds to adjust to his girth within your velvety walls. “Fuck, ya feel so nice and tight, princess.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna walks from behind. “Can’t wait for me to have a go.” You couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of that sentence because the salmon-haired one kicked your back. You are now mounted on Toji completely, the two of you facing each other while Sukuna crouches behind your ass. “Get ready, I’m putting it in.”

“Huh?” Wait, both at the same time!? “Ho–Hold on, I’ve never done it in my ass bef—“

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me; guess I’ll be the first then,” he shuts down your argument and then bends down to use his fingers and spit to ease your asshole. It feels so gross and repulsive that you could puke right now. Not that it would matter to Sukuna because he’s already set on doing it — his fore and middle finger pushing in and out of your anus. When he feels you’ve loosened up, he’ll remove his digits and substitute them with his cock.

And he doesn’t warn you either, fucking bastard; he nudges his dick in his own countdown with no regard to how you’re feeling. Gripping onto the raven-haired man’s black shirt, Sukuna’s cock puts you through pain worth traumatizing, evoking screams that scratch your throat until he gets the whole thing in your ass. Nanami would never put you through this much pain. Never!

“Aww, y’re making the pretty girl cry,” Toji teases condescendingly, chuckling at the sight of you burying your head in his chest to shield the embarrassment.

Sukuna hums while grinding his hips to your ass, a tiny bit of blood painting his shaft. “Hmph, good, makes my enjoyment worthwhile. Now,” you shriek with the sudden snap of his hips to your ass. “Let’s get this show started.”

When Sukuna moves, Toji follows right after, and you’re left to fend for yourself in this unsteady tempo from both your holes. You start seeing stars from the unusual stimulation, and your mind and vision become so blurry that it hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to try and concentrate on one dick at a time! One is currently scraping the wells of your walls in a way that your slit clenches around him, while the other churns your insides from the back that almost takes your breath away. More drool and tears seep into the black shirt you use to disguise yourself from them. This shit is already humiliating as is!

“C’mon now, baby. Show me that pretty face of y’rs.” Of course, Toji uses one hand to nudge your head to look at him. Your face is such a wet and hot mess, the sweat on your body making you sticky. The attempt to make sentences is beyond you, relying on moans and choked sobs to express your disorganized emotions. “There ya are. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Toji then takes your plump lips with his, his hand snaking to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was one thing letting them use your cunt and ass as they see fit; now, they dare to kiss you in a time like this. Oh, this is the absolute worst! How can you speak to Nanami ever again after this!? These lips are now sullied by the lips and cock of other men. You can’t ever go back and say that you were his, and it’s because of these assholes!!

…And what’s worse, you were starting to find enjoyment in what you were doing, sinking into Toji’s kiss and moaning into his scarred lips.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Damn, this slut is so fucking tight.” Sukuna watches your back glisten in the light while your ass quaked under his unstable momentum. He sneers before slapping your asscheek, resulting in a rushed moan and a twitch from your pussy. Toji breaks the kiss. “Hey, keep doing that. Think they like it.”

With devilish glee, the tattooed other doesn’t hold back. He gives you another smack to the ass, and more loud purrs and shrieks fill the space between you three. Fast ruts to your soaping slit and ass coincide with the strikes to your butt, catching you off guard and leaving a stinging sensation every time.

It’s apparent now that your hips start to move on their own, riding out your own high while preparing for your orgasm that’s climbing up. And the raven-haired man notices as he puts your hand on your aching buttcheeks. “Goin somewhere, dollface?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me come already!! “—Ahhnn, ooohhhh!! I’m about to cummm—I’m gonna break—Eeyahhh!!!

“That so?” You want to wipe that smirk off his stupid, dumb, handsome face. “Then go ahead and get dirty, princess. Ring us up.”

Your arousal staggers up when both of their thrusts fall into a unity, the tender spots of your gummy walls from your ass and cunt being hit and abused prompt more ecstatic moans and your head pounding with every jab. Almost there, almost! Please, please, I want it!! And you are finally given what you want; your release crashes into you in a hard swoop, the shocks crawling up your body while your holes contract around both men’s cocks. Your brain falls into an erotic trance; you only care about the euphoric sensations tingling around your body. Dizziness overtakes you, and your head descends back on Toji’s chest.

“Hmph, you really a pathetic pet.” Sukuna grinds his pelvis into your sensitive ass. The aftershocks from your release still make your body react to their movements. “Chasing for your own orgasm, huh. We outta fuck that selfishness right out of you, damn brat…”

You don’t say anything — more like you don’t have the energy to. Your ass and chasm are too stuffed to keep your mind active, and your eyelids feel too heavy to keep up. It probably was from all that crying and screaming. All you want to do is go back to sleep in your bed at your cozy apartment. But that must be asking for too much. Just please end this nightmare…

Kenty…Please forgive me, I’m so sorry….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can’t remember how sleep found you that night. But your eyes open to the ray of sunshine that peaks through the binds of your bedroom. Wait, my bedroom!?

You shoot up from your bed, the soft comforter and sheets peeling off your skin, and the cool air from the air conditioning welcomes you back to your personal space. Everything untouched, everything where it’s supposed to be — where you’re supposed to be.

A deep breath is the first thing you do when you wake up, following a long exhale. Was I dreaming? You would’ve accepted that delusion had you not looked down to realize that your figure was covered with one of your oversized shirts, remembering that your old pajamas were cut and torn up. Flashes of last night return to haunt you, and shivers travel down your spine from realizing what transpired at those ungodly hours. You quickly check your sheets for any stains — Thank God, none. Funny how a pair of serial killing assholes have the decency to clean up your body.

And then a sudden feeling of dread crawls up after hearing your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You hurry to check the screen to find out it was a text message from Nanami. It’s a Saturday, 9 a.m. He’d usually be sleeping in until noon. Curious, you unlock your phone to check what your boyfriend is texting you about.

Recent Message from: ♡ my bby nanamiii ♡

Hey, Y/n. Hope you slept well and everything’s okay. I’m coming from Geto’s place after picking up Haibara, who is going through the worst hangover right now. He said he wants to see you and that you make the best meals for his hangovers. I don’t want to intrude if you’re not up for guests, so please tell me so I can take him somewhere else. But otherwise, we’ll be there at around 30-45 mins. Let’s just relax this weekend, okay?

Reading the text as you fall in love with him all over again. After what you’ve gone through, knowing that he’s safe and sound from any trouble, all you want right now is to be around him and hold him close. To be with him and forget about everything that’s happened.

You send a heartwarming reply saying you’ll be waiting for the two of them. Then, you remove yourself from the bed and stretch out your fatigued muscles. Ugh, I should probably shower before Nananmi gets here…

However, before you lift your shirt and head for the bathroom, you notice a glass of water and a bag full of pills. Huh…I definitely didn’t have that there when I went to sleep before I was taken. And next to the glass was a folded piece of paper. Curiosity got the best of you this morning as you picked up the material to read its contents.

And this is where you knew your life was changing, for better or worse. Your legs give out, making you fall to your knees with a shaky breath, the hairs of your body standing, and your heart on the verge of leaping out of your mouth. What you read crushed your whole being, leaving you cold in this world — worse than the autumn breeze.

Yo, thanks for the great time last night. Keep that up, and your pretty boytoy will keep standing. Here’s water and birth control, and keep that bag safe. Wouldn’t wanna end up losing it for the next time we fuck you dumb. See ya later, pet.

SR + TF

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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falling-endlessly · 3 months

Text

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards, like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it.

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him. In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchantée, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion.

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchantée, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x ofc #alastor x original female character #hell #hazbin alastor #alastor being a menace #alastor being alastor

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

Text

(18+) fem!reader

bucky barnes is the kind of guy to fuck up into you during cowgirl, not because he's impatient, but because he simply wants to feel more of you.

just him lying back down on the mattress, you straddling his crotch, cock snuggly wedged into you - his hands digging into the plush of your thighs. he'd have to restrain himself, the squish of your skin pooling around his fingers being the main distraction. he'd look up at you as you slowly wind over him, brows knitted, eyes closed, lips bitten, tits swaying - the lewdest of images as you gently bounce.

your hands placed firmly on his stomach isn't enough. he wants to feel you closer - he wants your chest sandwiched against his, wants his lips on yours. his cock inside of you, not enough to satiate the need.

he'd trail his hands up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat. he wouldn't squeeze, no. just lightly pulling you down to him, silently guiding you to hover over him. your weight anchored on your hands either side of him.

bucky would stabilise you, keeping you balanced - one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours. he'd swallow your gentle moans, your soft, sweet whines vibrating against his tongue.

he'd bend at the knee and testingly nudge up into you, cock bumping into your pussy so nicely. the new angle ripping the most bliss-filled cry from the pits of your stomach. he'd smile against your lips, doing it again. and again. just to hear that same sultry noise from you.

he would part from your lips, trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind. he'd wrap his lips around your perk nipples, tongue leisurely flicking over the bundle of sensitive nerves. dick stroking up into you unrushed.

his hands would leave the placement around your mid back, instead moving downwards - one metal, one fleshed hand slowly dragging over your skin. bucky's hands would rest on the dips of your waist, guiding you over his cock with very little manoeuvring, gently pushing your hips down onto him. the slow roll of his hips meeting you in the middle.

lips back on yours, muffling loving words into your skin. telling you that you're his sweet, special girl.

#BRAINROT GOING CRAZY RN #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky smut

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mphountitled · 6 months

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

→ Mingyu x Fem!reader

→ Summary: "If you wanted me to get you pregnant so bad, all you had to was ask."

→ Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Businessman au, Humour, Slight!Body Dysmorphia, Insecurities, Workaholic!Reader, Shy!Reader, Slight Male Manipulation, Slight!Angst, Smut (+18), Semi!Public Sex, Slight Coercion, Needy!Mingyu, He Whimpers, Pervy!Mingyu, Corruption Kink, Desperate Sex, Massive Breeding kink, Mingyu has a choking kink, and a Praise kink, Slight!Daddy Kink, Unprotected Sex

Mingyu likes getting choked, pls argue with the wall

The dollop of heat in your stomach steadily grew into a pool of molten lava throughout the duration of the award ceremony. The entire televised event was supposed to be in celebration of your husband and the diligence he has extended to the company for all of 2 decades.

Instead, most of the evening is spent nursing your anxiety with a flute of champagne, while you attempt to not sweat through your very expensive makeup under the heat of multiple strobe lights.

Mingyu, sitting at the table beside you serves as your only anchor, keeping your feet planted firmly to the ground while the rest of the table exchange pleasantries involving baby pictures and ultrasounds.

The dread in your stomach only multiplies.

You've been made privy to how they speak about you and your husband behind gloved hands in hushed whispers. A husband who has had to be burdened with a wife whose internal clock was no match for the importance of a career. Perhaps they thought you were too self important and too driven. Perhaps that explains why you were always invited to events out of courtesy and never out of true interest. Perhaps-

"Stop that." Mingyu's voice travels to your ear at a low and conspiratorial baritone while the rest of wives and husband at the table talk animatedly.

"Stop what?" You ask while Mingyu draws your attention to his hand now resting on your thigh underneath the table.

"Don't play with me. I can tell when you're overthinking," He says, letting his palm brush over the sequins of your pitch black dress. It matched his all black suit to rude perfection, truly making you believe you were the best dressed couple in the whole event. "If you're gonna be thinking about something, I'd rather it be the likelihood of me eating you out in this dress after we're done."

His words succeed in dragging your thoughts away from the happy couples and their happy families and you meet his eyes and the amusement swimming within them.

"Is sex really all you think about-"

Mingyu answers your question by suddenly grabbing a hold of your hand and forcing your palm over his lap until your palm is lightly grazing the bulge forming there.

"Let's hope this ends soon so we can get the fuck out of here." The rest of the event was spent with you, staring down at the table in a mindless, lustful daze while Mingyu still guided your palm up and down the bulge in his pants. It was conspicuous enough for it to look like his hand was simply resting atop yours, if anyone really got particularly nosy. Luckily, everyone else was too drunk on overpriced soju to recognize Mingyu's forced self pleasuring while he took casual little sips from his glass intermittently.

You were both relieved once it was time to go home.

This inability to adapt into the upper echelons of housewife society had not bothered you initially and it certainly did not bother your husband. In fact, someone as aloof and optimistic as Mingyu was seldom concerned with the matters of holding face for a backwards capitalistic society.

"If we weren't rich I thoroughly believe we would be those 'eat the rich' people." Mingyu announces as he trails into the bathroom behind you. The overhead lights bathe the bathroom's onyx accents in a dim light, successfully relaxing you and easing the bundle of knots that had built up in your shoulders.

Mingyu seems equally pleased to be back home, kicking off his Abercrombie loafers and watching them fly into a corner while he undoes the buttons of his jet black dress shirt. His tall frame is hunched over as he wraps his arms around your stomach, allowing you to lead him to the bathroom sinks with heavy footsteps like a 187 centimetre baby.

You, of course, do not object when he pushes his head into the space between your neck and shoulder as you begin to brush your teeth. If the award ceremony was as draining for him as it was for you, then this truly is the first moment he is able to let himself go the entire day.

"I think we can still be those 'eat the rich' people because it's not like we're rich by choice, right?" Seeing your husband constantly run the risk of impending communism would be amusing, were it not for the sour taste still present in your mouth from the work event Mingyu had just taken you too.

"At least you got to watch me in my element-" He grumbles against your skin before begrudgingly peeling himself off of you to make his way to his side of the bathroom,

"Ugh," Mingyu groans with exaggeration as he commences with his skin care, "You literally got to watch your sexy and talented husband accept a corporate award in a room full of people. I'm so jealous of you,"

"Ugh, I know!" You nod back, "Jihoon looked so good on that podium. Remind me to send him a message later." You evade Mingyu's deadpan look through the oval shaped mirror as you continue to brush.

"On a serious note, Gyu, I'm glad you had fun while I was being forced to entertain those industry housewives." You momentarily stop your brushing, "I'm thoroughly overwhelmed by ultrasounds!" You exclaim frustratedly through a gurgle of toothpaste. The very thought of those women shot your blood pressure to hell.

Their idealistic lives and their idealistic vaginas that could somehow push out a steady stream of babies before snapping back as if nothing ever happened. Business as usual.

Meanwhile, your body threw a tantrum the very second you even had a vague thought of eating something outside the bounds of your diet.

Mingyu adored every part of you - you know this - but that nauseating feeling of inadequacy always crept up on you in moments of weakness.

You sigh, "I think those women have magical vaginas."

"Hey." Mingyu says, patting down his face, "All women have magical vaginas but you especially."

You swiftly ignore him and continue your furious brushing as you say, "Every single day it's 'This one is pregnant!' 'This one wants to get pregnant,' 'This one is trying to get pregnant!'" You rant, completely oblivious to the way Mingyu watches you through the mirror as you continue.

"'I'm not quite sure when it became socially accessible for couples to just air out their breeding kinks to the public-" an ungentlemanly snort escapes through Mingyu's mouth and he pauses to shake his head and compose himself.

"I'm ultra-sounded out!" You exclaim, finally bending over to spit out a wad of toothpaste. In your periphery, Mingyu watches you with that passive look of contentment and unwavering adoration that almost never seems to leave his face in your presence.

Despite his overly humorous tendencies at times, Mingyu also harboured the habit of reading in between the lines - he had to, not only for his job but for his romantic life as well. Being blessed with a shy partner meant Mingyu had to dig just a little deeper past the veneer of everything you say, to get just a little closer to what you actually meant.

Your shyness and stoicism is what initially drew him to you in the first place. Always beating around the proverbial bush to protect your most sacred dignity and independence. It was always a struggle for Mingyu but it turned him on way too easily to picture his put-together, independent little wife needing him in a way she might not even know.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask quietly, lifting your head before reigning your braids into a ponytail.

"How am I looking at you?" Mingyu asks in a voice way too husky to harbour any sense of professionalism.

"Are you seriously turned on right now?" There is no use in denying it because Mingyu knew you could read him like an open book. There's a soberness that hits him when he's turned on.

He jokes less than usual and assumes a more… slutty disposition that neither him nor you have ever been able to tame. Mingyu rubs the excess cream into his hands before leaning against the marble countertops. He watches you with a small, dangerous smirk that sends a flurry of butterflies swimming the pits of your stomach.

"If you wanted me to get you pregnant so badly, all you had to do was ask." His sentence bulldozes through the silence, steals the air right out of your lungs and nearly sweeps your feet out from underneath you. The world practically spins for a second but you grapple desperately onto your sensibilities for your sensibilities are one of the very few things you can arm yourself against your husband's slutty seduction.

"I think I could've squeezed you into my busy schedule," He chuckles lightly before stepping forward.

Almost automatically you step backwards, which evidently gets Mingyu way too excited. He raises his eyebrows with a slight before he's closing the distance between the two of you with 2 wide strides.

The light pouring down from the ceiling suddenly feels too warm, and the air feels like you've teleported to a crowded bazaar in the centre of the desert. You refuse to make eye contact with Mingyu, looming over you. You only splay a hand against his chest as you attempt to chuckle.

"You're being ridiculous." You say, "If you need to cum so bad, use your hand."

"Nah," He shakes his head without ever breaking eye contact, "That would be a waste, wouldn't it?" Mingyu's eyes frantically search your features for the same traces of lust so shamelessly displayed across his own visage. His lips are parted with his quiet breathing. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

It felt like a betrayal on everything you held dear, admitting that the idea of him cumming inside you with the purpose of getting you pregnant turned you on. It felt like a betrayal on your career and your goals and aspirations.

However, Mingyu's sensibilities are completely clouded by unshakeable lust. He is so easily stimulated by every single thing about you, the softness of your body, the familiarity of your scent and the mental image of seeing you actually pregnant with his child. It has him pushing you further against the bathroom wall until the coolness of the stone sank steadily through your night dress.

Mingyu's hand immediately rips the offending article of clothing, pushing your night dress up slowly and feeling his own cock ache at how you silently comply.

"It's really easy, baby. I just need you to tell me you want me to cum in that little pussy of yours and I'll do it. Just wanna…" Mingyu's incoherence during states of exceptional lust always succeeded in making you absolutely wet. He became an insatiable, talkative and blubbering mess.

"...Just wanna make you happy," His breathing picks up almost as easily as yours, and inside himself, Mingyu releases a shotgun prayer that you want this just as bad as he does. He hopes your mind has been flooded with the exact same fantasies of him, sliding his bare cock into your soaking cunt. Him ramming into you and finishing inside of you and-

"Ah- fuck," He hisses, unable to get your panties down all the way before he's letting his fingers drift across your slippery folds. "Look at how wet you are, baby. You really do want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, don't you?"

Mingyu's cock twitches uncomfortably in his pants while he drifts his fingers over your puffy clit, pulling a strangled moan from your throat.

"Feels good, baby?" He whimpers before slotting his hips between your legs. Mingyu's breath is warm against the side of your face as he continues to rub infuriating circles on your clit. "I can make you feel even better baby… if you let me fuck you, I can make us both feel good, yeah?" He's a whining mess - you both are as your hips move in tandem against his hands.

"Fuck, baby I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me I can throw away the condoms, that I can cum inside you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy," Your slip-up would've gone perfectly unnoticed, were it not for the heavy, almost oppressive silence between the two of you in the bathroom. Mingyu's ears perk up like a puppy that had just heard his favorite word, and he pulls himself away to gaze deeply into your eyes with adoration and awe. Mingyu's pink lips hang open as he scrambles back up to his height. He cups your cheeks with both hands, and you lean into his warm calluses as his thumbs rub gentle circles on your cheek.

The kiss he leaves on your nose is delicate and romantic.

The perfect calm before the proverbial storm.

Mingyu then nods slowly as he says, "Well now I'm definitely going to fuck you," the conviction and the bass in his voice urges a pathetic whimper through your lips and you're left to comply limply as Mingyu places a palm on your exposed thigh. He lifts you up until your leg is locked firmly around his hip and he's almost perfectly slotted between your bare legs. The feeling of having him so close to you, in such a starkly intimate position leaves you both momentarily speechless and you're watching each other as if terrified of breaking this spell of lust.

Mingyu is deliberate in his actions as he moves his hand to pull his cock out of his pants, all without breaking eye contact.

"Don't play with me like this, baby," it's the most serious he has ever been, and your back is almost moulded to the wall as Mingyu lines the tip of his aching cock to your dripping cunt. "I was literally so close to cumming in my pants, so if you're playing with me right now-"

"Mingyu," your voice is airy as you push your hips forward, taking initiative, as you always did, until the head of his cock was prodding your entrance. He shivers greatly before stealing a glance down at his cock entering you so swiftly, before he gazes deep into your eyes once more.

"If you want me…" Mingyu whispers as he fully sheathes his cock inside you, overcome by yet another violent shiver. "Baby, you have me."

The first thrust is nearly cataclysmic and he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot. Seeing him so incredibly turned on, so ready to burst at the seams has your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper and deeper until his gigantic cock was stretching your cunt to what felt like its limits. That second thrust completely drains him of all his composure and soon Mingyu's fucking you relentlessy into the wall as if he both hated you and loved you and did not know which was which.

Your mouth hangs open as you watch him absolutely ravage you. His dark eyes are hooded with lust and he's babbling his incoherent sentences while his long, messy hair brushes over his cheeks. He is absolutely fargone as he thrusts his hips into you, while his other hand is stationed against the wall above you. "Thank you for letting me do this, baby," he damn near whimpers as he pushes himself harder and faster into you, unable to stop the neediness from sinking into his tone. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"You're doing so well baby" You whisper, causing his hips to stutter against yours while a pained moan releases itself from your throat.

Your mouth is still hanging open and Mingyu takes the opportunity to dip down and crash his lips onto yours. The kiss is furious and desperate and you realise this is exactly what you love about him. You appreciate how easy it is to please him, how unashamed Mingyu is of displaying his emotions. He is loud and passionate and it drives you absolutely insane.

"Fuck-I'm close," He breathes, as he peppers kisses along your face. His hand squeezes desperately at your breasts as he pants in your ear. "Tell me to cum inside you- pleasepleaseplease,"

You are operating purely on the lust distributed from Mingyu's incessant whining and whimpering until an idea strikes you so vividly you almost wonder why you had not done this before.

In between your feverish panting and Mingyu's ravaging motions, you delve your head into his hair before peeling his face away from you. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion before you slither your hand down to lock your palm around the his throat. Your hand doesn't fully enclose his neck but you succeed in adding pressure, causing the man before you to roll his eyes into the back of his skull in absolutely ecstasy-

"Oh fuck-I'm cumming-" his body spasms before you in a euphoric daze, quickly triggering your own orgasm as you continue to choke him and move your hips in tandem with his cock.

"Fuck, oh fuck!" He swears as he clamps his hand around your thigh as if begging to spread you wider, to push in deeper until he's filling you up completely with his load. It's messy and so wildly intimate, you're both lost in the crevices of your own respective pleasure. How anyone could make someone feel as completed as you two currently feel is so unimaginable, you both struggle to find the words. Mingyu is a panting mess above you while you attempt to ease your runway heart.

It strikes you then that you're perhaps afraid, now that the lust has cleared that the post nut clarity might rid him of his earlier statements.

All you do is watch as he places another kiss on the tip of your nose before easing his cock out of you.

"I'll run out to buy Plan B tomorrow. You don't have to -"

He shushes you almost immediately as he pads over the bathroom sink. Mingyu hums softly as he ruffles through the medicine cabinet until he finds what he's looking for. All you can do is watch as he dumps the entire contents of your birth control pills down the toilet. He never breaks eye contact, only maintaining a wide slightly manic smile.

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sprout-fics · 11 months

Note

Werewolf König holding you down -or up- by your hips and just fucking you like an absolute fleshlight while he’s lost in the moon sauce. Send tweet

The monster Konig thot energy has been so strong recently here what-

(Werewolf sex, Mentions of breeding, Size difference, Werewolf dick, Possessiveness, Reader getting her shop wrecked)

“K-König, g-gentle-”

It’s a plea gasped against the darkness, one that echoes softly into the forest, muffled by the sounds of the werewolf above you, bent over you, pressing you into the damp leaves and soft soil. His massive frame above you brackets you in on all sides, one bulging forearm braced well above your head, the other securing your hips flush to his, dragging you back with every brutal, snapping thrust that has him burying himself deep inside you.

König huffs in your ear, doesn’t respond to your plea. Yet his hips do slow from their vigorous, powerful thrusting to something mildly resembling gentleness. König still doesn’t try to keep himself from drilling the tip of his monstrous shaft against the curve of your womb, rolling his hips in a dizzying onslaught that has fire brimming in your blood. Your fingers curl into the soil in a vain attempt to ground yourself, face pressed nearly flat against the forest floor, ass hauled high in the air, skirt shoved up around your waist where it bunches under his claws.

Gods, you must look a mess.

Your eyes are glassy with pleasure, with the intoxicating, delicious drag of his girth from your velvety walls, clinging to him with every retreat. The sensation alone is enough to make you shudder, make a consuming heat pool low below your belly. It fissures outwards, tracing along every nerve ending, rendering you boneless against him as he maneuvers you to his whim. With every roll of his hips to meet yours there’s a wrecked rush of air that exhales past your swollen lips, teethed raw by your vain attempts to contain your moans. Drool pools at the corner of your mouth, brow scrunched in suffocating pleasure as the monster above you drives into you with wild abandon.

There’s a whine, broken and pleading that tears at your throat, his warm breath fogging your nape, your shoulder, where he has to restrain himself from seizing your tender flesh between his teeth. Anything to satiate the beast inside of him, to tame the growling, rampant fever that stalks in his bones with the feral urge to claim, to breed.

There’s a pause for a moment as the beast growls into your ear, and the sound alone has you whimper, pliant and submissive under him like a pup. You don’t dare move, knowing König will only press you back where he wants you, cave to his desire to have you how he wants you. You go willingly, surrender to him and the monster coiled within his frame. The moon above you both hangs yellow and full, gleaming like the untamed glint in the eyes of your strange lover.

König withdraws completely, and the loss of complete and utter fullness is so startling that you whine, try and press back to chase him. Yet the weight across your shoulders vanishes, and instead two massive paws come to grasp below your hips. With his terrifying strength König lifts you, has you fall back against his broad, hairy chest with a shuddering gasp. Your hands fall to grasp the fur on his arms, anchoring yourself even as the world spins around you, the cool mist a balm to your feverish, sweaty skin.

Yet then you feel the tip of him catch against your stretched entrance, and there’s little warning before Konig lowers you down.

The moan that ruptures from your chest cracks your voice, cunt fluttering helplessly around his girth, stretching you wide around him. It isn’t long before König resumes his previous pace, battering against you as skin meets skin, as every thrust has a cracked cry bubble up inside you.

“You are mine.” He growls in your ear, teeth skimming dangerously over the exposed flesh of your shoulder, threatening to add to the litany of marks there from his previous claims. You grasp at him, drag him closer as the teeth press down into the skin. “Nobody else.”

“My mate. Mine.”

#werewolf! König #konig smut #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x reader #This is so filthy I swear-#thursday night thots

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peachesofteal · 1 month

Text

Simple Math / Part Twelve

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, smut. Handjob, praise kink, Simon talks you through it. Feelings of fear and anxiety, self doubt, self consciousness. Small panic attack. Comfort. Domestic slice of life. Penny lore. POV switch. A glimmer of morally grey. One step forward, two steps back.

You almost forget where you are.

Almost.

The struggle is brief, trying to acclimatize to the changes, dark green sheets pooling around you, emerald tones rich and ambient, the sage green comforter pulled up over your shoulders.

You almost forget, but Simon’s bulk is nearly suffocating, and you’re pushed up against Johnny, crowded between two immovable objects, two sky high walls.

He’s got you tucked into his chest, hand pressed firm against your belly, leg thrown over yours. Your hand still rests on Johnny, covered by his own, and you blink blearily at the bolts of morning light streaming in through the windows.

“Go back to sleep.” Simon’s mumbling right over your ear, ghost of his breath sending goosebumps down your arms. “It’s early.” He snuggles closer, shoulders curled over yours like a blanket, blazing heat bleeding from him to you… everywhere. His cock throbs against your ass, folded up against his stomach, nestled against your skin. Your mouth goes dry when you allow yourself to focus, to look, to feel, thighs squeezing together, a lust filled whine building in the back of your throat.

This is new.

You don’t do this… your mind, your body, has always been trapped in a fight or flight, survival mode taking over your core needs and instincts, leaving no room for desire, or affection.

But this... this is different. This is safe.

Your hand drifts lower on Johnny’s stomach. He’s shirtless, satin skin soft under your touch, and it’s almost on instinct when you settle your palm under his navel, a safe distance away from his sutures and graft, hovering north of the elastic in his sweatpants. He’s hard beneath them, outline mouthwatering in the quiet morning, and you lick your lips.

What are you doing?

Simon’s fingers idly stroke that spot on your waist, where your hips fold into the space beneath your ribcage, swirling his touch down your belly and around, steady and safe, an anchor in turbulent seas. Your fingers dip beneath the band, mindful of his hip, sliding through curls, just barely grazing the root of Johnny’s cock.

What’re you doing?

Are you really doing this?

You haven’t touched, or been touched, in ages. It’s foreign, and terrifying, and doubt clouds your head, anxiety rocketing through your veins to your heart, where it triple beats.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothes, sliding a hand over yours, guiding you to where he curls his fingers and yours around the base, tightening his grip into a squeeze.

“I-“

“Want to touch him? Like this?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, scratchy and gritted against your ear. You’re breathing in time, chests rising and falling together, and you nod hastily, too afraid to lose the scrap of courage that keeps trying to flicker out.

“Y-yeah.” You whisper. You do want to, you want to so badly.

Johnny stirs. He tugs at his pants, not quite awake, trying to pull them down, and Simon helps silently, carefully tucking the elastic lower as to not put pressure on his injuries. He blinks sleepily, confused, before finding your face, impish smile spreading across his cheeks, eyes drifting shut again. He’s not wearing anything beneath them, his thick, uncut cock bobbing free at his partner’s urging, and you gasp at the sight. He’s already flushed, bead of pre-come glistening from the tip, and you hesitantly reach for it, Simon’s hand still covering yours.

“Need to start slow.” Simon coaches, both of your hands moving from root to tip together, squeezing at the base when he encourages you to do so. “Don’t want him tensing up, straining his injuries. Nice and- good bunny, just like that.” His cock is blaring hot in your palm, and you work him gently at Simon’s urging, watching his face twitch and eyebrows creasing, bottom lip tugged underneath his top teeth.

“Fuckin- hell-“ He hisses, hips trying to jerk upward.

“Relax.” Simon instructs, stilling him. You keep up the movement, iridescent spend slicking your strokes, slippery sounds filling the room.

“Ach.” Johnny moans, and you throb, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. Simon coos at him.

“Lucky boy, havin’ our bunny take care of you.”

“A-aye.” His fingers tighten in the sheets, eyes still slammed shut, and Simon squeezes your hip.

“You can go a little harder, like this.” He increases the rhythm, tightening his grip over yours, and your hips tilt back, pressing into the hardness settled against your cheeks, pressure returned with a flex of his own. “That’s it, that’s what he likes. Good girl.”

“Si.” His voice breaks. “P-please… d-d-“ He’s unable to get his words free, gasping for air like he’s just gone out for a run, haggard draw of his lungs stretched to the limit as you hold your own.

“I know sweet boy, you’re so backed up, I know. We’ll fix it.” You think you’re going to explode between them, heat and pressure and atmosphere all bearing down on your bones, grinding them to dust inside your skin. You’re not even sure you’re in your own body in this moment, watching from afar, mystified and impressed at your boldness, your courage, your abandonment of the wall you've so steadily remained perched on. “Breathe, Johnny.” Simon reminds him steadily.

The girl in the mirror is nowhere to be found. It’s just you, and Johnny, and Simon, together.

“You’re doing so well.” Simon hums. “Makin’ our boy feel good, what a good little bunny.” Jesus christ. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head, thighs like a vice, squeezing together so tight, desperate for friction against your clit. Your hips are rocking on their own now, small, micromovements pushing you into Simon again and again, Johnny whimpering and crying as the two of you stroke him harder and faster.

“Will you show our bunny how much of a mess you make, Johnny? Gonna come all over our fingers?” Simon pushes him harder, his legs twitching against yours, and Johnny gasps like he’s in pain, nearly crying, on the edge of a precipice.

“Ah, ah- ‘m gonna-“ He explodes in your hands, coating your fingers with creamy spend, rivers of it running down your fist, strokes slowing to a stop as he pants and shudders.

“Oh there it is- good boy, so good.” He tugs until Johnny is empty, and then raises your hand to his mouth, lips closing around your fingers to lick them clean.

You feel faint. Johnny smiles lazily. “Well, good mornin’ to ye too, bun.”

“I-“ What are you going to say? You don’t know what came over you? Sorry? Good morning? Everything evaporates on your tongue, happiness burning to ash.

“You alright?” Simon asks, rubbing your hip. Still, no words come. All you can do is stare at him. “Bunny? Hey.” He shifts, and Johnny tries to sit up, bliss morphing into concern.

“Pretty girl.” He holds your hand, thumb rubbing against your knuckles, and you try to remind yourself to breathe.

What are you doing?

“Everything’s okay.” Simon is on his knees now, dipped down in front of you, cradling your jaw. “You’re okay, bun. Just breathe for us.” He rubs your back, and Johnny keeps his fingers curled against your pulse point. They steady you, anchor you, and you surface again, free from the wave of black water trying to drag you down.

“S-sorry.” You hiss, chest less tight. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“Lay back.” Simon urges. “I’m going to go get a towel to clean up, stay here.” You nod, cuddling close, your head resting on Johnny’s chest, his touch slow on the back of your neck.

“Ye’re with us, bunny. Ye’re safe.” You close your eyes with a whisper.

“I know.”

The unsteady peace of the morning doesn't last very long. It’s not too soon after Simon gets Johnny cleaned up that Penny is awake, baby monitor sparking to life, dragging him from the other side of the bed and down the hall.

“How did ye sleep?” Johnny murmurs, still holding you close.

“Good. Great, actually. How are you uh, feeling?”

“Okay. Hip is throbbin’ but I imagine it’ll always be like that from now on.”

“It will get better. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Come here.” You inch closer, bringing your faces together and he kisses you, soft and delicate in the early glow of the day. “Dinnae like ye being so far away. Need ye close. Helps me feel better.”

“You’re such a brat.” You tease, but can’t help giving him another kiss, basking in his warmth. He pushes back against you, flushed. Tan skin warmed bronze and rubicund on his cheeks, almost pink. His eyes are a brighter shade of blue, clear like Caribbean waters, lips swollen, and bee stung. He looks… so fucking hot. Like Hercules, a hero, tired after battle.

“You sound like Si.” His hand lingers along the curve of your hip, inciting the riotous butterflies into a flurry, heat simmering in your belly. “I like these.”

“My sweatpants?”

“Aye. They fit ye well.” He peeks over, and you giggle despite yourself. He makes it so easy, to feel weightless, free, smiling as handsome as ever, long strands of mohawk falling into his eyes.

“Think you need a haircut.”

“I do. Si usually does it, but I think he’ll be nominatin’ ye this time around.”

“I can’t cut hair!”

“Ach, ‘ts not that hard. Ye just trim a little off the ends and be done wit’ it.” You roll your eyes, and the door cracks open, revealing Simon and Penny, sippy cup in hand.

“See? He’s right there.” He hums, holding her steady, her arms already reaching for where Johnny waits. “Da’s right here.”

“My wee lamb.” He cuddles her into his good side, kissing and cooing, letting her bounce on the bed. “Hey princess. Ye have a good breakfast?”

“She’s on another banana kick.” Simon sighs, kissing his forehead, and then turning to you. “Okay?” He checks in, focused and concerned, and you nod.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Forgot to ask how you slept…” He eyes the bed.

“Good, yeah. I… slept really well.”

“Guess ye’ll just have to sleep in here for now on.” Johnny quips, fingers preoccupied by being dragged towards Penny’s mouth. Sleep in here for now on? Like, with them?

Pen coos, tipping towards you with a chubby little smile. “Bunny.” She babbles, fingers straining.

Your hand finds hers, holding on to keep her upright. “Good morning to you too, little miss. Sorry I neglected you.” You sign ‘good morning’, one of the few you know from work, and she claps, thrilled. Simon beams.

“Yes, she’s terribly neglected.” He sits at Johnny’s side, mindlessly stroking his leg, massaging and working the muscle in his calf. “How do we feel about getting you downstairs?” He nods, and you roll over, sliding off the bed to lumber towards his crutches.

“Nice and slow.” His fingers brush yours as he takes them, and a shy smile works across his face.

“Ye’ll help me?” Simon tsks, but you sigh playfully.

“Of course.”

Getting Johnny settled is easy. You build him a nice little nest with the pillows from the couch, fluffing them for support, making sure he’s comfortable, until Simon reminds you to take it easy.

“You’re not at work, let me do this.”

“I don’t mind…”

“I do. Sit.” He leans you back into the cushions, settling you both, plopping Penny down between you. “If you keep an eye on her, I’ll get breakfast.” She crawls into your side with her sip cup, and you try not to tense when she curls up against your ribs. Her feet press against Johnny’s thigh, and he cups them both in one hand, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every little piece. Deep breath. You can do this.

“Isnae she the bonniest thing ye’ve ever seen?” He breathes, and you nod.

“She really is. The cutest.”

“She looks like ‘im.” He murmurs, and you blink, glancing down at the baby. Like who?

“Like…” the curiosity falls out of your mouth in a hurry, and you grimace. He gives you a weird look.

“He didnae tell ye?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s his. Simon’s.”

“Wait, I thought…” You don’t what you thought. You assumed she was adopted, or something else. “She’s…”

“We got turned down by every agency, ye know. Two dads, active combat roles.” He leans forward, tickling her arm, and her eyes light up, like she’d forgotten he was there. You help her straighten, and she scoots over closer to him, trying climb him like a jungle gym. “Ah, Penny. No. Da’s hurt.” He makes the sign for what you assume is hurt, his pointer fingers motioning towards one another. “Hurt, Penny. Da is hurt.” He does it again, and she cocks her head. “Here, sit here, there’s a girl.” She settles easily after that, completely captivated by the old Disney movie Johnny flicked on. “Anyway, no one would let us adopt a baby. Felt like it was goin’ be impossible, and we almost gave up. Then we met Pen’s mum.”

“You knew her?”

“Aye. She’s special. Gave us a chance.” Something green and snappish curdles in your stomach. It’s illogical, insane, and you try to beat it back. “We didnae know, obviously, who the dad was goin’ be but, I’m so glad it was him.”

“Did you…”

“Do it naturally?” He wiggles an eyebrow. “Nay. We both donated and she did it at home.”

“And... Simon said she's not in Penny’s life?”

“Not right now. She will be again, one day. She jus’ travels a lot and is really committed to her job. Has no parental rights, nothin’ like that. But she’s not against seeing Penny, the adoption is open.”

“That’s great.” Adoption is delicate, you know. There’s no one size fits all when it comes to nature of it, and you’re relieved to hear it sounds like they have something that’s healthy for Penny, and everyone involved.

“Sorry, thought he would’ve told ye.”

“It didn’t come up, and I didn’t want to… pry. He mentioned she was deaf when I asked about the sign language.”

“Eh, pry all ye want. Ye’re in our life, ye should know these things. And aye, she’s fully deaf. Travels as an interpreter for the U.S. military. Works with some important guy at the top. Dinnae know much about it.”

“That’s really cool.”

“We’re very grateful to her.” He strokes some of Penny’s curls from her forehead, and you look closer, watching for similarities, her chubby cheeks and chestnut dusted dark blonde hair now starting to look reminiscent of Simon, the longer you study her.

“I’m happy for you guys.” He glances from her to you with a beautiful smile, so handsome it makes your chest hurt.

“Me too.”

“I think,” Simon brings two plates with eggs and toast, handing one to Johnny before placing the other on the table by your knee. “We should have a bit of a lie in on the couch, easy day. Bun’s still on leave of absence, and you’re not going anywhere.” He shoots Johnny a pointed look, who holds his hand up as if to say, who me?

“A lie in sounds grand.” He postures, grimacing with a shift. You instinctively try to move towards him, a hand on Pen to keep her in place, but Simon beats you to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ jus’ my hip.”

“Let’s eat something and I’ll get your pain meds.” You nod encouragingly.

“Better to take them with something in your stomach.”

“Is it goin’ be like this all the time? Two nursemaids cluckin’ at me?”

“Probably.” You laugh, and Simon shakes his head.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Johnny murmurs, voice low. Penny is upstairs, asleep for her morning nap already, both guys settled back on the couch, a tangle of limbs.

“No.” you whisper. Simon’s head turns, drawing his eye, but the exchange is fleeting.

“How’s your shoulder, bun?” Johnny murmurs, and you half shrug.

“Better. The steroid helped a lot.” The room is heady, and you’re cocooned in its warmth, blazing heat radiating from Simon trying to lull you into a nap like Pen’s.

“Ye can sleep, pretty girl.” Johnny smirks. His legs are thrown over the larger man’s thighs, one gingerly cushioned, the other, lackadaisical and bent.

“It’s so warm in here.” You offer as an explanation, and he agrees.

“Aye. Si’s a furnace.”

“You run pretty warm yourself.” Simon chides, but nods encouragingly at you.

“I need a shower.” It is tempting, to curl up on the couch between them, slip away into safe and comfortable dreamland but… not without a shower. You’re overdue.

“Okay. We’ll be here.”

There isn’t much in this world a shower can’t fix.

Or at least, that’s how this one feels. It’s scalding, so hot the room steams up within a minute, and you relax under the spray, letting it wash over the soreness in your shoulder, cascade down your back.

You linger in it, soaking up the quiet moment, raising your face to the water over and over, letting it rinse you clean.

By the time you get out, you almost feel like a brand-new person.

If only…

“How was yer shower?”

“Good.” He tries to fidget on the couch, rocking back and forth to make room for you. “Don’t Johnny, you’ll hurt-“

“I’m fine.” He grunts. “I’m still me, ye know. I know ye didnae know me, before, but I dinnae need help wit’ everything.” Your heart cracks.

“I know you don’t.” You think back to your vulnerable patient, the one who cried about being separated from his family, and how far he’s come. It fills you with pride, and something so foreign, so strange, you don’t even recognize. A massive swell of affection, of care. “I’m just… programmed, you know?” You try to soothe him, and he grumbles until you’re slipping into his side, turning to press your face in his chest.

“Sorry, bun. Didnae mean to get frustrated.”

“I know, Johnny.”

The baby monitor crackles.

Johnny shifts restlessly.

“What is it?” you murmur, and he huffs.

“I want to get her. Hate feelin’ useless to my own daughter.” You could…

“Do you… do you want me to grab her? Bring her down here for you?” His eyes light up.

“Would ye? Si’s just in the kitchen, dealing with some laundry. If ye could-“

“Yeah, I got her.”

“Ye’re sure? Yer shoulder…”

“It’s fine, promise.” He holds your jaw briefly, tongue dashing out to lick his lips, and then he kisses you, wet and messy, breathlessly.

“Thanks, bun.”

Penny’s room is dark. You’ve seen it in passing, but never really been inside, and when you flick on the light, she’s already standing in her crib, little face wet with tears.

‘Shhh, it’s alright!” You’re not sure she will calm for you since you’re not one of her dads. You’re practically a stranger in her life, but she reaches for you anyway, arms stretched out, hands grabbing in mid air. “Okay, okay, here we go.” You support her weight with your good arm, tucking her up on your waist, setting her easily on your hip.

At least they’re good for something.

“There we go. Ready to go downstairs, see Da? Yeah?” You babble, surprised to feel her nappy still dry, and she tilts her head back, pretty eyes and gob smacked expression locked onto you.

Fuck.

“Hi, baby girl.” You whisper, backs of two fingers gentle on her cheek. “You really do look like your dad, don’t you?” Something springs a leak, cracks slivering wide, a failsafe crumbling in your chest. It stops working, stops processing, because tears are suddenly flooding your eyes, making it hard to see.

Penny coos. You try to take a deep breath.

Get it together. You’re holding their baby.

Deep breath.

Pain long buried and forgotten clangs on the rusty iron encasing your heart. It bangs against it, pleads to get out.

For a second, it steals your breath. Almost forces a sob from your throat. Raw edged agony beats wildly through your veins, sharp and acidic, poisoning you from the inside out.

You shove it back where it came from.

You need some air. You need some space, some distance... something that will lessen this feeling, this despair.

“Alright,” you croak. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

“Where’s…”

“She went up to get Penny.” Simon nods, thumb slipping the monitor’s volume crank higher, head cocked.

“Hi baby girl… you really do look like your dad, don’t you?” He glances at Johnny, who shrugs sheepishly.

“I let it slip.”

“Did you explain everything?”

“Mostly. Didnae want her to think we were together or anything like that.” Simon nods, satisfied, and Johnny’s toes curl a little. He loves seeing that expression on his face, the proud one, the nearly smug one, and he’d do anything for it, again and again. Johnny tilts his chin for a kiss and he obliges, deep and slow, gentle hand on his chest. “You were so good for us earlier. How’re you feeling? Anything sore?” The blood rushes back to Johnny’s cock from the praise alone, and he blushes.

“I feel good.”

“Do ya?”

“Aye. Wanna play with our bunny s’more.” He grows hotter under his clothes, but Simon shakes his head.

“Don’t push it. We’ve talked about this. You have to let her set the pace.” He knows, and he tries, but after this morning, all he can think about is your hand on his cock, your mouth on his, the dazed, lust filled expression on your face as your hips rocked in time with your strokes.

He wants to show you everything they can give you; the way real love is supposed to feel. Not painful and terrifying. But beautiful, and limitless.

“She’s ready for more.” He protests.

“She’s not, Johnny.” He’s using that tone, the one Johnny knows not to argue with, so he concedes.

After all, he doesn’t really want to push you. He wants you to trust them. Love them.

He wants you to feel safe and comfortable. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

“Alright,” your voice sounds heavy, broken. Simon’s head snaps up. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Penny is dancing in your arms, clapping her hands together with some sort of sign you don’t seem to understand, babbling nonstop.

“Someone’s awake!” you declare, and Johnny holds his arm out, beckoning.

“There they are.” Simon ruffles his mohawk. You almost falter, stuttering in your stance, but your lips quirk into a tiny smile.

“She’s still dry.” You explain, placing her in his side. He wants to pull you down for another kiss, but Penny insists on one instead, open mouth seeking his nose like a bird.

“Ach, alright wee lamb, alright.”

“You okay?” Simon is cautious, trying not to encroach too much when you’re having a hard time, something he’s been instilling in Johnny too. Giving you space, giving you time.

“Bunny? Ye wit' us?” You’re in your head again, drifting. Here, but not really, and he tries to pull back towards them, to safety. To love.

“Yeah, I… uh. I have to run some errands.”

“Where?” Simon asks sharply, and Johnny tries to sit up.

“I have to go to the hospital, fill out some paperwork for leave, and I need to swing by apartment… get some clothes and stuff.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, no that’s alright. You guys hang out. I won’t be too long.” You look uncomfortable, twisting and turning, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Let me drive you, at least. I can’t stand you taking the train all over the city.” You laugh.

“I’ve grown up on trains and been fine, besides...” You motion to Johnny and Penny on the couch before your arms cross, sprinkle of defiance that has him casting a quick glance to see Simon’s jaw flexing. What choice do they have?

“Alright. Well, text us to check in yeah?”

You’re gone for hours. Simon takes to pacing, and Johnny can’t soothe him, can’t hold him in the way he wants, can’t walk over and throw his arms around him the way he should be.

It hurts.

“What’s dad doing, hmm Penny? What’s he doing?” He coos, pointing to where his partner is checking his cellphone for the tenth time. She babbles something unintelligible back to him, chin tipped back, gazing in wonder.

Simon’s stress softens, hardness still lingering in worry lines, mouth taut. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, settling on the couch opposite where Penny is sitting up against Johnny.

“It’s okay. I’m worried too.” He commiserates. It’s the same kind of agony in his heart, the same taste is his mouth, from when he was in hospital. Helplessly laid up and watching you work your way through whatever is chasing you. He clears the lump in his throat. “She’ll be back soon. Right? She wouldnae…” panic erupts in the bottom of his stomach. “She wouldnae just, leave.”

“We don’t know what she would do, love. She’s scared, and she’s smart, and we don’t know who she’s running from.”

“Maybe ye should’ve followed her.” He groans, and Simon gives him a look.

“Thought you didn’t want me doing that now?”

“I dinnae.” He chews on his lip. His abdomen is throbbing, and he reaches for Simon’s hand.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Simon soothes, rubbing a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“Everythin’ would be easier if I wasnae like… like this.” He grits, frustration laden voice cracking. He’s a mess. A burden, can’t take care of his own family, help Si with Pen, or you. All he can do is lay here, and-

“Shhh. Don’t say that.” Simon cradles the back of his head, mouth pressed against his forehead. “You’re alive, that’s all I care about. You came home.”

“Feel like I should be doin’ more.”

“The only thing-“ Penny grunts, and Simon plops a finger in her fist, letting her yank and tug on it. “The only thing you need to do is get better, focus on healing. I’m here for the rest, okay?”

“Okay.” He whispers, eyes heavy. The medications knock him out, but it’s better than before, when he was stuck inside dreams, bound to a bed.

“Get some rest, sweet boy. I’ll wake you when she’s back.” He’s already losing the battle, stupor dragging him back under, and bliss clouds his head as he begins to drift.

“‘Kay.”

#simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #peaches writes

1K notes · View notes

theonlychastina · 1 year

Text

The fruit of the week!

Single ladies be patient and keep your options open.

You aren’t keeping them open to build your confidence and have a viral “my biggest flex” TikTok. No ma’am keep them open so you can grow as a person. The purpose of dating is to see what’s out there as well as self discovery! You are dating to find out what you like and don’t like. So here are some dating rules I am following in 2023:

Rule #1

Date everyone. Give everyone and opportunity. A first date isn’t solid commitment; it is an opportunity to see what is there.

Rule #2

Don’t be so quick to write someone off. Dating is the beginning stages of getting to know someone. Give them an opportunity to correct their wrong, and then reassess.

Rule #3

Date yourself during this process as well. Take yourself out on solo dates! Try new things and create memories and experiences with yourself!

Lastly,

Rule #4

Have fun. If dating seems overwhelming, stressful, or not a happy experience, then chances are you are not ready to date. Spend more time with yourself and take the pressure off of the rush.

I hope these rules help you as much as they have been assisting me on my 20-something and dating journey. Good luck and may love find you!

#ahduck #love yourself #20 something and dating #dating in 2023 #2023 dating pool #fall in love with ease #Dallas tx #Frisco tx #anchor #anchor podcaster

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

Between Dreams and Sugar

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)

A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after.

On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before.

Hell, you wished you were drunk.

“Sergeant.”

You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop.

You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.

“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles.

Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?

Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function.

A dark growl bounces off the walls.

Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars.

They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out.

You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.

“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…”

“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.

Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe.

Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony.

Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day.

But you entertain him.

Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood.

Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did.

Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away.

His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present.

The gulping sigh.

“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”

“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”

A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out.

“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?”

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before.

But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.

They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished.

Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen.

Fuck, it made him sick.

Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.

What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.

How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest.

“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team.

His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.

You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well.

Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.

Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died.

“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.”

“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.”

The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.

A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry.

But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost.

“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver.

“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”

“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks.

You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day.

“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets.

He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.

“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.

Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.

“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred.

Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.

The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.

He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.

You had to be okay.

Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.

“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone.

The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”

“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”

The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest.

Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later.

Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.

The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend.

“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.

“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—

Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade.

The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart.

Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on.

It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.

The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight.

Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment.

You on the other hand.

Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.”

Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.”

Alric smiles.

“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness.

Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils.

It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself.

“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.”

Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells.

“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”

Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain.

The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.

Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life.

The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed.

His bird doesn’t bleed.

Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment.

He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.

“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!”

Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.

—

You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one.

But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat.

Every limb is a cinder block.

“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely.

“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple.

Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.

A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.

“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.”

The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.

Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.

“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?”

Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.

“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”

He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds.

Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth.

Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp.

“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart.

Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.”

He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs.

“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.”

“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.”

Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.

“They’re nothing.”

“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.

“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house.

Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise.

“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form.

Ghost snaps forward.

“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”

The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.

So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine.

Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.

He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.

“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.”

A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter.

“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.

“What’s that?”

“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.”

A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.

“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”

Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”

Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.

“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured.

You know what he means.

“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb.

When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body.

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention.

“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.

“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”

“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.”

“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body.

A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back.

Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you.

The word seems to stop.

“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to.

Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.

“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.”

“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”

“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.”

“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles.

You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”

Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him.

Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.

“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.

“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.

“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.

“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.

Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward.

“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward.

“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head.

“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.”

—

“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.

The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread.

“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.

“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide.

“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue.

“I think that was a challenge.”

“It wasn’t.”

The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.

“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can.

The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.

You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.

“One of everything.”

TAGS:

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bunicate · 1 month

Note

omg congrats on pulling bladie!!! big brother blade lives on my mind ngl ik he loves to spoil his lil sister’s pussy the second his parents r outta the houseee ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . blade x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. brief anal. creampie. a litl bit of possessive bladie. he says some dubious things. just a smidge of jealousy. “little girl” usage. breeding mention. unedited ofkurs ﾉ wc ꒱ 1.4k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ if uncomfy pls scroll or block ^_^

muhehe tysm ! ! still trying to build him ! he’s far from perfect but at least he’s at home with me. yk I had 2 pull through nd write smthn icky for him but I did go in a tad bit different direction :<<

you feel it, regret pooling in the pit of your stomach like rocks settling at the bottom of a shallow lake. the beating of your heart stutters out of tandem with the batter of blades hips.

his firm hands anchor themselves on the softness of your lower back, dull nails digging into your skin like thorns.

he fucks you with such depravity, and your obnoxiously noisy cunt salivated in response to the familiar bump of his cock.

it was far too late for regrets, you knew it well, even as he’s buried himself to the hilt. your parents were a thing of the past, but there’s always the potential of subjecting an innocent passerby to the sight of your brother rubbing your tender insides with his cock.

despite your roused state, you're still capable of reason, though your brother seemed to have a complete disregard for it.

“b-bladie.”

it’s soft on his ears, polite, although honeyed with a subtle warning accompanied by the slow pulse of your cunt.

his cock twitches from your quiet plea. he’s close, and at this point, he knows better than to cross the line any further, but you were elusive to your own charms. how could he bury his urges when your round and soft butt continued to smack against his pelvis ? your cunt drooled each time he pulled out.

its such a sight for sore eyes, and somehow his gaze kept wandering to the tight rim above, making his breathing ragged— almost animalistic.

he’s seen all of you, sights no older brother should witness, but it didn’t stop him from wanting more.

it should terrify you, the lengths he goes to stake his claim over you. coming as close as threatening to breed you and keep you bound to him like a pet. predators would be wise to never cross the hunter, even they could sense the extent of his prowess.

blade purposefully keeps you out of his affairs, but you know he’s a fearsome warrior. he’s tall and slender and with each movement, his hulk of muscle flexes. he’s strong enough to drag your body up and down his member, serving as a stark reminder of the gap in strength.

blade's palms, rough from wielding his ancient sword, settled on both sides of your waist, steels its grip. his thumb presses against your back, and the tips of his fingers meet at your belly button.

he bounces you on his cock, using you like a doll factored for fucking. he lifted you repeatedly like you weighed nothing and all you could do was submit to his brutal pace.

blade bites his lip to prevent curses from escaping.

he feels . . . good, better than usual. your swollen pussy tugs on his length, drawing out the remnants of his willpower. the desire to cum and bury it in your womb causes blood to rush.

like you can sense the danger, you peer over your shoulder cautiously.

“you h-have to pull out . . y’can’t just cum inside, okay ?”

such a redundant conversation, and he pays it no mind.

what good would it be to do something so risky—so wrong, but for blade, it would be worth the peril.

he doesn’t acknowledge your admonition, instead pressing you further into the sheets, elongating the arch in your back.

“stay still.”

his hand collides with your backside and a startled gasp echoes. the apple of your ass cheek stings, while the damp release between your thighs becomes stickier.

the weight on the bed dips when your big brother lowers himself. his chest presses to your back when he fucks you again.

roaring slaps of moist flesh lie thick in the air. you’re soft, so fragile in his embrace that he could crush you like a dainty flower trampled from being hidden between shards of grass.

when blade feels that familiar tender pulse of your cunt signaling your finish, he painfully pulls out as per your whiny request. he utterly despised having to separate himself from you, but nonetheless, he obeys your wishes. sort of.

his cock stands tall and thick, cream dripping from the edge of his tip. your pussy is agape in front of him, but his eyes linger on the tight coil of your ass.

rough palms enclose in a tight fist around his shaft. he pumps his cock, staring daggers at the rim until his balls hang heavier.

he wanted to empty them, he wanted nothing more than to milk his cock using your sweet cunt, but the hunger that normally consumed him wanted something else for a change.

he slaps his tip against your puckered hole, humping the pretty flesh. his leaking head increasingly swells as the seconds pass by, turning bright pink. the hunter groans, and heaves, his sickening thoughts running rampant while he envisions himself filling up his little sister.

he’s no longer computing, his body moves on autopilot, and he’s wiping his glossy tip over your ass.

“hnn-! n-no more. not there bladie !”

you squeal. the sensation is new and foreign, and you find yourself torn between begging for more or scrambling away.

a growing smirk settles on his face, and you see a slither of his sharp teeth.

“you're mouthy today. maybe i should put my cock somewhere else instead.”

you tense when his tip probes your tight muscle again, rubbing it in circles. he was stimulating your ass, forcing your pussy to twitch out of neglect.

he mumbles to himself.

“such a brainless girl. i thought i made it clear that i take what i want.”

his orbital pools mimicking the color of blood narrow. he’s almost there, sloppily fucking the skin of your ass until the slippery head of his member breaches the tight ring. and then he snaps.

with a single, calculated thrust, relief rains down in waves. he buries his cock in all the way as streams of his cum spurt out, dressing your walls in milky webs.

it’s warm as it fills your insides and your mind becomes a foggy maze. instead of your big brother cumming inside your cunt, he emptied his load in your ass, and nothing but burgeoning heat swallows you up.

“thats it . . take what i give you.”

it’s hard to retain anything when his breath tickles the sides of your cheek and his pulsing sack mushes against your clit.

“no part of you is off limits, little girl.”

by now, you're writhing, and you can’t think about how full you felt. not when his words had you mewling out of shame and excitement.

blade makes sure to deliver a few more thrusts, just to be certain that he’s been thoroughly drained. his heart thrums against his chest, reminding him that he's real—you’re real, and that his cock is stretching his little sister’s ass.

his breathing becomes uneven, the exhales of air caressing the plains of your damp skin.

he lowers his head, his lips settling by the shell of your ear.

“soon . .”

long strands of his hair fall into place , resting on your own skin.

“i'll cum inside this tiny cunt and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it.”

a shiver runs down your spine. equal parts of fear and eagerness for that fateful day of promise.

when he pulls out, his seed drips from your opening down the length of your slit. both of his hands grab your ass cheeks to watch the cum nestle between your lower lips and spill on the already soiled sheets.

carefully he watches your cunt push out the remnants, watching it cascade in thick dollops.

“such greedy holes.”

you puff out your cheeks and move the stringy hairs from your face.

“stop it . . it’s so embarrassing when you say that .”

you attempt to kick him off, and of course it’s thwarted by his iron hold on you.

he presses a sloppy kiss on your asshole, uncaring of the mess coating your sensitive parts.

“eeeeeeeek -! you’re sooooooo gross, bladie ! get away from me !”

he spanks your ass to hush your outburst.

“shut up.”

he kisses you to silence more of your complaints. the faint taste of cum on his soft lips mingling against your spit - slicked ones.

he pulls away audibly, taking a calm breath.

“you're seeing jing yuan tomorrow.”

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden mention of the general.

your brother is nothing less of a maverick, only keeping you close and others at a less than reasonable distance.

jing yuan however complicated things. while they weren't as close, anymore you still made an effort to see him despite their soured relationship.

in his scarce free time when he wasn't resting, he taught you all sorts of things. he helped time escape you when boredom struck in blade's absence.

you nod stiffly, still skeptical at the hunter before you. you're wary of his intentions, but too stimulated to care.

blade's face betrays no emotion and so, you’re suddenly startled.

you gasp when his teeth nicks at your neck.

he sucks the skin for a few seconds and then kisses the spot he bruised. proud of his handiwork he pulls away to speak up once more. you can nearly hear his smugness.

“. . . send my regards to the general.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #blade x reader smut #blade x reader #blade x female reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade smut #hsr blade #yingxing x reader #yingxing x you #honkai smut #honaki star rail #hsr x reader #hsr smut #female reader #tw:incest

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glorysbox · 7 months

Text

leon x gn!reader

summary: re2r leon fucks you in his jeep... that's it. 1.5k

warnings: explicitly 18+, one pump chump leon LOL

“Fuck—“ Leon shifts under you, his grip on you tightening momentarily. The pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your thighs… a very, very desperate attempt to ground himself. “I can’t… slow down, please.”

Leon’s head thumps against the leather backseat of his Jeep. His eyes are screwed shut as he lets out a shaky breath, the calloused pads of his fingertips releasing and gripping you—squishing you. You can feel him throbbing inside of you. You can feel each and every twitch and motion of his hips as he’s desperate to keep his cool and not cum inside of you after just two minutes. It’s cute.

Leon is cute.

“You’re so sensitive,” You coo at him, your hands reaching to feel the muscles of his chest through his shirt. He’s clothed still—as are you, save for the way his pants and boxers are haphazardly bunched at his ankles and how yours have been thrown somewhere else. “I just started. You already can't take it?.”

It’s dark. You can barely see your boyfriend’s face, but you’re almost certain that there’s some semblance of a pout on his face as you tease him. It’s always like this when you’re on top. He can’t focus on anything but you. How you make him feel good. How pretty you look on top of him, even if he can’t fully see your face.

“Just… just give me a few seconds, okay?” Leon’s tone is shaky as he speaks, hushed as his hands start to roam further from your thighs and up towards your torso. They rise, higher and higher, the palms of his hands dipping under your shirt and exploring every inch of skin that he can reach. His cock throbs inside of you again. “Don't make fun of me. I can't... can't help it when I'm with you.”

You can practically *feel* the heat radiating from his face as you hold back a smile, squinting to see him from the darkness that surrounds the both of you in his Jeep. The tinted windows and the fact that it's the middle of the night do nothing to help... but Leon really couldn't wait any longer. He needed you now.

"I'm not making fun of you..." You reassure, cupping his face with your hands and making him look at you. It does nothing to stop the borderline possessive way that his hands caress your body. The feeling of his hands on your body isn't unfamiliar—it's welcomed. He seems to know all the places to touch that make you whine and press further down on his cock. "It's cute. Does that make you feel better?"

"No." He leans forward, his lips brushing against your own in a chaste kiss—before his hand escapes from under your shirt and cups your cheek, bringing you closer to him. The kiss is sweet—just like he is. He’s always sweet. Wetness pools between his thighs, staining the leather seat of the Jeep as he shifts under you again. Leon’s hands travel downward again, anchoring themselves on your hips as he pulls away from your lips.

“You’re so…” He trails off as he slowly brings you up, temporarily releasing himself of the vice you have around his cock. His breath is warm as you feel him let out a deep exhale—less shaky and more anticipating than before. “So good to me.”

With slow, deliberate motions, he sinks you back down onto his cock. Savoring the way you feel around him. Mindful to not be too rough with you. He can barely make out the features of your face in the darkness, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Doesn't stop him from imagining the way your eyebrows are probably drawn together and how your mouth is probably slightly ajar.

“I love you… fuck. I can’t…” Strings of praise and you feel so goods slip from his lips as he begins to guide you up and down, soft gasps accompanying them as the slick sounds begin to fill the air of the Jeep once more. It's only been a few moments, but he already feels himself obsessing over the way you clench around him once more. His eyes are trained on the junction where the two of you meet; his breaths quickening to match the pace that he's beginning to set.

Unsurprisingly, Leon’s hips are starting to press up into yours as he guides you down onto him. He wanted to be more gentle. But he never really was good at controlling himself. Especially when it comes to you.

“L—Leon—“ Your words come out in hushed gasps, cut off by the sounds of your own moans as you grip desperately at his shirt. He’s handsy as he fucks up into you: gripping your shirt, his free hand reaching up to grab onto your hair, his fingers pinching at the meat of your thigh, hand trailing along the curve of your stomach—desperate to feel all of you.

The slapping of your skin onto his gets louder and louder, his hands pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts up into you to meet halfway—his moans in your ear as all of his inhibitions seemingly leave him at just the feeling of you. You can’t help it, at this point. Can't help the sticky mess you’re making on his lap. The way your face is buried into his neck only seems to spur him on more.

You can feel the SUV rocking in tandem with his movements. His hips tilt ever so slightly, desperate to meet that spot inside of you—to pull those noises out of you that he’s come to crave every single time. Leon always gets what he wants, too. The sound of your whine, pathetic and wavering in his ear makes him smile—his own sighs and groans as he slips in and out of you not much better.

“So good—you’re so good to me. Fuck. You feel so—“ He fucks you like he means it. He kisses you like he loves you. And it’s too much. Leon is quick to kiss you. His soft lips latch onto your own, splitting from you only to place more kisses on the side of your mouth and pressing more onto the skin of your neck. “So good. Come on, you can take it.”

The words are meant to be more encouraging than anything else… yet, he can feel the way you tighten and clench around him—can feel the way drool slips from the corner of your mouth and leaves wet spots on his shirt—can hear the muffled moans that you can’t hold back in his chest.

He wishes he could see your face. See the way your eyes are lidded and how they roll toward the back of your head when he hits the spots he knows you like... but from the way his thighs are flexing and twitching under you, he's not doing much better. Just the image of it in his head is enough to make him squirm.

Broken strings of praise and groans fall from his lips, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips nearly painfully as he shifts under you.

"Can't... can't, Leon. Please, I'm gonna..." You sigh out, barely managing to piece together the sentence from his nearly punishing pace as he fucks into you like it'll be the last time you'll ever be together. You feel his fingernails digging into the skin of your ass.

Even in the darkness from the tinted windows of the Jeep, you can see how his head lolls from side to side as he's so desperate to hold on to his control. To get you to cum first. Leon is a gentleman like that.

Well... he tries to be.

But the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him... the way you paw at his shirt... the way your skin ripples each time it meets his own from his brutal pace.

To think that he'd even lasted this long truly was a miracle.

It’s not hard to tell when Leon’s about to cum. His hips tremble, he grips you with really no regard for his strength—he whines and whines and his hips stutter and lose their pace quicker than he was able to gain it.

“Fuck. Fuck. You feel so good—you feel too good—“ His tone is higher, his body taut and thighs flexing as his hips twitch and jolt under you. Leon pulls you down onto him, keeping you in one place as his hips uncontrollably rut into you. Thick ropes of his cum sputter inside of you as he cants his hips on you, grinding and pulling you as close as possible until he’s whining more because it’s making him feel too good.

It's silent for a few minutes after. Really, the only thing that can be heard are Leon's shaky and rapid breaths and the long forgotten music from the radio playing in the background. He trembles beneath you, hands loosening on the nearly punishing grip that they held on you only a few moments ago.

Leon's hands rub along your hips, his thumb pressing gentle circles into the spots he was just tugging on. You can't see his expression... but something just tells you that he's flashing you that toothy grin that he always does whenever he wants to charm you. "That was—"

"You lasted longer this time."

"Stop… are you making fun of me again?"

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy smut #writing #re #nsydfw

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k-buki · 13 days

Text

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! ( nsfw . mdni )

ꪆৎ . . in which ⨾ gojo satoru is a messy eater . wc 767 . cw : f!reader. cunnilingus. squirting. fingering. not proofread.

gojo satoru is a messy eater.

and no, not in the sense of food; it’s more in the sense of you.

whenever he gets the chance to lay you on the bed and strip you, he immediately dives into your drenched folds, and fuck is he sloppy with it.

he's lapping up your juices like he hasn't eaten in days, fingers curling straight into the spot which he knows will make you completely compliant to his every wishes – and that includes letting him continuously eat you out until you're in tears.

so immediately when you get home from shopping, his lips are heaving on yours, not lacking in haste to bring you to your shared bedroom and get rid of the fabric that prevented that skin on skin contact he craved.

his unwavering grip is anchored on your hips, positioning himself in front of your panties, already plenty drenched in your slick.

"this wet already f'me, princess?" he'd coo, blue irises filled with a feral glint, flicking up to your facial features in order to purely soak in your reaction. "n' we're not even at the good part..."

in an almost animalistic frenzy, he tugs your undergarments off, staring at your dripping folds, drool already pooling on his tongue.

"'toruu..." you whine out, hands intwining into his pristine locks. "please..."

"mmhm..." he hums in reply, heeding to your whims as he gets closer, pressing a burning kiss to your clit, causing a jolt to shock your whole body.

his tongue sticks out, slowly making its way across your cunt in slow, deliberate movements. his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping himself smothered into your heat as he begins to suck on your swollen bud.

from the way you're babbling in unfettered pleasure, someone could mistake you for speaking in tongues. a symphony of intelligible noises constantly spill from your parted lips, creating a sinful melody which flowed shamelessly through gojo's ears.

it ringed out to him, translating in his mind to you begging for him. you're begging, for him.

that one fact turns him on to the max, and he carefully slides two fingers into your tight hole. your cunt immediately clamps down around the intrusion, confinements fluttering around his thick digits.

you whine out, a murmured distortion of 's'good's and 'more's rolling harmonically off of your tongue.

and of course, he responds promptly.

his tongue gets back to work, eagerly licking up the juices smeared around your folds. with the way he was drinking in your fluids, you could've incorrectly claimed him dehydrated.

yet he wasn't, he was simply deprived of you.

he groans into your pussy, a perfect display of his satisfaction. this time, he's the one begging for you.

"fuck... tastes s'good..." his free hand holds your waist down, preventing your squirming with all of his might. "give me more, please, s'addicting..."

the erotic squelching noises of his fingers pistoning in and out of you sends you reeling, and your teeth are gnawing at your bottom lip in order to not wake your neighbours.

your eyes are rolling back into your skull, almost straining from how far they managed to go. your thighs twitch around his head, squeezing against his skull and almost choking him out – but he wouldn't mind suffocating in between your legs. in his opinion, it'd be the best way to go.

your back arches prettily, hips slightly lifting off the bed as the familiar heat conjured in your abdomen.

"satoru..." you breath out breathily, gasping for the slightest bit of oxygen in your lungs. "gonna cum..."

"yeah?" he mumbles into your sticky folds, way too busy with curling his fingers in all the right spots to aid you in reaching your climax. "cum for me, go on, cum all over my face..."

and you do just that, squirting your glossy fluids all over his face, his tongue lolling out of his mouth to capture all of your essence that he can. he refused to let a single drop go to waste.

once you clamber down from your peak, you're left a limp mess in the sheets, gojo lazily dragging his heated tongue around your cunt to cleanse any drops he may have missed. he slides his fingers out of you, also licking them clean as well, humming in approval as he does so.

he backs up onto his knees, climbing on top of you with a sly smirk, your fluids coating the bottom half of his face.

in a cocky tone, he jokes, tilting his head to the side and gazing at you, lovestruck, through his pale lashes. "messy, huh?"

#〃ಇ┆— ‘elle fantasises ༉‧₊˚.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk smut

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theyellowmistress · 8 months

Text

“The World”

(my contribution to the @ themagnusarcana zine over on ig)

Image 1 [ID: A digital illustration of the end of the Magnus Archives podcast. Jon and Martin are situated in the pupil of a great eye taking up residence in a red sky. The panopticon/institute is burning and crumbling in the background, as Martin stabs Jon in the heart. Jon’s blood flows down and pools at the base of the House at Hill Top Road, which sits atop a large web made from the tape of large cassette tapes lining the sides of the image, acting as anchors for the web. Annabelle Cane sits at the bottom half of the image, pulling strands from the blood-soaked web and connecting them to a group of planets she sits amongst. /end ID]

Image 2 [ID: close-up of Martin stabbing Jon. /end ID]

Image 3 [ID: close-up of Annabelle Cane. /end ID]

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanart #tma fanart #the world card #my art #my art described #tma spoilers #tma finale #mag 200 #tw blood #tw stabbing #tw spiders #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #annabelle cane #I am seriously so glad to have access to this blog again #being locked out for a week was rough #especially when I had art to post

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

you made me this way

words: 1.5k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, murder!!, guns!!, blood!!, drug dealer!rafe and reader, reader kills a cop!!, romanticizing murder and violence!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral

“baby, give me the gun.” rafes eyes are wide, but they're not trained on you, even as he reaches his hand out for the weapon.

you quickly turn it and place the handle against his palm, your own hand shaking when you lower it. rafe unloads the chamber before tucking the gun into his belt, his eyes still on the body now bleeding out on the deck of the boat.

“baby. what the fuck did you just do?” rafe finally drags his eyes away from the growing pool of red.

you're surprised by rafes anger, his harsh tone.

“you-you said he was in our way!” you justify your actions.

rafe knew it was a mistake to let you into the drug game on the island, to convert you from sweet innocent girlfriend to a dealer, to the partner in his growing empire.

“so you fucking shoot him?” rafe shouts, stepping closer to you.

“of course! i did this for us rafe, for you.” you emphasize. you'd do anything for rafe, and you were just showing him by taking out the competition, and a dirty cop in the meanwhile. no one would suspect that an officer was the one rivaling with the young dealer on the island, so the best thing you could do for business was to dispose of him before he was able to get enough dirt to turn to his colleagues and become the sole distributor in the outer banks.

“we gotta get rid of his body-fuck-who else knew he was here?” rafes mind is reeling, running through all the possibilities of ways you could get caught as he looks around the isolated area, his boat anchored in the sand.

“nobody! i was really safe about it and we are close to the swamp, we can dump his body there and then no one will ever know.” you explain, having learned from rafes stories and warnings that the alligators will take care of anything left in the swamp.

“okay.” rafe takes a deep breath. “okay. we’ll figure this out. lets just get rid of this body then go from there.” “you’re hard.” you point out, rafe looking down at his swim trunks, tented in the front. “you just murdered someone for me baby, of course i’m hard.”

“fuck me.” you cross over to rafe, pressing your body into his. “fuck me then we can get rid of the body.”

“you’re fucking crazy.” rafe says, but a smile graces his lips, his hand grabbing your ass.

“if i’m crazy, it’s because you’ve made me that way.” you kiss rafe, mouth quickly being devoured by him.

rafe moves you backwards towards the sofa, the sunlight hitting the plastic waterproof material as he pushes your hips down to sit, with rafe still hovering over top you.

“suck me, baby.” rafe tugs his swim shorts down, his hard cock instantly being swallowed as you lean forward, needing to taste his thickness in your mouth.

“fuck, so good.” rafe moans, thrusting his hips forward, fucking into your mouth as you relax your throat for him to slide down. rafes hands fist in your hair as he moans, eyes flickering over to the dead body, the man that you killed for rafe, for your joint business.

“love your mouth, baby. love everything about you.” rafes soft words are contrast to how hard hes pushing his cock inside of your mouth, not even caring when you start to gag around him, struggling to breathe through your nose.

you eventually have to tap rafes thigh to take a deep breath, but your hand takes the place while you breath, continuing to pleasure rafe.

“wanna fuck you now, come on.” rafe grabs your hips, turning you over so you’re kneeling on the couch, hands gripping the back, looking over the side of the boat towards the sea.

rafe tugs your dress up, the thin cotton material revealing your swimsuit. rafe groans at the tiny bows on either side of your hip, instantly tugging at them so your bikini bottoms fall to the floor.

“do anything for you rafey.” you moan as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds, feeling how wet you are. “anything.” you shudder as he pushes against your entrance, his cock easily entering you with how wet you are.

“i know, baby.” rafe groans, pushing into you slowly but with ease. “you killed for me.” “would do it again.” you clench your cunt around rafes cock, encouraging him to move faster.

rafe keeps the slow pace despite you whining, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you still. “gonna fuck you nice and slow at first. make you feel real good.”

rafe moves one hand around to your stomach, gently caressing your soft skin before skirting lower, his fingers circling around your clit before pressing over it, his fingertips soft on your sensitive pussy as he rubs.

“so good.” you moan, eyes squeezing shut instead of looking at the horizon.

“i know, baby, i know.” rafe groans, glancing over at the dead cop again, the circle of blood expanding even more. rafe knows the clean up is going to be a bitch, but it’s worth it to get rid of the competition.

“harder, please.” you whine.

“not yet.” rafe smirks, loving that you’re already begging for him. “gotta be good and still for me, okay?”

“can’t.” you whine, trying to move a little, but rafes hands are too tight, keeping you from doing anything besides squirming a bit.

“just a bit longer, mmkay? you just killed a man for me, you need to calm down and let me take care of you.” rafe flicks over your clit before continuing to rub over it.

you take a deep breath, trying to calm down and just focus on rafes cock smoothly rubbing against your walls, lightly stretching you open.

“ready?” rafe hums, and before you can register his question, his thrusts suddenly deepening and quickening, pounding into you while pulling you back onto his cock with his one hand.

“oh fuck!” you shout out, glad that there is no one in the desolate area to hear you screaming, as well as the gunshot that went off.

“good girl, good girl.” rafe moans, bucking up into you as your knees stick to the plastic couch material.

“i’m-i can’t.” you moan, letting your head fall as your body pushes forward with every thrust from rafe. “can’t.” you moan again. “feels so good.”

“you gonna cum for me?” rafe questions, his fingers still rapidly rubbing over your clit. you feel his cock swelling inside of you and know he’s not too far away himself.

“yeah.” you nod rapidly. “yeah, so close.” you squeal, feeling lucky that you found someone as perfect as rafe, someone who can make you feel so good.

“gonna cum inside you, pretty girl.” rafe warns shortly before you feel him release inside of you, his cum flooding into your pussy. his orgasm triggers you own, high suddenly ripping through your body as your cunt pulses around rafes cock, milking him even more than he thought possible.

“oh, fuck.” your body quivers when rafe gently pulls out, cum leaking from your cunt and dripping onto the sofa.

“so good, baby.” rafe says, helping you turn over onto your bottom as you slump against the couch, adrenaline from the shooting and ecstacy from the sex quickly draining from your body.

“come here.” you reach up for rafe with the last of your strength, who quickly sinks to his knees and cuddles into your neck, his lips pressing over your neck.

“we gotta take care of this body, baby.” rafe mumbles, tucking himself back into his swimshorts.

“i know, i know.” you sigh, rubbing your fingers over his scalp before allowing him to stand up. you take a moment to breathe while he goes to the captains chair, navigating the boat further into the swamp. you finally get the energy to grab your bikini bottoms at put them back on, the mess of cum now on the seat, but its nothing compared to the mess of blood you know you’ll have to spend hours scrubbing off with bleach.

“here should be good.” rafe says, standing up and grabbing the cop by his arms, dragging him over the edge of the boat with a loud splash. you peak over the edge at the body, both watching as it takes only minutes for an alligator to surface, bumping the cops arm before the gators teeth chomp down.

you gasp, more surprised that you feel nothing seeing the ferocious animal tear into a man that you just murdered.

“come on, baby.” rafe grabs a bucket, knowing it’ll be best to clean as much as you can of the boat before taking it back to the dock.

“wait, rafe.” you grab his arm, looking into his bright blue eyes. “i-i liked it.”

“what?” rafe questions, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“i liked killing him. i would do it again. for you, for us.”

the corner of rafes lip quirks up. “you better stop talking like that before i have to fuck you again.”

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