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aureatchi · 24 days ago

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USER MUSAMORA, you CANNOT js start the story off with "the fire of pyramus danced within its hearth" & EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY.

the dreadful need in the devotee — bungo stray dogs oneshot

content. f!reader. poetic prose, discussions of mortality and death, existentialism, suggestive themes, allusions to greek and abrahamic myth, romanticized unhealthy relationship dynamics, possible continuity errors. notes and translations at the end. not proofread. 3.8k+ words. ⟶ features fyodor dostoevsky. this work is a sequel to another oneshot! reading it's not a requirement, but is encouraged. this is also a collaboration with @yonseibananamilk! please check out her half of the collab ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

The fire of Pyramus danced within its hearth, the crackles a plea for freedom. Wooden shelves shimmered in a spectrum of amber hues. The light married abstract shadows with the spines of ancient books, stories lost to civilizations no historian could neither name nor describe. However, the harsh rays softened as they reached the two huddled on a sofa in the corner.

The domestic flame of your shared nocturnal nook chiseled at your features. Meadowed plains melded into the hills of your cheeks before they dipped back into low valleys nestled on the cusp of your nose or at the curvature of your cupid's bow. Fresh streams fringed the waterline of your eyes, fluttering lashes portraying the underbrush that beckoned him, barely obscuring the mystery hidden beneath the murky brook. Such a delicate canvas, framed with messy hair, made his sick heart thump at such vulnerable dishevelment.

You drank every word of your book with reverence while he could hardly focus on the one he held. The careful movement of your fingers as you turned the page tainted his thoughts into fantasies where they instead traced the expanse of his skin—it was repulsive.

But he dreaded an infallible demise the moment you chose to lay against him, not a thought to the difference in your stations. That heated sensation of unfamiliar tenderness, shrouded from the world, only to be acknowledged in an unimportant room in an unimportant place, thumbed him with a sentiment he could not adhere a title to. You were powerless in the scheme of everything that enveloped you, yet held no regard for fear or fate.

Instead, you smiled.

He hid the quiver of his limbs as his finger brushed the underside of your chin. Your face craned upward, and he realized he had been parched for a taste of the features he had so painstakingly mapped to memory. Your eyes closed with leisure as you leaned into his touch and—

He cracked his eyes, unable to open them as they strained to readjust to the merciless glare of his monitors, their caustic luster a stark contrast to the imprisoned fireside of his daydreams. His muscles cried out when he stretched. The quiver in his limbs recurred in spasmodic vibrations, worsening the cramp of his hands as he flexed them. It was a relentless ache that had become all too familiar to him.

You were a distraction. He had lost whole minutes of time to fanciful delusions with you and that damning grin of yours at the center. In his preparations, he toyed with the idea of dispatching you to a remote location outside the ire of societal destruction before ridiculing himself upon further examination. If another one of his subordinates had become such an issue, he wouldn't have hesitated to snuff them out—you had to be the human incarnate of temptation, the ultimate test of his faith.

Men who had traversed the path before him did not do so without trial. He had scrutinized the warnings their stories contained—Adam, Samson, Saul—men who had strayed from their noble path only to lose their kingdom. Fleshly pleasures lured many a good man to condemnation, for how could such sweetness be considered a mortal sin?

The fallen had once been beautiful creatures of virtue, and you were but a testament to the scars left in their descent. It was temporary—you and the fragmented thoughts your presence created would pass in years' time. He only had to be patient.

A knock at the entrance to his workspace interrupted his internal toil.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Patience would be easier said than done.

"Not at all."

Because you dissipated thought and reason from his frenzied mind the moment you blessed him with even a mumble. Your voice was the otherworldly harmony that strained atop his ballad of misery. Not the corrupt inflections he had become accustomed to over centuries of time, but rather a sincere, artless tune that only he was ordained to hear and that he alone could descry. He would only admit one fact—human companionship was a merciless mistress.

For he knew you were your happiest at his side as his right hand, but he could not understand the reason—it brought harm to your so-called "doorstep," and the workload was laborious at best. But even in this isolated instance, when the crooks of your smile didn't entirely brush the banks of your eyelids, a noticeable ease settled in your bones at the sight of him hunched over a desk. An ease he returned, albeit underneath the veil of his carefully crafted mask.

"The preparations for the cannibalism event are almost complete," you continued, maintaining an unusual manner of professionalism as you handed him a set of stapled documents and receipts. "I just need to receive your approval before sending out the orders." His eyes crossed each section without too much consideration for their actual contents, affirmed in his trust of your intellectual capabilities when it came to outlining critical components of his plans with the ire of a scrutinizing eye.

"Thank you. These will do."

This was usually the time that you would dive head-first into a heated discussion about the latest novel from his collection or scurry off with a courteous farewell to complete the enormous amount of tasks you often procrastinated, but instead, you lingered. Your brows furrowed, locked in contemplation as your eyes stalled on his screens—schematics for his future "trip" to the European detention facility, Meursault. He cleared his throat, which luckily broke you from your daze.

"It'll be weird." You ran your thumbs across your knuckles, teasing at your bottom lip as you shifted from foot to foot. "Moving to a new hideout, I mean." The palms of your hands shifted to skim the dust and grime-coated surface of his barren shelves, toying with the clumps of debris that gathered on your fingers as your mind returned to its baseline. What did your thoughts stray to in times when they left you stranded, out of his reach, as they became more challenging to discern? He could only pray, in some twisted part of his dark mind, that they were a reflection of his own—then maybe those fantasies could be justified.

Outside his internal ramblings, he hummed lowly, acknowledging the truth behind that sentiment. Neither of you shared an attachment to the four walls that surrounded you—it was no home. It held none of the warmth or affection such a term required, though the idea of a home was foreign to you both.

Under those clouded waters, your eyes held a look he both adored and disdained. That muted hesitation had returned, like a criminal stood on trial, unable to utter a word of the truth lest they condemn themself. And you knew too much and said far too little. If you would surrender to your impulses, push him or pull him close so that, in some fashion, his conscience could be alleviated and he could refocus—but it seemed you were stuck within the same cycle of indecision.

You parted your lips, faltered, and closed them again, second-guessing yourself as you fiddled with your fist. But upon further inspection of your nervous disposition, he spotted an object that had been hidden in your back pocket. A book. He raised a brow as you slowly pulled it out.

"You've offered me so much reading material in the past." You handed him the book. Its cover was weathered and cracked; a once vibrant hue faded into a dark, timework brown. The delicate, diaphanous golden letters that spindled across the spin dulled with age but continued to catch onto the fluorescent light. "So I thought I'd return the favor. It's a book I've had for as long as I can remember."

"Poetry?" He couldn't withhold the amusement in his tone. You were such an adorable little woman—his heart squeezed in indescribable fondness at the incredibly fitting genre. The book cradled in his hands was even more charming, if possible. Several translucent tabs and disorder marks stacked the contents of the book, defining a distinct difference from his own analytical annotations. Part of him wanted you to leave sooner so he could delve into the contents away from distraction and be allowed to soak up every delectable notation.

"For wherever you plan to go. I hope you might find some use out of it." Your face softened. "I know it's helped me."

He huffed but knew that he was ultimately endeared. "Thank you, моя дорогая. If you enjoyed it, I'm certain I'll find it an enticing read."

A tremor trickled down your spine at the unexpected sound of his mother tongue. His thick accent sounded like velvet to the ears, but you quickly nodded and sent him the courteous farewell he had initially expected—but he couldn't allow you to leave without answering one more question.

"Which one should I read first?"

You paused, prodding the question around in your mind. The answer you stumbled upon was bold, and you contemplated your choices as your nails methodically drummed across the doorway's threshold. It was a risky choice, but one you had to take.

"Browning's Sonnet 22." Your expression could have locked him there for eternity. "It's my favorite."

And you left. You left, and indecision haunted him once more.

An abhorrent, unsightly torpor flooded within him like the Neva itself, the warmth of the Russian summer smearing any presence of intellect or acumen from his person. His limbs lay heavy from the sweltering heat as the underbrush tickled at his perspiration-laden skin, allowing him a momentary reprieve as he observed the breeze push against the bountiful flora that edged the bank of a creek older than he was in a homeland he had no way to return to.

"Федя."

He roused from the rush that engulfed his body and replaced his idleness, his mind ravenous at the mere whisper of such an intimate, almost forbidden name. Soft hands replaced the roughened roots of creekside plants, trailing his arms until their owner came into full view, beckoning him to lean forward with the purse of your lips.

You were somehow even warmer than the summer sun, and he melted like a tempered candlestick at your sheer touch, lips chasing your own as you drew away with a smirk and a laugh. The collision of your bodies onto the hardened ground drew the breath from his lungs, but he allowed himself to find it once more in your embrace, nose buried in your neck as he resisted the urge to indulge in mortal temptations and simply allowed himself to revel in the innocent embrace.

"Федя," you cooed. Your hands roamed the expanse of his hair, outlining the edges of his nape in a rhythmic motion that started to lure him into a dreamless sleep.

That was until the sensation started to fade, and he felt the familiar stomach-dropping sensation of falling. His eyes shot open as the idyllic naturistic scene dissipated from view to leave a void. Only you remained, but he paled as even you started to fade, reassuring him with a pitiful smile that he had become far too acquainted with.

"I'm sorry, Федя. You'll have to go one without me this time."

Your presence melded until your touch was like the chill of an algid frost—it was like the expiration of a dying star, crumbling in on itself until it rematerializes once more. From dust, you came, and to dust, you shall return. The contact was the biting notion of where and who he was, with every incapability and flaw that marred his flesh. It whipped at his skin, burned at his eyes.

He shook as you slipped through his fingers, drifting out of his grasp as he looked around for something to hold onto, anything to help either of you escape from—

"That must be a pretty good book you've got there."

The blinding aura of his circular cell was not a sight he wished to become accustomed to, the chamber he had been "forced" to occupy with the French prison. And to his utter dismay, it had been the lousy half of the Port Mafia's former Double Black that had stirred him from his waking nightmare, Osamu Dazai. The bandaged man looked like the cat that had caught the rat; his eyes narrowed as if he had finally pinpointed the Russian's weakness. An unseemly smirk drew across his pale face.

"You've been staring at the same page for the past five minutes, Fyodor," the detective crooned, splayed on on his bed with his head dangling at the side at an uncomfortable angle, almost like he wasn't locked in a high-stakes match of chess. "Your eyes haven't moved an inch. Leaves me to wonder what could possibly be so enticing about that book. You should lend it sometime!"

"I'm simply concerned for the well-being of your fellow agents," Fyodor sneered cooly, allowing his demonic mask to slip back on with his signature smirk. "I just can't help but worry for them. I'll be sure to pray for a swift, painless demise."

"Hmm, I'm sure."

But the suspicion of the detective didn't matter. Fyodor had ensured that you had no connections to one another, and your identity was completely erased once you went underground years prior. So, for the time you remained hidden, you were safe, and that terrible concoction of his mind would not come to fruition. You were in the midst of correcting course on any minor deviations from his plans if the smoothness of his operation was a testament—but in other moments between consciousness and sleep, he wondered if you shared these same thoughts. The split seconds that expanded into hours of dreams he wished never to wake from.

He couldn't help but linger on the horrific scenario that cast an ever-present shadow over his every thought. It was a possibility, and he shuddered to think of the notion that it would someday become a reality. But this was his one opportunity, and he wouldn't waste it.

He glanced down at his book. In truth, he wasn't much impressed by the pages anymore. This was one of the many books with copies in his personal collection, but it lacked the vitality he had become attuned to. It had been your book of poems that revitalized him, yet he was unable and unwilling to bring such a valuable item into a place such as this. He would not risk the desperation of his opponent at finding his weakness, nor the capabilities of the Special Division for Unusual Powers in finding a connection to the book's owner—so it was contained somewhere safe and sound, where no one else could find it.

That book had opened a separate world that consumed him, body and soul. But that poem that you had recommended—you were quite the romantic, weren't you? His face had flushed during his first reading and the several times after it, though your annotations were even more telling. But it only made the pressure on his heart increase, and he swore it would implode. Perhaps that was an underlying medical condition of his previous host.

And for the first time in centuries, he wasn't quite sure what he would do when he saw you again.

You dislodged yourself from the rubbled remains of the airport, fortunate to have been located further from the destruction Ame-no-Gozen created. The walls around you stood firm, but the roof caved in from pressure above, leaving only a sliver of room to escape to the intact remainder of the roof. Your hands ached and blistered with every inch of your ascent, halted as you took time to cough out the debris that generously clustered at the bottom of your lungs. You looked utterly worse for wear but couldn't find the time to mind given the circumstances.

After what seemed like hours of excruciating climbing, you made it to the top—but, of course, the fabric of your pants decided to snag onto a metal panel that had stubbornly remained intact.

"Oh, come on," you groaned, sitting down to tease and tussle with the ornery piece of cloth. It had been a restless last few weeks, and you simply wanted to sleep. You huffed as the shrapnel decided to release its grasp on your pants, but as you were about to stand back up, you took notice of the shadow before you.

There he was.

You could recognize Fyodor's striking eyes anywhere, even when he was clad in the attire of a fresh body without his signature hat and cloak, but you found that you didn't care much for the finer details when he was finally in front of you. His presence had formed a vacancy in your everyday routine, and for the first time in years, you found yourself completely alone. Even when there was work to be done and plans to create, the majority of his usual subordinates were killed as collateral—not that they had even been much company. But would you be forced to fall into the same line?

The question nauseated you, but you had known the possibilities when you took his hand for the first time. If there was a time for you to part ways, whether at his accord or your own, this would be it. This was your crossroads. But you knew as you slipped your hand into his, outstretched for you to take, that he wouldn't be letting go. The grip he had held you like it was a sin to part. It seemed your fears were unfounded since when you slipped your hand into his own, outstretched for you to take, you knew he wouldn't let you go. The grip he had held you like it was a sin to part.

You stood with his help, a contemplative tilt to your brow—but you couldn't stand the silence that continued to persist. So, in the echoes of his formulaic destruction, you allowed yourself to breathe. A release of that suspension and hesitation, unfurling your burden as you lifted your aching hands to cup his face, delighted in the widening of his eyes at the unbalanced scale between you tilted to the other side.

"Федя," you spoke, the sensation of the word foreign to your lips. A spark returned to his eyes as if you whispered the secret to raise him from the dead. "Are you alright?"

The wind rushed through him, breath tumbling with the breeze as it coasted along the metal platform you stood from. Despite reason pleading with him to run from your proximity, he instead chose to intertwine his fingers with one of your hands. He pressed kisses into the curve of your palm as he lined every scar and bruise with a tenderness that soothed your aches.

"I am."

He didn't need to utter another word—your brief separation had only strengthened your unified understanding of one another, with each crying gesture serving as the final touch. No more trials. No more secrets. The look in his eyes was one of stories. Eyes that had witnessed every dismal aspect of human nature, both in the past you shared, and in the past he traversed alone. But they had become worthless stories to him; the minuscule glimpses of resolution that had served as a sign from God of the promised end turned into the delusions of a desperate man as he found the reflection of the end in front of him—you. In every step he took since your destined encounter, you had been what he was searching for. His hope. His future. His reality. That fraudulent resolution was no longer at the end of a perilous tunnel but right before him.

You understood that the intimacy of your "relationship," with whichever label others tended to tack it with, could never be shared with another soul. Those voiceless, indulgent whispers and subtle, crinkled smiles were mere productions of your shared devotion. But more so, the hummed resonation of your souls spoke the loudest. They had remained empty for such stretches of time, so neither of you knew what to make of it when you somehow poured from your empty cups into the creation of a fulfilling bond. Your only comfort was the notion that this—this was the reason you were created. For each other.

He remembered the moment he laid eyes on you, the sensation that his long-time friend had turned foe, death no longer a temptation out of his grasp but a certainty he could not shake. Your straightforward disposition beckoned him, and he then understood why he had been made with a capacity for love despite acting as the immortal incarnation of its antonym. He had never once felt a need for fruitful devotion, not to some unseen voice from the skies, untouched by the heart and mind of humans, but instead for the one person who would take his heart to the grave with them.

He was immortal, whether by chance or fate, but it was your ability to shake off the temptations of fear that immortalized you in the end. Never once had you allowed your rift in mortality to halt the blossoming kinship between you, prodding at the walls of his solid foundations until they cracked and eroded over time. Fyodor chuckled—he thought he had a capacity for patience, between you were a godsend in comparison. He was the proclaimed "Demon of the North." The man sent to spread the wrathful will of God across the nations. So it was no wonder he had been so tempted when met with a force of benevolence, one which he had rarely witnessed and never known. He could never claim to be worthy of mortal worship when a creature like you stood before him.

You shivered at the sudden touch of his hands as they traveled across the exposed skin of your waist, soft despite his habits. They traced the contours of your figure like a sculptor transfixed on the finest marble. Time had not been merciful in his centuries alone—but it stilled for this moment. For the moment your lips met, and your odyssey was finally over. The spread of his touch was revolutionary, roaming with a cardinal fervor within this wasteland of human misfortune. It sparked a revolt within your mind—your union was taboo, but nothing had ever felt as destined to be.

The muscles of your face tendered as his thumb outlined the brushwood of your lashes. Your eyes drifted shut in a manner that wordlessly pronounced your insomnolence. He kissed a smile against your forehead as you parted, cradling your face as if you were his world. This was an intimacy that could not be replicated, and his mind shattered at the notion of loss.

"Never wander somewhere I can't follow," spoke the desperate man.

You flashed him a cheeky grin. "You won't be able to leave if you want me to stay."

He leaned in, lips close enough to brush. "I won't leave. Not ever again."

And he dipped back in for another taste, addicted to the ambrosial quality of your lips as he buried himself in the shrine of your arms.

дорогая = dear федя = fedya

TAGLIST: @ruru-kiss @miloofc @osarina @meiluvrr @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @dazaisms @v4mpash3 @coffeeofsamu @just-another-crack-artist @snowsilver2000 @chyozai @justcallmesakira @little-miss-chaoss @himikoslove @osameowdazai @deepseafragments @aureatchi @tirasamu @kelperspelt @squigglewigglewoo @lovesick-fairy @zyilas @ishqani

a fyodor fic! very original for me, i know. nana and i planned out this collaboration months ago, and were luckily able to schedule it for the chapter release. again, please go check out her side of the collaboration! speaking of chapters, that update was certainly something. i'm intrigued to see the further development of atsushi and akutagawa through the end of this story arc, since it feels like they've switched roles in regards to the desperation, if that makes sense. and, of course, it was interesting to see fyodor express such strong emotion in reaction to atsushi, and i'm excited to see it unfold in the next installment! feel free to discussion discourse below :D

#꒰ magazine reads ☕︎ ꒱#read this please. if it’s on your dash #oh gosh muse you kill me every single time.#you know what i just know fedya ADORES YOU. he adores you & your ability to write such good. poetry 😭#& you INVOLVE both talk (hozier) & browning’s sonnet SO WELL & INARTISTICALLY #<- I DIDN’T EVEN EXPECT THE LATTER BUT ohh my your mind !!#i always have classical in the bg whenever i read your stuff bcz you simply match the compositions’ brilliance #i’ve read his daydream scene thrice since last night i’m actually WEEPING. 😭 </3 #a man such as him in the confines of europe’s top-security prison + in front of his no.1 enemy YET HIS MIND IS DWELLING ELSEWHERE ON US.#actually shattered at the reverie & the intimacy & the ending & the accuracy of ur characterization when he faces dazai once again #(this was totally not my favorite part)#THE MEETING IN PRESENT 🥹#the revelation of what he was seeking all along was framed so beautifully i don’t even have words rn #‘he was immortal…but…that immortalized YOU IN THE END.’ WOW.#expect an essay somewhere else soon bcz i’m not done but #I ALREADY KNEW IT WAS GOING TO B GOOD FROM THE FIRST LINE.#i’m so in love w/ this TRULY this was a present #& hello i am beyond honored you thought ?? of me while writing ?? :’))#likewise whenever i write him too miss mentor 🙂‍↕️#fyodor x reader

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anundyingfidelity · 8 months ago

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AFFECTION — Soldier Boy

Summary: During a mission, Soldier Boy receives a hug from you unexpectedly. He likes it.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female supe!reader.

Word count: 0.9k

Warnings: canon violence and language, reader is kinda hurted, descriptions of blood and stuff, AU where Ben is working with the team on missions (which is what should've happened on the show btw), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy lmao, Ben and reader are totally opposites and I live for that. Based on this post.

Note: soooo I'm still making some arrangements to my Soldier Boy long fic and instead I have this short drabble in the meantime. Hope you enjoy it hehe.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

(if anyone would like to be added to my tags just tell me^^)

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

You groanned, feeling the hard wall hit against your back. It was hard to believe but you thought probably you wouldn't go out of this alive. Your body ached and not even your strenght could stop this guy.

Fucking Butcher, why did you have to follow him to suicide again? Just a couple of cunts, he said. But he forgot to mention they had a weird improved dosis of V injected.

You fell to the ground as the man walked towards you. He was extremely tall and well-buff. No sense the Compound V on his system made him better, or at least that's what he thought. He was tossed to the ground by your side, and you crawled to the corner of the small room.

The distance was not enough to let you run away. You stayed there, watching Soldier Boy's big frame over the man. He used his shield, beting him to death and destroying his face and neck during the process. You were so damn sure his loud groans of pain would remain on your mind at least for a couple of days.

"Fucking pussy," the old man said, wipping some blood off his face. He got on his feet ungracefully and grabbed his shield back. He turned to look at you, still sitting on the floor. "You okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

He held you a bloody hand, which you took to stand up. There was an akward silence as you and Ben left the small room, you followed him around the dirty basement, filled with lifeless bodies and fluids on the ground, to meet with Butcher and Hughie.

"Guess those were all," Butcher announced.

"I have the remaining dosis," you took the tube from the pocket of your pants and showed them with a smile on your face. "Was the last one."

"Excellent," Butcher grabbed it and tossed it to Hughie, who saved the tube on a bag.

"We made it out, huh," you mumbled.

"Well, we're still down here, so," Hughie shrugged and three pairs of eyes narrowed at him. "What?"

"Just think positively, for once," you pleaded with a fake sharp tone. "Isn't that hard, y'know."

Ben rolled his eyes.

"We're on a fucking shithole, the kid's right. Let's go now before any of you fuck this up," he ordered and passed by between Butcher and Hughie, hitting his shoulder intentionally in the process.

You quickly followed behind his long soldier strides. "Wait!"

Soldier Boy scoffed and closed his eyes slowly only to open them again. You stood on his way with a big smile and wide eyes. Bruises and blood adorned your face and neck, your clothes were also splattered with dry blood and dirt after killing those clandestine stupid supes on an undercover mission at night, and still you acted like nothing had happened. He stood in place, with Hughie and Butcher standing behind expecting what the fuck you'd be doing this time. Sometimes he thought you were so fucking annoying.

"The fuck you want?"

You opened your lips to say something but nothing came out. Once you closed them, you beamed again and closed the distance between him and you. You wrapped your arms around his strong waist and rested your grubby check against his chest. He tensed visibly under your hug and after a moment you pulled away, your hands behind your back with a shy smile. Hughie and Butcher were clearly holding back a good laugh. They knew better not to mock Soldier Boy, not yet though.

Ben blinked a couple of times, trying to process what happened.

"What the fuck was that?"

You giggled. "Affection."

He wrinkled his nose. "Disgusting."

You gasped and faked sadness on your voice. "Why? I was just saying 'thank you for saving my ass'."

"It's fucking nothing," he rolled his eyes and started to walk again to guide the team outside, with the other two men with playful smirks on their faces following behind.

"Ben!" you quickly caught his pace to stand by his side. "Thank you, okay? Probably you don't like physical contact but I do. And this is how I show others that I care about them and that I'm thankful. I also give hugs because I like them and–"

"Shh!" Ben raised his hand, suddenly stopping his tracks by the end of the stairs that'd lead you outside. He turned and looked at you with that grumpy face of his. "I said you're welcome, sweetheart. Now we need to go, you can talk to me about your hugs shit later."

He pointed to Hughie and Butcher. "Now, you, cocksuckers, go up."

Butcher grinned, going first. "Sure, cap."

"You shut up," Soldier Boy warned, Hughie gulped and nodded, and made his way up on the stairs.

You stood there, with a smile on your lips. Always that fucking, idiotic, stupid smile, even after hard missions like the one you just had. It was like if you were the only one who didn't seem scared of him or anything else. Sure, you were a supe and a smart asset on the team. But still, a very peculiar lady through his eyes.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Once Butcher and Hughie were out of sight he finally talked.

"Do it again."

"Excuse me?"

"The stupid hug, do it again."

You raised your eyebrows, eyes bright as you realized his request. "Really?!"

"God, woman. Do I need to fucking repeat my—?"

His words were cut by your strong hug. You crashed against his frame so hard he lost balance for a bit. He was certainly surprised by how warm your hug it actually felt. You angled your eyes to see his face.

"Thanks!"

You let him go and got up the stairs. He barely curved his lips at how happy you climbed them. Yeah, well he actually liked your stupid hugs.

soldier boy / reader

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy x y/n #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys series #the boys fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy fluff

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anonymousbardd · 9 months ago

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Character Headcanons

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: My Man

↳ Various x FemReader

The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Gongseob Ji.

ʚɞ ┊: Gun Park

↳ When he first heard (F/n) call him "my man", because a random girl was drooling all over him, he couldn't help but think about that moment every night before sleep.

'Cause of that, he's been a bit more affectionate which isn't really his thing, this confused his lover a bit but hell she ain't complaining.

Now whenever Gun teases (F/n) he'd say something like, "Come help me out with work, after all, I'm your man, aren't I?"

And now, Gun repeatedly asks what he is to (F/n) whenever they make love in front of the mirror.

ʚɞ ┊: Goo Kim

↳ When Gun had asked what Goo means to (F/n), the blonde man was eavesdropping and was surprised when he heard his lover response.

"Goo...? He's silly and well, goofy, but even so, he's still my man."

He got so excited and came out from his hiding place, catching the young woman off gaurd.

"Cutie piee! I'm your man?! You called me your man!" He kept repeating it over and over again.

(F/n) had been smothered in gifts and kisses the next few weeks after.

ʚɞ ┊: Samuel Seo

↳ It was just a normal kissing session between the two in Samuel's office, it was getting spicy when someone had knocked on the door.

Samuel pulled away and cleared his throat while (F/n) fixed her blouse, Samuel then sighed and let the person who knocked in.

It was a young girl who seemed to be nervous to be there.

"Uh-uhm... Mister Goo Kim wishes to see you..." She said, (F/n) huffed and crossed her arms.

"Tell him that my man is busy and will get to him in a bit," she said in a stern voice.

The young girl nodded and left the room, Samuel turned to (F/n) and chuckled, "Your brother's going to kill me, you know."

(F/n) rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Samuel chuckled and kissed (F/n)'s lips, before Samuel even got the chance for his lips to reach her neck, Goo came barging in with a sword in his hand ready to remove Samuel's existence.

ʚɞ ┊: Jake Kim

↳ It was a lovely day, Jerry and (F/n) were playfully claiming Jake for themselves.

"Sir Jake belongs to me!" Jerry said, "Nuh-uh! He's mine!" (F/n) argued, Jerry and (F/n) had a sibling like relationship.

They continued to argue like that for a while.

"Humph! Sir Jake is my boss!" He said, "Oh yeah? Well he's my man so let him go!"

Once those words left the young woman's mouth, a grin crept on Jake's lips, the other members who were in the same room stiffened as the atmosphere tensed.

Jake turned to (F/n) and leaned down, "What did you say? Could you repeat that please?" He said.

The young woman shook her head and let go of Jake, "I-it's nothing..! Forget about it!" (F/n) turned to Lua in hopes to get away.

Jake held the young woman's wrist and dragged her out the room, "Come now, I want to hear you repeat what you just called me in bed."

ʚɞ ┊: Gongseob Ji

↳ (F/n) would rather be caught dead than to call Gongseob her man, she's still in pretty much denial phase that the young man had taken interest in her.

Though she slowly started to warm up to him, she still wanted to keep their relationship a secret.

The typical good girl x bad boy romance.

(F/n)'s friends had noticed how close Gongseob is, or rather, how close Gongseob tries to be with (F/n).

Eventually, they asked (F/n) what Gongseob is to her.

(F/n) paused and thought for a moment, then, a random girl was talking about how hot Gongseob was.

(F/n) huffed and crossed her arms, in a loud voice, she stated, "He's MY man, Gongseob Ji is MY man!"

It was loud enough for the girl to hear, and for the passing braided man to also hear.

"Oh-ho ho? You're finally admitting it?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around (F/n)'s waist.

"Humph! Shut it," she replied, still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips.

She then shot daggers on the girl who was overly complimenting her lover and stuck out her tongue.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#lookism #lookismoneshot #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #gongseob ji #lookisim fanfic #samuel seo #jake kim one shot #gun park oneshot #goo kim #lookism headcanons

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krispycreamcake · 4 months ago

Note

yeeees! Please go for the headcanon!!

From author: Was secretly wishing you'd send this 🙏🏼

If you killed someone in the Sakamaki household

Shu Sakamaki

🎻- Honestly just like every other brother, it heavily depends on who was killed

🎻- If it was Reiji, he'd be ecstatic, kind of

🎻- His relationship with Reiji is extremely strained and that's without him even knowing about him "killing" Edgar

🎻- He'd be impressed that you managed to kill someone like Reiji which initially makes him extremely wary of you

🎻- His immediate reaction to finding out would be disbelief but then escalate into one of satisfaction

🎻- He'd probably say something along the lines of "What would that woman think if she knew you died by the hands of a mere mortal, I wonder?" And cue insane laughter please

🎻- If it was someone less relevant to him, then I'd say he's the type of guy to not care until he actually sees the body dressed up and ready to be buried

🎻- Now I'm not saying he'll go into grieving or anything, but it'll actually hit him that his brother is in fact dead

🎻- Now for his reaction towards YOU

🎻- That's a completely different story

🎻- Like I said before, his reaction would differ and if you really did manage to kill Reiji, he'd be ever so grateful but he'd never say it. Ever.

🎻- He'd probably be curious though as to what drove you to killing him, or any of his brothers for that matter

🎻- He'd analyze the situation in his mind and pick out the flaws that led to their demise

🎻- Realistically he'd care but not for too long. Give him about less than a week to get accustomed and he'll be fine

🎻- He'd never underestimate you again though, he'll make sure of that

🎻- If it was Yui however, then that's a lot more complicated

🎻- If his relationship was well developed with her, you'd be dead, without a doubt

🎻- If he was still in his almostgivingafuckbutnotreally stage, he wouldn't care a lot

🎻- He'd be kinda irritated that you killed his prey though and then Karl would just send another troublesome woman to bother him

🎻- But like I said, if he really did start to warm up to Yui or was already warmed up, you'd be dead in an instant

Reiji Sakamaki

☕- Surprised and concerned

☕- This may honestly seem like a shock to some people but Reiji actually does care for his brothers and has stated that he enjoys living with them

☕- Going off of this information, we can assume he'd be at least a tiny bit distraught even if he doesn't convey it outwardly

☕- Like Shu, he'd want to know your motives and additionally, how you even managed to do such a thing

☕- He'd honestly miss their presence and picking up after them. He would probably cope in some weird ass way

☕- Maybe he'd start writing letters to them and keep them sealed away somewhere extremely safe

☕- Initially, his face would go 😨 and then you'd have to deal with him mourning

☕- He'd probably avoid you realistically until he has thoughts in an order

☕- This process can take either a day or a month depending

☕- God forbid it was Shu that was killed however

☕- Once again, cue insane laughter

☕- Seeing your lifelong rival die is something I'm sure is hard to process

☕- I'm not saying he wouldn't be relieved that his good for nothing brother died, especially since it meant he was now the oldest and had more opportunities opened up to him

☕- But as much as he does hate Shu, it's still his brother and at some point in their lives, they weren't rivals

☕- Now I'm not saying he'll be even slightly upset with his death but

☕- Actually let me backtrack a bit

☕- Imagine hating someone so much because all they do is show you up without having to do anything and in a second, they're gone

☕- Reiji would almost throw a tantrum

☕- Their relationship can be comparable to Joker and Batman in a sense

☕- Let me elaborate on that for a second

☕- Building your life around a certain person and making sure you come out on top no matter what

☕- Having the very reason that you're the person you are today, be ripped away from you is something that's always hard to process whether your relationship with them is negative or positive

☕- Reiji needs to feel the satisfaction of killing Shu so he can translate onto him the years of pent up rage and resentment and pain and hurt and jealousy

☕- Killing Shu would mean to Reiji that you took away the one thing he could've owned for himself without being overshadowed

☕- If you take away the very thing that makes Reiji, Reiji, then he'll lose the foundation for all his successes in life

☕- If you killed Yui however, obviously death

☕- I feel like I shouldn't have to say it each time, but expect to die in some twisted malevolent way

☕- Let's say he didn't have that bond with Yui, he'd still be pissed

☕- Probably lock you in the dungeon without food so you could "understand" the extent of your crimes

Ayato Sakamaki

🏆- Ok so I'm not sure how many people know this, but Ayato is the most sympathetic of his brothers, I'd go as far to say even empathetic

🏆- Now I'm not saying this makes him a morally good person and whatnot, or that he'll cry everyday and bring flowers to his brother's grave, no

🏆- We learn that Ayato is actually quite understanding and sympathetic when he states that he understands why Cordelia did certain things and even pitied her

🏆- With that in mind, it'd hurt him, a lot

🏆- We all know Ayato is one to wear his heart on his sleeve no matter wherever or whoever

🏆- He'll be outwardly upset but that doesn't mean he'll be seen mourning

🏆- To break it down, he's the type of person to stare at the empty seat in the dining room and can't help but realize that chair will always be empty

🏆- Or he'll realize that he'll live long enough to forget his brother's voice, sometimes stand in front their bedroom door, not saying anything and then walking off

🏆- He'll notice how the living room feels slightly bigger when there's family meetings and how he'll never get to shout at that person again

🏆- Due to him being conditioned to being number one, he'll have extremely mixed feelings

🏆- As a competitor, the game isn't fun without other opponents, even if it's a game you know you'll win because then you coming first means nothing

🏆- Dying or in this case, 'dropping out the race' would make Ayato stop running for once and look back at the other players

🏆- That's if it was someone he wasn't as close with

🏆- Now let's say you killed Laito for instance, he'd have quite a different reaction

🏆- He would actually mourn his brother but never let anyone see him

🏆- His relationship with Laito is complicated but not an enigma

🏆- He feels as if he owes Laito something from not being able to help him in his past

🏆- Knowing that he died meant that he failed as a brother

🏆- If you killed Laito out of self defence, he'd be upset that his brother was dead but not because you defended yourself

🏆- Like I said earlier, he's the most understanding and sympathetic

🏆- If he could go into the shoes of the woman who abused and made his life hell

🏆- He could understand why you did what you did

🏆- If however it wasn't out of self defence, like Reiji he'd need to take a while to compose himself

🏆- He'd wanna know why and how and then just sit on his bed not knowing what to feel

🏆- He'd be upset at you if that was the case and you'd probably have to work to regain his trust again(if you want it)

🏆- But like I said, still the most understanding, so he had a feeling you might pull something like this if you started getting pestered too often or showed signs that you weren't doing okay

🏆- And oh God if it was Yui, yeah you're not coming out alive and I know I've said this like 2 times already, but let me be clear

🏆- You will wish he killed you

🏆- Prey or not, taking something that belongs to Ayato is never ever a good idea

From author: Guys it's 2am, I'll upload the other brothers tomorrow I promise, just please don't kill my family. (Ps, I love you guys❤)

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celesthysaturn · 3 months ago

Text

Note: Meme, rant, Headcanon Yandere, One shot Yandere

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Even though my obsession with yanderes is just my favorite entertainment in my world of fanfics and ASMR so I can escape the reality where there is no one who loves me intensely and even fantasize my darkest desires without guilt, I'm feeling very stressed about life that I take. I barely sleep or even eat properly besides my precious coffee in the morning ☕ (I lost a lot of weight because of this, which is not normal).

So, deep in my heart, I wonder what it's like to have a yandere in real life who was so obsessed with me that I was his priority and treated my health and well-being as if it were the most precious thing he needed to take care of. .

So, if he sees my current situation, I think he would go crazy 🤭

Dude, I almost passed out at school because I hadn't eaten or slept in days, besides, I study during the day so and I'm still doing an internship, I'm definitely going to end up being admitted. I think he needs to come help me immediately

Do you also feel tired and needy? So here's a Yandere Headcanon for you 🫵

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who are shocked when they discover that you are slowly killing yourself (or rather, have stopped taking care of yourself) and see that your mental and physical health is eroding because of the life you have decided to lead

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who see no other option and now they themselves will have to take care of you for you, and so, they finally decide to kidnap you.

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes will make you completely dependent on them for your new life routine and even your basic needs. This means that they will bathe you themselves, dress you in comfortable and climate-appropriate clothes, cook and feed you in your mouth, make you take medicines and vitamins, take you punctually to medical appointments, blood tests and therapies (or perhaps they will do the exams themselves). Oh! Don't forget the main thing, lots of love and affection even if you refuse ♥️

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who will suffocate you with lots of affection, kisses and hugs, or at least, will try to demonstrate their great love for you in soft and attentive touches, looks and ears that are totally helpful to what you do and will talk to you every night how special you are to them, how precious you are

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes that after 3 months of extreme care, he finally feels more comfortable letting you do your basic needs alone, but with their supervision, but you will still continue to live with him, you will only be able to leave for a while limited and will not allow you to do something that is not good for your health such as sleeping late, eating a lot of junk, accidentally hurting yourself, walking barefoot, otherwise he will go crazy once again and the whole childcare routine will start all over again

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Everything is so peaceful, my body feels relaxed and fresh as if I had taken a delicious bath and received a massage right after. As I lie in a soft bed, on warm, clean duvets and pillows in a silent, soft environment that smells like chamomile (when was the last time I cleaned my room?), everything made me stay in the position I'm in for hours and with eyes closed to relax in this very pleasant moment, maybe I should even go back to sleep.

For a small moment, I seem to have finally escaped my daily problems and routine, as that infernal alarm clock hasn't gone off yet... wait, where am I?!!!!!!!!

I finally realized why everything is so good...

"Good morning, sweetie. How's my sweetie feeling?" The stranger appeared at the bedroom door, which had been open the entire time, and walked towards me subtly as if approaching a fragile and injured animal. Soon, he sat on the side of the bed I was on and placed one of his warm, wet hands on my forehead.

"Your body temperature is normal, your face looks healthier, and your dark circles are gone. It seems like you rested very well, I feel so relieved!" Giving a sigh of satisfaction, and then he placed a kiss on my forehead with that same hand gently grabbing my chin with his thumb on mine. He kept his loving, soft gaze on me.

"Where am I?" My question was automatic, I didn't know if I remained paralyzed or jumped out of bed to run towards the bedroom door that had been open the whole time, suspecting that he was watching me since I was still sleeping, or was already prepared to attack me. rock when I finally woke up.

It wouldn't do any good anyway, since he would have locked all exit access to the outside and would already be prepared for any attack or kidnapping outbreak.

"You are in my house, or rather in our sweet and cozy home that I have prepared for us for the rest of our lives from now on."

"H-What do you mean? What's this story?"

"It's for your own good, Sweetheart, I couldn't bear to see my baby having such a hard and unfair life on the outside..."

"You should't..."

"No, honey, it's YOU who shouldn't do this to me. I believed that you could be independent and take care of yourself while I finished all the plans for us to have the dream life when we could finally move away from this society and all the tiring life and stressful while I would take care of everything to support and protect our home and you would be my beautiful homely wife and totally spoiled by me." He paused, panting after his harsh speech, and slowly calming down. Now, his welcoming expression now seemed like a frightening and overbearing father/mother. "But after I saw you killing yourself to have a minimally comfortable life, I will have to take this position and you will live the life I prepared for you and me from now on."

So, he got up, walked out of the room and then, within a few seconds, came back with a bowl of soup, glass of water and pills all on a tray. I was too shocked to react.

"Your stomach must be empty after you slept so much and ingested all the sedative I gave you." Sitting once again on the bed, now, even closer as he places the tray carefully on his lap, his right hand taking my cheese again with his thumb on my cheek with a firmer grip and the other hand dipping the spoon into the vegetable soup and lifting it towards me. His loving and welcoming gazes were even more intense.

"Now, my Sweetheart, be obedient and open your mouth ♥️"

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Note: Don’t forget to drink lots of water and get plenty of rest 😉

#yandere meme #yandere headcanons #yandere oneshot #yandere fanfiction #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere obsession #obsessive yandere #yandere husband #yandere wife #yandere love #yandere male #yandere female #yandere x reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

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erii-ya · 10 months ago

Text

‘If it’s you….’ Part 1

Killer x FemReader

Sypnosis: You're one of the Strawhats, and after hearing the news about your captain being caught and imprisoned by Kaido, you join Raizo in infiltrating Udon to save him. There, you again met the man you've been obsessing with for a long time since you saw him for the first time in Sabaody. However, you discovered what happened to him, and you sure as fuck won't let it slide. No one's messing with your Milý and gets away with it.

WC: 2,333

A/N: One Piece is the beautiful creation of the genius Eiichiro Oda-sensei. It has heavy *spoilers* for the Wano Arc since the context revolves around Udon Prison. Please remember that the flow of the story is just a fantasy in my head, and English is not my mother tongue.

☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎☕︎

Luffy was defeated by Kaido and was imprisoned in Udon. Raizo, a member of the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance that your crew was a part of, plans to infiltrate the Udon prison to save him, and you won't pass the chance of joining in. The plan was to enter the prison, find Luffy, and escape as quickly as possible before anyone could find out.

That WAS the plan.

But since Luffy is your captain, plans sometimes work differently than intended. You've got stuck in Udon with the person you're supposed to save, and Raizo is nowhere to be found.

"You're not even going to give me something to eat?!" Luffy whines beside you.

The escape plan failed, and Queen, who ruled the prison, forced Luffy to join a Sumo match he started for entertainment. So, both of you fought the whole day.

"I'm hungry..." his stomach growls on cue.

"Shut up and go to sleep!" says one of the Beast pirate members guarding you three while staying in the makeshift arena.

You shot a glare at him, hoping he'd drop dead only if shooting daggers could kill. You saw him shudder and quickly turn his back on you. 'That's right. Be scared. 'cause once I get the chance, I'll dice you all into fine pieces.'

Luffy continues to whine about turning into a mummy by the next day if he doesn't get something to eat and you can do nothing but sit quietly. Old man Hyo stepped closer to him and apologized for being a hindrance on the escape mission.

"Don't worry about it, gramps," you stated. Putting both your hands at the back of your head. "It was the captain's decision, and honestly, it'll leave a bad taste in my mouth knowing that we left you behind." you finished. Old man Hyo clenched his fist. He was still visibly guilty and probably blaming himself, thinking it was his fault you and Luffy couldn't get out of there on time.

"But still, Y/N-dono, you could've gotten awa-" You shushed him, waving your right hand, gesturing to stop. "It doesn't matter now, is it? It wasn't that bad. I haven't beaten people up for quite a while, so it's a fun time." You grinned. The old man looked at you unexpectedly and shook his head in defeat.

"Strawhat..." He called Luffy. "Why do you still want to fight Kaido? Knowing that you lost to him once already?"

As if on reflex, the Beast pirates around you all turned towards the three of you after hearing what the old man said. Curious to know the answer. Your captain got annoyed and released a wave of his conqueror's haki to knock them all down. He then proceeded to explain the four emperors of the sea to the old man and that Kaido was one of them.

"I'm going to become the king of the pirates, so I have to take them all down." Luffy finished with conviction.

You smiled widely. You've heard it countless times, but the ecstatic feeling it gives you doesn't get old. It brought back memories from before you became an official part of the crew.

*Flashback*

"Oi, Y/N! Join my crew!" you almost drown yourself in the glass of water you're drinking to the sudden outburst of the guy beside you. Whipping your head towards him with furrowed eyebrows, giving him a look like he grew an extra head, you retorted, "And what-in-the-holy-meatballs made you think I would want to play pirates with you? More or else BECOME a pirate?!".

"What? It'll be fun, I swear!" raising his right hand as if to promise. "Sanji's the best cook, and you'll enjoy all the dishes he'll serve! We can even have different eating contests occasionally.", he babbled.

Just thinking about it made you salivate.

Tempting…

It's really, really tempting...

But… "No, Thank you!".

As much as you're tempted by the idea of eating the 'best' dishes this Sanji person can cook, just thinking about living with a diverse group of individuals on a ship and floating for days in the vast sea made you cringe. You're okay with being alone, going from one place to another since social gathering is not your cup of tea. Being alone gives you freedom, not to mention the peace of mind of not causing trouble to anyone. Aside from being a petite woman with a huge appetite, you have no exceptional talent to boast. You only have an appetite that surpassed even this guy’s, the reason he lost to you in this meat-eating competition where you met.

Standing up, you gathered your things and swiftly left the place without turning back. You thought that was the last time you'd see the guy, so you brushed it off as an uncanny encounter. 'He's a pirate, so they'll probably leave this island immediately.' you forethought.

Boy, were you wrong! Because for the next couple of days, you always 'coincidentally' bumped into each other, and a series of back-and-forth barrage of why you should be joining his crew and why you shouldn't would always start. And the rest was history…

*End of Flashback*

You’re unsure if it's his persuasion, hidden charms, or just him being Luffy that you finally said 'Yes' to join his crew. Whatever it may be, you surprisingly never regretted it.

Your trip down memory lane was cut short when a mud-like entity appeared behind old man Hyo. It was Caribou, and on his stomach was Raizo, much to the old man's surprise. Questions were fired at the ninja, and he happily answered and explained to the old man what had been happening.

What was awesome was when Caribou stole Queen's share of Red Bean Soup!

"Fucking food finally! I was already thinking about chopping one of the Beast pirates." you nonchalantly said, which earned you weirded-out looks from Raizo, Caribou, and the old man. "Relax.", you said. " 's a joke.", and you smiled innocently at them. They can only nervously laugh at the awkward atmosphere while Luffy, knowing you, just laughs off his head.

************************************************************************

The next day, Kaido shared some news with Queen. Komurasaki, the famous Oiran of the flower capital, died. Queen was devastated and hurriedly commanded to hook up the light-scroll snail to confirm the news. Your team, on the other hand, was so eager to start the sumo match.

"Did you idiots gain weight from yesterday?!" Queen was astonished. Eyes popped out after seeing Luffy and the old man, all plump and round than they were yesterday. 'Stupid captain,' you scratched your head in annoyance. 'I told him to eat only enough to regain his strength. Not to the point of bursting!' The beast pirates probably know by now that Queen's casserole of Red Bean Soup was missing, and the culprits are not too hard to guess.

You pinched the bridge of your nose like it would help stop the upcoming headache. "I also think finishing all that soup was too much. I'm surprised he survived this long as a captain." Caribou muttered. "Well, that's Luffy for you." is all you can say.

The light-scroll snail was rolling, showing a place somewhere in Wano. Queen was frantically looking for any signs or news about Komurasaki but to no avail. The view was changed from one place to another until it showed a scene where Zoro and Sanji saved a little girl.

Both you and your captain's face lit up. You excitedly run towards the arena, propping yourself up to stand behind your captain and to get a clearer view of the scene. Everything happened so fast, and now your crew was all in combat mode. "Go get them, guys! Kick their dirty asses!" you cheered even though they won't hear you. Arms stretching upwards.

Queen looked at you and asked if you knew the green-haired man shown on the screen. It was Zoro. ‘Shoot!’ You should have remembered. You shouldn't know that you knew them as part of your crew's disguise. The excitement of seeing everyone again and in action had you slip the crucial details in your mind. Luffy turns to you with knowing eyes, and you both 'tried' to deny the fact. Lips pouting, eyes looking elsewhere in an attempt to lie.

Unfortunately, you two sucked at lying, "It's too obvious, you liars!" Queen hissed. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you couldn't care less about the consequences. To hell with the disguise! Everything was already fucked up since the escape mission failed. You’re almost at your limit anyway, and the itch of wanting to go wild is growing stronger by the minute. You focused your attention back on the screen instead. You have already decided that when all hell breaks loose in here, that’ll be your cue to go on a rampage. But for now, you’ll simply enjoy watching your friends break some legs.

In your peripheral vision, you saw one of Queen’s underlings approach him. You used one of your hidden skills to make out whatever he’s reporting.

Ultrasonic hearing.

Sounds cool, right?

Of course, it is. After all, you put so much effort into naming this skill in another fancy way to mask the truth that it was only talent in picking up gossip. So helpful in hunting new delicacies.

Kidding aside, you heard Babanuki speak about a criminal arriving soon from the Flower Capital. Queen seems not to expect any new prisoners and is curious about who they might be.

Not long after, Udon Prison's main gate opened, and more of the Beast pirates walked in. You noticed one of them on a horse carrying a vertical red flag with the words ‘HITOKIRI.’ Queen asked who it was. “He’s a piece of garbage that couldn't complete a mission given by the Shogun of the Flower Capital,” answered Babanuki.

“We have a message from Orochi saying that we can punish him however we like.” announced the man leading in front of the newcomers. “We brought you, Hitokiri Kamazo!” he shouted.

The prisoner started laughing manically, and you turned your head in his direction for some reason. Escorted was a tall man wearing a brown kimono, blonde hair, and a face covered with bandages. The only visible features you’ll see are his eyes and purple-colored lip. ‘Nice fashion sense.’

“Oh, so you’re Kamazo? I’ve heard a lot about you.” - Queen.

The prisoner continues laughing, not giving a shit about what the baboon said.

“We also caught another one,” another beast guy added. “This one was stupid enough to show himself to us while yelling something. So, I shot him multiple times and didn’t even try to run.” the guy laughed.

Much to the surprise so far, the other prisoner turns out to be Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates. He was holed up in the same prison cell as Luffy, and when you’re trying to escape the other night with your captain, he beat you all to it. ‘What the hellhole do you think you’re doing, you Oni (demon)!’ You can’t help but think you’re surrounded with morons.

Luffy called out to Kid. He stood beside you, and you didn’t even notice. The shock on his face after seeing his fellow captain being brought back inside was evident. You turn your attention back to Kid, now kneeling on the ground. ‘Hey, what’s going on.’ Confused by his sudden action, you started to move toward the kid pirate’s captain, but Luffy stopped you. You looked at him, and he wasn’t even looking at you. He still has his attention on Kid. However, his grip on your wrist says otherwise. It was firm enough to tell you not to do anything. Yet.

You sighed, then nodded at Luffy; only then did he release his grip on you. Looking back at Eustass Kid, you saw an expression you never thought you’d see in him. Mixed emotions danced throughout his face, but bewilderment was more prominent.

He spoke to the other prisoner, Kamazo, who was still manically laughing. “Oi, what happened? Why are you laughing?! Stop! I said stop!” tears started forming in his eyes. He continued, “I remember how you hate the way you laugh…” staring at Kamazo but more like seeing a distant memory of the past, “...and you even stop laughing out loud at some point.”

Jerking your head to the side, thinking, ‘I’ve heard this before.’. It was somewhat familiar, but you can’t remember where or when you heard about it.

“Anyone who mocked the way you laughed was easily beaten to death.” - Kid

Then it hit you.

Your body froze.

An unwelcoming chill runs down your spine.

The next thing you knew, your lips moved, mouthing what Kid said, like you knew the next thing he’d say, like the back of your hand.

“Until you started wearing a mask to hide your face.” - You

“Until you started wearing a mask to hide your face.” - Kid

“No shit..” was what followed after the statement came out of your mouth. Blood ran cold, and your hands started to tremble out of control. You couldn’t believe it. You were just guessing and were instead hoping you were mistaken.

Now crying, Kid said, “That’s the person I knew. So please stop.” his tears flowed freely down his face. He’s hurt and in rage, and so are you. Your lips quivered to suppress the waterfall about to burst at the sudden realization. ‘What in the actual fuck…’

“Stop and look at me! What happened to our crew?! What happened to you?! Did Orochi do this to you?! Answer me!” Kid yells back at Kamazo with enraged eyes,

“Killeeeeeer!!!”

Hearing the confirmation made your eyes wide and your body tremble. The person you long to see after a long time is standing a few feet away from you. As much as you want to jump for joy, whatever you’re feeling right now is far from happy nor sad but rage. This is not the reunion you’re expecting to have with him.

“Milý-sama…” you whispered.

Continue on Part 2....

#onepiece x reader #op killer x reader #eustass kid #MassacreSoldierKiller x reader #Killer x FemReader #OnePiece #One Piece Killer

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someprettyname · 4 months ago

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🥁TA-DA!!🥁

Making my best friend i.e @moonlightjo rate blue lock boys just by their looks part 1 (do we make her rate other boys and coaches? Anri?) 😌↕️

no but the ratings are HILARIOUS I've been cackling for the past half hour send help

Her initial thoughts : "Heyyyy. I'll rate them but I have taken an overview and OOF I CANNOT RATE ANY ONE OF THEM LESS THAN 9 OR 10 LIKE WHAT??!??!?!!"

Hehe lmaooo pretty boys they are ikr?!

Anyways.

Let's start this ladies and gentlemen, I'll be using the same photos i sent her ☕💆🏻‍♀️✨

I tried my best to not be partial with the fanarts cough Kaiser cough okay?

Ratings under the cut 😌↕️ texts in purple are my thoughts and that's pretty obvious ik shh

1) Alexis Ness

Cute very cute. But looks like he would ACTUALLY kill me 😭. (Accurate vibe typing pt.1) Like that is a killer smile, literally. (He's just a Lil silly, don't go near kaiser you'll be good ^_^)

7/10

2) Tsurugi Zantetsu

OH MY GOD IDK WHAT I HAVE FOR HOT MEN IN GLASSES BUT OOF. LIKE SIR WHY ARE YOU NOT STEPPING ON ME RIGHT NOW? (He's too respectful for that actually 😔)

10/10. (Yes I'll send her the sauna photos dw)

3) Kurona Ranze

HOTTTTT. and cute at the same time somehow. Looks freaky (that's an interesting vision)...I like it 😏.

8/10

4) Karasu Tabito

OOOOOOOOHHHH. HOTTTTT!!!!! Looks like he would bully me (he has a feet kink by the way 👍🏻 and a voice kink he'd love you lmao) but i would still want him to fuck me so 🤷🏻‍♀️.

9/10.

5) Kunigami Rensuke.

Oooh that is a damn good picture of him. Like he looks so innocent and cute 🤌 (who will tell her? Sigh) but also is SO HOT. I would actually wanna date him. (I'm so proud of my woman.)

9/10

6) Barou Shoei

Looks like he would tie me up in a dungeon....and i would like it. (You would love it, yes. Accurate vibe typing pt2 lmaoooo) Smash all the way dude 🤌.

8/10

7) Shidou Ryusei

NOW THIS ONE LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD ACTUALLY KILL ME 😭. (He would <3 accurate vibe typing pt3) But ik he won't. SO DAMN HOT AGHHHHH.

8/10

8) Chigiri Hyoma.

He is so pretty 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌 GIVING ME TRUE BI PANIC OOF- (again, HOW do you vibe type so accurately. You witch? Pt4)

10/10. (DAMN LILY. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU MY SWEETHEART.)

9) Nagi Seishiro

Ooooohh looking cool, nonchalant. I don't think I have seen a lot of him. Or if I have then not in this outfit. (Yeah guys dw I'll make sure to torcher her with hot nagi panels <3)

8/10.

10) Reo Mikage

Prettyyyyy (yeah pretty gay he is). So many pretty boys on here man. Damn he's wearing chains and shit.

8/10

11) Isagi Yoichi

He's giving main character (he is I think? 😭) Oh he looks like a determined boy. A very beautiful boy.

8/10. (How TF did she even catch that. Accurate vibe typing pt5)

12) Itoshi Sae.

What a gaze 🤌 ENOUGH TO MELT ME UP OOF-

9/10

13) Itoshi Rin

HOTTTTTT!!! Like in this picture he is really giving webtoon Suho.

8.5/10

14) Bachira Meguru

Ooh looks very passionate about his game. (Accurate vibe typing pt6 HOW DID SHE DO IT THIS TIME) Looks like he could kill me. LOVE IT.

8/10 (who will tell her about the demons)

15) The infamous (yes I've pestered her thirsting over him in the past more than once LMAO SORRY) Michael Kaiser.

He is like actually so sexy. Like that is a sexy man 🤌🤌🤌🤌. THE TATTOOS ESPECIALLY IN THE SECOND PIC. So damn hot.

10/10 (chapter 260's waiting for you sweets)

P.S - No offense to these beautiful men. These ratings are solely based on their looks and how I felt about them. The ratings just made sense to my brain when writing it down. They might and will most definitely change in the future I think. And just because I rated someone low doesn't mean I would fuck them....(🤷🏻‍♀️😭)

Thank you for this opportunity. Regards.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Hehe that's it for today ladies and gentlemen, see ya! 😂❤️

[divider from @/enchanthings]

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literatureatthebowofnails · 1 year ago

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AN: I've really enjoyed writing this series. I'm deeply appreciative of all the feedback and reblogs. They've fueled my writing and truly made me thankful for each and every one of you.

Series masterlist

Summary: Our darling couple take the first step toward the rest of their lives

It's a cold November morning and once again FRIDAY is calling your name, dragging you from your precious sleep.

"Nooo," you grumble, nuzzling into Loki's chest and tugging the fur comforter over your head. It collides with his nose.

He snorts, pulling it back below his chin. "I'll take it from here, FRIDAY.

"Darling, you do need to get up." He shifts beneath you.

"No," you whine, your voice muffled by the blanket. "I want to stay like this forever." You reach your arm over his bare chest, squeezing it for emphasis.

"As much as I'd enjoy that," he chuckles, "your absence downstairs could cause significant upheaval. Not to mention the breakdown of our fearless leader.

"You weren't here when he went on his feeble-minded caffeine fast. There are beings in Niflhel far more pleasant than our dear Captain without his 'morning Joe.'"

"But you're warm, and...you smell good, and...and...I love you," you say between yawns, before peaking up at him with a pout.

"I love you too," he smiles and gives your forehead a peck. "That doesn't change the fact that it's Monday and you have to go to work."

You throw off the blankets with a dramatic huff. "Fiiine. I hate it when you're right."

Loki chuckles and grabs a robe as he stands, handing another to you.

☕

First things first when you get in the elevator. "FRIDAY, please preheat the ovens for kolaches and turnovers, then check the A-Team agenda and load orders for whoever's on call to the POS."

You can't fault Tony's design; two separate confection ovens, freezer and refrigerator on a vertical conveyor. The contraption stands in the back of your circular kiosk cafe along with a cooling/rising rack, sink, employee entrance, and ample counter space.

Nearest the lobby doors sit the POS station, espresso machines, grab&go fridge, and pastry display. In addition to base cabinets, there's bulk storage accessible via elevator to the garage level. With a voice command to FRIDAY, a central circle in the floor descends while a safety barrier ascends into the workspace.

Plenty of square footage for three people, and on a Monday you need all the help you can get.

Chrysa clocks in with a muttered "Morning" as you're reviewing the Avengers' order:

Medium red eye, black - 'Nat's home from her mission and there's a morning debrief.'

Large dark roast with a shot of DynaPep - 'Tony, apparently trying to kill himself after a night of post-mission "tinkering."'

Extra large cup of Joe, extra cream and an order of mixed pastries - 'Steve got his run in and feels guilty about the early debrief.'

Small cocoa with cinnamon and extra whip - 'Peter's going to be late for school. Really, Steve needs to put that kid's education first.'

Medium Dutch apple pie a la mode latte - 'Thor, making his way through the seasonal menu.'

Extra large dirty chai - 'Scott just got into town.'

You notice a distinct lack of Earl Grey with excessive honey - 'Loki went back to bed. Dick.'

The next few hours are busy, as to be expected. They have you, Chrysa and Dementy rushing around, baking, steaming, and ringing up customers as quickly as possible.

Things begin to slow by 9:30, and around 10 Wanda wanders down in sweats and clogs, a maroon hoodie covering her unbrushed hair.

You start on her turek as soon as you see her. "Hey, what would you like for breakfast? And weren't you supposed to be at the debrief this morning?"

"Hmm...a pumpkin muffin," she smirks. "I popped my head out, told the kid to keep his mouth shut, and bewitched Steve to think I was there before going back to bed.

"I'm not getting up after three hours sleep just to tell Steve everything went as planned."

"What about Nat and Tony?" you ask.

"Stark sent Mark 93 and Nat doesn't sleep half the time anyway."

☕

Wednesday afternoon finds you at a boutique with Nat, Wanda, and Hope, who's visiting for the annual gala. The latter, focused as always, has chosen six sleek, black, barely differentiated dresses and hovers with them hanging over her shoulder while the rest of you decide.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we met," you say as you hold a one-shoulder gown against yourself in the mirror.

"You should try that one on," Nat says, her sultry voice soft but insistent. "It has been a year, hasn't it? So this is a particularly special gala. Is that why you're only looking at dresses in Loki's colors?"

You grin down at the gold taffeta. "Partially. It's more a feeling he's going to do something especially dramatic? I don't know what, exactly, but I haven't seen him this cagy since my birthday. He sent half the people in Times Square to his pocket dimension because I turned down the street before the flash mob was in place."

Wanda snickers.

"You're kidding!" says Hope.

"No," Nat replies, "There was a huge fallout when Steve got back from his 'emergency mission.' Something about 'We don't know if pocket dimensions are safe for humans...that's abduction...what if someone had gotten hurt?!'"

"And don't forget," adds Wanna, "'If you're so concerned, Rogers, I'm happy to send you in there to create safety protocols. We could all use the break from your incessant nagging.'"

☕

You were going to spend Saturday lounging around the flat until you needed to get ready, but Wanda had different plans. She insisted you and the rest of the girls all have a spa day. Thus, in the late afternoon you're stepping off the elevator on your floor with goodbyes to Nat, Shuri, Wanda, Hope and Pepper.

You open the door to find Loki already dressed and pacing nervously in the front room. His curls are raked in lines from the many times he's run his fingers along his scalp. "Loki?" you say. He freezes like a child caught sneaking candy, a hand shooting to his breast pocket before he takes a breath to steady himself. "Is everything ok?"

"Yes," he attempts a carefree smile. "Of course, darling, everything is wonderful. I...uh, I was just concerned you might not make it back in time to get ready."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his ironically poor lie. "You do realize we don't have to be downstairs for another two hours, right?" Cupping his cheeks, you pull him down to kiss him. "Whatever it is you're so nervous about, I promise it will be ok. God or not, no one is perfect, and I'm not going anywhere."

He calms a bit. "Right. Well, I'm just going to, ah, see if Stark needs any help getting things organized." He checks his pocket again before rushing out the door.

You do your hair and makeup, wandering around the bedroom in only shoes and panties as your gown simply isn't bra-friendly. You're unhooking the dress from its hanger when you hear the front door open.

"Great timing," you call out. "I'm going to need help with this zipper."

Loki enters the room. "Ravishing as always, darling," he grins at your bare chest. "I could help with a lot more than your zipper, you know."

"Says the god who was worried we'd be late?" You smirk.

"Right," he chuckles. "Let's get you into that so I can get you out of it later."

☕

The event space is nearly unrecognizable; Tony's modern minimalism nowhere to be seen.

The chrome columns are covered in black silk, green velvet held against them in sandglass form by thick gold cords. Grand chandeliers twinkle from the high ceilings, alight with five thousand candle flames. A brass quintet sits atop a raised stage opposite the bar, the dance floor spread between them.

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd help Stark," you smile, nodding at the decor. "It's very you." Standing on your toes, you give his cheek a peck.

"Thank you," he takes a steadying breath. "Shall we, er, have a drink? Perhaps some appetizers? Oh look! There's T'Challa and Shuri catching up with my brother. Why don't you join them while I find us sustenance."

You wander over to the group, letting your anxious lover gather food. "Hey," you greet, lightly grazing Shuri's shoulder as you siddle between her and T'Challa.

The king greets you with a tight hug. "It has been far too long. You have to come visit us in Wakanda.

"Okoye keeps talking about getting a Starbucks, but I told her there's better coffee to be had from international sources."

Thor lights up as his brother joins the group, handing you a cocktail and a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Are you ready?" he asks Loki, a shiteating grin on his face.

"Will you desist?!" Loki says through gritted teeth, attempting to surreptitiously stomp on his brother's toes.

You pop a stuffed mushroom in your mouth and pretend not to notice while you listen to Shuri describe her latest invention. As your discussion of the device begins to dwindle, you hear the opening notes of a familiar waltz.

Loki clears his throat, his hand extended. "May I?"

You take it and he leads you to the dance floor. You can't take your eyes off him. His floor craft is perfection as together you dance smoothly through the other couples.

You know not just the steps, but how he'll take them, making reflexive shifts in your footwork to blend precisely into his.

His hands are comforting as he holds you, his natural scent like burning pine and fresh snow. His vibrant green eyes are full of awe of you and the glowing adoration reflected on your face.

When the song ends, he spins you to the center of the dancefloor. Your skirt settles and you find him kneeling as he holds your hand and a stunning emerald ring.

"Darling," he looks at you with batted breath. "Will you do me the honor of being my princess?"

"Loki, oh my god! Yes, yes, of course I will. Nothing could make me happier!" As soon as he slips the ring on, you pull him into a fervent kiss and the band strikes up the wedding march. You know that wherever you are, so long as you're with him, you'll be home.

Taglist:

@peaches1958 @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog @cakesandtom , @ladymischief11 , @km-ffluv , @coldnique , @glitterylokislut , @eleniblue , @lokiprompts , @lokisgoodgirl , @muddyorbsblr , @princess-ofthe-pages @jennyggggrrr

Let me know if you wish to be added or removed

Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Now that it's complete, I'll be focusing on party asks. I hope you all take some time to join us and participate in this event! All my love 💗

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki #loki smut #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x female reader #fic rec #loki/reader #14 doses of delirium drabble series #my writing

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kararisa · 2 years ago

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marigold promises

— 22. look me in the eyes [☕︎ = 0.6k words]

Attending classes in Lawrence Hall is a daily occurrence for you, but today you walk towards the building for a different purpose. Today marks the first day of your training for the annual regional competitions.

Loath as you are to see a certain someone, Tighnari had informed you that he and a friend of his would be your teammates for the science segment, so you’re holding out hope on the possibility that today might be peaceful.

The moment you see Albedo reading a book on the staircase brings you back to reality.

Working with the person who hates you more than anything will prove to be difficult (or inconvenient at best), but you were always one to step up to the challenge. You’re not backing down just because of some argument.

Albedo glances up and stands up the minute he sees you, making his way up the staircase.

You had come here with the intention of trying to establish one of your temporary truces – it wouldn’t be appropriate to have the two of you fighting over who’s more correct in a situation where you’re supposed to work together. Besides, you certainly weren't going to be crossing a bridge that has long been burnt. Would it kill him to listen to what you had to say for once?

You pick up the pace and make your way toward the second floor, moving in front of him and blocking his way.

He will hear you out, whether he wants to or not.

“I have somewhere to be,” Albedo greets you, his tone void of emotion, “And I’m sure you do too. I would appreciate it if you would get out of my way.”

You cross your arms and scowl at him, “Cut the attitude. I want you to listen to what I have to say.”

He gives you his full attention, yet his gaze is diverted elsewhere.

“I know we hate each other and everything,” you start, “But we’re supposed to be working together. Can we put our differences aside just for this week? Then you can go back to hating my guts afterward.”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to dislike you,” he scoffs, “Fine, whatever makes you happy.”

Albedo tries to walk past you, but you’re not letting him get away that easily.

It was instinctual, the way you grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall.

Even after all that, even after his eyes widen ever so slightly, he still can't bring himself to look at you.

You grab his chin and carefully turn his face toward yours.

"Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, Albedo."

His cold blue eyes meet yours.

And this time, he doesn't look away.

A second passes — Albedo's eyes echo the hatred you yourself felt for him.

No, not hatred.

Envy.

What did he even have to be envious about? All your life you've had to claw your way to get where you are now. You work just as hard as he does, if not harder, yet he always beats you at your own game. The things you excel in, he exceeds.

If anyone knew a thing about envy, it was you.

Your voice is low when you next speak, "You think you're so much better than me. Well, listen up. The two of us qualified for a reason, so you better cooperate. Because we're not just representing ourselves, we're representing the whole school. So let's put our pride aside and work together."

Leaning in closer, you whisper against his ear, "We did it once. We can certainly do it again."

Releasing his collar, you turn your heel and make your way toward Room 208.

You don't bother to see if he follows you; his silence already says as much.

And you're sure he got the message one way or another.

— previous || masterlist || next

summary: it was evident that you and albedo have changed in the five years you’ve spent apart, but you know better than to view him through the lens of nostalgia. with one goal on your mind – graduate valedictorian – who better to stand in your way than the studious, intelligent, ice-cold albedo? one thing’s for sure: he’s going down.

author's notes:

had a friend proofread this chapter and she reacted with five separate keyboard smashes and an "OOOOOOOOH"

still really busy though so it might be a while until the next chapter :(

taglist (i):

@fvkkyu @mintreen @edreee @khyllynnn @xxmirrorballxx @aiikalvr @yaefics @unsterblich-prinz @aequha @alch3myy @lovely-althxa @nei-rinn @cridtiins @zestrya @skylions-den @moriiartt @theother-victoria @sunsethw4 @dazaisfavgf @serossidechick @koiir @lazy-sanns @sweetbunnybunbun @dee-zbignuts @redactedhimbo @yurstepm0m @fanfictwarrior @fuyaa @saoiirsee @ireallylikehamsters @elfxiao @whosxangel @kitsuvil @orionicchaos @blurr3db3rry @semi-orangeapple @kunikuzushiit @atlatcaheart @wrrapedroundmyfingerlikearing @scarafrisbee @lost-wicked-artist @kairxse @elysiasbae @eurekatanya @empathum @tatiratty @zannivrs @mikismusings @sunoo-bby @astolary

— the taglist is currently open! if you’d like to be added feel free to reply or send in an ask! – if your blog isn't highlighted it means i can't tag you.

#genshin smau #genshin impact smau #albedo smau #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #genshin x you #albedo x you #genshin fluff #albedo fluff #genshin modern au #marigold promises smau

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onetailie · 2 months ago

Note

☕ Josie + revenge

I give this whole arc in general a 6/10. Solely because Josie finally showing actual anger about what happened to her is something I’ve been waiting for since season 2.

One thing I can’t get past is how Josie and Melanie ever interact again… not even once and how the writers just pushed her revenge arc onto Mrs doctor Headwood. I think she should have gone through with killing Dr. Headwood purely to giver her a semi-satisfying ending. I despiseeee how the show kinda forgot about what happened to Josie when we could’ve had one of the most tense “reunions” in the show if they ever actually addressed each other once Melanie came back.

Also I have to add how vague the whole experiments in the silo plot line was. What exactly happened in there and why did she come out so angry (apart from the whole blood snatching thing). I can’t forget to mention how it KILLS me that she never found out about the whole Zarah trying to kill her ordeal cause I know the whole forgiveness things would’ve been out the window 🥴

This season’s gift to me however is unhinged!Josie’s revenge rampage so I’ll happily take it.

Thank you for the ask, anon <33

#I’d do anything for angry women #Snowpiercer #josie wellstead #snowpiercers4 #snowpiercer spoilers #snowpiercer asks

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anundyingfidelity · 5 months ago

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OUT OF MIND — Soldier Boy/Ben

Summary: Ben believes he's alone in the lab, that you're just a product of his imagination and insanity. Is not like that, you're more real than he ever thought.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1.3k.

Warnings: sexual content, p in v, blowjobs, handjobs, heavy non-con (such as reader taking advantage of Ben), nudity, some angst, mentions of torture and being unconscious.

Note: *another one* this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon (if it can't be due to the content of this is totally okay tho!) Anyway hope you like this dark piece of crap I had on my drafts because I could never write a long fanfic ever again, I'm taking so damn long to write.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

The last doctor left, metal door closing behind his back, leaving you all alone with the man lying down in a too uncomfortable stretcher, hands and ankles tied.

The doctor's instructions were clear. He didn't care what you'd do to the experiment in the room. No one cared. As much as a scientist you were yourself, you stayed until late, admiring the former hero at your complete mercy, with nowhere to go or a voice to yell for help. Not that he might needed though.

The room was cold as you paced to remain by his side. His chest going up and down, eyes closed as he slept thanks to the dosis of gas you always administered before taking the tests of his blood and getting into the good part: the torture.

Tens of scientists and doctors stepped the lab to test his strength and powers, gifting him of endurance and new abilities along the way. You were one of them. And this was your price for making him indestructible instead of killing him, switching completely the main objective of the reds. You never really talked to Soldier Boy, more than just the silent moans and gasps leaving your mouth when you actually got into business. Ninety nine percent of the time he was unconscious under the effects of the gas, but he did caught you on top of him a couple of times, or just sucking him off until he was hard in your mouth. The only thing further than talking was his green eyes staring at you, just as he woke up from the slumber. But that made it a thousand times better.

With your fingertips, you traced his bare arm. The skin hot against your hand, finding the way up to his muscular chest, and then down his stomach, stopping right above his crotch. Your mind started wandering all over with the past memories of you and him inside that same lab room.

It was wrong, but you couldn't stop.

You've done this countless of times, what was with doing it again? Besides, he was a piece of shit of a man as far as you knew, using women as appliances and then tossing them like garbage once he was bored. You had to have fun too. Your hand went under his pants, softly playing with his shaft, as your free one went to brush away the mess his hair was doing on his forehead, so delicately.

His cock grew hard thanks to your touch, jerking him off smoothly. It only made you yearn for him more, the wetness between your legs increasing as you rubbed your thighs together to feel some friction that could relief you for a moment.

You pushed your skirt up and took off your panties, completely desperate to feel him inside you. But before you pulled his pants down enough to free his dick, ans you leaned down to take the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking him just right to earn a somewhat loud gasp from his throat. You took him deeper in your mouth, soaking his shaft with your saliva and stroking with your hand what couldn't fit.

Just as you tasted some pre cum, you pulled back and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and lining his cock with your cunt, rubbing yourself on his length. You moaned softly sinking down on him, your tight, wet walls engulfing his dick, until your ass met the hot skin of his thighs. His cock twitched inside you as you rolled your hips in slow, deep movements, that soon became desperate. Biting your lip, you unbuttoned your blouse and pushed your bra down. Quickly, you held on his chest with the palms of your hands, riding him.

Soldier Boy brows furrowed, his breathing became unsteady as much as yours. Sometimes he looked like he would wake up in any minute, but he wasn't really able to. The features on his beautiful face used to change as you had your way with him because it was natural, and you loved to be in control. The only thing you'd regret was his big hands not being put into good use because of the restraints around them. You were so close to your climax that you wished he could bury his nails on your ass and mark it red while you're bouncing on his cock. Maybe someday you'd do it the right way. But not right now. Control suited you and you liked being on top anyway, playing with your tits at your own pace as they bounced with every thrust.

His cock met the deepest parts inside your pussy and you played with your clit and your folds, reaching sweet release and coating his cock with your juices. You continued the steady rhythm of your hips, going for a second orgasm, his dick throbbing so hard you would just fuck him until he spilled inside.

You let out a raspy moan as he came, filling you up and triggering your climax again, thighs shaking. You recovered your breathe, feeling his cock softening inside your pussy. His brows went back to normal, but you felt his heart still racing. Shifting on top of his cock, you reach his bearded cheek, caressing his features.

"I wish I could see underneath all this," you mumbled. "But I'm afraid you'll wake up for real and kill me."

You smirked just a little at the thought. Probably he'd just agree to fuck you if he was awake and back to his old self again, not drugged, not put into sleep. He was the perfect toy nonetheless.

But then, his eyes fluttered open softly. He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, watching your face as the bright, white lights iluminated the room. Soldier Boy often believed you were a ghost from his twisted mind, that there was something inside his mind tormenting him to the point he was being used for sexual pleasure by an unknown entity. But your touch, the heat of your body, and your weight over his own told him otherwise. You were fucking real, straddling his lap, with his dick buried balls deep in your tight cunt, tits out and messy hair and lab coat. Soldier Boy groaned, hands clenching into fists.

He spent so much time, decades, inside those concrete walls that there was this primal need inside that couldn't be met. And you were there to make it true from time to time, even if he wanted it or not.

"Good morning, sunshine," you mocked when he tried to free his wrists, but was too weak to do so. "The gas effect is fading away I see."

He grunted as you pulled off from him, climbing down to fix your clothes and putting your panties back. Soldier Boy tried to scream, but his throat was sore; he had to fight the restrains on his limbs, however it was useless. He was so powerless and fragile for a moment.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whispered, putting your hand on his forearm. He looked at you with a mixture of fear and rage. "You're gonna be okay. I always take care of you," you smiled as the stretcher began to shake while he tried to set himself free. "Now don't try it, you're a good boy. Aren't you?"

Soldier Boy groaned like a scolded puppy once you combed his hair with your fingers.

"You've been here for a long time, and no one has ever taken such good care of you as I do," you said, leaning down until your lips were close enough to his ear. "So you better obey me and keep being a good bitch for me."

Once you pulled back, he got the perfect close up of your face before you turned around and left the room, the sound of your heels echoing before the metal door finally closed. In less than five minutes, the chamber was filled with novichok.

Before sleeping again, Soldier Boy knew it was real.

The woman fucking him on his dreams and living nightmares was so damn real.

Soldier Boy taglist

@delaynew

@k-slla

@thesilmarillionblog

@onlyangel-444

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake

@jackles010378

@mostlymarvelgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

@drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves

@believeinthefireflies95

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x reader smut #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles the boys #tw noncon

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bleach-your-panties · 1 year ago

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🔴Request: Kensei turns the tables and gets Shuuhei back with help from Kensei's s/o 😝

----

a/n: lmao, i started this years back and went digging in my docs to find it. y'all are giving me the tea with these requests and it is PIPING HOT, honey☕🍯😂

•the official sequel to this request & bonus material!

🛑warnings: 18+ mdni. exhibitionism, degradation, desk sex, oral (m!receiving), Kensei alluding to a possible orgy, Shuuhei's trauma karma , lmao.

Shuuhei trudged along to the 9th Division Communications Office early one morning after flopping oh-so ungracefully out of bed.

His captain, Kensei Muguruma, had called for an early morning meeting that was mandatory for him to attend.

Why did he have to be the only one in attendance? What about Mashiro?

The certain green-haired woman probably couldn't be found at the moment, so Kensei just gave up and took who he could get, who just so happened to be Shuuhei.

He grumbled silently to himself as he walked along, only lifting his head up to greet a few passing shinigami that said good morning to him.

Once he walked through the door, he spotted Kensei sitting at his desk shifting through some papers.

The white-haired man looked up at him with a small scowl on his face, and gestured for Shuuhei to sit down.

"What did you need to see me about, sir?" Shuuhei asked tentatively, not wanting to get the man riled up for any reason.

Kensei took a minute to respond, which puzzled Shuuhei for a moment.

He was about to repeat the question when he heard a soft but drawn-out 'ah' like someone inhaling a large gulp of air after having held their breath for a while.

'Okay, that's a bit…unsettling…' Shuuhei thought.

Kensei's face flashed from his usual intense look to a more relaxed one, the wrinkles between his brows disappearing for a microsecond before he was back to his typical glare.

"I found a lot of grammatical errors in your draft for next week's issue. Review it again."

He handed Shuuhei the folder with his work in it and the plum-haired male accepted it with an affirmative nod.

"Right, my apologies, sir. I'll take it home and begin revising it right now-"

There was that sound again.

Soft ah's and hm's and then an unmistakable sound that he was all-too-used to hearing throughout his own home.

Shuuhei dared to push himself away from the desk and let his eyes trail downwards and follow all the way from a sandaled foot and up a black-robe-clad back until they met the sight of your mouth latched onto Kensei's huge cock, your nose buried in his soft-looking, light grey pubic hair.

"AH! Oh my God! I-I'm s-so sorry, Muguruma-taicho! I didn't know that you-, I swear I didn't look; I mean I looked, but it was unintentional!"

Shuuhei continued his nervous babbling, bringing the folder up to cover his flustered, tattooed face.

"I-I'm a happily married man!" He decided to throw in there so that he didn't get killed fired.

Kensei sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, but the latter was likely due to you moving your tongue to circle over one of the thick veins under his cock.

"Don't I know it? You say that like I didn't catch you in here fucking your wife on my fucking desk."

"I said I was sorry!"

"I don't give a fuck, just get out and - s-shit Y/N - fix your fucking blunders so we can get this shit published."

"Yes sir! S-sorry again, sir!"

Shuuhei ran out of that office as fast as his legs could carry him. He was moving so fast, you'd think he was using sonido.

"Is he gone?"

"Yeah, and now I can get back to work. That means you can get back to work as well, slut."

"Yes sir, Muguruma-taicho~"

—-

A little later that evening, Shuuhei had finished his revisions and decided to drop it back off by the office before heading to his s/o's division to pick her up for a surprise dinner date.

Big mistake.

"Taichou, I finished those revisions that you asked me to m- OH GOD!"

Kensei had you propped up on your knees on the top of his desk, facing the door. Your mouth was gagged with your white obi and his rope-belt had your wrists secured in front of you while he held your legs apart by the ankles.

Thank God Shuuhei couldn't see Kensei's dick pummeling you from the back, but he could see how the grey-haired man's movements had you and the entire desk lurching forward, not to mention your breasts swaying and bouncing out of your shinigami robes.

"Drop it on the desk there and since you like walking in on me so much, why don't you bring s/o and I can show you how to really fuck a whore."

Shuuhei almost broke his neck turning the corner to get the fuck out of there.

'No, no thank you! She gets fucked pretty well I'd say, and I'd like to just erase the image of your grey pubes out of my head, please and thanks.' He rolled his eyes and huffed, getting the fuck away from the 9th Division offices.

Next time Kensei called a random meeting, Shuuhei would hunt Mashiro down by force and drag her there by her stupid orange scarf if he had to.

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

#kensei muguruma #shuuhei hisagi #kensei muguruma x reader smut #kensei x reader smut #kensei muguruma smut #bleach kensei #bleach scenarios #kensei smut #kensei x reader #💗💗🍡°bleach masterlist #💗💗🍡°anon-chan #💗💗🍡°valued customers #💗💗🍡°requests #divider by cafekitsune

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writeraven · 3 months ago

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FFXIVWRITE 2024 — 01: STEER.

The Final Days were upon us. Meteors falling from the crimson sky, Blood painting the burning land, Weapons out, back to back, Once comrades, now fiends, Surrounded by despair… Will we live to see the next sunrise?

TAGS: [ isorawrites. » FFXIVwrite » 2024 ]

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XIV.

VERSE: Endwalker » MSQ.

STATUS: Submitted; 1 chapter.

GENRES: Draft, Flash Fiction.

SHIPS: Murderomantiques.

MUSES: Sora Amariyo, Yiuno Reine.

NPC: Scions of the Dawn (mentioned).

steer /stɪə/ noun; informal a piece of advice or information concerning the development of a situation.

Counting was never something that Sora Amariyo was good at. Like the chakrams that sliced their ways through the fiends with a blur, her mind was hazy as she kept repeating the same actions over and over again… But there seemed to be no end to these monsters that continued to burst forth, amongst screaming locals scuttering all over the place.

When will this end?

Her arms felt heavier with each swing; her waist was screaming against her lead-like legs that were lagging behind, and she felt disjointed with her body, the world around her…

“Sora.”

A gloved hand caught her spinning frame as she dived headfirst into the torso of someone much bigger and taller. Looking up, she pursed her lips at the muted disapproval on her mentor’s face.

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I know,” Sora huffed, pushing herself away from the Viera. “But there’s no end to this.” She glanced briefly at the Scions, who were also struggling to keep up. Shrugging, she readied her glaives and prepared to make a dash through the hordes…

Only to be stopped again by Yiuno. The latter pulled her aside, just in time for a claw swipe to narrowly miss her hair by a few ilms. Unable to break out of her guardian’s iron grip, she went limp, but not without an angry chirp.

“What is your deal?”

With a sigh, Yiuno finally released the Warrior of Darkness. “I’m not here to babysit you, young lady. Either we work together as partners, or you’re going to get yourself killed in this chaos.”

Sora couldn’t believe her ears (or horns, to be exact). “Do you really think of me as your—”

“Get moving,” Yiuno cut her off curtly, but not without a slight hint of pink on his pale cheeks. “If you don’t want to die just yet, I suggest we save the idle chit-chats for later.”

Support me on Ko-fi — https://ko-fi.com/whyraven. Thank you very much for your continuous support☕

#isorawrites.#— murderomantiques #sora amariyo #yiuno reine #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv writing #ffxiv #— events #— submitted

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avengerscompound · 2 years ago

Text

The Recruit - 17. Clint

The Recruit - An Avengers Fanfiction

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 3131

Warnings: Smut (FFM bisexual threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, tribbing, edging)

Synopsis: When Sam Wilson is set up on a blind date, he doesn’t expect anything to come from it. He is already in a relationship after all, and not just with one other person, but a whole group of them. You never expected to end up working for the Avengers let alone be dating six of them at the same time. Now you’re balancing a new job, a new romance, new friends, and a secret that could destroy a lot of lives if it got out. It’s a tricky balance to get right at the best of times, but when something happens to Steve Rogers it’s up to the people who love him most to get him back.

17. Clint

Clint was a big fan of being in a relationship. He often led with his heart, making calls about people on the fly, running headlong into marriages, and trusting his instincts. There was so much he enjoyed about being with another person. He loved the close bond you formed when you were in love with another person, how they were your best friend and closest confidant. He loved PDA - there was nothing he liked better than cuddling and holding hands, and making out with people whenever they were within reach of him. He loved the sex. Yes, it could be amazing having a random hookup, but he really did love how silly and experimental sex could get when you had the right long-term partner. He loved having company. He loved the potential that romance could be family. He loved the idea of one day being a dad. He loved the act of falling in love.

Unfortunately, relationships didn’t always end up well for him. He loved being in relationships, but he wasn’t always sure he was the best partner. He had been judgemental in the past, to the point it ruined his marriage. He’d cheated on someone he cared about. He doubted himself constantly. Partially because he had made stupid mistakes with people he loved, but also because he didn’t have great examples of healthy relationships and unconditional love in his life. His father had been violently abusive right up until he’d died and taken his mother’s life as well. His brother had ended up turning on him and trying to kill him. Every foster home had been violent, and the circus only provided conditional care. If he made money they took care of him, if not, he was out. Within the circus, he even picked up two more father figures, both of whom tried to kill him at least once.

Yes, Clint loved relationships, but it wasn’t until his current one that he really felt secure in it. There was something about polyamory that just clicked for him. It was weird, in a way, because where some people might find dating six people to be difficult to juggle, Clint just found he got more of the good stuff and less of the bad. There were more people to make out with, and more people he considered his best friends, the sex was way more varied and regular, and when he started getting all up in his head about things he had a whole bunch of people to help him think about things more reasonably. Even this week, when Steve had been particularly short with him since returning from his mission, the others had reminded him Steve had just gone through something big so that Clint didn’t end up spiraling.

Plus he’d fallen in love five times, completely guilt-free.

Now he was falling in love all over again. He loved training with you and felt personal pride when you aced a lesson. He loved when you came to dinner with the group and the little buzz of excitement that wasn’t there before. The buzz that came when you were starting to realize that what you were feeling for someone was real, and there might be a future there. He loved the one-on-one time he got to spend with you, as rare as it was still, when it did happen he felt this instant connection, the way he had with Natasha all those years ago.

It was date night tonight and you’d agreed to spend time with him and Natasha. He was practically thrumming with excitement. He had plans - or ideas that could be plans if you were up for them. He thought you would be up for them. He felt like he was getting to know you well now, and he was sure you’d be just as excited as he was.

“You know I haven’t had sex with her yet?” Natasha said as she watched him get everything ready.

“Well, obviously we don’t have to have sex,” he said. “Twister doesn’t mean sex.”

She laughed. “You’re such an idiot.”

The affection was clear in her voice. Like the word idiot, was a synonym for I love you.

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Look,” he said. “You said it yourself, it’s hard to date someone when you can’t take them out on dates. I want to make sure we do something fun that’s not just watching TV while we eat pizza. She’s moving into the building which will mean it’s easier for her just to come up and see us and do that more chilled hang out, but this is date night, so I want it to stand out.

“And Twister is your way of doing that?” she asked skeptically.

“There’s not just Twister,” he said. “I borrowed Bucky and Sam’s Switches so we can play Mario Kart or Mario Party, and I’ve got tasting platters for dinner. It’s going to be fun.”

She went to look over the food options when there was a knock on the door. Clint was so excited he practically skipped over to open it.

Your face lit up when he pulled the door open and his heart skipped a beat. You looked amazing in the red A-line dress you picked out for the date. Clint thought you always looked great though. Even in sweats with a huge sweat patch on the back, he thought you looked hot as fuck, but he loved seeing the choices you made when there was a date. It told him more about you.

“Hello,” he said, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “You look amazing.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” you said, following him inside. You approached Natasha and she kissed you in greeting. “This is the first two-person date I’ve done.”

“We tend to spend most of our time in twos or threes,” Natasha explained. “I know that must sound strange given we’re all together, but it means we all get to focus on each other as individuals rather than just a hive mind.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said. “Plus I bet it’s hard to find a bed that fits you all.”

“You’re telling me,” Clint said. “Need to contact Hugh Hefner and ask who makes his furniture.”

You burst out laughing and Natasha gave him a playful push.

“Do you want a drink?” Natasha asked as she went to the fridge. “Clint’s a heathen, but he might have some red wine. He definitely has beer.”

“Beer is fine,” you said. “Thank you.”

She went and got three beers from the fridge. “So how’s moving going?” she asked as she handed your bottle over.

“Slow. I’ve given notice, but I need to get my things moved over here and money’s tight,” you explained. “I’d ask my boyfriends and girlfriends for help, but they aren’t allowed to be seen doing that.”

The tone you had used was so light and playful, it was impossible to confuse it for anything other than a joke, but it still made Clint frown. The secrecy was something he wasn’t a big fan of either. Not that he wanted the whole world to know his business, but he also didn’t like having to pretend he wasn’t in a relationship any time he stepped out the door.

“You know there’s money available for moving costs for employees?” Natasha said. “If you book a removalist and take the bill to accounting, they’ll cover it. I don’t remember what the amount is, but I think it’s pretty high. It’s to help entice people to make the move from around the world.”

“Are you sure it would be okay? I mean - I’m only moving across the river,” you asked.

Natasha shrugged. “I think so,” she said. “I mean, you can ask accounting, but we hire the best of the best, and part of that is making sure it’s easy for them to work here. Anyway - speak to accounting. Ask for Lillian. She’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Sorry we can’t help,” Clint said. “I’d do it if there was a way to make sure no one saw.”

“Hey,” you said, rubbing his arm. “It’s okay. I get it. I mean, it sucks we can’t just be like other people, but I wouldn’t want to put the rest of you at risk.”

“We’ll work it out one day,” Natasha said. “I’m sure we will. Eventually, we have just to say; screw it, you can accept us or not, but this is us. But not until you’ve finished your training, and probably not until you feel like this is it for you. Or we all feel like that, I guess.”

You nodded. “I understand,” you said. “Don’t worry, I get to have pretty great date nights, even if we can’t go out. Which brings us to now. What have we got in mind?”

“Oh god, you’re going to love this,” Natasha said, stifling laughter and shaking her head.

“Well, it depends where you want to start,” he said. “I have the stuff to do a fondue sampler and then a desert sampler,” he said. “I’ve got some switches and we can play Mario Party. And I’ve got Twister!”

“Twister?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes!” he said, grabbing your hand. He had thought you’d be excited about it, but when Natasha had questioned the idea, it had made him doubt himself. The fact you seemed genuinely excited made him almost vibrate with excitement.

He dragged you over to the living room where he made space for the game and picked up the box and held it out to you. “You wanna play?”

You laughed and nodded. “Set it up.”

It wasn’t long before you, Clint, and Natasha were tangled up together trying to spin the wheel without fully toppling everyone over. He knew he and Natasha would be good. Natasha was a trained ballerina, and he had been trained in acrobatics. He was surprised by how well you were keeping up given your training was more strength based than flexibility.

Your legs were trembling now as you reached out to spin the wheel. Clint was face up with one leg somehow under Natasha while both his arms were over you. Natasha was basically a pretzel, weaved in and out of both you and Clint. Clint was loving it. Not just how close everyone was, or how he loved to show off his skills, but even Natasha had started laughing not long into the game. He loved seeing her drop her walls.

You reached over and flicked the wheel. “Clint can you see that?” you asked.

“Left foot, yellow,” he said.

“Fuck,” you cursed and slowly started trying to move your foot.

Natasha started giggling. Actually giggling. Clint wasn’t even sure he’d ever heard her make that sound before. It was like music to his ears.

“Come on, you can do it,” Natasha teased. “You just have to get past Clint.”

“I’m trying,” you cackled. “I might have to dislocate my hip.”

“No pain, no gain,” Natasha teased.

It made you laugh louder and that was enough for you to lose your balance, you went toppling over, taking Clint with you, and then Natasha, so that the three of you fell into a pile on the ground together, all laughing hysterically.

“I don’t even know how to get untangled from this,” you laughed.

“Why would you want to?” Clint said, pulling both you and Natasha into his arms.

“Clint!” Natasha yelped. Despite her protest, she wrapped her arms around both you and Clint and nuzzled into his neck.

Clint grinned and kissed her, then turned to you, capturing your lips. One of your hands went to his hair, tugging on it gently, it sent a little shiver down his spine, that only grew when Natasha began to kiss his neck.”

You broke the kiss with him and Clint watched with lust-blown eyes as you leaned over and kissed Natasha. Clint had a whole host of emotions swirling inside him, and they were all good. He was delighted by how much fun everyone had just had, especially Natasha who usually held herself back from really giving in to her silly side. He felt the deep strong love that he’d nurtured over so long with Natasha, and the exciting new love he was developing with you. He felt excited about what seemed to be happening right now, even if it stopped just at the making out. All those emotions mixed and fed his desire and his cock twitched in his pants.

He ran one hand up under your skirt, running his palm over your ass, while the other hand slid up under Natasha’s shirt.

That simple action seemed to switch something on inside Natasha. The kiss intensified, and she guided you onto your back and pushed your skirt up. You lifted your hips and she grabbed the waistband of your panties and pulled them down. When she’d tossed them aside you spread your legs for her, exposing your cunt.

Clint’s cock was only getting harder as he watched Natasha drop her head down and begin to suck on your pussy. You moaned, bucking your hips up. Your hands went to your breasts and you massaged them as you writhed under Natasha’s attention. Clint moved up behind Natasha and pulled her pants down to her knees. Natasha spread her legs as much as she could, and when Clint saw the glisten of her pussy lips he plunged in and began to eat her out from behind.

With his vision now gone and his hearing already muted, he was overwhelmed by the other three. The scent and taste of Natasha’s cunt made his cock strain against his jeans almost painfully. Even with his damaged hearing, he could hear the moans both you and Natasha made and it only added to his own need.

He lapped over Natasha’s cunt, pushing his tongue inside her to taste as much of her tart sex as he could before he started focusing on her clit. Her thigh muscles tightened under his hands and he felt her start to tremble. Your sounds were getting louder and louder and all at once you cried out and seemed to pull Natasha toward you. Natasha moaned and her pussy clenched, drenching his tongue as she came. He sat back and even as you and Natasha panted and rode your orgasm highs, you both stripped off your remaining clothes. Clint followed your lead, shedding his clothing and tossing it aside. As soon as his jeans were unfastened, his cock sprung out and he let out a sigh of relief. By the time he had wiggled out of them, Natasha was on top of you, grinding her bare pussy on yours.

Clint had always been the kind of guy who was super into spontaneous sex. For that reason, just as Natasha had guns and knives hidden everywhere, he had condoms and lube. He opened one of the drawers on his coffee table and pulled out a condom, rolling it on as he watched you and Natasha writhe on the Twister mat. He moved up behind you and grabbed Natasha’s hips, and slid inside her. They moaned in unison as the heat and wetness of Natasha’s cunt enclosed Clint’s cock. When he’d pushed in as far as he could he began to thrust. As he did you ground up against Natasha, your pussy stimulating her clit and making her clench and flutter around his cock. Natasha’s moans got louder and louder as Clint brought her closer and closer to the edge and just when she was there, about to tip over he pulled out and plunged into your cunt.

You let out a gasp at the surprise intrusion, and you arched your back up under her. Natasha ground down on you as Clint started to fuck you hard. Each time he thrust into you, your bodies connected with a wet crack. Natasha wrapped her fingers around your jaw and looked down into your eyes, watching you closely, as she and Clint brought you to the edge.

Just as your cunt began to flutter, Clint pulled out and thrust into Natasha again.

Again and again, he brought you and Natasha to the edge, only to pull out and switch. He was barely keeping it together himself and each time he pulled out of either of you, the whine of frustration that accompanied it made his cock throb.

The fourth time he pulled out of Natasha she looked back at him with her eyes narrowed. “I swear to god, Barton, if you don’t let me come…”

He smirked and leaned down and kissed her shoulder. “What will you do?”

She slapped his hip as he thrust into you again. His apartment reeked of sex. Sweat was clinging to his skin, and your pussy dripped as he fucked you, creating a small pool on the plastic Twister mat.

He pulled out again and thrust into Natasha again. He was right on the edge and he gritted his teeth as he plunged into her again and again. Natasha’s legs trembled and she moaned loudly into your neck, babbling the word please over and over, something he’d never gotten Natasha to do before. He didn’t let up and with a loud cry, she came, gushing over his cock.

He pulled out and slammed back into you, unsure if he’d make it to your release before coming himself. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until you were a squirming mess under him and you arched up, crying out loudly as your cunt clamped down around his shaft, drawing him in deeper. He finally relaxed and let his own orgasm happen. He shoved deep into you as your cunt squeezed around him and came with a deep moan.

As his cock stilled, he sat back, breathing heavily.

“Holy shit,” Natahsa panted as she rolled off you, her arm covering her face. “It’s never been like that before. Not with anyone.”

“Pretty fucking good, huh?” he sighed.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in agreement. “I forgot what else you said we were going to do tonight.”

“I can beat that,” Natasha joked. “I can’t even remember my name.”

The three of you laughed breathlessly, and you forced yourself into sitting. “You wanna have a shower?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. Then I definitely want to eat,” you agreed.

“For sure,” Clint said. “Gonna need to carbo load if I’m going to go again.”

Natasha hit him weakly. “Who said you’d get to go again.”

“The night’s early, Nat,” he said, getting up and pulling her to her feet. He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him pull you up too. “We still have plenty of time for more shenanigans.”

// NEXT

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