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musicalnobody · 2 days ago

Text

Little Secret Ch. 2

General Shepard's Daughter X poly!141 ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 12.3k words ⋆ 18+, explicit ⋆ Read the tags ⋆

⋆ previous chapter ⋆ AO3 link ⋆

Summary: Ghost introduces you to his men in rather unconventional ways.

Tags: Rape/noncon, Kidnapping, the dove is struggling, pov second person, daddy issues, daddy kink, reader is shepherd's daughter, unsafe sex, age difference (Ghost is late 30's, Price is early 40's, Soap and Gaz are mid 20's, reader just turned 18 prior to the story), manhandling, restraints, handcuffs, crying, dacryphilia, humiliation, spanking, fivesome, poly!141, deepthroating, gunplay, breathplay, pet names, squirting, creampie, rough oral sex, no use of y/n, size difference, cunnilingus

A/N: I mainly use their call signs here as they don’t tell the reader their names for security reasons. Price being used because of Ghost’s habit, and Johnny was used in the previous chapter because Ghost is fucking gAY. anyways! enjoy the absolute filth that is this fanfic <3

You take in the woods around you, not used to being able to see the variety of trees and plants that surround you. Ghost is walking quickly through the forest, making the ride not as comfortable as it could be. You want to ask him about the different kinds of creatures around you both, but something tells you that wouldn’t be received very well. The fear that is settling in your stomach is reminding you of the danger you may be in. The house is barely on the horizon at this point, and you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here in his arms, but finally you look forward and you see it. One of those large machines on wheels that you often saw father leave in.

“We’re here princess.” He said gruffly.

You looked at the dark vehicle, the windows not having any visibility in, as two of the doors opened suddenly. You let out a small noise as two men stepped out of the vehicle. One man, the shorter of the two, looked at you and scowled, giving you a moment to study his facial features. He was wearing a bucket hat to cover his brown hair; his mutton chops unruly. He had a bit of a beard, and his piercing blue eyes were unrelenting.

“What have you brought back ‘ere Lieutenant?” The man spoke, watching as you curled into Ghost further.

“Found her in Shepard’s place. His daughter.” He replied smoothly, using his thumb to pet your shoulder as if to tell you to calm down.

That’s when you saw the other one. He was just a few inches taller, electric blue eyes immediately lighting up when he saw you. Shaved sides revealing an untamed brown mohawk, a smile adorning his face.

“Well look at this pretty lass! Shame we sent ye out Lt, I ken ye probably scared ta poor thing half to death!” He said, as he walked closer.

You whimpered, terrified of the men surrounding you. Never would you have thought that you would be turning to the man who captured you for comfort, but there you were, trying to get closer to the masked man, trying to shrink away from the other two.

“You’re the one scaring her Johnny, poor baby is trying to get away from you.” You could almost hear the smirk in his voice. As if he got a sick satisfaction from you attempting to get comfort from him.

“So, he just kept her in there? How come we haven’t figured out about her?” The man in the hat said, narrowing his eyes at you. He stepped closer and grabbed your chin, maneuvering your head to look at him.

“He’s kept her inside her entire life, seemingly didn’t want her to be a target.” Ghost replied.

“How smart, they would’ve eaten her up the second they caught wind of her.” The man mused, letting go of your face. “Give her here, you’re driving.” He said, extending his arms.

Ghost growled lowly before Johnny cut in with a moan “Really? He’s driving? Are ye tryna get us killed?!”

“He’ll be just fine, now get in the back with me sergeant.” He mused as Ghost handed you over, ruffling your hair before walking around the vehicle to the other side.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The ride was torture. The second that Ghost started moving, the man that he had referred to as ‘Johnny’ was all over you. His hands grabbing and groping every part of exposed skin he could get his hands on. Your mewls were only encouraging him further. When you tried to push them off, they simply handcuffed you. Ignoring your complaints about the metal on your skin. It was only when he reached your thighs that he let out a low whistle.

“Damn Ghost, can’t even give her a littl’ bit of dignity?” You tried to squirm away from him as you felt the car jerk to the side a bit.

“Doesn’t deserve it.” He replied gruffly, steadying the wheel again as Price looked at you closely. You were trying to close your legs, stop the captain��s stare from reaching your most vulnerable parts, but the other man wouldn’t let that happen.

“Oh, come on Bonnie, we’ll be much, much nicer with ye” he cooed, forcing your legs open with his hands.

“Ah ah,” the captain tutted, “Don’t be making promises for us, Soap.” He narrowed his eyes at you “Something tells me this little thing will be fun to play with.” He smirked as you let out a small whine. Your brain was protesting the attention of both soldiers, having seen their faces in father’s office as well. You didn’t know where you were going, or frankly thinking, when you kicked Soap directly in the stomach to try and throw yourself towards the door.

You were testing your strength as you slammed your handcuffs against the window to try and break it, moving to try and open the door. Your legs wouldn’t stop moving, no matter how hard they tried to catch your feet flying towards their faces. You heard Ghost bark at you to sit down, but you were running on pure adrenaline. Finally, your panicked brain focused enough to notice the handle to escape, trying to maneuver yourself to pull it.

That was when the car halted to a stop, throwing you into the seat in front of you. Your ears were ringing, not being able to hear what was being said other than the opening of a door. Familiar hands grabbed onto your arms and hoisted you back onto the back seat before grabbing your waist and moving you onto his lap.

“Didn’t your father ever teach you how to behave?” The familiar voice growled in your ear. You whimpered, positive that you were shaking like a leaf. Proving to still have some adrenaline left over, you tried to shimmy your body off his, only to receive a bruising grip on your waist.

“Told you I should’ve been the one to stay back there with her.” He glanced down at you and you tried to look at anything but him, eyes finding the captain instead.

“Got quite a bit of fight in ya, but not quite enough knowledge to realize that you’re outnumbered here.” The captain began. “Even if you did manage to escape this vehicle, which was locked anyways, we would hunt you down.” You whimpered quietly as your eyes flicked to Ghost again, tears filling your eyes at his heated yet cold gaze. Hunger consuming them. “Ghost here would have more than a field day chasing you.” He mused, watching as you tried to scoot away from the behemoth of a man, who had let out a low growl at the statement.

Suddenly, a whine that wasn’t your own cut in, “Gaz is going to wonder why we’ve been gone for so long; can’t we just knock her out?” The man, Soap, was being impatient. You let out your own panicked whine as Ghost laughed.

“She’s already been put through that once, Soap. I don’t think the poor baby wants to be put under again.” He replied, watching as Soap’s face fell.

“That’s no fair Lt. I wanted to fuck her when she was all loopy.” He frowned. The way they were talking about you without your input had you squirming and whimpering, scared to speak up for fear of punishment. You were no stranger to sedatives, father using them on you quite often when you didn’t behave, but theirs were stronger. You could tell by the way your body still felt like a heavy weight; the drug having worn off hours ago yet still affecting the pace of your thinking.

Ghost grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him once again “Should we put you under again sweetheart? Watch as your cunt gets all loose for all of us?” He cooed, watching as your eyes widened.

“Please, please no! Don’t wanna be put under again!” You sobbed, tears starting to fall down your face. The captain had a wide smile on his face, petting the side of your face and wiping away your tears as he gently shushed you. Ghost on the other hand was as stiff as a board, maintaining a tight grip on your waist.

“Soap, I swear to God if you don’t turn around and start fucking driving, it’s going to be you who’s being torn apart.” He finally spat out, tired of just sitting on the path. Soap whistled lowly,

“Fine, fine, we got about 20 minutes. Keep ‘er satiated.” He said as he started driving again.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

After what you could only assume was around 10 minutes later, you reached a “main” road. A road that was still gravel, but one that actually had a street name and not just a path that had been gone over so much that the grass didn’t bother growing back anymore.

“Alright doll, time for your favorite part.” Ghost whispered lowly in your ear. Using one arm to keep you in place as he grabbed a familiar black piece of fabric from one of his pockets. Tears instantly welled up in your eyes, shaking your head back and forth quickly as you registered just what he was about to do.

“No, No please, I don’t—”

“Nobody cares what you want, sweetheart. Can’t have you tattling where we’re stationed.” He said, blunt words only making you cry harder. The familiar black cloth was placed over your eyes, Ghost tying a tight knot in the back as you felt Soap turn onto the road.

“We got a whiny one on our hands, huh Ghost?” You heard the captain say, back to acting like you didn’t exist.

“Oh, more than you know. Poor little thing wouldn’t stop fighting and begging me to stop. Thought she would’ve learned by now where that gets her.” It’s like you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“She’ll learn eventually, we’ll find a way to get to her.” He replied as you felt his hand pet your hair, twirling his fingers in your pigtails. You wanted to snap at them, to scream at them that they were wrong, but you didn’t want to know the consequences they would give you.

By the time the Scotsman had chipped in that they were here, you had lost track of the turns that had gotten you here, truly and utterly lost. There was no hope of you being able to run back home, the long drive having proven that father had placed his house deep in the woods. Your tears had stopped by now, the ever-present wetness on the fabric still remaining.

You hear the doors of the car open and brace yourself, worried that Simon will manhandle you out of the car with him. Instead, the sound of the door beside you is heard, and you feel slightly hairy arms against your thighs and shoulders. A different man has picked you up. You whimper slightly, once again scared that this man will be rough with you. But rather than receiving a harsh grasp or prod, you receive small pets with the man’s thumb on your knee.

“Here bonnie, I’ll carry ye till we get inside.” Soap purred, his chest rumbling as he spoke. You simply whimpered in response, clenching your fists a couple of times. You were surprised by his gentle action, scared that it was just to get you comfortable. As you heard the other two men get out, Soap starts walking. You can’t help but wonder what your surroundings look like, the want for the removal of the blindfold overwhelming your suspicions of Soap’s previous actions.

Finally, you hear one of the men use a keycard and a door opening. When Soap enters the building, he sets you on your feet, grabbing your arm so that you don’t go anywhere.

“Walk.” Ghost demands, before you feel one of Soap’s hands nudge you forward. You’re in a hallway; you can tell by the way their voices echo off the walls. But then they have you turning, and you become just a bit more unsure. There are other voices growing near, and it doesn’t sound like a few either. It sounds like a cafeteria. The very thought makes you want to turn around and run, another small whimper escaping your mouth.

“Did you really think there weren’t going to be other soldiers here princess?” You heard Price say, chuckling to himself. It’s like you could hear the smirk in his voice and you hated it. As the voices got closer and closer, your breathing picked up. You had hoped that it would go unnoticed, till you felt a warm hand caressing your back, trying to even your breaths. Finally, you came to a stop. Uh oh.

You heard the squeak of the door before your ears were hit with the sound of chatter. There had to at least be 15 to 20 soldiers there. You were suddenly well aware of your short dress just barely covering your ass. How you were being paraded around like their property around this base. You had to stop yourself from crying, feeling the tears welling up. Soap pushed you through, his kindness seemingly coming to an end, and suddenly the chatter quiets down. Whispers start emanating throughout the room, giggles and chuckles can be heard, and you’re just stuck, walking slowly through the room at the pace Soap decides.

You can only hear parts of the whispers, something about a new toy, the mission, how there weren’t any survivors. You swallow, almost pulling Soap along faster before he pulls you back.

“Behave.” He growls lowly, and you start to feel as though Soap may not be as nice as he initially seemed. His once playful attitude seemed to disappear in front of the crowd, and the only thing you wanted to do was run. You finally, finally reached the end of the room, and entered what you could only assume was another hallway. The second the door shut behind you, a violent sob was ripped through your throat.

“I hate you! I hate all of you! I hope you d—” you were cut off by a gloved hand around your throat, a small scream coming out of you.

“You want to complete that sentence doll face?” Ghost muttered in your ear. You shut your mouth, letting out small cries. You could tell he was in front of you, could feel his faint breath through his mask. He let go of your throat slowly, caressing your jaw before you heard him step back.

“That’s what I thought”

And with that you were being pushed forward again. You only walked a little bit further before Soap stopped you again. Pulling you back before grabbing your other arm and rotating you to face what you realized was a door, hearing it open. The door sounded heavy, and when it closed, you jumped. But yet, you had to keep walking.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally blurted out, worry dripping from your voice.

“Just down this hallway love” Price says, and you can tell how dense the walls are by the way the walls suck in the sound. You’re screwed. So utterly fucked.

Soap once again pulls you to a stop and turn you. You hear someone messing with their keys before you hear yet another very heavy sounding door being opened. Soap nudged you forward a little harsher this time, and this time you knew you were at your final destination. The door closed with a weighted thud, and your breathing starts to pick up again, fear coursing through your veins.

“Awe, ta little bonnie is scared.” Soap cooed, fingers tracing your spine causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You cursed the men in your head, of course you were scared! These men who were at least twice your age, the captain looking to be only a few years younger than your father. The only one you would say to be just a bit younger would be the Scotsman that still hadn’t released his grip on you, looking to be in his late twenties to early thirties.

You hear someone walk behind you, resting a large hand on your shoulder before bending down to whisper in your ear, the scruff of a beard tickling your face.

“My my, what do we have here.” Price tutted, smirking as he tugged at the knot keeping the blindfold on your face. The piece of fabric fell, and you fully registered the two men beside you, Soap on your left and Price at your right.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust, the bright lights being a harsh contrast from the pitch-black darkness of the blindfold. Then, you register it. The room is a dark concrete. There’s a table in the middle, straps missing from the holes obviously meant for them. In one corner, there’s three metal chairs sitting vacant. You let out a sigh of relief before your eyes landed on a bed. It was a small metal frame, bars adorning the headboard and footboard. It was also rather small, seeming to be a weird mix between a twin and a full-sized bed. It wasn’t stained too much, but there were some obvious blood stains that had marked their territory on the fabric of the mattress.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, you were stuck.

“Soap, off.” Price commanded, feeling the absence of hands on your body. That is, until Price replaced them with his, once again keeping you in place. You whimpered, not daring to move but wanting to express your discomfort.

“Where is he sergeant?” Price questioned, ignoring your noises.

“He’s on his way, just finished with some training.” Soap responded happily.

Your blood ran cold.

Who was this other one? What were they talking about? The tears that had welled up in your eyes were falling, and suddenly it was Ghost’s voice that chips in.

“Aw, come on lovie, don’t ruin that pretty face before he gets here.” The low growl in his voice is enough to get you to bat your eyes enough to stop the tears from rolling down your face any further. Small sniffles have Price gently kissing the side of your face, kissing the remaining tears from your face.

“We just wanted to share you with one more, won’t that be okay little one?” Price mused in your ear. Even as you violently shook your head no, he simply chuckled.

“You don’t get a choice, silly girl.”

The door opened and in came a man about Soap’s height, just a bit taller, in his full uniform. You couldn’t see him, having you back turned to him. But you do hear the sound of what you can only presume is a helmet being set on the ground.

“God, what do we have here?” You hear the new voice exclaim.

“Come on now angel, say hello to our guest.” You bite your tongue, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of hearing your voice. Shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut. Price growls in frustration, grabbing one of your pigtails and tugging, causing you to yelp out.

“Say. Hello.” He grunts out, and your eyes fly open.

You don’t want to say anything to the man, so you simply whimper instead. Price seemingly takes it as good enough, letting go of your hair as you hear footsteps approaching. There’s a new man crouching to meet you at face level. A sly smirk appears on his face as he eyes you up and down. You can’t lie; the man is pretty. His face is sculpted like it belongs on a magazine cover, but that doesn’t deter your blood from running cold at his next choice of words.

“Oh, we’re going to break you, pretty baby” he uttered, pinching your cheek before taking his place beside Soap. You tried your best to stay in place, not wanting to move from the spot, fearful of what would come after. But Price is too strong, pulling you along until he sits in the chair, maneuvering you on his lap.

You’re face down, ass up. And you’re suddenly very aware of how short your dress is. You hear a low whistle from the Scotsman as he eyes you, feeling Ghost’s heavy stare as well.

“Think I forgot about how you refused to listen? How you hit my boys?” His voice rumbled through your body; you were shaking by now. You can feel him lift the skirt of your dress, and you let out a scared whimper.

“Count.”

Slap.

You yelped from the sudden pain on your ass, not saying anything from the shock of it.

Slap. Slap. One on each cheek.

“I said. Count.” Price said, raising his voice a tad.

Slap.

“one!” You finally yelped. The pain was growing, Price not hitting the same spot twice.

Slap.

“two!” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

Slap. Slap.

“three, four!” You couldn’t see the men watching you, but you could hear their heavy breathing.

Slap.

You screamed at this one, Price making sure to hit the center of your right cheek, a place he had already hit.

“five!” and the tears that had threatened to spill finally breached containment.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Three in a row was enough to get you wailing as you struggled to keep up with counting.

Slap. Slap.

One on each cheek.

“nine, ten!”

“Hm, you took that so well. I could get used to hearing your screams, angel.” He chuckled to himself, and you had never wanted to run more, not wanting to see what came next.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

He had moved you onto the small bed in the corner. Facing up, you were left to look at the dull grey ceiling as Price set his hat down. You feel the bed dip as he sets a knee on the mattress, hoisting himself so he lands between your legs. You expect prodding fingers but are instead met with gentle caresses on your torso and thighs. He couldn’t get enough of you, his hands trailing higher to play with your tits.

The three other men had pulled up the chairs, surrounding the bed and getting a front row view of the display in front of them. Price was getting more and more annoyed that there was still clothing on your body, even if what he really wanted was accessible. Not wanting to go through the hassle of taking off the handcuffs, Price simply pushed your dress above your tits, letting them spring free. The second they were released there were reactions, Gaz being the one to whistle this time, while Soap simply swore under his breath. Ghost? He was just smirking, basking in the enjoyment of watching his captain do whatever he wants to you, waiting his turn.

You were mewling and trying to suppress the sounds coming out of your mouth, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing them. But Price took that as a challenge. His hands that were just roaming your body instead started focusing on one part. Your cunt.

Eyes shut tight, you could feel his finger travel down your sternum, over your belly, before finally resting right above your clit.

“Please, please don’t” You whined, trying to shake your legs to deter him off you. But the captain didn’t care, he simply continued his trail down until his finger was just slightly breaching your hole.

“Begging already? You don’t even know what I could show you.” He tutted, showing his lack of care by pushing in just a little more, watching as you tried to squirm away from him.

“No, no, no! I don’t want it, I don’t want it!” You cried. You wanted to hope that this man has more morals than the masked man who had taken you earlier, but the more you cried, the more confident he seemed. He pushed his finger in almost to the hilt and this time, it wasn’t much of a stretch. However, you were still sore from the rough treatment earlier, and so you tried to voice your protests, but were promptly ignored by the men around you.

When John fully inserted his finger, you had squealed, his finger pressing up against a spot just a tad more sensitive than everywhere else. When you had looked to the side, you were greeted with Soap and Gaz’ heated stare, the boys palming their cocks through their pants. You made eye contact with Soap, and he moaned.

“Captain please give ‘er more, birdy looks so pretty like this” he whined, and you could swear you felt your face heat up. Ghost had simply let out a chuckle, you watched as he went to weave his fingers into the sergeant’s short hair to scratch at his head.

“Sounds like a good idea to me Captain.” Ghost mused, and Gaz simply nodded. At this, Price let out his own chuckle.

“Alright boys, I’ll give you a show.”

And suddenly there was another finger being forced into your cunt. The captain’s fingers were thick, callouses littering his hands and tips of his fingers. The sensation was overwhelming, the man moving his fingers like an expert, clearly having experience. The tears that had threatened to fall when he shoved the first finger in finally fell, and all Price did was coo at you.

“Oh come on, I know this can’t be that bad for you sweetheart, I can feel your cunt pulsing around me.” If it were a different circumstance, if this wasn’t a stranger with his fingers violating you, you know that his fingers would feel divine. You don’t respond to his comment, pursing your lips together as to not make any noise.

And boy, did he did not like that.

You suddenly heard a low growl, a sound that sent fear to your core, a sound you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. But then you heard a zipper, and the fingers you were so desperately trying to get used to were being ripped out of you.

“Fine.” He spat out “I guess you’ve decided you’re already prepared for me.” And it was at that moment that you understood. He was pissed.

See, John had tried being nice. Had tried to prepare you for his cock like he was sure Simon didn’t, but if you wanted to play like that? Then he would play his games too.

You looked at him as he pulled his cock out of his trousers. Fuck. He had to be about an inch shorter than Ghost was, but the problem was how wide the man was. If you had tried wrapping your hand around it, you were sure that your fingers wouldn’t touch or would at least struggle to. He was thick. And suddenly, you wished you hadn’t withheld your noises. There was some moisture left from when he fingered you, but not nearly enough to warrant the captain pushing in as much as he did so quickly.

You yowled in pain, squirming and trying your best to get away from the cruel man, but alas, he held on tight to your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

John looked down at you, he had only pushed in about three inches if he had to guess, and by the way you were trying to fight him, it was going to be a struggle to get you to take more. He roughly grabbed one of your breasts, pinching your nipple between his fingers lightly.

This had you mewling in delight for once, the rough yet gentle gesture catching you off guard before you could stop the noises from escaping. This had Price smiling, continuing his ministrations on your breasts, switching between the two.

“There you go angel, now you’re softening up for me.” His tone was sickly sweet, almost mocking. His stillness didn’t last much longer as he tried to push in another inch. You writhed your head back and forth, but the glide was much easier than the first push. Comfortable enough that it had Price pushing in yet another inch. This had you squealing again, hearing a gruff inhale from one of the men on the sidelines.

Soap was palming himself through his jeans, the Scotsman swearing at the sight of you sucking in their captain so nicely. Gaz’ foot was tapping relentlessly, the man seemingly trying to stop himself from losing himself to his wants, his hand simply resting atop the bulge in his pants. But Ghost? Other than his eye twitching every now and then, he just had his arms rested behind his head, enjoying the act in front of him.

With only about two and a half more inches to go, you were begging for him to stop.

“Can’t take anymore! I can’t do it, please, please!” You tried your best to reason with them. At that, you felt the captain pull out, leaving just the head in. You breathed out a sigh of relief before crying out at the sudden quick intrusion, John shoving all but the last inch into you.

“Stop!! Can’t,” hiccup, “T-Too big!” Your body wracked with sobs, tears escaping your eyes. At this you finally hear Ghost click his tongue.

“Now now babydoll, you took me. You can take our captain here too.” He said, stare intense on where the two of you joined, watching Price slowly move back and forth.

“You’re a brute!” You all but screamed at him. They ignored your tantrum, the only acknowledgement of it being a harsh finger on your clit. Your back arched off the bed at his movements, and Price noticed, using that moment to shove himself to the hilt. Your tears hadn’t stopped, and at this movement, they picked up in speed again.

“Just relax baby girl, it’ll be okay” Price said sweetly, using one hand to play with your nipple and one to play with your clit, the combination making it easier for him to pick up the pace.

“Captain?” You heard a voice call out; you recognized it. Gaz. It was strained, almost pathetic, you noted. Price simply grunted an acknowledgement, a cue to continue. “Let me use her mouth,” you heard his breath hitch, “please.” He was asking so nicely, your brain barely registering the words before you realized. No. No no no. You shook your head back and forth.

“I’ll bite you!” You tried to growl out, but you sounded like a wounded puppy instead. Gaz just smirked.

“Oh no you won’t. You wouldn’t want another spanking, would you?” He said, walking over to grab your face.

“Think that sounds like a wonderful idea sergeant.” Price grunted out as he tried to keep a slow pace for you.

Gaz didn’t let up on his grip of your chin, instead turning your face to the side. He used his other hand to unbutton and unzip his pants, his bulge staring you dead in the eye. You gulped and whined as Price started to pick up the pace, watching as Gaz went to pull down his boxers.

All these men were cursed. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you looked at the dick in front of you. You couldn’t lie, it was pretty, just like the man it was attached to. But it was also big. About the same length as the captain’s just a little less thick. You kept trying to tell yourself that anything was better than the man in the skull mask, but you couldn’t stop your body from shaking in fear.

Gaz didn’t care. He still guided the tip to your pretty lips, watching as you hesitantly licked off the precum that had collected there.

“Come on pretty girl, suck.” He commanded as he used his hand to guide your head further onto his dick, watching as your lips enveloped the tip. “Fuck, just like that.”

“Her mouth is heaven innit?” You heard Ghost say, unable to see the other two men with your mouth occupied.

“If ‘er mouth is heaven I have no idea what to call her sweet cunt.” Price replied, chuckling lowly as he started to pick up the pace. You whined, trying to shake your head even when it was filled with Gaz’ cock. The pace was maddening, Price making sure to just barely graze your sweet spot whenever he thrusted forward. The hurt had slowly faded away until he had picked up his face, the stretch becoming apparent again.

Gaz pushed forward again, making you take more of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, watching as the man above you fell apart, grabbing your hair harder. When you whined at that, Gaz simply loosened his hold, groaning as you rewarded him by taking it further. By focusing on the man in front of you, you were distracting yourself from the pain between your legs, that was until Gaz properly hit the back of your throat.

You gagged. Hard. And Gaz simply chuckled as he continued to guide your head down. You were starting to panic again, the threat of the lack of air was enough to have you tightening around Price, the man groaning.

“Whatever you’re doing Gaz, keep doing it.” He grunted, “Keeps fluttering around me.” And with that, Gaz shoved you all the way down. Having you choking in a way that had the both of them growling.

“Fuck, I’m never letting you go baby.” Gaz said as he properly face-fucked you. Watching as you squirmed while tears fell down your face. His cock was hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, and you had to beg yourself to relax or else you knew you were going to gag uncontrollably. You wanted your hands, wanted to push both men away, but you were trapped.

Price was thrusting into you at an increased pace but was still holding himself back. He wanted to slam into you, wanted to watch you scream his name, but he wanted to give his boy a good time. Loved watching Gaz use your mouth like a toy. He could feel you squeeze and flutter around him when Gaz was particularly rough.

“C-Captain, I’m close” You heard Gaz mumble, and the tone of his voice had you wondering what the relationship between the two men were.

“You make ‘er swallow Ghost?” Price asked as he stilled his pace in you.

“Took every drop.” He replied, and you swore you could hear the smile on his face, almost like a sense of pride had overtaken him.

“Go ahead baby, make sure she does doesn’t waste a single bit.” And the assault on your throat continued, if not rougher. His pace faltered, the tip of his cock still hitting the back of your throat until he stilled.

You knew what was coming and yet you still whined before it happened. But then all you could focus on was the salty liquid you were being forced to swallow. His cock twitched and pulsed as he came, yet you still tried to continue to suck.

You could hear the man above you fall apart, moans and whimpers escaping his mouth with every rope of cum that hit the back of your throat. You sputtered a bit before being able to swallow everything, making it a point to glance up at him when you were done.

“Did you swallow it princess?” you heard Price ask, and you did your best to nod. Gaz finally giving your jaw a rest by pulling out, giving you a chance to look at Price once again. You watched as the man reached for your face, using his thumb to prod at your bottom lip, “Open.” He commanded. Stunned, you followed his command, sticking your tongue out a little to prove a point. You watched as a large smile spread on his face, glancing over to see that Gaz and Soap shared the same face, pleased.

Your distraction doesn’t last long, the captain pulling your attention again by speeding up his thrusts. Your obedience wasn’t rewarded with a break, instead your obedience has only focused the attention on you more. You can hear Soap whining to Gaz about how badly he wanted that to be him, hear Gaz spilling praises about how magical your lips felt wrapped around his cock.

Ghost, however, was quiet. His gaze was heavy, locked onto where you and Price were joined. You were still trying to get him to stop, pleas of “stop” and “no” still echoing around the room.

“Come on my sweet angel, stop trying to fight me.” He cooed, lightly grabbing your chin, “It’ll feel better if you just submit.” You shook your head back and forth.

“You’re a monster!”

His pace stilled. The room fell into a sudden silence.

“Monster?” The man questioned incredulously, “Sweetheart, I’ve been going easy on you.” He growled, snapping his hips forward as to remind you just how big he was. The tears welled up in your eyes again, already starting to roll down your face.

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting into you with reckless abandon. You were inconsolable, wailing as he thrusted into you with no care for your comfort. His cock was roughly kissing your cervix, the feeling having you try and squirm away from his grip. But suddenly his thumb was circling your clit again, and his hand was pushing on your lower stomach, and without warning your body betrayed you.

The overwhelming feeling was back. The hot liquid fire was back in full force, white dots spotting your eyes.

“You goin’ to cum sweetheart?” You heard the man above you ask, his ministrations continuing even when his face slowed.

“Don’t think she knows what that means, dumb lil thing.” Ghost tutted as he watched. When Price stilled this time, you let out a whine, the fire in your belly cooling down rapidly. “Said she ‘felt weird’ when I was makin’ her cum from my tongue” He added, and you could make out the outline of a smile beneath his mask. You could feel your face heat up, the urge to cover it only stopped by the cuffs. Thick and weighted, the silence was heavy.

“Is that true, angel?” He said, looking down at you with eyes that felt as though they were staring into your soul. All you could do was nod, scared of what would come out of your mouth if you opened it.

“Well now, let’s fix that shall we. You tell me when you feel that warm, fuzzy ‘weird’ feeling, okay?” He said, looking down at you, the question more like a command.

“Y-Yes, sir” you said quietly, but it was clear he had heard when you felt his thrusts begin again. The pace having you whimpering, the small time you two had stilled enough to cause the burn to come back.

But then the circles began again, Price using two fingers instead of his thumb, the increase in pressure enough to have you mewling rather loudly. Your body was building up again, the waves coming and going whenever he thrusted in. He grabbed your hips, adjusting them slightly, and then you were really screaming.

“T-There! I feel it!!” You cried as he slammed into you.

“Yeah sweetheart? Cum for me.” He demanded, and suddenly your back was arching. You could hear a heavy groan above you and that’s when you felt it. The hot liquid coating your walls. The panic was lost in you as your own climax ravaged through your body. Eyes rolling back into your head, you moaned wantonly, cries of “sir” and “captain” pouring out of your mouth. You could feel him rock in and out slowly, your thighs becoming more wet before you heard Price’s voice call out.

“Mutt!” You watched as Soap jumped to attention, tucking his cock back into his pants “Clean her up.” The boy all but squealed, happily trotting over to you. You thought the man was going to pull out a washcloth, but instead, he swapped places with Price. In between your legs. He knelt down, and all of a sudden you were the one squealing, the Scotsman’s tongue lapping between your folds, cleaning up your mess as Price had instructed.

“No more! No more!” You begged as you thrashed, Soap grabbing your hips to steady you.

“We’re just getting started, pretty girl” you heard Gaz say from the sidelines, glancing over to see the man stroking his cock again. Soap just seems to dive in more, tongue moving between swirling around your clit and dipping into your hole.

“Taste so good fer me” Soap panted as he took a breath, swiftly diving back down to continue. You were mewling, gasping, and moaning, not able to hold back anymore, the stimulation so soon after your orgasm leaving you achingly sensitive. The noises that filled the room were downright filthy. The loud slurping of the Scotsman mixed with your moans was a sound Price wanted on repeat. One he wanted to wake up to every morning.

Soap was nothing short of a rapacious man, so entirely focused on devouring you. His face was covered, up to his nose in your slick. The man was muttering praises as he defiled you, telling you how good you were for taking their captain, how he couldn’t wait to take you for himself.

“Please, please! C-Can’t take it!” You tried to tell him, but the man kept going. However sensitive, you could still feel the budding sensation begin to creep up on you again. That’s when you felt it. One of Soap’s fingers, prodding at your hole.

“Come on birdy, sing for me.” He said as he plunged two fingers in you rather roughly, beginning a punishing pace.

Sing you did, moaning and whining, thrashing about as you were pulled closer and closer to your orgasm. His lips wrapped around your clit and suddenly you were squirting all over the Scotsman’s face. The man humming happily as he continued his assault, cleaning you up from the mess you made again.

When he finally pulled away, he looked at you like a piece of prized work. Sitting back on his haunches as he removed his fingers, making eye contact with you as he swirled his tongue around them.

“Ye taste simply divine, pretty bird.” He said, his voice dripping with honey. You could feel your face heat up, the debauched display sending waves through your body.

You heard Price clear his throat.

“Now let Gaz get a turn, mutt.” You heard him say to the man in front of you. Watching as the man’s face fell, you knew full well if the man had ears on top of his head they’d be drooping right now.

“But, but I did so good!” He whined, gesturing to the state of you.

“You’ll get your turn.” You heard Gaz say as the two men went to switch places.

“S’no fair.” You heard him grumble as he swung his leg over the bed. The man in front of you was still dressed in his tactile gear, though his gloves had since been discarded and his pants had been pushed down enough to let his cock free.

He smiled down at you, the demeaning glint in his eyes making you want to shy away from him. His fingers landed on your oversensitive clit, and you yowled. The quick circles causing you to pant in quick successions, the feeling already overwhelming.

You felt his two fingers trail down from your clit to your hole, teasing the entrance slowly before dipping in. Your brain was hazy from your previous two orgasms, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of a third, but it didn’t seem like Gaz cared as he pushed his fingers fully in.

Compared to Soap, Gaz moved his fingers with such precision that it had you dripping. His fingers making you squeal and moan lightly, trying to suppress the noises. When Gaz noticed you were doing this, he pulled his fingers out, clicking his tongue lightly in disapproval. You watched as the man fisted his cock, getting closer to you.

“What are you doing, what are you doing?!” You cried as the man ran his cock up and down your folds.

“Didn’t you hear me earlier, pretty girl? We’re just getting started.” He chucked to himself, the sound dark and reverberating. “You think I’d let you get away without having some of this pretty pussy first?” He cooed as he slid in the tip.

You hissed at the intrusion. He didn’t hurt as much as the captain had, but there was still a little sting from how sensitive you were.

“Fuck,” you heard him swear under his breath, “She’s like velvet around my cock.” He groaned out, running his hand down your stomach. You could hear Ghost and the captain hum in agreement, the low sound of Soap’s whine cutting through as well.

“Don’t want it!” You slurred as you shook your head back and forth. He held onto your waist tightly as he bullied a few more inches into you.

“Oh, I’ll make you want it baby.” He growled out as he bottomed out in one quick thrust. You wailed loudly, the sudden intrusion overwhelming. You had assumed Gaz would be the gentlemanly one, but if you were learning anything, all these men were animals. Letting you adjust was one of the only mercies he gave you before beginning his cruel thrusts.

Tears sprung in your eyes as he chased his own high, the man thrusting into you at a brutal pace. The noises were animalistic. Growls, grunts, howls as he unraveled you. You were convinced you had to be screaming. Fat, hot tears roll down your face, but the noises of pain and surprise slowly and unwillingly turn into pleasure.

“You just look so gorgeous with tears streaming down your face.” The man above you mused, slowing his pace a tad. “I bet we could work you up to take two of us.” And at that your eyes widened, shaking your head back and forth vigorously.

“No, no! I can’t do that!” You shrieked. You tried closing your legs, tried to force the man in-between them out, but to no avail. He grabbed your legs and shoved them apart with a growl.

“Now don’t be fighting me, sweetheart. You know how to be obedient.” His voice was laced with anger, and you suddenly wanted to shrink into a corner, the feeling similar to being lectured by your father. You let your legs go limp, having Kyle grab onto your hips and hooking your knees over his arms as he began an unrelenting pace.

“There you go, there you go, just let yourself be used like our little slut.” He grunted out, angling his hips up and starting to ram into a particularly gummy part of your walls.

“Oh God!” You screamed, waves and waves of pleasure crashing into you, pulling you under.

“Found it.” He muttered as he began to batter at the spot. You were unraveling at the seams, made worse when the man’s hands find your breasts. Kneading the flesh and pinching your nipples roughly in a way that had you mewling and whining. He knows how to pinch and pull at you just right, a gesture that has you rethinking whether or not he really is a gentleman.

“Soap get over here, you have to feel her tits.” Gaz groaned out. The way they were talking about you like an object, a toy, had more tears welling up in your eyes, frustrated. Soap happily perked up from his spot between Price and Ghost, just short of running over. You could feel his eager hands roam your hips and waist before finally focusing on your tits. His hands were a bit smaller than Simon’s having some fat spill between his fingers and he kneaded them.

“So perfect fer us. Gonna be my cock in ye next.” He growled, pinching your nipples between his thumbs, the buds peaked from the cold air of the room. He removed his hands from you, but not for long, grabbing your waist above where Gaz had been grabbing your hips. He maneuvered himself so he was looming over you, and then his face was descending onto your tits.

His lips wrapped about your right bud as his other hand went to occupy the other breast. Your mewls came between moans from the pounding you were receiving from Gaz, the Scotsman switching between breasts every now and again. You couldn’t tell if you were in heaven or hell, couldn’t tell what you did and didn’t want anymore, just lying there and taking it.

You could feel the fire creeping back. The feeling overwhelming your senses yet again. You noted how Gaz had seemed to be able to slide in just a bit easier, how Soap had begun sucking harder on your tits, and how your moans were definitely just that, moans. Not cries or screams, moans. Your body was enjoying this despite the mental battle going on in your head. But that’s when you heard it.

“That’s enough, mutt. He’s going to cum in his pants.” Price cut in. Soap whined. Oh, did he whine. Protesting as Ghost stood up and wrangled the man away from you, unbeknownst to you whispering in his ear about how his turn was coming next, how Soap would be able to please you if he “jus’ waited a lil bit longer.”

With Soap off of your tits, Gaz pulled out, noting your own small whine at the loss. Gaz maneuvered you onto your stomach, once again using his hands to keep your hips up, before sliding his cock back into its rightful home once again.

The angle had you screaming once again, but these didn’t have a painful edge to them. These were, loud, wanton, pleasure-filled screams. Ones that had the other 3 men groaning all over again, Price yet again sporting half a hard-on.

Your face was being shoved into the mattress, the only reprieve being the ability to turn your head to the side, knowing your neck was going to hurt tomorrow. Only further being proven when Gaz used both his hands to grab onto your pigtails, using them as handles to fuck into you.

The boys might as well have gone feral, wanting you in the exact same position but under them instead. The position hurt your neck, having to use your own strength to keep yourself on your knees, but the pleasure was overwhelming. The pain quickly forgotten as Gaz slammed into that particular spot over and over until you were a crying, blubbering mess.

“Please, please! G-Gaz I’m going to—“

“Cum baby, cum all over my cock.” He demanded as pleasure, shame, and pure hatred for the man behind you coursed through your body. You couldn’t believe you had just begged for this man, no matter how good of a time he just gave you. But you didn’t have much time to ruminate on that as you felt hot ropes of liquid coat your insides once again.

“Fuck, you feel so good pretty girl.” He cooed, watching as you tried to recuperate from the powerful orgasm.

“My turn.” Said a voice to the side, and it didn’t even take a couple seconds for the Scotsman to be right at the edge of the bed. Your stomach dropped, you didn’t want his mouth cleaning you up again, remembering just how sensitive it made you.

“No more! Don’t wanna be cleaned up!” You whined, trying to squirm out of Gaz’ grasp. The man let go of your hips, letting them fall to the mattress as he got up, his cock sliding out of you with a small complaint from you.

“She’s all yours.” And you could both see and hear the smirk in his voice.

Soap all but clamored up to the bed with the grace of a large dog who didn’t know his own size. He quickly flipped you over back onto your back, groaning as his eyes raked over your body again.

“God bonnie, yer gorgeous.” He growled, “Gonna make a mess outta you.” Your brain stopped. No. Nuh uh. He didn’t dare.

“No, no more! I’m done, I’m done!” You screamed, thrashing to get away from the man.

“Done? Ye won’t be done ‘til we’ve all had ye, bonnie.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You could feel the tears roll down your face again, before stuttering out,

“I h-hate you!” The acidulous words flying off your tongue before you could stop them. The men growled loudly, instantly shutting you up and making you sob louder.

“Ye ungrateful littl’ bitch. Ye were jus whinin’ about Gaz’ cock.” He spat, venom seeping into his words. He was pissed, beyond angry, how dare his girl be so ungrateful after receiving so much already.

His hands were ripping open your legs before a yelp could even escape them, nails making deep crescent-shaped marks in your thighs. He grabbed your tits roughly, once again digging his nails into them as you cried out. When you looked to the side, you didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t Price smirking at your cruel treatment or Gaz’ heated stare, and definitely not Ghost sitting there glaring at you with nothing short of bitter resentment at that moment.

“Don’t look at them,” Soap hissed “Ye think they’ll give ye mercy? After ye insulted all of us like tha?” He scoffed. “Ye’ll get what ye deserve.” He said as he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing your mouth open before spitting a large wad of saliva directly down your throat. You cried out at his crude action, the sound coming out more like a gargle as he forced your mouth shut, making you swallow it as fat tears ran down your face.

“Aww, are ye gonna cry? Poor littl’ lass, can’t take the consequences of ye’re own actions?” He cooed, the vicious words coming out in such a sweet tone that it left your brain spinning. You were aware you looked a mess, snot running down your face, cum dripping out of your cunt and onto the mattress below, what was left of your mascara from earlier having dried on your face as more tears fell.

It was then that you felt it. That familiar pressure of a cock against your entrance. You shrieked. Loud and high pitched, the Scotsman simply laughed. You looked down and there it was. Almost purple from how long he had been teasing himself with no release. He was just a bit shorter than Gaz, but that wasn’t the problem, the problem was how thick he was. Being just a little bit smaller around than Ghost but bigger than Price, even with the extra help from Gaz’ cum, the Scotsman was met with resistance when he tried to force his way inside.

You screamed. Actually screamed. Loud and long, you tried to call for any help you possibly could, causing Soap to chuckle.

“Why do ye think we brought ye all ta way back ‘ere, pretty bird? Nobody will ever be able to hear your screams.” He said, mirth covering his words. He didn’t care about the resistance, didn’t care about your screams. He wanted in, and Soap was a man who made sure he got what he wanted. He bullied the tip in, ignoring your screams of ‘stop’ and ‘help’.

Your chest was heaving up and down quickly, breaths not coming into your lungs fast enough. It was agonizing, he was just so big. You willed your body to get used to him, but it wouldn’t cooperate, if anything clenching onto him harder.

Soap was a mess, panting like a dog above you, eyes rolled back into his head. The man looked like he was in heaven, like he was God. You cried as he bullied another two inches into you, begging him to stop with every fiber of your being.

“Oh stop your whining, hen. You’re almost there” He murmured close to your ear, the first sign of kindness since you had uttered the words that landed you in this position. It wasn’t until he was bending you at the knees, pressing your thighs against your chest in a folded position, that you truly knew you were going to lose the ability to walk.

He bottomed out in one, painful thrust. Each inch proving to be agonizing, the truth of such being the light red tinge on Soap’s cock. Blood. If you had thought Ghost had gone feral over the sight of it, nothing compared to the man above you right now. The Scotsman had no care for your comfort as he bent you in half, pounding into you with reckless abandon.

“Bleeding all pretty ‘round me, pretty bird.” He whispered filthily into your ear, watching as you tried to use your foot to kick him. The man simply laughed as you did. The Scotsman reached into his holster, pulling out his gun and raising it to your head. “I would advise against doing tha’ love.” He growled.

You were shrieking and heaving in fear, eyes darting between Soap and the men beside you. Gaz’ eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull, a small smile on his face. Price simply looked at you like this is what he should’ve done in the first place. But Ghost? Ghost was lounged back in his chair, and for the first time, was palming himself through his tactical pants. Meanwhile, you were so scared for your life that you had resorted to spilling anything to make the man listen.

“Please! Please don’t kill me, don’t hurt me, I’ll listen, listen to anything!” You begged with the man.

“Oh? Anything?” He cooed as you nodded your head quickly. “Then ye better like my cock, ye better moan like a fuckin’ whore around it.” He said, laughing to himself as he slammed the Glock into your head forcefully, causing you to cry out.

Soap began a slow pace at first, actually letting you get used to the stretch. You were quiet, trying to get your tears to stop by sniffling them away. It wasn’t working. Slowly, you felt him remove the gun from your head, moving it to your clit instead. The cold metal against your skin making you jump.

“Ye want pleasure? Grind against this, sugar.” He commanded, watching as your hips hesitantly started rocking against the metal. Goosebumps lined your skin, fear coursing through your veins, making your heart pound. Within a short moment, you could feel pleasure overtaking the feeling of fear, forgetting exactly what you were grinding against. Small mewls escaping your mouth.

“There we go, now ye feel good bonnie.” He said, scratching the top of your head like one would a dog. He was picking up the pace, and as he did, more moans were being forced out. His cock was forcing its way inside each time, and your body started craving it.

“Please, please! It’s so big!!” You cried out, angling your hips so that the edge of the Glock was sitting right atop your clit. Chasing after your own pleasure also meant you were matching your hips in time to Soap’s thrusts, hitting that deliciously soft spot within you that had you moaning and writhing beneath him. “Soap!”

You miss the way that his eyes glance to the captain, almost a plea to let you in on his name, but the captain simply shakes his head, so he keeps going.

“Ye know baby, I think we should shut tha’ mouth up.” He smirks, “And I know just how we can do that.” You’re whining, you though he wanted to hear those! Told you that you needed to moan around it! But there’s suddenly an absence of metal at your clit, and a slightly warm and wet piece of metal now prodding at your lips. You dare to shake your head back and forth, looking up at him with tears welling in your eyes. But he doesn’t care.

“Suck.” He commands, and you’re left with nothing to do but open your mouth. He shoves the gun down your throat immediately, causing you to sputter and gag. “Come on, wrap those pretty lips around it jus’ like ye did Gaz’ cock.” He said, making it a point to shove the gun just a little further, making it hit the back of your throat. You did just as he said, wrapping your lips around it and sucking while making eye contact with him. His pace faltered before beginning a brutal pace into you. Leaving you muffled with the gun as you tried to whine and moan, the man getting you dangerously close.

You tried to show him with your eyes, trying to plead with him to let you speak. But the man was too wrapped up in his own pleasure, cock pounding into you. You tried getting muffled sounds through to his ears, but that didn’t seem to work either, the man seemed to think you were just protesting the action.

“Mutt, pay attention.” Price barked, “Are you close, baby girl?” He cooed at you from the sidelines, and you did your best to nod. Soap finally looked down as you did that and smiled.

“Why didn’t ye say so?” He said, acting as if that wasn’t exactly what you were trying to do. You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, scared of what would happen if you were disobedient.

He ripped the gun from your mouth as he used it to press on your lower stomach, the feeling hitting you quickly.

“F-Fuck! I’m—” You gasped before moaning loudly

“Cuming!” you both said in unison. A white flash overcoming your vision as you once again feel spurt after spurt of creamy liquid coat your walls. Your body felt broken, spent from having three men in between it.

Nothing comes close to the fear that courses through your veins when Ghost is suddenly standing beside the two of you, looking down at Soap.

“You warm ‘er up properly for me?” You hear him grunt out, grabbing Soap’s chin gently, forcing eye contact. The Scotsman’s eyes lit up as he nodded his head.

“Yes, sir!” He chirped as he slowly slid out of you. You watched as Ghost nodded before Soap hopped off the bed. You squirmed your way into the corner, terrified of the hulking presence that replaced him.

“Awe, are you scared doll face?” He cooed at you, not missing how tears instantly sprung to your eyes. “How about this,” he begins “Daddy will let you free from those little handcuffs so you can be more comfortable, but if you run…” he trails off as his hand reaches to his own holster. “Well, we jus’ wouldn’t want that now, would we?” You shook your head back and forth quickly, tears escaping from the prison of your eyes.

He grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him before flipping you onto your stomach, fishing the keys from his pocket. You finally felt the latch of the handcuffs come free, and instantly Ghost’s hands are around them instead.

“Jus’ have to make sure you aren’t going to try and fight me babydoll.” He said, treating you like a scared animal. He turned you around, so you were lying on your back, watching as you went to cover your chest, Ghost quickly stopping your hands.

“Now, now, let me help you get this dress off.” He said, nudging you to sit up. His kindness was strange. And something about it unnerved you. But for now, you went along it as he guided the frilly dress over your head.

That’s when something snapped, something that had Ghost pinning your arms to your sides as he loomed above you. You whimpered and whined, once again scared of the scenario playing out.

“My turn.” He growled. “Can’t wait to see how much you’ll hate me after this.” He chuckled as if he were making a joke. You tried to fight his grip on your arms, but he was so much stronger than you. He finally lets you go so he can guide your cock to your entrance, and you quickly use the time to scramble away from him, curled up against the bars of the headboard.

“Don’t be like that, doll. Come on, you can take it.” He tried to sound as nice as he could, still sounding condescending. You shook your head and at that he once again grabbed your ankles, this time forcing your legs apart and yanking you forward. Using one hand to keep your legs open and one to guide his cock into you, you were once again screaming for help.

“Daddy! Daddy please no!” You cried, trying to use your leg to kick him and it yet again not working very well.

“Come on,” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “You know you can take it.”

“Can’t! Daddy you’re gonna break me!” You’re gasping for air when you know full well he’s only inserted probably an inch, not even the full tip. The red tinged mess between your thighs does nothing to help the burn as he shoves the full tip in. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, brat.” He spits down at you, clearly annoyed with your behavior. “Your pretty little cunt isn’t used to taking big men like us.” He sneered. Ghost’s eyes were focused on the large tears that were rolling down your face, obsessed with the way it made you look so ruined. You had only taken two inches, still had six and a half to go, yet you were debauched. Crying and whining like you had taken the full thing.

“You really that sensitive?” Ghost questioned, glancing down at you as you nodded. “Fine.” Was his only reply as you felt his arms wrap under your thighs, maneuvering the two of you so he was standing. Pushing you against the wall, he slid you down just a bit further on his cock, just another inch. The noises you were making were music to his ears, but he wanted you louder. He wanted you to be wrecked beneath him.

He achieved that by thrusting all but the last inch in with one thrust. This sudden intrusion had you screaming so loud that your voice died out, successfully shot. Ghost chuckled, using the leftover cum from Gaz and Soap to slide in the last inch. Holding your body as you heaved out sob after sob. Blabbering about how much it hurt. He simply used one arm to keep you against him while the other cradled your head, kissing your forehead entirely too gently for a man who was currently assaulting you.

“You can do it doll face. Come on now, just one more time.” He whispered in your ear, his voice oddly comforting. He could feel you relax and used that as his time to attack. Going from your ear to your neck, he bit down before using both hands to bounce you on his cock at a decent pace. You were holding onto him for dear life, your hands clasped behind his neck.

“Daddy! Oh my God, too much!” You slurred out, head heavy against his shoulder as you lost yourself. You were sure you were broken to anyone else, you would be stuck with these men for the rest of your life.

“Yeah? Too much? I liked Gaz’ idea of getting you to take two” He growled in your ear, watching over his shoulder as Gaz and Soap flashed you a knowing smirk. “Think Soap and I could take your sweet little cunt, watch you fall apart on top of us.” He mused, watching as your back straightened in fear.

“No, no no please no!” You cried out, grabbing the back of Ghost’s balaclava. The man stilled, scared of what you were going to do, once he realized you were just using it as a grip he continued. His pace was picking up, the wet sounds of your fucking echoing throughout the room. He stilled once again as he moved you again, laying you back down on the mattress, still standing himself. Ghost was just a little too tall for you to be fucked on his cock without his hands lifting your hips, so he did just that. Grabbed your hips to use you like his own personal fleshlight.

The feeling was otherworldly, the rough head of his cock catching on each curve and crevice of your cunt. You whined all high pitched and needy and you could hear the men’s ragged breathing in the background. His pace was rough and punishing, moving your body with every thrust.

“God, you’re addicting.” He muttered as he continued his assault on your body.

Ghost couldn’t handle it, he felt like a teenage boy again. Feeling the mixture of cum in you, watching the bruises form on your body from all their rough treatment, all of it was enough for him to want to cum right then and there. But he didn’t. He slowed his pace a bit, using on hand to travel up your stomach to your throat.

“Should we show them just how tight you get around my cock when I choke you?” He questioned as you shook your head back and forth. But Ghost didn’t care, simply starting to put pressure on the sides of your neck. Your whine died in your throat as your air supply was slowly cut off, hands trying to pry Ghost’s from your neck.

“Come on now, babydoll. Show them how you can submit to me.” He cooed, tightening his grip. Your head was swimming, gaze slowly fading. Black vignettes creeping into the sides of your vision. You started to see double, trying your best to get a singular breath in. He didn’t allow it, letting your eyes close and your arms go limp, at the verge of passing out before finally letting you breathe.

When you realized you could, you gulped in mouthfuls, causing Ghost to chuckle above you. You mewled as he played with one of your nipples roughly before crying out again as his hand returned to your throat.

“No more! My head’s all fuzzy!” You whined, but he didn’t listen, beginning the maddening routine again. As he gently put pressure on your throat, you slowly lost the air you had so desperately tried to recuperate. His thrusts picking up in speed, causing your breath to leave you faster. “D-Daddy” You grunted out with the last of your breath, and with that, Ghost tightened his grip, cutting off your air. Your vision was fading in and out as he slowly adjusted the pressure on your neck to allow just a bit of air. Before cruelly tightening it again, watching as your eyes rolled back into your head.

“God, you look so pretty like this, all brainless for me.” He groaned, watching as you once again went limp, cunt strangling his cock like it was your only lifeline. Letting up and watching you gasp desperately. “Good girl, such a sweet doll for me.” He whispered in your ear. Thrusting into you quickly now. “Come on now, aren’t you close little one?”

You nodded quickly, the undeniable pleasure coursing through your body, heightened by the way he had cut off your air supply.

“Come on. Say it.” He growled. Grabbing your hips and angling them in a way that had you squealing.

“Daddy! Daddy please! I’m going to cum!” You cried out, tears still steadily rolling down your face, the pleasure much outweighing the pain but the soreness still very present.

“Come on babydoll, cum.” He commanded, and right as he did, stars exploded in your vision after seeing white for a moment. You had squirted all over the front of him again. This time it soaked his tactical pants and some of his shirt, as well as his abdomen. He groaned loudly, before his hips stuttered, filling you with the final load. It was boiling, scorching your insides. Your moans echoed throughout the room, eyes slowly gazing over to the other men.

Soap had his cock in his hand, cum all over his thigh. Gaz was also palming his cock, a wet stain in his pants. But Price was just sitting there, cigar in one hand, resting his head on the other. Watching the debauchery in front of him.

Your face was flushed as Ghost set you back down onto the bed, rutting his cock into you one, two more times before pulling out. You mewled and whined as you felt another man come over, not wanting anymore.

Your protests were all but ignored as Soap dug into your sopping wet cunt, cleaning up the mess that had been given to him. You squealed, grabbing roughly onto the man’s mohawk as he sloppily ate at your pussy. Trying to pull him away to no avail, the Scotsman wouldn’t let up until you were fully clean.

The feeling of overstimulation ravished your body, leaving your limbs feeling like jelly, tiredness seeping into your bones. You watched as Ghost leaned down, his face in front of you as you made eye contact with the man, noting how pretty his eyes were, not being able to hold back the mumble that came out,

“You have really pretty eyes.” You shut your mouth quickly as the man chuckled, dragging his finger up and down your sternum.

“Oh, really?” He cooed, watching as you nodded shyly, feeling his hand cradle your face. He turned away from you, looking at Price.

“Where are we keeping her?”

A/N: hehehe i had so much fun writing this, might have some other ideas for this universe that may be coming soon, reposts and comments are appreciated <3

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paucubarsisimp · 20 hours ago

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Can you write dad mase but he has a teenager instead. I really liked your Mason fics

the boyfriend talk

pairing: mason mount x reader

summary: in which your daughter, mia introduces her boyfriend to you for the first time

warnings: none

it was one of those perfect saturday afternoons. the sun was shining through the windows, casting a warm glow over your living room. you and mason were lounging on the couch, both of you pretending to relax but secretly keeping an eye on your phones (mason catching up on football stats, and you just scrolling endlessly through random things). the peaceful silence was suddenly interrupted when mia, your teenage daughter, came rushing in, her cheeks flushed and her hands clasped tightly around someone else’s.

"mum, dad!" she called out excitedly, a slight nervousness in her voice that you didn't quite catch at first. "i want you to meet someone."

you looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. mia had been talking about this new "friend" of hers for a while now, but you hadn’t expected this moment to arrive so soon.

"who’s this?" you asked, giving her a playful, teasing smile.

mason looked up from his phone, his eyebrow quirking in that familiar way that made him look like he was about to investigate a crime scene. the hand that had been resting on his knee was now gripping the couch cushion a little tighter, but mia was oblivious, walking towards you both with a grin.

"everyone, this is noah!" mia announced proudly, pulling the nervous-looking boy forward. he was tall and thin, with messy brown hair and an awkward smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “my boyfriend!”

your heart melted instantly. boyfriend. you remembered being her age, how much that word meant. your smile softened as you stood up and walked over to noah, giving him a welcoming look.

"hey, noah! it’s really nice to meet you," you said warmly, holding your hand out for him to shake.

he looked a bit shocked at the warmth in your voice, his face lighting up with surprise as he shook your hand. "hi, mrs. mount," he said, clearly trying to make a good impression but failing a little as his voice cracked on the last word. you stifled a laugh at how sweet he was trying to be.

mason, however, remained seated on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, eyeing noah like a hawk. his usual relaxed demeanor was nowhere to be seen. you gave him a pointed look but he only responded with a slight shrug, still sizing noah up.

"so," mason began, his voice low and a little intimidating. "what’s your… thing?"

you could practically hear the dun dun dun of an interrogation soundtrack in your head.

mia shot mason a death glare. "dad, seriously?"

you stepped in between them, laughing nervously. "mason, come on, give him a break. he’s just here to meet us."

noah looked as if he might faint right there, his cheeks turning crimson. "uh, well, i… i’m in my final year of school, and, um… i’m planning to study architecture next year. i, uh, i really like drawing," he stammered, clearly doing his best to impress everyone in the room.

mason leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "architecture? so, you’re good at building things?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something else in it.

noah nodded quickly. “yeah! i’ve been designing some plans for houses and stuff. just sketches, you know.”

“that’s good,” mason said, nodding slowly but still looking like he was trying to figure out if noah was hiding a secret plan to destroy his daughter’s heart. “so, you’ve got big plans. that’s nice.”

mia’s face turned redder than a tomato, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing felt. you knew mason was just being a dad—an overprotective one—but still, his seriousness was like something out of a bad dad movie.

"well," you said, stepping forward again and giving noah a bright smile, "we’re happy to meet you, noah. mia talks about you all the time. and hey, any boy who makes mia this happy is good with me."

noah, clearly relieved, grinned a little more. "thanks, mrs. mount."

"yeah, well," mason said, clapping his hands together dramatically, "i’ll be the judge of that."

noah’s smile faltered for just a second, and you could see him swallowing nervously.

"you like football, noah?" mason asked, still giving him that stare.

noah, who clearly didn’t want to disappoint, straightened up. “uh, yeah! i play a bit, you know? not as good as you, of course…”

“oh really?” mason asked, his eyes narrowing. “i’m curious, noah. what’s your opinion on defensive midfielders?”

noah blinked. "uh… they’re important? i guess? i really don’t know much about that position. i just like watching the game…"

mason, clearly pleased with noah’s answer (or at least his willingness to pretend to care about football), nodded approvingly. “good. i like this kid.” then he muttered under his breath, "mia could’ve done worse."

you shot him a look, to which mason responded with a sheepish grin, clearly realizing he might’ve been too intense.

you wrapped an arm around mia’s shoulders, giving her a loving side-hug. “mia, i’m so happy for you,” you said, beaming at her.

mia smiled back, her hands twisting together nervously but still glowing with excitement. “thanks, mum… i’m really happy too.”

mason, still in ‘dad mode’, stood up from the couch, now towering over the two teenagers. “you’ve got my blessing, noah,” he said, his voice turning softer but still carrying that note of seriousness. “but, remember, no one hurts my little girl. no one.”

you burst out laughing, and noah looked like he might just pass out from the pressure. "mason," you said, giving him a playful shove, "don’t scare the poor kid off. mia already likes him.”

“i’m just making sure he knows the rules,” mason said with a wink at noah. "i’m a protective dad. it’s my job."

mia shot her dad another glare, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter. "i’m so sorry, noah. you’re gonna get an earful, aren’t you?"

noah just shrugged, looking like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. “i can handle it,” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “i think.”

after dinner, mason and you were in the kitchen cleaning up. you leaned against the counter, watching him carefully dry the dishes, your arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him with amusement.

"that was something," you said, your lips curling into a grin. "you nearly scared him off, you know."

mason shot you a look, clearly trying to play it cool. "i’m just making sure no one breaks her heart, okay? she’s my daughter."

you chuckled, walking over to him and slipping your arms around his waist. "you know, i’m pretty sure noah will pass your test. he seemed nice enough."

"yeah, yeah," mason said, giving you a reluctant smile. "i’m just looking out for her. that’s what dads do, right?"

you kissed his cheek, knowing he was only half-joking. "right. and honestly? mia’s lucky to have a dad like you.”

mason sighed, the weight of his protective instincts lifting just a little. "i guess you’re right," he admitted, wrapping an arm around you. "but let’s keep an eye on this noah character for a little while longer. just to be safe."

you couldn’t help but laugh. "i think we’ll be fine, mason. but… if he ever makes her cry, he’s really in trouble."

"agreed."

and with that, the two of you shared a quiet, contented moment, knowing that no matter how awkward or silly it might seem, you’d both do anything to make sure your daughter was happy—and safe.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

#footballer x reader #football #football imagine #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount x you

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gweelczz · 1 day ago

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How do you think it would have went down the night that the vampires came to the juke joint, but both Rosetta and Bo were inside?

That’s a good question! Thank you for asking!

So I’ll paint a scene for you, if Rosetta takes Grace’s place Mary ain’t getting let in because Cornbread ain’t goin be watchin the door. Rosetta’s brother would be. Matter of fact I got you

The Smokestack was hot with laughter, whiskey, and the slow moan of a steel guitar. Smoke hung low in the rafters like it was listening in. Bo leaned back in his chair, a lit cigarette resting between his fingers as he studied his cards. Rosetta sat sideways across his lap, one arm around his shoulder, a smile playing on her lips as she watched the table.

The door creaked open sharp.

“I’m here to see him,” Mary called out, her voice slicing through the hum of conversation like a blade.

Her pale dress clung to her, hair in soft waves that caught the light, eyes glittering with something more than life. She stood in the doorway like a ghost reborn—white-passing, blood-fed, and changed in secret. But the line of her mouth said she thought that gave her right.

Rosetta stiffened, gaze snapping toward the entrance.

Across the floor, Paul—Rosetta’s brother—was already there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His jaw clenched as his eyes raked over Mary.

“You ain’t welcome here no more, girl,” he said coldly.

Mary blinked. “I want to see Stack.”

Paul didn’t flinch. “He with Honey now. You know that. Best you turn ’round and find your way somewhere else.”

Mary stepped forward, voice lowering. “He’ll want to see me.”

He shook his head slowly. “If he wanted to see you, you’d already be inside. But he ain’t, and you ain’t.”

Behind him, someone turned the music up louder.

Mary’s lips parted, her teeth flashing just a little too sharp in the light. “You think you can keep me out forever?”

Paul didn’t answer. He just slammed the door in her face.

The silence after the thud was heavy, the way only night things could make it.

Bo smirked without looking up from his hand. “She gone?”

Rosetta exhaled slow, curling her fingers against his chest. “She gone.”

Paul turned the lock.

And the game went on.

#talks with red #sinners #sinners fanfiction #sinners film #sinners movie #bo chow #sinners 2025

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reveryfics · 8 hours ago

Text

Neighbors pt.2

Frank Castle "The Punisher" x Male Reader

Summary: It's been almost a year since Frank walked into your apartment, revealing his life as The Punisher. You'd settled into a demanding routine as an overnight ER nurse, navigating that world alongside your relationship with Frank. Little did you know, those two worlds were about to collide.

A/N: I got a couple comments asking for a second part to the Neighbors fic, uh I wasn't exactly sure what to do with this so hopefully this is okay. Male nurse reader as well, cause we all know Frank would end up dead without you.

TW: Blood - Broken arm - Injury - Comfort

The automatic doors of the emergency room shrieked open, a violent gust of air preceding a surge of hurried footsteps and the staccato bursts of clipped radio chatter. Two EMTs, their faces etched with grim urgency, propelled a gurney through the opening. The insistent, rhythmic beeping of a cardiac monitor sliced through the already buzzing chaos, an electronic heartbeat in the pandemonium. "Thirty-something male, found unresponsive at the scene, possible overdose," one of the EMTs barked, his voice barely cutting through the din.

Across the crowded bay, a different kind of drama unfolded. Another pair of EMTs struggled to transfer a screaming elderly woman onto a hospital bed, her cries of pain echoing off the unforgiving linoleum floors. A young resident, his face pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent lights, scribbled furiously on a chart, barking orders to a harried-looking nurse whose movements were a study in controlled frenzy.

You navigated this swirling vortex of controlled pandemonium, your own adrenaline still thrumming from the relentless stream of patients that had flooded in since your shift began what felt like an eternity ago. Just moments before, you had finished meticulously suturing a nasty, jagged gash on a construction worker’s forearm, the thick smell of antiseptic clinging to the air. Then the call came in – a multi-car pile-up on the highway. Now, you were heading towards the trauma bay, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach as you mentally braced yourself for whatever awaited.

The waiting room, visible through the smeared sliding glass doors, was a tableau of escalating anxiety. A young mother bounced a restless toddler on her knee, her eyes darting nervously towards the triage desk, a silent plea for information in their depths. An elderly man with a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his face a roadmap of worry lines. The air in the waiting room hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of antiseptic and raw fear, punctuated by the occasional, frustrated sigh that spoke volumes of unspoken dread. They didn't see the frantic ballet unfolding behind those closed doors, the life-and-death decisions being made in split seconds, the raw, visceral energy of a system stretched to its breaking point.

It felt like just moments ago, you had managed to coax a distraught teenager out of a full-blown panic attack, her rapid, shallow breaths and racing pulse fueled by pure, unadulterated fear of a phantom heart attack. Before that, it was a belligerent drunk, swinging wildly at anyone who dared to approach, requiring every ounce of your patience and a gentle yet firm hand to finally gain his cooperation. Each case, each individual, demanded a different kind of focus, a different wellspring of emotional and physical energy, leaving you feeling like a tightly wound spring threatening to snap.

As you pushed through the heavy swinging doors into the trauma bay, the scene intensified, the air crackling with a raw, visceral energy that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. The trauma team was already a well-oiled machine, each member moving with practiced precision, their movements economical and purposeful. A quick, sweeping glance told you the grim story: multiple injuries, a shocking amount of blood staining the sterile white sheets, the urgent, rhythmic whirring of suction machines battling to keep airways clear. You took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the gnawing fatigue that tugged at the edges of your awareness. Another life, or perhaps multiple lives, hung precariously in the balance, and in this moment, amidst the chaos, that was the only thing that mattered.

But before you could fully immerse yourself in the unfolding trauma, a hand clamped down on your arm, pulling you away from the organized chaos. It was Sarah, a newer nurse whose usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by wide, panicked eyes. "Hey! Can you come take a look at Mr. Wilson in room three? He's refusing his IV, and he's getting really agitated. I can't seem to get anywhere with him."

You let out a silent sigh. You knew the car crash victims were in capable hands for the moment, the experienced trauma team already orchestrating their care with practiced efficiency. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Okay, Sarah, let's go."

You walked down the quieter hallway towards room three, the frantic energy of the trauma bay fading slightly with each step. As you approached the open doorway, the distinct sound of a raised voice reached you. An older man sat propped up in the hospital bed, his face flushed with anger as he argued vehemently with another nurse, who held a saline-filled syringe aloft, looking increasingly frustrated.

You recognized the patient instantly. Mr. Wilson. A local elderly gentleman who was a frequent visitor to the ER, his unmanaged diabetes often landing him back in a hospital bed. He looked in your direction, his eyes, usually twinkling with a mischievous glint, now narrowed with annoyance, watching as you approached the hand sanitizer dispenser and meticulously washed your hands before pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Oh, thank heavens you're here, Nurse," he huffed, his voice still carrying a note of indignation. "These youngsters don't got a clue what they're doing." He shot an accusatory glance at the two other nurses in the room.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly as you stepped closer to the bed. "They're doing their best, Mr. Wilson," you said gently, your tone calm and reassuring. You took the syringe from the other nurse. "Let's get this IV started, shall we?" Your practiced hands made quick work of locating a vein, the insertion smooth and efficient. Mr. Wilson barely flinched. "See? All done."

You shook your head slightly, turning around to grab his chart from the bedside table. "High blood sugar again?" You glanced over the recent lab results, noting the alarming number well over four hundred.

He waved a dismissive hand at you. "Nonsense, Nurse. I'll be right as rain, just like I always am."

You didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to ensure the IV was running smoothly before meeting his gaze. "I'll be back to check on you later, Mr. Wilson. Try to relax."

Hours bled into each other, the relentless tide of patients ebbing and flowing. Finally, as the first hint of dawn painted the sky outside the grimy windows, the ER began to quiet. You managed to steal a precious moment of respite in the cramped nurses' lounge.

Standing near the industrial-sized coffee maker, you pulled out your phone, a small beacon of normalcy in the chaotic day. A message from Frank, sent at the very beginning of your shift, greeted you. He often sent these little digital breadcrumbs – a silly meme, a brief update on his day, the occasional picture of him and your beloved pit bull, Frankie, their goofy faces a welcome distraction during your long, grueling hours. You tucked your phone back into your scrub pocket, the image of Frankie’s slobbery grin a momentary balm. You took the now-full coffee pitcher and poured yourself a much-needed cup, the rich aroma a small comfort.

You sank into a worn chair at one of the small, cluttered tables, barely managing a single, precious sip before the insistent buzz of your pager vibrated against your hip. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet, the brief moment of peace shattered. You headed back out to the bustling nurses' station, managing a tired smile for your coworker who handed you a chart. Your smile instantly froze, your blood running cold as you saw the name scrawled across the top: "Castle, Frank."

Without a word, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you walked down the hall and into the designated exam room. The doctor was just hanging up a series of x-rays, the stark white images revealing the sharp break in Frank's arm. Another nurse was gently dabbing at a series of cuts and abrasions on his face and torso.

Frank's head snapped in your direction as the door creaked open, his eyes widening in surprise, then something akin to fear, as he registered the look on your face – a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a dawning anger. He watched, helpless, as the other nurse offered you a small, knowing smile and quietly slipped out of the room.

"You can't just leave me here with him," Frank pleaded, his voice laced with a theatrical desperation that didn't quite mask the underlying anxiety. "Common, babe." He groaned dramatically, leaning back against the pillows.

You didn't say a word, your mind still reeling. You simply set his chart down on the counter with a decisive thud and moved to the sink, the harsh fluorescent light reflecting off the cool metal as you meticulously washed your hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, your movements stiff and deliberate. You picked up where the previous nurse had left off, gently cleaning the numerous cuts across his face and abdomen, your touch perhaps a little less gentle than it usually was.

Frank hissed, biting his lip as you carefully cleaned around a particularly deep gash on his side, the edges raw and angry-looking. "Fancy seeing you here," he attempted a weak joke, but instantly stopped when your eyes, usually warm and full of affection, now glinted with a sharp, almost dangerous light as you briefly glared up at him.

You listened in stony silence as the doctor began explaining the next steps, his voice calm and professional. "Alright, Frank, we're going to have to set that bone before we can put a cast on it. Looks like a clean fracture, but it needs to be realigned." He gestured to the x-rays. "We'll give you some local anesthetic for these cuts, and then we'll get started on the arm."

The doctor excused himself to gather the necessary supplies, leaving you alone with a very uncomfortable and apologetic-looking Frank. You picked up a syringe from the medical tray, the needle glinting under the bright lights, stopping just before taking the cap off.

"I've had a real shit day so far," you finally rasped, your voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I saw your name on that chart?" You didn't wait for an answer, your silence hanging heavy in the air.

Frank let out a long, weary sigh, wishing he had just listened to his gut and insisted they not contact you. "I'm sorry, trust me, baby, I didn't mean to worry you." He groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

You finally took the cap off the syringe, your movements precise and efficient despite the turmoil churning within you. You swabbed the area around the deep laceration on Frank's side with a cold alcohol wipe. "It's gonna sting," you whispered, your voice barely audible, before carefully pushing the tip of the needle into various points around the wound, injecting the numbing solution. Your chest tightened almost imperceptibly as he occasionally hissed in pain, his free hand instinctively reaching out to grip the sleeve of your scrubs, his knuckles white.

With the local anesthetic administered, you began to meticulously stitch the wound, your movements quick and precise, years of training taking over despite the emotional turmoil. Each careful stitch pulled the edges of the laceration together, closing the angry red gash. Once finished, you applied a clean bandage over the area.

You stood up straight, disposing of the used needle and other medical supplies with a sharp, efficient clink into the biohazard bin. Your back was to Frank as you bent over the sink to wash your hands, the sound of running water filling the brief silence. You heard a low whistle from behind you, a familiar sound that couldn't help but tug the corner of your lips into a small, involuntary smile.

You turned around, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Incredibly unprofessional, Mr. Castle," you quipped, a hint of your usual playful tone finally breaking through the tension.

"Can't help that my nurse looks incredibly hot in his scrubs," Frank hummed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

You walked back over to the side of the bed, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Frank’s hand, no longer gripping the mattress, came to rest gently on the small of your back, pulling you a fraction closer as he returned the kiss. You quickly pulled away when the door creaked open again, the doctor returning with a tray of casting materials.

He simply shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "If kissing your boyfriend at work was illegal, half the staff here would be unemployed by now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking the tension. You walked around the bed to help the doctor, a familiar camaraderie settling between you as you assisted him in the procedure.

The doctor explained the process as he worked, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. You carefully stabilized Frank's arm above and below the fracture site as the doctor applied traction and expertly manipulated the bone back into alignment. Frank winced but remained relatively still, his gaze locked on yours. The sickening thunk of the bone resetting made you flinch, but relief washed over Frank’s face. The doctor then carefully wrapped Frank's arm in layers of padding and wet plaster, molding it into a supportive cast.

Once the cast was securely in place, the doctor gave Frank instructions on how to care for it and left the two of you alone again. You stayed behind in the quiet exam room with Frank, pulling a couple of warm blankets over him and double-checking that his IV was running smoothly. He watched your every move, his eyes soft and full of affection. Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out, his fingers gently closing around your wrist.

You turned back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. "I'll take you home once my shift's over," you murmured against his mouth. "Just get some rest for now."

Frank kissed you back, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and perhaps a touch of lingering pain medication.

"I love you too," you replied softly, stroking his cheek. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, don't show up at my work again unless it's to bring me food." You managed a weak joke, and Frank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that eased some of the tightness in your chest.

#frank castle #frank castle x male reader #the punisher #the punisher x male reader #marvel frank castle #marvel x male reader #marvel #mlm #fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #xmalereader #requested

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an-established-butt-dent · 9 months ago

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Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan

#I call this 'a light study that got out of hand'#Like #I tried to do only a sketch but then the sketch got more and more detailed and suddenly I'm spending hours #On giving Solas the juiciest eyelashes and lips of all of thedas #He's GLOWING #My inquisitor Ellie is looking a bit anxious wondering why her boyfriend is keeping some emotional distance #This whole hot and cold dynamic is getting on her nerves #Which means she becomes a bit clingy during the moments where he is open to her affection #And she might have locked him into her quarters #solasmance #solas dragon age #solas x female lavellan #solas x inquisitor #inquisitor lavellan #Dragon age inquisition #dragon age the veilguard #Dragon age fanart #solas fanart #Datv #dav #Dai #Daze Chroma #Dazechroma #My art #Digital art #illutration #Fantasy #The Dread Wolf #art #Solavellan

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dior-luxury · 19 days ago

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You Being Super Oblivious Of Them Flirting With You

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/light romance - no prns .

- [𝐜𝐡.] 3rd years

- [𝐩:𝐬] slow burn . one-sided pinning (resolved) . light comedy . mild suggestiveness . teasing/banter . slight jealousy

Note: I sat down to write cute flirty headcanons and instead accidentally wrote all of these guys having a romantic breakdown in about their crush being so oblivious about the flirting. 💀 Then I thought they where good and just decided to go with that as the prompt!

Trey Clover

It had been going on for weeks.

Subtle, harmless gestures at first—sharing his homemade treats, seeking you out in the hallways between classes, and always making sure there was a spare seat beside him at Heartslabyul’s long, rose-lined table. You always took it. Smiling up at him, laughing at his jokes, even leaning against his shoulder sometimes when the evenings stretched long and drowsy under the golden canopy of dusk.

And yet.

You were completely, utterly oblivious.

“You’re really good at baking, Trey,” you complimented one day as he handed you a small, ribbon-tied box of matcha-flavored sweets, his personal recipe he never shared. You bit into one, eyes lighting up in delight. “I don’t know how someone like you is still single.”

Trey blinked.

“...Someone like me?”

“Yeah! Tall, dependable, cute smile—you’re like...dad boyfriend material.”

If he had been drinking tea, he might’ve choked.

Dad boyfriend material?!

Despite the polite, affable smile he wore, a faint twitch of disbelief rippled across his temple. Trey had dropped so many hints—letting you taste frosting off his finger in the kitchen, gently brushing your hair out of your eyes when you leaned too close to the oven, even calling you “sweetheart” under his breath when you dozed off during a study session.

And yet, here you were. Thinking he was some domestic teddy bear.

The final straw came during a Heartslabyul tea party, when you reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth with your thumb, completely unaware of how red his ears turned.

“You’re always such a mess after eating cake,” you scolded gently.

“You do realize,” he said slowly, looking into your eyes with a rare, unreadable intensity, “that I only ever bring you the first slice.”

“Huh? I just thought I was lucky!” you grinned.

That did it.

He leaned in, lowering his voice as he caged you between the chair and the hedge behind. His gloved hand gently tipped your chin up. “I’ve been flirting with you for months,” he murmured. “How much more obvious do I have to be, shortcake?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Wha—wait, what?!”

Trey laughed softly, finally letting his forehead rest against yours, the tension melting into something warm, golden, and soft. “I swear, you’re sweeter than my tarts and twice as dense.”

Cater Diamond

“Okay, I give up,” Cater announced dramatically, collapsing face-down on the common room couch. “I’ve tried everything, and they still don’t get it.”

From behind his phone screen, he peeked at you sitting nearby, nose buried in a magazine, completely unaware of his suffering.

It had started as a game at first—light teasing, exaggerated winks, the occasional compliment laced with glittering charm.

“Looking good today, babe~” he’d say, snapping a selfie of the two of you while slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks, Cater! You look amazing too, as always!”

But you always said it like a friend. With zero hesitation, zero fluster, zero realization. You treated his affection like background noise—a quirk of his personality.

Even when he’d rested his head in your lap after a long day and looked up at you with dreamy, sleepy eyes and whispered, “You’d make a perfect boyfriend, y'know... if you’d let me,” you just chuckled and patted his hair.

“Aw, Cater, that’s sweet. You’d be a great boyfriend for someone, definitely.”

Someone.

SOMEONE.

He practically screamed into his pillow when he got back to his dorm that night.

Every day since then had been a desperate escalation. He started bringing you your favorite snacks, styling your hair for fun, sending you good morning texts with pet names like “sunshine” or “my star.” You responded with gifs. Gifs.

Finally, in a move of last-ditch desperation, he planned the boldest romantic gesture he could think of.

Cater rented out the photo booth in town, the one with the glitter backgrounds and soft lighting. He dragged you inside under the pretense of wanting “a bestie shoot,” and waited for the moment the countdown began.

Three…

Two…

One—

He turned, cupped your face, and kissed your cheek.

Click. Flash.

You blinked at him.

“Cater?? What was that for?”

He stared.

“No, seriously. Are you okay? Did you think I was sad or something? You can talk to me, y’know.”

Cater threw his hands up and groaned.

“You’re the one I like!! You! Not as a friend, not as a selfie buddy, not as a human pillow—I like you, you dense little cinnamon bun!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Are you flirting with me?”

He looked like he aged five years in five seconds.

“Yes. YES, BABE. That’s what the last four months were. Flirting. Full-throttle, heart-eyes, rom-com level flirting!”

“…Oh.”

A pause. Then, sheepishly:

“So… wanna take another photo? This time, maybe I kiss you on the lips?”

Cater blinked at your soft smile and the way your hand found his.

And just like that, every ounce of frustration melted into sparkly euphoria. “Oh my Seven,” he whispered with a grin. “Finally.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was not a man known for patience. In fact, most of the time, he prided himself on getting what he wanted with the least amount of effort. He was sharp, cunning, and confident enough to know that most people would bend over backward just to get a sliver of his attention. So when he set his sights on you—you, with your soft laugh, bright eyes, and completely clueless smile—he assumed it would be easy.

It wasn’t.

It started small. He’d lounge in the botanical gardens where he knew you always came to study. He made sure to growl off anyone else who might sit nearby, leaving the two of you in your own little secluded corner. He'd toss you the occasional compliment, his voice lazy and low.

“Tch. That look suits you, herbivore. Finally got some style.”

You’d blink at him with that warm, clueless grin. “Oh? Thanks, Leona. My friend helped me pick this outfit.”

He resisted the urge to growl. Again.

Then he escalated. He’d sit closer—closer than anyone would consider “just friends.” He'd drop hints laced with suggestion, his amber eyes narrowing when you remained oblivious. He once even played with your hair, idly running his fingers through it while you yawned and continued taking notes on magical herbology.

It got to the point where Ruggie cornered you in the hallway, shaking his head in disbelief. “You seriously don’t get it? He’s basically marking his territory every time you’re near!”

“Huh? Leona? Nah, he’s just... touchy sometimes.”

Leona nearly tore his textbooks in half when he heard that.

The final straw came one warm afternoon when you plopped down beside him under the shade of a sprawling tree. You smiled and passed him a snack you'd made, and Leona, in a bold move of desperation and hunger for your attention, leaned down and bit into it directly from your hand, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

You just blinked and said, “You must’ve been really hungry!”

Leona threw himself backward into the grass with a groan, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Seven hells, you’re dense,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

He sat up again, eyes narrowed, voice husky. “Do I need to spell it out for you, herbivore? I’m not just hanging around you ‘cause I’m bored. I’m trying to get you to notice me.”

You tilted your head, confused. “But I do notice you…”

“No,” he growled, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, tugging you closer. “Notice me. As in, I want you. You. Me. Together. You seriously didn’t get that?”

You froze. And then it hit you like a freight train. The closeness, the compliments, the touches, the possessiveness—

“Oh... OH.”

Leona smirked, fangs glinting in the sun. “Took you long enough.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was always graceful, always poised, always in control. He calculated every step, every glance, every smile. So naturally, when he decided to pursue you, he did it with the same precision he applied to a stage performance or a red-carpet event. Subtle glances, gentle compliments, a brush of his fingers across your shoulder. It was a slow-burning courtship that he expected would sweep you off your feet.

But instead?

Nothing.

Nothing but your charming smile and occasional, completely unbothered “Thank you, Vil!” or “You’re so sweet!” before skipping off to your next class.

He chalked it up to modesty at first. Maybe you were shy. Maybe you wanted to play hard to get. But by week three, when he sent you a handpicked bouquet of enchanted roses and you gave them to Professor Trein’s cat because “it matched her fur,” Vil nearly fainted on the spot.

So, he got bolder.

One afternoon, he strode into your dorm’s common room while you were curled up on a couch with a book. Wordlessly, he slipped beside you and sat right in your lap, settling as gracefully as ever, legs crossed, arm lazily draped around your shoulders.

You blinked. “Are you tired? You can sit here as long as you need.”

Vil’s eye twitched.

“Tired? No, darling, I wanted to sit somewhere comfortable and charming. Surely you understand the appeal.” He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Or is my lap too forward for your delicate sensibilities?”

You laughed lightly. “Nope! You’re light. I didn’t even notice the weight. Kinda like a cat. A really fashionable one.”

Fashionable cat?!

Vil nearly stood up right then and there, scandalized. But no—he took a deep breath. Composure. Poise.

Until you reached up and started patting his head.

“You’re so pretty, Vil. I hope I can be as pretty as you one day.”

“…I’m not trying to be ‘pretty like you,’ I’m trying to be yours,” he hissed in exasperation, face dangerously close to yours.

You blinked again. “Wait… what?”

Vil’s patience finally snapped like a taut ribbon.

“For the love of all that is radiant—I have been flirting with you for months. I’ve complimented you, made time for you, bought you gifts, and now I am literally sitting on your lap! What more must I do? Wear a sign that says ‘I want to be yours’?”

You gaped at him.

“…I thought you were just naturally dramatic.”

Vil groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You awkwardly wrapped your arms around him, finally catching on. “Wait, so… you like me?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, expression softening ever so slightly. “I more than like you. But you, sweet potato, are so hopelessly dense.”

You laughed nervously, cheeks burning. “I’m really sorry… but, um… I like you too. I just didn’t think you’d like someone like me.”

Vil huffed, but a genuine smile curled on his lips. “Well, you’re mine now. And you’ll never be oblivious again, because I won’t give you the chance to miss it.”

Rook Hunt

To Rook, this was a challenge—a delicious, exquisite one.

He was well aware of how utterly unaware you were. The first time he realized, it was during archery club. He complimented the way your arms flexed as you pulled the bowstring, his tone sultry, his gaze locked on you like you were his prey.

You grinned and said, “Haha, thanks! I’ve been working out my shoulders. Good for posture!”

He tilted his head, lips curled in amusement. “Ah, ma colombe, you are truly a creature of mystery~”

But instead of giving up, Rook only doubled down. He started leaving flowers at your desk with poetic notes—sometimes with metaphors so thick they practically screamed “I am in love with you!”

You just thought it was a Rook thing.

“You’re so sweet! You write such beautiful stuff. Have you thought of joining the poetry club?”

Poetry club…?! Mon dieu, I am baring my soul!

He even tried the "accidental touch" method—fingers brushing yours when passing a book, hands lingering too long during sparring practice. Yet you never reacted with more than a casual smile and a “You okay?”

And Rook? He found it thrilling.

“This unawareness… this resistance… c’est magnifique!” he whispered one day, watching you from the balcony like a Shakespearean ghost. “You are like a doe in the forest, unaware of the eyes that follow you in reverent adoration…”

The final straw was when he kissed the back of your hand under the moonlight after walking you to your dorm. With an air of mystery and drama, he looked into your eyes and murmured, “Bonsoir, ma lumière…”

You giggled. “Wow, you really should join the drama club. That delivery was incredible.”

Rook clutched his chest like he’d been shot, but he was laughing too. Of course. Of course you didn’t get it.

But that just made him want you more.

“I shall make it my mission to pierce through the veil of innocence that blinds you, mon trésor,” he declared to the stars. “You will see me—not as a friend, not as a fellow student—but as the man who has adored you all this time.”

Idia Shroud

It was exhausting trying to flirt with someone who didn’t even realize you were the final boss in their dating sim.

Idia never considered himself bold—not IRL, anyway. Most of his romantic experience came from watching his OTPs go through slow-burn arcs in visual novels or tragic anime love stories. But when it came to you, he was trying. Like, genuinely. In his own glitchy, socially awkward way.

He’d wait outside your classroom “totally coincidentally” with his tablet in hand, acting like he wasn’t tracking your class schedule to the minute. He even upgraded Ortho’s AI recognition software just to find excuses to walk past you more often. He quoted romantic lines from his favorite games to you, hoping you’d get it—but every single time?

You’d just blink. Smile. Nod like he was being cute.

“Oh, that line was so poetic! Is that from a movie or something?”

“B-bro that’s from Stellar Lust IV! The confession scene where the star-crossed lovers reunite under a dying moon! Are you seriously not…? Nvm.”

One afternoon, he got bold. He invited you to his room. That alone should’ve been a confession—no one entered his sacred gaming lair unless they had maximum trust level.

He cleared off a place on the bed, installed RGB mood lighting, even had anime OSTs playing softly in the background. He hyped himself up for weeks for this. He was going to drop a flirt so obvious, even a level 1 NPC could read it.

“So, u-uh, you ever wonder what it’d be like to… y’know… date a genius tech prince who could hack into the city grid just to turn all the traffic lights green for you?”

You tilted your head. “That sounds dangerous… but also kind of cool? Is this part of your new game concept?”

He.exe stopped working.

The blue flames of his hair turned pink for half a second before sizzling back.

He mumbled something incoherent and turned back to his computer, pulling his hoodie so far over his head he looked like a turtle. “N-no, yeah, that was just… haha… worldbuilding...”

He’d keep trying though. One day, he’d craft a cutscene so perfect, even you couldn’t ignore the affection coded into every line.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was not used to being ignored. Or overlooked. Or, heaven forbid—misunderstood. He was the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, the most feared and powerful student on campus. And yet, here he was, casting ancient spells to conjure glowing roses and coaxing fireflies into hearts over your tea cup—only for you to respond with:

“Wow, Malleus! You always make things so aesthetic!”

He blinked. "Aesthetic?"

“Yeah! Super vibey. You should be a party planner.”

He nearly short-circuited.

This had been happening for weeks. He’d memorized your schedule, just so he could “coincidentally” be where you were. He’d offer to walk you home under the stars, hoping for soft-spoken confessions—but you only asked him if he thought raccoons had hierarchies in their little trash kingdoms.

...You were enchanting. But you were driving him mad.

One day, after finding yet another love poem he’d slipped into your book returned with grammar corrections (you thought he was practicing his prose), he decided on something bold. Direct. Unmistakable.

“Child of man,” Malleus said one twilight evening as you both sat beneath a tree, “if I were to tell you that my heart beats differently in your presence, that the night air tastes sweeter when you laugh—what would you say?”

You tilted your head, thinking. “I’d say you have a really poetic way of saying you like hanging out.”

“I do not merely like hanging out,” he said slowly, brow twitching. “I wish to court you.”

You stared. “Like… on trial?”

“…Romantically.”

“Ohhhh.”

Silence.

“Wait, me?!”

Malleus closed his eyes and inhaled. Patience. He could wait a thousand years more. But hopefully not.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia Vanrouge had seen centuries of war, peace, love, loss—and yet nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the sheer unshakable obliviousness that was you.

It started innocently enough.

He’d toss a wink your way whenever he passed by in the hallway. He brought you little trinkets from the village during his off-campus ventures—flowers woven into chains, sweets with hearts drawn on the wrappers, one time even a hairpin shaped like a bat. You had smiled and thanked him with the kind of radiant purity that could blind a mortal man. And then you tucked the bat hairpin in your pencil case.

Your pencil case. Like he was a math worksheet and not a 700+ year old fae trying to court you.

Still, he found it endearing. You were cute in a way that made his ageless heart ache, and he loved a challenge. So he tried harder.

“You know,” he drawled one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder with a voice like velvet, “in my youth, a suitor might serenade their beloved beneath the moonlight.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, eyes on your textbook. “Did they ever get noise complaints?”

He blinked. “...Noise complaints?”

“Well, if it was late and they were singing outside someone’s window… I bet a lot of people weren’t exactly swooning.”

For a moment, Lilia just stared at you. And then he burst out laughing, so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye.

“You are either brilliantly teasing me,” he chuckled, “or heartbreakingly naive.”

You smiled at him, not understanding in the slightest.

The final straw came when he invited you for a midnight flight—romantic, intimate, just the two of you soaring above the moon-drenched trees. You screamed with laughter and clung to him the entire way, yelling about how cool it was and how friends like him were the best.

“Friends,” Lilia repeated afterward, voice soft and low as you happily ate the little picnic he’d prepared.

You looked up. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have you.”

He sighed with a small, defeated smile, but his eyes were warm. “The luck,” he murmured, “is all mine, dear.”

3K notes · View notes

rafey-baby · 6 months ago

Text

older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts.

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless.

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting.

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you somethin’,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites.

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end.

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.

“That I was mad at you?”

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes.

He lets out a sigh.

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought somethin’ happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.

“I know, m’sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval.

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her.

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table.

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anythin’ with me. Let dad do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.

“Shit, this is amazin’,” he praises around the mouthful.

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.

“Did you eat yet?”

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible.

He stops chewing.

“Waitin’ for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.

She looks up at him, puzzled.

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.

“Good, right?”

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.

She swallows.

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again.

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home.

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact.

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response.

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”

“M’sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blowson her sensitive cunt.

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface.

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping.

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance.

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.

“Nah, you’re good, dad wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.

“I don’t know if I can—”

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.

“No, I do, I do…”

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic.

6K notes · View notes

humanjarvis · 22 days ago

Text

whose?

synopsis: what’s his is yours.

tags: fluff, smut (handjob), kind of comfort, in a way. jealous/possessive reader, reader needs reassurance, caleb subs himself out to give it to them. reader is a bit delusional but he’s into it, of course word count: 1.4k

a/n: i have reached the point in writerdom where my “drabble ideas” exceed 600 words and must become full fics. i like this one though

“So, how was it?”

Caleb looks up as your voice echoes from the living room, having just returned from a Fleet meeting. That afternoon, there’d been a new recruit skill showcase, and he’d been summoned to judge.

“Nothin’ special,” he calls casually, strolling into the room. “The guys at the DAA were a lot more passionate, and a lot nicer to be around. Although…I think this one girl was trying to get on my good side. Kept lookin’ over at me during her trials like she wanted to impress me. She even came up to me afterwards saying she liked my eyes—I had to turn her down. Shame you weren’t there with me, otherwise we could’ve saved her the trouble,” he ends with a sheepish chuckle.

Unfortunately, Caleb was too wrapped up in his storytelling to notice you flinching at four particular words: “girl,” “liked,” “my eyes.”

Bristling in irritation, you shoot him a skeptical glance before turning your attention back to your phone. “Whose?” you ask, your eerily calm voice cutting through the dry air.

“Huh?” he blinks confusedly. “Whose…what? She said she liked my eyes, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he repeats.

You tut, ticking your head up to the side and raising a sloped eyebrow. “Whose?”

Caleb feels like he’s back in a college classroom, sweating with nerves as he stares at an exam question that hadn’t been on the study guide.

What had he said wrong? He racks his brain for an answer, and then—oh. He knows what you're doing.

Lately, when other people commented on his body—the body you'd waited so long to touch without consequence—you got a bit…sensitive.

He knows what you want him to say, now. And, like always, he was happy to indulge your adorably territorial request.

“…Yours,” he swallows.

“Good.” With a haughty sniff, you click your phone off and lob it across the couch. “Come here.”

And now, Caleb feels like he’s back in high school, suddenly getting called to the principal’s office. Except this time—because it’s you—a thrill rockets down his spine, propelling him forward in long, obliging strides.

He sits obediently when you pat the spot next to you, and you turn to face him with a light scowl on your face. An act, he thinks. You’re no more than a lion cub trying to be brave, but you need the validation, the reassurance. And he’ll gladly give it to you.

“I wasn't doing it on purpose,” he pouts. “It's not my fault. Just wanted to tell you about my day.”

“It is your fault,” you grumble, “for being so damn hot and charming all the time.”

He uses all his effort to take you seriously. To listen solemnly instead of preen at your praise.

“But I am glad you told me, because that means I can remind you,” you add, climbing on top of him. “These,” you start, fingers tracing the outlines of his purple irises, “are mine.” He inhales sharply when you come forward, his eyes fluttering shut to let you press twin kisses to their lids.

He shivers for a moment before opening them gently, encouragement and poorly hidden delight in his gaze. “Yeah,” he rasps in agreement. “Yours.”

Humming in pretend contemplation, you trail your finger down the bridge of his nose. “This too,” you declare, tapping it lightly.

You take his quick nods as a sign to continue.

Just a few more centimeters, and your hand reaches his full mouth. “And these,” you start, lowering your voice as you lean in, “are definitely mine.” Claiming his lips in a searing, open-mouthed kiss, you tangle a hand in his hair as he groans into you. His large palms splay across your back, tugging you even closer, and you’re almost upset when you have to pull yourself away. But you have a point to prove.

“Am I right?” you ask through uneven breaths, and he answers you with hazy eyes and swollen lips.

Onto the next part.

Running your hands down his bulky arms—also yours—you inch back on his lap just enough to see the full pane of his clothed abs. Like usual, he knows what you want before you even ask and swiftly tugs his shirt off, exposing himself to you with unconditional trust.

You let a soft smile grace your lips as you count the smooth muscles, chiseled by years of hard work and restraint. “Each of these,” you begin, lightly tapping each one, “is also mine. So I certainly hope she’s never seen them,” you warn with a deceptively playful squint.

“Nope,” he says proudly. “Nobody outside this room has for a long time. I just keep ‘em in good shape because I know their owner likes them,” he smirks and squeezes your hip gently.

Flustered by how readily he plays along, you clear your throat bashfully. Damn him. “Y-yes. Well. I do,” you stutter, cheeks burning when his grin widens.

Alright. Evidently, he’s eager—almost too eager—to be put in his place, if you can even call this that. You have to shift the power in your favor, to get the ball back in your court. And luckily, you’re in just the right position to do that.

Meeting his gaze defiantly—he is not in charge here—you reach between your bodies to slip your hand into his pants. As your warm fingers wrap around him, he lets out a choked whine and screws his eyes shut, only to blink them open seconds later with a pitiful stare.

“Mhm,” you hum in approval. From Caleb, that look is a show of submission—his favorite card to play when you score the upper hand. That look—the furrowed brow, the pleading gaze, and the slightly quivering bottom lip—means he’s yours to control.

“And whose is this, Caleb?” you tease with reclaimed confidence, squeezing gently around his hardened length.

“Yours,” he breathes shakily, the response automatic. “Only have it for you—so you can use it.”

“That’s right,” you smile in satisfaction. Giving him a quick kiss, you lift his heavy cock out of his boxers, watching in admiration as the head glistens with growing need. “Mine to use. Why don’t I show you?”

Reaching up, you run your thumb across his tip and down his rigid length, coating it thoroughly until he’s slick with his arousal. You figure it’s okay to reward him—that’s part of learning, right? Rewards for good behaviors, punishments for bad. And despite the small hiccups, the moments where he’d siphoned your dominance, he’d been so good for you tonight.

So you start with slow strokes. Gentle praises and twists of your hand, up and down, down and up, until his face contorts in bliss. Frantic gasps and whimpers fill your ears, and you’re happier than ever that you’re the only one who gets to see him like this. You know there’s no one else—you’ve always known, deep down—but that doesn’t stop you from needing to hear it. From needing him to say it. So you’ve started to ask for it in…creative ways. “You’re all mine, right Caleb?” you murmur between pumps, savoring the pleas that fall from his lips.

“Forever,” he moans, glassy eyes trying their hardest to focus on your face. “Only yours. Only want to be yours.”

The fuzzy feeling inside you is a bit out of place in the moment, but as your heart swells, you decide not to care. Latching your lips onto his, you increase the pace of your strokes until he’s struggling to return your kiss, overwhelmed by the dual sensations. Giving him space to breathe, you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear: “Let go, Caleb. But remember, that belongs to me.”

And as your words envelop him, he spills into your hand with a mewling groan. After two more lazy pumps, you settle yourself back in his lap, positioned right over his twitching cock.

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek gently. He buries his face into your shoulder in response.

Chuckling, you ease his head back and gaze into his—your—violet eyes. “I almost forgot,” you add softly, placing a hand over the erratic thud in his chest. “This? This is mine, too.”

2K notes · View notes

solxamber · 5 months ago

Note

Imagine having mc take care of dorm leaders that turned into animals like riddle a hedgehog, leona a lion, Azul a octopus, kalim an otter, vil would definitely be a peacock, idia would be a cat, and lastly malleus a dragon. They would definitely turned into animals due to some spell and I mean imagine seeing a huge dragon outside the ramshackle dorm, it would be really shocking and funny at the same time. 😆

Zoo Tycoon: Housewarden Edition

In which they accidentally turn into animals.

a/n: i started vibrating the minute I saw this because that's such a cute concept and I have no self control so here we go

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle turning into a hedgehog was not on your to-do list today. But alas, here you were, holding a furious, tomato-colored hedgehog that refused to be handled by anyone but you.

“Aw, look at his little face!” Ace cooed, leaning in way too close.

Riddle puffed up, his tiny spines bristling in pure indignation. You could practically feel the how dare you emanating from his quivering form.

Deuce, ever the voice of concern, scratched his head. “What do we do now? Can he… even turn back?”

Ace smirked. “Maybe we just keep him like this. He’s a lot cuter when he can’t yell at us.”

Riddle launched himself at Ace’s hand, delivering a swift poke with his needle-sharp snout. Ace yelped, flailing backward dramatically. “Okay, okay! Geez, he’s still scary even like this.”

You cradled Riddle closer to your chest, where he settled down, still glaring daggers at the others. Somehow, he was perfectly content in your hands, even though he practically vibrated with rage whenever anyone else got near.

As the day went on, Riddle’s hedgehog antics only grew.

At lunch, he sat on your lap, sniffing your sandwich like a tiny food inspector. “You want a bite?” you teased, holding out a crumb.

His tiny paw batted it away with a disdainful look. Well, as disdainful as a hedgehog could manage. He turned his head toward the teapot, making his intentions very clear.

“Oh, of course. Tea for the hedgehog,” Ace snorted. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Later, in the library, Riddle climbed onto your textbook, curling up into a spiky ball to block your reading. You tried to nudge him gently. “Riddle, I need to study.”

He uncurled just enough to glare at you, his beady eyes burning with absolute authority. Message received: study time was over.

By nightfall, you were exhausted. Riddle was perched on a pillow next to you, looking surprisingly regal for a tiny woodland creature.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” you said, rubbing your temples. “How do we turn you back? Should we call Professor Crewel? Or maybe Professor Trein?”

Riddle chirped in protest, clearly not a fan of either option.

Deuce had another bright idea. “What if it’s, like, a true love’s kiss thing? Isn’t that how these fairy tale curses usually work?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

But Riddle fixed you with a surprisingly intense hedgehog stare, his little nose twitching.

“Wait, are you… agreeing?” you asked, mildly horrified.

Ace snickered. “Do it. Kiss the hedgehog. For science.”

After much internal debate (and external heckling), you sighed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Riddle’s tiny forehead.

There was a burst of light, and suddenly, you were nose-to-nose with a very human, very flustered Riddle Rosehearts.

He scrambled backward, covering his face with his hands. “W-well, that was… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” you echoed. “You asked for it!”

Ace howled with laughter in the background. “So it was true love’s kiss! You two are so gross!”

Riddle glared at him, but his ears were still bright red as he turned to you. “I suppose… I owe you my gratitude. And, um…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting. “Would you—if it’s not too much trouble—consider going out with me?”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re asking me out now?”

Riddle crossed his arms. “You did kiss me. It’s only proper!”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Sure, Hedgehog Prince. Let’s go on a date.”

Riddle muttered something about proper decorum, but his small smile said he wasn’t too upset about it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona turning into an actual lion wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened this week, but it was definitely in the top five.

“C’mon, Prefect.” Ruggie grinned as he all but shoved you into Leona’s room, slamming the door behind you before you could protest. “I got stuff to do, and someone’s gotta deal with him. He only listens to you anyway!”

You turned to find Leona—the lion version—lounging on his bed like the world’s crankiest housecat. His massive paws stretched lazily, his eyes locking onto you with the unmistakable air of finally, someone competent.

“Uh, hi, Leona,” you ventured, waving awkwardly.

He grumbled, a low rumble of approval that shook the floorboards, and flicked his tail in a way that said, Don’t leave.

It became clear very quickly that Lion Leona was just as much of a diva as Human Leona.

First, he refused to eat the steak that Ruggie brought him, pawing at it disdainfully until you had to personally cut it into perfect bite-sized pieces. He made a satisfied grunt after his meal, flopping down at your feet like you were the royal food taster he’d personally hired.

Then, there was the grooming incident.

“Leona, you have something stuck in your mane,” you said, pointing to a suspicious tangle.

He gave you a look that said, And?

Sighing, you grabbed a brush and carefully worked out the knot. To your shock, Leona let out a rumble that sounded suspiciously similar to a purr.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He blinked slowly, the feline equivalent of a smirk.

Ruggie, ever the opportunist, couldn’t resist stopping by to witness the chaos.

“Wow, Prefect, he’s basically a giant kitten with you around,” Ruggie teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Leona growled, a low warning rumble that sent Ruggie scurrying back. “Okay, okay! Sheesh, no need to get territorial. Have fun babysitting!”

You sighed, scratching behind Leona’s ears. “You’re really not helping my case, y’know.”

Leona just huffed and leaned into your touch, clearly unbothered.

By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the bed next to Leona, who was taking up approximately 80% of the mattress.

“You’re kinda cute like this,” you admitted, running your fingers through his mane. “Not that you’re not cute normally, but… y’know. Less grumpy.”

He gave you a look that somehow conveyed I am never not grumpy.

Feeling bold (and maybe a little delirious from exhaustion), you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden, blinding flash of light, and before you could process what was happening, Leona was back in his human form, lounging beside you with his trademark smirk.

“Well, well,” he drawled, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t know you felt that way, herbivore.”

You spluttered. “I—what—this was true love’s kiss?! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever—”

He leaned closer, cutting off your rant with a low chuckle. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now. So… dinner? Or are you gonna keep brushing my hair all night?”

Your brain short-circuited, but you managed a weak, “Dinner sounds good.”

Leona smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Smart choice.”

From outside, Ruggie’s muffled voice shouted, “Hey, did it work? Can I come back now, or is he still a murder machine?”

Leona groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Sevens, someone muzzle that guy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Leona’s side. Maybe being stuck with him wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

Azul Ashengrotto

To be fair, you weren’t exactly surprised when Jade and Floyd ambushed you outside Mostro Lounge. Their grins alone screamed mischief.

“Shrimpy~,” Floyd sing-songed, grabbing you by the arm. “C’mon, we need your help.”

“Azul’s having a little… situation,” Jade added with a cryptic smile. “And we think you’re the only one who can help.”

Before you could protest, you were unceremoniously dragged into Mostro Lounge, through a hidden door, and deposited in front of a massive aquarium. Inside was—

“Is that an octopus?” you asked, squinting.

The octopus—no, wait, Azul—floated pathetically in the corner, looking as done with life as an eight-legged creature could manage.

“Yep,” Floyd said cheerfully. “Boss turned himself into an octopus. Wouldn’t let anyone near him, though, so…”

Jade handed you a bottle filled with suspiciously glowing liquid. “Breathing potion. You’re going in.”

“Excuse me?!”

Before you could escape, Floyd picked you up like a sack of potatoes and dumped you into the tank.

You flailed briefly, realizing the potion worked—thank Sevens—but also realizing you were now face-to-face with Octopus Azul.

“Uh, hi?” you ventured, swimming awkwardly closer.

Azul didn’t respond, but one of his tentacles twitched and pointedly smacked the glass. You got the impression he was saying Why me?

“It’s not like I asked for this, y’know!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Your goons threw me in here!”

Azul floated closer, his large, round eyes narrowing as if to say Yes, and they will pay.

It didn’t take long for Azul to warm up to you, mostly because he realized you weren’t leaving.

“Are you sulking?” you teased after his sixth dramatic float to the other side of the tank.

A tentacle flicked water in your direction, splashing you.

“Hey!” You swam closer and poked him on the head. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Azul responded by curling a tentacle around your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Okay, fine, you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his squishy head. “There, happy?”

Azul’s tentacles tightened slightly, and you were 90% sure he was smug about it.

After what felt like hours of tentacle shenanigans (including one terrifying moment where Azul tried to steal your potion bottle), you sighed.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” you said, booping his forehead.

Azul blinked at you, his gaze softer than usual. He looked so pitiful and huggable that, without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a bright flash, and suddenly you were face-to-face with human Azul, who was sitting awkwardly in the shallow end of the tank, his face as red as a lobster.

“W-What did you just—”

“Oh my Sevens, you’re back!” you interrupted, relief washing over you. “Thank goodness, I thought I’d have to live in here forever!”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “I—thank you. For… that.”

“No problem,” you said breezily, though your face felt like it was on fire.

Azul hesitated, fiddling with his glasses. “Would you, ah, perhaps… accompany me to dinner? As a token of gratitude, of course!”

“Sure,” you said, smiling. “But only if you promise to stop turning yourself into an octopus.”

He flushed even deeper, complaining something about “unavoidable circumstances,” but you couldn’t help laughing. Maybe dating an occasionally-octopus Azul wouldn’t be so bad.

From outside the tank, Floyd’s voice rang out: “Aww, Boss finally grew a backbone! Way to go, Shrimpy!”

Azul groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

You patted his shoulder. “Welcome to my life.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You really should have known something was wrong when Jamil showed up at your doorstep, eyes bloodshot and twitching slightly.

“I need your help,” he said, and those four words alone should’ve been your cue to lock the door and pretend you weren’t home.

But you didn’t, and that’s how you ended up sitting in Kalim’s opulent room, staring at a very excited otter splashing around in a gold-lined kiddie pool.

“You’re telling me Kalim turned himself into this?” you asked, pointing at the small, slippery creature currently attempting to roll onto his back and failing.

“Yes,” Jamil said, deadpan, rubbing his temples. “And he refuses to let anyone near him. Except apparently you.”

Kalim—the otter—perked up at the sound of your voice, flipping over and waddling toward you. He made a happy chirping sound before flopping dramatically onto your lap, his tiny paws grabbing at your shirt.

“See?” Jamil muttered, folding his arms. “This is why you’re staying here. I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Kalim was, to put it mildly, a handful.

One moment, he was contentedly snuggling in your lap, and the next, he was zooming across the floor, knocking over priceless vases and dragging an entire silk curtain into his pool.

“Uh, Kalim?” you called, watching as he tried to balance a sparkling golden spoon on his nose. “Maybe we don’t need to destroy the room?”

Kalim chirped in protest, clearly having the time of his life. He then waddled over to you, clutching the spoon like it was a treasure, and deposited it in your lap with a proud squeak.

“Well, at least he’s sharing,” you muttered, patting his head.

From the corner, Jamil was silently mouthing “thank you” over and over like a man who had just been freed from a lifetime of torment.

Kalim’s kiddie pool was more like a miniature lagoon, complete with floating toys and what looked suspiciously like a jewel-encrusted raft.

At some point, Kalim decided it would be fun to drag you into the water.

“Hey—wait, no!” you yelped as his surprisingly strong little paws grabbed at your sleeve, pulling you toward the pool. “I’m not getting in there!”

Kalim chirped insistently, his big otter eyes boring into your soul.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “Don’t give me that look.”

He gave you the look.

Five minutes later, you were sitting in the pool, soaked and glaring at Jamil, who was clearly struggling not to laugh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snapped.

“Immensely,” Jamil said, smirking.

After hours of otter chaos—during which Kalim managed to steal your shoe, splash water in your face, and attempt to juggle three golden coins—you finally sat back with a sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, patting his head as he snuggled against you.

Kalim let out a happy chirp, his little paws clutching your hand. He looked so ridiculously adorable that, without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead.

There was a sudden burst of light, and when you opened your eyes, Kalim was sitting in front of you, back to his usual self—though still dripping wet and grinning ear to ear.

“You kissed me!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up like the sun.

“I—uh—well,” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Does this mean you like me?” he asked, tilting his head with an innocent smile.

Before you could respond, Jamil groaned from the corner. “Sevens, just ask them out already.”

Kalim turned to you, his grin widening. “Will you go out with me?”

You blinked at him, still processing the fact that you had just kissed an otter-turned-human. But then you smiled, nodding.

“Sure, Kalim.”

Kalim cheered, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocked you over. Meanwhile, Jamil sighed in relief, celebrating about finally getting some peace and quiet.

From the doorway, a passing student peeked in, took one look at the drenched mess of a room, and decided it was better not to ask.

Vil Schoenheit

The day Vil Schoenheit turned into a peacock was the day you realized that your life at NRC was destined to never be normal.

“I don’t know how it happened!” Epel blurted, waving his hands in panic. “One second he was lecturing me about my skincare routine, and the next—poof! Peacock!”

“Of course, he’s a peacock,” you muttered, staring at the magnificent bird perched on the Pomefiore chaise lounge. The peacock in question—Vil—looked at you with a familiar haughty glare, which was impressive considering he now had beady bird eyes.

From the very beginning, Vil made it clear that he refused to be handled by anyone except you.

When Rook tried to approach him with a soothing poem about the beauty of nature, Vil screeched so loudly it sent even the huntsman scrambling.

When Epel tried to shoo him toward the door, Vil flared his tail feathers in a display so intimidating that Epel backed away, muttering, “This is worse than when he makes me wear lip gloss.”

But when you stepped forward, Vil immediately strutted over, his glossy feathers shimmering under the light. He circled you once before settling at your feet, letting out a dignified coo.

“Well, at least someone likes me,” you muttered, kneeling down to pat his head.

Vil preened under your touch, looking every bit the diva he was even in bird form.

Life with peacock Vil was… an adventure.

For one, he refused to eat anything that wasn’t served on fine china.

“Are you serious?” you asked, holding up a bowl of birdseed.

Vil turned his head away with a disdainful chirp, his tail feathers twitching in annoyance.

“Fine,” you groaned, dumping the seed onto a porcelain plate. “Happy now?”

Vil cooed in approval, delicately pecking at the food like it was a Michelin-star meal.

Then there was the incident with the mirror.

You found him perched in front of the Pomefiore vanity, admiring his reflection with an intensity that could only be described as borderline obsessive.

“You’re really leaning into the peacock thing, huh?” you teased.

Vil shot you a look that screamed How dare you, you pleb? before returning to his reflection, fluffing his feathers dramatically.

After a few days of peacock antics—including Vil refusing to let Epel touch his feathers (Glaring at him like he was screaming "He’s going to ruin them!”) and scaring off an unfortunate group of first-years with his aggressive tail display—you decided enough was enough.

“Alright, Vil,” you said, sitting down beside him. “We need to figure out how to fix this.”

Vil cooed softly, nuzzling against your hand.

You stared at him, your heart melting a little. He was undeniably cute in his current form, but you missed the human Vil—the one who could scold you for slouching and deliver a flawless monologue at the drop of a hat.

Without thinking, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his feathered head.

There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, you were no longer holding a peacock but a very human—and very flustered—Vil Schoenheit.

“You… kissed me,” he said, his cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of pink.

“I—uh—well, you were cute?” you offered weakly.

Vil blinked at you, his usual composure slipping as he processed your words. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Perhaps we should make this official,” he said smoothly, though the faint blush on his face betrayed his nerves. “Would you like to go out with me?”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. Then, you smiled, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Vil’s smile widened, and for the first time since he’d turned back, you saw the confident, radiant Vil you knew and admired.

From the doorway, Rook peeked in, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Ah, the beauty of true love!”

Epel groaned, muttering, “This is the weirdest dorm ever.”

Idia Shroud

The day you were unceremoniously dragged into Idia’s room by Ortho, you knew something was amiss.

Ortho clasped his hands together as you stumbled inside. "Please take good care of Big Brother!"

“Wait, what?” you started, but Ortho was already zooming out the door, leaving you alone in the darkened chaos that was Idia’s sanctuary.

And there, sitting in the middle of the room on a glowing gaming chair, was a cat.

A very grumpy-looking cat with blue flame-like fur tips and unmistakable, judgmental yellow eyes.

“Idia?” you whispered, staring at the cat.

The cat hissed—its ears flat against its head. Yep, that was definitely Idia.

"Ortho wasn’t joking…" you muttered, inching closer.

Idia-the-cat glared at you, his tail swishing like a disapproving metronome. But as soon as you reached out a cautious hand, he hesitated before begrudgingly letting you scratch behind his ears.

He let out the tiniest, most reluctant purr.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your grin growing. “You’re so cute like this.”

The purring immediately stopped, and Idia swatted your hand away with a mortified meow that screamed, Don’t push it.

It didn’t take long for you to realize Idia-the-cat was just as much of a shut-in as his human counterpart.

When you tried to offer him some cat toys Ortho had left behind, he ignored them completely—until you dangled a toy shaped like a gaming controller.

Then, he lunged at it with surprising ferocity, claws out and eyes gleaming with an intensity that said, This is serious business.

You had to stop him from knocking over his prized figurines while he chased the toy across the room.

“Idia, stop! That’s a limited edition!” you cried, diving to save a teetering anime girl statue.

Idia froze mid-pounce, his tail twitching guiltily.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, setting the figure back on its shelf. “You’re worse than Grim.”

Idia meowed in protest, and you could swear he was rolling his eyes.

After a few hours of babysitting Cat Idia—during which he refused to eat anything but snacks from his secret stash and managed to trap himself inside a VR headset—you were completely exhausted.

You flopped onto his bed, sighing. “Idia, you're my friend, but you’re so much work.”

The cat jumped up beside you, curling into a surprisingly neat ball. His flame-like fur glowed softly in the dim light, and for a moment, he actually looked peaceful.

Unable to resist, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his head.

There was a sudden flash of blue light, and you yelped as a very human—and very embarrassed—Idia Shroud appeared beside you.

“W-What just happened?!” he stammered, his face as red as his fiery hair tips.

You blinked at him, your brain struggling to reboot. “Uh… I think true love’s kiss broke the curse?”

Idia froze, his expression cycling between mortified and completely panicked.

“Wait, d-does that mean you… like me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if you don’t, I-I’m just gonna go dig my own grave now—”

You cut him off with a laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I like you, you dummy.”

Idia stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, after a moment, he managed a small, shy smile.

“I… like you too,” he mumbled, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “So, uh… do you maybe wanna… go out? Like, on a d-date or something?”

Your heart did a little flip. “I’d love that.”

From the doorway, Ortho peeked in, his face lighting up. “Brother, I knew you could do it! This is the best day ever!”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Ortho, please!”

But despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t stop the small smile that lingered on his lips.

Malleus Draconia

The day began like any other—except for the part where a massive dragon blocked the sunrise by parking itself right outside your window.

You blinked blearily, rubbing your eyes. Surely, this was a dream.

Then you heard an enthusiastic voice from below. "Good morning! Do you like your new dragon?"

You leaned out the window to see none other than Lilia Vanrouge, waving up at you with far too much cheer for this absurd situation. Beside him, Sebek was on his knees, his fists clenched, eyes practically bleeding tears of devotion—or frustration. Hard to tell with Sebek.

“Lilia,” you called down, “what the hell is that?” You pointed at the dragon, who was now looking at you with suspiciously familiar glowing green eyes.

“Oh, that’s Malleus!” Lilia replied, as though this was completely normal. “He seems to have had a little… magical mishap.”

“MISTAKE OF FATE, NOT A MISHAP!” Sebek roared, glaring up at you like it was somehow your fault. “AND THE YOUNG MASTER HAS CHOSEN YOU TO TEND TO HIS NOBLE FORM!”

You stared at the dragon—Malleus—again. His enormous tail thudded against the ground in what you could only assume was agreement.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

After some coaxing (read: being dragged out by Sebek while you were still in your pajamas), you found yourself face-to-face with Dragon Malleus.

He lowered his massive head toward you, his glowing eyes narrowing in what you could only describe as smugness. When you hesitated, he huffed, a cloud of warm smoke billowing over you.

“Okay, okay, I get it! You want attention,” you grumbled, reaching up to pat his snout.

The dragon let out a low rumble of approval, curling his tail protectively around you.

Sebek sobbed dramatically in the background. “TO THINK THE YOUNG MASTER TRUSTS YOU ABOVE ALL OTHERS! IT IS BOTH AN HONOR AND A TRAVESTY!”

“Sebek, for the love of the Seven, stop yelling,” you snapped. “I already have a headache.”

Lilia chuckled from his perch on a nearby tree. “Oh, this is delightful. I wonder if I should be worried for you or amused by Malleus’s possessiveness.”

Dragon Malleus growled at Lilia, his tail sweeping protectively in front of you like a giant scaly barrier.

“Noted, noted!” Lilia said with a laugh, holding up his hands.

After a day of being followed around by a giant dragon who wouldn’t let you out of his sight (and growled at anyone who dared approach), you were officially at your wit’s end.

“Malleus,” you said, crossing your arms. “I know you’re stuck like this, but you can’t just… kidnap me for emotional support!”

Malleus blinked at you, his big dragon eyes somehow managing to look both sheepish and stubborn.

You sighed, stepping closer. “You’re kind of cute like this, though,” you admitted, reaching up to scratch his snout. His eyes half-closed in contentment, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Then, on a whim, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his scaly cheek.

There was a sudden burst of magic, and you stumbled back as the massive form of the dragon shimmered and shrank. In its place stood a very human—and very flustered—Malleus Draconia.

“Child of Man,” he said, his face uncharacteristically red. “Your… your kiss… it broke the spell.”

You stared at him, your brain buffering. “Wait, true love’s kiss was the answer?!”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

From behind you, Lilia cackled. “Oh, how romantic! A tale for the ages!”

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “T-T-THE YOUNG MASTER’S TRUE LOVE?! UNBELIEVABLE!”

Malleus stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked down at you. “If this spell has revealed anything, it is that my feelings for you are genuine. Will you allow me to court you properly?”

You blinked, your face heating up. “Uh… yeah. Sure. But maybe next time, we skip the whole ‘giant possessive dragon’ thing?”

Malleus chuckled, taking your hand. “Anything for you, my treasure.”

Sebek fainted on the spot.

Masterlist

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toji-bunny-girl · 8 months ago

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bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania.

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them.

15,900 yen.

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart.

Oh, how he would love to play saviour.

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear.

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar.

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter.

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then.

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door.

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home.

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked.

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble.

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence.

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league.

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?”

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground.

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation.

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face.

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him.

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids.

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face.

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb.

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled.

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty.

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core.

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines.

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch.

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth.

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate.

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness.

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence.

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him.

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space.

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass.

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle.

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks.

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him.

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his.

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness.

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass.

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils.

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.”

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting.

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car.

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then.

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers.

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief.

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body.

You almost fell in love.

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips.

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot.

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words.

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock.

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

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