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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮��💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

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

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

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antiquarianfics · 6 months ago

Text

Accidental pt. 4

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: it’s my birthday, so let’s celebrate with their date 🤭

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 3

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, catching the man's attention before he gets back into the SUV. He raises an eyebrow, you smirk. "Tell James he better damn well bring flowers."

—

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out your blouse. You turn to the side to see the back of your outfit and straighten back out again.

“You’re wearing pants to a fancy date with a crime lord?” Ellie asks, judgement lacing her question. You turn and raise an eyebrow at her, crossing the room to find the loafers you planned to wear.

“Yeah. Problem?” You ask, not really caring about Ellie’s opinion of your date attire. After all, it’s really more of a business transaction than a date.

“Yes! He’s probably expecting a dress, heels! Something low cut! You’re supposed to look sexy! You,” she pauses, gesturing to your body with an exasperated hand motion, “look like a JCPenney commercial.”

You scoff, a smirk teasing your lips. “Ellie, I don’t care. First of all, I can run a hell of a lot easier in loafers than heels, in slacks than a dress. Second of all,” you pick up your handgun where it lie on your dresser and check the safety, “I can’t hide this as easily in a dress.” Once you’re satisfied the safety is on, you tuck the gun away in the back of your pants, pulling your blouse back down over it. You look in the mirror again and fiddle with the tucking.

“Should I French tuck this?”

“Yes,” Ellie says distractedly before continuing. “But, Y/N, this guy is dangerous. You should play it safe. It’s just a date, so be who he obviously wants you to be.”

You sigh, turning back around to look your sister in the eyes.

“Ellie,” you say, tone dead serious. “Why are you so afraid of him? What did he do to you?”

Ellie blanches and doesn’t say anything. You sigh again turning back around to the mirror to fiddle with your hair, making sure it’s out of your face.

“I never saw him,” Ellie says suddenly. You watch her through the mirror where she sits on your bed staring at her hands. “I never saw him,” she starts again, “but I don’t think I was important enough for him to spare me his attention.

“I was at home making dinner when his men came for me. There was knock on the door, and when I answered, they stuck a bag over my head. Next thing I knew, I was in a dank, small room. There was a mattress on the floor for me to sleep, a toilet. Nothing else. I was there for maybe two days before someone came for me. I was taken to a conference room. There was a man there. I forget his name, but he was tall. Blond. He asked if I knew why I was there, I said I did, and he asked if I had any way to repay what I owed.”

“What did you owe?”

“750,000 dollars.”

“Ellie! How do you—? What? How?” You’re shocked, unable to comprehend how your baby sister could owe anyone so much.

“I… I met this guy, Zemo. We were just friends, but he started taking me around his friends. His friends hung out in these speakeasy type clubs. They played poker and stuff. I don’t know. I usually just watched, but after a few times, they talked me into it. Told me it was easy money, and, Y/N, I needed the money! So, I played, and I was doing really well. So I kept playing long after Zemo and his buddies left. I made so much down there, but I got too cocky and I lost an all-or-nothing. I played again to try and win it back, but it was like I’d lost my mojo, like I’d been playing on beginner’s luck.”

“Ellie,” you say sympathetically.

“I was $750,000 in debt and I couldn’t pay it, but the man I’d lost to—I think he felt bad—he said I could have 72 hours to get him his money. If I didn’t get him the money in time…” She trails off and you realize you’re clenching your jaw. You consciously unclench it. Ellie takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “He said if I didn’t get the money to him in 72 hours he would just have to find another way for me to pay him back. I don’t really know what he meant by that.

Anyway, the blond man asked if I could repay the money. I said no. He looked… sympathetic? He told me I’d have to go back to the cell until they could find use for me. I was there until they brought me home.”

You sit next to her on the bed, circling your arm around her. “Elle, I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come to me for help. I would’ve helped.”

“You don’t have that money, either. Plus, you are helping.”

“I guess.”

“What time is it?”

“6:30.”

“Are you nervous?” Ellie asks.

“I accidentally kidnapped the most powerful man in the city and threatened his life, sis. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically.

Ellie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the ringing of your doorbell and a knock on the door. The two of you exchange a surprised look and you double check your watch: 6:34.

“He’s early,” you say, standing as you take a deep breath and try to swallow your nerves.

“Hey, you’ve got this. I know it,” Ellie reassures you, but she makes no move to follow you as you leave the room and go to make good on your end of yours and James’ bargain. You’re settling her debt and she makes no further move to support you.

You sigh as you reach the front door, swallowing your nerves and the tiny bit of resentment for your sister forming. Swinging the door open, you come face to face with the same man you had kidnapped and assaulted the day before: James Barnes.

James is looking around him when you open the door, but his attention is immediately on you as the door opens. His striking blue eyes meet yours, take in your person, and meet your eyes again. He grins.

“You look beautiful, Doll,” he says. He sounds breathless, completely blown away. You give him a questioning look, still so unsure of his motives.

“Thank you. You clean up nice. Not being tied up to a chair suits you,” you say. Your words come out funny. The ‘thank you’ sounds somewhat genuine but the compliment comes out somewhat strained, like you’re not sure you should be saying it.

James ignores your tone and lets his grin widen. He then takes a hand out from behind his back—you hadn’t even noticed his hand was behind his back—and hands you a bouquet of blue hyacinths. You just stare at them for a while as your brain attempts to catch up with your eyes.

“You actually brought flowers.”

“You threatened me again,” he teases.

“James, I…” You trail off, speechless. You wonder how you keep getting away with threatening him. Most people would be, at best, locked away, at worst, dead.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name,” he says, “is Bucky.”

You let your eyes trail from the hyacinths up to his eyes (you can’t help but notice they’re the same color), and you think that he looks shy—timid. James—Bucky—looks like he is nervous to ask you to call him by this other name.

“Bucky?” You ask, and, against your better judgment, as you ask it, you pull back your front door and step aside, inviting him into your home. He looks equally surprised you’d do such a thing, but he enters, taking a few steps into the corridor before pausing to look around and to wait on you. You close the door behind you and lead him to the kitchen where you pull out a vase for the flowers.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s—erm—a nickname. It’s what my friends call me.”

“We’re friends?” You ask skeptically.

“Well, no, but we’re going on a date. ‘James’ is just a little formal,” he says, wrinkling his nose at his own name.

You offer him a friendly smile (which surprises you). “Well, Bucky, you’re lucky I’m ready because you’re, like, half an hour early.”

Bucky has the decency to look embarrassed, but he ignores the accusation. “Well,” he says instead, “shall we go?”

You nod and follow him out to his car. Once you make it to the vehicle, Bucky opens the car door for you, carefully shutting it behind you. He takes his spot in the driver’s seat a moment later.

You let out a breathy laugh and he side eyes you as he starts the car.

“What?”

“Nothing! I just sort of expected you to have a driver. You’re just… surprising.”

He smiles at your admission. “Careful, Doll. Someone might think you like me.”

“Doubtful.”

It’s not a long drive to what is certainly a high class establishment—an establishment nicer than any you’ve been to before. Bucky gets out of the car, rushing to let you out. As you get out of the car, he offers his keys to the valet and his arm to you. You glance briefly at his arm and give him an annoyed look as you loop your arm through his.

Bucky escorts you to the double glass doors that lead to the restaurant where a doorman waits to open the door for you. You say “thank you” as you pass and Bucky gives you an unreadable look. Then, once inside the restaurant, Bucky whispers something to the host who nods and leads you towards the back and up some stairs that lead to a glass enclosed landing where two guards stand on either side of the door leading to the rooftop seating. Bucky lets go of your arm and steps forward as the male security guard mirrors him. The guard pats Bucky down, finds a handgun tucked away in a holster at his waist, takes it, and then allows him to step to the side so that you may take your turn.

Your breathing picks up ever so slightly as you watch Bucky get frisked, especially once you realize they’re going to frisk you, too. You start to worry when you realize they’re going to find a weapon on you—how is that going to play out? Will Bucky go back on his word? Will he kill you? Then, when they take away Bucky’s weapon, you remind yourself to breathe normally and regain some confidence. He brought a gun, too: he doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him.

You step forward, making eye contact with Bucky the whole time. You hold your arms out ever so slightly as the female guard steps forward to frisk you. You raise an eyebrow—maybe you’re challenging him to do something—when the guard finds your gun and pulls it out of your waistband. She holds it up and offers you a “seriously?” look, which you see in your peripheral. You shrug at her, eyes still on Bucky. He’s smirking.

The two of you are then led by the host through the guarded door to a single table that sits on the balcony. The balcony has been well decorated with myriad plants and string lights. There’s soft music playing in the background. Bucky pulls out a chair for you and you sit, watching as he takes the seat across from you. The two of you just watch each other as the host offers you menus and promises a waiter will be with you soon. Once the host is gone, the two of you sit, watching, waiting.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” you finally say, picking up the menu. If he isn’t going to say anything, you decide, you’re going to play coy.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, letting out a laugh and looking away before returning is gaze to you.

“You brought a gun to our date,” he says.

“So did you,” you reply, still looking at the menu. “Is the chicken alfredo any good here?”

“What for?” He asks, ignoring the alfredo question.

You sigh, setting down the menu. “Why did you?”

“You held me at gunpoint the last time we met. How was I to know you wouldn’t try to finish the job?”

“I held you at gunpoint the last time we met, but I had you tied up. How was I to know you wouldn’t take the shot now that your hands aren’t tied?”

“We’re here because I already shot my shot.”

“Clever.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’ve given you every reason to.”

He laughs humorlessly. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

“Why am I here, James? Why don’t you want to hurt me? Aren’t you supposed to be some big, scary crime lord? Because you’re not living up to your name.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away. You think you’ve maybe finally struck a nerve, finally gone too far.

“Have you ever once considered, Y/N, that maybe—just maybe—I’m a person, too? Did you ever think you were capable of threatening someone’s life until necessity made you?” You flinch. He notices. “I have a shitty job. I do shitty things. I do even shittier things to even shittier people. But it’s the job I was given, the job I have, and the job I do. Maybe I’m a monster, a freak, an emotionless robot, but maybe that’s just what I have to be so I don’t go crazy. At the end of the day, I’m just a man who wants to live his life, so forgive me for wanting to do that.”

Bucky is breathing erratically. He’s worked up. You stare, mouth slightly agape, surprised. You have a feeling he’s felt this way a while and never had the chance to voice it, but you also realize that your existence in his life might be more to him than just some girl who wants her sister back, some girl who extorted him.

“You actually like me,” you say, genuinely surprised.

He looks at you, eyes softening and looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got terrible taste.”

He laughs. “That so?”

“I never even introduced myself. You clearly only know my name because you know who my sister is and put two and two together. I’ve been terrible to you. I mean, I have my totally logical and understandable reasons, but I’ve been terrible.”

“That’s true, but I was holding your sister hostage. Not the best conditions. I’m sure she’s thrilled about all this.” He gestures to the table in front of you, the two of you.

“She recognizes I’m cleaning up her mess.”

Bucky looks at you, expression sad.

“Cleaning up her mess,” he repeats quietly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, louder, more confident.

“What?”

“This date. You don’t want to be here. You’re not interested. I get it. You’re cleaning up your sister’s mess. You can just go,” he says, looking far off onto the horizon. “Don’t worry about Ellie. Her debt’s forgotten.”

You don’t move. You sit, you stare, you chew your lip, and you consider the man in front of you. You consider the handsome, powerful, sad man in front of you who—to your surprise—is genuinely interested in you. You make a decision.

You hear your chair scrape against the floor as you stand up and start to walk back towards the door. You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob!bucky #mob!au #mafia au

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youneedsomeprompts · 9 months ago

Text

~ I LONG FOR YOU ~ LONG DISTANCE PINING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous request: Any chance you could do some long distance pining? Like, one person has a crush on the other but they only know each other through online stuff and feel hopeless that they could ever be together

Feel free to use and reblog!

spending hours daydreaming about the other

the hours of long distance talks/chats create much deeper connections than with people they see every day

'let me tell you about my greatest fears and darkest childhood traumas while we both lay in our comfy beds many miles apart'

not sharing a single aspect of their daily lives, they consider how the other would react to this aspect or that aspect if they were with them for the day

*oh, [person B] would love how silly that cute dog looks! I have to tell them later!*

the other knows everything about your home/home town/the people you meet every day because you told them about every smallest detail

they're connecting mostly about shared thoughts and sentiments because that is what best translates over large distances

ordering the same food so that they can eat together and pretend they're on a real date

"Describe to me exactly where you're at, how you are. I want to feel like I'm right there with you."

"You're the only one who truly gets me."

"Imagine how unstoppable we were if the universe put us on the same spot on earth. We'd be too powerful, that's why we have to suffer this separation. It's only for the best of the others."

"Ugh, it just sucks that I can't hug you right now! I need to be in your arms."

"I hate that I can't promise you it'll get better. I don't know if there is ever a way for us to get over this long distance issue."

"I know you even though I never met you, and I don't think I can say that about anyone else. I don't know anyone, and no ones knows me. Only you. You know me."

"I've got a surprise. I'm coming over." "You're lying. I know you can't come over." "But what if I can?"

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sugawarassoulmate · 1 year ago

Text

something about sugawara just screams free use to me 🥴

omg it feels so long since i've used these pictures lmao

word count: 685

cw: fem!reader, dub-con, consent implied, free use, public sex, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), minors dni

he just likes having you whenever and wherever he wants. it's hard to tell him no when he makes you feel so good.

you could be talking on the phone with a friend and here comes suga settling himself between your legs. rolling your eyes, you already know what's on his mind and try to focus on the conversation when you feel him take off your shorts and underwear to eat you out.

it's hard to maintain focus when he's sucking your clit like he needs it to survive but he'll scold you for hanging up on your friend so rudely.

but he won't stop until you're whining on the phone or you end the call and buck into his mouth to get yourself off. he has a habit of torturing you that way.

at least that's better than the time he walked into the dressing room where you were trying on clothes.

"kou—" you whispered-yelled but it didn't stop suga from lifting up your skirt and pushing your panties aside.

"you looked so pretty showing me all your outfits," he said, stroking his cock before sinking into the warmth of your cunt. "you'll let me play with you a little bit, yeah?"

he doesn't give you much time to think before he starts fucking you right there in the fitting room.

suga covers your mouth so you can't protest - or cry out from the pleasure and alert the closest employee.

"we should keep this dress, baby," he says sweetly, tugging at the top to make your breasts spill out. "it fits you so well. like a glove."

he hits that spot that turns your legs into jelly and, even with his hand on your mouth, a shrill cry escapes you.

suga slows down his thrust, never fully stopping, when he hears the quiet sounds of footsteps outside the door. "is everything alright?" the associate asks with a knock.

"we're fine! she just got her hair stuck in a zipper," he said confidently. even behind a door, he can still charm anyone he meets.

"ok, if you need any help, i'll be around!" the employee says before walking away.

you're not sure if it's the thrill of being caught or your embarrassment that eggs suga on but that brief interaction just makes him fuck you harder.

he's at his most devious when he catches you sleeping on the couch, a paused youtube video that has long since been forgotten on the tv.

this happens a lot. you'll take naps during the day when you're too tired from cooking, cleaning, or doing your own work while you wait for sugawara to come home.

when suga catches you in these moments, his favorite thing to do is position you on your back and pull your shorts down.

he never tries to be discreet - suga enjoys waking you up with his cock. he loves seeing your sweet face contort in pleasure even in slumber.

"feels good doesn't it baby," he whispers into your skin, fucking you just as hard and deep as he would if you were conscious. "making me happy even when you're sleepy, i'm so lucky."

suga doesn't just stop at fucking you, he's rubbing his fingers against your clit and using his free hand to pull your top down to suck at your tits.

he won't stop until you've woken up, which usually happens when you're about to cum. you'll start breathing heavily and paw at suga's arms in a desperate attempt to grasp onto something.

"k-kou? kou—oh god," you whine, thighs trapping suga as pleasure racks through your still sleepy body.

you came around him, body shaking the entire time and suga could live off of it. he loves having you as his plaything that he can dump his cum into over and over again.

suga doesn't bother cleaning you up after both of you come. usually, he would but instead, he pulls your panties back on and kisses you.

"get some rest, babe. gonna fuck you again in an hour," he says and suga has always been a man of his word.

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #sugawara smut #sugawara koushi smut #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #koushi sugawara smut #koshi sugawara smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #🍑#🍑suga

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gladiatorcunt · 3 months ago

Text

- LIFE OF THE PARTY | IX.

take a breath, you’re the

cw: kinktober prompt (non con-ish, more of the aftermath), past non con threesome (between 18 year olds) w/ suguru, coercion, mentions of blood and virginity loss, past bully-ish satory, frat boy!satoru + nanami, toji (who’s the same age), sukuna, choso, & suguru, goth & tatted reader who has a vagina, non con voyeurism (?) and video sharing, implied the rest of the boys x reader (choso a little more implied), being attracted to the man who assaulted you and making poor decisions out of a need for survival, ooc!satoru, non linear moments, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

TWO YEARS AGO | ????’s Dorm Bathroom

“I’m the one that stuck around after I got my dick wet.”

He should’ve told you that he loved you, he should’ve shoved Suguru off of you when he had his turn and bashed his head into the tile. He should've cleaned you up and cuddled you in a bubble bath back at his apartment. What he did was wipe up the copious amounts cum and saliva up with your underwear and it wasn’t until he turned around so you could get dressed that he noticed the blood. On the floor, on your panties, dripping off his still hard cock. Satoru didn’t get to care about his heart falling out of his ass and straight into hell, because how absurd is it that this is the moment when he finally understands that his actions have consequences. Toy trains don’t run anymore when you play with them so roughly that their wheels fall off.

“I didn’t go in raw with her, ‘s not like you, I couldn't even stay hard until I looked at the pic of you I have by my bed. I brought it over.”

So why did he look at your limp body and still expect you to move? Didn’t you notice that you weren’t alone? Do you not care? His brain hadn’t caught up with his body when he ruined everything, and he wishes he had your first time in a bed, filled with only him. You weren’t paying attention to him anymore and he couldn’t understand why that made him so angry. He didn’t need you, Gojo Satoru doesn’t need anybody. He made no effort to stop the mean whispers about you from his friend group and he didn’t apologize for the way he “bullied” you in high school for having a stalker-y crush on him when you saw each other at orientation. But you looked so beautiful then, you still did when you were shaking on the cold floor in front of him. Staring all bug eyed up at the flickering artificial light, he wanted to scream when he hovered over you and your eyes didn’t focus on him.

In hindsight, that was a lot of words to use when he only needed three.

Satoru has to belong to everybody, but nothing ever has to belong to him. He has privileges that he earns by simply existing, but it can all be taken away from him with a single order. Is it so bad that he held you so tightly your bones broke and your guts spilled in between his fingers? That he wanted to stick your cells under a microscope so he could know you more intimately than anyone ever could? From the very moment he met you, he could tell that you truly understood him, and who would ever want to give that up?

If being irresponsible with money means splurging on a tattoo to make yourself feel better when you should really be buying groceries? Then you’ll put the shoe on and won’t whine when it fits. You’ve been in a god awful slump lately. Your assignments barely get turned in on time and you go weeks without brushing your teeth because you can’t be bothered to get off your ass for two minutes. So when Choso updated his tattoo shops instagram saying that they’re available for bookings, you jumped on the opportunity.

It’s your favorite place anyway, and you wouldn’t feel as comfortable getting a tattoo from someone that wasn’t working there. Even Sukuna, who makes a big show of acting all tough but will let you get pieces done for free if they’re from him. He’ll drive you home on his bike when a session runs a little late and you’re worried about walking home alone.

You have a lot of fondness for the place and its people, except for a certain gage wearing individual, but you’re trying to repress all that. He definitely doesn’t make it easy for you, he’s somehow always able to know when you’re coming and gets himself in the receptionist’s chair so you have to talk to him. He stares you down with his empty black orbs the entire time during an appointment, and the veins in his arms bulge when you inhale as the needle pierces your skin. He makes “jokes” that he'd be so gentle with you if you let him, and you don’t have the heart to speak up over a stern “Suguru.” He raises his hands in surrender and backs off, because he knows there’s always next time.

You fumble through your bag as you prepare to leave your dorm, making sure you’ve got everything. Sunscreen to re apply over your makeup later? Check. Your phone (with several texts from an unknown number flashing on the screen)? Check. Your wallet stuffed to the brim with old receipts and cards that you probably keep at home? Check.

You get almost five steps out the door before you crash into a solid chest. Your ‘oof’ is muffled by the stranger’s shirt, and when you take a step back you recognize it as a compression shirt that's gotten popular with a lot of the guys on campus. That’s why the muscle you collided with felt particularly…. firm.

“Hi, cutie! Fancy seeing you here.” Satoru chuckles, like he isn’t literally outside your dorm.

And just like that, all the good vibes and hopes you had for your day shrivel up and die.

It’s a shame that Satoru does look good in the shirt, the black sleeves cut off at the perfect point on his arms and he’s been good at knowing which trends will suit him better than the millions of other people buying into them. His eyes stand out in the dark fabric, as blue as you remember them and as terrifying. You gape at him for what must be a solid minute before your features twist up into a scowl and you’re darting around him to walk away.

“I live here, now fuck off or kill yourself, I don’t care.” You shout over your shoulder, praying that he doesn’t take off after you.

“Aw, that’s mean, babe! But I know you’d miss me too much, so I won’t do either of those. Have a good day!” You don’t hear him leave as he responds, but you’re past the point of obsessively cataloging Satoru Gojo’s every movement.

Your roommate let him in, in more ways than one.

“Alright, there we go. You’re all set, i’ll meet you at the counter and we’ll get you out of here.” Choso touch is light as a feather as he does the cleaning on your freshly tattooed skin.

A skeletal pattern over your hand, knuckles and all.

The sound of him snapping his black glove against his wrist makes you jump but he smiles, doing it again with a tender look in his eyes. He wipes down your finished tattoo and you grab your bag, heading to the counter to pay.

“You took it really well, I should've known you would when you told me you came in for a tattoo on one of the most painful areas of your body on purpose.” Choso teases, punching in your card details at the front.

They run a small parlor and are usually short staffed since most of the employees are also in the biggest frat at school and end up doing most of their appointments in whatever room’s available at a party. The shop’s not the most legal operation in general, but Choso and the others all did their apprenticeships right at 18 so they could have a place of their own as soon as possible. And so they could do their own ink and jewelry for free. Sukuna, Toji, Suguru, all of them got their piercing licenses too. Nanami’s their accountant. Satoru’s really the only one who isn't directly involved with the place.

It’s bad enough that one of your attackers always has a chance of being here, but it’s cheap and you feel a sense of comfort with Choso. That familiarity might be why you end up paying a lot less than you should, but it gives you butterflies to consider that as a possibility.

“Yeah, is it bad that I just thought it was cool? I don’t have any symbolic connection to it or anything.” You joke, thinking about how your mom would always say she’d prefer a tiny one, a flower on your shoulder or something like that for your first tattoo.

You’re a free pieces deep, each one nothing like she would have picked for yourself. You started getting them after the… incident, and it’s incredible how freeing it can be to explore your style and have everything on your body be 100% your decision.

Sukuna, the one with the closest workstation to the counter snorts, “Choso did some nice work on you, kitty.”

You roll your eyes, Choso’s younger brother never fails to hit on you whenever you find your way back into their shop.

Toji, done with his tongue piercing appointment, steadies a hand on his woozy client’s shoulder and looks over to you. “Sure did, must be why Suguru can’t keep his beady orbs off of ya. Not that I blame him.”

You stiffen, feeling said man’s eyes slither up and down your body, leaving a trail of tar and molasses that keeps you from immediately bolting. A fly preserved in amber, encrusted in gnarled old tree bark.

You don’t look back over your shoulder at him but you hear him chuckle and swat Toji upside the head, “Nah, just got a lot on my mind is all. I’m double booked. Your tat’s cool though, wish i could’ve done it in my style.”

The ‘It probably would’ve looked better’ is left unsaid.

Choso raises an eyebrow and reaches out to grab your wrist as he hands back your card, he strokes a line down your pulse point

“I think I did just fine, I'm the one you keep coming back to anyway, no matter how painful it gets.”

He ducks his head down when your heart skips a beat, wrestling with his smug grin.

A stormy look comes over Suguru’s expression but it’s gone in a flash of purple lightning when his client walks in through the door.

It’s when you say a reluctant goodbye to Choso and leave the parlor to head towards the nearest grocery store that your phone goes off.

It’s from an unknown number but you know exactly who it is, you’ve blocked Satoru multiple times and he keeps coming back with a different number.

The message is a single video without an accompanying taunt, and you really shouldn’t, but your morbid curiosity wins out.

You notice your roommate's ankle bracelet slung over his shoulder very quickly, you also see more of her stretched out pussy than you ever wanted to.

Satoru chuckles behind the camera, zooming in on where their bodies are joined, he’s fucking her raw and her folds look startlingly red. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t bullshit through any bad dirty talk or narration for the audience (of one). A blessing, all things considered, he loved to yap your ears off when he took you. Satoru Gojo is rarely ever silent, even when deep down he doesn’t feel much like talking.

But he’s gone quiet as a church mouse, the only sounds coming from your phone are sticky smacks of bare flesh against bare flesh and your roommate’s muffled moans. Anytime she tries to scream, Satoru tightens his grip on her mouth and slaps her tits, which becomes a vicious cycle.

The video shows his torso at an angle, fat pecs and chiseled abs glistening as they clench. He has a fucking smoking hot body, one that you wish you weren’t forced to know more intimately than the girl who in that moment is currently all up on it.

You watch when she cums around him, a car running into a tree, but you click out of the video when Satoru cums inside her, a cargo train crashing through the car AND the tree.

Your mind is as scattered as those bits of debri and human flesh, welded to the tracks but you can feel movement above and around you.

Nanami’s hand cups your shoulder when you’re distracted during your study session later that day, he’s tutoring you in french for free and you’ve taken absolute advantage of the opportunity. It’s just one of those fuzzy days for you, especially since you can’t stop thinking of the video.

“Everything okay?” He murmurs, leaning closer with worry flickering in his warm eyes.

You nod and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, just a little tired. Been really stressed lately.”

He wishes you would let him help with that.

Sometimes Satoru plops down on his ten thousand dollar leather couch and imagines what it would be like to kill Suguru. It’s what he should’ve done, years ago back in that dingy bathroom with a singular lightbulb that you could never quite tell if it was going to stay lit. He could’ve charged into the other man’s body and smashed his skull into the mirror until clumps of his black hair fell on the floor and blended in with shoddy tile work. All he’d be able to hear is your pitiful hiccups, his blood would be rushing to and fro in his ears. He would’ve

Other times, Satoru imagines what it would be like to kill himself. In front of you of course, because even if he’s doing it as a sacrifice to your shrine, you’d never forget him. Trauma can do funny things to your brain, if he left you alone you might hide him under several layers of heavy fog. If you won’t love him, at least let him be remembered by the only person he thinks he’s ever cared about. You’d be happy if he stayed away, but you wouldn’t be safe with anyone else but him, so he’ll take all the screaming and throwing shit at him that’s to come.

As long as the tiffany blue box tucked away in his nightstand isn’t one of those things.

It’s why he calls his usual people and pays a good chunk of cash to throw your roommate off their shoulders like a sack of potatoes and kill her somewhere private. He has a chemistry class in fifteen minutes, and a fraternity meeting right after. Satoru’s annoyed at having to make that long trek between buildings, but it’d probably be a good way to work the energy off. What’s-her-face was really starting to piss him off, snoring as loud as a vacuum cleaner on the pillow next to him. She couldn’t even make him cum, but that’s to be expected, she’s just not you.

He didn’t hit it raw though, that’s a privilege reserved solely for his (future) baby.

When he graduates, goes to dental school, and becomes a dentist, he thinks it’d be so romantic to be the one you went to. Cleaning your teeth, praising you for how well you’ve been brushing and flossing, leaning down for an upside down spider man kind of kiss when the appointment’s over. If you’re sporting a cute little rounded belly and an angelic glow during one of those appointments, well, don’t tell anybody what he needs to imagine to fall asleep with anything resembling a genuine smile.

Shit, he hopes Choso remembers to re-stock the orange juice and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nanami’s been pissed ever since Satoru finished them without asking, now they have to share the Captain Crunch Berries. Hiroguma doesn’t mind the turn of events. All Satoru can do is wonder which one you’d like more if you stayed over at the house.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright, cutie. Just a little longer, this pussy’s so tight I'm gonna cream it in no time, ‘kay?” He whispers into your hair, his dick pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt, hunting you down even as he’s currently inside you.

He tells you these things, because of course Satoru Gojo knows you and your own body better than you do. The only time he’s ever touched it and it’s like this, violating you for his own pleasure and accidentally discovering what fuels yours along the way.

You’re crying, because he’s learned that despite your prickly personality you like soft touches and sweet words, but don’t hold it against him. He’s a horny teenage boy, it’s all trial and error. It could be a lot worse for you, he couldn’t not eaten you out first and just plowed your ass like he was gonna die tomorrow.

You feel like you might, watching your blood drip down onto the dirty bathroom tile, you’re a leaky faucet now. Rusted and having so little left to give but you keep on giving (and taking) because there’s nothing else you can do.

Satoru spills into your guts with no warning, fucking down into you like you’re nothing but a pocket pussy. You’re just so pretty, sobbing and clawing at his shoulders. He’ll wear the red scratch marks with pride, maybe ask Suguru to lick them and tell him what they taste like, share it with him to get the little remnants of your bitten nails down his throat.

He climbs off of you and picks up his phone, his fingers sticky with your juices make the device slip and slide in his grip but he manages to not drop it. You may as well be dead on the floor but Satoru’s too busy texting the video of what you just did to Suguru. He smirks and his cock twitches, imagining the look on his best friend’s face, the envy.

He never tells you if the goal was to make Suguru want to join, you never want to know.

When you come back, black and red rose petals poke out under your door.

You snap, slamming your door open and gawking at the audacity of Satoru Gojo, nestled on the covers of your bed like he was waiting for his baby to get home from a stressful day out in this big scary city.

You don’t remember the questions you ask even as you’re asking them, all you’re retaining is the blush on his face and how pretty his blue eyes are when he’s about to get everything under the sun because it might as well have a ‘Paid for by the Gojo Family’ plague on it.

You’re so fucking tired, and you put up a fight but that’s all out of you now. There are multiple ways to make something go away, like absorbing into your body so at least you’re partially in control.

“I’ll forgive you if you’re good and keep your filthy hands to yourself until I tell you otherwise, okay?”

He obeys and sits perched on the edge of the bed, watching as you hover above a glass dildo purposefully smaller than he is. You bite your lip, lubing it up until your hand is slippery and you keep losing your grip.

Satoru imagines this it at a frat party instead, and the music is pouring from the open windows as people fuck around outside and inside the house, drinking from cheap plastic cups and novelty shot glasses. He’d take your hand and lace his fingers through yours, taking you upstairs to his room.

Your rum and coke would loosen you up, and you’d grind in his bed to the beat bumping through the floor. Satoru would bury his face in your neck and beg you to let him touch you like he really wants to. You’d sigh and he’d grin, skirting his long fingers under the edge of your lace panties and fingering you right there before picking you up and throwing you flat on your back.

He’d promise he’d pull out, he thought he had more condoms in his nightstand, you wouldn’t care and would beg to stay inside no matter what. You’d have a little Toru Jr. a couple semesters later.

But that universe doesn’t exist. You’re riding a small toy to an unsatisfying orgasm and Satoru just has to sit there and watch you, leaving your clit neglected and your mouth unoccupied by his eager kisses. You spit at him that you should just pull the dildo out of you and ram it up his ass without warning, but he’s so desperate to chain you up and tie you down that he’d probably like it. You only want to do something he wouldn’t like right now, a swan song for your dignity and self respect. It’s been a few years since those things were once part of you too.

Your breath hitches and your eyes get teary, Satoru can’t help but to shuffle over to where you’re kneeling on the bed. You moan as his fingertips come into contact with your swollen clit, and laugh deliriously when he perks up like his dad just surprised with a new car to have someone else drive for him.

“So fucking typical.” You whine, bouncing on the dildo and wordlessly begging him to keep playing with your bud. “Can’t ever do something you don’t wanna do, always to be someone else’s job.”

The blinking light in the corner of your bookshelf will come in handy when Satoru’s fast asleep in your bed and you’re sending a video of your own to Suguru.

You’ll both wake up to someone furiously pounding on your door, the world will spin round and round only to end up at the same place.

A frown flickers across his face at the pure death in your tone. He wants to know your favorite colors and what you love to eat and what makes every stressor in life fade away, but all he knows is what you look like when you cry yourself to smithereens while you cum.

“You’re the best at everything, honey.” He softly chuckles, water laps at his hairline, he’s almost drowning.

That isn’t quite true clearly, you’re not the best at stopping yourself from being assaulted, like that’s something you be and therapy’s something you can win.

“Thank you, Toru. so are you.”

That is true, for better or for worse as the saying goes.

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blue-jisungs · 2 years ago

Note

okay imagine like with svt (either ot13 or minghao jihoon and seungkwan pls) you’re studying for some test in eng / a language other than korean and you go to them with like the tiniest handwriting, tons of notes, all on one page all proud and theyre just like “…now wtf does this say bro” love u axie (if i can call u that) take a rest and i love u sooo so much! u can dm me if my req is a little confusing <33

speaking your native language in their presence ♡

a/n. the way i RAN to write this!! it took a moment ngl but phew, i’m done!! thank you for requesting, hopefully you like it roxie!!! and ofc you can call me axie, it makes my heart melt ngl <3

also i had a race with time to finish it before you go on a hiatus i was STRESSING LMAO but i made it 😌

warnings. cursing >:T

oh and for anyone interested i also have enha && skz && bts versions of this!!

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

mans so used to talking w you in korean that he kind of??? forgot??

so once you were talking with your mom over the phone and his mouth went ajar

like that man was ready to call the exorcist

and then it clicked and he was like oh ☺️

after the shock went away he swore he fell in love over n over again

loves hearing you talk in your native tongue :(

he’s so entertained by it too, like i swear he’s like a kid (affectionate)

you were laying in seungcheol’s arms, head nuzzled into his neck. his big arms held you tightly and he softly drew shapes onto your skin.

“and… seventeen?” his question made you smile. you translated how the number sounds in your native language.

and cheol started giggling.

“sev…enteen… it’s so.. rustly” he chuckled, attempting to say it “oh! what about our songs?”

“well… hot would be hot” you barely finished and seungcheol was giggling like a teenager. it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but start laughing too. but then he attempted to say it and failed horribly, causing a full on hysteric laughter from both of you.

maybe it was the late hour or his failed attempts. whatever it was, it felt so heartwarming.

he will learn with your help a couple of basic phrases!!

due to his busy schedule he can’t study on his own but once he has some free time he’s doing those duolingo lessons LIKE A FREAK

oh and also

if he’s pouting bc he’s in a bad mood, all it takes is a kiss and a nickname thrown at him in your native language ^_^

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

he’s like a cat – curious but won’t let it show

shushes everyone in the room if you’re talking to your friends or parents in your native language through the phone :”)

obviously so they hear you better duh (not because he wants to listen, duh)

will learn some phrases on his own so you two can communicate (and cheat) while you’re playing games w his friends hehe

he absolutely fell in love with the kitchen of your home country like 😭😭😭

and and he absolutely adores the names of the dishes, esp when you pronounce them so effortlessly

it unlocked something in him….. sure he had a soft spot for you but now oh boy

“hannie…” you whined, tugging his sleeve.

you had a small fight, well… more of a disagreement: he wanted some ramyeon and you were craving (dish name). obviously he folded in half and knew he’s done for the second the dish name rolled off your tongue so satisfyingly.

“please? we didn’t have it in a while! we can order (dish name no2) too? pleasepleasepleaseee” you pouted. jeonghan sighed dramatically, raising his eyebrows.

“okay. but say it one more time” he grunted, a smile creeping on his face.

“you’re so weird” you mumbled amusingly in your native language and he frowned

“hey, i understood that!” jeonghan scoffed, causing you to chuckle.

he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes whenever you speak your native language, just saying <\\3

when he’s feeling extremely soft, usually when you’re about to go to sleep cuddled n all, he’ll ask you to just whisper some random stories

it lulls him to sleep so fast

please also caress his hair he’ll melt on spot 🥹

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

he knows the struggles of feeling away from home so the second you start feeling homesick he’s there to make you feel better:”)

shua loves hearing you mutter some random words, for example when you’re counting or something

will also ask for music recommendations and he will learn some of the songs so he can sing them while playing the guitar

also he’s INVESTED

like,, shua will watch you scribble down in your mother tongue mesmerised

it’s not that fun, however, when you’re in a rush and you left him a note with a grocery list scribbled down

… and a couple of things in your native language…. messily written that even the translator doesn’t understand it…

“uhhh… y/n, darling?” joshua’s voice rung in your ears as you picked up the incoming face time call. you smiled upon seeing his cute but puzzled face.

“yes, baby? also good morning to you too” you hummed, fixing your earphones. his face lit up upon seeing you

“oh woah, you look good today. but i’m in a bit of a pickle…” he hesitated, the camera turning around. you noticed the note you left behind and your eyes widened upon realising that you wrote some of the items in (language name).

“oh” you giggled.

“oh indeed” he shook his head with a loving smile “and even the translator doesn’t–“

“it’s butter, flour and cucumbers” you explained and joshua let out a dramatic, relieved sigh

he notes down the words after such incidents so he doesn’t have to call you eveytime

and it’s safe to say that he’s build a quite big vocabulary so far

and he’s always so proud like

“hey y/n i bought the (cucumbers in your language) you wanted!” with the widest grin ever

┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]

my mans woke up one day and decided to learn your language

bought books, textbooks, audiobooks, duolingo plus (or premium, however it’s called) and casually managed to learn A LOT

he just loves the way it sounds and aspires to talk so fluently like you

ofc he knows he still has a lot to learn but don’t underestimate him

and the main reason when he’s gonna use it it’s just… bothering you ^_^

“–and then he gave me flowers! yeah! he’s the sweetest!” you were gossiping with your bestie over the phone, peeking at jun calmly reading a book “ugh, i know! i know, i know, i know, shut up!”

jun just smirked, getting ready to say something.

“trust me, i’d drop on my knee right here right now if i weren’t such a chicken” you giggled and blush creeped on your cheeks when you met your boyfriend’s curious gaze

“i’d prefer to do it, to be honest, but you’re such a cutie” jun said calmly in (language name) and casually returned to his book. your mouth fell ajar as your bestie started squealing over the fact that he spoke (language name)… apparently.

jun just winked and you cleared your throat, hanging up quickly.

“what was that?!” you laughed and he just shook his head with a mischievous smile.

he’s such a gremlin >:(

so yeah, expect him to start spilling tea in your native language as an excuse to 1) spend more time w you 2) practice his skills

but as i said he’s??? like?? almost fluent??? his accent is so so adorable too <|\3

he’s so smug abt it as well

like if you ask him, he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know a thing in (language name)

but if he’s abt to bully you (affectionately) he’ll come up with the most creative nicknames known to a humankind

also, if you have siblings… he WILL gossip w them in your mother tongue too 😐

┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]

oh boy.

he’s so so curious to hear you say even one (1) thing in your language

but totally misses it when you actually say some words throughout the day

obviously knows one word: tiger (wow shocking?!!!)

and uses it sm 😭 he has your contact name written as my tiger but my is in korean and tiger in your native language 🥹

he calls you like that often, it’s like a new nickname for you

he may be not so invested into actually learning it but your culture tho!!! esp dancing n music… sigh <\\3

you stepped into your apartment, the weight of this tiring day on your shoulders. as you lazily took off your shoes and put the bag with groceries into the ground you realised something.

the song playing in the background was strangely similar. suddenly it clicked. it was a popular song by an artist from your country! just when you realised, the sound of shoes squeaking against the wooden floor stopped.

“are you dancing to… (song title)?” you breathed out as your boyfriend popped out from behind the corner.

“yeah! i love the vibe of the song!” he grinned and gave you a welcome kiss. after pulling away you could see the gears were turning in his head “could you translate the lyrics?”

as you made your way to the practice room, you hummed the song underneath your breath. and in this moment soonyoung’s heart skipped a beat.

since that moment it’s like a routine that you sing/hum him to sleep some songs in your native language

or just whisper some stories

he’s out like a baby fr

ALSO

a big enjoyer of the soap operas

he’ll binge them with you or alone and be actually invested in the drama

that’s how he also learned curse words ☺️☺️

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

oh my precious nonu :((

he adores it sm when you speak your native language

when you’re shy abt it he just has to use all of his willpower to prevent himself from squealing like a teenage girl

will ask you to teach him and it’s just so so soft *screams*

you’ll be laying in bed, in his arms as you read through the textbook and explain the grammar of the sentence given

and he’ll repeat it in tiny 🥹

it’s so so wholesome

but.

you let out a sigh, the grasp on your mouse tightening. wonwoo noticed and let out a chuckle.

“what’s up?” he asked, peeking at your screen.

“the fucking skeleton won’t leave me alone” you grunted in your mother tongue, earning a gasp from him. suddenly the arrow that the minecraft skeleton shot hit you and you fell down from the tree at top of which were you hiding “fuck!”

“baby!” he laughed hysterically, his head thrown back. your eyes widened, realising the curse words

“sorry! why is this stupid block game making me emotional?! ignore me” you scoffed and he just shook his head, smiling proudly at the new knowledge he obtained.

he finds it so endearing when you swear in your native language 😭😭😭

and it’s such a bad habit, especially when you play games together, that he started doing it too???

wonwoo laughs that you’re a bad influence but secretly he loves the way the curses roll of tongue 😭😭

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

you could sneeze and you’re literally inspiring him to write 82837492 songs

so when he heard you talk in (language name) he was just like in another dimension

he’s smiling like an idiot fr his friends thought something was wrong but it was just you <3

uh however he kind of… never saw your handwriting in (language name)

and once you were studying for an important exam and mans had a heart attack

“hey y/nnie have you seen my…?” his voice died out in his throat upon seeing you and your notes. they were all scribbled in a tiny handwriting in some… letters he didn’t fully recognise. you had like five A4 pages of such notes.

jihoon blinked repeatedly, trying to think if he wasn’t in the sun for too long today – his eyes must be playing a trick on him.

“look! im so happy with the outcome, it looks so cute!” you grinned and turned around to see him almost hyperventilating “hoonie?”

“what–“ he frowned, pointing with his finger at one of the pages. what is going on?

“it’s in (language name), dumbass” you scoffed, everything suddenly making sense to him “it helps me understand stuff better”

“oh” he grunted, shifting his gaze to the page with little drawings “what does it say?”

“oh it’s the–“ you started explaining, throwing in some words in your mother tongue subconsciously. he just smiled and listened attentively.

lmao

regarding that, he enjoys just listening to you as you study and whisper some of the words/sentences in your mother tongue!

it really calms him down and usually puts to sleep to <\\\3

oh oh! and when you caress his hair while doing so… ah, he’s so whipped

he has tons of songs that are unreleased… and yes, you guessed correctly, with your consent he used some of your voice memos n all in the background

the songs are so cute :( he’s really proud of them too!! and it’s so sweet that it’s just… for the both of you <3

please leave in his studio some “i love you!” or “have a good day” sticky notes, preferably in (language name) or with translations?! he’ll melt :[

also another one that reaaaally likes the curse words >:T

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

from the moment he met you he was always curious about your culture n native language but never pushed you to speak it n all

and gradually while dating him you started using it more and he started paying more attention

like he didn’t notice before that the funny sound you do while dropping something is actually cursing! 😀

what’s surprising, he understands a lot – maybe it’s the context or just some magical powers

but sometimes you can communicate like you say something in (language name) and he answers in korean bc he understood

and he’s so so in love with your accent and the way your face lights up when you speak it your mother of tongue

but for the love of god please – somehow – stop speaking it in your sleep, he’s gonna have a heart attack one day 🥰🥰

dokyeom stirred in his sleep, slowly waking up. he wasn’t sure why but suddenly he heard something.

it was definitely something. he sat straightly, narrowing his brows confused. what is that sound? is that a burglar? or…?

he looked over at you. no, you were sleeping peacefully. seokmin looked around the dark room, his heart speeding up. was this a nightmare? or was he just going insane?

then again. no, it must be someone saying something. something that he can’t understand.

then it clicked and he looked at you. your mouth was moving slightly, incoherent (language name) words being spoken.

he scoffed and went back to sleep, pulling you closer.

it took him so much time to get used to that but anyways 🏃‍♀️💨

and he’ll definitely make fun of you for that too (as if he didn’t have a whole ass jumpscare)

he absolutely adores ballads in (language name), it’s like his new obsession

and he tries to sing them, with the cutest accent ever :(

will occasionally twist some words but it’s okay, he’s enjoying himself 🫶

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

this dork

he always acknowledged your native language n all but unlike dk he asks u to speak it 24/7

like, you don’t get it: he’s obsessed.

you could insult him in his face in (language name) and he’ll look at you with hearts in his eyes

he wants to learn it, he really does, but it’s just so frustrating when he fails :(

mingyu was sitting at the dinner table, his food long forgotten while he was biting at the end of the pencil. glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose, brows furrowed.

“gyu? you’re still here?” your voice snapped him back to reality, eyes widening. you rubbed your eyes.

“yeah i just don’t get it…” he whined, shoulders slumping “i understand the words but they don’t make a logical sentence in my head”

“baby…” you chuckled softly and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder.

he grabbed his food, cold now, and slowly chewed on it as you explained everything.

“because look. this word, what does it mean?” you asked, noticing that he’s eating so you just scoffed and continued “girl, right? but this ending here added means girl’s. and this? old. but those letters here? they make it an adjective, so…?”

“older?” he asked, puppy eyes glaring at you with adoration. you nodded with encouragement and he tried again “so… the girl’s older brother had a dog?”

“yeah! good job baby! now let’s go to sleep, hm? i’m tired” you giggled and pecked his cheek. he nodded proudly.

kisses really motivate him btw >:)

he watches those yt videos of people teaching and giving tips but he loves when you give him private tutoring lessons 🫶

will often cook you some regional dishes in return

generally, he enjoys exploring your national cuisine ^_^

also would love to go to (country name) w you and take some pics…

… or propose there

so just go there w him already! 🙄

┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]

shut up i want him

you’re each other’s private tour guides 😭

museum dates are such a must, and you’re just talking abt something that impacted a certain artwork (like cultural event in history or something) and he just listens genuinely interested!! and vice versa

loves when you read out loud poetry in your native language :(

started taking lessons?? like one day you woke up and he was just on a zoom call saying something like “my name is minghao” with the cutest smile ever

and you’re like?????

he’s such a fast learner 🥹 hao believes it’s because he truly wants to learn in order to communicate with you 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

but that didn’t prepare you for what was about to come next…

don’t let him near your parents. he WILL gossip with them abt you.

“does she swear a lot?” your mom’s voice reached your ears as you walked into the your apartment, grocery bags in your hands. your parents were visiting you and minghao but…

“like a sailor! no, i’m joking. of course she doesn’t. she does snore a lot, though” your boyfriend giggled and you let out a dramatic gasp.

“hao!” you whined and they both looked at you, not really caring that you’re here now.

“i guess she has that after her father” your mom chuckled and minghao noticed her tea is almost finished, so he poured some more in “oh, you’re such a gentleman”

“it would be a crime if i wasn’t in a presence of such an beautiful lady” he hummed and sent you a playful look. you just rolled your eyes and started unpacking the groceries.

“gentleman my ass” you grunted quietly.

“y/n!” your mom frowned and suddenly you heard someone standing up. in no time minghao hugged you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck

“i just told your mom you don’t swear, honey” he murmured in korean

“well, ass is not a swear word” you pouted. minghao chuckled and helped you unpack the bag.

“you’re right, it’s a part of human body but i am surely more than that” your boyfriend teased and you just nudged his arm, rolling your eyes once again.

i feel like it might take a while but he’ll actually manage to be fluent?

so when you sadly forget a bit of (language name) due to mostly using korean and make a mistake, it’s almost like that mingyu-joshua moment

and hao is the one correcting you 😭

and your just like?? excuse me?? it was just a mispronunciation🙄☝️

but he doesn’t let it go and teases you >:(

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

he straight up asked you one day to teach him some (language name) bc he thought it sounded cute <|3

and you’re like 🥹 yeah 🥹

but uh, he’s not a very patient student and gives up quickly 😭😭

but it’s okay!! he tried n also has a busy schedule so it’s understandable

nevertheless, he still adores when you speak your mother tongue

esp when you call him nicknames sigh

however our lovely boo kind of forgot how the written letters vary from spoken words

“what are you doing?” seugkwan hummed intrigued upon seeing you scribble something on paper. you looked up and met his soft gaze.

“oh, this? this is a crossword! korean ones are still too difficult for me so my friend sent me a couple of those in (language name)” you explained and tapped the paper with the tip of your pencil. he frowned, looking at the letters in brackets

“what the fuck” kwan grunted confused. not only he didn’t recognise some of the letters but it was also the fact that they were going vertically. you scoffed and let out a sudden gasp, filling in a new word. seungkwan watched you amused, how swiftly you wrote down the letters on paper “what is it?”

“it’s umm, a historical reference. a surname of one guy, you know” you hummed. seungkwan sat down next to you and watched you fill the crossword, occasionally translating the questions and words you put in while you explained what they meant and why were they the answer.

in no time this turned into a couple activity: sometimes like this, sometimes he did a korean one and you watched, sometimes you solved them at the same time - him in korean, you in your mother tongue

he learned a lot of words thanks to this

and he has the cutest accent ever like i swear 🥹

seungkwan loves watching soap operas too like he lives for the drama

often repeats (shouts) what the characters are shouting too LMAO

so you’re chilling and suddenly you hear “get out of my house! now!” with his accent

also watches movies n animations in (language name) to learn some new words

he knows all the disney songs in (language) and majority of them he knows by a heart <\3

so you just sometimes blast let it go or under the sea in (language name) and sing along >_<

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

this menace

he’s so chill about it

secretly loves when you accidentally sneak some words in your language it’s just so adorable

or when you forget a word and try to describe it… n then you give up and say it in (language name) just to see him smile <\\\\3

he decided that he’ll learn some random words??? like for example he just likes how umbrella sounds in (language name) so he just?? learned how to spell and say it

and uses it in random moments too like he’s so goofy <\3

you were casually chatting with his members, a raging discussion about whether mint chocolate ice cream is such a controversial topic in your country as well.

“i wouldn’t say so? people don’t… really care? a lot of people i know like it, actually! a bigger dispute would rather be some casual stuff like, do you sleep in socks or not… or which goes first: cereal or milk” you explained, looking at vernon. you could almost hear gears turning in his head, knowing what’s about to come

“toothpick” he said in (language name) suddenly, causing everyone to look at him confused. you started laughing at how serious he was when he said it; he started laughing too, it was simply contagious.

his friends looked at you completely flabbergasted, not sure what happened.

“i think they officially lost it” minghao mumbled, a smile creeping on his lips as you and vernon laughed like maniacs.

he always finds the most unfunny memes funny, like it could be even a meme from 2015 and he’d laugh

sends them to you too

and surprisingly?? he’s on track with the newest memes in your country like??

will know the most basic phrases too but sometimes mixes them

do you hand him a piece of orange bc he asked you to and then he goes “goodbye”

and you’re like?? 😭

but he tried okay?!

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

chan is super hyped about hearing you talk in (language name), it just amazes him how easily you switch between languages

but he never asked u to speak to him bc he didn’t want to feel you pressured or something

but whenever at home you just forget a word he loves when you say it in (language name) even if he doesn’t understand shit

or when you’re just so excited and into a convo and you don’t notice that you sneaked a few foreign words :”)

he always repeats them after you quietly ^_^

one day though, he’s just feeling soft and tired and his brain shut off

“y/n… can you say something in (language name)?” chan whispered suddenly, forcing his eyes to open and peek at you. you hummed, pushing some stray strands of hair that fell onto his forehead. laying on your sides but facing each other, chan noticed how your cheeks flushed pink.

“well… you’re not going to understand me anyways but… i love you. so, so much. i’m so grateful to have you in my life, you make me feel at ease. i can’t imagine my life without you…” you hummed and he noticed how your voice broke when you started the next sentence “and it hurts me to see when you put too much pressure on yourself, baby. you think you’re not good enough but to me, your members and your fans… and literally everyone else, you are. you so are, channie…”

he panicked once you teared up, fully awake. chan pulled you closer, calming you down

“i’m sorry” he mumbled, heart breaking at the sound of your sobs. you just scoffed, shaking your head

“don’t apologise, i just love you so much” you mumbled into his shirt and he swore he was about to melt.

i feel like deep down he knew what you meant <\3

anyways,,

if he hears about one (1) event even slightly connected with (country name) he’ll drag you there so you can feel at home for a moment (as if he’s not your home) and also translate some stuff for him

absolutely loves when you call him nicknames in your mother tongue, like

you could call him the goofiest and cheesiest nickname and he’s squealing like a teenage girl

but then he calls you the same or finds some new nicknames on the internet

sometimes to make you laugh or confuse he’ll put a sentence or a question to google translate and it’ll just… translate it so bad

“what do you mean ‘where’s the broccoli dog??’” you frown and he just laughs his ass off bc 1) it mistranslated OR 2) he purposely put some silly stuff to make you puzzled

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

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14dayswithyou · 1 year ago

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💖 Slight 14DWY + Blog Changes! 💖

(16/12/23)

Leon will now move away from Corland Bay when he’s 10 years old. Originally, I never really put that much thought into it because it won't be explicitly mentioned in the game, but I figured I might as well make it more accurate now ^^;

Teo is now 26 (instead of 27). Again, zero thought went into this aside from wanting a wider range of ages for the cast — but now I want him to be closer to Jae and Violet’s age — especially considering they were all childhood friends and Violet was in the grade below them.

Elanor is now 30 and Kiara is 29. In the 2017 version, Elanor was originally the eldest sister, but it just didn't feel right to change it in the 2020 version. Day 3 will still be lore accurate, but everything on this blog will need to be retconned.

14DWY Purple (unofficial) will now be changing from #A14BF4 to #9D64FD.

Not a change, but adding more clarification: Angel will still attend university (and Jae and Teo will still be their university friend), but whether or not they enrolled will remain ambiguous! Day 1/2 kinda insinuates that they studied something ("Teo attended some of their classes"), but I wanted it to imply that they could've attended orientation and/or took "mock classes" after high school to see what it's like as well. I may change a few lines in the demo (in the future) to reflect that.

Egg

I'd like to (hopefully) try to remind everyone that whenever I write about Angel on this blog, they are gender neutral. Because if my ass had a dollar for every time someone assumed they were female because of the cutesy/pink themes or how "soft" I made the MC, I'd have enough money to fund voice actors, translators, custom soundtrack, and pay the $100 Steam fee /hj

Changed the crackpot theory tag into an actual tag!! About time sdghjdg

(07/01/24)

Also not a change, but to solidify Haruko's appearance + Ren's likeness a bit more... Haruko is supposed to be an anime character with pink/blue hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He's a modern day "sorcerer" (a reference to JJK, not a literal fantasy wizard lmao) from an anime called "Attack on Giants" (another reference to "Attack on Titan"); and is very kind, ditzy, and empathetic. All Ren has copied is his hairstyle, vibe, and demeanour. Ren isn't outright cosplaying Haruko, and it'd take an avid anime enjoyer to notice that Ren is attempting to mimic Haruko.

I'll make a poll one day, but I might change Ren's left sleeve tattoo to the spoiler-free placeholder I used in this artwork. A lot of people seem to prefer it, but I'll wait until the poll to make any final decisions.

I might also make another poll to see if perhaps a new BGM theme would better suit the demo. Because in my mind, the "summer/beach location" = acoustic guitar (rather than piano) — and for some reason I get lo-fi vibes from 14DWY??

I don't think anyone has picked up on this subtle shift yet, but Ren will mainly use "he/him" over "he/they" now (since Haruko is a he/him enjoyer 👍). [REDACTED], however, will still greatly prefer "they/he", and will continue to use them interchangeably.

21/02/24 — or search through Obsidian. (Future Sai here.... I have no clue what this means???? What??? T_T)

I'm gonna cut down on the Teo and Ren bullying on this blog (and in general). I don't find it fun anymore, and it genuinely upsets me when people put down certain characters to make others look better (i.e. "Ren has no ass which makes Leon superior >:)" Just say you like Leon... I beg T_T). It also makes me doubt whether Ren is genuinely a good character or not, and it's gross seeing y'all tear down people who genuinely enjoy Teo. Be kind.

(11/01/24)

Eventually, I'd like to turn this meme into an event in the 14DWY Discord to help create an actual landlord for Day 3. The current landlord has always been a meme-y placeholder (I thought the idea would be funny), but looking at how the game is currently, I want 14DWY to be more "serious". The current landlord will eventually be turned into an easter egg!!

Whether or not Jae had bottom surgery will now remain ambiguous. Everyone is now free to headcanon whatever they'd like, so long as it's not offensive or too OOC.

From now on, I'll also try my best to remind everyone that Jae is gay and Kiara is lesbian. I tried not to bring it up frequently because I was afraid it'd come across like "being gay" was their only defining personality trait, but I'm tired of people sending in asks that don't apply to these characters ^^;

I might move all of the curiouscat questions to this blog and archive the account. It's becoming too much of a hassle for me to manage 3+ social media accounts sgkshjj

#Sharing this now because why not 😼#I refuse to let it sit in my drafts any longer lmaoooo #I'll cut out the embarrassing logs though <3 No one needs to see me ramble about how the sprites STILL don't feel consistent enough #for the 14235th time gjsdjsdhgs #🖤 — shut up sai.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#to be tagged later

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ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

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But daddy, I love him

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Demon!Reader

Word count : 3.6k

Warnings : angst (if you squint), foul language.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean was bored. No, he was beyond bored. There were no cases and Sam was, well, being Sam. He had his nose buried in some book and he refused to acknowledge Dean's situation. He kept throwing paper balls at Sam just to annoy him and he finally succeeded when Sam slammed his book shut and glared at his brother.

"What the hell is your problem.?" He snapped.

"Ah so nice of you to notice." Dean started sarcastically, "in case it wasn't obvious. I'm bored."

"If you're bored read some lore books." Sam suggested with a shrug.

"I want to kill my boredom not die myself." Dean rolled his eyes. Sam made a bitch face before answering,

"Go out to a bar or something." He got up from his chair and left the library. Dean perked up,

"Good idea Sammy. I'm heading out." He announced leaving the bunker.

He arrived at the nearest bar, settling on one of the barstools he ordered himself a drink. His eyes search the space, trying to find something or someone interesting, his eyes dropped a figure a few seats to his left. She looked familiar. He looked at her for a few seconds before it clicked, he'd hooked up with her years back.

Now normally he wouldn't be able to recognise anyone he hooked up with several years back, but he remembered her because she looked exactly the same. It had been years and she didn't change even a bit. And the fact that he thought about her quite often. More than he'd like to admit.

He couldn't help but think if she remembered him. He wouldn't know if he didn't ask. Besides he didn't have anything better to do so he approached her.

"Hey." Dean said sitting down beside her.

"Hi." She smiled looking at him. It was hard to decipher if she remembered him or was just being friendly. "I know you." She added making his release a breath.

"So you do remember." He smirked at her.

"Do you really think you're forgettable, Dean?" She questioned with a sly smile on her face. He laughed at her comment, shaking his head.

"I must say, you haven't aged a day since I've last seen you." Dean spoke gulping down his drink. "And it's been like what? Nine years?"

The two had met when Sam had left for Stanford and John had gone God knows where, and Dean was free to do whatever. He was hunting a werewolf. After he killed the creature, he found a bar and ended up her in bed. They spent three weeks together before John called Dean back.

"Nine years." She nodded. "But you haven't aged yourself." She replied glacing at him.

"No really, you're just exactly how I remember you." He said looking at her in amazement.

"Yeah? Above you or beneath you?" She whispered leaning closer to him. He wasn't expecting her to be this straight with him so it caught him a bit off guard.

Dean quickly collected himself and answered with a smirk. "Both."

"Good to know I'm not the only one who still thinks about it." She added and he nodded.

The two had spent weeks together but it wasn't just hooking up. Dean took her out on dates and she cooked for him sometimes. They cuddled, played games, talked about anything and everything, music, movies, dreams. Everything except their personal lives. And they had sex. It was as if they were together but without any labels, and when Dean left there were no hard feelings.

"So what brings you to Kansas?" Dean questioned, looking at her with curiosity.

"Ah you know me, i go where the wind takes me." She replied with a shrug.

"So you mean you're still wandering around?"

She nodded her head before speaking.

"And you're not?" She laughed.

"Nah I've got a place now. With my brother." Dean replied vaguely, not wanting to drag her into the mess called 'hunting life'.

"Cool." She bit her lip, she completely turned her body towards him. "Do you wanna get out of here? My motel is right infront of this place." She added seductively, her hand placed on his chest.

"With pleasure, sweetheart." Dean said helping her stand, he threw a few bills on the counter which were more than enough to cover both their drinks, he pulled her out of the bar.

The moment she entered the room her back was slammed against the door and his lips were attacking hers. She moaned in his mouth, his hands touching everywhere he could. He picked her up and dropped her on the bed. Clothes were ripped and thrown haphazardly. Their kiss was hungry and needy. For the next few hours the only sound that could be heard was of the slapping of his skin against hers, her moans and his groans and the filthy words he spoke that she loved so much.

"Fuck, I thought you were good back then but now you're just..." she trailed off panting, laying on top of him.

"You're one to say." Dean replied, his own breathing ragged. He dragged his fingers on her bare bare soothingly. "Missed this." He spoke after a minutes of silence. "Missed you."

"I did too." She said leaning up to peck his lips. "This is cozy." She added snuggling up to him. He wrapped his arms around her firmly. She laid her head on his chest when she noticed his tattoo. "Hey. I like your tattoo, what does it mean?" She said tracing it with her finger. He froze for a second.

"I don't know actually, I uh.. I saw it at the tattoo shop, and I just liked it." He lied through his teeth. She nodded laying her head back down.

The next morning, Dean woke up by the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned before answering his phone. It was Sam, asking where he was and that he needs to be back. Y/n felt Dean move beneath her and woke up.

"I have to go." He said sitting up, she pouted clutching the sheets to her chest as she watched him put his clothes back on.

"So soon?" Dean chuckled lightly before kissing her.

"We could do this again, for as long as you're here in Kansas." Dean said tying his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. She moved closer so she could hug him from behind.

"De." She said resting her head on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at her. She was quiet for a moment, she seemed lost in thought.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I meant it when I said I missed you." She mumbled against his shoulder. He tilted his head to look at her better. He gave her a confused look not getting where she was going with this. She unwrapped her arms from his torso and shifted to his side, and straddled his waist. He leaned back a bit so she could sit comfortably. He gripped her hips, holding her gaze. "Dean, those three weeks were the best days of my life. I never thought I'd ever meet you again. In my entire life no one has ever made me feel the way you do, can we.. could we try-" Her heart dropped the moment his grip loosened and he avoided eye contact. She whispered a quiet "oh" and quickly got off his lap.

"Y/n-"

"I get it, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." She was embarrassed, she really thought he felt the same.

"You didn't. It's just... it's complicated." Dean said standing up from where he sat on the bed.

"Yeah, no.. I get it." She nodded not meeting his gaze. Before either of them could say anything else, Dean's phone rang again. He sighed before answering.

"Yes Sam, I'm on my way. Yeah." He spoke into the phone before hanging up. He gave her one last glance before walking out of the door.

It had been three days since Dean walked out of her motel room and she felt pretty shitty. She basically asked him out and he outright rejected her. She sat at the small table, nursing a glass of scotch when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door expecting anyone but Dean, yet here he was.

"Not gonna invite me in, sweetheart?" He asked leaning against the doorframe.

"Find someone else to wet your dick." She rolled her eyes, closing the door but stopped it with his foot.

"C'mon don't be like that. I just want to talk." He said softly, prompting her to open the door wider. She walked back and he entered inside. "Look, I know I was a dick last time you saw me, but like I said it's complicated." She didn't speak or even acknowledge his words. "I would love nothing more than to be with you but it'd be hard." She raised her brow at him and he rubbed his face. "I'm gone, alot. I wouldn't be here everytime you need me. And you, you never stay at one place for a long time. I'm willingly to do this if you're okay with it."

"You really think I wouldn't stay, if you'd ask?" She said walking towards him. "Dean, the last time I felt something, felt alive was nine years ago. I was callous before and after you." She said honestly and her words couldn't have been anymore true. She was a demon. She hadn't felt, feelings for as long as she can remember. But with Dean, she felt everything there is.

"Let's do this." Dean leaned down kissing her softly. For the past three days all he did was think. He still wasn't sure what prompted him to give in to her, but it's time he started living for himself a bit.

Months passed, Y/n had gotten herself an apartment in Kansas, her and Dean had been going strong. They went out for drives, Dean stayed over sometimes, and had phenomenal sex whenver they could. Y/n had yet to visit his "place" since his brother doesn't know about them and she was fine with it. Part of her was relieved Dean couldn't stay longer. She didn't have to keep her "human charade" up.

Unbeknownst to them, both of them were hiding a significant secret from each other. But that was until,

"Princess, you can't go in there, his majesty is in an important meeting-" A measely demon tried to stop her from entering the chamber Crowley has his 'throne' in.

"Shut up before I disintegrate you into nothing." She sneered, her eyes turned completely black. She knew she wouldn't do but that demon didn't know that nor did he need to know. She pushed open the door, her father sitting on his so called throne while two men stood in front of him, their backs to her. She was too angry to recognise the silhouette of the body in front of her. "How many times do I have to tell you not-"

"Darlin' I'm a bit occupied at the moment." The man with the Scottish accent interrupted her. The two men turned around and her eyes widened.

"Dean, What're you doing here?" She questioned. His face seemed like he'd seen a ghost. He was shocked and confused. The other man, she assumed his brother, Sam raised his brows in confusion as well.

"Squirrel, you know my daughter?" Crowley questioned standing up.

"Your daughter?" Dean's jaw clenched as he looked back and forth between the shorter man and his daughter. She was flabbergasted and didn't know if she could get out of this situation. When she saw some demons following her, she confronted them, they revealed her father had sent them to keep an eye on her. The only reason she was here was to tell him to back off.

"You're on nickname basis with the King of Hell?" She joked looking at Dean. He glared at her and her grin dropped.

"What exactly is happening here?" Sam questioned feeling completely out of loop.

"That is exactly what I would like to know!" Crowley demanded looking at Dean and Y/n.

"What is happening is here, I just found out I've been sleeping with the Princess of Hell." Dean gritted his teeth. "You put her up to this, didn't you?" He glared at Crowley.

"She's my daughter, not some hooker. And why would I even do that? We're besties, aren't we?" He said as if they had been childhod buddies. "Wait a minute, you're sleeping with Dean Winchester?" Crowley looked at his daughter, disappointed. "He's a goddamn hunter."

"You say as if it's a bad thing." She mumbled "I didn't know he's a hunter." She shrugged. "I didn't even know his last name until now."

"You've seen him naked, you didn't see his anti possession tattoo?" Sam asked, clearing getting a kick out this situation. Dean glared at his brother.

"Well I asked him about it he said he didn't know what it was, the last time I choked a guy half to death because of that tattoo and turned out it was some nerd book thing, Supernatural or whatever." She countered throwing her hands in the air. Sam shook his head at the mention of the Supernatural books.

"How could you hide this from me?" Dean questioned the look of betrayal all over his face.

"Yeah sure, I could've just walked up to you and said, hey Dean I'm a demon." She rolled her eyes. "You didn't tell me you were a hunter either. Had I told you the truth you would've killed me."

"This is different." Dean replied.

"Alright Romeo Juliet. Whatever it is, this is done here. Y/n, I forbid you to see him." Crowley intervened.

"But Daddy I love him." She replied and the three men present in the room froze.

"I need a drink." Crowley said.

Dean looked at her wide eyed, still processing her words. A demon is in love with him, before knowing her real identity, Dean himself felt something for her but right now he wasn't so sure. Y/n bit her lip, looking at the green eyed hunter.

"We should talk." She said walking over to him. "Privately." She added loudly looking at her father. Crowley rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers, him and Sam disappearing from the room. Dean looked surprised Crowley didn't throw a fit when told to do something. "He loves me." She said as if she had read his mind.

Dean was silent for a moment and the everything came crashing into him at full speed, his supposed girlfriend is a demon, not just some demon but she's the daughter of the King of Hell. He's been sleeping with the Princess of Hell and apparently she's in love with him.

"What the fuck!" Dean exclaimed, extremely pissed.

"Dean, let me explain. I promise I won't lie about anything."

"You're a demon, demons lie all the time, you've been lying to me this whole time." He snapped at her.

"I didn't lie about anything, I just hid one fact. Besides you're the one who approached me at the bar, both times." She felt herself getting defensive. "I'm not like other demons you've met. I'm not evil. Hell I didn't even ask for this." She felt herself tear up.

"I don't even know who you are!" Dean exclaimed. "Who's body are you even wearing."

"It's mine." She replied.

"That's not possible, if you're Crowley's daughter you're atleast over two hundred years old how'd your body even..." he trailed off. "What do you mean you didn't even ask for this?"

"I'm the reason he's what he is." She started. "If you know him closely you'd know his relationship with his mother." Dean nodded urging her to continue, "so when I was born he swore he'd be the parent he never got. He gave me everything he could, loved me too much." Her voice cracked, "When I was fifteen, I was diagnosed with a terminal disease, and we're talking centuries back, I was gonna die. So my father, Fergus made a deal. My life for his soul. Ten year later they took him. He became a demon, kept an eye one me. He was happy that I was alive, When I was twenty seven I got into a fatal accident, I died. And he couldn't bear that so he transformed me with magic or shit I don’t know. He made me a demon. That way I would be with him forever."

Dean hadn't taken Crowley to be a man capable of love, he always thought of him as an evil son of a bitch who was the King of Hell and was there to cause trouble for him and his brother.

"He became the King of Hell because of me, just to give me everything I could ever need, he didn't realise by doing he kept me alive, but over the it made unhappy and lonely. I could never find love, I could never feel a thing. But nine years ago I met you, and I felt something, I don't how or why but I did, then you left." She whispered staring at him. "And then we met again, I thought I could finally get what I wanted, but I was naive to think it would work. I'm sorry Dean I never meant to hurt you, I just thought you're just a guy that I'll outlive and you'd never find the truth."

"This is a lot to take in." Dean said shaking his head. "I'm sorry about what happened to you." She nodded her head not knowing what else to say. "Is it true? What you said?" He asked cautiously.

"About loving you? Yes. I mean I don't know what love feels like, it's been a long time, but you do make me feel like I did when I was human. So yeah I do love you Dean. And I know you might not want anything to do with me after all this. But I'd do anything for you." She replied honestly. She'd been lonely for the past centuries, she's willing to do anything to feel something again.

"I did...uh" he cleared his throat before speaking, "I did feel something for you before this whole ficasso and I'd be lying if I said you being a demon changed it." Dean took a step towards her, "you said you're willing to do anything for this to work?" She nodded her head in affirmation, her eyes filled with hope. "We know how to cure a demon, make them human again."

"You do?" She asked looking surprised.

"Yeah, your father didn't tell you? We almost turned him human!" He chuckled.

"I told you I don't keep up with his evil shenanigans. If I did I'd have known all about you." Dean nodded in understanding.

"So do you-"

"Yes." She didn't even let him finish. "I'd do it."

"It might hurt." Dean warned "and what about your father?"

"Dean, I'm tired of being lonely for centuries. Yes I love my father but he has to let go someday. I can't live like this anymore."

To say Crowley threw a fit when he heard Y/n's decison was an understatement. He was beyond pissed. He went off on Dean, cursing at him, telling him he's always causing problems for him. It took Y/n a while to convince him but he came around when he realised this is where her true happines laid. Even if he was the King of Hell and Dean was his frenemy, he was still Y/n’s father and did gave Dean the 'you hurt her I'll kill you' talk.

The Winchester brothers took her to the Bunker and Sam prepared to cure her. They cuffed her to the chair in the dungeon inside the devil's trap. Sam had gone to bring the human blood, Dean kneeled infront of her. He cupped her face in his hands.

"It's gonna be okay. I'm right here."

"I trust you, Dean." She smiled at him. He placed kissed on her forehead when Sam came back.

Hours later, Y/n was screaming and groaning as they continued to inject her with human blood. Dean felt bad, wanting it to be over soon. When Sam was done, Y/n was sweaty and her head lolled to the side as she threaded on the edge of consciousness.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean patted her cheek lightly. She slowly opened her eyes, her black eyes now y/e/c, full of life. She gave him a tired smile.

"Hiya, Dean."

Dean moved aside allowing Sam to pour holy water on her and she flinched at the sudden splash.

"Sorry, Y/n. It's Procedure." Sam apologised. She nodded lightly, she would've waved him off but her hands were tied. Her flesh didn't sizzle and the two brothers nodded at each other. She blinked a couple of time to adjust her eyes. Dean uncuffed her hands and helped her stand.

"Hi baby." Dean said holding her waist. She didn't waste anytime, pulling him for a kiss which he gladly returned.

"I didn't need to see that." Sam said loudly making them pull apart. "Congratulations Y/n, you're human now."

"Thank you for helping me, Sam." She told the taller man and he smiled at her.

"Thanking just him?" Dean complained.

"Well I thought I'd thank you some other way but if you just need the words...." Dean didn't let her finish before picking her up and making his way towards his bedroom.

Tags:

@deans-baby-momma @bansheesandbutterflies

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