#at one point I started to cry like loudly

[alexa-yukiyu]

Can u do one where mihawk becomes a single father to a baby girl that he got alittle before zoro came to the island can u just show how mihawk would raise her how would persona and zoro would view her mihawk would use zoro as a babysitter sometimes if the nanny is unavailable and zoro would use her to exercise and mihawk find out hes been doing that and basically beats his ass

Like Father like daughter ft Mihawk Perona and Zoro

A/N I like how this one turned out and that idea that you sent in later (im not sure if it’s the same anon, gonna have to ask yall to start labeling yourselves 😅) was such a good idea, I think it’s what gave me the idea to where I wanted the fic to go 👍🏼.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc characters readers!

Consider Buying me a coffee!

“Why are we supposed to take care of her?” Zoro grumbled as he rocked the small cradle.

“Because I refuse to have a bunch of baboons take care of such a darling!” Perona cooed, watching the slumbering infant

Dracule Dokucha, the daughter of Dracule Mihawk, when they first realized the existence of the girl, the loud pair had been shocked beyond belief. Such a stoic guy with a baby? Him? The one who slashed boats in half and sank entire fleets simply because his sleep was disturbed was a father?

It had taken a while to digest, but after a while, they had both accepted it as the usual. Despite his reputation, the man was quite a talented father. He was always up to date with the baby’s hygiene and had never been late to a bottle feeding; not to mention that he had a skilled hand for gardening and sending that straight to the kitchen. At ten months old, the infant had already been exposed to a myriad of flavors and would surely grow to have an extravagant palate like her father.

Despite what came out of his mouth, Zoro had a soft spot for children. Not only that, but he had quite the aptitude for dealing with them, something that everyone but him had long since realized. But even he had to admit that Dokucha was quite a unique child. Young as she was, she was as stubborn as his father. She had one hell of a personality, and he had seen it firsthand.

“Oh! She’s waking up!” Perona cheered, peaking closer as the baby began to fidget, her eyelids growing tighter before they finally opened, seemingly spooked by the proximity of the pink-haired girl and started crying. Loudly.

“You idiot! You scared her,” Zoro hissed as he picked up the girl, hoping to cease the loud wailing.

“Don’t call me an idiot!” She gaped

Zoro rolled his eyes, holding his retort as he turned his attention to the wailing baby and began to try to sway her back to sleep. After a few minutes, he had managed to calm the wailing, but she was still one very unhappy baby. Perhaps it was retribution for such a rude awakening, just like her father, or maybe it was just baby instincts that drove her to reach for the closest thing she could grab onto: Zoro’s hair.

“Gah! For being a baby, you have one hell of a grip!” He cried as he tried to escape her grip

“Bah! Bah! Bah,” Dokucha angrily babbled, tightening her tiny fists and beginning to pull.

“Why you little-

“Ha! That’s what you get for being such an uncute brute!” Perona cackled, swooping in and taking hold of the baby; yet Dokucha gave her the same treatment she had given the swordsman, causing the Devil-fruit user to let out a yelp as she released the girl attempting to escape her grip.

“Watch out!” Zoro called, jumping to catch the falling baby, letting out a sigh as she landed safely in his arms. Straightening up, he sat cross-legged on the grass and brought her closer to his lap, watching hesitantly for any move she would make. But it seemed the baby had been satisfied with the punishment she had delivered earlier as she made herself comfortable, an angry pout still on her face.

“Bah-dah-bah! Gah goo bah!” she rambled, pointing in the direction of the ghost girl. Aggressively waving her arm, she continued to lay it on the ghost girl.

“Agh!” Perona cried, horrified that the girl had grown angry at her as she landed.

“Here!” she called, pulling out a small piece of bread and offering it to the infant.

Upon seeing the small treat, Dokucha paused her ramblings, crawling over and out of Zoro’s shakily toddling her way to Perona until she was close enough to snatch the small treat from her.

“So we’re good?” Perona asked hopefully

“Dah,” the baby replied happily, munching on the bread.

“Ah!” Perona exclaimed, lighting up. Perona called, scooping the girl into her arms and elevating both of them into the air as she spun her around. A grin left her as the baby let out screams of delight.

It didn’t come as a surprise when the Ghost Princess had grown enamored with the young girl, after all, what’s better than a cute stuffed teddy bear? A baby! She was not a fan of the care behind having to take care of a baby, but being able to dress up such a cute thing in anything she wished? Well, that made up for all the other extra tasks that came with Dokucha. From frilly dresses to adorable bear onesies, the baby did not fall short on outfits when the self-appointed Aunt Perona came into the picture.

“Seriously?! All you need is a piece of bread, and you forget she almost dropped you?!” Zoro was accused, baffled, staring at the giggling girls.

“As if you’re one to talk!” Perona exclaimed, diving in front of the man, a manicured hand accusingly pointing at him.

“Did you forget who was the one who took her for your barbaric training, I bet you were using her for some of that stupid training!” She screeched

“Bah gah!” Dokucha agreed

“I needed to continue my training! She was perfectly safe. And why are you complaining?! You slept through the whole thing!” He excused, gaping at the audacity of both girls.

“Dah-gah!”

“You-

“So this is what the two of you are up to when you watch my daughter?” An unamused voice cut in, causing the blood to drain from the squabbling pair, and a gleeful string of babbles from the youngest.

“Ah!” Perona yelped as the infant began struggling in her arms which urged her to place her on the ground watching as she happily crawled to the warlord who scooped her from the ground, a pleased look on his face as he put her on his hip; gaze lifting towards the frozen pair who flinched at the sharp look the man sent their way.

“Now then, it seems you two need a reminder on how a baby is cared for appropriately.”

Mihawk let out a sigh. Not too long ago, he had been aroused from his sleep by his girl's gentle babbling. He had thought that she had simply woken up for a short time and would go back to sleep momentarily. After all, she wasn’t fussing, and this was quite normal. However, this time, it seemed she had no intention of going back to sleep.

With this realization, he removed himself from the bed and approached the small cradle in the room, looking at the girl with an unamused frown, at which she giggled and reached up for him.

“I believe I am allowing you too much time with those two; you didn’t fuss like this before,” he called, picking her up.

“Pa! Bah-Gah!” She babbled back

“You are going to grow up to be quite the hassle, you know?” He said as he slowly made his way to the living room.

“Mah?”

“Yes, you.”

“Gah-boo! Eeey!” she replied, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have said she sounded almost offended.

“Come on, I am certain I can prepare something for us to eat. You are most definitely not going to sleep, and I can already tell you will not allow me to either,” he said, rolling his eyes as she babbled happily in what seemed to be unabashed agreement.

Up next is Trans Dokucha with Whitebeard, I do have to do a but of research and beta reading for that one 🤔

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[sab0dssey]

⋆˚࿔ You were bored. Hopelessly, pathetically bored. Alone at home, in one of Satoru’s oversized shirts that still smelled like his cologne. He was at work, of course saving the world, dealing with curses, or whatever it was that made him forget to reply to your fourth “I’m sooooo bored pls come home 🥺” text. You sighed dramatically, flopping face-first into the couch. Scroll. Scroll. More couples dancing. More people pretending to cry. A raccoon in a dress. Scroll.

Then you paused. A video popped up a girl with a bruised face filter, pranking her boyfriend. He was in hysterics, panicking, until she started laughing. You blinked. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? With renewed purpose, you sat up straight, opened the filter, and tilted your face until the bruises looked realistically tragic. You even cried a little, wiping your tears dramatically as if this were a sad movie audition. Snap. Perfect. You sent the photo to Satoru with the message:

“I didn’t want to freak you out while you were at work, but… I got into an argument with a cashier and they punched me”

And then you waited. One minute. Two. Three…Left on read.

“EXCUSE me!?” you said aloud, arms in the air. “How dare you ignore me in my hour of fake need?”

You were just about to send a dramatic GIF when the front door slammed open like a storm. “BABY?!” Satoru’s voice cracked through the house, full of panic. You heard something crash. Probably the vase. Again.

He burst into the living room, eyes wide, tie hanging loose, hair windblown. “Where is the fucking asshole!? Who did this to you?! Was it a man? A woman? Do you need the hospital? Do you—”

He stopped mid-sentence. You were sitting there, grinning, unhurt, and clearly very proud of yourself.

“…You’re joking,” he said flatly. “Tell me you’re joking.” You couldn’t hold it anymore. You burst into giggles, clutching your stomach. He stared. Jaw clenched. Nose flared. Hands on hips like an angry dad.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“I LEFT A MEETING WITH THE HIGHER-UPS FOR THIS.”

More giggles.

“I TELEPORTED INTO A TAXI.”

You were on the floor laughing now.

“I MAY HAVE COMMITTED A TRAFFIC VIOLATION.”

You snorted. Loudly. “Wait… you teleported… into a taxi?”

His eye twitched.

“I PANICKED.”

Now you were laughing harder. “You’re literally the strongest sorcerer alive—!”

“I SAID I PANICKED!”

He stomped over, looming above you like an avenging god. Then, with the most overdramatic finger point in history:

“Punishment.”

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

“No cuddles for three days.” You gasped like he slapped you. “No kisses.” Your soul left your body.

“No shirt borrowing.” You clutched your chest. “You monster…”

“And,” he said, crouching to your level with an evil smirk, “I’m making you watch me eat your snacks. One by one. Without sharing.”

“SATORU.”

He patted your head like a villain who just blew up a puppy shelter. “Actions have consequences, baby.”

You groaned. “Can’t we negotiate?!”

“Nope. This is Gojo law now. Not Satoru, Gojo.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay. Fine. But when you’re lonely and cold tonight because I’m not cuddling you, don’t come crying—”

“I’ll teleport into another taxi and cry there.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. Then burst out laughing like idiots. Even if cuddles were banned for three days (as if he’d last that long), you both knew it wouldn’t even survive the night.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ

I want him.

© 2025 sab0dssey

[vyxcondessa]

── Coming In Hot; 1/9

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ01. NO SLOWIN' DOWN

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 6.2k

Tags: AU; Mechanic!Bucky, slow burn, slow build, age gap.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

As proof that he once existed in more than just your memory, your dad left behind his 1967 Chevrolet Impala just for you.

It was his “I’m sorry for leaving with another woman and starting another family in a different state, but truly, I loved you, babygirl”.

His words, not yours.

Well—those weren’t his technical words, but it was what you heard nonetheless. You’d been old enough to not entirely resent him for it, and that was about it. You were old enough to see all the fights and the distance between your parents grow for a long time, and separation was something you had seen on the horizon and accepted long before they sat you down and confirmed your suspicions.

The reason was what fucked you up. Them. The things he’d kept hidden from you and your mother.

Regardless—the car was the proof of the good old days when you were younger and your father spent hours in the garage fixing up and cleaning his cars while you talked and helped him whenever he let you.

That Impala was your baby.

Being your baby, you cared for it more than most possessions in your life—you always kept it clean, engine running with the same stuff, oil checked, water filled, tires always on point.

So when that precious, well-cared-for baby starts acting up, it’s like your heart is about to start acting up with it.

You’re fucked.

“You’re not fucked.” Sarah pulls your hoodie from the top of your head, chuckling lightly at your “dramatics”, as she called it.

Blinking at the sudden light, you groan against the library table, still keeping your head between your arms.

“Didn’t you say you used to take it to a mechanic? I remember you telling me about it last year—just take it there,” says Sarah.

“I can’t.” Another sigh leaves your body. After another fight with Mr. Emmon, you had promised you’d find another mechanic—he was too close to your dad and although you liked him, it wasn’t enough to handle all his ‘lectures’ every time you went there. “Mr. Emmon pissed me off for the last time and I told myself ‘oh, it’s okay darling, you’ll find another good mechanic around this town that doesn’t charge the eyes outta your face for fix-ups in an old, 1967 Impala, everything’ll be okay’.”

Sarah lifts one of her eyebrows at you, trying to stifle another laughter.

“And… lemme guess: you never found him?” she asks, faking seriousness.

“Stop laughing at me!” You pick up one of your pens and throw it in her direction, making her resolve fall and laughter come out of her.

A few feet away from you, Miss Penny shushes you both loudly.

Some pairs of eyes snap in your direction with a look that says yeah, shut up and both you and Sarah wince in apology towards them.

Having a meltdown in the university library is only acceptable if you do it quietly, so you sigh with your face hidden behind your hands.

“I didn’t,” you answer her, dropping your hands. “They’re all so expensive it makes me wanna cry, S.”

“Baby, I don’t know what you expected.” A miracle, you think. “This is New York, and we both know that what we get from our side jobs is only enough to make it by.” She shakes her head, and you nod in agreement.

Going to medical school is a dream both of you can only achieve due to the help of family members—in her case, a brother who loves her a lot and in yours, a dad with enough guilt to fill up a really big lake.

“Is there anyone you trust, at least?” She leans in closer against the table to take a good look at you, probably trying to see how much of the drama is actual worry and how much of it is you being extra. “I could help you with the bill if it’s too much and you’ll pay me back when you have time to do extra shots for your other job. You paid me back really soon when I lent you the money for the computer, I trust you.”

That brought a fond smile to your face.

Grad school might’ve given you new headaches and too many bills to keep up with on top of all the school work and mountains of things you have to assimilate daily, but the gods granted you with a bigger gift to handle it all.

Sarah Wilson.

Knowing she had few girl friends since having two kids made no sense in your mind—how could people have a friend like her by their side and let it slip through their fingers was beyond you, but at least you ended up here, at the same time as her.

“Thanks, babe.” You reached over the table to squeeze her hand. “There’s no need for that, though—it’s not even about the price at this point, it’s just the quality of the work I’ve seen.”

It was true; the only two options you’d found available (with prices salty enough to give you kidney stones) inspired little to no confidence at all to you.

Lazy, overpriced work.

Apparently, mechanics who worked with old cars and knew the inner-work of engines that didn’t fall under these new modal types were rare to come by now.

Sarah straightens her posture suddenly, then lifts a finger in your direction. “Wait—I just remembered I can actually help you,” she grins as she takes her phone out of her pocket.

You wait patiently behind her lifted finger. Sarah texts someone and her grin widens when her phone pings with a reply, and after she exchanges a couple more texts, she looks up at you with the satisfaction you usually see on her face after she aces a paper she worked really hard on.

“Who’s the Superwoman of your life?” The question is rhetorical and judging by the grin on her face, she’s aware of it.

“You are.” You extend both hands towards her. “Please tell me you know someone who knows a good mechanic. I don’t even care if I’m gonna drown in debt next month, I’ll post double and pay it when I can, just—do you have it?”

Sarah wiggles her phone in the air. “You owe me a sandwich from Alex & MD.”

“S, I’ll bring you sandwiches for the next three weeks. Text me the number, c’mon,” you giggle at her.

Sarah throws her hair over her shoulder, pleased with the negotiation, and you feel your phone vibrating with her incoming message.

“This is the address to my brother’s friend’s place.” Sarah opens her textbook again, and starts separating her highlighters. “He’s an army-vet too, they served together on Sam’s last tour and when he came back, he opened the shop with the money he had saved. I’ve seen him only a few times, so I forgot about it—he’s pretty nice, I don’t think he’s the type to overcharge for honest work, or at least he didn’t seem like it when I met him.”

“Hon, if Sam vouches for him, I’ll sell my kidney on the black market, no problemo. Who needs kidneys anyway?” You scoff. “Not me. What do they even do?”

Immediately, Sarah answers.

“They control acid-base, water and electrolyte balance, remove toxins and waste products from the body, and— uhm…” she trails off, pursing her lips together in an effort to remember.

You pick it up from where she left off. “Control blood pressure, produce erythropoietin and—”

“Activate vitamin D,” she finishes with you.

You two smile at each other.

“And they said studying together doesn’t work.” She scoffs, and pushes the open textbook towards you. “Your turn. Gimme that Anatomy beast.”

You slide the Anatomy textbook to Sarah, picking up the one she gives you in return and placing it in front of you.

Then you open her text message, forwarded from Sam’s conversation:

sure I do! Bucky’s one of the best mechanics I’ve ever met. tell her to let him know she’s a friend of mine and he’ll look a little less intimidating ;) he’ll take good care of her ride.

Attached to the message was an address and phone number.

Quickly, you throw the address on Google and you see it on street view in the location Sam sent.

It’s a garage named Barnes Auto in big, bold blue letters. The sign is simple, black and blue, and the garage looks bigger than most you see on the main streets of NY, as well as more illuminated.

From the get go, it inspires a little more trust than the last places you’ve checked.

Plus—it was recommended by Sam.

Even if it’s a steeper price than what you can afford, your car is worth it. It’s your only possession so far in life, its seats and engine are filled with memories and even if it sometimes saddens you to remember why you have it in the first place, it’s still valuable and loved.

It’s where you and Sarah had your first heart-to-heart, it’s where you discovered you got in Medical School, and it’s where you want to have many more memories.

What if you have to spend the next few weekends doing some… extra work?

〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️➖〰️

The promise you’d made to yourself that you’d take Bullet to the garage as soon as possible is left behind for almost a week in a haze of lectures, notes, essays due to the next day and, as always, trying not to lose your mind.

Work is helpful when it comes to paying you— both you and Sarah work as hostess in a very fancy restaurant up in the Upper East Side, which is wonderful for tips (old men slipping hundred dollar bills when they think you’re giving them special treatment is the highlight of your weekends) and even better to keep you afloat.

Still, working there doesn’t pay all the bills.

Sarah sells homemade cakes that she puts in cute little cups during break times in Uni, and you… well.

You sell pictures online.

Sarah’s the only person in your life who you’ve ever told about it, and knowing of your online “persona” and not judging you was the reason you two became so close.

“Honey, if people are paying money to see you pose in lingerie, you’re a damn genius in my book and nothing else.”

It had started when you turned seventeen and your mother opened up about the financial situation on your house, and why it had changed so much since your dad left— he was the biggest income of the house and she felt bad — your heart broke to this day to remember it — over not being able to give you as much as he did.

Granted, your father paid for your medical school, relieving you of a lot of debt, but—that was it.

If you called to ask him how he’s doing, chances of getting an answer were slim to none.

He thought the money made up for everything else.

So, you’d decided to make extra cash in a way no one would find out, but you knew it paid off if done right—you started selling sexy pictures.

You’d never sold a fully nude, most of your pictures were viewed as “teasing” or “erotica”, and the spicier ones included new lingerie sets you only managed to afford because of the pictures you started selling, but overtime, the persona you created and the teasing Q&As served for good savings.

The point was: you were never swimming in money.

If something could be pushed off ‘till the next check, it was.

Unfortunately, Bullet — because yes, your car has a name — decides that working properly isn’t something it feels like doing anymore and on a Sunday of all godforsaken days, it starts doing the same noise it did before.

While you’re going back home. Tired from work, at nine pm, Bullet starts making weird groaning sounds through its engine and you turn it off, pulling it to the first open side of the road you find.

“Oh god, please be open, pretty please, please.”

The number Sam had offered you rings three times while you shiver in the chilly October air, and before you can lose hope, the call goes through.

“Barnes Auto, this is Bucky speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” you cry. “I thought you’d be closed by now, oh my god I’m so lucky and so, so stupid. I should’ve taken the car there days ago but I forgot, and now I’m rambling in your ear—I’m sorry.” You take a deep, shaky breath, then try again. You say your name. “That’s me. Hi again. My precious, precious baby is about to die. I can’t let that happen. Sam Wilson told me you could help? You’re Bucky Barnes, right?”

After your embarrassing introduction, you’re expecting a gruff and exasperated tone answering you.

Instead, a low chuckle comes through the line.

“Only Bucky around.” And oh—that’s a nice voice. Smooth, melodic in a way. “I’m assuming you’re Sarah’s girl.”

You wince with your whole upper body— Sam had even warned his friend that you’d drop by. God, you’re a lost cause.

“That’s me.” There’s sheepishness in your voice, the guilty and unsaid ‘sorry I haven’t dropped by yet’, and Bucky must hear it, because he chuckles at you again. “Is this like—a horrible time? Are you closing? I could just tow the car to your place and be there first thing in the morning. I can do a few days without it—I live a bit far from the school, but I’ll get around. I just—I know there’s a problem somewhere and it isn’t with the basic stuff ‘cause I’m always checking those and… And I’m rambling again. God, I’m so sorry,” you shiver again.

“Are you on the road side?” Is all Bucky asks. If he’s bothered by any of your nervous rambling, it doesn’t come out in his voice.

“Uhm—yeah?”

“It’s cold. Call the tow truck and get here; I can squeeze you as the last job of the day.” The way he says it leaves no room for argument, but after a relieved sigh, you still feel the need to thank him.

“Okay, yeah— I’ll call them now.” You take another deep breath, feeling most of the nervousness leave your body with Bucky’s certain and steady tone. “Thank you so much, Bucky. Really—thank you.”

With his next chuckle, you realize just how nice he sounds laughing, even if it is at you.

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t even touched your baby.”

“I’ll make sure to thank you when you do, then.” Usually, smiles this honest are hard to be invoked in you, but Bucky seems to do it easily with his teasing.

“Sure thing.” There are a few noises on his side of the line, and then he exhales. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Kay.”

He hangs up and you stare at your phone for a second, a little lost on why this small exchange relieved you so much.

Oh, well.

The tow truck is called and soon, you’re inside your car on your way to Barnes Auto, praying to anything that’s hearing that his bill won’t look like the dinner bills at the place you work at.

The driver leaves you at the street and you drive Bullet inside of the auto shop with your radio blasting your playlists at an ungodly volume, as per usual.

With snaps and rumbles that sound as horrible as they probably are, you park in the open garage and the only life you see inside of it comes from the few dim lights that are still on.

Then, the noise of the garage door being pulled down behind you points to the life your eyes have been searching for—through the rear mirror you see there’s a figure in dungarees closing the shop, and you exhale happily that you made in before ten pm, because Bucky Barnes is already at angel in your eyes to be working until this hour on a Sunday.

You try turning off your sound system, but it only lowers and raises the volume—great, now the problem’s infiltrated the electrical part of the car.

“Are you kidding me?” You mutter to yourself. “Bullet, this is not the time.”

In the rear mirror, the figure approaches your car.

Through your speakers, Hozier is still singing.

With the war of the fire, my heart moves to its feet. Like the ashes of ash, I saw eyes in the heat, feel it—

The tall and broad figure of Bucky stops outside your driver’s door just as you finally manage to turn the sound off.

When he leans down to peek his head inside, the both of you stare at each other for a heartbeat that stills everything in your mind.

The man standing outside of your car is nothing of what you’d expect.

Matter-of-factly, you realize looking into deep blue eyes that you hadn’t spared a second to what Bucky must look like. The only information you had was offered by Sarah—“Barnes has a prosthetic metal arm, and he usually answers questions about it depending on how they’re asked, but my brother’s told me before he doesn’t really like talking about it”.

Nothing in the report included Maldives-Ocean blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and pretty, pink lips. There was not a single footnote about the smooth, long hair which he kept in a low bun at the back of his neck, or the strand of hair that escaped and framed his sharp cheekbones.

Not that Sarah had the duty of warning you of a beautiful man.

Even if she had, you think, it wouldn’t have prepared you for that face mere inches away from yours.

“It has a name?” Is the first thing Bucky says to you in person.

Completely lost in the shade of his eyes, your eloquent answer is: “Huh?”

God, you must look like a fool. Bucky scratches the back of his neck with his left hand and you catch a metallic glimpse with the motion.

“Your car? It has a name,” he repeats, still sounding a little like a question.

“Oh!” He heard you complaining. You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, burning them entirely. “Yeah—this is Bullet.” You run your hands through the steering wheel and turn your eyes away from that face before your heart leaps out of your chest.

Holy fucking god.

Bucky Barnes has got to be one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen.

Fuck—you curse mentally how flustered you feel to be under his observing gaze, your heart beating way too fast for your liking.

“Nice name.” Nice voice, you answer mentally. “Can I have the keys? I wanna move it to the back. It’s where I work.”

Right! You ignore the Grinch-like voice screeching around your brain about this man’s godly beauty, and then remove the keys from the ignition to place them on Bucky’s waiting palm.

You slide to the passenger seat. When he’s fully seated inside, you focus your attention on the panel to talk again, since looking at Bucky’s face seems to do things to your insides. “Now that you’ve touched it, thanks.”

It’s only Destiny’s irony that Sam’s apparent best friend and now your savior would be the first man to actually spike your interest in, well—forever.

And of course you’d be trapped in work clothes with him inside your nearly broken baby.

Bucky chuckles at your side and starts the engine. “How d’you know I’ll know what’s wrong with it?”

At least that’s an easier question. “Sam vouches for you.” From the handful of times you’ve met the paramedic, you know Sam’s one the most trustworthy people ever. “And you didn’t make the face when seeing that it’s a 60s car.”

“What face?”

“The ‘ugh, this isn’t an automatic BMW or Hyundai, why is she driving this piece of shit?’ face.” You’ve seen it enough times by now. You shrug your shoulders, still not meeting his eyes again. “Most mechanics nowadays seem to be allergic to them.”

“Any mechanic worth his money should smile seeing an old beauty like this.”

“Not a lot of them running around lately.” Bucky opens the next garage door with his remote control, then leads the noisy Bullet towards the open and large garage at the back. “Trust me, I’ve looked.”

“How long have you been looking?” He asks you.

Humming, you think about how long it’s been since you stopped going to Mr. Emmon.

“A year, I think?” Feeling a little bolder now that Bucky’s opening your door and exiting the car, you steal another glance at him. “Haven’t found anyone that seems to truly know what the fuck they’re doing and when I did, they either seemed to think I’m an Upper East Side girl with money to blow—which I’d love to be, but am not, or a stupid and naive little girl that they can rip off to their liking, which I also am not, so.” You sigh and exit the car too. “That took around a year.”

Bucky’s leaning with his hips on the hood of Bullet and listening to you with the hint of a smile on his face.

’He doesn’t talk much, but Sam was right—just say you’re our friend and he should seem a little less intimidating. He’s not too keen on new people, that’s all.’

Sarah’s words make a lot more sense, now.

“You do have some of the Upper East glamour,” says Bucky.

Thankful that the high glass ceiling and the low lighting of the back of the auto shop aren’t enough to illuminate the flush that’s back on your cheeks, you roll your eyes at him with a smile on your face.

“Thanks, it’s all the hours spent watching actual Upper Easters eating their thousand dollar dinners and guiding them to the bar for the hundred dollar drinks.”

It’s said with sass, but you actually enjoy your job.

Bucky laughs under his breath. “Fair enough.” He points to the hood of the car. “May I?”

“Oh my god, yeah—it’s all yours.”

He gives you half a smile again and goes to the front to open the hood.

You exhale slowly when he’s out of your sight.

You can see now why Sarah warned you before coming here.

Bucky’s reserved, quiet and pulling as much as a smile out of him seems to be harder than with most people.

You’re not the friendliest person — an eternal case of Resting Bitch Face tends to keep most unwanted interactions away from you — but when you try, people flock to you easily.

Making others smile and laugh with their whole chest is far from a task to you.

People are your thing. Helping them when it hurts—that’s a talent you were born with.

Even still—Bucky seems to be different.

You swallow thickly, a knot forming on your throat at the racing thoughts on your mind.

Why should you want to see him smile? Bucky seems happy underneath the seriousness, he is far from being your patient (as far as you are from being a doctor) and you’ve literally just met.

Logically, you’re aware of all that.

Still, for some reason, you want to hear him laugh.

“Bullet’s well-cared for.” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you see him leaning to the side of the hood to look at you. “You take good care of him,” he praises.

It goes straight to your head, and the blushing only gets worse.

“Oh—thanks.” Tentatively, you take a couple of steps closer. Leaning against the side of the hood, you can see Bucky looking at the engine with hands that are already black from a whole day of work. “I don’t get the engine parts and the inner works, but I can get by with the basics.”

He looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “What’s the basics?”

Unlike all the other mechanics you’ve met, his question feels laced with genuine curiosity other than entitlement.

Like he wants to know how much you do for the car, instead of “testing” your knowledge.

You clear your throat. “Well, I always keep the oil in check and change it before it starts to get darker—I know with newer cars you can wait ‘till it’s at the point of changing, but with older ones, it’s better to keep it fresh to help keep the engine clean.” Your dad made sure you remembered that before he left. “Water’s always filled up, brake pads were checked last year, and I always keep an eye on the tires.”

When you’re done listing all the things you’re familiar with, Bucky’s hidden smile becomes an actual smirk.

“D’you know how to change tires?” He asks, curiosity lacing every word.

You shrug. “Yeah, of course.”

“‘Of course’, she says.” He gives a breathy chuckle, looking down at your car’s engine again. “I had mechanic students enrolling last year who didn’t. Well—he claimed he knew it ‘in theory’, but never changed a tire before in his life.” Bucky sounded very amused for someone who was rolling his eyes. When he opens your water reserve tank, he looks up at you. “Have you changed one before?”

Now he’s teasing you.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes. I’ve changed tires before in my life,” you answer with enough sass to rev a Porsche engine. “Every friend I have that learns I can change a tire calls me when they have a flat one.”

He nods at that, smiling a bit more. “Good, good.”

“Do you know how to change a tire?” The silly and teasing question is out of your lips before you can stop yourself.

You freeze on the spot, but Bucky looks up at you surprised, and then, he bursts out laughing.

Oh, what a lovely song.

“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

He’s still chuckling when he looks down at Bullet’s engine again, shaking his head at himself.

“D’you wanna take a seat? This is gonna take a few minutes.” He points to the bench that’s in the middle of all the cars parked in this area, but there isn’t an inch of you that wants to move.

“Actually… does it bother you if I watch?” You ask in a smaller voice. Something about the calm and calculative way Bucky roams the pieces of Bullet makes you feel good. “You can totally say no—I know lots of people hate being watched working. I’m just—I like watching. I used to sit in the garage with my dad as he re-did some stuff on his cars and pass him the tools, you know? It soothes me.”

You have no idea what on earth brings you to offer the last bits of information to him—it’s not as if Bucky cares why the hell a strange woman wants to watch him work, but talking with him is so easy that it just… slips by.

When he looks up at you, he watches your face for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders.

“Feel free.” He points to a chair that’s close to the garage door. “You can grab that.”

For the next twenty or thirty minutes, you sit in silence a few feet away from Bucky as he analyzes superficially what can be wrong with Bullet.

In every other auto shop visit, you spent the entire time thinking about cash and your father.

In here, all you can think about is how beautiful Bucky’s metallic arm looks under the moon and the LED lights.

How calm he looks while picking apart a machine that you can only begin to understand.

You watch Bucky work with a tilted head, only glancing at your phone vibrating like crazy to see how much time has passed.

Looking and reading the messages you received is unnecessary now: Sarah’s gonna have to wait.

(You had sat down and texted her only two things: YOU owe me Alex & MD sandwiches for a week. A warning would’ve been nice.

He’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, S. Wtf?)

When Bucky’s done with his superficial diagnosis, he sighs deeply.

Immediately, you groan out loud and drop your face behind your hands.

“No, no—hey, it’s not that bad.” There’s the sound of Bucky steps coming near you, but you’re too scared to look up. “The time away from a mechanic’s probably why one problem led to another, but from what I’ve seen, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

You open your fingers just enough to peek your eyes at him.

“Promise?” You ask.

Bucky smiles at you fully for the first time.

“Yes. Leave Bullet to me, I’ll run a complete diagnosis and by the end of the week, I’ll tell you how much it’d cost to fix it all.” He starts cleaning his fingers with the rug that was on his shoulders. “If it’s too much to doall at once, we can see what needs to be fixed to get it running again—once you give me the green light, I’ll start working on him.”

Whether it’s his reassuring smile or the fact that he calls your car by its name, you feel like you’d leave anything on this man’s hands.

“Yeah. Sure.” Your smile grows wider when he nods in satisfaction. “I hope Bullet behaves with you—she acts up whenever other people try driving her and stuff.” You get up from the chair with a low chuckle. “I’m kinda sad I’ll miss all the good bits.”

Bucky starts walking back inside in the direction of what looks like the shop’s office, and you follow him closely.

“You really like knowing all the nitty-gritty details?” He asks.

The look he sends back at you is the same as when he asked what was the ‘basics’ you knew—curiosity.

“I really do.” The reason was sappy and something he’d hardly find interesting, so you try to keep it short. “I understand very little of what’s going on, but I still think it’s a really cool process. Operating machines is not up my alley.”

Bucky laughs at you again. “Aren’t you studying to operate the most complicated machine ever?”

Huh. He has a point.

“Good point.” Bucky opens the office door and gestures for you to get inside, and as you enter you curse the better lighting inside it because in here your blush can’t be missed, even on your tanned skin. “I guess it depends on the machine, then.”

“The ones with oil and water are much easier than the ones with blood and… other fluids.” Bucky gets behind his desk and starts looking through the papers.

“Are you trying to get me to change careers, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky doesn’t seem much older than you—you’re in your mid-twenties and he must be ten years older than that, tops.

His lips curl in a funny manner at the ‘Mister’. “That sounds like you’re talking to my pops—just Bucky ’s fine.” He finds what he’s looking for, and you can read from where you stand ‘client file’. “And don’t worry, Mrs. Y/L/N, I wouldn’t dream of tryin’ to change your ways.”

You scrunch your nose, much like he had a second ago.

“Okay, I see it now; just Y/n is fine too.” He chuckles at you, then pushes the paper towards you. “I think it’d be a bit late for me, anyway.”

“Never too late to learn something you like.” He seems to be quoting it from memory, and you look up from the paper to him. “’s what my dad used to say. Maybe a little harder, but never impossible.”

The sad smile Bucky gives you wrenches your heart impossibly tight.

“Mr. Barnes sounded very wise.”

With your comment, his sad smile turns a little bit brighter.

You two sit in a comfortable silence as you fill in the form and Bucky explains the shop’s working hours; apparently, this Sunday he’d been here doing paperwork that was overdue and you had caught him by luck.

You must thank him at least four more times before everything’s written down and he closes the office behind you two.

“Uhm—I’d offer you a ride, but I came on my bike and I don’t have a spare helmet, so—” he starts, but you interrupt him shaking your head profusely.

“Bucky, you’ve done plenty for me tonight, trust me.” He laughs a little at your eagerness and scratches the back of his neck with his metal hand. You’ve noticed it seems to be a nervous habit of his. “I’m just gonna call an Uber and head home. Don’t worry about lil’ old me.”

“Don’t call yourself old in my presence, for the love of god,” he groans.

Without looking up from your phone, you snort. “If you try to tell me you’re one day older than thirty-five, I won’t believe you, so I don’t know what you’re on about.”

His silence makes you look up, and finding Bucky looking at you with his head tilted to the side and an inquisitive expression on his face is the last thing you needed at the end of the week.

He looks so curious. So soft.

“Thanks.” He’s trying to hold his smile back again, and for some reason, it makes you blush again. “But I’m thirty-nine.”

Oh. “Liar.”

He laughs at you, the same bright chest laughter as before when you asked if he could change a tire.

“Alright,” says Bucky.

He starts shifting his weight from one foot to another, and you notice that he hasn’t moved from your side because he’s about to wait for you to get inside the Uber before he leaves.

Just what you needed on top of everything else—the man is a gentleman.

Do they even make men like this anymore? You’d been thoroughly convinced that the mold which made a kind, beautiful, and funny gentleman had been broken a long time ago.

“You didn’t have to wait with me,” you tell him in a whisper.

Bucky looks to you again with a frown on his face. “‘Course I did.”

Simple as that; ‘of course’ he did.

“D’you uhm… d’you want to have follow-ups for what I do to Bullet?” He asks, scratching his nape once more.

Not following, you tilt your head. “What do you mean?”

Bucky shifts his glance from you to where his bike is, then licks his lips.

“I don’t usually offer this to clients ‘cause most of them don’t give a damn about what’s done as long as it’s done well, but you said you liked knowing, so—you don’t have to, of course. You might like just watching, but if you wanna know, I could text you the updates.”

The rushed, matter-of-factly and false careless way with which Bucky offers you that are the reasons why you’re unable to lie to yourself: He’s nervous.

Nervous to offer you this, as if you’d be crazy enough to say no.

“Of course!” His eyes widen a little at your enthusiasm, and this time you could care less about the heat on the top of your cheeks. “I mean—that’s really nice of you to offer. If it’s not gonna bother you or your work, I’d love some updates. I’m gonna miss her.”

Bucky exhales clearly, then laughs lightheartedly.

“Why’s it her?”

Your Uber notification tells you they’re one minute away, so you use the gateway braveness to tell him.

“All my dad’s rides were a ‘her’.” Even the one he hid for years and left you for. “He was a man of many hers, it turns out,” you bitterly add.

Bucky catches on to the hidden words quickly, and his expression turns very somber.

“Many men are.” His voice sounds lower when he’s being serious, but still as melodic as ever. “It just means they aren’t enough by themselves. So they need ‘hers’ and the highs to fill up imaginary holes, I’ve learned.”

If this man impressed you anymore during one night, you’d end up leaving your heart in his shop’s office drawer.

Thankfully, your ride pulls up just in time.

“Seems like the wisdom of Barnes passed on to the next generation.” You extend your cellphone towards him. “Number. I’ll text you something so you can update me on Bullet.”

Bucky smiles down at your phone as he types his number, then offers it back to you with a tight-lipped, shy smile.

“I’ll see you, Y/n.” He looks at the Uber with calculating eyes. “Take care, yeah? Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah, okay.”

All the home, your thoughts linger on the way he stood in front of his shop watching your car leave.

When you get home, you text him: Lady Bullet’s owner here. I’m home :)

And as a reply, you get: Happy you’re home safe. Good night, Lady Bullet.

ㅤㅤㅤ. masterlist ;

ㅤㅤ. next chapter (July 7th);

ㅤ. tip me ☕

[dawnfire12]

Day off with the Saja Boys

Pairing: Saja Boys (Kpop Demon Hunter) X You (female)

Summary: You are the boys’ manager and you all deserve a day off. What you consider a day off is different than what they consider a day off. You want to pamper yourself and sit in a sauna, relaxing your body. Well the boys have other plans in mind for your body 😉

Warning: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, multiple orgasms, all consensual.

A/N: I haven’t proofread it at all lol. I hope you enjoy it! And as requested by @noyeahhh

You wake up by nature's alarm clock with the sun passing over your eyelids. You stretch, getting up and looking at the time. 7:00 am, even on a day off you can’t help but wake up early. You go to your bathroom and brush your teeth so you can eat as your stomach growls loudly. You shuffle into the shared kitchen that you have with the saja boys. As their manager, it’s just easier to live in the same space as them.

You yawn and see Baby on the couch. Just like his name, he’s always up the earliest. 

“Hi Baby.” You wave.

He looks up at you and beckons you over. You collapse next to him on the couch and he wraps his arms around your waist, putting his head on your chest. 

You pet his back, "Did you sleep well?”

He nods and moves his head towards your neck where you are sensitive. His breath makes you wiggle.

“That tickles.” You whisper.

He grins and starts kissing your neck. You hum, extending your neck a bit and stroking his hair. He’s always affectionate in the morning. His kissing turns to sucking and you let out small sighs. He brings your hand down to his clothed dick that’s hard and you push his boxers down to stroke his dick. You lean forward to spit on it to lube up your hand to make it more pleasurable for him. You set an even pace and he whimpers in your ear and ruts into your hand. His hand travels to your little silk shorts and rubs you through them.

You moan,”Baby, it’s too early.”

“I need you.” He begs. 

You sigh,”Baby.”

He pulls down your shorts and places two fingers into your damp pussy. He opens you up with a scissoring motion against your walls making his fingers become even wetter. 

You moan quietly, "Everyone is sleeping.”

He withdraws his fingers and turns you over so your face is in the cushion and your ass is up. He thrusts into you at a fast pace that has you gripping the cushions and using them to muffle your moans.

“I just need to feel you.” He moans.

Even though your moans are quiet, the slapping of the skin is loud. He places one hand on your hair, making sure your head stays down and in a way using you as his only fleshlight. 

“Ah, ah, ah! You feel so good! I just want to stay in you!” He whimpers.

He rubs your clit, making you cry out.

“Please cum! I need to feel you cum so bad! It feels so good when you cum! Squeezing my dick!” He begs you. 

It doesn’t take long for your legs to tremble and clamp down on his dick while your orgasm crashes over you.

“Ah! Yes! Just like that! So good! Mhmm!” He moans and climaxes.

He pumps into you a few more times before pulling out and pulling your shorts and his back on. 

You huff out air, “Well now I need a shower.”

He looks at you with puppy eyes, "Thank you!”, as if he’s an innocent child. As if he wasn't just pounding you a few moments ago.

You get up from the couch and start to walk towards your room when another door opens. It’s Mystery wearing a silver silk set of pjs, almost like yours. You hope he didn’t hear the activity in the living room.

“Good morning.” You whisper to him.

He waves and drags you into the room. He closes the door behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing you. You let out a gasp of surprise and wrap your arms around his neck. He starts walking backwards towards his bed and sits on it. You follow to the point where you are standing in between his legs and he’s leaning up to kiss you. He leans away from you, breaking the kiss and forces you on your knees. He takes out his fully erect cock.

“You heard us in the living room?” You ask.

He nods, "Made me so horny. Now you have to fix it.”

He strokes himself a few times, staring at you. You lick your lips and lean over to place his cock in your mouth. You breathe in through your nose as you take his dick in your throat. He groans and it vibrates in your mouth. You moan back. You start moving your mouth up and down, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue along his shaft. 

He moans, "Just like that baby.”

You suck faster, not wanting to disappoint him and brush the tip with your tongue a few times. He hisses and starts grabbing your hair, moving his hips up. You gag a little, causing you to moan and grab onto his thighs.

“Fuck yes! I’m gonna cum down your throat! And you will drink. Every. Drop.” He enunciates as he thrusts into your throat. 

You cry out (muffled) as you feel the warm liquid hit the back of your throat. He pulls his dick out of your mouth and pulls you up to softly kiss you. He gives you slow pecks, tasting himself on his tongue and pulls down your shorts. 

“What are you doing?” You ask him as he brings you to sit on his thighs.

“I just want to feel you for a little.” He places his once soft dick, now already hard, into your pussy.

You dig your nails into his shoulders from the intrusion. He sinks you down all the way and you whimper. Once he’s fully in, you are trying to control your breath and he doesn’t move. He has every intention of leaving you to cockwarm him. He runs his hands up and down your back, making you shiver. The shivering has his dick move up into you a little bit and you moan.

The sound of your moan, his demon nails come out and dig into your hips. Without warning, he pulls up and slams you down on his dick. 

You cry out, "Mystery!”

He thrusts up into you and pulls your hair.

“I was gonna have you be a good girl and let you cockwarm me for a little but you couldn’t help it. Could you?” He asks.

You moan, "It’s not my fault.”

“Hmm. We will see about that.” He smirks and rubs your clit.

“Mystery!” You moan.

“Yeah! Yeah! Fuck! Clench on me just like that!” He keeps pounding into you. 

All you can focus on is how good his dick feels thrusting up into you and how your pussy is tightening that you know you aren’t going to last.

“Mystery! I’m gonna cum!” You warn him.

“Yes! Cum!” He moans and you follow his command. He thrusts a few more times, unable to fight the tightening of your walls and fills you up.

“Jesus!” You exhale as you come down from your high. 

He kisses your cheek, "You should probably shower with all the cum in you.”

You glare at him, "I wonder who’s fault that is.”

He kisses you again and untangles himself from you. You leave his room, entering yours and jumping straight into the shower. Who knew that this would be your life? Orgasming twice in one day by different boys. You need a raise.

The water is warm and relaxes your muscles. You sigh into the shower with your eyes closed, facing the water and feel a cool breeze behind you. You think maybe you left a window open and turned around to see Abby.

“Abby! What the hell!” You exclaim.

He smiles all goofy,”Hi!”

“Hello! Why are you in my shower?” You stare at him.

He smirks, "I want a turn.”

You gape at him. Next thing you know he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around your waist and placing you against the tile while kissing you. He kisses like he is devouring your soul. His tongue suffocates you in a good way. You gasp at every pass his tongue makes and he trails down to your neck and to your boobs. He sucks on them one at a time, leaving hickies and leaving you gasping. He brushes one finger against your opening and sees you are dripping for him.

He impales you on his dick and gives you no time to adjust. He sets a brutal pace that has your mind scrambling and making you only moan. He is in you so deep and he is very thick. It feels so good to be stretched out by him.

“I knew this is what you needed.” He brags as he sucks on your tits.

You’re so glad he has such upper body strength because your body is giving up on its own strength based on how he is pounding into your pissy.

“Abby! Right there!” You cry out as he hits your gspot.

“I know how to make my girl cum!” He moans, "And I need you to cum on my cock now.”

You open your eyes, "I can’t just from this.”

He laughs, "Oh yes you will!”

He keeps hitting your gspot over and over again, making you see stars and leaning your head back against the wall, cumming so hard.

“Ah! Abby!” You cry out as he continues to fuck you.

“Told you so! Now take my cum!” He pushes up into you one last time, shooting his seed in you.

You lean your head on his shoulder as he slowly moves his hips a few times and takes out his dick, placing you on the floor. You grip his arms as your legs feel like jelly.

“Look at you all wrecked.” He licks his lips.

“Don’t lick your lips. I know what you’re thinking, get out.” You protest.

He holds up his hands and slips out of the shower room.

You lean your head against the wall. You just wanted to take a shower but can’t deny how you loved his dick. You clean yourself up, only wearing a robe and go to your room. Even though it’s supposed to be a relaxing day you can’t help but send some emails, ensuring that the events the boys have to go to are booked. At some point your eyes close with your laptop still on your lap.

The next time you open your eyes, you wake yourself up with a moan, gripping the sheets as you feel a tongue moving in you. You lean up as you feel another wave of pleasure through you and look down to see Romance eating you out. You barely have time to cry out his name as you cum on his tongue. He drinks up every bit you can give him.

He crawls up your body and kisses you, "Hi.”

“Hi.” You whisper back and brush your hand over his bangs.

You look over to see your computer closed and on the floor. He brings your face to look at him as he kisses you softly. You sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He caresses your body like you’re made of glass and massages your thighs. He licks your neck and your boobs before making his way back down to your wet center. He places one finger in you to stretch you out a bit.

“So wet for me.” He hums before placing his hands over your head and thrusting in you.

He goes slowly, making sure to savor every moment in you. There’s no urgency, just the feeling of being connected. 

“Oh, my love.” He whispers against your lips.

Your whimper and clench around his dick.

“You’re so good! My pretty girl!” He starts moving faster, chasing down our orgasms.

Your legs tighten around his waist and your nails scratch down his back. One particular thrust has your head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth wide open with all the moans falling out.

“Cum my love! Milk my cock!” He circles your clit.

“Oh fuck! Romance! Please don’t stop! Ah! Right there! Please! Ah Romance!” Your walls clench on his cock as you cum.

“Yes! Yes!” He cums in you, lazily thrusting as he rides out his high. 

You whimper as he slips out of you. He grabs some of your clothes from the drawer, dresses you and kisses you softly. You blink up at him as you whisper a small thank you. He leaves your room and you follow to grab some food from the kitchen. However, once again, you are pulled into another room. Jinu has you pressed up against his locked door and doesn’t give you a chance to react as he furiously kisses you. He bites your lip and is digging his hands into your hips. 

He releases your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe before he lifts you up and has your legs around his waist. He presses you against the door and grinds against you. You throw your head back as he bites your neck. 

“Jinu!” You cry. 

With one hand, he keeps you up and pushes his pants down before pushing yours down.

He positions his dick in front of your center, "No need to prepare. I know you still have his cum in you.”

He thrusts up into you and sets a relentless pace. Your body moves up and down the door from the force of his thrusts. From this position, your clit is rubbed against his pelvis each time causing your legs to tighten harder against him. You’re so sensitive that your orgasm builds fast and you are seeing stars. 

“Fuck!” He cums after your walls squeezed him so tight.

You thought he would be done but he puts you on the bed and has you on all fours. He gives you no time to adjust and thrusts into you. Set at the same pace as before. He pulls your hair and you grasp at the covers.

“Look at you. Taking my cock so well” He praises.

You moan and your eyes flutter close.

“Uh nuh. Eyes open pretty.” He demands.

You open your eyes and see a mirror in front of you. You can see (and feel) how hard he is pounding against you and how wrecked you are starting to look.

“I bet you only look this wrecked on my dick, isn’t that right?”

You moan instead of an answer.

He yanks your hair a bit more, "Answer.”

“Yes Jinu!” You cry.

“Good girl!” He lets go of your hair and rubs your clit.

You try to squirm away but he holds you close.

“Be good. You know you want to cum.” He coos.

You start drooling, "Ah! Jinu! AH! Ah! Right there! Don’t stop! MMHPM!”

“Fuck!!!!” He cums in you as you start coming.

Your legs are twitching as he fills you. He pumps in you a few times and rests on your back, kissing it a few times. He pulls out and carries you to his bathroom where he has a tub of water already prepared. He slips in with you and washes you. He turns you to face him and kisses you softly. You open your mouth for him and he brings you closer and starts pulling you on his dick.

“No more.” You whisper.

His eyes pout, "Please just one more. Just wanna feel you.”

Before you can protest he’s slipping in. You can feel how thick and long he is in this position. He’s definitely the biggest and thickest dick out of all the boys. He thrusts into you, grabbing onto your hips and you can only hold onto his arms. You just started but by the way you have been cumming all day you know you can only last a few more moments.

“Jinu! I can’t! It’s too much!” You cry out.

He thrusts up even faster, making all the water splash around.

“Please just one more! I need you to cum again! Need to feel you squeeze my dick! I need you to be full of my cum! Only mine! Say your mine!” He begs you.

You sob, ”Yours Jinu!”

The next few thrusts have you over the edge and you cum so hard you black out for a moment. You come to when he cums in you for the last time that night. You blink in and out of consciousness, needing a full day of recovery after the sex marathon. You barely stay awake while he washes you up and tucks you into bed. 

The next morning you wake up sore but fully satisfied. You get up and lock your door to continue your work. You hear knocks at the door but ignore them. The boys whine and beg you to let them in. You know they could just come in with their powers, however, they respect that your door is locked. After a few hours, you venture into the kitchen to eat and see the boys in the living room.

You point a water bottle at all of them, "Listen. I’m human. I don’t have as much stamina as you guys. So please keep your dicks away from me for the next few days.”

The boys all pout and groan except for one member who doesn’t like the tone you took. 

As you walk back to the kitchen, a pair of arms wrapped around you and kisses your neck. You place your water bottle on the table and lean into the arms. While you are getting neck kisses, the person is grinding their dick into your ass. You whimper and turn in their arms.

“No more Jinu.” You say.

He responds with furious kisses and pulls your shorts down. He pushes you onto the table and has one of your legs up while he devours your pussy. His tongue moves in you like he’s trying to take your soul out from your pussy. You cry, grabbing his hair and leaning your head back on the table. While your eyes are closed from the pleasure, he pushes down his pants and pounds into you.

“Jinu!” You cry out.

His hips slap into yours hard and the whole table is shaking.

“I seem to recall you cumming a lot yesterday. Right?” He pants.

“Yes! Jinu!” You grip his arms.

“And now you say no more? That’s not your choice baby. I didn’t hear a thank you from all those times you came, did I?” He questions you. His nails and teeth turning sharp, the nails nip your hips leaving you with small scratches as he bites down on your neck.

You didn’t think you could moan any louder. It’s so hard to focus when he keeps hitting your gspot and touching your clit.

“You’re right Jinu!” You moan.

“You gonna tell me thank you?” He demands.

“Uh! UH! Yes! Ah! Thank you Jinu!” You wail.

“Good girl. Learning her manners. Cum for me again!” He summons a vibrator and places it on your clit.

The vibration makes you cum instantly and you see white. Your walls squeeze his dick so hard he has no choice but to cum in you. He slows down and stares at how delicious you look. You blink slowly and next time you open your eyes the boys are all surrounding you with their fully erect dicks out.

“You thought you were done? Well I’m going to keep fucking you as the boys take their turns having you suck their dick.” Jinu kisses your lips for reassurance.

It looks like the Saja boys will be taking another week to “rest”.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯! 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s been stealing your panties since the week he met you. Collecting them in different pretty colors and fabrics. Using them to jerk off every night with the groan of your name. Stuffing them under his nose or using them to stroke his cock, either way had him cumming to the thought of you all the same.

He takes your stuff and holds them over your head. Watching your tits bounce as you whined and struggled to reach. Smirking widely as he teased, “if you want it back so bad then kiss me.” Blood rushing to his cock when you actually get on your tip toes to kiss him shortly, forcing your lips to stay on his when you try to pull away.

Who pretends to be asleep until he hears your soft moans at one in the morning. Quietly cracking open your door to watch you touch yourself, his hard cock already in hand as you moaned and mewled so fucking prettily. Stroking at the pace of your desperately working fingers till you two orgasm at the same time.

Who ‘accidentally’ sends you a video of him lazily jerking off on his bed, his lip in between his teeth and his other hand behind his head as he looks directly into the camera. The message coming through followed by a small “oops, sorry sweetheart, wrong person”

Who starts getting bolder and bolder even after you suspect him of being the reason for your missing underwear. Leaving slight yet noticeable touches to your ass and boobs whenever he had the chance. Always laughing it off and joking about how soft you were and about how perfectly your tits fit in his hand.

Who calls you up to his room when he’s about to cum, his lips parting in heavy breaths as you walked in clad in your short pajama set. Your eyes widening as he fisted his length, eyes meeting yours with a loud groan as he spilled onto his hand. “Shit, can you grab me that box of tissue?” Letting out heavy breaths with a dark grin.

Who starts walking around the house with nothing but low hanging sweats to get you flustered. Brushing up against you or wrapping his toned arms around your body. His rock like abs against your back as he whispered into your ear. “Well these shorts are shorter than usual.” Loving the way your face heated up for him.

Who starts to make you sit in his lap for everything. Saying that you weren’t allowed to watch tv unless you did it from his lap. Or that you couldn’t seat at the table to eat breakfast unless it was again, on his lap.

Who suddenly wants to spend all his time with you so that you couldn’t go out as often. He wanted you, and would make you his at some point.

Who finally sinks his cock into your tight pussy after teasing you subtly all day. “Waited so long for this.” He grunted, his thumb running over your bottom lip which was swollen from all his rough kissing. “Feels even better than i expected.”

You cried out loudly, small whimpers falling past your parted lips as his hold on your legs tightened. Holding them in place over his shoulders as he fucked into you harshly. Thick cot brushing against your g spot as it hammered deep.

“That’s it, just take it baby. Please mama? Take it f’me yeah?” He breathed, his head in your neck as he licked and sucked dark marks onto your skin. Snapping his hips into yours in oute need, not being able to get enough of the moment that he dreamed for so long about.

“Does that feel good baby?” Watching as you nodded with a teary cry, your eyes fluttering shut as your back arched off his sheets.

“Look at me.” he groaned, your eyes peeling open to meet his as you both filled the room with your noises. “Wanna fill you up so bad, pussy’s so fucking perfect.”

“S-satoruu— nngh,”

“Oh fuck baby, let me hear my name again.” He breathed, hand snaking lightly around your neck. Your choked moans and babbles getting louder as your stomach tightened. Gojo never slowing his pace as he fucked you dumb.

“Haah, Sat-oruu, ahh,” you mewled, your pussy tightening as your body began to tremble. Gripping onto the sheets at your side at the orgasmic build up.

“Can feel you getting close, squeezing me so tight,” Gojo grunted, lewd squelching sounds filling your ears each time his cock bullied its way deep. “I’ve got you baby, cum f’me.” His hand squeezed down on your throat, your wet eyes meeting piercing blue ones with a chant of his name. His cock twitching inside you as your pussy messily thanked his cock.

“O-oh fuck- ‘m never letting you go you know that? Wanted you for way too long.” His eyes fixed on yours as you shook your head.

You felt so good, and he found him self unable to come to a stop even as he got close.

“S-satoru—”

“C-can’t baby, feels so good, shit— gotta cum in you.” Pressing his lips onto yours to muffle your whines as he gave his final sloppy thrusts. His hips flush against yours as he buried himself deep inside you with a moan. His eyes rolling back as he spilled into you, pumping ropes after ropes of the sticky substance onto your walls.

Gojo pulled away with a satisfied breath, swiping his tongue across his lips with an unapologetic smile at the look on your face. “Sorry princess.”

[thephantomsdream]

"If you keep staring at me like that, I'll have to ask you what are we?" Imagine being the witness of a serious crime, but the team thought you were involved somehow and needed to rule you out. Cue to big, scary, mysterious, masked Ghost trying to intimidate you by existing near you.

Soap snorts and pats Ghost on the back, which earns a glare from him, all after the man blinked confused. He had pretty eyes. Gaz moves to a corner to smile way too much, and Price sighs loudly.

After a few more minutes of explaining that you were just on your way to your shitty job and that they needed to wrap this up before you are to inevitably getting fired, Ghost still looks straight into your soul, now with more intensity somehow.

At this point, you grit your teeth. You might legit not have a job after this, since you're already half an hour late, and this (weirdly cute) fucker is trying to read your thoughts.

"Oh, you're really into me, aren't you?" He blinks seemingly uninterested and you raise a brow at him, starting a staring contest until Price (as he previously introduced himself) got in between you two.

"I don't think you understand the situation that you're in." It took all of your will to not groan like a child and roll your eyes at him.

Cue to another round of you doubling down and explaining that you're extremely lame but a good person, all while Gaz still looks you up.

"She might be telling the truth, boss." He whispered to Price in the corner of the abandoned shop they broke onto to have some privacy. The man has been trying to confirm your identity all this time, meanwhile you looked up at your number one fan to say "I told you so" and gave him an exasperated sigh when you already caught him intensely staring into your eyes.

"Seriously..." You mutter and you almost believe seeing a crinkle of amusement in his eyes. Your eyes almost twitched. "I pronounce us husband and wife." You say, rolling your eyes at him. Yeah, take that, fuck-face. You childishly thought, absolutely thriving at his slow, surprised blink. Soap cackled and tried to hide it with a cough.

Long story (not) short, you were indeed let go after Gaz confirmed you're broke, lame and basic. No secret villain or anything. After they kinda apologized, Price basically tried to gaslight you into thinking everything is fine then tried to dip his toes into mansplaining the importance of greater things beyond you, he nodded to himself and patted you on the back before barking an order to his soldiers to move. Pretty brown eyes stayed glued onto your soul until you were pretty much skipping away out of sight, rushing to your job incredibly annoyed.

You couldn't really explain your absence to your boss and he didn't care much either, he told you to get to work.

Surprise, surprise, though, because at the end of your shift, he sugarly informed you that you're fired. He gave you the pay he owed you and there you were. Jobless. And probably homeless in a month's time.

A week later and some intense job hunting done, you're at your wit's end, truly. Job market is shit and nobody is looking to hire. As you enter your ratty apartment, you sigh and almost want to cry in frustration. You've been cursing the terrorists, soldiers and any motherfucker involved in last week's incident, entering your kitchen to grab a drink and eat some air since you needed to save money, when you froze in place.

In the middle of your tiny living room stood a massive dark frame, the outside lights shining through the balcony door behind him made the man unrecognizable. You were getting robbed. You just caught a dude right in the middle of robbing you. As if it was the cherry on top, every frustration you felt erupted out of you, and while you were still terrified by the massive frame, you growled a "Get the fuck out of my house."

A deep chuckle was your only response and you felt dread.

"You got spunk. And a shit survival instinct." He stepped closer. You stepped back immediately, calculating your route to the door, hoping he wouldn't be able to catch you. Denial. You knew. But you froze again in surprise. You knew that mask.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" It came more of a whisper, thinking you'd never meet those people again. Even standing up in front of him, he's massive. Maybe he came back for those dumbass comments you made. Oh, this is revenge, isn't it? He's built, he can legit destroy you with a punch. Oh, God, you're fucking dead. They still think you're a terrorist or some shit and he's here to destroy you out of existence.

Your mind rambled until he moved, and when he did, you tensed, mind blank. The man, the Ghost took a couple of steps towards you and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, pulling you close. Oh, you're gonna fucking die for sure. He leaned down to your eye level, making you stare into his dark eyes as he studied you.

"Came back to take care of my wife." He said. It was your turn to slowly blink at him. What?

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around. 

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question. 

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying. 

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon. 

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out. 

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom. 

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!” 

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in. 

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed. 

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow. 

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home. 

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent. 

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent. 

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection. 

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: It's Here!

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. heavy torture. stress incontinence (brief). hurt/no comfort.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

Part 2

It's calm.

The sea breeze brushes against your cheeks, your skin warm under the sun, and your toes squirming in the sand. You've been begging your parents to take you to the beach for months since middle school started, and now you're here.

Family. Your cousins, your siblings, your aunties and uncles. Nothing can ruin it! It's perfect.

A bucket of sea water hits you from the back, making you gasp. In an instant, you're up. "You guys are dead!" you scream, laughing as you chase after them.

It's so, so nice.

Then, a weird smell makes you pause as you're chasing your favorite older cousin, knee deep in the ocean.

It brings you back to when you were a toddler, picking up one of your grandfather's old rags, forgotten in a corner. It'd seen too many raining days, all crumpled up. It was sour. Foul.

Almost like poison.

But why did you remember such thing right now?

Your cousin's dark eyes glint, but you can't focus. No, you can't move as she gently makes you lay down in the water, claiming it's a game, and sits on top of you, the sea water filling your lungs.

You scream and fight, your little strength leaving you, until you're finally breaking through the surface.

Another splash of salty water, much colder, wakes you up with a gasp.

"Up" Price's voice says.

You bite back a whimper of pain when Soap roughly grips your hair and drags you up along with the chair from the floor, since Price kicked you the night before. Soap doesn't look at you even once.

"Since you won't open your mouth, let's continue" the captain hums, looking mildly entertained.

"Price, I genuinely don't know anything. I'm not a traitor. You have to believe me, please—"

Smack.

"Save it. It all points to you, so you either speak now, or we start having fun".

Everything hurts, it's all fuzzy and every single inch of your body is burning, yet you still look up at Price, then at Soap. Again, he won't even look at you.

"Where's Simon?" you mumble, trembling. There's silence, but you don't let it stretch. "Please, I really have nothing to do with any of this. Be reasonable. There's nothing in it for me. Why would I sell us out?!"

The door springs open, and your head snaps up. Your world crumbles down as Simon comes in with a little box.

The tools.

At once, you reach another level of panic.

Pure, unadulterated dread.

"Stop! No. No, please. I'm innocent. Simon. Please, stop this!" you wail loudly, your hands clenching hard on the armrests of the chair, uselessly trying to keep them from getting to your fingers.

It doesn't matter how hard you cry out for them to listen. It doesn't matter how badly you fight, leaning forward to push your head against Simon's chest, pleading with him.

There's no coming back from this.

Please. I love you. Please.

When the first nail is ripped off from your fingertip, the intensity of your screams makes Price look away for the first time.

It takes three fingernails and a handful of questions you can't focus on for Soap to turn away from you.

Five.

Away.

Please.

Eight.

It all feels so far away.

Distantly, you feel warmth, right on the chair. For a happy moment you melt into it, too tired to think much of it. Simon's eye twitches at the sight, the white in his eyes bloodshot, and he has to physically stop himself from saying anything.

"I want to die" you croak out, your chin pressed to your chest.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, in your raw fingertips. Your voice doesn't feel yours anymore.

"No. Give me their names".

"I don't know, goddammit!" you scream, your face contorted with pain and anger. So much anger. "Fuck you! I don't know shit. I'm sick and tired of this. I didn't do anything!"

It doesn't matter when Simon rips off another fingernail.

Nine.

It doesn't matter when Soap presses the same disgusting rag against your face, the cold salty water filling your lungs again.

You don't fight.

What for? They want information you can't provide. And you're angry.

Ten.

"I'm breaking up with you" you say, your voice firm, despite the intense shaking in your body.

The pain must have cleared your mind because you just look straight forward, not meeting Ghost's eyes as you speak.

You don't want to look at him.

"I don't want your regret" you continue, your heart slowing down. There's an old bloody spot on the door. You focus on it. "The three of you are dead to me when this is all over".

"Enough chatting. Go on!" Price snaps. You don't hear the trembling in his voice.

The salty water just keeps on coming.

Maybe you hear it. You don't care.

You're not sure for long it goes. Half of your toes are throbbing by the time Price storms out of the room, Soap and Ghost gathering their things to leave.

There are deep cuts in the arch of your feet, several of your toenails scattered on the floor, and the foul smell of urine and blood. Your throat is sore and raw from screaming, and sobbing.

You must've passed out, because you wake up to Ghost's hands untying you quickly, words of apology leaving his lips, curses and promises. You can hear Soap rushing in, the two of them arguing and then running.

Gasps and curses are heard all around the base as Ghost takes you to the medics, demanding them to tend to you now.

It's an order.

Masterlist | Part 3

buy me a coffee

[blueicequeen19]

Crash Out

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, angry JJ, orgasm denial, edging

“You can’t be here!” You hiss, pushing at his chest and urging him toward the door but JJ doesn’t budge. He’s slick with sweat while panting to catch his breath. That’s when you notice the bat hanging at his side and the sound of sirens drawing closer.

“What did you do?” You demand, eyes hard as you stare back at him. The fire in his eyes seems to morph into something else as he takes in your sleep attire.

“Fair is fair.” JJ rasps, his voice gruff like he’s been yelling.

“What does that mean?”

“They took what’s ours.” JJ’s jaw clenches as he takes a step forward, the bat still in his hand.

“Who did?” You step back as he advances. Your back meets the wall in the hallway and his chest brushes against yours. Your nipples harden against his chest and his eyes are glued down your cami.

“You and your Kooks.” JJ growls, causing you to flinch when he suddenly drops the bat, making it clatter on the hardwood floor.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Your daddy is the mayor. You had to know what they’ve been planning. Another fucking club? Don’t you people have enough? Why do you have to take from us too?” JJ’s hands slam against the wall on either side of you, caging you in as he presses harder against you. He was hard. So hard that you could feel every ridge through his jeans against your stomach.

“JJ—.”

“Turn around.” JJ snarls, not giving you a moment before he spins you around. Your cheek meets the wall, your body buzzing as he presses his erection against your ass. You knew what this was, what he needed. So you pressed back, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea.

“Don’t make this more than it is.” JJ rasps, yanking your sleep shorts and panties down in one go. The cold air hits between your legs, making you shudder against the wall. His warm, callused hands find your ass, caressing the flesh before landing a sharp smack. You gasp, attempting to pull away but he yanks you back, slapping your ass again.

“JJ—.”

“Shut up.” You attempt to turn around but he holds you in place, dipping a hand between your legs and stroking your slit. “I don’t want to see your face.” A thick finger enters you forcing you up on your toes with a loud groan.

“So fucking wet so me. I wonder what your daddy would think.” You open your mouth to argue but he adds another finger, making you lose the ability to think or speak. JJ fingers you hard, the sloppy sound of your wetness echoing in the dark hallway. Just when you’re close, he stops, quickly replacing his fingers with something much thicker.

“JJ..”

“This is for me, not you.” JJ growls in your ear, yanking back on your hair as he sinks in balls deep in one go. You whimper loudly, his cock so deep that it hurt. He shoves your legs farther apart before he starts to fuck you. It’s hard and it’s fast. Your moans echo down the hall as JJ pants in your ear. His cock was so deep and hard that you could feel him wherever while you tried to meet every thrust.

Suddenly, he was pulling out and shoving you onto your hands and knees on the rug. You look back over your shoulder, savoring the way his eyes start to roll back as he enters you again from behind. You notice he’s ditched his jacket and t-shirt at some point, leaving him in just his low hanging jeans. Then he’s quickly shoving your face down against the rug as he starts to move.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out, his movements so rough and hard, the new position even deeper than before. Your knees scrape against the rug and his hands leave a bruising grip on your body. It’s too much. Your hand flies back to push at his thigh for some sort of break but he simply uses the opportunity to pin your arms behind your back. Your nails scrape against his abs, making him hiss as he fucks you harder.

“JJ.. I’m gonna cum.” Your body tightens, legs shaking uncontrollably as you near your peak.

“Don’t you dare.” His punishing pace slows, causing you to cry out in frustration as you claw at his abdonmen and move your hips back against him, desperate for friction. His hands release yours to grip your hips to halt your movements as a mocking laugh leaves him.

“I bet your daddy would lose his mind over his pretty little daughter desperate and wet for Pogue dick.” You angrily move to sit up but he shoves you back down, thrusting in hard, just once. Your body trembles and your pussy pulses, seeking the pleasure he’s denying.

“Fuck me or get out, Pogue.” You bite out, reaching between your legs to stroke your clit. Your walls clench around his dick, making him groan, deep and sexy.

“You’re not in charge, slut. So shut up and take what I give you.” JJ’s strokes turn punishing, so hard and fast that you can’t catch your breath and tears fill your eyes from the intensity of it. You were on the verge of something explosive. The two of you didn’t go beyond sex but something about you craved his darkness and the way he took it out on your body. He never failed to leave you spent in a puddle of your mixed releases before letting the door slam shut behind him.

“JJ—I—I—.” Your words trail off, toes starting to curl as your eyes begin to roll back in your head. But the promise of pleasure is ripped away when he stops abruptly to shove you on your back. You’re too caught off guard to do anything but watch and blink up at him as he strokes his cock almost angrily, grunting with each rough tug until he erupts, painting your chest and part of your face in his cum. Your tongue darts out, tasting what landed on your lips as he releases one last, panty dropping groan and the last drop of cum falls from the swollen tip. JJ’s eyes lock on yours as he tucks himself away and stands, leaving you in a mess on the floor. You sit up, watching him tug his shirt on and wiping the sweat from his brow on the nearby curtains.

“I didn’t know about any of it.” You finally say, feeling his warm cum start to slide down your chest. JJ shakes his head as he throws the back door open without another backwards glance.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Then the door slams shut behind him.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

     not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

     “keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

     “how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence. 

     rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried. 

     had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

     keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

     taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall. 

     the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

     “you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

     his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you. 

     he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim. 

     well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

     something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.  

     you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

     but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything. 

     sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already). 

     meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

     “mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress. 

     “missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

     keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him. 

     “‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

     before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet. 

     him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

     “kei…”

     “shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

     his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul. 

     perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips. 

     it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

     “keigo?”

     “just relax, dove.”

     he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

     bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

     “mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

     it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper. 

     “fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones. 

     your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

     “don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there. 

     “why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

     “don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

     you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat. 

     “nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

     it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open. 

     “k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

     but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him. 

     tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

    ��“k– kei—!”

     “gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

     your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

     “f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard. 

     “nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—” 

     this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

     “k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight. 

     “good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

     “n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

     “then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!? 

     “huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

     “you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

     “i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

      unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

     keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

     and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

return to KINKTOBER | PRO HERO M.LIST

[boowritess]

part 1 hehe

notsobaddasssoldier!reader that is so incredibly under prepared for everything. and the 141 really do forget that you're actually still very green - very new to this life.

especially with things like interrogation.

for once, price is putting you on the sideline BUT you have to interogate the person they have captive for valuable information.

they'll give you whatever things you need in order to pry out any sort of information from the captive. they don't even second guess you asking for a guitar. they get one then they continue on with the mission while you interrogate the person.

their expectation may have been very high. they were betting on all the little fun bloody pain you could potentially do to the captive. seriously,

"knife, they're a knife person" *ghost*

"definitely not. fire. they're definitely using a blowtorch on em as we speak." *soap*

"sod of the both of ya - waterboarding. for sure." *gaz*

"choking." *price shrugs*

obviously, they were excited to come back and see who was right...

it really humbled them to see they were all wrong.

"please make them stop. i'll tell you whatever you want"

*captive yelling that can be barely heard over reader.*

"AHHHHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH AHHHHHHH *strum strum* AHHHHHH-"

*reader who is loudly strumming the guitar out of tune, screaming in the captives' face over and over again.*

the guys don't know if they should be impressed or concerned. they were gone for nearly 5 hours.

5 hours you had been screaming in the captives' face 'playing' the guitar.

later on you get a lesson from ghost about what interrogations are supposed to be like - it ends with you vomiting and price patting your back and gaz holding a bucket to your mouth.

"what did you think was gonna happen when ghost showed ye what to do?" *soap*

"i don't know... go boo?" *scarred reader*

yeah... you're not allowed to do interrogations anymore or be involved in interrogations- you are also most definitely not allowed to talk to captives or guard them because -

"why're you doing this?" *captive*

"honest to god, i ain't got much goin' for me and i had hella stu-"

*reader's mouth suddenly gets covered, gaz looking at you like an idiot*

"hm? what is your little task force plan, huh? go on and blow the place?" *captive*

"well actually no. they plan too-" *your mouth gets covered just in time and you're getting dragged out the room by a very frustrated price*

you very much get ANOTHER lesson about what NOT TO DO when in the same room as a captive - it's pointless though because you're still not ever allowed in the same room alone with a captive.

HAHAHA

i can't stop thinking of reader who is watching a captive be interrogated for information by getting choked and reader just piping up like

"i don't think they can breathe..."

*ghost, long exhale, continues choking captive*

"that's the point, kid" *price*

"oh..."

*they continue choking the captive, waiting for them to crack-*

"if they can't breathe how are they going to talk-?"

"out." *ghost snaps pointing at the door.*

maybe they do give you a second shot at attempting to interrogate the captive. the 'correct' way this time, though. giving you ALL the necessary tools...

and you are ready, you're pumped. you can do it. you're not going to vomit - you're going to do it right.

you grab the pliers and walk towards the captive who is obviously panicked, very much expecting you to do your worse. which you are.

you grab their mouth and force their mouth open, ready to pull their teeth out - sucking a deep breath in as the captive starts to cry and beg.

but then you start to cry and beg.

"please just tell me the information i don't wanna do this"

"you don't have too!" *captive, crying and begging too*

"i do! i'm sorry..."

"no." *captive*

"yes."

"no" *captive starts screaming, making you start screaming as you pull on their tooth both of you staring at eachother and screaming your heads off.*

"I'M SORRY!"

"STOP!" *captive*

"I CAN'T!" *pulls tooth with pliers* "EW EW EW EW-"

you don't even do it right. you're pulling at their tooth with pliers and you're not strong enough so you're awkwardly just tugging the captives head. but the both of you are too busy screaming and begging to notice...

but you actually manage to successfully get the information - you're still not allowed to do interrogations... only being the very last option.

it does mean that you have to go on missions... even if you're useless omg idea?

*gasp* someone claims reader is a traitor - oop?

more parts, perhaps?

a/n: wrote this while trying to work through an anxiety/panic attack !! xx honestly tho these would be my genuine reaction. btw drink water and try sleep cause i can't xx

[pretty-little-mind33]

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Logan has fun punishing you ;)

warnings: hard kink (don't like, don't read!), kinda dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, humiliation, rough sex, degradation, mean!logan, dacryphilia, crying, slight dumbification, spanking, creampie

~ last kinktober!! happy halloween! ~

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You're a sobbing mess, face pressed against the couch cushions, your arm flailing around, clutching onto anything you can hold onto. Logan's back is pressed against yours, warm and hard, as he thrusts into you. He's feral like an animal and you can feel his cock stretch you painfully wide. 

"Lo–lo," you whimper, voice small, "Can't do this anymore," you sob, tasting the saltiness of your tears as your poor pussy is abused. Logan's hands fist your hair, pushing down as he grunts. 

"Can't take it, hm? Yes, you can. You're a slut remember. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you fucking begged for when you were on your knees. Huh, you remember? Licking up my cock, staring up at me with those doe-eyes of yours," he pauses, growling, "What was it you said? You can handle it? Well, handle it then, honey."

You catch your breath, barely able to breathe as he fucks you hard. You're sobbing, unable to focus. Logan grins wolfishly, pulling you up by your hair as he leans in. His lips hit your ear and he whispers hoarsely, "We're gonna play a game now, can you do that for me?"

When you don't answer him he thrusts particularly hard.

"Yes, Logan, yes—" you whine, eyes blurry from your tears. You're staring at the wall now, trying your hardest to be good for him. His laugh in your ear makes you shiver. 

"I want you to count every thrust into your soaked pussy." You can hear his grin, "And if you miss one, I'll go even harder, do you understand me?"

You choke on a cry, not understanding why he's punishing you. You hadn't been that bratty. Logan just seems like he likes this; mocking you and making you squirm for him. He thrusts hard, hitting your cervix and you gasp. 

Apparently, the game had started because he slaps your ass. "One!" you cry, moaning loudly. You're slightly afraid your neighbors might hear you but Logan doesn't seem to care. He continues fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear and you struggle to count all his thrusts. He's so fast. His stamina is intense. 

"Four–ah–five, six, s-seven—"

"Louder. I want everyone to know how much of a slut you are." 

You cry, your body feels weak and you're happy he's holding you up because you couldn't do it yourself. Your mind goes hazy as you try and count. "thirteen, fourteen, ah—fifteen, s-sixteen—Logan—I- I can't," you sob, completely losing track and his thrusts become harder to the point that it's burning. You accept the pain, moaning louder. 

Logan's hand wraps around your jaw, groaning in your ear. "Filthy girl. Can't even listen. What am I gonna do with you? I have to teach you a lesson, huh? One your stupid little brain will understand." 

Your skin burns with embarrassment as tears prickle your eyes. His other hand roughly cups your breast and tortures your nipples. This is humiliating, being so powerless against him. You just cry softly, coming around him, body convulsing. You couldn't hold it anymore.

It just happened.  

Logan smirks. He doesn't care that you didn't ask for permission. After all, it gives him more ammunition. 

"Couldn't control yourself, honey?" 

You shake your head, tears streaming down onto his hand. He wipes his hand around your face, smearing your tears around and messing up your mascara. He chuckles.

"Please—t-too much."

Hearing your words, Logan grunts, spilling himself into your womb. He lets go, watching you fall forward again, and digs his nails into your hips. His thrusts slow, catching his breath and looking down at you. You're a complete mess; tears and snot coating your face as you lay there, completely used. Logan smirks to himself, pulling out and then plugging his cum inside you with his fingers. You whimper, too weak to squirm. 

"Keep it all in. Lose a drop and I'll make this worse for you," Logan says. The threat is empty considering he can see you're done. He's pushed you to your limit and you took it so well. Soothingly, he runs his other hand over your back. Once he's satisfied that you're keeping his cum inside, he walks over and caresses your cheek, truly wiping your tears away this time. 

"Shh," he says, kneeling next to you. You blink, eyes still hazy. He's still naked and he chuckles when you see your eyes wander downwards.

"Want more?" he teases.

You shake your head, whining. Logan laughs and kisses your head. "I know, honey. You're okay. You did so well for me," he says and strokes your hair. You sigh, relaxing in his arms as he praises you. You hum, needing more praise. Logan knows you do and he will happily oblige.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing right next to your lips, smiling into your skin. 

You're always his good girl.

[ghouljams]

I'm fully smitten with Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Call me trite, but I love some good old high school sweethearts. But I also think that getting married that young would definitely raise a few eyebrows.

You know that feeling you get when you see people your age start to do grown up things, like getting engaged or buying a house? I imagine that's what your acquaintances at uni feel like when they find out you're married.

People know that you have someone, because every now and then there will be a mention of "my Simon". So you have A Simon, whatever that means.

Eventually it always comes up in conversation. Someone will ask if you have plans with your boyfriend for the summer, to which you respond "oh, he's not my boyfriend." This revelation causes the person you're speaking with to think they've fully stepped in it. Had the two of you broken up recently? Or were you just in some sort of long-term situationship? Their train of thought gets swiftly interrupted by you going "he's my husband."

While they silently question how the fuck someone in their early twenties has a fucking husband, you happily chat on about your summer plans.

It's not like you planned on getting married young. It's just that your Simon has a terribly dangerous job and a terribly big heart, and he won't leave a man behind. He'd looked so guilty telling you how he'd run into a fire fight to drag a man to safety, apologized, he knew he promised you not to do anything dangerous and-

Well... How could you not marry a man like that?

It does raise some eyebrows though. You try not to advertise your marriage. You don't have a ring, neither you nor Simon had the money for one. You don't have a house, again, money. You don't have kids, though you do think about them often. Really the only thing you have are the stories that you and Simon have made together. Walks in the park that had you pulling him out of the pond. Movie theaters that kicked you out for crying too loudly (and for Simon arguing with the usher). Nights at the pub that ended in great heaving laughter. You're sure you paint a pretty picture of your relationship.

Your Simon. You don't have anything else to call him, he is yours. More than just a husband, he's your best friend, and besides it still feels so strange to say that. ("My God we're like child brides," you'd told him as you were signing the papers. "Worse," he'd joked, "we're military wives.")

You make it through two years of university, and multiple deployments before any of your uni friends find out you're married, and it happens in the worst way.

Your Simon goes missing in action somewhere in Mexico.

You get a call as you're walking out of lecture, and when your friend asks what's wrong (following your complete breakdown into tears in the middle of the sidewalk) you tell them that your husband is MIA. They can't tell you where, why, or how, but they do tell you to prepare for the worst.

Weeks with no news. Barely eating, barely eating, only doing your work because there has to be somewhere for Simon to come home to if they ever find him. Two months pass in a sick haze of lectures and part-time work.

Another call, while you're working this time. You barely apologize to your boss before rushing out, a hastily scribbled hospital name clutched on notebook paper between your fingers. You don't even notice the distance, time barely passes from point A to point B. One moment you're at work, the next you're standing beside a hospital bed.

He looks rough, nose broken, eyes ringed in purple, gauze covering half his chest, leg broken, angry red scars raised on any uncovered skin, but it's your Simon. The brown of his eyes is as soft as it's ever been, and his cracked lips still smile when he sees you. He's alive, and this- this is far from the worst thing you could have prepared for.

And you're so young suddenly, crying like a child at nearly losing your best friend, big wracking sobs that nearly crumple you because your heart is still here with you. It's Simon that lays a big hand on your head and comforts you.

"Told ya I'd come back," He reminds you, "Jus'took a minute."

He doesn't give you any details until he's out of the hospital. Not until you're both cuddled up in the just slightly too small bed that fills your bedroom in your definitely too small flat. The duvet is heavy and Simon still can't rest on his side, but you cuddle close, listening to him walk you through Mexico with a heavy heart. Classified. He keeps repeating it, like that will make it easier for you to digest. The secrecy of it when he tells you about dragging Washington to safety. It makes your stomach squirm. 'He shouldn't have done that' you think guiltily, 'he should've saved himself.'

You don't feel as guilty when Simon meets Washington again and tells you, "'e did somethin' odd, not sittin' right wi' me."

Makes you feel better screaming and shouting when you spot Simon's brother in arms tailing you on campus, when he grabs you and you kick him in the balls just like Simon showed you. The cops find a gun on him, he spews vitriol, spouts manifestos. Brainwashed, they tell Simon.

It's hard to keep a marriage under wraps when the city paper writes a story about you. "Terrorism in Manchester" is front-page news, after all.

[chanelrolls]

cw: pseudocest, (if you're uncomfortable w this, please choose to scroll away.) gets more suggestive as it goes

big brother!caleb is the type of older brother figure who shows his care through actions more than words. he’ll ruffle your hair on the way out, toss you a towel if you’re crying without asking what happened, and stand behind you silently when you’re confronting someone who wronged you.

big brother!caleb insists that he’s “chill,” but he lowkey screens anyone who tries to get close to you. you’re not allowed to know this, but he’s stalked your classmate’s socials before and memorized license plates if someone picks you up. just in case.

big brother!caleb is the kind of guy who lets you win in video games once, only to completely obliterate you in the rematch while saying, “nah, i just gave you a head start earlier.”

big brother!caleb knows how to read moods frighteningly well. if you’re pretending to be okay, he’ll casually bring your favorite snack and plop down beside you, nudging your knee with a, “so, we gonna talk about it or should i just sit here until you do?”

big brother!caleb teases you relentlessly (intentionally going in your room for no particular reason and leaving with the door open, stealing your snacks at midnight, reads your diary, tickles you in your weakest spots, etc.) but never crosses the line. if anyone else tries the same thing, though? they’re getting the scariest smile he can muster. “you think you’re funny? try it again, i dare you.”

big brother!caleb will 100% fight someone on your behalf and then lecture you for putting yourself in danger. “next time, tell me. that’s what older brothers are for, idiot.”

big brother!caleb calls you “shortie,” “squirt,” or “kid” even if you’re the same age or taller. it’s about the vibe, not the height.

big brother!caleb always insists on walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, like it’s not even a big deal. if you point it out, he just shrugs and says, “habit.” but you notice he never forgets to do it, even when he’s distracted or in a rush.

big brother!caleb when you’re out together and someone flirts with you, he becomes suspiciously territorial. arm slung over your shoulder, leaning in too close, “they bothering you, kid?” with a playful grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

big brother!caleb remembers every detail about your preferences. like how you hate soggy fries, that you always tap your pen when you're nervous, and that you like your tea exactly two and a half spoons of honey sweet. he never says anything about it, just... adjusts things quietly.

big brother!caleb sends you playlists with songs he says “just reminded me of you, i guess,” and sends them like it’s not the most thoughtful thing in the world. if you ask why, he deflects, “dunno, lyrics were funny.”

big brother!caleb hates when you cry. not in a “don’t cry” kind of way, but in a visible shift in demeanor kind of way. the teasing vanishes. he sits next to you, gently nudges your leg with his, and murmurs, “you don’t have to talk. just breathe, alright? i’m here.”

big brother!caleb when you fall asleep around him, he watches over you like a guard dog. phone in one hand, hoodie draped over you, eyes sharp. someone could cough too loudly across the room and he’d glare.

big brother!caleb just looks at you a little too long sometimes. like he’s trying to memorize something. and when you ask what, he’ll just smirk and go, “nuthin. just makin’ sure you’re real.”

big brother!caleb always saw you as his little sister, his kid. but one night, you walk out of your room half-asleep, wearing one of his shirts, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy kitten, and something in his chest just… short circuits. he blinks, looks away, jaw clenched, thinking, “get a grip, dude.”

big brother!caleb starts overthinking everything. when you tug on his sleeve to get his attention, when you fall asleep leaning on his shoulder during movie nights, when you call him “calebie” in that teasing, singsong voice, it all messes with his head. he tells himself, “she’s just being annoying again,” but his ears still burn every time.

big brother!caleb becomes weirdly avoidant. a little too quick to leave the room when you're in your pajamas, suddenly “busy” when you ask to cuddle during storms like you always used to. he doesn’t want to be a creep. doesn’t want to ruin what you have. but at the same time, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to hold you longer, tighter, and differently.

big brother!caleb is territorial. again! the worst is when you go out with other guys. he’s not even subtle, already arms crossed and jaw clenched, tossing out lines like, “you trust him?” or “if he touches you wrong, you call me, yeah?” he tells himself it’s protective sibling duty. but when he sees you smiling at someone else the way you used to smile only at him… it burns.

big brother!caleb when you walk out of the bathroom wearing just a towel. he’s sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and looks up just as you mutter, “forgot my clothes.” instant freeze. you’re nonchalant, but caleb's brain blue screens. he stares at the wall, his neck stiff like he’s being held at gunpoint. “y-you tryna get yourself killed or what?” he snaps, tossing a hoodie at you without looking. but his ears? flaming.

big brother!caleb when you catch him watching something… explicit. you walk in unannounced and there’s that split-second delay where he fumbles with the remote, panic in his eyes. “pipsqueak, knock next time!” he barks, face redder than a tomato. you laugh your ass off, but what stays with him is how not embarrassed you were. and for the rest of the day, he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if you were the one making those sounds—

big brother!caleb when you ask him for dating advice. you lean on his bed, kicking your feet, and say, “hey… do you think i’m girlfriend material?” caleb’s jaw tightens. he tries to play it cool, spouting generic guy logic, but his stomach is twisting. when you say you might ask someone out, he blurts, “he’s not good enough.” then pretends he was “just joking.” he wasn’t.

big brother!caleb when you fall asleep in his bed, again. you claim it’s just because your room was cold. but he finds himself lying stiffly beside you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, wondering if you can hear how fast his heart is beating. when you unconsciously cuddle closer and mumble his name in your sleep, he stares at the ceiling thinking, “this is bad. this is so bad.”

big brother!caleb when you tease him with another girl. you nudge him toward a pretty girl at a party, whispering, “she keeps looking at you.” caleb shrugs her off with a weak excuse, but his jaw clenches when you smirk, asking, “what, not your type?” later, when you’re alone, he mutters, “stop doing that.” when you press, he won’t explain, because how is he supposed to say you’re his type without ruining everything?

big brother!caleb is definitely the type to watch you on your sleep, sometimes massaging your hair or even testing his limits by dragging a hand across your thigh.

big brother!caleb goes through talking stages only for the sole purpose of distracting himself from his growing feelings for you. and suspiciously, all of the girls he's talked to looks like you.

[demonic0angel]

Jazz's eye twitched as she tried to hold her decorum. This was her first time meeting all of Jason's family, and she was determined to make a good impression. Even with her certainty that the giant portrait of Martha and Thomas Wayne in the foyer had been replaced.

Jazz reached out and tightly grabbed her brother's elbow.

"Jazz, what do you want?" Danny asked

Jazz pointed at the portrait with her free hand, "Did you..." She didn't need to finish as a toothy grin spread over Danny's face.

"You're the first one to notice." He cackled.

"Does Cass know?"

He scoffed, "Of course. We keep having to renew our bet cuase no one has noticed that the pictures have some changes."

"Pictures?" Jazz repeated.

Jason joined them at that moment, "What about pictures?"

"Look at Thomas' bow tie." Jazz said in a vague answer.

Jason did. His eye squinted as they made out the faint water mark in the shape of Phantom's logo on the bowtie's knot.

Jason burst out laughing. “No way! You messed with all of the portraits in the house?” He and Danny shook hands, grinning like maniacs.

Danny preened. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

Jazz groaned. “What did you do with the old pictures?”

“Put them in the attic. They’re safe and sound, don’t worry. No one has found them yet!”

Jason snorted. “You think Alfred hasn’t already found them and knows about this? Think again.”

Danny waved a hand, “Alfred doesn’t count. He knows everything. He is God and this manor is his domain. I am merely the Devil rearranging the furniture in his house in hopes of the mortals noticing it.”

Jason whistled at the poetry while Jazz sighed again, very loudly before she grabbed her brother by the shoulders and said, “Danny. I’m meeting Jason’s family for the first time. Please be on your best behavior, okay? If they dislike me, I’ll cry.”

“And if you cry, I’m airing the place out,” Jason said with a pleasant smile. “Don’t worry about it, Princess. They will love you.”

Danny nodded, serene. “I’ll help him get rid of the bodies.”

Both of them looked at her innocently and with affection. She almost wanted to throttle them. They were not helping her nerves!

Jazz looked up at the ceiling.

She hadn’t even met Bruce Wayne face to face yet, and her boyfriend was already threatening to kill his entire family with her brother already in his pocket, willing to hide bodies and starting pranks on her future in-laws with the blessings of Cassandra Wayne.

If Alfred was God, then surely, he was enjoying this show with her as the lamb to the slaughter.

She shook her head.

This night was going to be a disaster.

[lindsaynathi0n]

Rafe hates your apartment. He really hates it. The insulation is poorly done, the walls have ears, and it's falling apart.

Tonight, you and Rafe were supposed to have a normal evening. Rafe had returned from one of his top-secret missions that he never talks about. 

You have no idea what he does, but he disappears for months at a time but you're happy when he can call you.

Your father invited you both over for dinner. Rafe wasn't happy about it, but you knew it was important to make your parents happy.

During dinner, Rafe was quiet, not as if it wasn't normal on the contrary Rafe was very quiet. He kept glancing at his watch, clearly impatient. 

Your mother notice and tried to engage him in conversation, asking about his latest trip. "Nothing much to tell," he replied gruffly, cutting off any further questions.

He really didn't want to be here.

Then your father asked the question that made everyone slightly uncomfortable, "And the baby? When are you having one?" 

You looked at Rafe, the situation was quite awkward. "Rafe and I aren't ready yet..." you said, trying to deflect the question.

Rafe wanted a family with you, but being in the military wasn't easy. He was constantly deployed, and the thought of starting a family while he was always away weighed heavily on him.

Your parents exchanged knowing looks, clearly not convinced by your answer. Your mother smiled politely, "Of course, dear. You two are still young." She paused, then added with a wink, "But don't wait too long, okay?"

"Don't wait too long" Those words were the breaking point for Rafe. He had been struggling with the idea of having a family, always pushing it to the back of his mind due to his demanding career. But hearing those words, seeing the expectation in your parents' eyes... something snapped inside him.

As soon as you got back to your cramped apartment, it didn't take much for Rafe to lose control. He grabbed you roughly, tearing off your little white dress with a feral growl. His hands were suddenly everywhere, his mouth crashing against yours in a desperate, almost violent kiss.

Rafe towered over you, his military training evident in every perfectly toned muscle. He was literally a beast— powerful, intense, and completely focused on you. The contrast of his rough hands against your delicate skin sent shivers down your spine.

You struggled to pull down his pants, your trembling hands betraying your desperate need. "Fuck." he growled, helping you by kicking off his boots and ripping down his pants. "Lift your legs." he ordered gruffly, lifting you up against the wall.

You wrap your legs around his waist. "Don't talk to me like I'm one of your soldiers." you snap. He chuckles, grinding his hard length against your wet panties. His big hands squeeze your ass cheeks, pulling you closer. "Sorry, ma'am." he teases, voice dripping with sarcasm, rubbing harder.

Rafe hooks your panties to the side. "Your parents basically told you to go get knocked up." Rafe jokes, his thick length rubbing against your wet opening. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as he spreads your thighs wider apart. “Maybe we should give them what they want.” he says with a smirk, and without warning, he thrusts into you.

It takes Rafe a few seconds to adjust, his cock throbbing intensely within your tight heat. He hasn't been with a woman in months, his body overwhelmed by the sudden intimate contact. “Shiiiiiiiit.” He groans, brows furrowed as he grits his teeth, trying to regain control.

You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely. He's so large, stretching you in ways that can make you come right out. "Rafe!" you cry out, your voice trembling with pleasure and slight discomfort. He's unmoving for a moment, letting you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Rafe groans, his forehead pressing against yours. "I forgot how good it feels." He pulls out slowly, his hands gripping your hips tightly, and then thrusts back in, harder this time.

You look up at him with a vulnerable expression, the pity he loves so much evident in your eyes. He starts his thrusts, fast and a bit too rough, his body taking over as he chases his release. He's not making love to you —he's fucking you like an animal.

He's not being gentle, his fingers digging into your thighs to spread you wider. He knows he's being rough, his body slapping against yours loudly. He sees your small body absorb each thrust without complaint, making him even rougher.

You moan loudly, your neighbors likely hearing everything but you don't care, and neither does Rafe. Some couples are literally trying to get pregnant here!

Rafe's breathing is ragged, his face contorted with primal need. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up to his shoulders, hitting impossibly deeper spots within you.

Rafe's thrusts become more erratic, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper as he leans down, his mouth near your ear. "Imagine if I got you pregnant right now…" he growls, his pace faltering for a moment. "One of these rough fucks knocking you up..."

"Please..." your voice is soft and pleading, your high-pitched moans driving him wild. Before he even realizes it, he bursts inside you, pouring his seed deep. Your small body trembles with pleasure, convulsing around his cock as the orgasm hits you both hard. 

"Look what you do to me," he pants, still pumping slowly as he finishes inside you. "One of these days, your belly's really going to show." His hands move down to your hips possessively, imagining you pregnant with his child. "Such a good girl, taking it all..."

He gently sets you down on your feet, but you're still shaky so you cling to him for support. You look up at him with those big doe eyes and pout. "I want a kiss..." It's so innocent and cute after the rough sex he just had with you.

Rafe chuckles softly at your adorable request, his stern features softening. He cups your face gently, He leans down to press a gorgeous kiss on your lips.

From that moment forward, Rafe's new life goal was to get you pregnant as quickly as possible.