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socially-awkward-skeleton · 1 month

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I'm Your Man

banner by @/cafekitsune

Pairing: John Price x fem!oc (3rd person pov)

Word count: 3.5 K

Warnings/tags: mask and glove kink, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, p in v sex, established relationship

A/N: this skin awoke something in me. Written with only slight description of the oc, but better safe than sorry to not mark it as an x reader fic. Title based on the Leonard Cohen song.

Step by step she moves through the house, checking that each light is switched off, windows are closed and locked, doors too. It's a ritual she's used to now, one that keeps her safe. Secure. Of course she knows if someone did try to break in, some thug in a ski mask, she could easily take care of the fucker. Pressure points, weak spots, faster reflexes – she was no weak link. However, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

In the bedroom, she peels off the restraints that bind her to society. In the safe haven of her home, in its heart, she no longer needs to keep up appearances. Stripping herself down to the woman underneath and not the elegant mask of a lady. The cool sheen of the silk robe she slips on gently grazes over her flesh. A soft rose-petal pink that makes her glow in the warm golden light of the bedside lamps that cast shadows in the room.

There's a serene comfort to this room, one she feels more than in any other in the house. It's the place where she is most firmly protected. The confines of her bed are a kind reprieve from the stressors of the day and the madness of the world outside. The sheets are freshly washed, the comforter is thick and warm, it's an embrace she looks forward to as the moon rises higher in the night sky.

Padding into the en suite to wash off her makeup, truly baring herself before bed, she turns on the faucet. The water runs, the constant stream blocking out the noises of the city streets below. Another step in the process as she massages the cleanser on her face, starting with her cheeks as a froth collects. The splash of water that comes next rejuvenates her tired eyes for a fleeting moment. Each drip down the contours of her face taking with it the remains of the day. Skincare, like everything else in her life, had an order. Something that gave her a sense of control in a world that often proved that was a concept that rarely ever truly existed.

The silence of the house seemed to follow her as she went about her business. A quieting blanket like the hush from fresh fallen snow. Her bedroom left exactly as it was when she returned. The curtains at the balcony doors fluttered. Thin, phantom-like sheers drifting and dancing in the breeze. Shutting the doors, locking the latch, the antique brass chilled from the night air sends a shiver through her starting with her fingertips.

Taking a moment, she gazes at the world outside steeped in silhouette, the lights in the windows mirroring the stars in the sky. She's lost in thought. A hundred plans and expectations spinning through her mind at once. Grocery lists, dinner plans, the odd chores she needs to take care of before she has to go back to work. Her hand drifts through her hair, pushing back the silken strands as she sighs wearily. Even when she's given time off she still finds ways to fill every ounce of her time. It's easier that way, it keeps the memories at bay.

When she turns back around, she doesn't notice the dark shape in the corner of the room at first, there's just enough shadow to obscure and enough on her plate to dull her senses. That is, until she's grabbed, tugged into the imprisoning grip of two strong arms that clamp around her like an iron vice.

Her heart races, she yelps out a choked squeal, her eyes wide like captured prey as she chastises herself for being caught off guard. Until she recognizes the all too familiar scent of smoke, heady and thick. The pungent aroma of tobacco seeping from every fiber of clothing. Whiskers rasp against her cheek leaving a prickling trail before plush lips purr into her ear.

“Did I scare you, love?”

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed by the antics. Her heart rate steadying, flattening out to its usual beat and she relaxes with a huffed laugh. “Bloody prat.”

Elbowing him in the stomach, she finds herself colliding with padding, pockets and straps. Hard ridges and stiff plates. He's in his gear?

The low, rumbling chuckle that graces the tight space between them fans warm breath over her face tinted with a hint of whiskey and she glances upwards. Her brow lifts in surprise and, to be honest, mild bewilderment.

He's not just wearing his gear, tac vest, leather gloves, and all. He's wearing a mask – half his face is covered in black, something near resembling a skull, but not quite. A hood covering his head like he's the bloody grim reaper.

“What the hell’s all this?” A quiet little giggle bubbles out of her at the sight. John’s arms loosen just enough to allow her to turn and face him. “Are you dressed like a comic book villain's henchman for a reason?”

A heavy hand swats the round rump of her making her jump once more as she continues to laugh, dimples carving into her cheeks.

“Bloody cheeky,” he rasps, gripping her arse and squeezing. “For an op,” he adds as if it was perfectly normal for military men to dress like that on any given day.

“And who decided on the outfits?” Her eyes roam over his figure with a playful gleam. “Riley?” she snickers. “Almost happy I'm on another assignment.”

His piercing eyes narrow from behind his mask, a mischievous glint in them she knew all too well. The only parts of his face revealed are his mouth and jaw which quickly stretch into a wry smirk.

“Can't tell me it doesn't do a little somethin’ for ya, darlin’,” he drawls.

She sighs and tuts her tongue, shaking her head. “Not even in my top ten fantasies, love.”

Leaning down towards her, the shade of his hood blanking out the light of the room, his smirk transforms into something damn near wolfish. Cold, blue eyes as hungry as a predator. “Is that right?” His voice, husky and deep, is a taunting whisper that leaves her mouth going dry and a heat beginning to bloom in her core.

“Perhaps you’d like to change my mind,” she murmured softly, breathless with the arousal gathering inside her.

A growl builds in his chest, as thunderous as the ocean in a hurricane. His eyes becoming just as stormy, the grey flecks seeming to flare with his own desires.

“Tha's my good girl.”

She swallows thickly as he stalks towards her, guiding her back to the bed with a hand gripping her hip tightly. His calloused fingers toying with the silk material under his touch, the only barrier between him and his prize, kneading at the flesh below.

“Is the gear staying on too?” she asks with a lift of her brow.

“You bet your arse.”

His smirk damn near makes her melt once more. Her chest rising and falling with short, sharp pants. The flush rising up her skin from her chest to the tips of her ears, floods her with warmth that radiates outwards. Her doe eyes half-lidded as her lips part and she wets them before biting down on the full lower pout.

“D'you have any idea how much I've been wantin’ you, sweetheart? All soft and sweet and laid out f’me. Draped all pretty across the bed. Been thinkin’ about that gorgeous little cunt o'yours all day.”

She moans softly, a quiet whimper slipping past her lips. The little twist in her gut is the only warning before she knows her thighs will be slick with her need.

“Get on the bed, darlin’.” He directs her with another gentle tap to her arse. “Want you nice and comfortable.”

Settling onto the mattress, her head resting against the pillows, she focuses on him. Watching as he climbs up and the bed creaks with his weight, concaving under the strength of his hands and knees. He moves with practiced measure, slow, unbothered. It's clear this effort isn't for him, so much as it is for her. There's no need to rush what's about to come.

His hands slide under the silky garment, climbing up her thighs and increasing the anticipation that flutters in her core, the rough leather leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he spreads her legs wide for him.

“So goddamn gorgeous, you know that? Absolutely perfect,” he purrs, lunging forward as if to pounce but instead meeting her mouth in slow, deep kisses. Encouraging her lips to open with a sweep of his tongue along their seam.

His mustache tickles her lip. The stubble on his chin burns her soft skin each time it rubs against her. It's the stark difference of sensations that leaves her breathless, head spinning as she moans into his mouth. Tongue sliding against his, it curls with each pass. The spice of whiskey and the richness of his cigars spreading over her taste buds and filling her with his essence.

Her hands, so used to roaming over his body in moments like this, grazing over scars, muscles, and freckles, don’t know what to do with themselves met by armor and tactical clothing. She can’t feel him the way she wants to. The cold carbon of the mask pressing against her forehead throwing her for a loop.

“John,” she mewls against his mouth, her hips starting to roll and grind against him. The opening of her robe having split open, her bare cunt rubs over rough material and the hard press of the zipper that strains against his stiffened bulge.

He shushes her, his words a low, throaty whisper as his mouth finds its way to her ear and nibbles on her lobe sending a thrill down her spine, “Lemme take care o’you, darlin’. You know I know best. Just sit there and be your pretty self f’me, love.”

Facial hair pricks her sensitive skin as he scours a trail down the column of her neck, taking the time to suck her salty-sweet flesh and lavish her in open-mouthed kisses leaving red marks from his attention behind. He groans against her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as much as his gear and mask will allow as his hands begin their ascent along her waist.

Deft fingers pull the neckline of her robe open and reveal the swells of her breasts. Her nipples pebbling with the growing heat between them, hardening into stiff buds as leather clad digits pinch and twist at them with just the right amount of friction and force.

Back arching in reaction, whining, growing desperate and needy as he draws out her sweet torture, getting her ready to surrender, she grips at the straps of his vest, holding on for dear life as he begins to dry hump against the wet folds of her mound.

“Christ,” he mumbles, “Love those bloody sounds you make, sweetheart.” His tongue drags against her pulse point before he nips her gently with his teeth, grazing them along her skin to make her shiver.

Slowly working his way down, he nibbles on her collarbone, pressing kisses to the hollow of her throat. The vibrations of the deep purrs that emanate from him travel through her skin right down into the marrow of her bones.

Lost to him, completely his.

He leans down, glancing up at her from under his hood, eyes glinting. Something primal stirs within him as she lays there at his mercy. His hot breath warming her flesh as he calms himself, regains control. His tongue teases her nipple, circling the areola, before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. Alternating between gentle and rougher tugs on her stiffened bud, biting down gently to make her squeal and grip him harder.

The dark chuckle from his lips makes her eyes flutter shut, she'd think he was being cruel and teasing her if she wasn't so sure of what he was building up to.

Undoing the waist tie of her robe, it fell away from her like the petals spreading on a newly sprouted flower, opening her to him. All smooth, soft skin for his eyes to feast upon, dragging over her like he was a starving man as ragged breaths crawled up from his lungs.

“Never gonna get tired of that sight. Bloody perfect.”

She didn't think she could feel any more flushed. However, even with the simple compliment, her ears began to burn and her cheeks grew warm. A bashful grin curling her lips.

“Oh, darlin’. Now if that ain't the prettiest sight.” His grin was downright smug, barrel chest puffed up and proud at the way he could still get her to blush like a schoolgirl.

“Shut up,” she giggled, covering her sheepish face with her arm.

His gleeful smirk, darkened by the mask and hood, revealed pearly whites. The hunger in his eyes is all the more prominent as he settles between her thighs, gloved paws wrapping around them, maintaining their distance, keeping them spread wide as he maneuvers each leg over his shoulders. John licks his lips, pink tongue darting out, tasting her in the air like a serpent.

Breath hitching, she bites her lip, waiting for the inevitable. Time slows to a halt, lingering in that moment like staring down the barrel of a gun.

Sharp eyes snap to her heaving chest and the shuddering breaths that make her breasts lift and fall, staring at the soft peaks with the attention of a sniper waiting for the perfect shot.

And then the moment strikes –

His tongue travels over her inner thigh, his saliva mixing with the glint of her arousal that has spread over the skin. The small offering imparted to him, gifted to stoke the pangs that have burrowed deep inside. He groans once more as he kisses her slick flesh, the bristles of his beard burning her as he tests her folds with his tongue, licking a long stripe through them before pursing his lips together and blowing softly against her mound.

She mewls, gripping the sheets on either side of her, sparks shooting through her nerves. Fire and ice tickling every synapse in her brain.

Flinching, her legs shift as her hips buck and he coils his arms under her thighs, gripping her hips and pulling her back into position. “Stay right there, darlin’,” he orders, a strictness to his command that shoots through her and causes her cunt to clench in response and her body to freeze.

“Tha’s better,” he purrs. “Always such a good girl f’me.” His focus shifts back to the glistening cunt before him and he delves in once more with an unforgiving hold on her thighs, suffocating himself between them. Tongue teasing her clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking, making her grind against his mouth, moaning and whimpering. He growls against her, and once piercing eyes turn glazed, the lids growing heavy with lust as his tongue drifts through her folds. Pulling every little whine and mewl from her that he can as he sinks deeper into his drunken state on the taste of her.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, words slurred and almost incoherent with how far he’s drifted, letting his control fall away before returning to his duty. Her hands reach out, pushing back the hood he wears and burying her fingers into his hair. Nails drag over his scalp, massaging at his crown as she finds herself slipping and falling into the pleasure he delivers her.

The room fills with obscenely wet noises as his mouth works her cunt, his tongue slithering, lips sucking. Building her up to the very edge, and bringing her over it, again and again. A man on a mission, aching to make her as much of a begging, weak mess as he feels burying his face in her delicious core. Stomach fluttering in conjunction with her breathless pants, she writhes under his constant touch. Fisting his short hair and trying to pull him away so she can have just a moment to get a hold of herself. She’s losing the ability to think, to speak. Words won’t form, just nonsensical moans as she stumbles into an ecstatic delirium. Her cunt clenches around nothing, walls fluttering as heat pools in her core and at the base of her spine. Clutching her tighter in response, he’s a dog with a bone and he’ll never let it go. Lost in his own moment of peace. A man whose whole life has been defined by his loyalty to his work, his persistence to defeat every obstacle in his way, and here – in this bedroom, between her thighs – he only has to worry about one thing: giving her every ounce of perfect pleasure he can reward her with.

John ruts against the bed, the friction against his clothed bulge enough to make his eyes roll back in his head as his tongue sinks into the tight entrance of her cunt. This is the only home he needs, doesn’t matter where he is as long as she’s there too. And as she starts screaming, crying out, her voice damn near hoarse with how many times he’s brought her to completion, that coiling knot in his gut makes itself known, tightening like a noose. Their eyes meet, vision hazy, blurred by satisfaction and drunk on the high. The entire lower half of his face is soaked. His beard slick with her juices, mustache glistening in the warm light as he lifts his head and pleads, desperate to relieve the ache in his groin.

“Please, darlin’...” Blue eyes beg her for release. His ragged breaths are the only evidence of the way he’s worked himself up. The sweat, the reddened face, hidden by his mask. “Please,” he mumbles, flicking his tongue against her swollen, pulsing clit. Her puffy cunt is sensitive, overstimulated. Her thighs covered in her arousal, and the bed covers below her are wet with her slick and his spit. As his tongue grazes her, barely touching the skin, she gasps and moans once more, too weak to make a louder noise. She nods her head, catching her breath, her chest straining to collect enough air as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly, his throbbing cock springing free, drooling with precum.

It’s a sight that always brings her back up to the heights of desire. Even when her mind is a foggy mess she can still recall just how good it feels when he stretches open her velvet walls. While his tongue can work wonders, and his fingers know exactly where to stroke, it’s his cock that she dreams about when they’re apart: the way it fills her with each demanding thrust, the heavy drag of it.

She collects his chin in her hand and pulls him up towards her. The smirk on his face is intoxicating, his dimples driving her crazy as she cradles his jaw and kisses him, tasting herself on his lips.

“You’re bloody amazing, love,” he rumbles against her mouth, his hand curling under her, holding her tight to him as she wraps her legs around his waist.

His cock slips into her easily, she’s so wet there’s barely any resistance at all. Grunting with each pistoning of his hips, John has to close his eyes as he presses his forehead to hers. He’s so close already, it’s easy to tell with each stuttered drive into her depths. There’s no rhythm – as much as he tries – the heavy gear he’s wearing is a burden, slowing him down, adding to his work load. It doesn’t take long however, before he can’t hold out and his eyes squeeze shut, his body tensing.

“It’s okay, love,” she moans softly, her voice a breathy whisper as she strokes her thumb through the drenched bristles of his facial hair.

He groans, panting heavily, and he can’t stop himself as his come escapes him in hot ropes. His thrusts grow shallower, riding out his orgasm before slipping out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids behind, collapsing beside her on the bed.

“Fucking hell,” he drawls, pulling off the mask he was wearing and putting it on the bedside table. Puffing out heavy breaths as he rubs a hand down his sweat-drenched face. “That was… something else,” she breathes. Rolling over, she curls up beside him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping an arm over his stomach. “What in the hell gave you the idea to do all that,” she asks, gazing up at him with her large doe-eyed stare, as pretty and sweet as can be.

“You know how I feel about you, sweetheart.” He nuzzled against the top of her head, brushing his nose through her hair as his big hand cupped the back of her head, fingers carding through the soft strands. “I’d do anythin’ for you.”

#call of duty #cod fanfic #cod smut #john price #captain john price #cod modern warfare #john price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #ship: you are the sword to my shield #skelly writes

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httplilyyy · 1 year

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𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐊 | 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: it all comes down to this

warnings: descriptions of violence, gore, blood (lots of it), knives, guns, swearing, scream vi spoilers, bad writing as i wrote this with a broken hand so i apologise if there is any mistakes

word count: 3.2k

a/n: due to the original chapter nearing 8000 words, and due to your feedback, i’ve decided to split this into two parts, so after this there is only one more to go. i also wasn't planning on writing an epilogue, but if it's something you want, i’ll write one :)

scream masterlist | prev. part | next part

006. goo goo muck - the cramps

‘you better duck, when i show up.’

“Are you sure calling Sidney was a good idea?” Tara questioned, watching as you rounded the counter to stand behind it.

“Well, I didn't tell her to come here. I just informed her about what was happening.” You shrugged, picking up some old milk duds and shaking the box.

“But what if she does come here?” Tara wondered, leaning against the counter, her fingers drawing shapes in the dust.

“She won't.” You said, turning to face Tara. “She needs to keep her kids safe.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Tara said, not fully believing you.

“What, you don’t think I can handle myself?” You said, tilting your head to the side, a small smirk making its way onto your face.

“I mean, you have been stabbed twice...” Tara trailed off, a smile of her own forming.

“Okay, smartass.” You chuckled, moving back round the counter to stand in front of Tara, her eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m only stating the truth.” Tara replied, a small laugh bubbling from her stomach.

“Oh really?” You hummed, walking closer to her causing Tara to take a step backwards till she felt her back hit the counter.

You placed your hands on either side of her waist, pulling her close to you so your chests were touching. You leaned your head down, your lips hovered over hers, unsure, a million thoughts running around in your mind.

“I thought you were waiting for the perfect moment to kiss me.” Tara teased, her lips almost touching yours.

“Who gives a shit about what I said.” You whispered, your grip tightening on her waist.

You leaned down, just a little more, closing the gap between the two of you. Tara’s eyes fluttered shut as your lips grazed hers, melting into the kiss. Her lips were soft against yours and when she pulled away, you found yourself leaning forwards, chasing after her for more.

“You’re eager.” Tara muttered, moving her hands up to your chest.

“Can you blame me?” You smiled, resting a hand up to cup her cheek.

She stared at you, her lips quirking into a small smile. When you leaned in again to kiss her, Tara felt her body erupt with butterflies.

You poured in every pent up emotion into the kiss, and she gave you everything and more back. Your brain short-circuited as her hands went around your shoulders, playing with your hair.

After a few seconds, you slowly pulled away, your noses touching as you looked into Tara’s eye’s deeply.

“I could kiss you forever.” You whispered, your foreheads resting against each other.

“So do it.” Tara replied, leaning back in.

Just as your lips were about to touch, Tara let out a loud yell. You pulled away with wide eyes, seeing a Ghostface behind her, pushing a knife into her shoulder.

“Shit, Tara!” You shouted when the masked killer pushed Tara into the counter causing her to fall to the ground.

You looked at the Ghostface with a new found anger bubbling up inside of you. They charged towards you, swiping their knife haphazardly, hoping to hit you.

Dodging another attack, you stepped back before punching the Ghostface in the jaw, sending them falling to the ground. You ran over to Tara, helping her up from the floor with a supportive hand around her waist.

The two of you rushed towards a door when Sam and Chad came bursting through, startling you both.

“Come on!” Sam yelled, eyeing the Ghostface on the ground, helping you pull Tara out of the room.

Chad closed the door behind you, running back into the main theatre. The four of you stopped, looking around trying to find a way out.

“It’s Kirby,” Sam spoke up, “she’s the killer.”

“No shit!” Chad yelled, going to run out of the theatre.

“That’s locked!”

“Fuck!” He exclaimed before running back to you, Tara and Sam.

“She made this whole theatre a kill box for us.” Sam said, disbelief in her voice.

“Hey, how about that? There's an exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something” Tara said, pointing up, causing everyone to follow her finger.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You shrugged, looking back at Tara.

You each ran towards a ladder, but you spotted the Ghostface running towards you out of the corner of your eye. You pulled Tara behind you as the Ghostface jumped off the stage, landing in front of you.

The Ghostface swiped their knife at Sam, the woman dodging the attack. Chad tackled the masked killer to the ground, quickly getting up, grabbing a camera from a table and swung it at their face.

“Smile for the camera, mother fucker!” Chad knocked the Ghostface down and followed as You, Sam and Tara ran onto the stage to find another way out.

“Over there!” You pointed out, seeing a hallway.

Sam nodded, taking the lead as you all ran through the hallway, the Ghostface hot on your tail. Tara yelled when she bumped into the wall, trying to run as fast as she could.

Chad threw the camera he was still holding back at the Ghostface, slowing them down slightly. You had done a full circle and you were back in the room you and Tara were in together.

You waited for Chad to run past you, pushing a popcorn machine over to stop the Ghostface. Standing face to face you waited for the Ghostface to make the first move.

They tried to stab you with their knife but you dodged it, stepping back as you calculated their next move. Sam and Tara took a hold of the Ghostface’s arms, pulling them away from you.

Chad ran forward and punched the masked killer, sending them to the ground once again. Tara kicked them in their face, making sure they wouldn't get up.

“Tara, come on.” You pleaded, taking a hold of her hand and pulling her away.

You walked back to Sam when Chad picked up a small bubblegum machine, stalking over to the Ghostface, going to throw the machine down.

When Chad went to throw the machine another Ghostface came up behind him and stabbed him in the back. Chad let out a scream causing everyone’s heads to snap towards him.

Tara gasped, going to help him, but you held her back by the waist. The Ghostface on the floor got up and started to stab Chad in the stomach too, the boy telling you three to go.

“No!” Tara shouted, fighting against your grip.

You watched as the two Ghostface’s pushed Chad’s body to the ground. The two killers stood beside each other, swiping their knives at the same time, getting rid of Chad’s blood.

“Go!” You said, handing Tara over to Sam as you pushed the sisters towards the door.

“No, y/n!” Tara screamed, watching helplessly as she was pulled back by her sister.

You gave the younger Carpenter one last look before you closed the door and faced both the Ghostfaces.

“Hello, fellas.” You said, waving your hand.

They looked at each other before looking back at you. One of them walked back, exiting the room as another stalked towards you.

You held your ground, watching as they got closer and closer but they walked past you, exiting through the same door Sam and Tara exited only a few moments ago.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself.

Sam and Tara tried to get away, heading onto the stage when a Ghostface appeared, jumping down, pointing their knife towards the sisters.

The two turned around to go the other way but the other Ghostface blocked them, moving their knife from side to side as a way of saying ‘no’, the two killers blocking them from going anywhere.

Sam took a hold of two bricks, handing one to Tara and keeping the other to herself. They stood, watching as the Ghostface’s made their way closer to them, the sisters tightening their grip on the bricks.

“Sam.” Tara sobbed, looking around frantically.

“Ready?” Sam asked Tara but she didn’t get a response. Sam turned around to face her sister, taking a hold of her shoulder gently. “I need you to be ready. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” Tara nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before turning around to look at a Ghostface with her sister doing the same thing.

The two sisters took deep breaths in, calming their nerves before putting on their game faces.

“Come on, mother fucker!” Tara shouted.

As the Ghostface’s were about to attack them a gunshot rang out in the theatre causing them to scatter away. Tara and Sam ducked, covering their heads.

The two thought they were alone when they heard footsteps coming from the stage. Kirby appeared looking rugged as she held her gun in her hand.

“It’s okay!” Kirby reassured, walking down the steps to Sam and Tara.

“Stay the fuck back!” Sam warned, pulling Tara behind her.

“We know it’s you, Kirby.” Tara said, taking a step forward.

Kirby shook her head as she limped forward, pointing to the stage as she tried to not let the tears fall.

“One of them knocked me out.”

“Kirby, stop!” A voice shouted, causing Sam and Tara to turn around to see Bailey, his gun raised at Kirby. “Get away from them.”

“What are you doing?” Kirby asked the man, pointing her own gun at him.

“Did you kill Quinn? Did you kill my daughter?”

“Jesus Christ! Whatever he has been saying to you, don’t listen to him. He’s probably the killer!” Kirby muttered before pointing her gun behind him, seeing the Ghostfaces reappear. “Behind you!”

Bailey didn’t look all that surprised and he pulled the trigger, shooting Kirby in the stomach. Sam and Tara watched as she fell to the floor, their mouths dropped open in shock.

Bailey smirked, the two Ghostfaces coming to a halt behind him.

“Great job, both of you.”

“You?!” Tara gasped, looking at the man.

“Eh, of course me.” Bailey replied, tilting his head as he looked at the two sisters. “Frankly, I expected more from the two of you after what you did to us!”

“What do you mean ‘us’?” Tara asked, confusion written on her features.

The taller Ghostface took a hold of their mask, pulling it over their head, revealing themself.

“Mindy was right.” Ethan laughed, a manic smile on his face. “It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad! Fuck, it felt good to kill him!”

Ethan held up his mask beside him, tapping his knife against it as he looked at Sam.

“This was your grandmother’s Sam, Nancy Loomis. It really runs in the fucking family, doesn’t it? Speaking of family…”

“Wait for it.” Bailey smirked, bouncing on his feet.

“My name’s not Ethan Landry!” He laughed, looking over at the man beside him. “Isn’t it, dad?”

“Dad?” Tara questioned.

“Wait, if it’s you two, then that just leaves… Mindy?” Sam wondered, looking at the second Ghostface.

They grabbed their mask, slowly pulling it off to reveal themself.

“Hey, roomies.” Quinn smirked. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

“Yeah because you died!” Tara exclaimed.

“I kinda didn’t.” Quinn shrugged. “Though it was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stabbed Gale Weathers, and y/n, and stabbed Mindy on the train. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah. I just made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with the fresh one. A little fake blood and prosthetics, you’d be amazed at what a grieving father could get away with…”

Sam and Tara looked at the Man with shock and hatred but their gaze soon turned onto something moving behind the three.

“Oh and one more thing.”

Another Ghostface came out from the shadows and stood behind him. The two sisters soon realised who that person could be.

“Y/n.” Tara whispered out, heart breaking as she looked at you.

“What?” Bailey questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Boo!” You said, from behind them. Quinn, Ethan and Bailey jumped out of their skins, turning around to face you.

You swung a knife at Quinn, slicing her arm causing her to real back in pain. You kicked Bailey in the chest and he fell to the ground, not getting up as he looked at you in shock.

Ethan threw a punch towards your cheek but you took a hold of his arm, twisting it till you heard a loud pop, the boy letting out a scream of agony before kicking him to the floor too.

Your chest heaved up and down, when you took off the Ghostface mask. You looked up at Sam and Tara and when you were about to walk towards them you heard a laugh along with slow claps coming from behind you.

“Well, well, well. Look at my baby sister following in my footsteps.”

“Wha- what are you-? But-” You stuttered, turning around to find the source of the voice.

“You’re all grown up.” They said, finally coming out of the shadows to reveal themself.

“Jill.” You gulped, watching as she walked closer to you.

Everyone else stopped to look at you. Tara and Sam held expressions of confusion and sadness whilst Ethan, Quinn and Bailey had looks of mischief and glee.

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What the fuck?!” You finally managed to spit out, backing up from the woman only to come in contact with Ethan’s chest, the boy holding you still as Jill continued to walk towards you.

“Surprise, y/n.” Ethan whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on you.

“What a lovely family reunion.” Bailey chuckled as he got up from off the floor, making his way over to you.

“Get away from them!” Tara shouted, trying to get to you but Sam held her back.

“How?” You questioned, looking at Jill. “Sidney shot you. She killed you!”

“I guess I'm in the clear.” Jill shrugged, stepping closer so she was only a few millimetres away.

“Mhm, great.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on, y/n. That’s no way to greet your sister after a decade.” Jill said, pouting as she lifted a hand to touch your shoulder.

“You are not my sister.” You said, hardening your grip on the knife in your hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jill shook her head, her gaze tilting to the knife.

“Do what?” You asked, faking innocence, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened.

“I think you forgot who I am.” Jill said, her hand shooting out to your forearm. “You’re not going to get away this time.”

Jill pulled you from Ethan’s hold, tugging you so your back was against her front. She took the knife from your hand and held it against your throat.

“One sudden movement and I slit your throat.” Jill whispered in your ear, pressing the knife harder against your neck, not enough to draw blood but enough to halt your breathing.

“Now I wonder why Sidney was the favourite.” You muttered sarcastically.

“Watch your mouth.” Jill said harshly, nicking your neck as a warning.

“Where were we?” Bailey asked rhetorically. “Oh yes…”

“I got Stu Macher’s mask.” Quinn said as she moved around the theatre and over to the mannequins. “He was my favourite.”

Ethan placed the mask he had been wearing on a mannequin. “That’s number three.” Bailey explained, holding up three fingers as he slowly made his way towards Sam and Tara, sparing a glance at Quinn who placed her mask down as well. “That’s two.”

“Which leaves your fathers.” Bailey said, pulling out Billy’s mask from his bullet proof vest. “This is what we’ve been counting down to, Sam. I'm gonna need you to put it on.”

Bailey held out the mask to Sam, slowly making his way towards her.

“Fuck you!” Sam exclaimed, slapping the mask out of his hands.

Ethan leaned over and swiped his knife at Sam’s arm, creating a large gash where blood immediately poured out.

“Ooh.” Ethan taunted as he heard his dad laugh at his action.

“You stay the fuck away from her!” Tara sneered, placing a protective arm around her sister.

“What- what is this?” Sam questioned, looking back to Bailey. “You did this as a family?”

“Oh yeah, bitch. You should know better than anyone.” Quinn responded angrily, walking closer to the two girls, standing next to her brother.

“They’re still not getting it.” Ethan chuckled.

“Look, I don't know what you believe. But I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro, it wasn’t me.”

“Oh we know that.” Bailey scoffed. “Of course you didn’t, what d’you think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on, who do you think started the rumours about you in the first place?”

“You know how easy it was to turn Sam, from the hero of Woodsboro, into the villain.” Quinn said, raising her knife. “How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people, rather than the best.”

“Because it’s not enough to just kill someone these days.” Ethan spoke up, going into further detail. “You have to assassinate their character first, so when dad here discovers your horribly mutilated bodies, posed with Sam wearing her fathers mask. He'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you’re the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands.”

“Exactly, that’s why it’s a perfect alibi and all the best lies are based on the truth.” Bailey said, pointing at Sam. “You’re the killer, just like your father.”

“No I'm not!” Sam shouted, her voice breaking with anger.

“Yes you are, you mother fucker!” Quinn yelled, anger pouring out of her. “You killed our brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said your brother died in a car accident.” Tara pointed out.

“No, no, no you sweet dumb thing.” Ethan said lowly. “He died in woodsboro, in the hands of your bitch sister.”

“You're Richie's family.” You said, as it all finally clicked inside your head.

“Well done.” Jill chuckled, moving the knife up from your neck to trace the side of your face. “I always thought I had the brains in the family.”

“I’m not nine anymore, Jill.” You scoffed, moving your head away from the knife.

“What did I say, hmm? Shut. Your. Mouth.” Jill tutted, adding a little pressure to the knife, cutting along the side of your face.

You let out a toe curling scream, the pain being unbearable but Jill just laughed, enjoying the way you squirmed in her arms.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Jill said condescendingly, “did I hurt you?”

You didn’t respond, gritting your teeth as you created a fist with your hands, trying to push through the pain.

“I asked you a question!” Jill snapped, creating another cut through your eyebrow.

“Stop!” Tara shouted, watching as you shook in Jill’s arms, tears welling up in your eyes, immediately feeling as if you were nine again.

“What was that?” Jill questioned, tapping the knife to the back of her ear, acting as if she couldn’t hear. “Keep going? Well, if you say so.”

“She said stop.” Someone said but it wasn't from anyone you could see.

Jill turned her head around, her grip on you faltering as she saw who the voice came from. You stumbled out of Jill’s arms and looked in the same direction as her.

“Sid.” You said breathlessly, looking at the woman in shock.

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itsuki-minamy · 1 year

Text

"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 9: NEKO'S DREAM (Part 4)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Seems more like foul play, Seri-chan."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get the job done."

Awashima knelt down and touched the staff member's body. She quickly found the PDA on his chest and tossed it at Kusanagi. Kusanagi activated it, used a connector hacking tool to breach the security, and started viewing the data on it.

When he searched the history, he found what he was looking for in one go.

"There is a list of participants in the party. If we take this..."

"We will be able to identify influential people who have been touched by "Jungle"."

Once again, Awashima's gaze returned to the sharpness of a bird of prey. Who is leading the various acts of sabotage that "Scepter 4" is currently suffering in public and the plans to introduce "Jungle" into ministries and agencies? In the end, they are probably just Hisui Nagare's limbs, but if they are raised, their movements will slow down. The disqualification of "Scepter 4" may be stopped.

Seeing Awashima look at the PDA, Kusanagi shrugged and laughed.

"Hey, let's go. If we stay too long..."

At that moment, he heard someone's voice under his feet.

"D4, answer me. The retinal response disappeared. What happened?"

Awashima and Kusanagi saw it at the same time. Communication voices leak from the mask of the lying down staff member. The retina response means that the skin has the function of notifying the user when something goes wrong.

"Come on."

"Yes."

He turned quickly on his heel and opened the door. Almost at the same time, a loud voice echoed from the end of the hall.

"They are there!"

Three clan members with mechanical masks. It is not a number that he cannot win in a direct fight, but it is troublesome to draw a pistol. With a click of his tongue, Kusanagi turned and ran. Awashima did the same.

"I don't care, shoot!"

Along with the incredible words, gunshots and live bullets were fired. Kusanagi lowered his head and rounded the corner, turning around and cursing.

"Are they crazy?! There are some VIPs though!"

"Even if you delete one or two, you should be able to get rid of them…just leave them there!"

"I understand!"

The elevator was about to reach the end of the hall. He pressed the button as if to slam it shut, look back. Almost at the same time the doorbell rang and the elevator doors opened.

From inside, a burly man wearing a mask stretched out his arms.

"Kyaa?!"

"Seri-chan!"

With his log-shaped arm choking Awashima's throat, the giant man drew a gun with his other hand and fired at Kusanagi. A bullet grazed Kusanagi's hair, but he jumped undeterred, daring to jump into the narrow elevator shaft.

"No!"

The big man raised an annoyed voice and his muzzle twitched. He pulled the trigger two and three times, but Kusanagi bounced inside the box with a masira-like movement, preventing him from aiming. Using the springs in his body, he jumped near the floor display panel and delivered a strong kick to the big man's head.

"Uh...!"

The giant staggered, but perhaps it was because of the protective mechanism of the mask, or because of the resistance of his physique, that he stopped in a moment. A hail of bullets rained down on Kusanagi, who was crawling in a crouch. Kusanagi dodged it with a breakdancing move and raised her voice.

"Seri-chan!"

"Eh!"

Awashima wriggled free of the kick-loosened restraint and jabbed her elbow into the pit of the giant man's stomach. Awashima grabbed his arm, which had gone limp in pain, and twisted with all her might. By the principle of leverage, the giant man's body leaned forward, Awashima's palm sank into his neck, and Kusanagi's kick that slipped on the ground swept across his foot almost at the same time.

Kusanagi let out a huge sigh after delivering the final blow to the face and crotch of the giant man who had fallen on his back.

"Don't throw him at me in such a small space. If he bounces, he'll hit you."

"There's no way this kind of idiot would think of such a thing, right?"

Saying to spit it out, Awashima reached for the gun, pulled out the magazine, and fired the last shot remaining in the chamber at his feet. With the quickness of a soldier, Kusanagi whistled. At that moment, the elevator reached the underground parking lot. While he was wary of an ambush, he immediately jumped.

The underground car park, where many luxury cars were parked, was not popular. Awashima warned him as they ran.

"The exit is closed."

"Let's do it. But with this...!"

Kusanagi quickly searched for the stolen PDA. In a hotel where "Jungle" is alive, the security system should be able to work through an electronic network. Sure enough, security-related applications were quickly found. Continuing the operation, the blind at the rear of the parking lot was finally opened and light from the electric light came in.

"Ugh, looks like we managed to escape."

It was then that he took a deep breath and felt relieved.

A green flash appeared, brushing against Kusanagi's hand.

"Kusanagi-kun!"

Awashima let out a surprised voice. Kusanagi couldn't even do that and stared at his empty hand. The valuable evidence that could identify the collaborators stolen from the "Jungle" PDA was pierced by the thrown knife, destroyed without a trace, and fell to the ground.

"Damn...!"

With a bitter groan, Kusanagi turned his hostile gaze into the darkness at the rear of the parking lot.

"Emergency mission accomplished! You get 3000 "Jungle" points!"

An electronic voice sounded like a reward for completing a game that doesn't fit the scene. A flash of green lightning pierced the darkness, revealing someone standing there.

Awashima took a deep breath.

"Who is...?!"

In contrast to the annoying Awashima, the person only had a mechanical, expressionless expression. He pulled out two knives from his chest and wrapped them in green supernatural powers. That glow, this time clearly, began to illuminate the man's face.

"Rank up! Saruhiko Fushimi has been promoted to J-Rank of "Jungle". Congratulations!"

"Fushimi!"

The moment he called out his name, Fushimi threw a glowing green knife at him. Kusanagi stepped forward and crushed the knife with the flames from his lighter.

He wasn't allowed to say the many "whys" that were going through his head. Kusanagi said in a suppressed voice, the red eldritch wrapped around his lighter arm.

"Fushimi. I will listen to your story at the hospital."

The next moment, Kusanagi created multiple fireballs. A direct hit would inevitably cause severe burns, but he unleashed it at Fushimi without hesitation. Fushimi looked at him with an expressionless face.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the ground behind him.

The person emerged from the ground and grabbed Fushimi's shoulder. Fushimi was sucked into the ground as if he was repeating the moment when he appeared upside down. The fireball went through an empty space, hit the rear wall of the parking lot and exploded.

Kusanagi clicked his tongue and muttered.

"Green clan member...!"

"Fushimi! Why, Fushimi?!"

Awashima's agitation was no match for Kusanagi's. With grief more than anger, she called out the name of her former subordinate who had already disappeared. Her feelings were too difficult to guess. Because he showed her his betrayal in the cruelest way possible.

That's why Kusanagi couldn't afford to be carried away by his emotions. He put his hand on the shoulder of Awashima who was standing up and urged her on.

"Seri-chan, that's all for today."

Awashima bit her lip, but nodded clearly. From somewhere far away, the roar of the enemy guards approached them. Kusanagi and Awashima fled from the voice and headed towards the exit of the parking lot.

++++++++++

"Congratulations!"

An unexpectedly bright voice greeted Fushimi as he entered the room.

Hotel Milenio, VIP room. Sitting on a long couch in the center of a room so large it could be mistaken for a hallway, the man slowly clapped his hands. The easy smile that floated on his lips seemed welcoming and ridiculous at the same time, at least to Fushimi's eyes.

The CEO of "Jungle" Corporation, Mishakuji Yukari. Until just a month ago, this man was his adversary. Mishakuji knows this too.

Even so, he calmly pointed to the couch opposite.

"Please make yourself comfortable. Saruhiko-chan. You have the right to."

Fushimi obeyed his words and pursed his lips in a bow.

Mishakuji reached out and took the champagne from the wine cellar. He poured the two glasses of wine onto Fushimi's side and then poured. Raising his glass slightly, Mishakuji winked at him.

"To the birth of a new classifier. And to your free soul. Let's make a little toast."

"Freedom?"

Fushimi didn't even reach for the glass. He doesn't know what's in it and drunkenness slows his judgment.

Mishakuji didn't seem to mind that, and he calmly raised the wineglass to his lips and tilted it.

"Isn't that so? Izumo Kusanagi and Seri Awashima, whom you defeated, were your acquaintances. The reason why you can throw knives in front of your former comrades without hesitation is because you are free."

"In short, are you saying that I am a traitor?"

"It's up to you how you take it. But I don't mean to disrespect you. I mean it, I don't hate it. The determination of people to do what they want without being bound by rules or ethics is beautiful."

Mishakuji narrowed his eyes and stared at Fushimi. Like to see through his thoughts.

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply in response.

"I don't care about your assessment. Instead, would you let me meet the "Green King" quickly?"

Mishakuji raised the champagne to his mouth again and chuckled.

"Oh, you're pretty impatient, aren't you? You've become the classified you've always wanted, so why don't you soak in the glow a little more?"

"It's not my wish and it's not like I'm immersed in the afterglow. I just did what I could."

"That's not cute. If Sukuna-chan heard that, he'd be mad."

As he said that, Mishakuji put down his glass and got up from the couch. With slow steps, he walked towards the cabinet placed in the corner of the room. When he touched the elegant wooden door with his palm, a scanning light swept up and down, and an electronic voice resounded.

"J-Rank confirmed, Mishakuji Yukari. I'll open the door."

The cabinet was lifted without a sound and opened to the left and right. Beyond is a stout freight elevator. Mishakuji entered and called out to Fushimi.

Fushimi sighed and got up.

"Is it a spy movie or something?"

At that irony, Mishakuji smiled brightly.

"Because it's our "secret base". Without that trick, it would be boring."

Fushimi entered the elevator and looked inside. There were no floor numbers or buttons like in a normal elevator, just a palm-shaped interface on the side of the door. As Mishakuji put his hand on it, the door closed and the elevator began to move silently.

From the acceleration applied to his body, he knew that he was descending at considerable speed. After several tens of seconds, the elevator slowly came to a stop, and the doors opened to the left and right.

The place he entered was a dimly lit corridor. A motion sensor was activated, the lights came on, and a blind appeared, blocking the way.

While Mishakuji was in front of him, a scanning light was directed at his face. Retina authentication. After that, the shutter began to open vertically.

He did not know that such an underground passage existed in the middle of the city. The locks are tight and it's pretty deep.

Behind the shutter was a vast underground space. Stone pillars that look like temples stand side by side, and the light falling from far above illuminates the two in front of them in white. As he walked by, Mishakuji chatted casually.

"It is a secret passageway to our hideout. There are more than 100 exits in Tokyo alone. In the main subways and underground floors of skyscrapers. It is one of the most important secrets that no one knows except the top of our "Jungle"."

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. As a member of "Scepter 4", he knows better than anyone how important current information is. By exhaustively searching the main subway stations and skyscrapers with underground floors, and discovering them from the entrances leading to their hideouts, it is possible to invade the "Jungle" headquarters, which has been hidden until now.

"Is it okay for you to tell me that?"

"Of course. You're already a classified. A companion who shares secrets with us."

Or, Fushimi thought. Maybe they think it's okay to be located. Will they believe "Scepter 4" is lost and no longer has the power to defeat "Jungle" head on?

As if he ignored Fushimi's thoughts, Mishakuji continued with a light tone.

"This time it was a great achievement, Saruhiko-chan. Against "Homura" and "Scepter 4", the number 2 of both clans, fighting alone. Fufu, you should have called for reinforcements, don't exaggerate."

"I don't like cooperative play or anything like that."

"You're lying."

Saying that lightly, Mishakuji looked at Fushimi. The color of his smile and his purple eyes, which had a bit of a piercing light, stared at Fushimi.

"You personally recruited U-Rank Hirasaka Douhan, monopolized the "Jungle" points for two people, and thought of achieving a quick rank rise. You cheating child."

Fushimi didn't bother even though he was caught off guard. That's because he expected the title to have been fulfilled. Faithless whispers.

"It was possible in the system, but couldn't it be done?"

"No way. It's selfish and wonderful. Besides, my Nagare-chan doesn't care about fouls."

Fushimi's eyebrows twitched at the name.

"The "Green King" Hisui Nagare."

"Our King I think likes people who think like that."

The words rang in Fushimi's ears as if they had various meanings.

Fushimi doesn't know anything about Hisui Nagare. But still he knew very well what he was thinking.

Did Saruhiko Fushimi really betray "Scepter 4"?

If so, "Jungle" deliberately invited internal disease. The information that Fushimi, who became a J-Rank, can obtain at his base of operations is immensely important. If that information can be brought to "Scepter 4", the situation can be reversed.

If Fushimi were in Hisui Nagare's position, he would be the first to be suspicious. He would not be promoted to J-Rank. Even if he made a mistake, he couldn't invite it to his base.

But Hisui Nagare does.

Fushimi doesn't like that. Because he makes him feel like a monkey dancing in the palm of Hisui Nagare's hand.

He sometimes he feels that he is swimming.

But the really important things only exist in the tiger's den.

"Come here."

Mishakuji stopped in front of a huge wall.

A thick old door was attached, resembling a shelter, which blocks the underground space. Facing that door, Mishakuji calmly spread his arms.

"Welcome, Saruhiko Fushimi. The "secret base" of "Jungle" welcomes you."

It was unlocked. The door opened slowly with a heavy sound.

Once he set foot there, there will be no going back. Will he fulfill his purpose or leave as a corpse? One of two. He had been prepared for that for a long time, so he did not hesitate to take the plunge.

Still, the moment he stepped forward, the face of a man flashed across his mind.

(Will he get here?)

He may not come. Anyway, he's crazy. He is an idiot who shoots 0 points in a row. It's possible that he doesn't understand what he was saying and it's all over while he's going back and forth.

However, there are times when he gets 100 points.

Fushimi's lips twitched slightly, but when he took the next step, he was gone. With a bored expression on his face, he advanced into the darkness of the tiger's den.

++++++++++

The glass fell to the floor and shattered with a screeching sound.

But Yata didn't notice that. The fist that hit the counter table trembled. His blood seemed to drain and he squeezed his voice through the cracks in his teeth.

"What the hell is he thinking?!"

Kamamoto and Anna looked at Yata as if holding their breath. Kusanagi, standing behind the counter, called out to him in a low voice.

"Calm down, Yata."

However, those words did not reach the current Yata. Yata yelled his anger at that man, Saruhiko Fushimi, who is somewhere.

"You betrayed us, and this time you betrayed even the blue ones, so what are you going to do? What the hell is going on beyond that?"

There is no response to the words that he spits out with passion. Nobody should have known. What Fushimi is thinking and what he is trying to do, the answer can only be found in Fushimi.

He is a traitor.

Those words came to mind and Yata carelessly scratched the mark on his chest.

++++++++++

It's been a long time since she finished her report.

Every time the second hand ticks, a drop of anxiety runs through Awashima's heart. Beyond the office desk, Munakata's expression seemed to be the same as always, but Awashima wasn't sure if that was really the case. After being defeated in the "Battle of Mihashira Tower", something in Munakata decisively changed. That fact has turned into a stagnation of anxiety, and there is always pain within Awashima.

"I see."

Suddenly, Munakata opened his mouth.

"With this, Fushimi Saruhiko's secession became decisive. It's like having your dog bite your hand."

There was also no change in tone from him. Quiet and young, everything is in the palm of his hand, and his eyes say that even if someone like Fushimi leaves him, it will have no effect.

(Is it really so?)

Awashima lowered her head to suppress the voice that seemed to come from within.

"Sorry. It's my responsibility to supervise."

Munakata narrowed his eyes as if he was considering whether he was listening to the apology or not.

"Anyway, we have to fill the void he left as soon as possible. To reinforce the front line, we will transfer several personnel to the Special Forces. 2 people from the Mobile Division general platoon, 3 people from the Information Division and 1 person from the Reference Room of the General Affairs Division."

General affairs section.

She thought she heard it wrong. General affairs departments are often staffed with non-combat fit personnel. There are no adequate personnel for the most elite "Special Forces Corps" in battle.

No. It's also different.

Awashima knows that there is only one suitable person.

"Excuse me."

At that voice, Awashima trembled and turned around.

With a slimy movement, the demon entered the office.

"You...!"

Like flowing water, demons never stop moving. With very natural steps, he advanced to the center of the room.

At that moment, the demon exploded.

Awashima's eyes could not capture the moment when the stillness turned to action, just as the murmur turned into a torrent in an instant. Within a few meters of a single step, the saber running from Zenjo's waist was perfectly positioned on Munakata's neck, beyond the office desk.

"......"

Awashima not only acts as the vice commander of "Scepter 4". Her swordsmanship is the best of the Special Forces and she has never been behind most of the members.

Even she, far from stopping Zenjo's outrage, couldn't even react. It was the demon who had his hand on the hilt of his saber.

Munakata did not lose his composure. A white blade approached the nape of his neck, literally a piece of skin. From there she saw something fall.

It was a mistake. It was cut in half and twitching nervously.

With one arm, he swung the long sword around and Zenjo returned it to his sheath.

"I'm sorry."

"Amazing."

Now that he had picked a fly out of his clothes, it seems that was it. Thinking of that, Awashima cleared her throat.

"Gouki Zenjo, the "Zenjo Demon" who killed the predecessor "Blue King" Habari Jin. From now on, I will have you behind me."

The "King Killer" would be behind.

Awashima understood exactly what that meant.

When Weismann's deviation from the "King" reaches a critical point, the "Sword of Damocles" that was looming over his head falls, bringing ruin to the land. However, if the "King's" life disappears before it drops completely, that is not the case. Yes, if someone can kill the "King" before that happens...

Just like Zenjo did with Habari Jin.

Just like Munakata did with Suoh Mikoto.

Placing that sword behind his back meant that he had his own destruction in sight. To drop his own head before the sword above his head falls. As a sword for that purpose, Munakata chose Zenjo.

Awashima bit her lip and lifted trembling fingers from her saber.

Various emotions swirled and she couldn't contain a single shock.

And she, smart, knew it. That tremor, that fluctuation, was the main reason why she was not chosen.

++++++++++

Pan-pan-pan, a somewhat silly sound resounded.

Ribbons and confetti fluttered and piled above Fushimi's head as he stood in the doorway. Fushimi didn't even pay, he just stood under the board that said "Welcome Fushimi-kun" with an inorganic expression on his face.

"Hey, nice to meet you Saruhiko-kun! Welcome!"

"Thank you for coming, Saruhiko. Welcome."

"Kwah! Welcome!"

Iwafune, Nagare, and Kotosaka greeted him. Even so, Fushimi did not lose his iron expression and answered in a low voice.

"...Thank you."

His line of sight moved slowly, scanning the room.

It was a room like a cheap apartment. The kitchen is full of soot and a rickety fridge has a note telling you when it's your turn to take out the trash. If you look all over Japan, there are probably tens of thousands of one-room apartments with six mats that you can find anywhere.

No one would believe that this is the home of the "Jungle" Green Clan.

But Fushimi knows it's true. This show, which seemed like a practical joke, would be "like" if you know "Jungle" well. The one in the middle, a man in a wheelchair, has that hobby.

The "Green King" Hisui Nagare.

He was younger than he had imagined and more disturbing than he had thought. Even now, he looked at Fushimi with a mysterious smile.

"Okay, let's not just stand up talking. First of all, sit down."

The cheerful middle-aged man is Iwafune Tenkei. His other name is Otori Seigo, the "Grey King". It was the trump card of the Green Clan that won the last battle of Mihashira Tower.

The trump card put a plate of sushi on the table with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"This lazy Iwa-san went all the way to town and bought it. Real sushi! Not one of those food stalls. Look, what would you like? Tuna? Sea urchin? Salmon roe or shrimp?"

Despite the familiar welcome, Fushimi insisted on not placing orders.

"Okay, eggs."

"Heh, are you a boy?"

The only one who whispered was Sukuna Gojou, a boy who had his back to Fushimi. Sukuna's disgusted attitude from the moment Fushimi entered was, on the contrary, easy to understand and comfortable for Fushimi.

Iwafune rebuked Sukuna.

"Hey, you're the kid, aren't you? Oh, yes, there's more than just sushi! Eat chicken! Fried chicken!"

"Eat chicken! Eat chicken!"

"Don't say that, you silly bird!"

Sukuna punched Kotosaka, who spread his wings and made a racket. Seeing that, Iwafune frowned in embarrassment.

"What's up, Sukuna? You've been acting weird for a while now. Are you shy? Huh?"

Sukuna snorted and turned around. Iwafune looked at Fushimi and shrugged slightly.

There, Nagare intervened.

"Saruhiko, you've risen five ranks in just one month. This speed surpasses Sukuna's previous speed. It's really amazing. It's a new record."

Immediately, Sukuna's disgust turned visibly darker. Fushimi observed the situation emotionlessly.

"Nagare... let's talk about that another time."

"Eh, why do you say that, Iwa-san? I'm confused."

"Why? Sukuna, it's okay, so put yourself in a good mood. The beginning of a relationship is important and a smile is essential. You can't do well if you keep getting angry like this. Isn't that right, Saruhiko-kun?"

Through his observations up to this point, images of each person and their relationships have emerged, albeit vaguely.

Hisui Nagare, despite all the brilliance of him, seems to have a simple childishness. It seems that the blunt way of saying that something is awesome honestly doesn't fit with the intricately twisted conspiracy of "Jungle". Or maybe that distortion is the reason why he is called the "Green King".

Sukuna, on the other hand, was unmistakably just a child. His desire to be recognized by Hisui Nagare is transparent. That's probably why he's hostile towards Fushimi. Fushimi can be seen as a rival that threatens his position.

On the other hand, Iwafune is an adult. It must be said that he is suitable for his age, he is trying to mediate in the place of the pure and somewhat unsympathetic Nagare. Including his ability, he can be the base of this "secret base".

While he was thinking about those things, Fushimi responded with a single answer.

"No, it's fine. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, really?"

Iwafune relaxed and sat down on the couch. He raised a beer and made a toast.

"Ok, if you want to act cool, that's fine by me."

"I didn't come here to make friends."

"Then why are you here?"

Mishakuji Yukari, who had been silent until then, whispered.

He could feel the air in the room warm for a moment. Fushimi Saruhiko. Former number 3 of "Scepter 4". Why did a man who used to be his enemy get promoted to Ranker? Even if he didn't put it into words, everyone including Fushimi was probably thinking about it.

Fushimi said it nonchalantly.

"No reason. It's a game, right? I'm just trying to see what happens when I push my score to the limit and if I see something new. I don't think a "sushi party" is the goal, right?"

Nagare narrowed her eyes and answered that question.

"Of course. Our plan starts here."

"Ready, go ahead!"

"I have high hopes for your work. Saruhiko Fushimi, Rank-J, the elite of our "Jungle"."

Everyone present looked at Fushimi.

Expectations, irritations, doubts, curiosity, and various other emotions, Fushimi took for granted. From the moment he took off his blue clothes, he was prepared to be seen with those eyes. Deserter. Traitor. There is no point in trying to remove the labels that have been placed on him. If so, he would make the most of it.

That's why Fushimi smiled fearlessly and said calmly.

"Please, just tell me what to do. I'll show you how to complete any mission. It's much easier than interpersonal relationships."

#k #k project #reisi munakata #scepter 4 #seri awashima #zenjo gouki #k rok #homra #izumo kusanagi #yata misaki #kushina anna #kamamoto rikyo #fushimi saruhiko #jungle #iwafune tenkei #kotosaka #mishakuji yukari #nagare hisui #sukuna gojo

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forlornlemonade · 1 year

Text

Reposting an audio script by request, since Pastebin is giving me a headache. If you're not into smutty audio, just ignore this post. Kay? Kay.

Also, if you record this, can you lemme know? My reddit handle is forlornmelody

[M4F] Jason Todd comes home after a long night--too tired to fuck, but he still wants to give you a good time. [gentle dom][fandom][fingering] [mutual masturbation] [guided masturbation] [superhero] [playful]

--- Description ---

You've been waiting all night for your vigilante boyfriend to come home from work. When he finally shows up dinner's gone cold, but you haven't. Jason Todd, otherwise known as the Red Hood, is back from his stakeout-turned-fightout. He's okay, but he's too tired to fuck you properly. So improperly will have to do.

--- Authors Notes ---

You had this date all planned with your favorite lady, but the stakeout went south, and you had to take out the baddie a night early. You're exhausted when you come in the door, and you expect your girl to be sleeping already. She's not. In fact, her skin's flushed and the room smells like sex. Maybe you're not too tired to get her off, after all. Despite your edgy reputation, you're surprisingly gentle in bed. You love to tease, but most of all, you love hearing her say your name as she comes undone.

This script is just a guideline, I want you to make it your own and do what feels natural. Jason's always been a rule breaker, anyway.

--- Script ---

(Door opening, heavy footsteps. Door shuts, lock turned, and keys dropped on a table.)

(sigh heavily) (helmet/mask clunking on the table. followed by unbuckling/unstrapping and the clunk of holstered guns on the table)

(surprised) Oh. Hey. Didn't think you'd still be awake.

(deep breath)

Mm. You've been busy. (lick lips) You wearing that for me? Aww, darlin'. You shouldn't have.

(rustling, jacket dropped to the floor)

Now? Nng. Sorry, babe. It's been a long night. Those assholes couldn't wait, you know? I had to take them out.

(gulp)

Well, maybe we can fool around a little. Yeah? You like that idea?

I'll just sit here next to you, (flop onto the bed) Mm. Maybe you could show me what you've been up to?

Aww, darlin'. Don't be shy. (whisper) Why don't you touch your face, and pretend it's me, touching you?

There you go--just the tops of your knuckles, run them from the bottom of your jaw to the tip of your chin. Feels nice, doesn't it?

Patience, babe. We'll get you there. But we're gonna take our time. Cause you're worth every second.

(kiss) Mm, what was that? Oh, you know I can't help myself when you blush like that. Go ahead, keep going.

Trace your fingers down your throat and across your collarbone. Cup your breasts for me. Man, I love the shape of them. They're perfect, you know that? Why don't you rub them for me? Just the way you like? Pretend it's my rough fingers playing with them.

Remember when we first met? (kiss) Mm. I do. It was pouring rain outside of Noonan's, and you looked a little lost. (laughs) Yeah, that asshole. Too bad for him you moved on, yeah? Hey (snort) I didn't say you could stop touching yourself. Thatagirl. Yeah. I remember the thugs, too. How could I forget? When you broke that guy's nose after he demanded your wallet? (chuckle) I knew then was something special about you. How we took them down together. God, you're so sexy when you fight.

But you're even sexier right now. Mmhm. I see your thighs spreading as you feel my breath on your ear. So relaxed. So vulnerable. That means the world to me, you know? That you trust me like this? (kiss)

Mm, I think we've given those girls enough attention, yeah? Let's have you run your hands down your stomach to the insides of your thighs. (playful) Hey! I said your thighs, not your pussy. Patience, darlin'. We're almost there. Graze your skin with your fingernails. Yeah. That's it. Up and down, like when I touch you with my calloused fingers. Well, yeah, I could touch you, but I'm having too much fun watching you.

(still playful, gentle) Promise me you'll behave? You'll only touch yourself when and how I ask? (licks lips) Alright. (whisper) I trust you.

Go ahead and run the tip of your finger down the edge of your slit, lightly. We don't want you to come too fast, do we? Perfect. Just small, gentle circles (contented sigh) I love you like this, coiled like a spring. Mm? Yeah, you can touch your clit now, GENTLE. Let's do some nice, wide arcs, maybe tease that hole of yours. No! Not all the way in, just a little.

(some moaning) Fuck. Maybe I'm not as tired as I thought. You don't mind if I touch myself, too, do you? (belt buckle, sliding belt through loops, tossing it loudly on the floor) Good. I promise I'll make it up to you later. Hey (laugh) No cheating. (whisper) You don't get to come before I do. That's the deal. (zipper)

Yeah. You can finger yourself, baby. Mm. Fuck, I can hear how wet you are. So slick, so warm around your finger.

(improvised sexy noises throughout)

Just imagine it's my finger sliding in and out, beckoning you to come like I'm calling you from across the room. Shh. Not yet. (ragged breathing) almost there. Don't forget your clit. Just slide your thumb there and--

You close, darlin'? Y-yeah. Me too. I love you so much.

(improv to orgasm.)

(satisfied sigh) You're amazing. Mm? You want to come with me next time? Didn't we--? Oh! You meant on the job. Mm. Yeah. I wouldn't mind that. If you kick ass on the streets like you do in the sheets? (chuckle) Gotham won't see it coming.

#lemon #sounds of pleasure #audio script

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c-ones-adults-only-club · 2 years

Text

Chapter 8- Forced Employment

Summary: Ola is brought before the throne of Mandalore. Plans begin to take shape…

TW:Discussion of slavery, threat, some violence.

Link to chapter 7

Ola was uneasy.

A tight coil knotted in her gut, twisting her stomach and sending her heart racing with each level the elevator climbed. Where was she being taken? What was going to happen to her when she got there? What could they possibly want with her?

Terrible thoughts and images swarmed her mind, each one more horrific than the last.

What if they were going to sell her into slavery? What if they were going to keep her as a slave? What if they were going to keep her locked up somewhere, where they could use her?

The image of the flame-eyed, crimson-skinned Zabrak suddenly and unexpectedly flashed behind her eyes.

What if they were going to give her to him?

Her fingers grazed her throat, the still-remembered feeling of that icy phantom vice strangling her, along with the cold touch of his weapon to her chin, haunting her still.

How easily he could have killed her. How easily he could have caused her pain. He could have torn her apart, and she would have been powerless to stop it.

He still could.

She swallowed as the elevator lurched to a stop, the doors hissing open. A hard nudge to her back prompted her forward, almost causing her to tumble on her suddenly jelly-like legs. She didn’t bother to glare at him, knowing it would make no difference to her situation, and simply allowed him to herd her through the complex.

It was oddly quiet.

Not deserted, not quite, but almost silent.

“Where is everyone?” she asked automatically.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Keep moving.” She flinched slightly at his clipped tone, having not realised she’d spoken loud enough for him to hear.

She did, however, notice that he was slightly less tense than he had been in the prison. Why? What had happened back there?

Ola didn’t get the chance to ask as she was shoved towards the exit of the building. She gasped as she was pushed out into the pale sunlight, throwing her hands over her eyes, momentarily blinded. The vicious shove from behind made her stumble, her legs giving way underneath her and sending her to her knees upon the stone surface. The hand that gripped her arm was harsh, unforgiving in its tightness. He hauled her to her feet and pushed her forwards.

Towards a waiting ship.

Her steps faltered as a sudden chilling fear gripped her. Once she boarded that ship, there would be no escape.

Once she boarded that ship, her fate, whatever it would be, was sealed.

Her guard pressed her forward, the cold of the blaster at her back reminding her of one unavoidable truth.

She didn’t have a choice.

……………….

The cell was empty, and from the warm scent and the dull, fading presence in the Force, it had been vacated recently.

Very recently.

He wasn’t certain why, but Savage felt a small amount of disappointment.

“Hmm, it would appear that Vizsla has found some use for the little waitress after all. A pity. I was in the mood for some further amusement. Ah well, no matter. Come Apprentice, let us not waste anymore time.” Savage sighed deeply, turning away from the cell to follow his brother.

Something caught the dim light, a dull glint of gold catching his attention. He frowned, inquisitive, bending to pick up the golden item.

And chuckled to himself.

It was the plastoid mask, crumpled beyond recognition by the Force.

He ran a claw-like nail along a fold in the plastoid, following behind his brother. He could almost feel her imprint, could almost see her gently stroking her fingers along this very groove.

And then, with a blink of his eyes, the dull image was gone.

Hmm, odd.

He looked down at the bit of plastoid, intrigued by the brief little vision.

He didn’t often receive visions from the Force. Most times, he had fleeting feelings. Snippets of images that were there and gone. Swift impressions, not solid enough to keep hold of or pay attention to.

This felt ever so slightly different. The quick little snapshot came with a fleeting feeling of certainty. One he couldn’t shake, even as they entered the lift (that carried a warm scent, fading but not gone) leading up to the surface.

They were going to see her again.

………….

The flight was nothing more than a short hop from the moon to the planet below, but for her, it felt like an eternity. Ola watched from her seat behind the Death Watch soldier as the gleaming, pale planet loomed before them, menacing and threatening in its beauty. She felt the shiver of terrified apprehension trickle down her spine, leaving her shivering and cold.

The small ship rocked as it breached the atmosphere, before being carefully angled towards a large palatial building.

The sense of dread that had settled over her swelled and grew like the tide as the ship drew closer to the landing pad.

Her heart thumped a rapid tattoo, each breath coming in a harsh rasp. She twiddled and played with her fingers, the seemingly ever present knot in her belly winding ever tighter. She felt on edge, tense, ready to flee. She shivered and shook, every hair raised on end. She felt ready to beg and plead with him to release her, but knew that it would be a futile effort.

Ola gulped back the sob that threatened to escape her as he brought the ship into land.

No. No more crying. If she was to meet her fate, then she would do so with all the dignity afforded her by her proud Naboo heritage.

Now, as she was manhandled out of the craft and herded through the great palace doors, guarded on either side by two Mandalorians in the now familiar grey and blue Death Watch armour, she just needed to believe it herself.

…………..

Vizsla grinned as he stood in front of the throne, gazing up at the seat of ultimate power on Mandalore.

The throne that rightfully belonged to him.

At long last, at very long last, a Vizsla would once again sit upon this very seat, who would once again lead the people back to victory and glory and honour.

And with the Darksaber at his side, no one could doubt him. No one could challenge his word.

He turned to the assemblage of Death Watch and the Palatial Guards. With a flourished flick of his cape, he sat upon the throne.

The thrill that shot through him was electrifying. This was his birthright. This was how it should be. This was the way.

“How does it feel, Lord Vizsla?” His grin widened, turning to his second in command.

“Words cannot describe, my dear.” Her smirk matched his. He saw a glimmer flash through her eyes, noted the way her back straightened and her head lifted.

Pride looked good on Bo-Katan Kryze.

She was a formidable warrior, one of his best. He trusted her with his life, and he knew that she did him. He could never ask for a more loyal second.

Even when she was calling him out on his… less than well-conceived plans. Especially then.

She would make a fine ruler, if something were to happen to him.

He watched the gathering soldiers as they filtered into the throne room, his ego swelling with every salute and bow he received. Yes, he could certainly get used to this.

He looked on as one of the soldiers approached the dais, pressing his fist to his cuirass and bowing.

“My Lord.”

“Yes. What is it?” The soldier straightened fully, tall and proud before the throne. As was befitting a Mandalorian Warrior.

“I am informed that your guest has arrived.” A grin split Vizsla’s face.

“Ah, excellent. Bring her in.” The soldier bowed again, stepping back from the steps before turning to the doors. He signalled to the guards, who turned and pulled open the large ornate slabs of wood.

The Death Watch guard entered, herding the prisoner over the threshold. She was filthy from her stay in the cell. Her once clean, pale dress was crumpled and marred, stained in patches with dark grey dust. Her hair hung from its up do in rat’s tails, mussed and knotted and matted in places. Grey smudges crossed her cheeks and her forehead in streaks, clearly from where she had wiped them with her hands and fingers.

But he didn’t notice all of this. No, all Vizsla saw were her eyes.

They still burned with a deep seated fire, which only grew in intensity when they alighted upon him.

Ah, good. It seemed that she still held that fiery spirit, terrified as she was.

She’d set her face into a proud scowl, though the illusion was shattered by the frightened twitch of her lips and the nervous fiddling of her skirt between her fingers.

To his right, Vizsla saw the way Bo shifted, eyes turned to the pathetic form of the waitress and posture ramrod straight. Her lips twisted into something akin to displeasure, eyes flashing with discontent. She looked the prisoner up and down, sneering at the lowly figure. He could read her thoughts as if they were his own: This female has no place in a Mandalorian court. He smirked, turning his attention back to his newest acquisition.

“Ah, good to see you again, my dear. I trust you have had a pleasant stay?” Snickers rippled around the room, an unpleasant smirk gracing Bo-Katan’s face. The waitress frowned, dropping her skirt and folding her arms. She glared directly at him, eyes flashing with ill-humour.

“I’ve had better stays in hovels.” He hummed, standing from the throne and stepping down towards her. Ola caught sight of a familiar cylindrical weapon by his side, her chin tingling with its remembered kiss to her skin.

Why did Vizsla have it? The image of stark red and black, of burning eyes and fearsome horns briefly flashed across her mind.

Had something happened to the Zabrak? Had Vizsla murdered him and stolen his weapon? Why did that scare her more than the Zabrak’s menacing presence?

She was pulled from her pondering as the guard stepped back, allowing Vizsla the freedom to circle her. She twitched as he closed in on her, everything screaming the need to escape. She flinched as he traced a finger up her arm and across her bare shoulder, her skin itching in its wake, and twisted a lock of hair around his fingers. Her body trembled with tension, clearly wanting nothing more than to bat his hand away and run.

“Yes, well, you’ll not be staying in a cell any longer, my sweet. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be locked away. You should be seen out in the open, with me.” She whipped her head away as he stroked a finger down her cheek.

“I’d rather be back in the cell!” Vizsla laughed softly, turning to look at his Second. Her scowl had dropped, her expression minutely impressed, and definitely amused.

“Why be imprisoned in a dark cell, when you can be serving the Mand’alor? You can be free to roam around the palace, surrounded by all that Mandalore has to offer.” She stared him in the eye, challenging yet pleading.

“Would I be allowed to leave, if I so chose?” Her voice was tinged with the slightest glow of hope. Vizsla sighed deeply, as if the news he was about to impart deeply wounded him.

“No. You would not.” The fire in her eyes dulled for a moment, before they hardened once again.

“Then I am still imprisoned. You take me from one cell and force me into another.” Vizsla hummed, circling around her again, performing for his audience.

“But you have the freedom to walk through the palace. You will go where I go. You will do as I order. Whenever I order it. And… how ever I order it.” She shook her head, disgusted by his insinuation.

“No matter how you dress it up, a prison is still a prison. I am still your prisoner. And I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot prod!” Vizsla smirked, enjoying the venom in her voice.

“Then you know that you have no choice. You will serve the throne of Mandalore, and you will do as you are commanded.” His hand shot out and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You are now mine.”

Ola bit back on the angry sob of despair that sorely wanted to escape. She blinked back the stinging tears of hopelessness, fought against the tremors that wanted to rack her body. She had known his intentions the moment she’d seen his roving eyes. She heard the snickering surrounding her, saw the leering grins on some of the faces of his soldiers who currently stood unmasked.

“Get her cleaned up,” she heard him say distantly, though the rushing of blood in her ears made it difficult for her to hear anything else. She felt cold, ice gripping her gut and pumping through her veins. She felt sick, her stomach dropping to her feet. She felt faint with the realisation that this was real, and not a nightmare she would wake up from. A strong hand gripped her arm, yanking her around and dragging her through the door.

Little did she know that more upheaval was yet to come…

………………..

The ship broke through the atmosphere and descended gracefully, settling with gentle precision upon the grounds just beyond the palace walls. The gang plank extended with an almost silent hiss as the entry hatch opened, allowing two forms to make their egress.

Like two predators prowling the plains, they slinked past guards and entered the building. Any that got in their way were silently and effectively slaughtered before they could raise the alarm.

The further they went in, the more perplexed Savage became.

“Brother? Where are we going? I thought we were facing Vizsla?”

“All in due time, Apprentice. If we are to usurp Vizsla and take the throne, we will need a cover. We cannot rule openly, Savage. Not unless we want the Jedi to know we are here. Among other parties…” Savage grunted in understanding, following Maul as they descended down towards the vaults and holding cells below the palace.

“If I am correct, then the now dethroned Duchess has previously imprisoned those who opposed her rule here. We may find a suitable candidate among them.”

The doors to the vaults loomed tall above them, as if to intimidate the two Sith. But that was a fruitless endeavour. With a thrust of his hand, Savage swung the doors open, startling the two guards standing by them. Before they could raise the alarm, their throats were crushed by an unseen power. They gagged and clawed at their throats, feet kicking a morbid dance in mid air.

A twist and squeeze of two large hands, and a sickening crack-pop filled the silence. Savage threw the now limp bodies aside, not sparing them a second glance as both he and Maul passed their twisted, crumpled forms. They made their way inwards, any opposition dealt with quickly and efficiently. There was no time for the enjoyment of battle here.

They passed cell after cell, barren and clinical, cold in their emptiness. Perhaps there were no prisoners in here after all? Perhaps this was all a fruitless effort on their part? But still his brother pressed on. And, even as frustrated as he was becoming, Savage trusted Maul.

The flash of golden hair and dark clothing caught his eye, bringing him to a halt at the same time as Maul.

"Well, well. Greetings, My Lady. You are the former Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, are you not?" He was insulting in his politeness, an artform Savage couldn't match. The woman snarled at him, pale eyes icy and cold.

Savage keenly felt the amusement bleeding from Maul, and fought back his own vicious grin.

"What do you want, Monster?"

"Hm, nothing yet. But I will have a use for you in time." She slumped, an air of defeat surrounding her. Savage turned away in disgust. No fire in her. No fight. Not like her…

A warning flash was sent through the tenuous bond he shared with Maul. He grumbled an apology, turning away from the cell and focussing instead on any opposition that might come their way, leaving Maul to converse with the female. He dug his hand into the small pouch on his belt, fingers ghosting over the crumpled, cool plastoid he’d picked up. Once again, he followed the creases with clawed fingers, turning his eyes down to the golden mess of a mask. Out of boredom , he told himself, twisting it this way and that, enthralled as the lights of the cell dully glinted off the odd angles.

Maul watched his brother from the corner of his eye, noting the glint of gold in his hand. He recognised it as the ruined mask he’d torn from her face. Fear and fire, green eyes glinting in annoyance, in anger, passions raised. Her name rolling off his tongue. Ola…

He blinked the image away, refocusing on the moment. Now was not the time to be distracted. He turned his attention back to the imprisoned Duchess.

“Where are the other leaders?” She scoffed at him.

“You would know better than I. There are only two of us remaining. Myself and Almec. But he is as devious and corrupt as you!” There was no mistaking the venom that laced her voice, or the quiver that trembled through it. The hopelessness that had settled in her very being was cloying and potent. It amused him to no end.

“Really? Thank you for being so cooperative.” He smirked as her face twisted into one of confusion and the devastating realisation that she had possibly just sealed her own fate.

“Come along Apprentice, you can play with your toy later.” Savage replaced the lump of plastoid back into his pouch with a growled grumble. He felt the keen amusement and curiosity that emanated from the Sith, but decided to say nothing.

It didn’t take long for them to find the man in question, and shorter still for Maul to strike a deal. Savage looked upon the male with dislike and disgust, underwhelmed by him and his countenance. Pale, old, easily swayed. Hardly worth their time, as far as he was concerned. But, this was his brother’s forte, striking deals and setting plans in motion.

Oh Savage could plan, of course he could. They all could. But, the fine minutiae were where Maul excelled.

But now, the planning was finally complete. Now, with everything set in place, it was time for action.

He grinned with a savage glee as they made their way up to the palace, his blood craving a fight….

………………….

Ola stood under the warm running water, arms wrapped around herself and eyeing the door warily. She desperately wanted to enjoy the sensation of heat and cleanliness, after however long covered in grime and filth. She wanted to look down and watch as grey and black murk faded to clear. She sorely wanted to be back home in her pokey little apartment, standing under her own shower until the water ran cold, just because she could.

But she couldn’t allow herself to drop her barriers. She couldn’t allow herself to look away for even a moment, out of fear of what might happen if she did.

The guard had, thus far, remained on the other side and hadn’t even so much as peeked, never mind tried anything.

Perhaps these guys did have some honour after all.

Her eyes felt heavy from the tears she’d cried under the cover of water. She felt drained, hopeless. She felt like her world was collapsing in, imploding around her and she was powerless to stop it.

Oh how she wished she’d never accepted that job! How she wished that she’d never left home in the first place!

She should have remained where she was, after the battle of Naboo. She should have just let go of her daydreams and her desires for adventure. She could be a full fledged librarian now, serving the new Queen in the royal palace!

But no, she just had to have aspirations. She just had to let her daydreaming go wild. She just had to follow her heart instead of her head! Now, she had been enslaved to a foreign throne, on a planet she knew nothing about, to a ruler who clearly had desires of his own.

‘If this is an adventure, I’ve had enough of it!’ She thought to herself. ‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t what I wanted!’ She sniffled as more draining tears began to fall, mixing with the water and swirling down the drain.

A sudden hammering on the ‘fresher door drew her from her thoughts.

“Hurry up in there, or I’m dragging you out!” came the shout from the other side. Ola drew a shaky sigh, turning off the water and stepping out into the now steam-filled, windowless room. She didn’t dare risk pushing her guard’s patience. She wrapped herself in the rough towel, carefully drying herself off. She looked at the rumpled lump of ruined pale material with a long-suffering sigh.

She never liked it anyway, cheap and tacky as it was.

She turned her attention instead to the pile of black material sitting on the bench. With now dry hands, she lifted the top part up, flicking it open.

It was clearly an undershirt.

She held it against her slightly damp body. She’d never hoped that something would be too big on her. Another hammering on the door broke her inspection.

“Ok! Ok!” With one last sigh, she let the towel drop to the floor.

She pulled on her own bralette (no way was she going without!) and then struggled to pull the top half of the suit over her head.

And then groaned in despair. Of course it was form fitting. The same with the bottom half. She wiped down the mirror to take a look, and nearly cried again.

It hugged her figure. It showed off everything.

She hated it immediately.

She might as well be naked in this thing! And that was not a thought she wanted to have in current company.

Ola startled as the door was flung open suddenly and aggressively.

“Hey!” she shrieked. He was unperturbed.

“Good. You’re dressed. Come on.”

“But… but my hair is still wet!”

“Don’t care. Get these on, or I’ll put them on you myself.” He threw a pair of black boots at her, and then proceeded to watch her like a shriek-hawk as she pulled them on over the foot covering of the undersuit. They were just too big, no matter how tightly she pulled the straps. They were going to be uncomfortable.

Just like everything else at the moment.

With one last sigh, she towelled off her hair to the best of her ability.

The towel was ripped from her hands, making her wince and gasp. Her hair hung in loose damp curls, settling on her shoulders. She grimaced as cold, wet patches grew on the shoulders of the bodysuit. The guard gripped her upper arm, shoving her from the room and following behind her.

Ola wrapped her arms around her body, eyes flitting around at everyone she was herded past. She felt exposed, vulnerable, naked under the dark soulless visors and featureless helmets. She shrank inward, tried to make herself as small as possible.

The hard press of the blaster to her spine kept her moving whenever her steps faltered. Her heart hammered rapidly, her stomach twisted and roiled as the doors to the throne room towered above her, menacing. The two guards outside pushed them open, granting her entrance. She was pushed through the doorway, matching the leering gleam of Vizsla with a glare. She was shoved past the assemblage, herded towards the throne. Her eyes danced between the red haired woman with the folded arms and judgemental stare and Vizsla’s pale blue eyes drinking her in. She shuddered, feeling sick, her arms tightening around her body. She was pushed forward with a harsh shove, stumbling on the step and falling to her knees. Sharp pain shot up her arms as she caught herself with her hands. She felt the gloved fingers grip her chin, forcing her head up to look him in the eyes.

“This is a good look for you, my dear. Kneeling before your master.” She grimaced and pulled her head away, eyes gleaming with defiance. She opened her mouth to speak.

Her words were lost as the doors flew inwards with the force of a hurricane. The sound of gagging echoed around the suddenly quiet room.

A Mandalorian soldier hung in mid air, scrambling at his throat, carried into the room by invisible hands, followed by the largest, most imposing Zabrak she’d ever seen.

And a voice that still haunted her dreams and sent chills down her spine echoed through the room.

“Vizsla! I challenge you, one warrior to another! And only the strongest shall rule Mandalore!” Ola gulped, her eyes meeting those brightly burning eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, her blood became ice.

“Maul…”

@eloquentmoon @rubytotherebellion @writercels @stardustbee @nxctuaryninetythree @botherbother-blog @grinningnexu @kaminocasey

#in service #maul #savage #vizsla #bo katan kryze #tw: captivity #tw: choking #tw: violence #tw: slavery

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danddymaro · 2 years

Text

Tender | Bloodhound x Fem reader

I’m a slut, I’ve got three loves. Bloodhound, Mirage and Rev. So, here’s a thingie booper for this precious little tracker.

Reader is female// Mentions of pregnancy.

Fluff, hardly any smut but still a little nsfw

A quick Drabble that went a little too long. Maybe later I will redo this into something that makes sense and has plot.

Translations :

Líf mitt = My Life Ástin mín = My Love Elskan = My darling Blóðhundur = BloodHound

Word Count: 1127

Tender

Every word from the beast of prey was a soft utter, their voice while still muffled by the mask at times, not losing any of its softness as it reaches the (h/c) haired woman.

Sprawled beneath with eyes shut in bliss, she holds in a quiet breath whilst the respirator is disregarded, it being a nuisance during such a cherished moment.

Skin is always met with skin and there is nothing in between, and if such a barrier comes, it never lasts.

It is the hunter’s rule, all to her delight.

A sweet endearment makes her heart flutter, and she releases an airy giggle right as the words reach her in between light nibbles that trail from her ear down to her navel.

She smiled as every featherlight graze of her dear’s lips tickles when they pass certain spots far too delicate to withstand the stimulation.

“ Blóð ..” she sweetly giggles as their lips land over a dreadfully ticklish spot.

Their travel pauses for a second, and she can feel their lips stretch as a gentle smile is executed.

“Ticklish?” Bloodhound asks almost innocently, the feigned tone holding far too much cheekiness for her to believe. Again, the act is repeated and she squirms within firmly placed hands that hold down her hips.

A warm chuckle leaves the teasing aggressor before they relent, their lips moving again with desire instead, traveling further down to her soft, wetness.

“Is this spot sensitive too?” Bloodhound asks coyly.

A gasp leaves her at the first quick swipe of the tongue which jolts the rest of her body.

Immediately her hands move towards long locks.

She start at the ends that had fallen onto her flesh, and she then weaves her hands through to find her lover’s scalp. She pulls them close as her hips buck forward, shamelessly riding the pointed tongue that flickers and curls within her.

She's then angled as her legs are carried by strong shoulders, the sinful wet muscle that is driven within her and pleasing her enticing a voiceless cry from her.

She can hardly help herself from continuing to wiggle her hips, nor can she stop the involuntary shivers her body executes.

Never does it cease to amaze her that such a predator, so merciless to the point of it being bestial, could speak so tenderly as though every breath uttered carried the promise of a kiss that would reach her.

Proclamations of love were never forgotten, the affectionate praising yet another constant to their intimate moments.

She couldn't imagine Bloodhound any more tender, but when a second heartbeat echoed within her, she was witness to yet another level of adoration that was only a hairstrand short of being worshipping.

" Ástin mín, " Bloodhound said, all in that lovingly sweet tone that translated burning desire, even as she felt at her lowest.

- Even when she'd felt disgusted with what her body had become.

"You have never been more beautiful, " They breathed, their hands molding every curve of her body, grasping at all of the new softness and swelling that came to her chest as well as every other bit that had become more shapely.

The roughened palms could hardly stay still in one spot, instead, moving with the plan of exploration as they excitedly touched her.

- Truly, there was nothing more alluring than their lover claimed, all for them.

" Líf mitt..." Bloodhound added, sounding utterly strained as they repositioned themselves, their hips soon pressed to hers, earning a soft moan from the female.

Hot was their breath against her skin as words were muttered in their native tongue, each syllable pushed out with difficulty .

'...swollen with min child,’ They inwardly mused with eyes that twinkled in delight, ‘bearing my every child.'

Just the thought alone was euphoric.

Bloodhound literally pants as their hands run down her sides, knowing the changes that had come with her state and absolutely adoring them as they are seen and much more felt.

"Elskan... I cannot wait any longer," they say, truly regretful, almost ashamed at how little they'd been able to control themselves from simply giving in already.

She doesn’t mind, and with a shuddered breath she slowly takes all of her lover, every inch of the thick length sheathed within her melting warmth.

Her dear lover holds her tenderly, strong arms almost crossing behind her as she is embraced.

During the heated act she's held, cherished, and even worshiped, and it is addictive.

She shivers in powerful arms out of simple delight and pleasure, and her own terms of endearment slip out, all breathy and needy.

Every second is utter bliss for her body and for her soul too.

“- Ástin,” she says sweetly, the word whispered in Bloodhound’s ear, spoken almost shyly as she tries a language that is not hers. Little by little she understands and learns, and it becomes her own address to her darling during such moments.

The word alone is nearly enough to break the hunter of what little resistance they have left to last.

“My Blóðhundur,” She adds just as sweetly.

More kisses follow before a final lip lock that is a fierce, wet press is timed with a final thrust forward.

After, she still wonders how they find her so beautiful, how she can be so cherished even whilst she’s an undone mess beneath.

Bloodhound practically glows in sweat, every dip of their body graceful and to perfection, The allure that they have is inexplicable.

Even while covered head to toe, with not a patch of skin visible, they are irresistible.

She had yet to consider that within their mind, Bloodhound thinks the same.

They sit and stare with awe, and they are so terribly in love that they cannot see anything else aside from her, the perfection that she is far to great to take for granted.

A hand lands on the side of her face, and sweetly it strokes her cheek while half-lidded eyes look down at her with desire that still lingers within their owner.

“You are...irresistible,” Bloodhound mutters.

Her name is said, the soft slur dripping from lips that are slickened by a tongue that peeks out to swipe over the sudden dryness.

“Let me take you once more...” Bloodhound murmurs as they lean down for another kiss that makes a path to her ear, “ (f/n)...” they practically purr.

“I want more of you...” they sultry beg and her stomach becomes a knotted mess as her heart swells because of how hungrily she’s stared at.

She feels sexy and irresistible, and the previous thoughts of self loathing she’d had constantly visit her go forgotten.

“- I need more of you,” They add, and she needily waits for more of that tenderness that only her dear Bloodhound can give her.

A/N: This went from 120 to 730 to 1127.

#bloodhound x reader #bloodhound x reader insert #bloodhound x fem reader #bloodhound x female reader #bloodhound x you #bloodhound x y/n #bloodhound drabble #bloodhound fanfic #bloodhound fanfiction #bloodhound one shot #bloodhound oneshot #bloodhound apex #apex x reader #apex bloodhound x reader #apex bloodhound x reader insert #apex oneshot #apex one shot #apex drabbles

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zuhoscrumb · 3 years

Text

Genre: Smut, killer au

Pairing: killer!kihyun x reader

Word Count: 675

Warning/s: knife play, blood play, implied consent, oral(m receiving), darcyphilia, stockholm syndrome, LOT OF SMUT YEAH

Synopsis: Killer Kihyun captures you, strangely enough your turned out by the situation and Kihyun can’t find the heart to kill you.

A/N: This is a FIC!! FICTION!! NOT REAL!! I understand the situation is strange but as fiction this shit is hot asl. If this type of thing make you uncomfortable, pls don’t read!! I also didn’t proof read this so… sorry? Happy reading!! Also feel free to send in a drabble (prompt list on my carrd in bio).

Your plump lips, wonderful figure, thoughtful eyes, soft skin- he could continue.

Is it wrong for him to love you?

He slid the blade from the side of your face to your neck.

Kihyun had discarded your clothes and had you tied up in your basement.

Dominated in your own home.

Kihyun planned to kill you till he noticed how wet you were.

How you dripped for him and how what he thought were moans and groans of fear were needy.

It would be a lie to say you weren't interested in this kind of thing. You always wanted to try this kind of thing.

You knew it wasn’t appropriate to want a literal killer to rail you but he looked too hot.

The way Kihyun manhandled you and grazed his knife against your body, made your brain fuzzy.

Kihyun gently took the duck tape off your mouth and put the knife back to your neck.

“T-touch me,” you whimpered to your killer, desperately wanting to be pleasured.

Kihyun smiled and took off his mask.

When he did you practically drooled.

He figured, he got this far, he couldn’t simply let you go or kill you after this point anyway.

Kihyun turned the knife to its handle and held the back of the blade. Without warning he pushed the handle into you, causing you to whimper.

He started to thrust the handle in and out of you, faster, using his free hand to rub your clit.

Your juices start to drip down the blade making kihyun decide to stop.

You began to clench around nothing from the sudden emptiness.

“Please, sir!”

Kihyun smirked at the honorific.

“Lick,” Kihyun said simply, holding the blade to your mouth.

His expectation was clear and it’s not like you didn’t want to, so you did as told and licked the shape side of the blade, causing you to cut your tongue a bit.

Kihyun immediately crashed his lips into yours, tasting not only your fluids but also the metallic flavor of your blood.

This is the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced, and you felt a shot of excitement spike your body as your captor started to remove his pants.

Kihyun connected his lips to yours and pushed his member into yours.

He continued the ram into you despite your screams and whimpers.

Kihyun seeing the tear weld in your eyes and hearing your moans against his mouth was heaven.

He felt himself feel close to his orgasm and pulled out, while also separating the kiss.

“Please put it back, I’ll be so good for you, please mister,” pleads spilled from your mouth trying your hardest to convince Kihyun to fuck you again.

Tears started to drop faster from your eyes as you continuously clenched around nothing.

“I need you, please,” you sobbed.

A light bull went off in Kihyun’s head, he quickly placed a thumb in your mouth to get you to stop talking.

“Shut up for me, darling.”

And you did.

What else could you have done?

You were so ready to submit to this man.

Not just for now, but for as long as you lived.

Kihyun pressed his cock into your mouth, which was already slick with your saliva, from the amount of drooling you've done.

“God,” Kihyun slurred, letting out an elongated sigh.

“Your mouth is perfect, pretty thing,” he said, gripping your breast, giving special attention to your nipple.

Kihyun used his free hand to grip your hair and thrusted into your mouth.

You gagged and choked but you took it all like a good slut just for him.

Kihyun eventually came into your mouth and you didn't let a single drop spill.

You treasured every bit of him and what he gave you and this was no exception.

“Fuck,” Kihyun cursed pulling out of your mouth.

He looked down at you and smiled, filling your chest with pride.

“I’m gonna keep you,” he said, ruffling your hair, and kissing your forehead, making you smile.

#kihyun #kihyun smut #monsta #monsta x #smut #jooheon #shownu #minhyuk #wonho #hyungwon #changkyun #monsta x smut #monsta x oneshot #monsta x reactions #monsta x imagines #yoo kihyun

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chipper-smol · 3 years

Text

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Vanilla Chain 1

Prompt: Ghost remembers each time they died and that’s how they’ve progressed through challenges most bugs wouldn’t even dream achieving. However, no one else seems to remember and instead they wonder why Ghost reacts badly to simple casual touches.

By @ink-of-void

A dull drone of rain pattered down across the cool stone below. The rain had only served as a buffer to the dull, passive steps of the bugs in the city, or the ever so gentle wing beats in the distance. Occasional creaks and groans would whine from the structures of the city, begging for maintenance or to finally be allowed rest. Each sound, each moment only served to further cement itself in the cacophony of white noise. A symphony of empty sound that echoed into the city's ambience.

It had been hours since the Ghost had stopped in front of the statue. Its small head tilted upwards to face that of the stone, carved to the likeness of its sibling. The inscription below spoke of sacrifice. An Eternal sacrifice. It was almost ironic. How the one forced to suffer was put on display at the apex of the ‘City of Tears’.

Memories began to rise, welling up and bubbling in its shell. They could remember their sibling screaming. How the sound of their cries echoed on deaf ears, or that easing their pain meant rending their own flesh in a desperate attempt to stop the torture. It was a waking nightmare.

They had failed their sibling. Try as they might, time and again, they could not bring it upon themselves to strike that final blow. The cries of the ‘Hollow Knight’ screeching into the black egg as they faded away from consciousness for the umpteenth time. A pang of discomfort manifested in their shell.

Slowly Ghost’s mind went from just their sibling to all the other bugs. Each one of those who slaughtered Ghost without mercy, killed with reckless abandon, or just proved to best them in combat. They were the ones it had defeated in the past. Bugs that had caused them to relive the same ritual of failure repeatedly before finally earning that place of victory. Every misstep, every badly timed jump, every poorly executed attack, It all ended in the same punishment over and over.  CRaCK.  The pain was almost palpable just thinking about it.

It felt just as new as the first time they were ever defeated. A cold sting of its shell cracking, body being torn limb from limb, crumbling beneath them like old stone. Void spilling from its head and pooling into a free floating shape among those lost to the sickness or those who simply proved superior. Though, the empty feeling of losing its corporeal flesh paled in comparison to what came next.

It was like floating up into an entropy of empty space and confusion. The dark land was void of any life or warmth, disorienting all that passed into its wake. Yet every time, it would be waiting to welcome the vessel back again and again into its crushing, desolate embrace. It felt itself being split in two, one being given back to the world, while the other was forced to remain in limbo until it was saved. But it wouldn't matter, as they would re-awaken only moments later, sitting patiently on a bench back where they started.

The overwhelming sense of exhaustion and dissonance took a toll each time they came back. Missing half of their being and having to fight themselves just so they can regain the broken piece back. All the while, no one else seems to take notice, or even remember what had happened prior. Hundreds of failures, hundreds of deaths, and Ghost could never seem to get used to it. It truly was a burden, one that Ghost often sought refuge from by simply resting a while longer at the bench.

It was a dance with death that always ended in what could be considered a ‘mercy’. The lack of claim to its shade, allowed them yet another chance. But perhaps mercy wasn't the right term. Having to battle your own face, a fragment of your own being… it hardly seemed kind, or fair. Even after returning the shade to its rightful place, the fight wasn’t over. Most of the time, it was only just beginning. There would be no rest. There was never any rest.

However to the spider in red, this tiny bug formed of the void and pale, felt nothing as it cut down everything from vermin to gods. Acting as if death was simply part of a long list of chores, they made it seem effortless. So when she first responded to Lemm’s call, she would be lying if she didn't find it the slightest bit odd that Ghost was simply standing idle. She reached out to them, barely grazing their back with her fingers. “Ghost?-” 

Without another moment passing, the vessel whipped around, nail in hand. The slash was quick, the sharp song of the blade ripping through the air as Ghost’s reaction went into motion. Time seemed to slow for a moment, its blind attack not revealing the consequence of its actions before it was far too late. Ghosts cloak finally revealed the bug into its immediate view. Upon seeing the figure, their body tensed, hanging onto the blade with an iron grip.  

Hornet didn’t even realize what happened until she glanced down at her arm. Seeing the deep blue blood dripping from the new slice in her shell was telling enough. It was nothing more than a surface wound if she was honest. Easily fixed with time and bandages. But that wasn’t her concern at the moment. Letting her hand close, she looked over to Ghost with a worried expression.

The vessel stood ready, both hands on its nail as it simply held the weapon in place. A tiny shake was visible at the end of the nail it was brandishing. Their face held no expression, yet its body told Hornet all she needed to know.

“Little Ghost?” She asked quietly, holding up her hands to show she wasn't a threat. “Are you… alright? Lemm asked me to come check on you. He says you’ve been here for hours now.” 

Ghost paused for a moment, clicking its head towards Hornet. Realization struck them, causing them to slowly lower their weapon. Their gaze fell to the floor as the nail hit the stone sidewalk with a light clink. Their blade’s shimmering reflection bounced back to the vessel's sockets. Part of it was stained with the blood of their sister, obscuring some of the brilliant reflection. The water occasionally dripped down and cut the image in two, washing away the blood as it did.

Hornet sighed, going over to them and gently knelt down.

“Is something the matter, little Ghost?” the spider chimed softly, going over to touch their shoulder. Ghost recoiled, pulling their shoulder away in a rather aggressive manner. Their head didnt lift, turning instead to focus on their path. They put their nail on their back and began their leave. The spider stood up after a moment, bowing her head with a little shake as Ghost began to disappear

 “Even you need to rest sometimes, little one. Please I’m, try to get some.”

-------------------------------

By https://twitter.com/Hell_Yena

-------------------------------

By @nonbinary-ghost

Rain patters down against your shell like thousands of tiny, icy stones. The drum of it inside your mask and the prickling of it against your small body would normally be unpleasant enough as to be overwhelming; but lost as you are in your thoughts and the twisting waves of emotion trying to drown you, the rain is scarcely enough to ground you. You feel disconnected and distant, as if you aren’t really in control of your body, merely being carried along by the steady movement of your legs.

You gradually realize that you have been wandering like this for a while now. How long, you can scarcely guess, but long enough that your cloak is soaked through, and any scrap of warmth has left you. Dirtmouth had been celebrating the first twelve span of being free of the Infection, and while you had been just as happy as the next bug about the recovery of the town, the celebration had filled you with a nameless, twisting dread. And then all the lights and the sounds and the smells and the touching had left you reeling and sick. So you ran.

It could have been hours since then. You have no way of knowing. You don’t quite remember deciding to come to the City of Tears either. You just let your thoughts blur into a black haze, pointed your mask to the ground, and let your feet carry you wherever they wanted to go. You hadn’t expected to find yourself standing before the statue of your sibling. You simply realized that you were staring blankly at the inscription along the statue’s base.

“Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.” Something hot and prickly bubbles up inside of you at the words, making your shell itch and crawl like when you fall in acid. Hornet had once explained the feeling as anger. Why are you angry? You puzzle over it for a moment, resisting your initial urge to strike at the plaque with your nail and scratch out the offending inscription. Instead, you read over it again, feeling the anger boil deep in your belly.

Sacrifice. That’s the part that makes you angry. Sacrifice implies choice. Hollow had no choice in sealing the Radiance. You hadn’t had any choice. None of your siblings had any agency over anything that happened to them. No, none of you were giver the choice to make sacrifices – you were the sacrifice. And for what? Hallownest still fell. So many bugs died, so many cultures were consumed by the plague and lost to dust and rot. All of your siblings, but Hollow and Hornet especially, still suffered and struggled. Yes, you had eventually killed the Radiance, but that hadn’t been part of the Pale King’s plan. He didn’t even know about Godseeker, didn’t even consider that there might be another way that didn’t involve condemning his child to an eternity of suffering. No, your “Father” had expected all of you to “sacrifice” yourselves to the seals and suffer in silent mystery to keep the Radiance contained. How dare he imply any level of choice in what happened to your siblings.

“Ghost?”

The soft question yanks you painfully from your thoughts and you feel as if you slam back into yourself. You are suddenly very aware of the rain hitting your mask, of your hands clenched into fists.

Of the dark shadows that had begun to flicker like flames around you receiving back into you. You spin to find Hornet standing on one of the nearby signposts, her red cloak so damp it nearly looked brown and her needle poised as if prepared to zip away at any moment.

“Are you alright?” Her stance relaxes somewhat as the shadows fade. You don’t know how to answer, so you simply turn away. You look up at your sibling’s likeness looming over you, proud, regal, poised. Not at all like the desperate, brutal Pure Vessel you were forced to fight in Godseeker’s Pantheons. Not at all like the sick and injured bug that you freed from the black egg temple after killing the Radiance.

“Do you need to be alone?”

You shrug. The happiness and celebration in Dirtmouth had been overwhelming, and you had wanted to be alone then. But now, a part of you mutters discontentedly. You’re lonely, and maybe Hornet of all people could understand these feelings. She was the only one besides Hollow who might. “I’m angry,” you sign, pointing at yourself and making a sharp gesture with both hands. Hornet has slowly been teaching you and Hollow the sign language used in the Hive, but none of you are all that good with it yet. It often requires body language and facial expressions for certain distinctions between similar signs – a difficult feat to accomplish when your face is a mask. Hornet follows your gaze and hops down to join you.

“About the statue?”

You point to the inscription.

“We didn’t have a choice,” you sign furiously. “We failed. And now what’s left?”

You stop, a dawning realization creeping through you. That was why you’re angry. Why you’re discontent even though by all accounts you had succeeded. You defeated the Radiance, ended the Infection, freed your sibling, and even survived channeling the Void Entity. You are free to do whatever you want now, but you slowly realize that this new freedom is what has you feeling so distant. You and your siblings were all created with a purpose, and now, with that purpose gone, you have nothing left. You have no other skills but fighting. No passions, no home, no culture to rebuild. You and Hollow are free, but now what is left for you? Your Father had sacrificed your futures, not just your lives, and now you are feeling lost and separate from the bugs around you. They had all suffered through the plague, lost loved ones and homes. But they had passions and dreams to guide them and give them hope. You only have nightmares that keep dragging you into the past, making it impossible to look forward to the future.

“Who am I supposed to be, now?” you finish limply. The anger is gone, replaced with a choking sorrow. Your breathing feels thick and heavy. Hornet holds out a hand, hesitating before touching you to make it an offer, and you lean into it, letting her hand rest lightly between your shoulders.

“What the Pale King did, what he demanded of all of us, was unjust,” she said at last, an ember of her own rage warming her words. “There is nothing that can change that. You and Hollow and all the others deserved so much more. But Ghost,” she kneels so she can look into your mask with such honest ferocity that your breath hitches in your chest. “You are so much more than what our Father made you. You are not just a weapon or a tool. You never were. There is a future for us now, because of you. I know it will be had. It will be scary. Change always is. But we have each other – you, me, Hollow, all of Dirtmouth – we are all here to support each other. We are all learning and growing past everything that happened. I promise, none of us are going to leave you behind again.”

A tightness forms in your throat at her words and your vision blurs as that heaviness in your chest tightens. That promise to not be left behind again stirs a confusing blur of emotion that you can’t make any sense of. It doesn’t feel good, but it doesn’t feel bad either.

“Can I hug you?”

You nod and lean into her touch, the weight and warmth of your sister’s arms doing more to ground you that the rain. For once you feel … safe. Something inside you cracks, like an old shell you’ve grown too big for, and suddenly you’re crying. For everything you went through, for everything you lost, for everyone who didn’t survive to see the same light of freedom. You sob, clutching at Hornet’s cloak.

You finally let yourself mourn everything that brought you here.

And tentatively hope for everything that might come to be.

-------------------------------

By @brimal-baspid

-------------------------------

By @martin-ftw

The rain pours heavily in the city of tears.

The knight walks up to the fountain square. They look upon the fountain, where the Memorial to the Hollow Knight resides.

The knight inspects, "In the Black Vault far above. Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal." as Hornet dashes in with her needle.

"Again we meet little ghost." Hornet started, "... seek the Grave in Ash and the mark it would grant to one like you."

After finishing her guidance for the knight, she added, quietly, "Are you, perhaps, even a little, afraid?"

The water flows through the fountain endlessly, yet the knight remains emotionless.

Hornet giggles to herself, "hmmhmm, that's right, no voice to cry suffering, best of luck to your journeys little ghost."

After a few seconds of silence, Hornet raised her needle and hopped onto the ceiling.

The knight pauses, and dashes right to the opened door, leaving only the sounds of rain splashing the water fountain and flapping of wings from the lumaflies.

At the front door of the Pleasure House, the knight inserts the simple key and opens the door, walking in as Hornet follows. With the beautiful singing by Marissa, the knight goes on the long elevator ride as Hornet clings onto the elevator.

“About to learn your troubled past, aren't you little ghost?" Hornet asks inside the hot spring, while the knight sits on the bench.

The knight nods while opening their map and picking off one of those scarab markers, moving it to the bottom right of the map.

"Though I have underestimated your power, do you think you've got what it takes? To preserve the future of hallownest?" The knight does not know how to answer, they stand up from the bench and pack up their map.

"Exit's on the right, break the wall down to King's station," Hornet says while thinking to herself, could this one succeed? The knight swings their nail at the wall, breaking it open with a loud crack, and heads downwards.

Hornet sat in the spring by herself.

Guarding the cast-off shell is her job - she knows she has to fight the knight one more time, to ensure the knight is ready to finish their quest even after seeing their conception and past. She sighs, all rested, and stands up; knowing she's much faster than the knight in traversing the Hallownest, she raises her needle and swings out of the pleasure room, down to the Kingdom's edge she goes.

“Perhaps this one would be strong enough. They made it so far, don't fail me now little ghost" She quietly mumbles, before pointing her needle towards the entrance of the arena,

"So you'd pursue the deeper truth? It isn't one the weak could bear. Prove yourself ready to face it. I'll not hold back..."

With the wind blowing harder and louder in the edge of the world, the fight begins, the sentinel of a fading land and the vessel to save Hallownest.

-------------------------------

By @potentialforart

-------------------------------

By @starstress

They crouch, body full of tension, and they stare on ahead at their target. The platform is right there, waiting for them like a pedestal.

They jump.

Soaring through the air, quick and steady, they reach out, claws stretched and yearning.

There, they think. Right there.

And as the edge comes right by them, confidence blooms inside their chest, sure that they'll reach it. Their outstretched claws brush by a single tiny pristine leaf, one in a dozen, green and lush. It bounces right back into place as they are claimed by gravity.

They fall onto the lower platform, the moss softening their landing. They look up, and disappointment is a small bitter ball in their stomach, but they brush it aside. The stone edge they were aiming for now looms above them unforgiving. They will not let it discourage them, they will try again.

They want to know. They need to know. Who that red-clothed bug was, and why they felt such a pull to her.

----

Through stretching lush highways and seeming ceilingless and bottomless caverns, they push onwards. They’re spurred ever on by glimpses of rushing red, pale horns and swishing silk.

They would have expected the constant green to become monotonous by the time they reach a bench locked behind a gate, guiding them ever higher, but the shrub and moss-covered land surprises them still. From keeping them on high alert constantly and mercilessly, to undeniably charming them through towering leaf-embroidered architecture and statues, simple but beautiful blooms filling the air with glittering pollen, and soft chimes of birdsong, Greenpath has carved a spot in their heart that they can’t believe can ever be topped.

Still on they go, for though they wish to properly explore, they know that that can wait. They heal themselves, fill in the map with all the paths and twists and turns that they have crossed, put on the few charms that they have gathered, and stand up. They look ever upwards and hope they’re drawing closer to wherever the red-clothed person might be leading them.

----

There--

They rush forward, into the air and off the moss-covered stone ledge, eyes locked onto the red figure. Behind them, a gate slams closed, but though the sound echoes in the small clearing, they pay it no mind.

They land on steady feet, leaf softening the sound of their fall.

There she is--

They've found her.

The red-cloaked bug, in all her stern and decisive figure.

She is encompassed by engraved and moss-covered pillars of stone, but still she towers over them, despite only being about twice their own height.

Her dark eyes, but not as dark as theirs, no one with as dark as theirs, never, track their every move, ready to act, ready to cut down. They stare at her and she stares at them, a contest of wills.

She raises her blade - her needle - and they rush to mirror her.

Soft light streams down, from in between greenery, though they not know not its source, and halos her in pale light. And though this is their first proper encounter with her, the red bug feels familiar, like they know her mask, the shape of her eyes, like they once gazed, even briefly, upon those features in a past life.

Nevertheless, her stance is rigid and unforgiving.

No further, her eyes scream even before she deems them worthy of words, no further I will allow you, until you prove yourself.

They tighten their grip upon their nail, and shove back into their void all pangs of sadness. This is a fight for their life, and, more than ever, a fight for their existence.

Maybe, after they defeat her, they can ask her why she feels like family - lost, but found again.

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By @dovalore

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By @jonsilverstone

https://soundcloud.com/jachym-hajek/vanilla-1-july-21-jon-silverstone-hornet-v-hollow/s-8IcY8UIzrtg

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By @alaska-ren-works

“Do you want to just fulfill the wyrm’s standards or do you want to make me proud, Princess of Hallownest?”

Hornet tightened her needle’s grip and lowered her stance. Heart calm and mind steady, she didn’t feel the rise of a subtle smirk on her face. This was her moment she had trained for in the Hive. Not to be the pale wyrm’s spawn, but to be the Daughter of Deepnest.

“You will see my answer soon, Mother.”

Weavers and bugs alike stood in solemn excitement as Herrah, Beast and Queen of Deepnest, circled the princess. Her white mask hid her emotions, but Hornet could more than feel the queen’s wide grin. Herrah twirled her own needle in her hand, a feat that impressed Hornet to no end as that very needle was longer than she was tall.

“Very well.” With a final step, Herrah faced Hornet with her needle at the ready. “You know the rules and so do I.”

Hornet nodded. As the lower-ranked of the two, Hornet must make the first move. Everyone and everything turned still. Watching. Waiting.

With a resolute bang of a drum, Hornet yelled, “Garama!”

The crowd roared with the start of the duel, but Hornet only heeded her opponent. She speared her needle forward and as Herrah jumped away, she reeled it back. Herrah dodged the attack and closed in on Hornet. The young spider darted away right before Herrah’s needle slashed through the space she just left.

When it came to brute strength, Hornet would lose in an instant. But she was smaller, faster, and more agile. If she could avoid a direct hit, she might have a chance at winning this.

Hornet rolled away as another strike whistled too close for her liking. She slashed her needle upwards, forcing Herrah to jump back. Taking this, she jumped into the air and released a storm of silk.

When her feet landed, Herrah slammed into her. Her breath wrenched out of her chest as she flew then skidded on the floor. It was a miracle she was still on her feet. With her head bent, she did not see the pride glimmer in her mother’s eyes before the queen composed herself.

Herrah’s head turned when the ravelling of silk sounded above her. The whistling of an incoming needle alerted her and the Beast parried Hornet’s thrust.

In Herrah’s moment of distraction, Hornet covered the arena in sticky silk traps. Now, this was where Hornet shines. She darted between the silk

strands and rushed at Herrah, the bigger spider now pressed for space. Strikes and slashes were landed and blocked, and Herrah growled. The next second Hornet rushed in, Herrah took hold of her and used her momentum to throw her far. Hornet flipped in the air but stumbled on her landing. Looking up, Herrah’s needle swung in a wide arc, destroying the nearby threads.

Mother and daughter studied each other from opposite ends of the arena. Hornet felt fatigue settle in her bones and her lungs struggled with big gulps of air. Herrah stood tall and her giant nail held steady, but Hornet could see her chest moving quickly.

“What do you think about heading over to the hotspring after this, huh?” Hornet’s eyes widened at Herrah’s invitation.

“Y-yes, Mother!” Hornet reddened at her stuttering voice. She cast out her exhaustion and readied her stance.

Herrah grinned as she raised her needle once more. “Then let’s make this worth it.”

#hollow knight #hollowknight #telephoneknight #vanilla #hornet #ghost

191 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

hole in the wall

In a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with hole in the wall that has him coming back for more.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, PWP, cult activity, drug mention, alcohol consumption, glory hole, cursing, degradation, praise, possessive jealous!shouto, stuck in the wall, spanking, overstim, bruising, bleeding, breeding

word count: 7,831

a/n: read the fucking warnings bro, im tired, I hate formatting, here’s to finally writing what I wanna write! also, this is for a lovely bnharem collab that kept getting pushed back... make sure to read the intro to understand my story! anyways, gloryholes is peak anonymous sex and I just,,, if thats the only way imma get to suck shoutos cock, I will. I had something else to say... I forgot. oH THIS IS WRITTEN IN A NEW STLYE-ISH??? porn from shoutos pov!!!

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Traditionally, when people think of the connection between heroes and cults, they expect that the heroes eradicate the cults, not that the heroes are a part of a cult.

It was somewhat ironic that a group of people who advocated for public safety, for the wellbeing of every citizen of the country - the world - would demand compensation in areas that didn't involve financial compensation. Heroes saved the day countless amounts of times, but when they needed... help at night because they've been so busy saving the world, there needed to be compensation.

It had shocked nearly everyone within the hero community when none other than Yaoyorozu Momo brought them a solution. For nothing more than loyalty to saving the day, all heroes granted the benefit of joining the Savior of Eight Million, an… organization brought forth by the prodigious hero. It had shocked the hero community at first that the once thought of a modern-day princess, putting together a wicked group that served the beastly needs of heroes, was almost laughable. But as time passed, as trials tested the organization (cult), the more heroes realized how lucky they were that it was Yaoyorozu who created this.

The Yaoyorozus, in all their riches and connections, made this group untouchable.

Police were bought off, apprehended, silenced.

Heroes with the savior complex were put down.

Villains were never believed.

The Savior of Eight Million held ties with the greatest, the most esteemed people in the world. The parties were unworldly, dripping with diamonds and gold, the sweet smell of champagne barely drowning out the bitter acidic and burning plastic smell of the drugs used vicariously at their gatherings. All heroes joined, politicians and celebrities fought to get in, and commoners wished they could be the servants of the night, whether that meant they would be serving food, drinks, or drugs, or allowing the heroes to do what this was all started for: to fuck them.

Of course, it didn't help that each commoner was paid for their service, discretion, and loyalty. Those who attempted to give away the secrets of the nights were always taken care of, and every gathering after someone tried to snitch, there was always a complaint that a sex slave just wasn't good enough.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a sweet girl, a helpful woman. She was a hero.

Heroes far and wide grovel at her feet in thanks, and even more surprisingly, even her old class supported this. Oh, how great life was when you were the most significant, greatest, and most untouchable cult in history.

To Todoroki Shouto, well, he didn't really have an opinion on this all, not really at least.

The cult - the organization, was created to help out heroes such as himself live comfortably while having such a busy lifestyle. His sex drive had never been that high, with his twenty-fifth birthday approaching, he could count on his two hands the number of times he'd been attended to with the help of the organization within the past five years.

Yes, two years after debuting as heroes, Momo had approached the graduate class with her plan. Todoroki Shouto could never deny a friend, especially not someone as smart and intentional as Yaoyorozu Momo. He had been one of the first - if not the first - voice to approve of her project.

However, the fifth-anniversary gathering (it was not a party) was finally here. Two months ago, the first round of reminders came around in the form of a beautifully handwritten card by their fearless yet kind leader. Shouto wondered if she really had handwritten each and every card, or if she had created it with her quirk - while he wasn't that heavily involved, he was not ignorant to the numbers of the cult, group, organization.

TO TODOROKI SHOUTO,

I WRITE THIS LETTER TO ASK IF YOU WILL BE JOINING US IN TWO MONTHS FOR ONE OF THE MANY GREATEST CELEBRATIONS WE - THE MEMBERS OF THE SAVIOR OF EIGHT MILLION - WILL HAVE FOR OUR FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF BEING SUCH A WELL RECEIVED AND INFLUENTIAL ORGANIZATION. I AM GRATEFUL TO RELAY THAT OUR ESTEEMED MEMBERS BAKUGOU-SAN AND MIDORIYA-SAN WILL BE HOSTING OUR EVENT!

I FEEL AS IF WE HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG, TODOROKI-SAN, AND I MISS YOU SO DEARLY. I HOPE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE HAVE BEEN FINE AND THAT WE SHOULD MEET UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO RESPOND TO THE RSVP TO EITHER JIROU-SAN, KAMINARI-SAN, OR ME!

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, YAOYOROZU MOMO

The letter had been kind, inviting, and so fleeting it made Shouto feel like he needed more from one of his most missed and trusted friend. Still, there would be time to catch up with everyone, no use in pushing now.

Grabbing his phone, Shouto typed in Momo's contact name into the search bar, tongue swiping his lower lip while he typed in his message and sent it. He had never been one for these parties. Too often, there were just too over-the-top. The festivities and friends were fun, but having to fight the impossible crowds for a moment of peace kept him from attending.

A truly mundane member.

But this was different after all, it wasn't every day that they celebrated five great years of service.

I'll be going, Yayorozu.

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Two months went by before Shouto had even realized it.

In those two months, he had received a formal invitation with a day and time.

2X28, OCTOBER 23

STARTING FROM 20:00

Of course, the lack of an address is a precaution for keeping their organization out of the limelight should they be betrayed. Events of all shapes and sizes were always planned by the upper board of the organization. Only a specific few knew the place where the night would befall, and the rest of the members would be brought to the festivities by a chauffeur provided by the Yaoyorozu's. Getting to and from the party was always stressfree, no matter what befell that night, their safety of getting home was still safe.

The invitation was tucked away into the inside pocket of his jacket, it was his ticket to getting into the party, and it was best to not leave it behind.

With the invitation now securely placed into his jacket, the smooth inflexible material stiff against his chest, Shouto stared into the mirror he stood before.

An elegant full-length mirror reflected his image to him, and truth be told, he was impressed with his presentation.

A charcoal grey Italian suit trimmed glinting silver nearly gleamed against the white light; the jacket was undone, exposing the white-collared long-sleeved shirt underneath. Typically, Shouto was a tie man, but the sleek black tie he was to wear lay hanging on the hanger, the first few buttons of the shirt undone. It highlighted his toned chest, the few pale scars on his chest just visible enough on his exposed skin to look like it was intensional. He looked good.

His fingers touched his hair, the once long style had been cut in a recent fight with a villain. It hadn't mattered much to Shouto, and in fact, the sudden haircut had spiked his overall ratings. It was short now, just long enough for his fingers to graze through the locks. It was slicked back, the swirl of red and white mixing and strands of red falling into his sight.

“Todoroki-sama, the car is here.”

Shouto didn't bother turning to the attendee, his gaze taking him in one last time.

"I'll be there."

His footsteps were quiet in the hallway, his waxed shiny black shoes gleaming in his hands as he walked to the front room. He slipped on the tight shoes and looked up to his servant, who stood at the front door with a patterned, black mask.

Nodding, he grabbed the mask and slipped it inside of his jacket as well.

A kitsune.

"Safe journey."

"I'll be back tonight."

And into the car, he went, the warm smell of leather and spices filling the backseat of the self-driving car. Shouto relaxed against the black leather, his eyes staring at the road while he slipped the mask out from his jacket. There was no reason to don the mask while stepping out of the house, being caught with it at his home always smelled trouble.

In the car's silence, his fingers rested onto his lap, his lips set into a firm line while his thoughts lingered to what was to come at this party.

The last time Bakugou and Midoriya hosted anything, it had ended with an overall disaster. Thankfully then it had been for their agency's founding party and not something dealing with the organization. But before he could muster the will to seek out further information on the private event, he realized that the car was already pulling into the large mansion where the event was being held.

People emerged from the cars before his own, the sleek masks donning on their faces, keeping their identities from unwanted eyes. The covers were specially made by none other than Yaoyorozu with the assistance of Hatsume Mei to ensure that those who wore it would be unrecognizable unless they were within a certain radius.

A small puff of air escaped Shouto's lips as his car pulled up to the unloading zone, and his strong fingers slipped on the mask before the car door opened. With the confidence and power, only those who worked as a top-ranked hero had Shouto emerged from the car immediately greeted by the entrance staff.

With his hands moving to button his jacket, he nodded his head when receiving information on what to expect upon entering. Shouto felt like he nodded forever while making his way up the entrance of the event, his hand reluctantly offering his phone and wallet over and receiving a ticket for retrieving it. Of course, the ticket came the bundle of condoms.

An eyebrow arched under the mask, and Shouto couldn't help the amused smirk that befell his lips as he pocketed the condoms.

The fuckers made this a sex party.

Why they even bothered to deny that they were a cult was beyond him at this point.

But as the grand doors opened, Shouto couldn't help but tense at the room's mixing aroma.

The sweet smell of champagne bubbled in his nose, wafting in powerfully with the perfumes secreting from every person in the room. If it had been his first time at an event like this, Shouto would have missed the undertone of burning plastic in the air. His eyes followed a civilian dressed up in a zebra zentai bodysuit holding a silver powder with most definitely not cocaine to who looked like the Prime Minister since he had his mask on.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto walked further into the room, ignoring the offers of drugs and alcohol as he carried on.

"Todoroki, my man! You made it!" came the loud and energetic voice of Kaminari Denki.

It shouldn't have shocked Shouto to immediately be swarmed with who looked like Kirishima (who wore a mask resembling a bear) and Kaminari (who had his mouse resembling mask resting on around his neck), who by the smell at least, were not sober.

"You're the last one to show up, dude! We almost thought you were gonna flake!" Kirishima added, his hand coming to land on Shouto's shoulder, his lips perked into a broad smile. "Everyone else decided to join the orgy room a few minutes ago, but this guy here—" he made a pointed jab at Kaminari's chest. "Was causing a large enough disturbance that we were kicked out."

"Bro, it's not my fault that those dummy civilians can't handle a few jolts of pain!"

"You literally electrocuted everyone in that orgy and left everyone unable to speak for a solid minute, bro!"

"Everyone else is here?" Shouto interrupted rather impressed to here that even Mineta was invited to this party - or maybe he had snuck in - choosing to ignore the mention of an orgy room.

Typical cult things, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, Denki and I don't have to go in tomorrow, so we pre-gamed at his place before coming. Sero did too, but after a few minutes of talking with some trapeze girl, they went into a room and well…" Kirishima trailed off, letting Shouto put two and two together. "Mina is flirting with the crown prince, Yaomomo and Jirou are in the orgy room, Bakugou and Midoriya seem to be micromanaging everything—"

"Those two need sex the most out of the entire class! Have you ever seen a bigger work pole up anyone's asses than in those two?!" Kaminari groaned, his fingers roughly rubbing the skin of his face, and Shouto laughed softly in agreement. It was somewhat ironic that their virgin classmates were the ones who organized and put together a sex party.

"I can't begin to imagine Midoriya having sex. Although that man is basically becoming sex on legs," Kaminari continued to gripe, Shouto grunting softly in thanks when Kirishima handed him a cup filled to the near brim with a copper liquid that burned smoothly down his throat. Shouto grimaced as he managed to down the entire thing. "I can see Bakugou just blowing a hole into the wall and fucking it and considering that sex. Ain't nobody normal who can — OH MY GOD!"

Shouto looked at his friend with nearing annoyance; however, the alcohol already taking a humming effect over his body made the annoyance slip easily.

"Bro, you're gonna get us kicked out of this party, and that's gonna be the shittiest thing!" Kirishima groaned while Kaminari spazzed with what seemed to be the biggest lightbulb of an idea.

"The hoes — the holes! For the glory!" Kaminari slurred with how fast he was speaking, his hands fisting into both Shouto's and Kirishima's jackets, his yellow eyes burning bright in his excitement.

Shouto tried to keep his annoyance down, and the itch to rip Kaminari's iron grip from his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Kirishima tried again, his hand resting on Kaminari's ribcage to steady him.

"Ei, the gloryholes!"

Gloryholes?

Shouto numbing mind searched the banks of his memory to figure out where that word came from and why it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, fuck," came Kirishima's strained approval, and Shouto looked at his two friends who were grinning pervertedly at each other.

"What's that?" Shouto asked, his lips buzzing slightly as the alcohol was fully absorbed into his bloodstream, and somehow the smell of sex filled his nose, and the noises of unadulterated carnal lust filled his ears.

"Oh man, Todoroki, if you don't know," Kaminari trailed off, his lips pinched into an elfish smirk, and electricity coming off his hair in his evident excitement. "Just trust me, you gotta experience this shit!"

Shouto wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that thrummed merrily in his veins or the knowing glint in his friend's eyes that whispered to him to find out just what it was, but he felt his head nod without his full awareness. The feeling of their hands on his upper shoulder felt fuzzy as they took him away, intent heavy in every step they took.

He could barely take in the passing rooms as they went, the aerial artists, the sex rooms, the orgy rooms. There were so many rooms designated for just about every kink imaginable that even the stoic Shouto felt his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. With each passing step and opened room, the smell of sex, pheromones, and lust grew in Shouto's nose; the more the sticky sweet moans and screams of the cult members clung to his skin.

For a hero that was never too hot or too cold without his own ministrations, his skin was feeling feverishly hot with cold feet when they finally stopped in front of the only closed door in the hallway.

"Welcome!" came a cheery voice, Shouto blinked, and a woman appeared from nowhere.

She wore a powder blue ava tea dress; it was elegant, sleek, yet too old-school for an event such as this one. Shouto immediately assumed that she was not partaking in the sexual activities, but was instead acting as a hostess of sorts.

"Just you three patrons tonight?" she asked, her head tilting to the side and Kirishima speaking up in agreement for the group of three. "Good, good. We do have enough openings for the three of you, most people haven't found our little… hole in the wall, if you would," she took a moment to giggle joyfully, her gloved fingers pressing to her ruby red lips and Shouto fought the urge to walk away. "So please, feel free to look around and stay as long as you want!"

Her words were light and breezy, but still, there was rising suspicion and tension in Shouto's spine at her small quip.

With an innocuous smile and a glint in her eyes, she opened the door with a gentle, "have fun," and Shouto's friends ushered him in.

His initial reaction? What. The. Fuck?!

The room they entered was large and spacious, or well, at the very least, Shouto assumed it would have been if it wasn't for the obviously installed maze of walls. But with every wall, there was a collage of pictures. Faces of women, men, humans, mutants, everything you could think of plastered above a hole. Curiously enough, the images above one hole were of the same person.

His eyes swept the room, and he saw a few spots already taken, men with their pants and underwear dropped to their knees pressing up against the wall so that their noses were smushed to the makeshift walls.

Shouto blinked.

Gloryholes? Pictures of random people?

Were they fucking ghosts?

"This is paradise!" Kaminari groaned in pleasure, his arms spacing out as if he had come with fantastic news. "These normies always look at you so weirdly when you fuck at orgies, here… you get the nut and don't have to have them staring at you!"

Paradise?!

Shouto stared as his electricity wielding friend approached a hole that adorned photos of a girl with hooded eyes and a tongue piercing. He dropped his bottoms before sticking his hardening cock into the waiting hole with two raps of his fist. At this point, Shouto wasn't sure if what he had drunk was actually alcohol now.

"These aren't dead people, are they?" Shouto couldn't keep himself from asking, his palms sweating while Kirishima laughed deeply in his chest.

"Not at all, man, it's real people, I promise! Pick your hole and have fun!" Kirishima encouraged, placing a solid pat on Shouto's shoulder before approaching a hole with a picture of a girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

Nodding numbly to himself at this point, Shouto meandered the different walls, his eyes absorbing the various pictures on the walls.

But he fell on the spot with a picture so vivating that drew him in. The chasms of your eyes defiant yet shy, a smile that called him in, and lips that looked supple and strong.

He stood no chance in defying the itching, burning need to follow suit of every other person in this room. Shouto approached the hole, his fingers pulling at his belt, quickly lowering his charcoal grey slacks and black boxer briefs. He stared into your pictured eyes, mesmerized by them, and grasped onto his hardening cock.

A soft shudder invaded his skin as he pressed his cock through the awaiting hole, the skin of his heated cock scraping against the hole, making him strangle a grunt in his throat. But when the wet heat of your mouth enveloped his cock past the hole in the wall, Shouto's face nearly crashed against the wall.

Shouto wasn't sure what to have expected, but he had summed up that this was some over-glorified handjob, a vigorous clumsy jackoff he could have done himself. But he did not expect, in any sense of what this was, to be met with warm, wet lips and a tongue that pressed underneath the head of his cock.

A guttural noise slipped past his lips, and Shouto's palms pressed against the wall, his head spinning dizzyingly from the sensation.

Shouto's breathing was erratic, his cock hardening more, twitching within your mouth as he felt your head begin to bob against his length at a slow, leisurely pace.

His hips thrust toward the wall, his vision spinning from what this heightened sensation of what he always thought to be a mundane act. Shouto's slacks were too far up his thighs; however, the fabric spread to his max despite his attempt to lower down. He wanted to get closer to the wall, get whoever you were past this wall to take in his entire cock without an issue, so mindlessly, instinctively, he shoved the slacks further down, grunting with relieved pleasure at being able to spread out further, at getting closer to you.

"Holy shit," Shouto grunted, his forehead pressing against the cold wall, undoubtedly crinkling the paper of your photos. His hips came forward, hitting the wall dividing him and you with low, vibrating thuds, and you let him, allowed him to keep his rutting hips at the pace they were. You took him in as if it was nothing, the smooth skin of your lips gliding against his throbbing length, your tongue running alongside the bottom of his cock, tracing the veins of his skin, twisting against the sensitive skin, providing new sensations and shivers.

Shouto knew immediately that you were letting him fuck your mouth however he saw fit.

He felt you moan around him, a long, deep, undeniable noise that somehow drifted through the hole, vibrated against his cock, and could be felt against his curling toes. The sound and sensations were proving to be effective, a pooling heat building in his balls, simmering up and down his spine and neck. How he wished to grab you by the back of your head and drive his cock down your throat without mercy.

Snarling in the back of his throat, suddenly fueled by the image of fucking you, the thought of you on your knees, tears built in your bright eyes and tears rolling down your cheeks feeding him. And as if you knew what he wanted, Shouto's knees near bucked out when your mouth took him in even further, the soft choking noise, the feeling of his cock pressing against the back of your throat sending his fingers digging into the wall.

He drilled in faster, grateful for your ability to keep up, the feeling of his cock pressing down the back of your throat sending his jaw flying open, curses and praises spilling past his lips with every inch you took him further down your throat. The area of his cock unable to be taken in your mouth was surrounded by your fingers — by god, what fucking fingers you had — warm and robust, they held his skin, sliding effortlessly against the spit lubricated skin.

"You can hear me right, whore?" Shouto growled against the wall, the hot air of his breath almost fogging the area he was standing in. Somehow, he heard the choked noise of agreement, the bobbing head vigorously nodding, sending you into a sputtering choke from the awkward angle. But Shouto liked hearing you choke, liked hearing the needy tone in your whining agreement, and he swore he was feeling his heartbeat in his balls. "You're not here entirely on your own will, are you? Came here for money, to suck some rich mans' cock?" His hips stammered when you sucked your cheeks in around his length, his eyes rolling in the break of his concentration, his blood pumping in his hormone pumped euphoria. "I want you to fucking choke on my cock, you hear that? Take me all the way in, don't be scared, I know you probably don't see much cock, but I promise if you can handle me, you'll never want other cock, slut. Take me all, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

A hiccuped breath came from your side of the wall, and Shouto almost wanted to simply burn the wall down to claim you for all his need and glory, someone with a mouth as gifted as yours definitely needed to be fucked correctly. Still, his hips reigned down, slamming against the wall so that the thuds of his impeding hips were heard softly in the other areas.

And you? Behind the wall?

He could feel the weight of your head pressing forward, the feeling of his length sliding further and further down your throat. The pulsing of his cock ridiculously stilled with the restrained muscles of your throat, and the almost excessive drool and spit that dripped from his length with your choking movements.

More, he wanted more, he needed more.

"Fuck, slut, you're taking me so fucking well. You almost have me entirely in your mouth," Shouto growled, an inch or so of his cock still not entirely in your mouth, but not letting your tight fist work his cock. "Don't give up, take me all, I know a whore like you who shows up to be a sex slave can take my cock."

A whine (was that a horny or a frustrated whine?) emitted from the wall, and with a strained noise, Shouto felt your wet, hot lips make contact with the base of his cock as he continued to drill into you. Spluttering groans poured from his throat, the feeling of your hot cavern and resisting throat, sending him over the edge.

"Yes," Shouto gasped, the smell of sex, electricity, and barely burning walls simmering in his nose. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

Shouto could feel his nerves being shot out, the feeling of the compliant mouth keeping him pumping into the hole, his fingers digging further and further into the wall into it cracked and crumbled, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, to break through the wall to get to you. He was almost there, so close, but needed to get over the hill. And then Shouto was swallowed completely when his slamming his stopped, he could feel your lip press to his skin hidden by the hole. He had no doubt that it must have been sorely uncomfortable for you, yet you were doing it to the point where he was fumbling for words, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your tongue wrapped around his cock, massaging the skin. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck!"

His head dropped back with the shooting electricity in his blood, sweat dripping from his temple and you, the stranger behind the wall, gave one vicious, strong suck, your mouth only surrounding the head of his cock, your wet tongue flicking the slit on his head, and he was spilling over.

Hot, thick, heavy ropes of white cum spurted from his cock and Shouto shuddered, his shaking breath echoing in his ears, and he could still feel your tongue moving, coaxing out the finality of his orgasm, teeth scraping against his sensitive cock just enough to have him seeing stars.

But the giggle that erupted in your throat was well noticed by Shouto, and he grunted in slight annoyance. Pulling away, a soft, almost unwanted pop echoed on the other side of the wall.

Shouto watched as his spit and cum covered cock pulled back to his side of the wall, and he grunted unwillingly. His forehead still rested against the wall, and he looked up to his left side with a disgruntled noise to see that he did, in fact, scorch his fingertips into the wall.

As he tucked himself back into his underwear and slacks, Shouto's blissed-out eyes fell onto the hole where your hand was perched out of it, your pinky the only finger visible.

"Pinky promise you'll come back later?" your raspy voice asked, and Shouto wondered if that was how you usually sounded or if it was from what happened.

"As long as you promise to do something like that again," Shouto smirked, his pink taking yours anyways.

He could promise that to the hole in the wall.

Shouto slips out the door and is immediately greeted with a bummed out Kaminari and a profusely apologizing Kirishima. He later finds out that Kaminari let out yet another round of voltage of electricity (he's banned from fucking anyone that can't absorb his quirk without damaging themselves), and that Kirishima in his blissed-out state accidentally went into his unbreakable mode and tore a hole into the wall. Shouto didn't bother telling them of the scorched walls and left with his friends.

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It only felt like a few minutes before Shouto found himself outside the same closed door of the room with gloryholes. The alcohol had long since been burned from his system, he is practically positive that you managed to suck it out from his bloodstream.

For the past two hours, he had been around the mansion, aiding Kirishima in his objective to keep Kaminari from accidentally killing a sexual partner. It had been for the best, Shouto believed. He was no prude and definitely didn't hate indulging in the occasional orgies - especially at parties like this. But for some reason, as strangers attempted to shed him from his clothes, lips, and fingers roaming his scarred, heated skin, he thought of you and only you.

Your tantalizing mouth and fingers.

He had exited the orgy room faster than All Might at his peak.

He was strangely obsessed with a stranger, a person who was no more than someone past a hole in the wall. Who knew if your picture was what you looked like, but he sure hoped it was.

But when Mina had appeared out of nowhere, her perfectly manicured fingers pressing against Kirishima's chest as she emerged from behind him. She was, obviously, one of the few easily discernable members of the cult.

"So, the crown prince does not know how to use his dick, and I am disappointed in men all over again!" Mina pouted, but her usual sly grin was back on her face before Shouto could ask if she needed help scouting potential 'dick appointments' as she so fondly calls them.

This was where things got strange in that Kirishima pointed out that Mina should just fuck a woman to teach men how to fuck women properly. Kaminari filled Shouto in with a horribly done stage whisper that the two of them had fucked before and that despite the experience of any man, Mina was never truly satisfied.

"Alright, student Kirishima," Mina had thrust her finger into Kirishima's chest. "Follow me to the hole-y wall and watch the master do her job!"

Once more, Shouto was outside the door, the woman seemingly materialized from thin air in her same powder blue ava tea party dress and ruby red smile.

"Welcome back! For four patrons this time?" the woman gleefully smiled, her gloved fingers clasping below her chin.

"For one, actually," Mina spoke up first, "I'm teaching these boys—"

"I've actually never had a problem," Shouto spoke up, his calm and collected gaze unwaveringly met the hostess despite the chilling horror and embarrassment of his words that crawled up his spine. At the same time, Mina looked up him and down with a small, small smirk. "I'll be taking a spot."

"Ho ho, well, excuse me," Mina giggled, turning back to the hostess with a brightness to her stance. "Two spots then. I have boys to teach!"

"Of course!" the hostess spoke unaffectedly by the group's dynamics. "Please enjoy yourselves! This part is a special treat for you lovely patrons, don't forget to be mindful of our poor angels stuck in the wall!"

The door opened, and in the group of four walked in.

If Shouto had been taken by surprise the first time, he was beyond belief the second time he entered this same room. His first time coming, there had only been those beautiful glory holes, but this time? There were no material holes.

Where the holes used to be, there were only large holes where the person assigned to the area was now presented to the public.

Asses curved to the sky, asses pointed to the ground. Cocks leaking, limp, and red with overstimulation, cunts soaked, throbbing, and swollen with overuse. It was indeed as if these individuals had been stuck in a wall, and Shouto already felt his cock twitch in his carnal lust and need to see just how you were positioned. How he prayed that you were at your spot, laying on your stomach, ass hanging out to the world waiting for his cock to claim you, waiting for him to ruin you. He wanted to feel your liquid lust drip from your cunt, splashing and trailing down your inner thigh.

Shouto didn't bother saying goodbye to his friends, the smell of sex, and his own lust switching his brain onto a one-track mindset with the growing need to get to you immediately.

And almost to his raging hormonal anger, he came to the aisle where you were parked, and while his heart hammered with the growing pleasure to see your ass hanging in the air, your thighs pressed to the wall, his vision turned red at the sight of some no-named man rutting his ugly cock between your dry folds.

In no time flat, Shouto was behind the man, his hand fisting into the collar of the man's shirt and tearing him away from him.

"Mine." he all but growled, his aura darkening while he glared at the red-faced idiot who attempted to cover himself up in the act of running away.

It didn't matter that what Shouto did was probably entirely rude and could result in him getting thrown out, you were his, and no way was someone going to fuck you when he was there. The weirded out gazes that fell upon him temporarily did nothing to Shouto, his focus back onto your squirming bottom, no doubt weirded out by the sudden lack of contact.

But with a sigh, his fingers combing the few falling free strands of hair out of his face, Shouto stood centimeters from your shifting thighs, watching you continue squirming until he finally moved. His hands pressed against your supple, smooth ass, enjoying the way you fit against his hands perfectly.

He stepped forward, allowing the bulge of his strained cock to press against the top of your ass — the perfect height for him. Shouto leaned forward, his forehead once more pressing against the cold wall, his eyes taking in the still visible scorch marks he had left behind and chuckled deep in his throat.

"I'm back, my precious whore, I bet you missed me," Shouto spoke through the wall, hoping that you would respond back to him. He thought he could hear an agreeing sound on the other side of the wall, another layer of muffled, and he wondered if maybe you had been gagged. The thought made him exhale slowly, his hips strained from rutting against you, but against his belief, your ass ground against his hardening cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. "You did miss me, huh?"

His calloused fingers moved from your supple ass to the outsides of your thighs, feather-soft touches skimming your skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps and twitching nerves. Shouto's gaze remained hard on your body, watching how you completely stilled when he found his fingers against the inner part of your thigh and just shy of the excessive heat that was radiating from your cunt.

And he leaned down, his lips pressing against the curve of your ass, his eyes partially hooded when he felt you relax against his hold. But the relaxed position you held quickly erased the moment his teeth sunk into your skin, and his finger pressed against your swollen clit.

Immediately, your body arched, a weak attempt to buck out of his hold while he heard a muffled cry from the other end of the wall. But Shouto was a hero, he was some with extreme control over his body, and as his tongue moved to soothe your throbbing ass, one finger continued to delicately dance against your clit, while the other shifted over to your softly beating cunt.

Shouto groaned against your skin, his pants feeling too tight, the material of his underwear too hot and stiff for how strained his cock was right now, yet it was nothing to the feeling of your tight, wet, hot cunt. In and out, he pumped his finger, curling the long digit against your puffy spongey walls, the thumb on your clit circulating in slow, intentional figure-eights until you were pathetically rising and falling against his finger, a garbled whine for more barely audible through the wall. He chuckled at the feeling of your inner walls forcible clenching against his intruding finger, and he rewarded you with a second finger.

"Doesn't this feel good?" Shouto groaned, his body straightening back up so that he was flushed against your ass, his forehead resting on the wall, and his now free hand slowly grinding your ass against his crotch.

He watched you with the intensity of a predator stalking their prey, his mouth twitching into a smirk when your toes curled with a sudden drag of his fingers over a ribbed area of your core. Growling in need, Shouto's hips slammed into you, mindlessly fucking you even with his clothes on. His fingers doubled in speed and intensity until the rapid clenching of your walls was unignorable around his fingers.

His forearms ached slightly with his continued fingering, his thumb almost stiff as he continued to assault your clit, but with the arching of your back, the stuttering of your hips as an impeding orgasm was growing bigger and stronger. Shouto barely registered the sight of his own hand rising and falling heavily onto your ass, the sound of the spank echoing loudly, but that had pushed you over the edge.

A loud mewl sounded from the wall, your legs trembling entirely uncontrollably against Shouto, who still drove his hard crotch into your soaked cunt. He didn't care if you were to wet the expensive suit, his mind now solely on the fact that he needs to claim you, needs to sink his cock all the way in, and make sure you were bruised for days to come.

Wasting no time, Shouto sheds off his pants and his underwear, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud before aligning his already hard and swollen cock head to your clenching, sopping cunt. Shouto nearly shivers as he grips his fingers into your ass, his eyes mesmerized with how your flesh molds to his grasp, moving and shifting accordingly. With only a moan as a warning, Shouto wasted no time in pressing his cock to your cunt, and thrusting in with a single, sharp thrust.

If he had thought your cunt was tight with just your fingers, if he had thought the instance where you had vacuumed your mouth while sucking him off was tight, he was in a world of surprises when he came through from entering you. Your cunt was hot and oh so fucking tight around him, milking him dry of all and any precum that he had gathered at his swollen slit. Your inner walls flutter around him, intensely and quickly trying to adjust to the monstrous thickness that he was, and he could hear the pained panting pleasure of you through the wall, and he almost lost it at the keen whine on your tongue.

He shifted, moving his hips just so slight as to regain what little sanity he had left to ensure that you were thoroughly and roughly fucked.

"Fuck," Shouto moaned, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, his skin feeling sticky and sweaty as he felt you continue trembling beneath him. "For a fucking whore, you have a really tight cunt. I bet you wished I had used fucking lube, huh?"

Shouto took a tentative thrust into you, his legs quivering at the feeling of the way your cunt gripped his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move as he did. "Should've made your pussy wetter then," he spoke in a near whisper to the wall, unsure if you had heard him as he began his conquest in fucking you.

With his fingers gripping your hips, he enjoys the way you bruise against his hold, almost as much as he enjoys the way the wall rocks with every slam of his brutal hips.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping cunt send loud, wet noises ringing in his ears, sending a few other nearby patrons to turn their heads to look at him - to look at him in his conquest of claiming you as his. It only fueled him on, and he picked up his pace until there was a medley of sounds: his thighs crashing against your ass, the squelching of your wet cunt against his thick cock, and your thighs slapping the wall.

Shouto growled at the feeling of your cunt stretching for him, the tremble of your legs, the way your feet twisted and curled against his knees, almost as if in a silent beg to get him impossibly closer, to make him fuck you impossibly faster, harder.

His gorging fingers break your skin, and Shouto delights in the painful, garbled scream from your side of the wall. Your body is weak against him, yet he can still feel your hips jutting against his rutting hips, your body desperately trying to keep up with his insane speed and lust.

And when his hand presses to your lower back and the other right above your crotch so that he can raise you higher, the new angle of penetration sends Shouto fumbling for strength. It's then he can feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, your toes digging into his skin as he continues to pound away at your cervix, and he takes the rolling shrieks and moans from your mouth like a good thing.

"Such a good fucking whore, I never found many of you who enjoyed when I literally rearranged their guts," Shouto huffed, his fingers tweaking and yanking at your clit until you were shaking in his arms. "You're enjoying this so much, I bet you wanted this the entire time after I left, didn't you? You wanted my cock in your pussy, I wanted to have my seed pumped into you until everyone knows that you're mine. You'd look so pretty pregnant with my babies, your stomach swollen, and your tits just fucking leaking milk for our children, huh?"

It's then that your cunt around his cock becomes a vice grip, and Shouto shudders at the feeling of your orgasm rocking through you, your pathetic keens barely audible in his blood rushing ears. And he continues, Shouto could feel the familiar sensation of his nerves being shot out, the feeling of your cunt desperately trying to milk him of his seed and worth as you grew limper in his arms, his fingers raking raised lines against your ass, forever marking himself against you, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, his mind solidifying over the need to somehow appear where you were now so he could fuck you with no restraint. He thought of your crossed eye gaze, the possible spit pouring from your mouth as you took his every drop of seed greedily into your cunt. He imagined seeing your eyes spilling with tears, seeing your fingers rip into the fabric as he fucked you with no restraint, and with his imagination, he lost himself.

Shouto continued to blindly ram his cock into your cunt, a savage, insane last attempt to spill himself into you, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your cunt pathetically clenched against his hammering cock, finally sending his left hand to the wall, fire bursting from his palm as finally his orgasm tears through him. Shit, shit, "Shit!"

Shouto's temples are damp with sweat, and his vision swims with his overwhelming desire for you and the need to get to your room without destroying the wall to completion.

He picks up his pants and underwear, quickly fixing himself up so that he's almost remorse in the way that he can't appreciate watching his cum spill from your cunt, but the lack of you on his cock is enough to have him zipping up his pants and racing to where the hostess appears.

She doesn't stand a chance when both fire and ice bite against her neck.

"How do I get into the rooms?"

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

After being caught flirting with whoever you had pinky promised, you had been gagged. It wasn't a bad thing per se, that man had been the last person to visit you when the room was still functioning as glory holes. With the new stuck in the wall theme, it only invited men and women to be aggressive, and a part of you guiltily and ashamedly enjoyed how rough they would get in there attempt to hear you against the gag.

But you couldn't help the flutter in your cunt and in your heart when the familiar voice of the pinky promise man sounded through the wall. Right now, however, your body felt wholly and thoroughly used. Every inch of your asscheeks and cunt was abused, but the orgasm that came with his fucking was otherwordly.

There was still nothing to prevent the shameful clog in your throat when he abandoned you after a single orgasm, but then again, you didn't expect the door to your cubicle to be thrown open, and a man stood there with a black kitsune mask. You wondered who it was, but there was the distinctive, infamous red and split white hair behind the cover, and you whimpered at the sudden shame at being caught like this by a Pro Hero you absolutely adored.

The mask was torn from his face, the door closing behind him, and you were ripped back into the tight cubicle, pressed flush against his chest as he sealed off the hole with his ice. You were speechless as his obviously hard cock pressed against your diaphragm, and you trembled upon hearing the zipper of his pants coming down.

And the voice of one Todoroki Shouto sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the flame in your cunt.

"I got to fuck your mouth and your cunt through other people's rules, I think it's about time I get to fuck you however I see fit."

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

2K notes · View notes

allthingsarmin · 3 years

Note

fckboy armin? + degredation is always a good combination <3

I was so excited to write this dose of Armin brainrot, omg 😩

If it’s alright with you, anon, I did this request in more of a headcanon format, but the ending is more of a fanfiction format. I’m also sorry I took so long to write this omg.

MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

TW: Mentions of NSFW topics + degradation, mean!armin, manipulation, fuckboy topics

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin whose style resembles that of the horny, manipulative, ghost-y men on campus yet is just too hot for you to handle. The way he wears dark silver rings on his left thumb, middle, and pointer fingers that accentuate his slender, pale fingers and clean-cut nails. The way the small, dark tattoos on his knuckles, right forearm, and collarbone add an aura of mystery and aggression to his being that just exudes sex. The way he wears a gold chain necklace with distressed jeans and a plain t-shirt that’s just a little too tight and shows off his pecks. Or the way he wears long black joggers and an oversized long-sleeve black shirt that makes him look taller. The way he doesn’t wear his mask correctly, always hanging on one of his ears which compliment his stud earrings and devilish smirk. The way he is broke because he’s always spending money on the newest, trendy shoes. The way he always uses way too much cologne… One look at him, and you can sense his ‘asshole attitude,’ but you can’t deny it makes your lower regions pulsate.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who’s body is so perfectly sculpted and toned that it leaves you thinking dirty thoughts in class. The way he sits in class with his sleeves rolled up, laying back relaxed in the chair, right leg bouncing out of boredom as his hard cock becomes noticeable in his grey sweatpants makes you want to run to your dorm and touch yourself. The way his abs call out to you to graze your fingertips against them when he lifts his shirt up to wipe away the sweat after walking home from the gym. The way his beautifully slender fingers hold his phone or push his hair back when he’s frustrated makes you think about how good they would feel inside you. The way his accentuated collarbone peaks through his thin t-shirts, allowing you to see the hickeys and imprints of love bites from god knows how many women makes you jealous. The way his skin is so pale and so soft that his blonde leg hair becomes barely noticeable. The way his golden hair brings out a plethora of the shades of blue in his eyes, and oh how his haircut suits him perfectly, shaping his jawline very well. How his beautiful blue eyes dangerously lure you into him, the soft but manipulative stares he gives you. How he can’t seem to maintain eye contact with you for more than three seconds because he looks at your breasts. The sinister yet sexy smiles he has plastered upon his face when talking with his friends about ‘some other whore’ he fucked the other day… Armin is attractive, and he knows he is attractive. Though you hate how arrogant his looks have made him, his suggestive stares and lip bites from such a handsome man make your heart flutter and mind only focused on one thing.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is always posting thirst traps on instagram. You know… The pictures with the squinted eyes and the bitten lower bottom lip, either showing off his money or new shoes, pictures beside a nice car, suggestive pictures with the new girls he’s been fucking recently, biting his chain necklaces because he thinks it’s sexy. Only follows ‘successful’ men and offensive meme accounts but mostly follows half-naked women and supermodels. Leaves nasty comments on ugly womens’ pictures, calling them whores while he’s in hot girls’ DMs sending unsolicited dick pics and asking for nudes. Has thousands of followers, mostly from the party girls and rude men who go to his college. Won’t let you tag him in a photo unless he ‘looks hot.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes slutty gym pictures with his shirt off, abs out, shorts low enough to see his V line, hands in his hair, and a wink. Sends it to every girl in his snapchat contacts and posts it on his story with the ‘slide up’ text.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who hits you with the “you up?” at 2am on snapchat after ghosting you for two months. Tells you how much he misses your lewd moans and sloppy cunt, and then after pressuring you to give him nudes, he saves them and then doesn’t talk to you for at least a week.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who is so intelligent and dangerously manipulative. Who is so smart that he doesn’t need or want to pay attention in class, who convinces you to let him keep the nudes you sent him on snapchat, who reels you right back in when you try to move on from him.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who was nice to you at first, befriending you when you looked so alone, shy, and innocent, who only chose you because you looked so easy to take advantage of when he finally closes in on you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who says he doesn’t want ‘any of that relationship stuff’ because all of his exes were crazy and that he only wants to date hot chicks.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who only texts you at ungodly hours during the weekdays and plays games like ‘20 questions’ with you so he can ask you if you’re either a virgin or a whore, if you like oral, if you’ve thought about him in dirty ways before… or truth or dare, asking you if you if you want to be his slut or daring you to send him lewd pictures of yourself.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who takes every chance he can get to turn anything sexual: the way your skirt is just a little too short that makes him suddenly grab your upper thighs, the way you innocently lick your ice cream cone on a hot summer day - he tells you to put your tongue on his cock instead, how you put your hair up in a high ponytail just makes him want to pull on it and kiss the crook of your neck… it all leaves him clouded with dirty thoughts.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who calls you ‘babe’ and refers to you as his ‘girl’ even though he has a million bitches on the side.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who makes you feel like shit about yourself because he’s constantly sending you womens’ profiles on Instagram, saying you should look more like them and ‘get a nicer ass.’

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who becomes more controlling as your sexual relationship continues, basically forcing you to let him check your phone in case you're messaging other dudes and being naughty for men besides him but gets defensive when you want to see his phone.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who refuses to eat you out but expects you to praise his cock with your slutty mouth and wet tongue.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t really care about your personal problems or pain, and whenever you tell him you’re hurting on the inside, he offers to let you come over to his house so that he can fuck you: “once my cock is inside you again, you’ll forget all about your sadness.”

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who doesn’t use condoms because he ‘can’t feel anything’ when he wears them, so he just assumes that you’re on birth control when he cums inside you.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who violates your privacy when he’s online gaming with his closest friends, Eren and Jean, as he tells them through the microphone about how tight and wet your pussy is and how much you enjoy being treated like a slut, your mouth full of his cock and pussy dripping with his cum… going as far as sending secretive videos he took of you to them where you’re whimpering and begging for Armin’s cock.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who pressures you to do risky things you don’t want to do, but you just can’t find the courage to say no to him when he stares at you with his intense blue eyes… like when he asks you to sit next to him in the back of the class then without your approval, sneaks his slender fingers into your panties and starts harshly playing with your clit. He devilishly smirks as you try to suppress your cries of disapproval. Or like when he convinces you to let him take videos of you when you’re in a position that exposes your slick cunt to him so well. Or even how he manipulates you into trying something new that you’ve never been comfortable with, like swallowing his thick cum, letting him put you in a full-nelson, maybe letting him choke you while he spits in your mouth.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who finally closes in on you, begging you to help him study for the upcoming test since he wasn’t paying attention in class because ‘you’re just so distracting’ to him, acting so smart and innocent and respectably in front of the teacher when Armin really knows that your slutty outfits and wet pussy says otherwise… so you excitedly go over to his dorm, thankful that finally it will be a normal get-together where you could actually find out more about Armin instead of finding out more about how he likes his cock sucked. Upon entering his dorm, it is apparent that he never planned on studying with you as his textbooks are nowhere to be found, and he is sitting on the couch half-naked with Netflix on the TV.

ᵔᴥᵔ “Oh hey, y/n, didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” he says nonchalantly. You unknowingly stare at his broad shoulders, his strong chest, and of course his V-line that is not hard to miss as he carelessly talks shit about his teachers. “See something you like?” arrogance seething from his teeth as he brushes back his blond hair. You don’t say anything as your face grows red. He takes your hand and leads you to the couch. “Come on, let’s watch something.”

ᵔᴥᵔ The sound of skin slapping drowns out the voices on the TV. You don’t even know how Armin managed to get you into this position again where you’re so submissive under him, giving into him yet again. He flips you over on your back, and he props himself up, looking over your figure that’s so pathetically displayed below him. You can see his angelic hair stick to his forehead as the sweat drips down his soft but sharp cheeks. The look in his eyes has gone dark, and his smile is sinister as if he was a predator about to devour a prey. He wickedly laughs as you grind your needy cunt against his hard cock. This is where he really gets mean.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin loves to degrade you like the whore you are, constantly reminding you just how easy you are to take advantage of, how easy you are to win over with just some dick, how easy it is to make your sloppy cunt squirt and tingle from multiple orgasms, how easy it is to make you whimper and beg for his thick cock to make a complete mess of your pussy.

ᵔᴥᵔ “You really didn’t think I invited you over just to study, did you?” he snickers as he cruelly and slowly thrusts into your aching cunt, making eye contact with you and grinning as your face turns red. He grabs your throat, choking you, and begins to thrust faster which pulls shaky moans from under your breath. He inches close to your ear and whispers, “you even came over here without wearing underwear under that short skirt of yours…” he switches to the other ear, “and when I started touching your dirty cunt during the movie, you were already so wet,” you shiver at his words. He pulls back and gives you a gentle slap with his left hand, his rings stinging your face, and uses his right hand to twist your perky nipples. He begins to laugh, “but I’m not surprised that a filthy slut like you - my filthy slut - would think of such impure thoughts during something as innocent as watching a movie.” Armin leans closer to your face again, still thrusting into you at a quick pace. His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin. He harshly grabs your mouth and tells you to open, which you submissively comply with, and he spits into your mouth which causes you to whimper. He smacks the side of your thigh. “You like being treated like some depraved slut don’t you?” You don’t reply, but the fluttering in your tight pussy says otherwise. He flips you onto your stomach, your breasts mushing into the couch, and without warning, he forces his girthy cock into your tight pussy. He is thrusting into you at an ungodly pace, making you scream and moan incoherent words. “What’s my little slut saying? Use your words, baby,” he teases. At this point, you can only call out his name. “A-armin…” He begins to torturously thrust into that one spot, and within seconds, you're bucking your hips, intensely squirting onto his couch and leaving a sopping wet dark spot. “Fucking whore, gonna have to buy a new couch because you can’t control your filthy cunt,” he growls into your ear. He quickly flips you over onto your back again, wanting to see your face. Your face is contorted with such pleasure; your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your mouth is wide open with drool dripping down your jaw. Armin shudders, his cock getting even harder in your tight pussy. “So hot… such a lewd slut.” He immediately brings out his phone, taking a picture. “Want me to show my friends what a cock-hungry whore you are?” You quickly nod. “So fucking pathetic,” he snarls. “I’m going to destroy your cunt, slut.” He shoves his warm tongue in your mouth, gently grabbing the hair on your foggy head. “I’m gonna break you in so bad,” he mumbles, wiping the tears from your face.

ᵔᴥᵔ fuckboy!armin who maybe in fact does want to have that ‘relationship shit’ with you ~

__________________________

Requests are open, and feedback is appreciated <3

#armin arlert #armin x reader #aot x reader #armin smut #aot smut

207 notes · View notes

pxnk-velvet · 4 years

Note

Hello! Hope you're doing well! So. Ok. So I'm on my pms. I'm in pain and I'm horny af at the same time so fml 🤦‍♀️ . I need some Kakashi smut x fem!reader. I'm sucker for this cold-blooded bastard, who thinks he never finds love and then he is melting in her embrace 🥲

Luv ya 💗

ALL YOURS [NSFW!]

Kakashi Hatake x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n. The women that everyone wanted, until Kakashi got his hands on her. To this day, he still couldn’t fathom the things she made him feel.

Warnings: nsfw!, overstimulation, squirting, intended for mature readers only

shawty! this? THIS??? 🖐🏼🥵🥵🥵 this is probably some of the hottest stuff i have ever written lmao 😭 for reallllll. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated 😊

He was completely enamored with her. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her being. Everything about her was just so hypnotizing. From the way she spoke, plump lips morphing around each syllable, to the way she walked, frame held beautifully as her hips swayed with a natural rhythm. Her skin, delicate and smooth under the touch of his own calloused hands. Her eyes holding so much emotion and so many secrets, drawing in people with just one glance.

Typically Kakashi Hatake wasn’t a man to brag about the things he had or skills he owned. However, with her by his side, he couldn’t help but smirk under his mask knowing that so many other people had pinned after his beloved.

Y/n L/n.

A notorious name known to the hidden leaf and beyond. One of the best kunoichi to ever come from Konoha. Praised and loved by all. Often set as example for many of the young ninja in training. Sought out by both men and women for friendship, love, sex, and other things.

Yet after years and years, she never gave in to the countless offers of love and devotion. Only resorting to giving the lucky person a single night of ecstasy. Leaving them in the morning, only to return home with a stronger yearning for one man. For years she had eyes for him. Growing up and honing a sturdy friendship that lasted decades. Along with their growing bond, grew their feelings for one another.

Quick glances turned into lingering stares. Stories being told whenever they locked eyes, not a single word spoken. Simple touches seemed to last longer than they usually did. A deep desire and passion behind each one. Only up until recently had they come to terms with one another, finally being able to confess after all this time.

Now, Kakashi sat in the hot spring’s warm waters, his gaze trained on his girlfriend relaxing beside him. The mission they had been sent on, now completed early and taken care of. They figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay for one more night and enjoy the hot springs.

His eyes ate up the sight of her. The way her skin held a thin sheen of sweat and condensation, shining in the moonlight. A few strands of hair sticking to her forehead, cheeks, and neck. Lips parted slightly, head tilted back, chest rising and falling gently.

It was ludicrous, really. The way he was looking at her with no shame at all. Eyes raking over ever dip and curve of exposed skin. Focusing particularly on her breasts, the water moving around them, bobbing to become accustomed to their shape. His lustful stare was intense as his eyes continuously absorbed the sight in front of him, yet the whole time she could feel it. With his eyes trained on her, she peeked open one of her own as a shudder ran up her spine, catching a glimpse him.

His hair dampened by the steam, chest glistening in a way that drove Y/n to new heights. The defined muscles accentuated in the moonlight. Nothing but a single, small towel was covering his face, replacing his usual mask. Y/n had insisted that it was alright for him to take it off, yet he still felt obligated just in case some lone stranger decided to stroll in at the dead of night.

“My eyes are up here, you know.” Y/n teased, lifting her head to look straight at Kakashi. The eye contact sending a strike of arousal through both of them. The ache between their legs only getting worse.

“Yeah,” Kakashi mused, eyes flickering down for a second before coming back up with a smirk, “You just look so good like this. I seriously don’t know what I did to deserve a woman like you.” His voice hung in the air like a song, Y/n melting at his words with an adorable giggle.

The water rippled around them as Y/n shifted to settle herself over his lap. Her thighs sat snuggly over his, chest to chest as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her breasts against him teasingly, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, a tall tell sign that she wanted him.

“I think....” She began, shifting slightly in Kakashi’s lap, “That we should head back to the room for a little while.” Her words coated in desire as she spoke, looking deeply into his eyes, telling him exactly what she wanted.

Kakashi hummed in agreement as his hands moved to rest on her bare hips, squeezing instinctively as she lightly swiveled her pelvis. All the while the water swayed around them in rhythmic movements.

Without a single word, Kakashi removed the towel covering the lower half of his face, slowly pulling her in for a kiss. Lips slotting together comfortably like so many times before. In a way that if anyone saw, their jealousy was guaranteed. Kakashi really was a lucky man, and he knew it.

The kiss was hot, full of lust and passion as their hands roamed over wet, warm skin. With parted lips, their tongues danced sinfully. All senses heightened, being stimulated simultaneously.

He was like putty in her hands, shivering whenever her fingertips danced over certain spots on his body, blood rushing to his length by the second. Never did Y/n think Kakashi’s body would be so reactive to her touch. Soon she felt his length press against her lower abdomen, chuckling lightly.

“Come on,” She pulled away reluctantly, feeling him resist slightly, “You’re the one who insisted on wearing a mask even though there’s not a single soul here besides us.” A smile teased on her lips as he held her impossibly closer.

A playful sigh left his lips, groaning, “I suppose you’re right....” A flirty tone laying underneath his words, “But we’re already here. To go back to the room we would need to get up, put our clothes back on, only for us to take them off again seconds later.”

The moment he spoke those words, a mischievous smirk etched onto Y/n’s plump lips, an idea blossoming in her head.

Not even a minute later, two of the most respectable ninja of the Hidden Leaf were dashing down the hallway of a lone motel, completely naked, clothes slung over their shoulders as they tried their hardest not to burst out into loud laughter.

The door swung open as the couple rushed in, the air becoming thick with tension as they caught their breath. A small thud could be heard as they threw their clothes elsewhere. Now standing in the middle of the room, eyes locked in an intense gaze, chests raising and falling as they reciprocate from the antics they just partook in.

This feeling of lightness as well as lust swirled around in Kakashi’s chest, something he lived for. The way she made him feel like he was on top of the world with every passing moment was something he craved. The high he gets whenever he was with her was addictive. Something he never thought he’d get to experience in his lifetime. He didn’t ever plan on stopping either.

Within seconds, they has stumbled their way onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs. Kakashi situated over her frame as his hands moved to wrap her legs around his waist while they were captured in a heated kiss. With this proximity, their skin was warm to the touch as arousal pooled between Y/n’s legs. Now his lips ghosted over her jaw and continued further on to her neck and collarbones.

A delighted sigh fell from her lips as Kakashi ran his tongue over the area he just marked, lips soft as he sucked on the spot that he knew made her go weak in the knees. All the while she managed to snake a hand between their bodies, taking hold of his member, grazing her thumb over the tip and pumping it a few times. His cock felt heavy in her hands as the veins throbbed under her touch. Kakashi wanted nothing more than for her to cast her magic spell and drive him wild.

“Kakashi...” She whispered, bucking her hips up, “I need you.” Her hand trailed up his abdomen, the muscles going taunt under her fingertips as they continued up and into his hair.

“Anything for you.” He mused, his chest inflating, knowing what he was getting himself into. He ran his length through her folds, a pretty moan falling from her lips as he did so, collecting her wetness.

Kakashi hissed at how tight she was, squeezing around his tip mercilessly, almost enticing him in. Y/n’s mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as her walls stretched to accommodate to his size.

It was euphoric, the way she felt. Velvety walls clamping up whenever he withdrew to thrust forward again. One hand gripping the bed sheets beside her while the other was clasped onto her hip.

As his pelvis continued to snap into hers at a steady pace, her breasts bobbed with each thrust. A sight Kakashi would never get tired of seeing.

“Fuck....” He sighed, hand releasing the sheets to take hold of one of her breasts, “You feel so good.” His lips brushed against her with each word, colliding soon after in a messy kiss, consisting of teeth and tongue.

He could feel her orgasam starting to build. The muscles in her lower abdomen contracting as the coil in her core tightened, Kakashi hitting just the right spot. That spongy little spot that held the key to a mind shattering orgasam.

“Kakashi, please!” Y/n whined, teeth grinding as her eyes were squeezed shut, “Fuck, I wanna cum! Make me yours.” With those words, something snapped inside of him, completely gone and focused on only one thing.

Kakashi made quick movements, shifting so he could grab the back of her thighs and press them to her chest. At the new feeling the position change brought, they nearly lost their minds. Y/n’s walls growing impossibly tighter as Kakashi thrusted into her even deeper.

Y/n’s legs dangled in the air as Kakashi held her thighs, pistoning his hips into hers with incredible speed. The squelching of her wetness echoed in the room as she creamed around his cock. Hot tears running down her cheeks as the intense orgasam rushing over her. Incoherent babbles and words leaving her mouth as he worked her through the high.

“Come on, baby,” Kakashi praised, “Just hold on for me for a little bit longer, ok?” He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, licking the tears his lips picked up when he pulled away.

With that he worked quick, taking deep and strong strokes as he paced for his own climax. While doing so, Y/n felt another one quickly creeping up on her.

“Fuck, Kakashi! I’m cumming again.” She cried out, the ballon in her core bursting. Her tight cunt spraying all over his thighs and stomach, squeezing him so tight it was almost painful, triggering his own release. He pressed her thighs down, closer to her chest, holding his hips as close as he could to her hot skin. His tip kissing her cervix, painting it with pretty white strands of his cum.

He gently let down her legs, hissing as he pulled out. Y/n whining quietly at the empty feeling, the mixture of their cum leaking out of her cunt and onto the sheets below.

“You did so good, babe,” Kakashi sang, a tired smile etched on his face, arms moving to wrap around her midsection, “You’re the only woman in the world that could make me feel this good.” His words sweet, sounding like music in her ears as she chuckled softly, pulling him in for a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Kakashi Hatake.” She mused against his lips. Running her fingers through his messy hair, eyes now blown with love and admiration.

His smile grew even wider, hand coming up to caress her face, “I love you too, Y/n L/n. More than you know.”

#kakashi smut #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi sensei #kakashi

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anthemxix · 3 years

Note

I had an angsty interesting idea and thought you’d maybe like to hear it (since you’re a fan of Wars and Time bonding)

Time and Warriors get separated from the group and are fighting a big ol’ horde of monsters when Time gets hit hard. Like, he-needs-a-fairy-NOW hard. And Wars knows he can’t protect Time while fighting off all these monsters, he’s horribly outnumbered without him, he needs help, he needs more power-

Then he remembers the Fierce Diety mask.

anon, thank you for thinking of me!! i do adore these two bonding! <3 hope you enjoy this little thing i wrote~ uwu

The realization that this ragtag monster horde was capable of implementing a coordinated battle plan carries myriad unsettling implications, but Warriors puts all that aside for later consideration. Right now, he’s rather more preoccupied with his other realization: he and Time are kind of fucked.

Separated from the other heroes by the latest portal (and maybe that was all part of the enemies’ strategy, too?), Time and Warriors are severely outnumbered, two to two dozen. The only reason they haven't lost already is because they've managed to stay back-to-back, fighting together fluidly, watching each other's blind spots. Everything they're doing is purely defensive, purely reactionary, and their stamina is quickly getting whittled away by endless waves of brutal attacks.

And maybe their draining stamina is why there's a slip-up. Warriors hopes that's why there's a slip-up, because he can't bear the idea that his carelessness caused whatever just happened behind him to make Time shout in agony.

Warriors whirls around just as Time crumples to his knees. He steps in front of the Old Man in time to block the heavy stroke of a darknut's broadsword. The blunt impact forces him back half a foot. He grits his teeth and smashes his shield into the darknut's helmet as it winds up for another strike. Armor rattling, the monster stumbles back, briefly stunned.

Swinging around, Warriors throws out his shield against the thrust of a lizalfos' spear, but both weapon and shield collide instead with a translucent blue wall that materializes between them. Sapphire-colored and diamond-shaped, the sudden barrier surprises Warriors for a second before he remembers a child casting the same spell on battlefields some years ago.

"Can't hold it for long," Time says, voice strained, as he presses one hand against his side. Warriors drops down next to him, ignoring the sounds of baffled and angry monsters pounding on the barrier encasing them, and pulls Time's hand away to reveal a terribly deep gash.

Time coughs, and a trail of blood mars his chin. Cursing, Warriors carelessly rips a swatch from his scarf and stuffs it into the wound in the hopes of slowing the bleeding.

"Give it to me," he blurts before he knows what he's saying. His conscious mind takes a moment to catch up to his mouth, but then he feels it. Beneath the clean, blessed magic that Time exudes beats the pulse of something darker, something that wormed into Warriors’ mind without him even noticing.

Suddenly, Warriors knows with certainty how this fight is going to end. He reaches for Time's satchel without awaiting an answer. The Old Man clamps a surprisingly firm hand onto Warriors' wrist.

"No," he says, the tremble in his voice belying the sternness of his tone. "I won't allow it."

The magic, which feels like frenzy barely contained, wraps more securely around Warriors' heart. He wonders how it leaked into him without his consent, how it made him its pawn before he even considered using the mask.

"It's our only choice." Warriors drapes his other hand on top of Time's. The barrier around them flickers, disappearing for half an instant.

Time retrieves the mask from his bag without looking, like he knows exactly where it is. In the open, the mask's alluring magic is more potent. It feels like chaos masquerading as calm, like a threat camouflaged as salvation.

"I could do it," Time weakly offers, even as more blood beads on his lips, as more color drains from his wan face, as resignation clouds his eye.

When Warriors' fingers graze the mask's smooth wood, a shock runs along his spine, prickles the hair on his arms and the back of his neck. The faded red and blue lines that mirror Time's remind him that dabbling with something this powerful has irreversible consequences. In an odd moment of detached lucidity, Warriors recognizes that after he puts on this mask, his life is never going to be the same.

But as he takes the cursed object, he looks down at Time's weeping gash, poorly plugged by blood-drenched scraps of scarf, and feels at peace with his decision.

"I'll be fine, Sprite," he says. "Just promise me you'll be fine, too."

As Time's spell withers and the blue diamond barrier shatters, Warriors puts on the mask.

He's dropped into an abyss that somehow feels both bottomless and claustrophobic. He can't see or hear or touch any more, can't feel his body or what he's doing; he's confined to his mind, condemned to an inky, oceanic emptiness that is filling up with poisonous magic. The deity's overwhelming presence invades more and more of Warriors' mental space, grappling for control.

And it hurts. It's agonizing, the way the subjugating magic bleeds into his every crevice, sunders him at his seams. Peels him apart layer by layer. Breaks him down to his basest pieces. Divides. Consumes.

Rational thought disappears; his darkness is lit only by instinct now, and his instinct tells him to fight. So Warriors resists. As puny and piteous a creature as he is compared to the deity's wrath, he resists, struggling to retain a foothold in his own mind.

And just as abruptly as this hellish internal fight begins, it ends. Full consciousness slams back into Warriors with merciless force. The world seems like a hazy mess of colors and light that he can't decipher. His body feels foreign, and he can't distinguish, spatially, where he is, what he's doing. He thinks he's standing--no, he's falling--

Warriors tumbles back into something solid. Someone solid, who secures their arms around his middle and lowers him to the ground. Dizzy and muddled, he squints up at the concerned face hovering above him. Twilight. The Rancher's mouth is moving, but the words are distant and incomprehensible.

Simply holding his head up is a strain, and Warriors lets himself go limp in Twilight's arms. Through blurry vision, he can see the signs of a massacre: the decimated remains of all those monsters, strewn around the battlefield. He vaguely registers Twilight's fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse, and Twilight's hands running along his limbs, his torso, feeling for injuries.

There's a swirl of red and pink in his periphery. Legend, not bothering to conceal his concern, appears on one side of him. He's speaking, too, and though the words sound a bit clearer than before, Warriors still doesn't understand. Exhausted, he doesn't worry about it, and lets his eyes slip closed.

Twilight and Legend's conversation drones over his head as comforting white noise, and the Rancher's steady breaths begin to lull him to sleep. Then something tugs at his hand, and he pries his eyes open, annoyed, to see Legend trying to take the mask from him.

Warriors blinks down at the cursed item, surprised to see it still clasped in his fist, his unyielding fingers coiled through the eye holes.

"Let go of this damn thing, Pretty Boy," Legend says when he sees Warriors' eyes are open. The Captain can't decide if Legend's voice is actually quiet or if it still sounds weirdly far away. Regardless, he loosens his hold and watches Legend take the mask, grimace at it with a mix of revulsion and anger, and artlessly toss it out of view.

"Captain?"

Turning his heavy head, Warriors finds Wind kneeling at his other side. His expression is all unrefined concern, the watery eyes and exaggerated compassion of a child. Warriors wants to comfort him, but he can hardly move at the moment. He supposes speaking is out of the question, too.

"Are you okay?" the Sailor asks, taking up Warriors' hand in both his own.

Getting no reply, Wind glances between Twilight and Legend. "Why isn't he saying anything? He's okay, isn't he?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Twilight replies. It's a stilted, rote response that holds little conviction. Warriors thinks that should bother him, but he's too tired to care.

"What about those?" Wind says, nodding towards Warriors.

On reflex, Twilight brushes his fingers against the Captain's cheek, looking sadly at whatever is there. "The magic imprinted on him, but he wasn't changed for long. The marks will fade."

Marks? Warriors tunes out the rest of the conversation, trying to deduce what marks they're referring to--until he pictures the red and blue lines tattooed onto--

Time. Warriors twitches, wanting to sit up, wanting to ask after the Old Man. Legend puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, instructs him not to move. Still, he swivels his head around, trying to squint through the still-indistinct mass of shapes and lights that make up the world beyond his little sphere.

Finally, he sees, past Wind, the rest of their troupe. As Warriors is with Twilight, Time is reclined against Sky, with Four and Wild on either side of him. Hyrule is bent over him, hands aglow with golden healing magic that surges into the dangerous wound on Time's side.

Warriors tries to focus on the Old Man's face, and his eyes finally adjust enough that he can see Time, grim and weary, looking straight back at him. He looks sad, Warriors thinks. Sympathetic. Pitying.

It's off-putting, and Warriors looks away. He closes his eyes again and sinks back into Twilight, deciding for now that he'll pretend this is a nightmare, and soon, he'll wake up somewhere else with his soul and mind intact. Yes, he thinks, he’ll let himself pretend for a little while.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu warriors #warriors #fanfic #anthem answers #anthem writes

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nebulous-library · 4 years

Note

PLEASE TALK ABOUT ADAM TOO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Thank you for actually asking about my Spicy Adam headcanons oh my god

Disclaimer before anyone tries to like, mow my ass for this, I am not condoning his behaviors and I am not excusing anything. The moral of this is that A.) I am horny and have a plethora of darker kinks that I feel like he would meet, and B.) he’s a snacc. I don’t pick characters to thirst over based on their moral alignment, I pick the ones that make me able to feel my heartbeat in my pussy.

And now without further ado, I present to you....Adam thirst:

First thing about Adam is that he gives me MAJOR Tsukiyama Shuu vibes and.....ngl my first ever sex dream was about Tsukiyama, so that like, genre of character has a special kind of spice for me.

We know Adam is bad at expressing love/lust in a healthy manner, but we didn’t come to this post to think about him in a healthy scenario. We’re here because we want Adam to absolutely yearn for us.

So imagine, if you will, meeting the charming businessman Mr. Shindo, and ofc he has something about him that steals your heart a little. The flair, the panache, the little twinkle in his eye and the smooth tone of his voice. Maybe he makes your heart flutter a little, but you have no idea what he’s thinking about a cute little thing like you. Don’t think he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks flush or how you avoid his gaze or how you’re tripping over your own tongue. It makes him want to make a mess out of you.

Maybe by some coincidence you end up at S that night, and he has cameras on you. He plans to make an appearance at the track, where you don’t quite recognize him, but you definitely take notice of the Matador of Love and the passion he puts into his skating. Maybe you lock eyes at one point and you can’t be sure, but you think you saw him wink at you.

Little do you know that he’s communicated with Tadashi to have you uh, relocated. You aren’t quite sure what’s going on, but you get in the car anyway.....

And next thing you know, you’re in a swanky ass rich person bedroom with your arms being roped together all pretty above your head. And then Adam walks in, still in his S attire, elegantly removing his mask and smiling devilishly at you as though you’re the tastiest treat he’s ever laid eyes on.

You will never be his Eve, but you can absolutely be his delicious little taste of the forbidden fruit.

Okay enough buildup, I’ll tell you what you wanna hear. He’s into punishments of all sorts, but flogging is a favorite of his. Spanks with his hand are just fine, and a lot of floggers are nice, but he absolutely has one of those heart shaped riding crops that he loves to use on you when you squirm too much or don’t listen to his orders. It makes the most pleasant snapping sound when it hits your ass. He will make you count them out loud and then thank him for the lesson.

He has an authority kink, and you are to address him as “Ainosuke-sama.”

Choking. Kind of basic but he loves watching you gasp for air while he’s thrusting into you slow and deep. He can see it on your face when you’re getting that hazy, light-headed feeling, and he will memorize the hell out of that look.

Knifeplay. He wants to watch the faces you make when the cold, sharp blade grazes over your abdomen. Down your chest to your belly, he’d trace patterns over and over again, until finally he actually marks you. He doesn’t sink the knife in very deep at all, only enough to lightly carve an elegant rose onto your flesh. Just a little something that will fade in a few days, but will still make you think of him whenever you look in the mirror.

Like Kaoru, he very much is into edging, but where Kaoru is merciful and grants you release, Ainosuke will not be so merciful, and if you cum without permission, you will be punished. Again.

He will keep you on the brink all night, though, fucking you ruthlessly until your brain is mush. All you will know is his name and all your walls will know is the shape of his cock. He wants to make his face the only one you will see whenever you orgasm anytime in the future.

He plans it to only be a one-night thing, but actually fucking you makes him think more about you. He’ll have to have you again. And again. And again. And the next time, he won’t be as nice. You’ll have hell to pay for consuming his thoughts the way you do.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 x reader #adam sk8 #sk8 adam #ainosuke shindo #ainosuke shindo x reader #shindo ainosuke x readed #adam sk8 x reader #sk8 adam x reader

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

higher - kth | m

all that matters to me girl, win or lose, is an x-rated complete swirl of me and you. so if you want to see the show, just come with me baby, i will show you how i roll - insurance?, the higher

↳ summary- a chance meeting with a handsome stranger in the airport leads to a very exciting flight.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, pwp, the plot is basically one whole sentence

↳ warnings- public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk, cum play, unprotected sex (fiction isnt rl life, wrap it up pals), sex in an airport and a plane whoops, sex with stranger

↳ a/n- hi folks! this fic has been in my trash basically because i wasnt sure i liked it too much! but i was convinced by a few friends to post it. i surely hope you enjoy this little to no plot LMFAO. pls feel free to message, comment, dm me, carrier pigeon, etc etc. i LOVE YOU.

“Wow, you’re cute,” a voice calls to you through the crowded airport.

You lower your book down to gaze at where the voice came from, an eyebrow arched in confusion. An airport was an odd place to be hit on.

The voice came from the man across from you, sitting in the black plastic leather seat of the waiting area for your gate. He waves his hand a little as if to take ownership for the compliment.

“Oh, uhhh,” you bite your lip. “Thank you?”

He smiles. It’s beautiful. You’re struck by the gleaming white teeth and boxy smile.

“Are you heading to Los Angeles too?” He leans forward, wanting to get closer to you.

You lay your book down on your lap and nod. “Yeah, I am. Visiting.”

The boy wouldn’t stop grinning. He was ethereal in beauty. Cover of a magazine star quality. Shaggy brown hair, button nose and a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. His voice was a sinful pitch of sexy baritone and his body appeared lithe and toned. Of all the men to hit on you in a bustling airport, you were glad it was this one.

“Me too! Meeting my friends there for a long bachelor party week of partying.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” You ask. That would make this exchange less invigorating.

“No! No,” he quickly replies. “My childhood best friend Seokjin is. He wants to go around LA and eat at as many restaurants as he can and then drink until he passes out. His words.”

You stifle a laugh, pleased with the information that the young suitor across from you is at the very least, not engaged. “Sounds like a wild time.”

He nods in agreement, flashing a cute grin. Your stomach flips. He’s so attractive. You can’t help but eye him down, let your gaze soak in his beauty. He notices and smirks.

“What seat are you?” He asks.

“Ah,” you squint at the ticket in your lap. “14A. Window seat.”

He laughs out loud. “No fucking way.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m 14B.”

You join in his laughter. “Seems like we’re in for an exciting flight.”

He winks at you and you feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way. Can’t wait to get to know you better, neighbor.” He drawls, before leaving to stand in line to board the plane.

The long haul flight starts out simple, conversation flowing between you and Taehyung easily. You discuss your plans for LA, what you hope to see, your friends. He’s a gentleman from the very beginning and asks questions about your life. He seems genuinely curious about you. He hands you his phone before the plane takes off, begging to see your Instagram.

You grin as you take the device and tap in your username, showing him the profile that pops up.

“God damn,” he sighs as he scrolls through your images. Selfies, pictures with friends, your dog, everything. “You’re really fucking attractive.”

You blush and watch as he presses the ‘follow’ button. You’re just as eager to get a glimpse at his own profile. The man looks like he could be a model, you’re sure his pictures do him justice. Plus, you’re dying to show your friends the hottie who hit on you in the airport.

The flight takes off and you settle in for a long, 15 hour flight with your new companion.

The chill of the recycled air prickles at your skin, and you’re tugging on the thin airplane blanket as soon as you can.

He coos at you, finding the sight of you cuddled up adorable. “You’re really cute,” he states again. “I’m like, ridiculously into you.”

Your cheeks heat. “You’re like, ridiculously confident, you know?”

He offers a wink in reply.

“I’d totally fuck you.” He sighs after a moment, causing you to splutter on your own spit.

“Jesus! We just met!” Your eyes widen in surprise, looking around to ensure no one on the plane heard your conversation.

“So? What's the difference between meeting at a club or meeting on a plane? After the club, you still get laid.”

You’re silent for a moment, pondering his words. Honestly, he’s not wrong. The only difference is the level of exhibitionism he’s exuding.

But, the idea of hooking up with the handsome stranger on the flight has you aching in more than one way.

“Here?” You whisper harshly, heart rate elevating quickly.

He laughs for a moment. “Damn, I meant like in the bathroom or something, but you’ve got a better idea.”

Your cheeks are nearly tomato red in color as he winks at you.

“You down?” He asks sweetly.

You feel Taehyung’s hand land on your thigh, rubbing at the fabric of your yoga tights. You steal a glance at him and see him staring right back at you, a smirk clear in his perfectly shaped lips.

“I-...,” it’s hard to talk, let alone breathe. Taehyung is offering to pleasure you right here in the middle of a crowded plane. The thought is heady and very persuasive. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

Tae’s eyes soften. “Of course. You just say the word and I’ll stop.”

His reaction seems genuine and makes your heart flutter in relief. You worry your bottom lip for just a moment, and then nod your agreement.

“Just keep quiet,” you whisper and his grin is wicked.

“I’d worry about yourself in that regard.”

You’re suddenly thankful the old man sitting next to Taehyung on the aisle seat is fast asleep, blackout mask covering his eyes and earbuds shoved in his ears.

Tae’s fingers slide up and down your leg. He sees your blissed out face already and winks.

Fuck, it’s incredible how quickly he turns you on. His hand on your leg has you absolutely soaking wet. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what else he could do, your body might not handle it.

His fingers run up higher, towards where your thighs meet. He grazes his touch over your core and you’re sure he can feel your wetness. It feels like your whole body is burning, his touch igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers.

He leans over to whisper in your ear. “I’m a little cold, mind if I share the blanket?”

You can only nod, the power of speech completely gone now. You gasp as his fingers maintain an up and down motion along your clothed slit.

He chuckles and pulls the blanket over himself to join you in the warmth. To any bystander on the plane, you appear as a loved up couple sharing a blanket for a nice nap. In reality, you’re strangers desperate to feel each other.

“Pull these leggings down for me, baby?” He asks, but it sounds like a demand. You’re so into it you can’t even breathe. You idly obey, lifting your hips slightly to push the leggings down just far enough to not be suspicious.

He turns his body to rest his head on your shoulder, giving off the illusion of a lovesick boyfriend wanting to cuddle.

“Fuck,” he moans into your ear. His finger is rubbing along your pussy now, gathering up the slick that has gathered. “So fucking wet for me.”

You swallow thickly and try to bite back the loud moan begging to leave your lips.

“Do you like that, babe?” He whispers, the breath in your ear making you shiver. “You want me to finger you here on the plane?”

“P-please,” you croak out. He turns your face towards him and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is all innocence, as his fingers slide into your core. He’s the definition of heaven and hell. You stifle a moan against his lips as you feel him enter you, his fingers curling up as he begins a gentle thrust. The silver rings on his fingers are cold, and you’re sure they’ll be covered in your slick by the time he’s done with you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans. “You feel like fucking heaven baby.”

You’re trying to stay quiet, biting your lip and breathing harshly through your nose. His fingers pick up a pace and you’re desperate, legs spreading to allow him better access.

“God,” he whispers into your ear, making you shiver. “I wish I could kneel down and eat you right now. I bet you taste so good.”

He’s filthy, his words becoming more lascivious as he continues fucking into you. His pace becomes punishing, and you’re sure if someone looked over they could see the rhythmic bounce of the blanket.

“F-fuck,” you manage. He’s curling his fingers just right, and the metal of his rings is cold and slick from the wetness spilling from you.

“You wanna cum for me, baby?” He asks, kissing your lips quickly. “You wanna cum all over my hand?”

You’re nodding quickly, trying to keep your eyes open to watch for any sign of being caught, but the thrill is forcing them closed.

“Yes, please,” you’re begging and trying so hard to maintain your low whisper. Breathing is even harder now as you feel your body reacting to his powerful fingers thrusting into you. The coil inside you is so near snapping it nearly hurts.

“So polite, baby,” he caresses your ear with a lave of his tongue. “Let go for me, pet. Let me see you cum on me in the middle of this plane.”

It seems as if you’re programmed to obey, and your body reacts in accord to his demands. The coil snaps and your cunt is convulsing around his fingers. Taehyung plasters his lips against yours to muffle your moaning, while coaxing your walls with his fingers to continue pulsing around him.

It takes a moment to come down, and Tae pulls away from your lips which leaves you breathless.

“Fuck, you’re the hottest person I’ve literally ever met,” he sighs. “I’d marry you right now if I could.”

You blush as you pant hard, feeling your wetness slip down your core to the leather seat underneath you. You grimace at the feeling and Tae smirks. He pops his slick finger into his mouth to clean it, maintaining constant eye contact with you, before he slips it out and presses the call flight attendant button.

Your eyes widen and you’re squirming to make sure the blanket covers you. Taehyung looks like the picture of professionalism as the elderly attendant comes to your row.

“Hi, my wife spilled her drink. Could we get some extra napkins?”

The attendant nods and slips away, leaving you with your blown senses and quivering legs. She’s back in an instant with a stack of napkins and Taehyung smiles sweetly at you.

“Let me help you, babe,” he grins. “You’re so clumsy, it’s adorable.” His hand slips back between your thighs, wiping at the mess he wrought out of you, before his fingers dance on your clit yet again.

The 15 hour flight may be the best and most torturous one yet.

By the time the plane lands on American soil, you’ve orgasmed 4 times at the hand of Taehyung. You’ve also managed to give him a ferocious handjob that left some questionable stains on the airline provided blanket, and taken a nap in his embrace.

It’s single-handedly the weirdest flight you’ve ever taken but definitely your favorite.

Tae walks next to you as you exit the plane, hand in hand. You don’t know what the fuck is happening but you’re feeling as if you’ve just been crowned queen of England.

“So, my wife,” Taehyung jokes. He kept the marriage roleplay up the whole flight, even regaling the once-sleeping man next to him with stories of how you met and where you got married. The whole scenario had you completely flustered and heart fluttering anxiously as he described how beautiful you were on your wedding day.

“I need to stop at the bathroom. Would you care to come with and watch my luggage?” He asks you, eyebrow raising suggestively.

You’re silent for a moment, but notice his growing smirk.

“Of course, darling,” you play. He squeezes your hand in response and drags you to the closest private bathroom he can find.

It’s not big and it’s definitely seen better cleaning, but you don’t care as soon as Tae’s lips cover yours the moment the door closes. All luggage is dropped and you’re throwing your arms around his neck. He holds you tight and lifts you up slightly.

“God, I wanted to kiss you like that the whole flight,” he sighs after pulling away. “I also wanted to fuck your tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight.”

“What’s stopping you, husband?” You tease as you press your hips to his.

He growls with appreciation as he lunges forward to kiss you again, teeth nipping at your lips and tongue swirling around your mouth.

“That’s my dirty little girl,” he whispers as he tugs the shirt you’re wearing off your body. “Someone loves getting fucked where anyone could walk in.”

You allow the fabric to fall to the ground, before you’re attaching your lips to his face, kissing and sucking down his neck. His skin tastes salty and sweet, and you’re desperate to lick every inch.

“Mmm, my little exhibitionist,” he slaps your ass and the sting elicits a gasp from you. “I bet your cute pussy is still dripping wet from earlier.” He pushes you against the cold tile of the wall. “Let me see please?”

You nod as he kisses your lips one last time, then descends to his knees and pulls your leggings and hopelessly soiled panties with him. You’re sure your core is drenched. The man made you cum more times in one flight than you had in most of your hookups, and that was from his fingers alone.

“Shit,” he gasps as you step out of the leggings and expose your drenched folds. “This is the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Still so wet from my fingers.”

He drags a digit through and pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste. You’re whimpering, worried your legs will give out from all blood rushing to your cunt.

“I dreamed I got to wake you up from our nap by eating you out,” he admits as he pulls your folds apart and licks his lips at the sight of your clit. “I want to wake up between your thighs.”

Any chance for retort is cut off, throat going dry as he pushes his tongue against your bundle of nerves, already overstimulated from an orgasm-filled flight. He laps at it, swirling around it vulgarly before dipping lower to fuck his tongue into you.

“I could fucking drink you.”

Tae isn’t shy with words, that is a fact you’re now very aware of. He commentates the entire thing, whispering his desires as he fucks his tongue in you and suckles at your clit.

“Tae, oh god,” you sigh. Your pussy has never been more pleasured in your short life, and in such a short time period.

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name,” he whispers with a particularly rough lick to the hood of your clit. “I wanna make you cum on my tongue but I need to fuck you before my cock explodes.”

“Yes, please, need you!” You whine needily and he slurps you one last time before he slips back up to level with you.

You assist him in undoing his jeans and he whips his stiff cock out.

“I want to suck you off,” you murmur as you stare at the head dripping with pre-cum.

“Oh Christ,” he gasps and tilts his head back. “I want that too but I’m so desperate to be inside you, baby. Next time.” He smirks.

He’s lining himself up, kissing your nose and lips and face as he pushes into you.

It feels like the culmination of all your desire and passion. You’re finally full of him after 15 hours of his delicious foreplay and nothing has ever felt more satisfying than his push into your drenched channel. He feels as if he slots right into you perfectly, pussy walls molding around him like a puzzle piece you didn’t realize was missing.

“Holy shit babe,” he groans. “Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever felt.” His voice sounds dreamy, and his grip on your hips tightens. “Shit, I could get used to this.”

You’re whimpering with want, desperate to feel his cock thrusting inside you.

“Need you, Tae. Please fuck me.”

He’s quick to comply, slowly pulling his length out before slamming it back in, eliciting a loud sob from your lips. His cock slipping and fucking into you is the best feeling and you feel like you’ve injected the drug that is Tae directly into your veins.

Taehyung keeps his filthy monologue running as he ruts into you.

“You feel so good, little one,” he gasps. “So wet and tight for me.”

The tip of his cock bumps against your cervix, jolting you with each thrust. You wish you could take him deeper, so deep he never leaves.

“Gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?” he asks as he tugs on your nipple. “Fuck, I want you to cum.”

His lips move to suck at your neck, and your hands claw harsh red lines down his back. Your insides feel like lava, hot and boiling and ready to burn you down instantly.

“P-please, so fucking close,” you weep. You’re sure you’ll never get fucked as good as you are right now, never feel as satisfied as you have over the last 15 hours. You’re desperate for everything and you want more, more.

“Yeah, fuck, cum for me little slut. Let the airport hear you get railed!”

Your back is arching into him and he picks up the speed and power. Wet skin slapping on skin echoes around the bathroom like music and your combined sighs and moans are the lyrics to a song only you and Taehyung could create.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming!” You scream. “Tae! Fuck Tae! Tae!” You chant his name like a prayer, devoting your orgasmic bliss to the deity pounding into you. He growls ferally, the sweet litany of his name bringing him right to the edge.

Your cunt pulsates around him, gripping his cock and sucking him in. He shudders a gasp as he feels himself unravel completely by the feel of your completion. He pulls out quickly and jerks himself to the end, cum splattering all over your stomach and tits. He whines your name as it lands on your skin, and he wishes he could see this every single day.

It takes you both a few seconds to breathe again, clinging to each other like long lost lovers.

Tae smiles down at your cum covered stomach. “Messy.”

“Seems like your wife isn’t the only clumsy one,” you wink. You drag your finger through the viscous liquid and lick it into your mouth. Taehyung groans.

“Shit you’re gonna get me ready for round 2 and I’ve got a taxi to catch in 5 minutes.”

He presses against you and kisses you, uncaring about the wetness pressing in between stomachs.

“That was the best flight I’ve ever taken in my life,” he sighs as you both unlatch and begin the process of dressing again.

You blush like a cherry and nod. “I only want to fly with that kind of accommodation from now on.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “We could make that happen.”

“Yeah?” You ask as you slip back into your slide sandals. “You want to see me again?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” He hops on one foot to slip his own shoes on. “I’d fucking fly 15 hours again just to be with you.”

Hope blooms in your chest, thankful that for some reason he seems as interested in continuing as you are. You press towards him again and kiss him deeply, tongue slipping past his lips to demonstrate your desire.

“Call me?” You ask. He nods in a daze.

Your phone is ringing incessantly, reminding you that your best friend is waiting outside the airport and wondering where you are. You have to leave and you find it hard to say goodbye.

“Thank you for flying Kim Taehyung airlines,” he jokes as you grab your luggage and open the bathroom door.

You choke on your laughter and blow a kiss, then push forward and leave behind the gorgeous and confident man of 14B in the bathroom.

It’s not until an hour later when you settle into your hotel bed that you notice an instagram message.

vante 12:45 am: let’s meet tonight. let me show you first class 😉

-2 years later-

The dash from the chapel to the airport is ridiculously quick. You barely have enough time to change out of your white gown and slip into something comfortable, wave goodbye to the friends and family gathered in your honor, and slide into a taxi towards the international terminals.

Tae holds your hand with a grin. He’s just as tired as you but you both can’t hold back your excitement, your awe of each other, elated by the events of the day and the thrill of the unknown future. He kisses you deeply during the taxi ride, uncaring about the way the driver eyes you two. Kissing Tae will never get old, you think, and you’re struck by the way he makes you feel each time his lips press to yours.

His hands linger on your body, then slips to tangle your fingers together, diamond ring slipping against his smooth metal one. He wants to kiss you more, take you there in the backseat, but you’re pulling up to the terminal before you know it and being tugged out of the backseat with your luggage in tow.

Check in is a breeze, and you’re suddenly sitting at the waiting area of the gate—nose in a book as Taehyung sits beside you and fiddles with the luggage and boarding passes.

“Wow, you’re really cute,” he speaks after moments of silence. He peers at you over the book.

You lower it to your lap with a sly grin.

“I think I need to use the bathroom.” He says. The sparkle in his eyes sends shocks through you, as if it’s the first time you’re seeing him again. “Care to assist me with my luggage?”

You can’t fight the giggle and blush that polishes your cheeks.

“Lead the way, husband.”

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