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joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

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“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind.

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later.

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words.

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?”

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out.

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. ��Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture.

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them.

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable.

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position.

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes.

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know.

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell. It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more. He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration.

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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applecidersugar · 13 days ago

Text

Just had the thought of 141 with very feminine partners. In all different ways mind you, but still feminine.

Price fell in love with a girl who bakes and cooks alot, very kind hearted. Volunteers everyday for the community. He wears her pretty floral dresses as her hair is usually in a braid. She mothers 141 like her own babies and spoils them rotten. The boys always have a place to sleep with "Ma" (Soap called her that once and it stuck). Price doesn't know what he'd do without his 'pretty girl.' She is literally the reason he is not both homeless and/ or in jail for not doing his taxes or taking care of his property.

Gaz probably goes for a dark feminine kinda girl. Think Morticia Addams. Elegant outfits, glamorous makeup. Gaz doesn't care if people judge him or question their relationship. He's the one sitting on a vintage velvet couch drinking red with his wife while she explains why Frankenstien is a literary masterpiece. She has long coffin nails, and Gaz frequently comes to work with a black or deep red lipstick stain on his cheek or collar. Dude gets a whole wardrobe makeover because he used to dress like Adam Sandler on his days off. Now he looks like Gomez Addams with the nice shirts and pants. People have asked if they are a mafia family. Bonus points if his wife is taller and he's shorter.

Ghost and a Lolita girl. He unironically fucks with the dresses and the heels and the cute bonnets and hair pieces. Man learns how to do hair and actively buys her COORD and will 100% hold her bag whenever she needs to do something. Woman has her wallet and his heart in the palm of her hand. Ghost has frequently come home with new pieces from abroad (he has begged Nikolai to take him to Japan far too many times now) without his partner asking. Builds her a custom rack for her dresses with a neat compartment for her shoes. It's also very fun for him that people are more drawn to his girlfriend than him, considering he's used to people bugging him about the mask. Now it's just his partner getting asked a million questions on her outfits.

Soap with a pink pilates princess girl. He was just heading into the gym, saw a pilates class, met his girlfriend, and fell in love. She insists on making him protein lattes and makes sure he eats enough calories. Everyone noticed when Soap got a girlfriend because this man shoes up with the most girly lunchbox alive with his pink Stanley, and the dude is not bothered. A recruit tried to bully him over it, was immediately hit with 'it's lunch my wife made me. Cause I actually have one.' Does skincare with his girl. Man glowed the fuck up from this woman he keeps putting in the work alongside her. He also does pilates and has the best endurance and body athletic wise out of all of 141. Stares at her ass in leggings, and stares at her chest in cute tops. Touchy man does not stop at gym. He is all over this woman like butter on toast. Save her. She just wants to do her set in peace!!

Idea for Ghost having a Lolita partner inspired by @readgoods. Look at her art, it's honestly gorgeous. Writing this at work because I'm bored as shit.

#spicedcider #soap x reader #captain price #cod john price #simon riley x you #gaz x you #price x you

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wandering-pirate · 4 months ago

Text

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

How the Crew Takes Care of You on Your Period

Captain Curly

Knows your cycle so well that he starts prepping his monthly Captain Curly Period Kit a week before it starts

The kit includes all hygiene products that you need including painkillers, five of your favorite chocolate bars and the best part: candid photos he had secretly taken of you, each with a note underneath

The notes ranged from awful period puns to sweet compliments. This man knows how to keep you happy, physically and emotionally

Whispers comforting words as you sob over a character’s death during movie night

Though once, it was about a cockroach getting pancaked on screen

"Babe, that roach? It’s in a better place now—cockroach heaven. Endless trash buffets, living its best afterlife”

Spoiler: it worked

Checks in on you throughout the day, either with a sweet “How’s my baby feeling?” text or by dropping into the room for a quick chat, always making sure you feel loved and cared for

He understands how hormones can mess up with your mood and always reassures you that he isn't going anywhere

Co-pilot Jimmy

The man has somehow mastered the art of finding all the right spots to massage when you're doubled over with cramps or just feeling downright miserable

What you don’t know is that he once secretly googled “how to massage girlfriend in pain” (in incognito mode cause his ego won't just let him ask outright)

Big mistake. Huge. He was immediately bombarded with nsfw content, all roleplay, mostly rough

Let’s just say it took half a day, several deep breaths, and a burning face before he stumbled onto an actual helpful website

Ever since then, he’s been sneaking off to “practice.” But it got a little weird one day

Every time you passed by, he’d be glued to his phone, staring at it with this weirdly intense look, and his free hand squeezing the air at different angles

“Uh… babe? Are you… hallucinating? Maybe some floating breast action?”

“Huh? Wha—no! Unless you’re jealous of the air now, darling. Should I be worried?”

It all paid off when you let out those godly noises he loved, his hands were massaging with just the right pressure and on the right places

To top it off, he even got an essential oil in your favorite scent

Not without drama, though—apparently, walking into Bath & Body Works fully hooded and masked with shades doesn't scream 'thoughtful boyfriend'. It screams robber

Mechanic Swansea

The man and his craftsman hands will do anything to make you comfortable

Need a hot compress? Heats up grains, puts it in a sackcloth bag and places it in your lower belly

On days when you feel ugly looking in the mirror? Secretly blurs them slightly with shampoo or soap

Cold hands? Wraps yours in his larger ones

The kids being too loud while you're in a damp mood? He'd play tea parties with them (he was crowned the princess of all dragons)

Before sleeping, he always lay the towel down at your side of the bed whenever you're at the bathroom

Even built you a custom wooden cabinet that dispenses pads and tampons efficiently. Always stocked because he secretly checks it regularly

You have to force him to sit or lay down with you when he would be silently stressing out on what more to do

"Swansea, love, you're all I need right now, just stay here with me"

Nurse Anya

The nurse uses her medical and psychological expertise like a pro, making your period feel a lot less miserable

Meds are always your bestfriend whenever your killer cramps hit and she made sure to always carry all kinds of painkillers and have every dosage for each pain scale you're in

Wincing and doubling down? she's quick to ask

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

Even when she’s busy, she finds little ways to remind you you’re not alone like leaving sticky notes with doodles of you or your favorite characters in places where you’ll find them

After noticing how you loved wrapping your feet in blankets, she got you matching fuzzy socks that you now have to wear whenever she’s around (because she’s wearing hers too)

Lovingly strokes your back and hair while you scream at reality show contestants for choosing the dumbest of choices

Very much amused and nods along every time you asked her if you're both witnessing the same stupidity

Intern Daisuke

The boy is sometimes dense but when it comes to you, he sure isn't incompetent

One day, when the bed was way too soft to escape from, you did the only logical thing: text him

"Hey Dai, can you buy me some tampons? forgot to buy some yesterday"

"Be there in 5 babe! (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ"

And he meant it

He gave the pharmacist a heart attack by storming in and loudly asking for a box of tampons

Proceeded to grill them on what brands were most likely to leak so he'd avoid them (no shame whatsoever)

Never arrived empty-handed. Along with the tampons, he’ll pick up a plushie, a cute keychain, a little hair accessory or literally anything he knows that will let him see your pretty smile

He’ll wrap you both up in comforters, flashdrive loaded with all your comfort movies, from romcoms to horror

The mission? Movie marathon until you're both knocked out

Despite shrieking at every jumpscare, he still kisses your forehead between scenes, like you’re the one who needs reassurance (Spoiler: he needed those forehead kisses more)

a/n: thanks so much for reading! headcanon requests are very much appreciated ʕ•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

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prettiestgrlinthemorguexo · 1 year ago

Note

Hi could you do a smut of Adam x fem Reader sex in the shower after a hard day at work

Steamy (Adam x fem! reader smut)

Um, objection, we don’t have bad days, it’s fucking heaven bitch.

No but in all seriousness, I love this idea so I’d happily right this, not a fan of Adam but I can see the appeal, but for my enjoyment he has more pudge on him

NOT PROOF READ!!!

Warnings: smut, fluffy smut, shower sex, make out session,implied artist reader, pudgy Adam, biting, hair pulling, degrading (reader receiving)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

No ones POV

Adam was having a bad day, he was usually in this normal, very much arrogant attitude, but he was always sweet to you. So while Y/N was painting away only to hear Adam come storming into your shared home slamming the door and cussing up a storm, Y/N knew something was wrong. Y/N stopped painting, walking towards their bedroom, upon entering the room, Y/N was greeted with the sight of Adam’s horned mask on the other side of the room, clearly thrown and Adam on the bed practically red.

“Adam?” Y/N asked from the door way. Adam sat there his red face in this hands breathing loudly. Y/N walked over to him, as Y/N stood infront of him, she place both hands on his, trying to see his face. “What wrong baby?” Y/N asked softly, a since of worry in her voice. Without speaking Adam was quick to pull them in. Y/N gasped as they were pulled onto him lap, Adam then buried his face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her tight.

Y/N was quick to hold him close, “Adam,” she started today, her fingers running through his hair, “tell me what happened, I wanna make you feel better.” They said softly to him. Adam stayed quiet for a moment before speaking, still clearly pissed off, “just that bitch Sera and her bullshit..” he states, his voice full of bitterness. Y/N sighed and played with his hair, “it’s ok baby..” he said sweetly to him before pulling back, moving to hold his face in my hands, looking at his dark eyes. “How about we shower and play down, just a night of us too?” Y/N suggested.

Adam let out a small sigh and gave a small smile to her, “that’s sounds perfect babe..” Adam said softly, reluctantly letting go of Y/N. As he let her go, Y/N stood up, once on her feet she places her hands on both sides of his face moving his head to look at her. “Say here while I get the shower ready,ok?” Adam gave them a nod she walked to the bathroom.

After a few minutes, the shower was ready, the steam feeling bathroom. Y/N walked back into the room. “Showers ready Baby.” Y/N said to him as he stood up and walked over. He seemed so tired from today.. Y/N could help but think looking at his face, as he walked over I take his hand giving it a small quick, he looks down giving me a small smile, “Thanks hun..” he said softly as we head back into the steamy room.

As they entered the bathroom they were immediately hit with the humidity and the clammy air. Y/N was the first to strip down, removing her clothes before turning back to Adam, only to be meet with his eyes looking over every inch of her body. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him and walk over to him, now standing in front of him. He was taller, much taller than Y/N.

Y/N reached her hands under his rope to feel his body (bro doesn’t wear a shirt under that robe) feeling his soft skin. Y/N looked up at Adam as her hands roam his body, “join me when you’re ready ok?” She said softly to him, he smiled leaning down, kissing her head, “got it..” he said softly before Y/N pulled away getting into the shower

They let the hot water hit her skin, Y/N stood there letting the water in gulf them, their hair becoming wet sticking to her neck and back, it was a relaxing feeling. After a minute, Y/N heard two metals rubbing against each other of the shower curtain be pulled, Y/N turned around to see Adam standing there, looking so handsome. Y/N stepped closer to him, she moved her hands up to his black hair, her fingers running through his wet hair. Y/N was nearly messaging him scalp. Adam let out a low groan, moving his large hands to her hips. He can’t help but lean his body in more, Adam loved her touch. As he leaned his body in, he felt her body pressed against his plush body, he’s fingers squeezing her plump hips.

Y/N hands moved from this hair, down his face and landed on his shoulders, rubbing them. Adams eyes never left her, she was perfect in his eyes, he soon tight his grip on her wet skin pulling her closer, Y/N gasp slightly feel herself get pulled up closer to him, her E/C eyes looking his black orbs. After a moment of the heat building, Adam kissed her deep and passionately, moving his hands to cup her ass picking her up. Feeling the motions, Y/N wrapped her legs around him hips, her arms around her neck, returning the kiss.

The kiss was hot,their wet bodies clinging onto one another. After a few of the make out sessions, Y/N felt something poking their thigh, she felt a shiver go up she spine and let out a soft moan into the passionate kiss, knowing its his harden Length. Y/N felt Adam smile into the kiss as she felt his tip rub against her folds. Y/N moaned, digging her nails into his back before pulling her lips away. “Adam please..” she moaned quietly to him, nails still dug into his back. Adam smiled before leaning into her ear, “be a good girl and bend over for me..” as the words left his mouth he put her back on her feet. Y/N was quick to do what he says, Bernini over, her arms against the shower wall.

Adam was quick to get behind her, nearly towering over her, the water of the shower no longer hitting her skin being blocked by Adam’s body. Adam was quick to tease Y/N more, rubbing his fat time between her folds. His teasing sending shivers down her spine, making her legs shake. “Fuck Adam please…” Y/N moaned out in a near beg, “stop teasing…” Adam couldn’t help but smile, he loved seeing her like this, under time looking so beautiful, he decided to tease her a little more. “Are you sure you want this cock..?” He asked in a cocky tone, pushing his tip a little more pass the folds, teasing her entrance, feeling his fat tip made Y/N arch her back and moan out.

“Fuck yes please..!” She moaned out, wanting, needing him in her tight hole. Adam couldn’t help but smile a cocky grin, “as you wish princess..” he said to her before pushing in, finally feeling her warm walls around his fat cock. The pair both let out a moan as he eases his way into her. Y/N wad are easy shaking from pleasure, no matter how many times they have sex he’s still so big…

After finally putting every inch in her warmth, he was still for a moment before he pulled nearly all the way back out and slammed back in roughly, sending a wave of shock threw Y/N and they yelp at the feeling. Adam smiled as his hands were places on her hips as he began to pound into her wet cunt, feeling her tight hole hugged his cock perfectly, Y/N’s moans were like a symphony in Adams ears, the moans leaving her mouth with near thrust. A mix of cusses and praises fill the steamed filled room.

Adam could feel his pit filling up, know soon he was gonna fill her up, he moved his right hand from her hip, taking his free hand and took a fist full of her hair pull her upper body up. Adam buried his face into her neck, biting down on it, making her moan more. Adam moved his face away from her neck, seeing the bruising bite on her neck, he then moved closer to her ear, “you like taking his cock.?” He asked his tone cocky and horny, his pounds never letting up. “Yes!” Y/N said in an almost scream from pleasure “you like being a cockwhore for me? You like that this cunt belongs to me?” He asked in a near mocking tone, love seeing Y/N like this, his pretty wife..

“Yes! I’m your cockwhore!” She moaned out bitting her lip. Y/N could feel her own pit form more and more in here lower stomach, making her tighten up. Adam could feel her tightening around his cock, he knew this feeling, he knew she was close. He continued to pound away into her at an unholy speed, letting out grunts chasing his own release. “Aw are you close babygirl?” He asked her as he pounded away over and over again, Y/N could barely speak from the pleasure she was feeling, her nodded her head for him, “yes I’m so close..” she said between moans.

“Good girl..” Adam groaned louder as he slammed his hips into her, releasing his seed deep in her, but he didn’t stop he continued to pound, feeling her orgasm grow closer and closer. Adam never let up the speed pounding into her. After a few more thrust she came hard around his cock, he felt her fluids coat his cock and her hole tightened, they both let out moans at the feelings, the euphoric feeling engulfing them both.

They stood still for a moment before he finally pulled out of her, Y/N let out a little whimper as the lost of his cock. Adam help wash off her sweat before picking her up and turning off the water. Adam sat her down on the counter of their shared bathroom. Adam grabbed Y/N a towel and wrapping it around her body before grabbing himself one. “Thank you for helping me baby..” he said placing a kiss on her head. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, even though the rest of heaven saw him as a cocky bastard, he was her cocky bastard that had a soft spot for her. Y/N help his hand giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m gonna be here for you Adam you know that..”

Adam stayed quiet for a moment before speaking softly “you know I love you right?” He said to Y/N rubbing her head. “And I love you Adam..” she said softly to him. Adam smiled before picking her up and speaking.

“How about a round 2?”

Tag list

@kazurami14 @netheris @musicb33nsstuff @rainycloud858 @yaimlight @erissco @aarkhamkknight @pooplyface1423

#x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #fanfic #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam smut #adam x you

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achilles-rage · 6 months ago

Text

thirteen crows: chapter eight

summary: you wake up in eddie’s house and they show you who you belong to.

word count: 2.9k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: the last chapter!!! and happy halloween!! seeing as my last series took 3 months, this one felt like it flew by, and i’m gonna miss it :// also, i got really into this chapter lowkey and it literally had my face hot as i was writing and idk why. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, mentions of violence (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

Your vision is still black when you feel the pain throughout your body coming back to you, and you let out a low groan. Your elbow is throbbing from hitting the ground, as well as one of your knees, and you’re sure your neck is already bruising from Buck’s hands wrapped around your throat.

As you slowly come back to your senses, you can feel that you’re in a chair with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, and you’re now only wearing a bra and panties. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, or where you are, and either way, you’re far too afraid of the voices you once thought of as your solace speaking across the room.

Being tied and blindfolded isn’t what brings your fear back, though, it’s the sound of the voices not far from where you are, one clearly angry, and the other anxious.

“How could you be so fucking stupid? Leaving your mask lying around!” You’re sure it’s Eddie who’s speaking, and you let out a quiet, ragged breath as you listen to them. You’re still barely able to believe that your sweet regulars could do this to you. They seemed so nice. So normal.

“It was in my closet! I forgot! She-” Buck begins to argue, but the loud groan you let out as a pain runs up your spine causes them both to turn to you. Must be from the fall, you think. Your breath catches in your throat as nothing but silence fills your ears, and your hands start to shake as you hear footsteps coming towards you.

Buck turns to you with a smirk on his face, excited to continue with their game, while Eddie is more wary. He’s still reeling from everything that’s just been dumped on him, and he can’t believe that Buck would do something so idiotic. He’s just lucky that Eddie is able to come up with plans so quickly.

Deep down, he’s happy he can finally have you, but he knows that doing this so sporadically increases their risk of being caught.

You blink a few times as the blindfold is ripped from your eyes, trying to focus your gaze as you’re met with bright lights and the dark black eyes of two masks.

They’ve brought you to Eddie’s house; it’s a lot less likely for anyone to hear you scream than at Buck’s apartment. You’re not sure how they managed to get you here without anyone seeing you, and you’re not sure you want to know either.

“There’s our sweet girl. You feeling alright, sweetheart?” Eddie speaks in a feigned soft voice. He’s not necessarily mad at you, so he doesn’t want to take it out on you completely, but even so, there’s a hint of gruffness in his voice.

Your lip quivers as you look up at him, the glint from the knives they’re both holding distracting you from the fact that they’re still wearing those masks, but only for a moment.

“My wrists hurt. Can you loosen the restraints?” you ask, trying to keep your voice soft and sweet. They were nice to you at one point, so you pray that if you’re nice enough to them, they might show you some mercy. Buck chuckles softly, and he’s about to lunge at you before Eddie stops him with a firm hand on his chest.

You yelp softly at Buck’s movement, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Nice try. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you tried to run from me. Twice.” Buck seethes, and you finally let a few tears fall. You lower your head, which makes Eddie smile. Such a submissive little thing now. Just like he’d known you’d be.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just scared. You caught me off guard.” you tell him in a shaky voice, looking up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster.

You remember how desperate Buck was when he was kissing you, so you hope that you can get him back to that rather than the man standing in front of you. You’re sure if Eddie wasn’t here, the knife in Buck’s hand would already be firmly in your chest.

“You tried to run. You’ll learn soon enough that you can’t do that, yeah? You can never get away from us.” Eddie says calmly, and it makes your blood run cold. Eddie’s stoic voice is somehow scarier than Buck’s clearly enraged demeanour.

At least Buck is showing his anger. You have no idea what Eddie is thinking or how you could possibly talk yourself out of this with him.

“You killed all those people.” you tell them, your shoulders relaxing as you look up at them with a pleading expression. You can’t see the way their eyes travel down to your bra-covered tits and your soft tummy, and the way they focus on your exposed thighs, but even so, you shiver.

You’re terrified of what they could do, but you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up at their attention. The way they’re looking at you with their heads tilted to the side makes you feel things you know you shouldn’t, and you can’t help but think about their mouths on you in your apartment.

“They deserved it. They were abusers, and rapists, and racists. They deserved every single slice they got.” Eddie speaks in a low voice, and for a moment, his voice seems desperate. He wants you to see their side of this, but it’s difficult right now.

“You killed Grace. And Isaac.” you counter, chewing on your lip as you think about them.

Grace was hard enough for you to cope with, but they made you watch Isaac die, and that’s not something you’re sure you’ll ever forget.

“You’re really gonna keep pretending you give a shit about Grace? She disrespected you. She disrespected us.” Buck says angrily, his jaw clenched as he lets a hard breath out through his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“When did she disrespect you?” you ask, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters at their protectiveness over you. They may be literal killers, but they were once your sweet regulars, and you hate that you love the idea of them caring so much about you.

“She disrespected what was ours. Disrespected our taste; as if we’d ever want someone like her.” Eddie rasps, and you’re not sure what to say about this. You had thought the same as her, after all; you weren’t sure why they chose you and not her. You wouldn’t dare tell them that, though.

“And as for Isaac, he was getting too close. He tried to take you from us.” Buck explains, licking his lips as he thinks about the fear in Isaac’s eyes when they killed him. How you let him hold you so close while Eddie killed Isaac.

“He didn’t. He was being nice.” you try to argue, your voice getting slightly louder as you sit up straighter. They both scoff, grips tightening on their knives.

“He wanted you for himself.” Eddie is getting angrier, you can tell by his tone. If you thought Buck was frightening, you’re sure Eddie would be much scarier if you could see his face beneath his mask right now.

“He was trying to help me feel better. Safer.” you say in a soft voice, ducking your head in fear.

“Yeah, trying to make you feel better by putting his disgusting hands on you, by corrupting our sweet girl. That’s our job.” Buck says, his body suddenly tensing. Your shoulders raise at his outburst, and you keep your eyes focused on the ground in front of you.

“Would you have let him touch you, sweetheart? Would you have let him kiss you, touch you, fuck you?” Eddie asks, and when you look up at him, his head is tilted slightly. He studies your every move, trying to decipher if you’ll lie to them or not.

You shake your head, whimpering soft no’s, and Eddie chuckles.

“Exactly, because you’re ours to take care of, isn’t that right? Don’t pretend that you didn’t like when we ate your pretty little pussy.” Buck says before Eddie can respond.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Buck for a split second before he looks back at your sheepish expression, and he knows immediately that they’ve got you right where they want you.

“Admit it, sweet girl.” Eddie urges, and you swallow before you speak.

“I liked it.” You can’t lie to them, especially not when they made you feel so good. You know that the fear should be eating you from the inside out right now, but you can also feel the familiar feeling of arousal in your belly as they stare you down.

“Good girl. See? You’re all ours to care for.” Buck purrs, his anger slowly melting away. You begin to calm down as Buck does, and you’re glad that the remnants of the sweet man you know are back, sort of.

“So, you’re not gonna hurt me?” you ask, sniffling softly as they step closer to you. They’re now towering over you, masks tilted at the same angle while they stare you down in your pretty cotton panties and black bra.

“Hurt you? Why would we hurt you?” Eddie asks in a slightly condescending tone, watching as Buck leans down just enough to drag his knife across your chest.

“Sweet girl, we don’t want to hurt you, we want to keep you.” Buck adds on, then uses the knife to tear the side of your panties. You shiver as the sound of ripping of fabric hits your ears, and your eyes widen slightly, hating how turned on you are.

“We’ll only mark up this pretty skin and paint it red if you disobey us, and you’re not gonna do that, are you, sweet girl?” Eddie asks, tearing the other side of your panties with his knife. Your thighs quiver as the fabric falls slightly, and a small gasp escapes your lips when Buck rips the fabric from your body completely.

“No, I won’t. I won’t, I promise.” you reply in a quivering voice, shaking your head fervently. You can’t tell if you’re more turned on or afraid right now, but you can feel the pool between your legs, and embarrassment fills your body.

Buck and Eddie smirk at each other at your quick response, although they can’t see each other’s faces, and then they both place the blades of their knives on your inner thighs. They force you to spread your legs for them, and they both smirk wider when they see the mess between your legs, although all you can see is the big, void holes of their masks.

“You’re dripping, baby. You must love the idea of being all ours.” Buck purrs, eyes on your glistening folds.

Eddie watches Buck as he kneels down and begins to press hot kisses to your inner thighs, getting dangerously close to your core as he pushes the mask up his face just enough to expose his mouth.

“Since you’ve been so good at controlling your anger, I’m gonna let you pick. You want her pussy, or her sweet little mouth?” Eddie asks Buck, and you feel yourself getting impossibly more turned on at the fact that he’s ignoring your say in the matter completely.

Buck thinks for a moment, unable to decide which he’d rather, but when he looks back down at your desperate cunt, he answers quickly.

“Need this pussy.” Buck murmurs, resisting the urge to bury his face between your thighs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head at how hard of a time Buck has hiding his feelings.

Eddie wants to fuck you just as bad right now, but he wants your mouth almost as bad, and he knows by how wet you are that he’ll definitely get his chance. You’re theirs now.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and cuts your wrists loose while Buck pulls his mask back down, and then Buck is quick to pull you up, not giving you a chance to rub your wrists in a desperate attempt to soothe them.

Buck lifts you with ease, mostly so you don’t run again, and also because he so. fucking. desperate. His hands grip the back of your thighs tightly as he brings you to Eddie’s room, and he groans when he throws you onto the bed and you squeal softly.

They don’t give you a chance to speak, or breathe, before Eddie walks around Buck’s frame and flips you onto your stomach. His hands are on your hips as he urges you to lift your hips, making you arch your back and show them your dripping cunt once again.

Buck is already palming himself through his jeans as he takes in the sight of your ass in the air, waiting like the good girl that you are for their cocks. Your cheek is pressed against the sheets as you wait patiently for them to touch you, and when you feel a hand move up your thigh to your ass, then smack you harshly, you bite back a whimper.

A moan escapes your throat a second later when you feel the tip of Buck’s cock teasing your entrance, gathering up your arousal before he uses it to push all the way into you in one swift motion.

You’re not even used to the sheer size of him when Eddie moves to kneel in front of you on the bed, mask covering his face and clothes still covering his body, except for his hard, leaking cock that’s been pulled out of his pants.

He grabs your hair and roughly tugs you up onto your hands before he pushes his cock past your lips and into your mouth. You gag around him as he starts to move with force, mouth watering moans escaping his lips as he fucks your mouth.

“Yeah, you like that, sweet girl? I can feel you clenching around me.” Buck purrs, and you whimper around Eddie’s cock, unable to nod or speak.

Eddie chuckles darkly, picking up his pace to match Buck’s desperate thrusts to your cunt. Buck groans at the sight of you filled by both of them at once, and as much as he loves the sight, he fights hard to resist the urge to pull you back against him by your hair and fuck you harder.

You try your hardest to pay attention to Eddie as Buck abuses your cunt, trying to use your tongue and hollow your cheeks as he fucks your throat, but it’s difficult.

Buck is so deep inside of you, and you can already tell that you’re going to feel him for days after he’s done with you.

You can feel Eddie twitching as you look up at him, tears streaming down your face as you struggle to breath around his cock, but he doesn’t let up. He’s set on cumming down your throat, and no amount of tears will deter him.

You can feel yourself getting closer too, and you hate how good it feels to be used by both of them at once. Buck reaches one hand around to rub your clit in quick circles, making you whimper loudly around Eddie’s cock.

After a few more harsh thrusts, you cum with a loud moan, and Buck is teetering on the edge. When Eddie sees that you’ve been taken care of, he pulls his cock from your mouth and pulls you forward on the bed.

Your face brushes against the sheets again, and you feel yourself clench around nothing as Buck’s cock is pulled from your cunt. You can’t even speak when Eddie flips you around again, this time onto your back. You watch as he moves to stand beside Buck at the edge of the bed, then let him pull you off the bed and onto your knees in front of them.

They both want to breed you so bad; fuck their cum into you until you’re swollen with the constant reminder of who you belong to, but it’s too soon to think about that. Maybe when you’re properly trained for them, they’ll reward you by filling your pussy to the brim.

“Open your pretty little mouth, baby. You’re gonna take all of it, sweet girl, yeah?” Eddie purrs, and you nod quickly, eyes darting between both men as they start to fist their cocks eagerly.

You open your mouth as you wait, thighs squeezing together as you watch with hungry eyes.

Finally, finally, they both let go, coating your face and chest with their cum, and you try desperately to catch as much of it in your mouth as you can.

You swallow eagerly, eyes darting between them as you do, and when you stick out your tongue to show them that you’ve taken it all, they both smirk beneath the masks.

“There we go. Good girl; letting us fill your belly with our cum. And if you try to run again, we’ll gut you. Take it all away from you. You got that, sweet girl?” Eddie asks in a condescending tone.

In your post-orgasm daze, all you can do is nod, mumbling a soft “yes, promise I won’t.”

“Good girl. See? We’ll take care of you, sweet girl. You’re all. ours.” Buck rasps, and you nod again, biting your lip as you savour the taste of them on your tongue.

Their pretty girl. They know they’ve almost completely broken you already; ruined you for anyone else. Pretty soon, they won’t even need the knives. It won’t take them long to have you completely subservient to them, and then, they’ll reward you with their cum; fucked deep into your womb.

next chapter

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caoimhewrites · 15 days ago

Note

Hallllo! I LOVE your missing series and was wondering if you could do a part three where tf141 + König finally find their daughter?

Missing Pt3

I wasn't planning on doing a part 3 for my Missing drabbles but you've motivated me to actually get around to doing it. Thanks for the request! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Pt1, Pt2

CW: mentions of kidnapping, canon typical violence (kinda), cute father/daughter reunions WC: 1.1k

A/N- I put the translations for König's section at the bottom of the post

Ghost stalked through the halls silently, sticking to the shadows. He feels like he's checked every inch of this stupid base looking for you, but still... nothing. A muffled cry makes him freeze in his tracks, heart in his throat. He pivoted, eyes narrowing as he followed the sound like a bloodhound. Down a flight of metal stairs, to a reinforced door. You're on the other side. He knows it. His boot slams into the door repeatedly, sending it flying off its hinges on the fifth hit. Your head snapped up at the sound, wild-eyed. You sat on the floor in the corner, shrinking away from him. Confusion and concern floods his system as he looks down at you for a moment. Oh... you don't recognize him, he realizes. Ghost’s heart cracked. He hadn't expected that. He should have really. He never wears the mask in front of you, too worried he'll frighten you. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, voice low, the gentle tone he always uses only with you. Your eyes flickered. That voice. You stared at the mask. Confused, searching. He throws himself to his knees in front of you, ignoring the sting. Without thinking, he rips the mask off, revealing his face to you. Your lips parted in a shaky gasp. “…Dad?” “Yeah, love. It’s me,” he murmurs as he cuts your bindings, hands trembling. “I’ve got you now.” He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It's a little too tight but you don't care.

König was a terrifying sight in any normal circumstance, but now? He could make the toughest of men crumble into dust out of pure terror. He's been searching for three weeks to bring you home and he's finally within arms reach. You stared at the towering figure blocking the doorway. Black combat gear and that hood casting shadows over his face. You feel your entire body shake as you stare up at him with eyes so wide you swear they might pop out. The horrified scream you let out breaks his heart. Never once had you reacted like this to him, he doesn't understand it. “Geh weg von mir!" you shriek at the top of your lungs, unable to recognize your father in all his gear and frightening hood. He knelt slowly, setting his rifle aside, palms open in front of him. “Es ist okay,” he said gently, his voice impossibly soft. “Ich werde dir nicht weh tun.” You shook your head, unsure. “Wer... Wer bist du?” He slowly pulls the hood up, careful to not scare you away, the last thing he wants to do is scare you more than he already has. "Papa?" You whisper, almost in disbelief. “Ich dachte-” your voice cracked. “Ich dachte, du kommst nicht” He cups your face in his large hands and pulls you close, “Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen,” he whispered into your hair as he pulls you up into his arms, his embrace crushing. “Nicht für eine Sekunde." After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His gloved hand brushed a bit of dirt from your cheek. “Dir ist kalt,” he said softly. “Lass uns dich hier rausbringen”

Price had been searching for three weeks. Twenty-one days of dead ends, sleepless nights, and silence on the other end of the line. He calls you every night even though he knows your phone is sitting in evidence somewhere. Ghost's voice crackles in his ear from his comms but he doesn't listen. He was so close just minutes ago, he SAW them there. He's had to resort to traveling farther into the shipping yard, towards the old rundown building he had seen your captors in through the window. He's crouched behind a large stack of crates when he hears sniffling no more than 30 feet away. It's you. He knows it. He's heard that sniffling more times than he can count, always offering you tea and gentle hugs as comfort. "Love," he whispers as he moves closer to the source of your sniffles. "Love, you over here?" He squints to get a better look through the crates. He sees your eyes peek out at him. "Dad?" Your eyes widen in shock, not expecting to see him in your escape attempt. "It's me, Love. I'm here," He whispers as he pushes the crates aside, taking your hand in his and kissing your forehead. "How- What-" You stammer clumsily, still in shock at seeing him. You had expected to run through the wilderness for a few days, find a phone and call him, but this is much more of a relief.

Gaz was injured. Not terribly but enough to make his search painful and tiring. He had found you in the basement of the enemy's safe house, peeking out at him, eyes watery and wide. The pain in his side didn’t stop him from crossing the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. He gathered you into his arms without hesitation, heart pounding with relief and lingering anxiety. It didn’t stop him from carrying you out, either. Even as adrenaline faded and every muscle in his body protested, he held you tight, kept his pace steady as he made it to the extraction point. He didn’t complain. Didn’t flinch. Not once. The chopper blades whipped cold air around them, slicing through the autumn night. You were still wearing the same clothes from weeks ago. Fine for mid-September, but the October chill bit at your skin cruelly. He even ignored the pain as he bundled you up in his jacket. He rubbed at your arms in an attempt to warm you quicker. “You’re alright now,” he said softly, lips close to your temple so you could hear him over the noise. “I’ve got you. We're going home."

Soap's breath came heavy, boots sinking into sand as he approached the structure. His intel had better be right this time. He's had too many false leads and dead ends. He can't be wrong this time. He kicked the door in with one swift motion. Inside, the heat didn’t let up. His eyes swept the dim interior, rifle up and ready. Then he hears it. A whimper, soft and muffled. Soap’s heart jumped and stuttered in his chest. He whipped his head around, his eyes finding yours as you hid behind a few boxes. "Dad? You... You're here." Your voice cracked as you spoke. It had been several weeks and you were starting to think he might not be able to find you all the way out here. Your face is dirt smeared and sweaty as he quickly throws himself towards you, wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your cheek gently, not caring about the grime, "I'm here, Love. I'll always be here." You tighten your arms around him impossibly tighter. He returns the gesture, taking a moment to appreciate it. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

geh weg von mir - get away from me Es ist okay - It's okay Ich werde dir nicht weh tun - I won't hurt you Wer bist du - Who are you Ich dachte, du kommst nicht - I thought you weren't coming Ich habe nie aufgehört zu suchen - I never stopped searching Nicht für eine Sekunde - Not for a second Dir ist kalt - You're cold Lass uns dich hier rausbringen - Lets get you out of here

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world

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whatdoseitmeantobehuman · 2 months ago

Text

Bad timing

ISO x female reader

Your first attempt at intimacy that morning was interrupted by your own startled yelp when Iso seemed to materialize beside you in the kitchen. Even after all this time, his silent movements—a remnant of his assassin days—still caught you off guard. "You need to wear a bell," you muttered, but leaned into his touch as he pressed you against the counter, one earbud dangling loose as he closed the distance. The kiss had barely begun when footsteps echoed down the hall. Iso pulled back instantly, combat instincts making him hyper-aware of approaching personnel.

Seconds later, Raze bounded in, completely oblivious to what she'd interrupted. Later, you found him in the training range, one earbud in as always, his movements precise and lethal as he practiced with his barrier. The way he moved was mesmerizing—each step calculated, each action purposeful. When he finally noticed you watching, his usual focused expression softened slightly.

This time, you made it as far as his jacket hitting the floor before Brimstone's voice crackled over the intercom about an urgent briefing. Iso's jaw tightened. "Always something," he murmured, already reaching for his discarded jacket. The professional mask slipped back into place, though you caught the lingering frustration in his eyes. The afternoon found you in his quarters, music playing softly from his speakers—something with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat under your palms.

His kisses were focused, deliberate, like everything else he did. Then KAY/O needed backup for a security sweep. "Your timing," Iso said flatly to the robot, "is impeccable." Evening brought another attempt, this time in a supposedly empty section of the compound. Iso had actually scouted the area first—old habits die hard—and deemed it clear. His hands were just sliding under your shirt when— "Oh! Uh, sorry, wrong turn!" Jett's hasty retreat was followed by Iso's barely audible Chinese curse.

"I once eliminated an entire security team without being detected," he muttered against your neck, "but apparently finding privacy here is impossible." You couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe we need a better strategy." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps." The solution, when it finally came, was characteristically Iso. He'd chosen his moment carefully, waiting until most agents were deployed on various missions. His barrier ability ensured absolute privacy, and he'd even set up a selective sound system that would mask any noise while still allowing him to hear potential threats—ever the professional, even in intimate moments.

"You really planned this out," you teased as he finally, finally got you alone. "Efficiency is important," he replied, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. One earbud still hung from his collar, soft music barely audible. "And I don't like being interrupted." "Is that why you scouted the entire floor first?" "Old habits." His hands slid to your waist. "Useful ones, though." This time, when he kissed you, there were no interruptions. Just the steady rhythm of his chosen soundtrack, the warmth of his hands, and the rare, complete focus of a man who usually had to stay alert for threats now entirely devoted to you. Worth the wait, you decided, as his music drowned out everything else.

#fanfic #valorant fanfiction #valorant fanfic #valorant x reader #video game #iso valorant #iso x reader #iso

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rookiesbookies · 1 year ago

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Please I need more strength kink like you wrote for König but for the text of the COD men. Does Soap show off and lift heavier when he sees you saunter into the gym? Does Ghost try not to pay attention as you stare? I am down bad for these boys

So this is the most recent ask Ive gotten but dont fret my other requesters, yalls are taking more time bc they’re longer form pieces (I dont want to spoil but honeymoon/consummation night with Ghost (doing some research for this one), some Konig wifey bits (there’s two or three), and Ghost’s wife wearing his mask) Im so excited you all are interacting with me I just wanna say. I love you all *MUAH* big kiss.

Also I took Keegan off this one bc I don’t think I have a lot of Keegan fans reading? (ik I love him tho) so if anyone wants it just put a comment and I’ll write one and edit it so its in here.

Edit right here: I put Keegan down at the bottom. Dw Keegan girlies he’s here now.

Another edit: I put Krueger bc a reblog asked for it

Without much more here’s:

Strength Kink with the 141

Masterlist is pinned as always, also let me know if yall want any as full blown fics.

Price

Price is an “old dog” as he calls himself. He knows he’s getting softer, the wrinkles are setting in, he doesn't quite have the body he used to as a LT. Kinda got a dad bod after adopting 3 boys.

First time he sees you drool over him? He is down fucking bad. Will do anything to see his sweet lady all red in the face over him again.

Fucking saunters over to you, hits you with “you can feel if ya like, love. Go on.” just holds his arms away from his chest while he’s in his tank top.

If you take him up on this offer (and I assume yall are dating at this point) and even just grab at a peck, he is tense. His abs are tight, his butt is clenched, he is doing it all to seem like he still has his young and sharp LT body.

He knows you dont care and love his dad bod and all his soft pillowy goodness but sometimes he feels like the pillsbury dough boy.

Absolutely would pick you up and carry you bridal style at any chance.

Tells you he’s “just practicing” however he is very clearly showing off.

If you come find him at the gym to drool all over him, that max he was only supposed to do one of per set, he is not repping.

“John, are you sure- I’ve never seen you lift this much you look red-”

“I'm alright, love, just doing my reps trying to set a new pr.” Little do you know that by repping this, this is his new pr.

Gaz and Soap are sitting there mouth open because Price has never done that and not fallen over and now he just KEEPS. GOING.

And Price’s wife just keeps drooling over him as Simon spots the poor guy.

(This is what i mean btw)

Soap

The worst about it of them all.

I'm telling you right now, if you have an oral fixation on his muscles, he will mate for life like a swan. Because if you mark up his muscles he will do EVERY SINGLE WORK OUT shirtless until Ghost is like “Johnny. You look like a slut and smell like a whore with all that cologne. We’re in the bloody gym.”

He will walk around shirtless in the tightest sweatpants to show off his thighs and abs to you.

Will bench press you.

Put your weight on the hip thrust and will call you over or send videos of him doing it.

If you’re sitting somewhere he will just pick you up and move you for the hell of it under the excuse he wanted to sit there just to see you get red.

If you compliment his body once, I'M TELLING YOU ONE TIME, he will buy the TIGHTEST shirts imaginable around the house to show off his shoulders, back, pecs, biceps, and abs.

If you even mention having a bad day, your face is going between his pecs. He also absolutely can do the thing where he can flex them one at a time and he does it 24/7 for fun.

Catch him planking at the gym?

Feeling bold?Let’s shimmy under the poor bastard to look up at him.

“Do push ups.”

“Bonnie, the fuck you mean-”

“Come down, get a kiss, and go back up?”

“And if I fall? Which I won’t but I gotta ask.”

“Can’t feel any worse than when you dive onto the bed to wake me up in the mornings.”

He’s floored. Goes down, gets his kiss, comes up.

Price has watched Soap do more pushups than he ever has outside of a punishment when he was in basic training. Johnny has half the mind to let himself drop, smoother you in sweaty hugs and kisses. But he doesn’t. Not until he’s shown off. It’s embarrassing how much sweat is dripping from him though. He’ll just say you both need a shower.

Ghost

Totally doesn't flex when he hugs you.

Oh you think he does?

If you ask him, you’re wrong. Simon is the most casual of them all.

He’ll just randomly pick you up.

Like throw you over his shoulder, hold you like a koala, bridal style, you name it. Unlike Price, who is more careful about it, Simon has been doing exercises to work on his balance so he can safely carry you down a flight on stairs.

If he catches you staring, its over for him. He’s blushing under his lil mask, acting like he doesnt see you.

If you walk up and open your mouth to talk to him, he’s not listening to a word of that blabbery. He’s focused on the way you watch his legs while he’s in the leg press. How if he flexes a bit more you have the pause so you don’t choke on your words.

If you’re the bold on and you get down to the level of his head because he can’t easily escape this machine right now to say something. I'm thinking like a “Simon, I’m going to need a thigh riding session at 1800 hours. Put that on your damn schedule.” And just walk out. Don’t elaborate.

He’s struggling to get out of the machine, considering chasing after you, possibly having a stroke over it. He’s so flustered he’s down right gasping for air. If he didn’t have shit to do today he’d scoop you up and show you want all these muscles could do just to get you to feel like how flustered he is.

Konig

(see the fic about his wife seeing him lift, its on my masterlist (its pinned))

Gaz

By the time you’ve started dating, you know Gaz is jacked. Just look at him ffs. Anyone could see it.

So you do the only reasonable thing and insist on being his gym partner.

And in turn he will insist on spotting your squats.

If you get so nervous you fail a set his plan springs into action. Bro has it lifted in one hand. He doesn't care if it's a lot. He WILL be lifting it in one hand just so you can see how strong he is.

“Kiss for your savor?” He asks.

“Sure.” You reply, pecking his lips.

But no no no.

“Love, I meant you’re actual savor.” He’d say, flexing that one arm and pointing to it.

Just roll your eyes and do it. It’s easier.

He is GLOWING for the rest of the day. He will now take any and all opportunities to lift heavy things for you.

That big box? Lifted. Come kiss his muscles. Cuz if you don’t he's picking you up and putting you in air jail for being ungrateful.

I feel like because Gaz is so lean its kinda a sleeper build situation? Could be completely using that term wrong but IDC.

Lowkey loves nothing more than you feeling up his abs under his shirt when yall are going to bed. Like your hands feel so nice on them when he’s flexing extra hard so they’re rock solid for you.

First time yall cuddled he almost passed out because he was trying to keep his muscles flexed for so long.

Edit: here’s Keegan

Keegan

Keegan was always walking around the house in the sluttiest tank tops and the lowest waist line sweatpants you’ve ever seen.

He had been showing off since he first met you, so I’ll tell you how it happened.

What did he wear on your first date? Tight ass t shirt and a leather jacket with black jeans.

He essentially was giving a strip show when he slowly took off that jacket, made sure you were watching when he did it with a smug look.

“What wrong, doll? Distracted?” He was definitely flexing hard. Pecs and biceps on full display and don't get me started on how he was clenching to get his abs to show through.

He made sure to get real close to.

Oh dear is that a dirty puddle, let him just… yk… casually pick you up to carry you over the smallest puddle ever.

And when he’s at the gym? You are getting tons of selfies. Those videos of him curling weights that are slightly too heavy all because he knows you like the sound of the groans he makes as he struggles to lift it. Oh he is hip thrusting your weight and a half, so you know you’ll never be too heavy. There’s a video he sent that was 10+ minutes of just him thrusting your weight. You honestly thought it was looped.

Oh and he carries your weight when he runs on the treadmill so he knows he and run and keep you safe if need be.

Here’s Krueger (i got carried away, enjoy)

Krueger:

Sebstian knows he’s already strong.

Picking you up and benching you is his favorite hobby. The way you can't help but giggle and he has to scold you to stop wiggling.

He’s always throw around his weight with you. He knows he’s a big. He loves to lay on you to stop you from moving.

Loves to have you lay on his torso with the weight at his hips as he works on his hip thrusts. Got kicked out of a gym because it was dangerous so he got weights to do it at home. Will do it shirtless so you can trace his tattoos.

Definitely has never told you he committed murder because he doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like he’s your savior as you rub his sore muscles.

God he loves having you rub his muscles, he just tries not to drool as you rub his calves and biceps with all the force your hands can muster to gently rub the knots away. One time he felt so good he almost cried as you rubbed one out of the back of his neck, he got so bricked he couldnt help it he felt like he was gasping for air the pleasure was so intense.

He’d never tell you that tho, no he’d rather die and speak up and tell you how good it feels when your massage his muscles while planting small kisses after every knot you work out. Definitely going to keep asking you to work his aches away… wonder if he can convince you he has a knot in his dick, no no wouldn’t do that to you not yet.

#cod x reader #call of duty #john price #captain price #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig #soap x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap cod #soap x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick

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sgojoenthusiast · 2 years ago

Text

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY SEVEN: PSYCHO KILLER.

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summary: Inspired by the 'Scream' movies - After recieving a threatening phonecall one night and being attacked by a killer wearing a ghostface mask, you realise he'll stop at nothing to have you - sorry, they.

CW: fem reader, murder and violent descriptions, ghostface! gojo, ghostface! geto, consensual sex, p in v, mentions of bullying, crying, trauma, 'slut', 'sweetheart', 'princess', oral - both m&f recieving, fingering, mouth fucking, threesome, dom! geto, gojo & reader are both switches.

word count: 8.3k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

masterlist.

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A few days ago, you were alone in what used to be the comfort of your own home, but what was now a building you couldn’t step foot in without the ever present feeling of dread washing over you.

Simply, you had been watching TV, enjoying your own company, when suddenly, your telephone erupted to life as the noise of its ringing echoed off the walls and alerted you incessantly.

Groaning, you reluctantly got up from your comfortable position on the sofa and shuffled over to where you kept the telephone.

Picking it up, you hit the answer button, despite not recognising the number.

“Hello?” you voiced, curious to who was ringing you during the dark hours of the night.

“Hello.” A dark voice returned. It wasn’t one you recognised, causing your curiosity to be peaked as you prodded for further information.

“Who is this?”

The voice on the other end was quick to reply, though it wasn’t the answer you were hoping for. “Who are you?”

Rolling your eyes, you smirked at his teasing tone, although you couldn’t really tell whether that was just how his voice was. It was low yet incredibly attractive.

“I asked you first.” You replied, returning his mischievous tone and making him laugh.”

“I apologise, I must have gotten the wrong number.”

“Don’t worry about it, it happens all the time. Bye now.” You said before hanging up the call and laughing slightly to yourself as you thought you heard a quiet ‘wait’ from the other end, though you weren’t positive considering the phone had been away from your ear at that point.

Before you could walk off and back to the comfort of your sofa, the phone began to ring again. Rolling your eyes, you once again reached over to answer, letting out an annoyed greeting to the person on the receiving end.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I just wanna get to know you a bit better. You gotta boyfriend?”

The same voice from the previous call. You were surprised by his forwardness and slightly hesitant to reply considering you had no clue who he was. However, you saw no other reason not to play along with his games.

Laughing gently, you replied. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t really like the guys at my college.”

He let out a hum of understanding. “What, you don’t like your college?”

“Just the people. I have my two best friends, but other than that, everyone else kinda sucks. They treat me like shit but I don’t have it in myself to care anymore.” You scolded yourself mentally for admitting that to a stranger and making yourself seem so vulnerable, yet there was something so familiar about the voice on the other end that made you feel like you could open up.

It was true, however. The people that surrounded you at your college were consistently filling your ears with remarks that were laced with an unjustifiable hatred and yet said like you had all been nothing but friends for the past year. Their rude comments disguised as jokes.

Nevertheless, you had no issue brushing it off. You knew the reason they hated you was because they either wanted to be friends with Suguru and Satoru, your best friends, or be with them, all while they had found themselves attached to you - and only you. Completely uninterested in anyone else’s advances.

Of course, they were friends with everyone. Yet they were never hesitant to cancel plans and ditch others to hang out with you - which only furthered everyone else’s hatred.

You didn’t think that they knew of everyone else’s torment, considering everyone was so nice to you whenever you found yourself in the company of Gojo and Geto. You preferred to keep it that way, not wanting to bother them with something so small.

Unbeknownst to you, however, they knew. They knew about every insult thrown in your direction and it annoyed them endlessly - both just as desperate to do something about it yet they knew if they insulted people back, those same people would only blame you and hate you even more.

You met both Gojo and Geto in high school.

At first, you paid no attention to either of them. Truthfully, you would have preferred it if they had left you alone. However, as determined as they both are, they only latched onto you more. Overtime, you became more used to their company and your curt responses became wholehearted laughs and endless conversations.

The pair would do anything for you - and you could sincerely say that feeling was mutual.

“I could make it all go away sweetheart.” He replied. His words were ominous, confusing and left a sudden striking feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach, like you could feel the blood-thirsty, malicious intent behind his words impaling you like a knife through your stomach.

“What do you mean?” You whispered, taken aback and suddenly apprehensive and cautious.

“Let me ask you a question… What do you think,” he paused, and for a moment, you could have sworn you heard the sound of steel against steel on the other end of the call, which caused your heart to speed up and images of knives impaling your skin to flash into your mind. It irritated you that he’d ask questions but never answer them. “… about scary movies?”

He wasn’t serious, was he? Was this an attempt to scare you and trick you into believing that he was about to murder you? Well, he had certainly picked the wrong victim. Even despite your previous slip-up, you were a lot stronger than he must have thought.

You scoffed, muttering a quick yet dismissive ‘very funny’ before hanging up and walking back over to the sofa. Though you wouldn’t deny the fear that coursed through your veins and the prominent tremble in your hands.

His words were replaying in your mind like a broken record as your head spinned with all the meanings behind his gruesome statement.

Before you could sit back down again, the phone began to ring once more. Your fear only increased with each loud ring of the phone and you were stuck on what to do about the situation.

You could call your best friends, yet at this hour, they’d most likely be asleep. Besides, if you were to tell Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru that you thought a serial killer was stalking you and tormenting you over the phone, they’d have laughed in your face. At least Suguru would have given you a sympathetic smile with an almost mocking ‘good luck’.

No, you were fine. To tell the truth, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the so-called serial killer was Gojo or Geto pulling a prank on you. And if it was, you’d undoubtedly scold them for it later and ignore them until they made it up for you in the form of all your favourite foods.

You let the phone ring until it automatically ended. Yet, whoever was on the other side of the call, was incredibly persistent and committed to talk to you.

Growing more and more frustrated you picked the phone back up, bringing it to your ear before threatening whoever it was.

“If you don’t stop calling me, I swear to god i will-“

“Shut the fuck up and listen.” He responded, cutting you off and silencing you immediately. Swallowing deeply, you were far too scared to continue your threat and instead opted for listening to whatever demands they had. “Good girl. Now, I want you to come and unlock your front door. You wouldn’t want to displease me, would you?”

Your eyes widened. He was outside of your house, waiting for you to open your door, most likely so that he could slice you open. Yet, a wave of realisation washed over you followed by one of relief.

So he couldn’t get in? This was perfect, he had unknowingly given you an opportunity for you to escape.

You ran over to the window and peeked through the blinds to check if he was by your door, letting out a sigh of relief when seeing that he wasn’t before sucking in a shaky one when it registered that you had no idea where he actually was which would make escape far more difficult.

“If you try to escape, I will gut you. I can see your every movement from right here, so just open the fucking door.”

You wanted to call his bluff, but decided it was a waste of breath.

Hand hovering over the lock, you contemplated opening it as you had no idea of what his motive was and whether or not you had greater odds at surviving if you attempted to sneak out now.

Before you could make your mind up, your feet had decided for you, running towards the back door and unlocking it in order to allow you to force it open.

To your dismay, you couldn't get one foot outside the door before you were yanked back forcefully by your arm and thrown to the floor.

All you could see was a figure dressed in all black with his back to you as he shut the door and locked it once again before throwing the key into your bin. Watching him turn around felt like the longest wait of your life, and when he did, the sickening feeling in your stomach increased at the sight of his terrifying mask. Its eyes were sunken and its mouth was hung open as though it was screaming.

Suddenly coming back to your senses, you scrambled back and quickly got up, running to the kitchen to grab a knife in defence as the masked killer stalked behind you.

From behind the kitchen counter, you aimed your knife at him in an attempt to get him to stay away from you. “How come you needed the door open if you were already inside?” You asked, not really expecting a response but needing one nevertheless.

You were met with a simple shrug before he began walking towards you again, pace quicker than before as he completely ignored the weapon you possessed.

You swung at him but he dodged, grabbing your wrist and gripping so tightly that you let out a scream in agony before dropping the blade to the floor - the sound echoing throughout the kitchen as the steel met the cool tiles.

Taking your knee, you aimed for his stomach and put all your force into making the two meet, causing him to stumble back and grip onto his stomach in pain. Forgetting your weapon, you aimed for the front door.

Fiddling with the lock, you struggled to get it to open because of your trembling hands.

Looking back you saw him gripping onto the doorframe, staring at you with nothing but what you perceived as murderous intent deep within the black holes of his mask.

You cursed, giving up on the door when you remembered that you had left your bedroom window open earlier. You were screaming for help, hoping that whatever small chance there was that someone was outside at this time of night, it would be someone brave enough to help you.

Stumbling up the stairs, you felt a hand on your ankle pulling you down. There was a loud thump followed by a pained groan from your lips when you hit your head on the stairs.

His gloved hand was on your arm and he turned you over. You stared up at him for a few moments as he hovered above you in thought, seemingly conflicted on what to do next. Taking the opportunity, you used your leg to kick him off you and continued to run up the stairs. He followed you up and through the hallway with more frustration in his heavy steps.

Running, you attempted to slow the masked killer by pushing random objects from their place and into his path but your efforts were futile. He was able to dodge them all and continue to follow you undisrupted.

He finally grabs you before putting the knife to your throat. You struggled in his grip, screaming for help and thrashing about as though being irrational would save your life. The knife began to trail down the side of your face and down your body. He cut one of the straps from your top, causing you to whimper in fear of what else he might do.

His gloved hand ran up the side of your arm in a prolonged, teasing manner before wrapping his hand around your throat resulting in your mouth widening as you gasped. It was strange how his grip wasn’t nearly as strong as it would have had to be in order to kill you when he was clearly here to take your life.

Your entire life was flashing before your eyes.

Suddenly, the sounds of sirens rang prominent through your street and pulled up outside your house.

You let out a choked sob in gratitude for whatever god had brought the police to your house and saved your life whilst tears streamed down your face.

The ghostface killer, on the other hand, looked less than pleased, evident by the grip that he had on you beginning to tighten.

You could hear his breathing through his mask as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, whilst simultaneously bringing a voice changer to the mouth of his mask. “Until next time, princess.”

There was something so strangely familiar about his teasing tone and flirtatious nickname, yet you couldn’t quite place your finger on how you recognised the way he spoke.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realised that you were no longer in the arms of a murderer, but being shaken out of your daze by a police officer.

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Now, a few days later, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of death looming over your shoulder.

You constantly felt like you were in danger and you were having a hard time trying to leave behind that night's incidents, especially when you closed your eyes and saw that ghostly face and were woken up after feeling a hand wrapped around your throat.

It turns out, one of your neighbours had heard your screams and had decided to phone the police - to which you were extremely thankful for. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be able to sleep until the killer was caught.

Currently, you were at a party you had been dragged to reluctantly by your best friends.

They were far more lively and sociable than you and had somehow convinced you that coming out was beneficial for your gradual deteriorating mental health after the attack you had suffered. You had tried to argue, stating that ‘just because they hide all their feelings behind stupid parties and alcohol doesn’t mean you have to as well.’

However, they, especially Gojo, were very persistent and wouldn’t leave you alone until you had begrudgingly accepted.

Lights flashed throughout the house and bodies pressed against each other tightly. All you were trying to do was make it to the less cramped kitchen in order to free yourself from feeling like you were suffocating.

The entire night, the same people who mocked and ridiculed you everyday of your life were giving you false sympathy and support which only made you feel worse. They were only doing it to look good as they had never cared about your feelings beforehand.

Still, it enabled you to be able to come to this party which whilst you weren’t entirely thrilled to be there, you were curious to see what it was like without the boundless whispers.

Finally, you made it to the kitchen and when you saw a flurry of white hair accompanied by the tied back, black hair, you let a smile creep onto your face as you approached them.

Gojo noticed you first, a wide grin appearing on his face when you locked eyes. He took you into a tight hug, squeezing you with such sincere comfort that you could have broken down in his arms right then and there. “How’s my favourite girl doing, huh?”

“I’m fine.” You said, laughing gently at his affection.

You turned to look at Suguru, who had a plain annoyed look on his face as he shook his head at you. “Yeah because you look fine, princess.”

Rolling your eyes at his nickname, you suddenly felt a pang in your chest. You felt as though you were missing something - like there was something so obvious right in front of you that you were just too blind to see.

The two boys glanced at you, then to each other and then back at you once more when they noticed your unexpected stupor.

Feeling a flick on your forehead, you looked up and saw Gojo looking at you over his glasses with a concerned look on his face.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

Once again, they looked at each other, not convinced at all by your statement.

A silence hung over the three of you for a moment, and during that moment, everything was oddly quiet.

The music had faded yet the people around you were still dancing and drinking like they weren’t feeling the fear that was engraved into your skin. Not even Suguru or Satoru had noticed the shift in the air that was consuming you and strangling you, and they went through every emotion you experienced right there with you.

The pair simply nodded each other before excusing themselves and giving you one final hug before exiting, leaving you to drown in your emotions without a lifeguard to help you come out of the water.

You stood in the kitchen with a drink in your hand and alone with the toxic company of your own thoughts for what felt like centuries when the power seemingly went out without warning.

The music stopped flowing through the room and bouncing obnoxiously off the walls, and everyone’s enthusiastic cheers and shouts became confused murmurs and quiet chatter.

You assumed it was some asshole trying to scare everyone and simply scoffed at their attempt. It was either that, or someone had drunkenly managed to cut the power out. Nevertheless, you shrugged it off as not a big deal and waited for it to come back on.

However, when it did, your heart dropped at the sight - and even more so at the sound of laughter as everyone turned around to look at you, so much for fake sympathy.

Stood on a table in the middle of the room was some guy with a similar mask to the one you had described to everyone. The same lifeless, black eyes that melted down the mask’s face and the warped scream sketched onto it.

Their attempt was pathetic really, especially when they hadn’t even gone for the full look and donned their regular clothes in place of the outfit the killer was wearing.

Still, you were pissed off.

Whoever it was was staring right at you, pointing a knife in your direction and shouting dramatically some shit about killing you. You weren’t entirely paying attention, moreso figuring out how you were going to leave when so many people were blocking your path.

“Fucking attention whore just dying for everyone to shower her with sympathy. I’ll fucking kill you–” He was cut off suddenly, everyone’s laughter dying down as they turned their heads in his direction.

There was a red colour spreading through the material of his shirt, yet no one had truly registered what had happened before he collapsed on the table and revealed an actual ghostface mask - wearing a void of black.

His eyes scanned the room before they met yours. Tilting his head, he waved at you before lunging for his next victim.

Everyone was sent into a state of panic as they all rushed for the door before someone called out claiming that it was locked. Sounds of screaming could have been heard from miles away.

You searched everywhere for Gojo and Geto but couldn’t see them anywhere, instantly, your mind went to the worst possible scenario. However, realistically, you knew it would take a lot to kill just one of the two, let alone both of them. They had probably gone out for more alcohol, the thought of them being alive made you relax slightly, before tensing back up again after realising the situation you were in.

You ran through the house and pushed through the cluster of bodies in an attempt to find somewhere you could hide.

There was a part of you that understood the masked killer was after you and that maybe, the rest of these people would have a chance at survival if you turned yourself into his possession. There was a deeper part, however, that didn’t want to save their lives. You never wanted to hear their mocking laughter ever again. You wouldn’t admit it though, not even internally.

You had no idea how one person was managing to kill so many people so incredibly fast, yet it had only been half an hour of dodging bodies and swapping between hiding places before most people were either dead, or had managed to escape. It was tricky, yet as the party was held at Gojo and Geto’s shared home, you knew your way around the first floor pretty well.

Admittedly, you had no idea how people were managing to escape. Especially now that the murderer was blocking it.

You had already checked all the first floor windows only to find them locked.

There were bodies everywhere, blood staining the floor and lifeless eyes watching your every quiet move.

At first, watching people get killed off one by one was horrifying and you had to place a shaking hand over your mouth to prevent your choked sobs and gasps from making any noise that may draw attention to you.

Each body was so brutally violated, not only from the vile acts committed by the killer and his knife, but also from the scrambling bodies treading mercilessly over bodies in order to escape, leaving them mangled and unrecognisable by most.

The entire scene was truly horrifying.

Currently, you were panting heavily against the wall, the ghostface killer just around the corner from you, evident by the stomping of his boots and the sound of his breathing through his mask.

Taking a peek around the corner, you saw that same mask of death that haunted you since the moment he broke into your house and you were consumed with insurmountable hatred and rage.

However, when you quickly turned back around so that he wouldn’t see you, you looked to the right of you down the corridor and saw another one staring at you with a knife in his hand.

There had been two all along. That must have explained how he was both in your house and calling you from outside at the same time - and why he asked you to open the door.

His finger ran over the blade as he tilted his head at you before he gradually started to inch closer and closer to you.

The sound of his boots hitting the blood-soaked floor screamed at you to run, yet for a few moments, you struggled to understand how there were two and how you were going to get yourself out of this situation.

The ghost-faced figure dragged the sharp edge of his knife along the wall as he began to make his way towards you.

You snapped out of your petrified daze and made a quick turn towards the staircase behind you, without thinking about the second ghostface that stood right around the corner. Although, after the realisation when you heard the second pair of footsteps trail after you, you couldn’t find it within you to care as your mind was set only on escape.

You had been to Gojo and Geto’s house before, but you didn’t have the entire blueprint plastered onto the back of your eyelids and it’s not as if you had any reason to go upstairs so really, you had no idea where you were going.

Struggling to breathe, you grabbed onto the side of the wall for support as you looked back to see where they were.

Both of them were practically strolling as they made their way past the stairs and through the long corridor. It pissed you off to no extent to see them sauntering behind you as if catching you would require minimum effort and like they had all the time in the world.

“Cocky assholes.” You muttered, before beginning to run again.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you panicked and turned to enter the room to your left in order to check if there was a window that you could have escaped from. With every passing moment, your heart began to race faster as your options thinned.

Barging down the door, your eyes widened at the sight of a window in the room in front of the bed and you were overcome with the feeling of future safety.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in your rushed steps towards the window as you reached out to it in order to pull it open.

Your heart sank at the feeling of resistance from the window. No matter how hard you pulled, it wouldn’t budge. Was it locked?

Looking around the room, you took note of how it was most likely Gojo’s due to Geto’s more simplistic taste. You darted towards his drawer, rummaging through his things in a desperate attempt to find a key to unlock his window with. You slammed your fist on his desk and kicked it aggressively as tears fell down your cheeks at the disappointment and fear you were filled with after realising you had no hope of escaping.

The sound of the door creaking open sent shivers down your spine and you were convinced you could have thrown-up at the looming feeling of death peering over your shoulder in anticipation.

You whimpered in fear as you scrambled to get as far away from the pair as possible, backing yourself into a corner in the process which only allowed them to get closer and closer to your trembling body.

You were fucked.

They had you cornered. They were going to kill you. Right after you were convinced you had managed to escape, you were about to be slaughtered mercilessly by two psychos in ghostface costumes, just like the poor victims you had watched get killed brutally before yourself.

You slid down the wall in the corner, accepting your fate. Still, you refused to completely give up.

Mustering up whatever was left in your lungs due to your breathless state, you screamed for help as loudly as you could. It had worked a few nights before, so it wasn’t completely futile, you had managed to convince yourself.

Although you were losing hope, you didn’t want to stop fighting. You didn’t stop when he had you pinned against your stairs or was holding a knife to your throat, so you wouldn’t stop now.

Gojo and Geto had to still be alive. Amongst the mass of dead bodies, not a single one looked like either of theirs. They were around, probably looking for you, you just knew it.

So, you shouted their names at the top of your lungs as you sobbed. “I swear to fucking god, my friends are gonna get here and kick your asses.” You managed to choke out.

One of them laughed involuntarily, forgetting to use the voice changer. You refused to believe how recognisable that laugh was until he slowly reached up to remove his mask - strands of snowed hair falling into place.

“You hear that, Suguru? She’s gonna get her best friends on us. How cute!” Satoru exclaimed, that same smile that would, under any other circumstance, force a smile out of you as well.

Your head snapped in the direction of the ghostface next to him, refusing to believe Suguru would take any part of this as well.

Nothing but sorrow and grief filled your heart when he too removed his mask to reveal your other best friend underneath it, as though the two men you cherished and loved with your entire heart had died and in their place were two psychos simply borrowing their bodies to torment you or punish you for whatever you had done to deserve such grief.

“What the fuck have you two done?” was all you could let out. “You killed all those people. You- you’re fucking psychopaths!”

Suguru looked genuinely surprised at your anger, as though he wasn’t expecting it. Truthfully, he wasn’t. He knew you’d be angry for the whole attempting to kill you thing, but everyone else? They hated you, so why did it matter? Afterall, everything they had done was for you. It was all according to their plan.

Your anger irritated them a bit, how could you be so ungrateful? How couldn’t you see that everything they had done was for your benefit? It was clear what their motive was now, wasn’t it?

“So fucking ungrateful. You hated most of these people and so we killed them for you.” He defended, vexation laced into each syllable.

“For me?” You muttered, eyes wide with disbelief, your breathing out of control. “You can’t use me as an excuse, I didn't ask for any of this!”

Suguru simply leaned back slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he shook his head at you before letting out a low chuckle. Gojo looked equally as amused.

“Really? Not after that fucker humiliated you? Not after everyone sat and laughed at your trauma after pretending to be so supportive of you?”

Quickly, you added on: “Trauma you gave me.” Gojo and Geto simply ignored that part as if your mental health was simply collateral damage and that what they have given you is bigger than what they took from you.

“I saw relief in your eyes today. Relief that now they’re all dead, you can live happily. You’re pushing down how you really feel because you're ashamed but, sweetheart, you don’t have to hide it from us.” Suguru continued, kneeling down to get on your level the same as Gojo as he smiled at you and took your cheek in his hand - you hated how you didn’t even flinch and you were disgusted at how you leaned into his warm touch. He laughed. “I mean, you think we’re gonna judge you after being the ones to kill them?”

You hated this. You hated how they killed all those people and used you to justify what they had done. You hated how that meant your hands were stained with their blood. You hated the feeling inside of you that lurked beneath the hatred - the one of freedom and ease.

You hated how right Suguru was.

Tears trickled down your cheeks. You were filled to the brim with revulsion and self-loathing.

“Fuck she’s crying, Suguru. Aint she so hot when she cries?” Gojo said, his eyes swarming with adoration and excitement. One of his hands went to wipe the tears of your cheeks as he tutted sympathetically. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got you now, yeah?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from nodding whilst you bit your lip to try and stop more tears from slipping.

Once again, Suguru was the one to speak up, Satoru too entranced with how you looked when you cried. “Here’s what's gonna happen, sweet thing,” His voice was soothing and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and rest your head on Gojo’s calming hand which was running his thumb over your cheek. “The reason we attacked you first was so that the police would feel more inclined to believe you. You’re gonna tell them the killers got away and that you didn’t see their face, okay? We might have to hurt you a bit, but we’ll do the same to ourselves, is that okay, sweetheart?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. You couldn’t believe what you were doing but you refused to lose Gojo and Geto and despite all evidence pointing against them being amicable and not just feeding you lies so that they could kill you later, you wanted so desperately to trust them and have them by your side forever.

And when you noticed the way Gojo’s eyes were lingering too often on the tear of your shirt which revealed more of your chest than before, your mind began to race with thoughts of being theirs.

But, that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? So what if Gojo’s eyes were lingering, it was to be expected of him, really. He’d always tease you flirtatiously and stare at you shamelessly, but you took that as Gojo being Gojo. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the teasing and staring though.

However, this was the first time your mind had run with the possibility of being with either of them, and you had never noticed the tingling sensation within you when either of them so much as grazed your skin until this moment.

The night's events had brought around something dark and untouched within you - something that forced your eyes to wander to whatever part of their skin was exposed and your mind to ponder what was underneath the rest of it.

Both of them stood up and offered their hands to help you stand as well - to which you took both.

Gojo, however, thought it would be funny to tug you into him far too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. Luckily for him, that was the final string that needed to be snapped in order for you to make your own move and prove to them how devoted you were to the pair. Prove that no matter what crimes they committed - you’d be on their side.

“If the two of you wanted to fuck me, you could have asked without making me think you were gonna kill me in the process.” You stated bluntly. The pair both looked at you with an equal amount of disbelief - Gojo being the first to respond to your offer rather eagerly as he pulled you further into his chest

“Oh yeah? My girl would have said yes, hm? Such a slut, wanting her best friends to fuck her.” His voice was darker and lower than before, yet it was much more different (in a way better way) to the voice he would use when he put on his mask. “Plus, where’s the fun in just asking to fuck you?”

Geto came up behind you after snapping out of his daze of doubt, pressing himself up against your back. He immediately noticed the way your body reacted, nudging yourself into him, wanting to get as close to the pair as you could. “Well, why don’t we then?”

Your hand went to Gojo’s chest for stability as he looked down at you with that same cocky smirk and those bright blue, lust-filled eyes. “We- We can’t here! Some people got out, they've probably told the police, and I think having sex in a house where there are dead bodies rotting downstairs is kinda suspicious.”

Geto tutted disapprovingly. “What, after all we’ve done for you tonight? You don’t wanna make it up to us?” His hands roamed your hips before moving to your thighs. In a way that sent shivers throughout your entire body, one of his hands slowly went to creep in between your thighs and under your skirt before it brushed briefly over your clothed pussy.

You whined so quietly that they could only hear because of how close they were to you.

Suguru started to kiss down your exposed neck - making it harder and harder for you to stick to reason and wait until you had left.

Satoru, on the other hand, had his hands wherever he could touch you. They skimmed across your breasts over your shirt and down your hips. His face got closer to your own, his breath fanning your face as he nudged you with his nose before connecting your lips.

They were so painfully persuasive it killed you.

“O-okay-”

You could barely get out the last syllable before they had you thrown onto Satoru’s bed.

Whilst Geto was closer to the headboard, Gojo was on the end of the bed and had you crawling over his lap and his tongue shoved deep in your throat as Geto’s hands roamed your body and began to peel off your clothes.

At some point, you found yourself helplessly making out with Gojo, completely bare as they were. You were so lost in the intoxication that was Satoru’s lips you hadn’t even been able to comprehend either of them removing their clothes or your own.

Your hand trailed across Gojo’s lap and slowly to the base of his dick before taking it in your hold, causing him to groan into your lips and for you to rub your thighs against each other in anticipation.

Breaking the kiss, you bring your hand up to your mouth and spit before bringing it back down to slowly start pumping Gojo’s dick. Your thumb swirled around the tip, teasing it slightly before you reconnected your lips with his - not before examining the dumbfounded yet amazed look on his face.

His hand went to your face and cupped it gently, deepening the kiss whilst moaning and cursing shamelessly into your mouth as he praised you for how good you were making him feel.

Suguru had moved to the side of the two of you, watching peacefully as he took his own dick into his hand and moved it slowly - content with just watching the scene unfold.

Your pussy was dripping so heavily it began to drip down the side of your thighs. Geto couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight as he wanted nothing more to bury his head in between your thighs. However, for now, he was happy to examine every move you made and analyse every sigh from your lips.

You and Gojo were all over each other, placing your lips wherever they’d reach, leaving marks and bruises on each other and jerking him off so teasingly slow it had him cursing at you and filling your head with threats of everything he’d do to you once his dick was inside of you. You simply shrugged off every word that left his glossed lips.

It didn’t take long for Suguru to become impatient, along with yourself who was becoming particularly frustrated with the lack of stimulation and attention on your pussy - or that's what you thought anyway. If you had so much as looked in the direction of Suguru, you would have noticed the way his hooded eyes were stuck on the way your pussy looked from behind. Unfortunately, your attention was strictly on making Gojo regret every teasing remark he had made in the past.

“Don’t be so greedy, Satoru. I’m here too, you know.” He said, before sitting back against the headboard and pulling you onto his lap instead of over Gojo’s - the latter who pouted slightly but showed no sign of retaliation.

Instead, he opted for going over to you with the most devilish grin on his face which caused you to swallow nervously and in regret at teasing him for so long.

Suguru radiated with dominance and control whilst you and Gojo fought each other for whatever Geto had left of it.

Suguru’s large, veiny hands trailed up the bare skin of your body, his fingertips were cool against your warm flesh.

You could feel the way he was desperately holding back, so taking things into your own hands, you pushed back on him slightly, earning a deep ‘fuck’ spilling from his lips as his hands squeezed your hips in a warning.

Satoru was now kissing your thighs, leaving marks littered across the flesh as a sign of proving who you belong to - who you’ve always belonged to even before you realised it.

His soft lips hovered over your soaked pussy, but before he could tease, Suguru gave him a warning glare, to which Satoru simply huffed at the blatant ‘favouritism’ as he would call it (However, Suguru doesn’t think he could ever choose between either of you).

Geto’s rough hands went to part your thighs in order to give Gojo some room.

Gojo’s tongue glided through your folds and grazed over your clit, causing you to attempt to buck your hips up to meet his tongue, however the grip Geto had on you was firm, making your attempt seem pathetic.

Then, Geto took his hand and forced you to look to the side of you in order for him to capture your lips. You gasped and whined into his mouth when Gojo shoved two of his fingers into your gaping hole whilst his tongue circled your clit.

“Tell me,” Geto started, his lips now barely an inch away from your own. “Who else has fucked this cute pussy, hm?”

His hand on your hip intensified its hold at the thought of someone else having you.

Your face felt warm, not liking where this conversation was going. “U-uh… Well there was Tom but that was it.” You admitted, feeling hot all over.

Suguru hummed in understanding, before turning his attention to Gojo whose tongue was lapping at your dripping pussy like he’d been starved. “Satoru, did we kill him or not?” He asked in a similar tone to which you would ask someone the time.

Reluctantly Gojo removed his tongue from your messy cunt, although his fingers were still pumping viciously inside of you making you squirm and whine. He looked up at the ceiling, face scrunching as though he was lost in thought. “I think so… yeah. Yeah we did. I remember ‘cause he started begging for his life and shit.” Satoru laughed like it was an inside joke or a past memory of something lighthearted and funny. “Was he that pathetic when you fucked him?”

You couldn’t even concentrate enough to answer him. All you could do was writhe and moan in pleasure as he fucked you dumb with just his tongue and fingers. So instead, Suguru answered for you.

“Shit, bet he couldn’t handle a pussy like this, hm? You seriously let that guy fuck you when we were right there, sweetheart? Shit, I’m not happy about that, princess. What do you think, Satoru?” His eyes never left yours, his lips never moved further away.

“Think she’s a slut for fucking such a loser. I also think that I should have saved his death for last, just so he could watch us fuck her brains out like she deserves - like a slut deserves.” He replied before diving straight back into your pussy as though he could get drunk off the taste.

Geto simply chuckled at his words in agreement.

With every passing second and every flick of Gojo’s tongue, you became closer and closer to your release. Your hands went to thread themselves in his hair and tugged slightly at his snowy stands before whimpering chants of ‘I’m so close.’

Yet, you really shouldn’t have teased Gojo earlier. After all your years of friendship, you should have understood that whatever you give to him, he’ll get you back ten times harder. And he did, with an approving nod from Suguru - you swore they could read each other’s minds.

Seconds before you reached your high and succumbed to the euphoric feeling of Gojo’s tongue and fingers playing with you so nicely, he pulled away - ruining your orgasm and leaving you confused and crying.

Geto simply shushed you, running his thumb along your thigh in a somewhat soothing manner as you squirmed around and pressed your thighs together, aching for some semblance of friction or pleasure.

You sobbed and begged the pair but they both ignored you remorselessly, in fact, Geto seemed more disappointed in you for not seeing that coming.

You could feel the satisfied grin plastered onto Gojo’s face as he pressed his lips against your thighs and muttered faux apologies against your skin.

“I’m so sorry, baby. You’ll forgive me won't you? Couldn’t help myself, I mean, really. Did you expect to get away with teasing me like that earlier? Now you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, princess?”

However, no amount of apologies was making the frown on your face disappear. So, in order to change that, Gojo once again had you in his hold, flipping you around so that you were now on your hands and knees in front of him whilst he rubbed his dick between the fat of your ass cheeks.

Suguru’s dick was right in front of you, and you looked up at him with pleading eyes, so desperate to take him into your mouth and make him feel good. His eyes always seemed to soften around you as they did now whilst he nodded at you gently - as if he hadn’t just taken part in killing half your classmates.

Your hands went to grip his thighs before you started to lick and suck on the tip of his cock.

Satoru was spreading the fat of your ass, gawking at how beautiful you were before taking one of his hands and slapping your ass roughly.

You jumped, whining around the tip of Geto’s dick causing him to groan before pulling your head back to look at him with annoyed eyes and pouty lips. Gojo simply shrugged and said: “We did say we’d have to hurt you a bit, right? How else would they ever believe us?”

Before you could counter his dumb remark, Geto’s hand guided your head back to his cock before shoving it past your lips - unwilling to wait any longer. He shifted, getting onto his knees so he could begin to fuck your mouth ruthlessly.

On the other hand, Gojo was still teasing his dick through the folds of your pussy. However, he could only last so long before needing to feel the tightness of your cunt around his dick, so steadily, he pushed the tip of his dick inside of you causing you to moan around Geto’s cock.

Suguru couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your mouth around him. He was desperate to see you gagging and bawling around his dick because you were struggling to take him - yet he knew you’d take him without complaint.

Soon, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. You couldn’t speak, all you could do was whine and slobber around Geto’s dick as both of them bullied their thick cocks into you mercilessly.

The way the veins on Gojo’s dick dragged along your walls had your eyes rolling back into your head and his hand began to slip down to your pussy and play with your clit - willing to see you through your impending orgasm this time.

Your thighs and the sheets are drenched, everything they did was simply making you wetter and wetter.

Geto’s hand rested lazily on the top of your head, not pushing you down but keeping it there as a reminder of where he needed you the most. “Fuck, sweetheart. Doing so well for both of us. We gotta switch later, Gojo. You have to feel her mouth.”

Gojo nodded instantly in agreement. “She’s so fuckin’ perfect. Made to be our little slut, weren’t you, princess?”

Again, you couldn’t respond. All you could offer was a garbled whine in agreement and hope they understood the message.

“Who would’ve thought our sweet little best friend was such a slut for our dicks.” Satoru commented, lost in the feeling of your walls hugging his dick which only clenched further at his degrading words.

You were just a dumb, choking mess. Only able to gag and slobber all over Geto’s dick whilst your mind could only think about the way Gojo’s was hitting your sweet spot so effortlessly.

It was like a domino effect, the way Geto’s orgasm sent you spiralling into your own at the feeling of his hot cum filling your mouth and dripping down your chin as he fucked himself into your face desperately.

And then, due to the feeling of your pussy clenching so tightly around his dick, Gojo was followed right behind you, spilling himself within you as he moaned and cursed whilst fucking both you and himself right through your orgasms.

You collapsed onto Suguru, who took you into his comforting embrace so naturally. And, as needy as he ever was, Gojo fell right onto the two of you.

The three of you lay there for a moment, ignoring the inevitable consequences you’d soon have to slither your way out of. You could have laid there in Suguru’s arms with Satoru’s breath hitting your face and his stare burning holes into your skin for years to come, however, halfway to drifting off, the sounds of sirens started to ring in the air.

Disappointment flooded your body, but you knew that soon, it’d be just the three of you living a completely unbothered life.

It was strange how you seemed more panicked than the other two, but at the end of the day, you couldn’t lose them. Everything they had done was for you, every life taken tonight was to secure your own happiness. It filled you up with adoration to know they’d do all that for you.

So after concocting a plan to dispose off the mask and costume behind the backs of the police, and nailing your cover story to the ground all before they had barged into Satoru’s room, only to find the three of you in the same corner they had previously trapped you in, you lay in bed with the pair later as you discussed the three of you leaving this town permanently once it was fully established you weren’t suspects.

Eventually, you had come to terms with the fact that you were just as psychotic as your best friends for falling for them so hard.

note: so happy because i have 500 followers just in time for my birthday!! thank you all so much for the love and support each of you have shown me, it means the world to me and is my only motivation to write. you guys are why i do this <333

#fanfic #smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #getou suguru x you #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x you #🌙 jujutsu kaisen

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bunbun-mochi · 4 months ago

Text

Reyna II - Queen of Onychinus

Sylus x MC

Warnings: violence, mentions of SA, non-major character deaths, kidnapping

Word Count: 2300, no proofreading

Preview: When words get out that Sylus adores his wife, his enemies start to target her to get revenge on Sylus. Little did they know that his wife was more of a menace than him...

Note: This one is way longer than I anticipated so I'm going to divide this into two parts. Stay tuned for Reyna III.

I turned off the water and got out of the shower. I dried myself and walked out of the bathroom completely naked. I put on a red silk nightgown and hop into bed.

Sylus and the twins are at a meeting today and then the auction after that. I have the whole mansion to myself! Well, kind of. Mephisto is flying between me and Sylus, so I have the whole mansion to myself for about twenty minutes.

I pulled a pillow that Sylus always used onto my chest and grabbed a book that was hiding in the drawer of the nightstand. The pillow has a lingering smell of Sylus. I snuggled into the pillow, already missing my husband.

I started to read the book. Tara recommended the book to me but she said I should not allow Sylus to know. Once I reached the fourth chapter, I immediately knew why.

It's an explicit mature adult book.

The more I read, the more I think of Sylus. If he found out I read a book like this, I wonder what he would think. Would he be offended? Thinking that he didn't please me enough that I have to turn to books for help? Or would he reenact the book?

I snapped the book shut. Is there anything that could turn Sylus off in bed? Would he be turned off by the idea that I read those kinds of books?

While I was deep in thought, I suddenly heard a noise in the house. I snapped my head toward the door, waiting for another noise. When no noise was heard, I turned my attention back to the book.

After reading a couple more chapters, I felt the sleep was getting to me. I placed Sylus' pillow off me, tossed the book aside slid off the bed, and went back into the bathroom to do my nightly routine before bed.

When I came out of the bathroom, I immediately noticed the room seemed to be different.

The book I had read and Sylus' pillow were slightly misplaced on the bed, and the drawer on the nightstands was slightly ajar. If I hadn't been married to Sylus, I would've completely missed those small details.

I walked toward my side of the nightstand and put on a pair of ruby earrings. Sylus gave me that pair when right after he proposed, saying there was a tracker in the earrings.

I picked up my phone to send a message to Sylus. Mid-text, I heard sounds coming from under the bed. Without thinking, I bolted for the door. A hand grabbed my hair and yanked it backward, causing me to fall backward, hitting the floor. On the floor, I saw a person wearing a ski mask and dressed in black.

I tried to kick them, but they used a body lock that prevented me from doing anything.

I grunted and yelled, trying to pry him off me.

"I got her!" He yelled.

The bedroom door burst opened and three more people with ski masks came in.

WHAT THE FUCK!

I was not expecting my evening to be kidnapped!

They might've drugged me as I remembered the last moment blacking out.

Sylus sat on one of the boxes in a theater. Except he wasn't watching a play but watching an auction. Luke and Kieran were standing behind him. Mephisto was on his way to the mansion to check up on his wife.

The auction was boring. The only reason why he would come here was because he heard that a rare gem would be showcased and he needed to get that for his wife.

Speaking of his wife, she should be sleeping right now. He wanted to go home and hug his wife, hold her, kiss her, worship her.

His phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and smiled. He noticed that his wife had placed a tracker on herself. The red dot moved toward him. Guess his wife wasn't able to sleep.

Then his phone rang, showing "Soulmate" as the caller ID. He answered the call, "Hello, sweetie. You're not asleep yet?"

There was no answer from the other line. Sylus sat up straighter. "Sweetie?"

A voice replied. A man's voice. "Hello, Sylus."

Sylus narrowed his eyes and waved his hand, signaling to the twins. The twins immediately went to work, disappearing from the box.

"Who is this?"

The voice laughed, "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that I have your lovely wife here."

"What do you want." Sylus lowered his voice.

"Say, Sylus." The voice chuckled. "How much is your wife worth?"

"Is she awake?" Sylus asked.

"No, but she will be. Don't worry, we won't do anything to her. Yet."

"What do you want?" Sylus asked again.

"Money." He answered.

"Easy. I'll send it over now."

The voice tuts, "I'm not done yet. I want money and your throne."

Sylus laughed, "I lost my throne for a while now. I can send you the money, but if you want the throne for the N109 zone, you're gonna have the find the real ruler."

The voice snorted, "We'll see about that." Then the line cuts off.

Sylus smirked, "Indeed, we shall see how this unfolds."

Sylus tapped on his leg impatiently. Then a message popped out, a message from Luke.

Sylus looked on the stage at the auctioneer and narrowed his eyes.

The stage changed lighting and a group of people carried a large that looked like a giant cage covered in velvet cloth onto the stage.

"Today's a very special day! We have not something, but someone." The auctioneer spoke into the microphone. There were murmurs in the crowd.

"We all have heard that Sylus got married. Guess what? We have her on stage! Anyone who wins her will claim her! Starting with 75 million!"

Sylus can hear two voices talking to each other on the box next to him.

"Is Sylus' wife really in there?"

"Ha! If she is, I'm betting all my money."

"Are you trying to buy her?"

"Hell yes. I want to see what's in her that made Sylus so swooned. Do you think she's very good in bed? Or perhaps she has a sexy body?"

"Would you share her with me?"

"Oh yes. I wonder how many rounds for us to break her?"

Sylus gripped the armrest, hard enough for it to crack. Those two will die tonight. He will make sure of it.

"100 million!" One shouted and the auction began.

"150 million!"

"200 million!"

The price just goes higher and higher. Sylus takes mental note of all those who dared to place their money. They all shall die tonight.

I woke up with a throbbing headache. I opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust. It seemed that I was placed in a metal cage with a cloth over it. I can hear a distant voice that is speaking through a microphone.

"7 million! Going once! Going twice! This painting is sold to Miss Alexia Oti!" I heard the auctioneer bang on the gravel.

Did they kidnap me to an auction? Pieces of shits!

They had rope tied together my wrists so I used my teeth to unbind them. I felt my wrist burned but I didn't care. All I can think about is Sylus. Once I got my hand unbound, I picked on the lock on the cage. It wasn't as hard as it was those old common locks. I slowly opened the door and peeked out. I was stored in a storage room underneath the stage. There were boxes all lying around. One of the opened boxes contained a very small gem. I wasn't sure what it was, but it was dark red. So dark and it looked black but when angled in a way it would show red. It intrigued me, so I took it and shoved it in my bra.

I crawled my way around, trying to find an exit, except I found a man guarding a door.

Well, guess I'm getting my hand dirty.

I knocked the man onto his knees and he grunted. Before he could fire his gun, I twisted his neck, immediately killing him.

"Fuck you," I whispered.

I opened the door slowly and peeked out. Two men were standing outside, facing away from me. One was using a phone while the other was looking over one's shoulder. Then I realized that it was my phone!

The man using my phone spat on the floor, "This couple is disgusting. Look at their texts. 'dear this, sweetie that, how many pet names do they have of each other? And those pictures? They just send nudes to each other."

"Sylus looks bigger than yours." The other man said and got a hard slap on the head.

"Shut the fuck up! Size doesn't matter!"

I quickly and quietly shut the door before they could hear my snort. I quickly moved the dead man and dragged him to the cage and locked the cage, covered the cloth over it as if nothing had happened here then I found a box big enough for me to hide in.

I hid in the box and just waited it all out.

I heard the door open, and dozens of footsteps were heard.

“Move the cage upstairs.”

“Do you think she’s awake?”

“No sound were made, think she’s still out. Hope she stays out during the entire duration of the auction.”

I heard shuffling and then footsteps slowly walking outside. I waited for a few more minutes before I slowly peeked outside. Once I confirmed there wasn’t anyone, I climbed out of the box and quietly made my way out the door.

“Pst.”

I jumped at the sound and looked around the room for the sound.

“Up here!” A voice whispered.

I looked up and saw a mask hiding on the beams. “Kieran?”

“Luke.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I sent a message to boss saying you’re alright.”

I shook my head, “No, I’m not.”

“You’re hurt?”

“You tell him this: I am severely hurt so I demand compensation. In blood.”

Luke nodded, typing. “Anything else?”

I shook my head. “Get me out of here.”

“Yes, you’re majesty.” He teased.

I scowled. “Luke.”

Luke hopped down from the beam, “Yes, Your-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

Luke immediately clamped his mouth shut.

“350 million!”

The auction was still going when I met Sylus in one of the boxes in the theater. I walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “Hello, dear.”

Sylus chuckled, “Hello, sweetie. I hope you give me some names.”

“Sadly, no names. But I do have faces.”

Sylus kissed my wrist, “That’ll work.”

I leaned my head forward onto Sylus, inhaling his scent. We stayed that way, watching how the auction unfolded.

“500 million!” I heard a voice call from the box near us.

“500 million! Going once! Going twice! Sold to Mr. Alex!” The auctioneer banged the gravel.

Sylus gently unwrapped my arms around him. He stood up and pecked my lips, “The hunt begins.” He tossed his suit coat over my shoulder and walked leisurely out the door.

I sighed. I should’ve worn something more extravagant. Something nice for them to see before they die. But this nightgown would work. I sat on the railing, leaning against the wall, waiting for the real show to begin.

Two people on the stage start to pull on the velvet cloth while everyone holds their breath. People are curious about what this so-called Sylus’ wife would look like. What she had in her to captivate the boss of Onychinus.

When the cloth was pulled off, it revealed a cage. And inside the cage was a dead man.

Gasps and mutters were heard in the theater. Some immediately got up, trying to leave, but the all doors were locked.

I heard the same two people sitting on the next box, talking to each other panicky.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“It’s Sylus!” Then he shouted louder for the entire people to hear. “IT’S SYLUS!”

Suddenly, glass shattering was heard and the entire theater dimmed. People started to panic. Screams and yells were heard. I looked down, watching those pathetic humans trying to buy me, running for their lives. Then I looked over to the two men sitting on the next box and waved.

“Who are you?” One asked.

I snickered, “Didn’t you want to see Sylus’ wife?”

Their face paled. I continued, “She’s right here.” I waved in front of me, gesturing to myself. Then I shouted, enough for everyone to hear, “Heard you brought me. Hope you’re ready for the havoc I’m about to deploy.” I laughed.

People turned their heads toward the voice. A lady wearing a nightgown and a coat draping over her shoulders, sitting on one of the box railings. Her face couldn’t be seen as the whole theater was dimmed. Red mists started to appear, turning some people into nothingness. Many screamed, and banged on the door, hoping to get out of this hell hole.

“Enjoy your play, dear guests!” A female voice called again before laughing.

Bodies dropped, some turned into nothing, and some were flung across the room. It was truly a chaotic sight. Hundreds of those elites, who believed that money solves all issues have faced a predicament where money can’t even save their very own life. After what feels like an eternity, the door finally unlocks and dozens of people pour out of the theater like livestocks.

The entire N109 zone are talking about how Sylus’ wife killed dozens of people at an auction that tried to sell her. Those who survived the theater say that she had the body of an angel but the heart of a devil, killing all those who put a price tag on her.

dividers, templates, headers, and banners are from @uzmacchiato

#lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus fic #sylus fluff #qin che

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megangovier · 23 days ago

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Car Park

Pairing: Ghostface x f! reader x Michael Myers Summary: Michael and ghost face fucks you at the back of their van. Warnings: 18+ | MM4F // Oral!m & f! // degradation // dirty talk // dazed! reader // mentions of throatpie // creampie // fingering // biting // fr33 use // breast play // hair pulling // Minors do not interact.

Michael was sat in the far back of the van, while ghostface was at the front looking for their next victim to breed with. Both of their cocks were aching to be touched but they had to wait til someone came along for the fun to begin. As day went and night arrived high heels could be heard hitting the concrete floor, Michael opened the van doors, ghost face got out and saw a possible victim. She was gorgeous, curves in the right places and hips that'll be good for bearing their children.

As they slowly walked up to you, linking their arms through yours mumbled words escaped your plump lips. Looking around them to be cautious and not wanting to be caught, they quickly put you into the back of the van, locked all doors and both went into the back closing the doors behind them. Ghost face switched the light on and Michael stared at the woman. You were wearing a tight black shorts, white t-shirt and breath that stank of booze.

Ghostface was the first one to touch you, while Michael stood there tilting his head wondering how good your pussy would feel around his cock. Slipping a hand between your legs, the other around your breast, his warm lips attacked your neck with soft licks and bites. Michael couldn't control how horny he was for you and decided to have some fun by coming up behind you and slide both hands over your hips.

"Once we're done with you bunny, your hips will be big enough to bear our children and those soft tits of yours will be filled to the brim with milk" Michael growls in your ear, making your pussy clench around ghost face's fingers. Michael tears your shirt from behind, leaving exposed breasts to be groped by ghostface. Grabbing both your tits, ghost face licks around your now hard, sensitive nipples sucking and nibbling them a moan escapes your lips.

"Does this feel good baby, me giving you pleasure by stimulating those nipples of yours, while I finger fuck you? Or does it feel good with Michael Myers humping himself into you like a dog in heat". Michael sneakily runs his hands over your shorts, tearing them apart and tossing them to the side.

"Ah that's better, don't you think princess" Michael and Ghost face both lose their clothes apart from the masks and they put you on all fours on the floor. Goosebumps form all over your arms and legs "sorry it's cold bunny, but you'll warm up real quick".

Michael ran his finger over your lips "Such pretty lips, I bet they'll look good with my seed dripping off it, but your throat would feel better if it was drenched in it. Bending down, face to face Michael tongue kissed you and bite your lip. "Now princess, open that pretty mouth of yours, while ghostie eats you from the back".

"That's right, do as he tells you pretty girl, keep still for both of us while we ruin you in two different ways". Ghost face lifts up his mask and devours you without any hesitation "Fuck baby girl, have you heard how wet you're from back here".

"Atta girl, just like that! keep swirling your tongue around the head, fuck yes!" Michael groaned. Ghost face slipped an extra finger in your wet hole "fuck, she's moaning on my cock! What ever you did ghostie please do it again". Slamming a third finger in, you sucked faster on Michael's dick "Oh god baby, your gonna make me come".

"Don't come down her throat, she's here for one reason and that's to be filled to the brim with out seed in her sweet pussy" Michael takes his cock out your throat, looking at him with dark eyes his cock throbs "Please let me go first, I need that pussy, I must breed her".

Ghost face detaches his mouth from your pussy "Go ahead Michael, but once you come, keep fucking her until you know her uterus is full to the brim with seed".

"Thank you" Michael crouches down to your level, grabs your hips and slams into you, as he's doing that ghost face has his dick in his hand facing you with a smirk on his face. Smacking his dick on your lips, you could taste the sweet taste of sweat and pre-come.

"Fuck, you're so tight! Pussy feels amazing bunny" lifting his mask up over his mouth he licks your back and softly nibbles you which makes you groan on ghost face's cock.

10 minutes later....

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come!" Michael bites onto your shoulder, you clench around him and he shoots his seed into your pussy making your body shake with ecstasy.

"My turn to breed this little cunt" Michael slowly slides out of your dripping cunt, juices running down your thighs. Hands greedily grabbing your hips, pulling your closer "I want all of you, every last squirm, squeal and juice! I want to actually taste it after I'm done!"

As ghostface slams his thick cock into you, his gloved hands moving up your hips "God baby, I can't wait to see your body change, the way your womb would be busy looking after mine and Mikey's kids, the way your breasts will fill with milk, this body I'm pounding into is ours and ours only".

Clenching around his cock, Michael is stood Infront of you with his own slapping on your tongue tasting your juices and his. "I'm so close, let me grab that hair of yours, and fuck into me".

As you did, ghostface bites onto your shoulder and you come onto his cock "good girl, give me all of it!". Ghost face shoots his seed into you.

@aurorawritestoescape @toxicanonymity @cuntyhunty22 @strang3lov3 🖤

#Ghost face #Ghost face x f! reader #Ghost face x Michael Myers #megangovier22 #ghost face x reader #michael myers #scream #Halloween #slasher fandom #slasher community #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slasher x you

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respectthepetty · 7 months ago

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I have random thoughts about colors in episode six of Peaceful Property, so I'm writing them out without any real order or reasoning.

Home is a Red Rascal. Peach is a Cyan Cutie.

But Peach tends to be more of a Blue Boy.

(And that "More Than Friends, Less Than Lovers" shirt is gay)

Home has consistently been wearing more blue in his outfits.

And in episode five, he wore purple (which is a mixture of blue and red) while Pangpang wore blue to support her brother in the Peach-focused episode.

Peach, in his darkest moment, wore a very dark blue shirt.

Home is a Red Rascal.

Peach is a Cyan Cutie with a tendency to lean more into his Blue Boyness.

And they are color-coded boys . . . in love.

During Peach's darkest moment, his color turned darker, and now during Home's darkest moment, he also has turned dark.

And when he hit Home, he was also darker.

Panppang is a Pink Person and Kan tends to be a Brown Beauty (but can be considered neutral, but even her bag this episode was brown as well as her shirt).

So why did Kan pick the red drink (with the yellow straw) and give Home the green one (with the blue straw)? Girl was playing color games, that's why! She knew Home's secret. She keeps his color. She knows he hit Peach. She gives him some of Peach's color, and offers him the advice of confessing. She is giving him in out but still holding onto him. Sidenote: The drinks were too sweet because Kan has proven multiple times that she has a sweet tooth, and her ghost better involve a candy maker.

Home wears Peach's color again when he has a nightmare and calls Peach to calm him down. But he is also wearing yellow (the car?!). Sidenote: The blue whale last week in the tub now the polar bear mask. This is a BL and the polca people know it.

Yet Peach isn't in his normal green or blue color. He is a burnt orange, possibly brown. What's important is Peach is handling something red. Home has been seeing a bloody Peach up until this moment, so this substance could be another allusion to Home's fears, but I think it's important that Peach is messing with the red rather than it being blood on him. The color of his outfit being almost the dullest beginning of red mixed with the red substance makes me think something is starting to develop, like feelings for a Red Rascal.

The next day, they are back in their colors, but brighter than they have been recently (but Peach has yellow on too!).

And Kan is in blue. She agrees to play along with this schtick for the Cyan Cutie's sake.

And Pangpang is adorable in her pink (and purple).

The final dish comes, and it's a red strawberry dessert about forgiveness. *stares directly into the camera* Are you picking up what I'm dropping off?

I was worried that Kan was in love with Home when I saw the BTS images when the show was filming. She is wearing red as she plays along. She also questions Peach about the car accident in front of Home in the kitchen. Therefore, unlike Home who keeps wearing blue (because he is in love with Peach!), I don't think Kan is in love with Home.

The red drink, the red dessert of forgiveness, the red suit. They were all warnings that Kan knew, and even when she shot the confetti at the end, the colors were blue, red, and purple (with white too). It's Peach and Home. She sank my ship.

But Home caught a pink taxi (of love) to get to Peach after Suradech was ordered by his uncle not to leave the driveway.

Because Home started that adventure brightly in his color (and his Muhammad Ali shirt) ready to confess *wink*, but his uncle got in the way, and now the "Cok Long" sign is no longer lit!

Once again, Peach's colors get dark because this is a horrible moment (and he hasn't worn his glasses for the majority of this episode).

He leaves behind the blue burner and the purple uniforms (so he is leaving behind the ghost business AND cooking).

And even though Pangpang supports her brother in blue, there is a little red hiding underneath her shirt over her heart (she is the ultimate shipper).

So I'm excited to see Home sulk next week in BLUE and yellow (the car?) because even his house is darker without Peach and Pangpang in his life.

It looks like he is wearing a shirt with red "DUDES" text on it (because only the gays wear this shirt) on the outing next week, but the shirt is blue.

And even though there is no hint of Kan in the preview, Pangpang is back in her pink while Peach is wearing the same shirt we were introduced to him in the very beginning. However, the green around the shirt's collar is darker, there are stains on it, and he is wearing glasses again.

Since we know ForceBook are showing up as the (gay?) ghosts, it's even better that they are wearing red, simply because I think this will help Home start his forgiveness tour.

Because Home and Peach are color-coded boys . . . in love.

So when will Peach wear red?

#peaceful property #on sale the series #the colors mean things #but what?#like the color coding is clear #but what do they mean?!#color coded boys IN LOVE #Home is in love #he wears blue too much #but when will Peach wear red?!#is this Wandee Goodday all over again?#will Peach never wear red?#I can't suffer like that again

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brattypagansub · 3 months ago

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Simon Riley headcannons that help flesh out his character (exclusively Simon Riley centric)

Has a fear of a lot of animals due to his abusive father

Ironically this fear doesn’t extend to horses and his adoptive family owned a horse breeding ranch

Soap found out he can barrel race to the tune of Summertime sadness and it ended up on TikTok

Wears color changing contacts and only two people have ever seen him without them in

Has a dirty mind and even filthier mouth but lets Soap believe he’s a smol anxious bean who needs protecting

Thought about growing his hair out to Legolas’ length

Loves Lord of the Rings and will fight anyone who says the movies are bad

Resolved himself to the fact that if anything ever happened to Johnny he’d take it the darkest place he’d need to. If it’ll get justice for the chaos gremlin.

Can speak elvish and often does when he doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s saying

Can draw and paint well

Has an ultra realistic drawing of Soap as Aragorn that’s protectively sealed in his sketch book

Once ended up with a head injury so bad that he forgot a solid year of his life. He proceeded to make it his personal mission to make Soap blush as much and as often as possible.

Is very very smart but acts dumb to piss off Price

Has a bad habit of sneaking up on people then not announcing his presence. Which actually got him punched square across the jaw one on accident by Soap.

Smokes but tries to limit it around Soap because he doesn’t want him picking up such a bad habit

Collects bobbles odds and ends because crow brain then gifts them to Soap

Grew his hair out to Bucky Barnes civil war length and neither Price nor Soap will let it be.. they both like to run their hands through it.

Fucks off every now and again to his comfort place Norway and several times had kidnapped Soap to go with

Sleeps like a Victorian child with a rare disease

Soap found a picture of him as a kid where he hsd long hair blue eyes and was a tiny spec of a child

Had to relearn volume control after taking off his mask more.

Is on the spectrum but he’s high functioning

Likes to tinker and work with his hands

Has sensory issues as it relates to people touching his face only two are allowed Soap and Price

Nearly tackled Roach when the man almost revealed his fear of most animals while Soap had a raven on his hand

Likes to call Price an old man exclusively to piss him off

When shit hit the fan in Los Almas his primary goal was to keep them off Soap to allow the man to escape. He didn’t want to have to tell Price that he’d lost the kid.

Only he can tell Soap to speak English

Once hid in a pyramid for a day because he needed to wait for the heat to die down after a kill

Macgyuver’d a rad counter when he was forced to chase a target through Chernobyl

Once when startled awake his brain auto piloted finishing an explanation about an equation. Then when asked was just asleep enough reply. ‘Giving a lecture on Lagrange theory and advanced calculus to a classroom of like ten hobbits.’ And that’s how Soap found out that he’s a genius.

When half asleep will pick up Soap and move him out of the way like he weighs nothing to get to the coffee machine

Has landed in bed with Price more times than he can count in their younger days thanks to a bottle of bourbon

Used to be very different personality wise almost like Soap until he nearly lost Roach on an op.

#ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #ao3 filters #ao3 tags #ao3 writer #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #fanfic #john price x simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #lore dump #cod head cannons #call of duty headcanons #call of duty #tumblr fyp

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 2 years ago

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10 Seconds to Remember

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Summary: When Payback gave him to the Russian like he was only a lab rat to be tortured and tested on, it wasn’t the worst they did. They also killed the love of his life right in front of his eyes. Now that he’s back, Soldier Boy is more than ready for revenge. Everything goes according to plan until he meets you again.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4137

Warning: lots of angst, slight graphic violence, feels, memory loss

Rating: everyone

A/n: So it’s been a while, i’ve been so busy!! With Comiccon coming and my panel to write and plan, and work being hell... Anyway, this was requested by an anon, I don’t know if they are still around cause it’s been more than a year, but here you go!

It’d been a couple of weeks since he was freed, but it still felt like he was there.

Only weeks since he was freed from his personal hell, left Russia and joined The Boys.

And they had a deal. He would kill Homelander for them if they helped him find his old team that betrayed him. They put him there in the first place, they gave him to the Russians like some sort of rat they could experience on. But that wasn’t the worst Payback did.

He could still hear them. The screams. They were haunting his nights, they haunted him when he was frozen for so many years in that box, and now that he was awake… It was even worse.

He couldn’t even remember who those screams belonged to. He remembered the pain he felt when he saw it happen. He remembered the red filling his sight when the hands destroyed the only person he ever loved. He remembered the bones breaking like fragile branches.

He remembered now. The screams were his as he was forced to watch you be tortured.

You couldn’t possibly speak when it happened, not with all the blood flowing through your mouth as Black Noir hit you in the guts. You couldn’t even make a sound when Crimson Countess broke your bones one by one. All you could do was look at him and hope he wouldn't get the same faith.

It was with the last remaining forces that you did it. As life slowly got ripped apart from you, your lips parted and formed silent words.

Close your eyes, count to ten.

That was before he was sent to Russia. His team killed you before they attacked him and placed a mask over his mouth that sent him into a deep sleep. He always thought it was to anger him that they killed you first. Because even he, Soldier Boy, was unable to think correctly under a strong wave of rage. And it worked.

Turned out, seeing the love of his life getting brutally killed in front of him was traumatizing enough to leave a mark.

Weeks had gone by and so far, Soldier Boy had managed to get revenge on the Countess and the TNT Twins. He thought it would relieve some of his pain, to kill those who took away his love and betrayed him. But the more he slaughtered and let himself go to his rage, the more anger was added inside of him. Like a boiling tornado, it kept expanding inside of his chest, burning painfully. And when it exploded…

It destroyed everything around him.

Finding Mindstorm was harder and longer than planned, so of course, Soldier Boy was getting frustrated. It was not going like he wanted. There was no time to lose there, he thought Butcher and the other nerd could help him for fuck sake. Stuck in too much anger, he decided it was enough and left the house he was supposed to stay in to wander into the city.

There were not many clothes he could wear out without attracting attention, so he had to borrow some from the bearded guy. Even then, everything ran small, so he was left with only one choice… It wasn’t too bad, but still, Soldier Boy cringed more than once at the Hawaiian shirt he had to wear as he walked through the quiet roads of the city. He was still complaining about it when he suddenly stopped dead in tracks.

Stuck in the middle of the road, he stayed motionless. Some people complained he was blocking the path, but he didn’t move. Something here… seemed familiar. A scent, a feeling, the sight of something from the corner of his eyes…

Soldier Boy blinked. Once, twice, then closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on his lids hard enough to see colors appearing. He counted to 10 and breathed slowly. And when he opened them, it was like he was back in time.

People were walking around him, all wearing more formal clothes. Old, beautiful cars were parked on either side of the road. And to his right, a shop. There was a big bay window up front so he could easily see inside. It was filled with even older things, books, mostly. And in the middle of all that history and paper, there was you.

Soldier Boy blinked again, getting back to the present. Impatient people were complaining to him. Ugly cars took all the place on the damaged road. It wasn’t the same anymore, not after all the years he lost. Time had ruined everything, ate the vegetation, destroyed life itself. But when he turned his head to look at where you used to work…

His breath caught in his throat. It had to be a dream. Soldier Boy turned his body completely towards the shop, and without him controlling his limbs, walked inside. The bell chimed when he opened the door, announcing a new customer.

And with the brightest smile, the person behind the counter welcomed him.

“Hello! Welcome. Please, take a look around. I’m here if you have any questions!”

If he wasn’t so steady and strong, Ben would have fallen to his knees. He could feel his legs shaking as he walked closer to the counter where you were.

It was like time had no reach to the shop. It was the same as what he remembered. The outside was ruined by time and human choices, but the inside…

It felt warm. Cozy. Comfortable. The smell of old paper reigned there, it was almost overwhelming, but he knew it didn’t bother you. There were so many books on the shelves, piled on the tables and stacked in boxes that it was impossible to count them all. Behind the glass at the entrance, old newspaper, comic books, furniture and typewriters. Even the cash register was old school.

And then, there was you.

“Y/n…?”

If he had doubts this was real, Soldier Boy had the confirmation when you turned your head to the sound of your name. And when he saw what you were wearing around your neck, the last doubt left his mind.

“Yes? How do you know my name?”

Pain.

Simply.

His visions got blurred, his head spinning.

Hope pressed down heavily in his guts when you said those words. Gravity pushed down on his whole body, he felt crushed under it, like every single one of his bones were breaking, unable to support him anymore.

And inside of him, his heart was shattering in a thousand pieces.

You clearly didn’t remember him… If it was really you.

He had so many questions, so many thoughts running through his head. Doubts. He wanted to scream at you to tell the truth. What was going on? What happened? How was this possible?

Was it really you?

But nothing.

His mouth opened, but only silence could be heard. It was the first time Soldier Boy felt inevitably weak. He felt desperately human. Ben felt powerless.

“Can I help you?” You worried, walking around the counter to stop right next to him. Green eyes followed your movements to finally dive into your gaze. God, he always loved your eyes. They were so pretty and filled with raw emotions, you could never hide how you were truly feeling. And right now, your brows slightly raised as you kept staring at him told him how worried and anxious you were. But it was when you gently placed your hand on his shoulder that he truly broke.

“You don’t remember me?” He asked and hated how his voice shook with every word he uttered.

Worry turned into confusion in your eyes. “Sorry… I get a lot of customers, even though recently I have quite a really good memory.” You shrugged and smiled. The way your lips curled up, trying to cheer him up, comfort him, it sent another painful memory in Ben’s guts. “I don’t think I saw you before. What’s your name?”

Ben slowly took a step back, even if all he wanted was to get impossibly closer to you. Take you in his arms and squeeze you until you remember him. It had to be you. There was no doubt in his mind. At first, he thought that maybe you were one of Y/n’s grandchildren and just happened to look exactly like the one he lost. But there were too many similarities. How you styled your hair was the same. The way you spoke. The little moles were even at the same spots. And your eyes. They couldn’t lie. You were an open book.

And there was the pendant around your neck.

“Ben,” he said simply. If he thought hearing his name would bring back some sense into you, another sharp pain pierced his chest when you only nodded and politely smiled. “It’s Ben, don’t you remember? Ben, Soldier Boy!”

It had to happen one way or another. There were simply too many emotions running through him, it was bound to spiral out of control. Pain caused sadness and in sadness, Soldier Boy always turned to anger. That was the reason he avoided anything that could remind him of you. So of course, when no matter what he did, you still couldn’t remember him, he turned to anger.

This was all a set up. And he was out of patience.

Two steps and he was right in front of you, both his hands on your shoulders. His voice raised when he spoke the next words, shaking you under his strong hold. Asking questions one after the other that would make everyone looking at the scene think he was losing his mind.

It took only one sound from you to stop him. As quickly as anger exploded inside of him, the fire died. The smallest whimper of pain reached his ears and he was back behind the wheel.

He was hurting you.

“Fuck, shit,” he muttered, taking a step back, immediately releasing you. Your head was down, your gaze avoiding his. But even if you were not looking at him, he knew, he could feel the pain and the tears running down your cheeks like the water was on his skin. “Hey, hey, Y/n, please, don’t cry, I- I’m sorry,” he tried to get closer again, he couldn’t let you cry, he couldn’t support it, but the moment he tried to approach you, you flinched.

“Please, leave…”

Your voice was barely a whisper. Shaking. Scared. You were so scared. Of him.

His heart broke even more. Never before did he hurt you. He could kill thousands of people in the war. Torture the enemy for information. But see you in pain? See you cry? Be the reason behind your tears?

“It’s okay, Y/n, please. It’s okay. Close your eyes.”

It got out on its own. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the right thing to say. The last thing you told him, not even with words, before you died.

It was always a comfort for him somehow, when he felt like it was the end… When he felt like he was losing control. He closed his eyes and counted.

“What?”

He thought you wouldn’t listen to him anymore, not after what he did. But to his surprise, you were receptive to his words.

“Close your eyes. Count to 10.”

When Ben did this, it always had the same effect. When he opened his eyes after counting to 10, he remembered. Remembered your words, your face, how to breathe, and immediately felt better. Calmer. Even back in Russia, even after the torture, if he closed his eyes and counted to 10, hell seemed a bit more bearable.

Ben didn’t think you would do it. But you did, closed your eyes and counted to 10 slowly, taking a deep breath to every number you murmured.

When you opened your eyes, it was like an entirely different person was in front of him. You had the same bright beautiful eyes, but now, they were shining with something new. Something different. Something he hoped he would see the moment he saw you in the shop.

“Oh my god…”

You recognized him.

“Ben!”

It didn’t even take a second for you to jump in his arms and hug him like tomorrow would never come. You held him tight, close to you, your feet not even touching the floor, and Ben held you as tight as possible. The embrace was strong, but he controlled his strength. He refused to hurt you again.

“Thank God,” Ben muttered, half laughing half crying. It was the one and only time he would ever allow himself to cry. No tears were shed when he lost you, or all those years he got tortured. But now that he had you again, he could let himself go to his emotions. “I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you too, I-” Even if all he wanted was to keep you close to him, you stepped back to look at him. Both hands on his cheeks, you detailed his features. “You haven’t changed, haven’t aged-”

“You neither,” Ben frowned as he caressed your face as well. “Y/n… You have to tell me, is it really you? This isn’t a dream or a trick, right?” Just thinking about it had his hands clenched and you could feel him tense.

“It’s…” You smiled, tears flowing down your cheeks as well. “Quite the long story actually, I uhm…” Looking around, noticing there was no customer inside, you quickly walked to the door to lock it and turn the sign to closed. Then, you walked back to Ben, took his hand and dragged him to the back of the store to the break room where there was a couch.

Ben sat down next to you, not letting go of your hand. “I have all the time in the world,” he said. He had to know. Now. “I thought you were dead, Y/n…”

You sighed. “I was.” Ben tensed once again so you placed your other hand on his. “They killed me. Or thought I was dead. But I wasn’t. It was Black Noir’s idea.” Like a movie was playing behind your lids, you closed your eyes and started shaking slightly. “58 minutes later, when everyone was gone, including you, he brought me to Vought to the last floor. Begged Stan Edgar to do something. Though… Black Noir wasn’t talking, something was wrong with his face. It was burnt and bleeding.” Opening your eyes, you looked at him and smiled again. “Looks like you got him good…”

“How…” Ben sniffled and tilted his head, frowning. He knew that part, he lived it. He remembered it. But with that much detail? “How do you remember so clearly…”

He watched you reach out to your necklace and held it tightly. The rest was harder to say, he could feel it. “They gave me Compound V.” You stopped for a couple of seconds to let the words go through his brain and glanced to watch his reaction. Ben was not moving, like he had doubts that was how you made it without aging. He wasn’t surprised and was waiting for you to continue. “It saved me, but I was in a coma for 10 years. When I woke up, they did a bunch of tests on me and concluded that besides not aging, I had no powers so they let me go.” At that, you chuckled sarcastically. “They were wrong.”

Ben nodded, encouraging you to continue. You removed your necklace and placed it in the palm of his hand.

“This is…” He started as you incited him to open the pendant. A picture of you in black and white on the left side was smiling at him. On the right side, a picture of him with his suit and helmet on.

“I wandered a lot, went almost everywhere. I couldn’t stay too long at one place after all, it's kind of weird to see your neighbor not aging. But in the end, I… Finished my journey back here.” You looked at the place with a sad smile. “It was familiar, and I felt safe, so I stayed. I started to read more and more and ended up noticing something… Weird. I could clearly remember everything that I read, heard or saw. I had the perfect memory. Could learn languages in one sitting. Don’t know how to cook? No problem. Give me 20 minutes. My brain has an insane facility to learn anything… That was the power Compound V gave me.”

“But if you have a good memory, why didn’t you remember me?”

Everything you said so far made sense. The way you remembered everything so clearly. Why you haven't aged. The necklace he gave you back then, necklace you still had. But there were still so many questions left…

Sadness filled up your eyes even more and you sighed. “I have a super memory, but I have a normal brain capacity… I started forgetting more and more memories of my past. I thought it was normal, but I was only in denial. The morning I woke up and forgot you was the day I knew something was wrong.” You offered him a sad smile. “I could never forget my love…” You took back the pendant and closed it. “I went to Vought and they declared it was not their problem. Side effects of a superpower are not unknown after all, and there was nothing to do. The memories I made everyday would end up burying the oldest ones I have. After that day, I decided to wear the necklace all the time and write in a journal what I did during those days. But then, I forgot I had a journal. And I forgot you.”

Ben clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. His hatred for Vought only grew then. They gave you those powers, and when you asked for help, they shrugged it off, not our problem? Anger was building up inside of him, he could feel his insides heating up painfully, rage was overtaking him. But then, a soft touch. Warmth on his skin. Calm voice speaking words.

“Open your eyes,” you asked and he obeyed immediately. Green eyes got lost in yours as he remembered that the last thing you told him was to close his eyes. Like somehow, everything had come full circle. “You’re there now. If you stay, I won’t ever forget you.” A bright smile was now on your lips, it was so warm, all he wanted to do was snuggle against you and live through your smile. “And I sure won’t forget that ugly Hawaiian shirt,” you laughed.

God, he missed your laugh.

Ben wanted to say yes. God, he was about to say yes, stay with you here forever, but you mentioned the shirt he was wearing. Butcher’s. And the whole reason for his presence came back to him.

“I have something to do before,” he said, taking your hands in his to kiss it softly.

Panic quickly rose on your face. “Wait, no, please, stay?” You seemed pressed, like time was running out.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I’ll be back before you notice I'm gone.” Ben smiled to reassure you and then got back on his feet. He could do it. Finish what he started, kill the remaining member of his team and then Homelander, and be back here before dinner. He could do it.

Soldier Boy was so sure of himself when he said his goodbye, kissing you softly on the lips, that he didn’t notice the sheer terror on your face. But it was too late, he was already gone.

Only 3 days had passed.

It was so short.

It happened so fast.

When he came back to the headquarters, they had found Mindstorm’s location. The fight was not easy, the skinny guy tried to save him, but at the end, Soldier Boy had his head. Then, it was Black Noir. The moment he entered the Seven’s tower, he knew something had happened.

Black Noir was already dead.

Too bad.

Then, there was Homelander. That turned out to be harder than planned, but with Butcher’s new power and Maeve’s help, they did it. They exploded a whole floor in the process, but they got him.

Homelander was no more.

A lot happened in those three days, but for him, it happened so fast it was like he left for 3 hours.

Once everything was settled, Soldier Boy ran back to your store. He didn’t even bother changing, he bursted through the door in full uniform, ignoring everyone staring at him and asking him for pictures and autographs.

Scanning through the shop, he searched for you. You were not behind the counter, so he checked in every corner of the book store. Then, he headed to the back, the place where you told him everything that had happened to you.

“Y/n!”

As he opened the door, he knew you would be there. Turning your head towards him, you smiled.

“Y/n, I’m back, like I promised. I’m there. I did it.”

Your smile grew bigger on your lips, your eyes shining with so much light, it felt warm inside of him again.

He felt alive.

“Oh my god, is it really true?”

Soldier Boy nodded, a smile as bright as yours on his lips. “Yeah! Like I said.”

“Is it really you, you’re Soldier Boy!”

Wait.

Wait no.

No.

His smile stayed on. But inside, he was screaming.

“No, I mean yes,” he stepped closer to you, watching your face filled with joy. But even if everything told him the real reason why you were so in awe and happy to see him, he refused to believe it. “Y/n… I…Close your eyes.”

Giggling, you put your book on the couch, stood up and did as he said.

“Count to ten.”

Please.

It had to work.

Counting out loud, your smile stayed on.

“Now, open your eyes.”

It worked last time. It worked. You remembered him after all these years. Even if your memory was very bad right now, that your power was eating your past, it'd only been 3 days.

Your beautiful eyes met his sad gaze again.

He knew without you saying a word.

There was no glint. No shine. Nothing except the excitement of meeting a hero… for the first time. And around your neck, the pendant was missing.

You even forgot to put it on.

“So, do I win something?”

The earth itself couldn’t support his weight and he had to sit down. Ben sat down on the couch, placing his face against his hands. Trying to hide. Trying to go back in time. Now, he could see it. Could remember it. The panic you had when he told you he was leaving. You were scared, scared to forget him.

Ben looked down. Defeated. His hands gripped his hair hard and he cursed himself. Why did he leave? Why?! Now it was too late!

As he stared at the floor, something caught his eyes. Reaching down, he cupped the object in his palm and stared.

The pendant.

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice was the same.

You were the same.

The one he lost.

The one that forgot him.

And now, it was too late.

“I saw you on TV, you’re the new leader of the Seven, right? It must be so hard working for Vought.”

Even if you didn’t remember him, you were still so kind. Considerate. You had a hero in front of you and were more concerned about his well being than a fucking picture or an autograph.

“Yeah. Working for Vought is not easy,” he replied, staring absentmindedly at the necklace.

You sat down next to him. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Having a job you don’t like really sucks. I hope that, as the new leader, you’ll be able to find yourself a reason to keep going. And maybe help a lot of people, who knows?”

To that, Soldier Boy could only nod.

“I am the new leader, yeah. And changes need to be done.”

Just like that, the hero got up and left. Something slipped from his gloved hand and fell on the floor. As you picked it up, you tried to catch up to him, but he was already gone. “Damn it,” you muttered and looked at the pendant. Curious, you opened it and looked at the two pictures inside of it. You slowly caressed the picture to the left. “It was probably very important to him… Someone he really loved.”

You kept the pendant and placed it around your neck. Maybe one day, the hero would come back and you could give it back to him.

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