#hope i’m not mixing up my cons…

[imaginedisish]

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[actuallysaiyan]

I'll Do Anything(JJK virginity loss headcanons)

warnings: virginity loss, unprotected sex, use of condoms(Nanami), mentions of cunnilingus/fem!oral sex, dub con(Sukuna), forced sex(Sukuna), dark themes(Sukuna) word count: 1.7k pairings: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader, Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader, Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader a/n: I'm so close to finishing up season one of JJK, so I just had to write more content! I hope you all enjoy!! Smut under the cut!

“Pretty baby,” he coos softly as he slots himself between your thighs. “You sure you’re ready? I’m really big.”

You can barely make out what he’s saying. He’s been between your thighs for what seemed like hours. You knew it was to make you more comfortable with losing your virginity to him, but part of you wonders if he takes pleasure in lapping at your cunt.

“Sweetie, I need your consent.” Gojo reminds you, and you lick your lips. You look up at him, and those gorgeous eyes of his just pull you into a trance.

“Ready for you, Gojo. ‘Promise ‘m ready for you,”

He smiles, “That’s my good girl.”

Slowly, he lets his cockhead prod your tight hole. You’re just dripping all over his swollen, red cockhead. It excites him to no end that you’re going to let him be your first. In his mind, there’s no bigger stroke to his ego to have you cumming on his cock and knowing pleasure simply from him taking your virginity.

As he pushes more of himself into you, you swear you can feel your muscles beginning to give out. It’s all too much for you. Your eyes screw shut as the thick cock slides into you inch by inch. You’re panting as it reaches further into you. You didn’t know it would be this good. 

“Oh, baby,” Gojo says, his tone teasing. “You really are taking my cock so well.”

The words, you swear you hear them, but your brain is already so mush from all this lust that you aren’t sure he’s speaking the same language as you. It doesn’t take much for him to push the rest of his cock into you, and the moment it brushes against your cervix, you shudder.

“Gojo, I—” you whine. Your walls are contracting around him, making him grunt. 

Your whole body shudders and shakes as you feel all this pleasure come over you. You’ve never experienced an orgasm quite like this. It’s so much better than touching yourself or trying to make yourself cum with a vibrator. White hot pleasure is just coursing through you, making you whine and whimper.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you look up at him. He blinks; those beautiful orbs so full of wonder but you can see mischief in this look as well.

“Huh,” Gojo ponders aloud. “You just came, didn’t you?”

Your cheeks burn, “Gojo…”

He leans in to kiss you, “No need to be embarrassed. There’s more to come, sweetheart.”

He thinks you look so beautiful like this, all sprawled out on the bed. But there’s this part of him that just wants to tease you for being so fucked out already. He hasn’t even entered you, and you’re moaning just like a bitch in heat. It’s honestly one of the most flattering things to him, and yet he’s trying not to let it get to his head too much.

“Such a naughty baby,” He murmurs as he presses sloppy kisses up your body.

His lips capture yours as he slots himself between your thighs. You don’t even have much time to react before he’s pushing his thick cock into you. Tears sting your eyes at the sensation of being stretched out like this. You push on his stomach, pleading for him to take it a little slower than he is.

“Come on,” he goads. “You can take it,”

You’re panting now, and the pleasure mixes in with the pain of being stretched out like this. You want to look down to make sure he’s not actually splitting you in half with his cock. But his forefinger and thumb capture your chin to make you look into his eyes. If he could have this moment ingrained in his memory forever, he would choose to do so. You look so precious to be losing your virginity just like this. It’s exactly how Geto wanted it.

“You can take it all, baby. I know you can.”

You whimper as he pushes even deeper into you. Your eyes cross as the pleasure keeps building inside of you. Your walls are clamping down against his cock, making him grunt at the sensation of your virgin pussy trying to milk him for all he’s got. He knows he wants this to last, but he wasn’t counting on it feeling this good. 

“Look at you,” Geto chuckles darkly. “You’re a natural slut,”

You whine, “Please,”

He laughs again, loving the effect this has on you. Who would've thought all he needed to tame your brattiness was just some cock? You were clearly so pent up, and now all he had to do was fuck you until you’re brattiness just disappeared. 

“Please what?” He asks, his tone mocking.

“More, please.”

And with those words, Geto positions himself on his knees for a little more stability. With his hands on your hips, he begins pounding you into the mattress.

He can’t help but feel enamored by the sweet sight of you on his bed like this. He can’t remember the last time he felt this aroused. When you asked him to be your first, he was touched. Nanami knew he had to make this a moment that you’ll never forget.

And he prepared for the night too. He took you out on a romantic date, bought some condoms and lube, and he made his bed extra comfortable for the two of you. By the time he has you back to his apartment, you’re already feeling pretty affectionate for the man. He was just so special to you, and you knew he’d treat you right.

You look up at him, smiling that sweet smile of yours. Everything that you do in this moment, it goes straight to his cock. Nanami reaches down to adjust himself in his underwear, then he turns his attention back to you.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He asks, reaching over to the bedside table for the box of condoms. You smile sweetly again. “Yeah, I’m ready,” 

He leans in to kiss you, and your tongues rub together sensually. You’ve never been more sure of something in your life than this. You’ve been in love with Nanami for so long, so when you were ready to lose your virginity, you knew it would have to be him you’d want to lose it to.

He undresses himself completely, and he spreads your thighs. As much as he wants to go in raw, he knows it’s not responsible. So he takes one of the foil packets from the box and tears it open. His eyes inspect the condom, and once he deems it acceptable, he begins rolling it onto his leaking cock.

You can’t tear your eyes away from this scene. He looks so good doing something as simple as putting a condom on his cock. It’s just the idea that the lewd act is coming. He grabs the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table and he smears a little of it onto the already lubed up condom. The rest of the lube goes onto your vulva, and he spreads it all over your tight hole and your swollen clit.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Nanami says before pressing the tip of his cock to your hole.

A gasp falls from your lips as he begins pushing into you. It feels so good to be full like this. His eyes are scanning your features for any signs of pain, but you look so full of love right now. It really warms his heart.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whine, which earns you a sweet chuckle from Nanami. “I wasn’t planning on it,”

As soon as his cock is inside of you fully, Nanami knows that he can start thrusting slowly. He sees the love in your eyes, and he knows he made the right choice in being your first.

Sukuna absolutely loves being able to fuck virgins. But there is something extremely special about you. He’s not even sure what it is, but you’re just so adorable and sweet. He usually thinks himself better than to fall into this kind of affection, but the way you keep clinging to him makes him a little dizzy with lust.

“Oh, you are just asking for it,” Sukuna comments, and his fingers go down to your pussy once more.

You’ve been sitting on his lap for what feels like forever now, and he’s been so eager to just let you have all this pleasure. Whether it be with mouths or with his fingers, he’s happily had you cumming for hours now. You’ve made such a stain on his pants, and the smell of you is just permeating the air. You’re barely coherent now, but you want to hang on. You want more than just cumming on his fingers or on his tongues.

“You want my cock now, don’t you?” He asks, though he knows you don’t have much choice in the matter. You’ll be taking his cock whether you like it or not.

But you nod so obediently, “Yes yes yes, please!”

A delirious laughter rumbles through him. You remind him of the reason he loves virgins so much. They become so caught up in all the pleasure that they forget that they have to give away a part of themselves to him.

“That’s a good girl,” his voice is thick with a mocking tone. “I knew you’d want it.”

With one of his hands, he holds you up. The other hand begins undoing his pants quickly. He wants to be buried deep inside of you as soon as he can. His cock slaps against his abdomen as soon as he’s got it freed from the confines of his pants. You barely have time to react as he sinks you down onto the immense girth.

You scream his name as the sensations of his cock splitting you in two hit you. It’s all so intense at once. Sukuna smirks as he watches you squirm and wiggle, almost trying to get off of his cock. But he keeps his hands on your hips, practically locking you onto him. Before you know it, he’s bouncing you up and down on his thick girth.

“Ganbare, ganbare,” Sukuna teases. His thumb wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, heheheheheh…”

He throws his head back as the pleasure of your virgin cunt overwhelms him. He’ll gladly keep you right on his cock for eternity if he chooses to do so.

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

love, lies, and first times

Summary: You were made to believe that your girlfriend, Hazel Callahan, lost her virginity to Stella-Rebecca some years ago. But when the truth is revealed during a game of truth or dare, your trust in her is shattered. What reason did she have to lie, and who did she actually lose her virginity to?

Pairing: loser!virgin!hazel x experienced!reader

Contains: mature language and content, lies, smut, fingering, oral, first time, kissing, drinking, tit play, both receiving, both giving, loser!hazel, sub!hazel, biblically!accurate!hazel, reader isn’t described as fem or masc

Word Count: 6k

A/N: soo one of my pet peeves when reading a hazel fic is when hazel keeps her rings on when fingering the reader and the reader likes it? Listen, I lost my virginity to someone who accidentally kept their rings on and it was painful. I had to ask them to take them off, highly unpleasant. I kinda make fun of that here, I hope some of y’all are ready to get called tf out ;)

“Hazel, truth or dare?”

You squeezed your girlfriend’s hand as PJ sent her a wicked grin. The senior class of the Rockbridge Fight Club had just graduated high school, and the club leaders, PJ and Josie, had decided to celebrate by throwing a party—one last ‘hurrah’ for the founding members. Now, you all sat in a circle in Josie’s dim basement, sipping poorly mixed jungle juice from red solo cups while David Fincher movies played on a vintage television in the background. Truth or dare was, of course, PJ’s idea—perhaps in the hopes that someone would dare her to kiss Brittany.

Hazel returned your squeeze, the cool metal of her rings pressing against your warm skin. “Truth,” she answered.

PJ’s lips curled into such a shit-eating grin, you began to wonder if maybe she really did eat ‘literal shit.’ “Who did you lose your virginity to?”

You smiled, already knowing the answer. Early into dating, you and Hazel had exchanged ‘first-time’ stories: yours had been with some girl at summer camp when you were sixteen, and Hazel had confessed to experimenting with Stella-Rebecca freshman year. She stressed that it was nothing romantic, simply two friends getting their first times out of the way, and then swore you to secrecy for the sake of Stella-Rebecca’s privacy. However, Stella-Rebecca was sitting right there, and you doubted she would appreciate Hazel exposing their previous affair to the entire group.

Sure enough, Hazel’s eyes widened as a blush crept upon her cheeks. “Uhhh…”

Her hand seemed to stiffen within yours, tightening its hold as her rings indented your skin. You glanced across the circle at Stella-Rebecca, who stared at Hazel with an expectant (and somewhat oblivious) smile.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you murmured to Hazel in an attempt to calm her, but her grip only further constricted.

PJ rolled her eyes. “Come on, Hazel, I gave you an easy one. Everyone knows you probably lost it to her,” she gestured towards you.

It was your turn to blush. “Actually, uh…” you looked towards your girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her ability to speak. “We haven’t really, uh…”

PJ gasped as her eyes almost popped out of her head. “No way! You two haven’t jacked each other off yet?”

It was true, you and Hazel had yet to take your relationship to that level. Not like you didn’t try, you had been dating for months, but Hazel seemed to shy away every time you so much as slipped a hand up her shirt. You knew you shouldn’t pressure her, but you were beginning to feel a bit unattractive—after all, Hazel had lost her virginity to a model. How could you possibly compare to that?

Josie, ever the peacemaker, decided to chime in. “Ok PJ, let’s back off a little bit…”

Hazel seemed to relax a bit at Josie’s words. She eased her grip, and you heard her exhale a breath you didn’t know she was holding.

“I have to admit, I’m a little curious myself.” Stella-Rebecca interjected, taking you by surprise. “Hazel never talks about her sex life.”

Your face contorted in confusion. Hazel tensed up again, but your attention was focused on the girl sitting across from you. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes we’ll be hanging out and the topic of sex will come up, and I’ll share some hookup story and she’ll just kind of… change the subject or something.”

There it was again, that familiar burn of envy like acid in your veins. “Maybe she’s jealous,” you suggested, words unintentionally dripping with venom.

Stella-Rebecca furrowed her brow, her expression innocent. “I doubt Hazel would be jealous of my sex life… unfortunately, it has more men than I think either of us would prefer.”

”Well, you were her first.”

“What?!” Stella-Rebecca exclaimed, her jaw dropping in shock. PJ cackled maniacally, clearly having the time of her life.

Hazel’s hand was clamped so tightly around yours that her knuckles were white, but you barely noticed as you stayed fixated on Stella-Rebecca. “I mean… yeah… weren’t you?”

Stella-Rebecca furiously shook her head. “Hazel and I have known each other our whole lives, but never like that. Besides, I didn’t come out as a lesbian until after you two started dating. Why did you think it was me?”

You felt like a complete moron. “I don’t know…” you muttered, glaring at your girlfriend. She refused to meet your gaze, staring down at her lap while shades of crimson painted her features. Her hand was still clasped around yours, but you forcibly removed it, too hurt to want to be touched.

“Ok, so, Hazel’s a prude. Glad we got that out of the way.” PJ sneered.

Josie reached over and smacked her arm. “So are you, PJ. Hypocrite.”

“I am not a prude, I’m a virgin.” PJ corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The game continued once the tension died down. No one dared PJ to kiss Brittany, so when it was her turn again, she took it upon herself to dare Brittany to kiss her, which the poor girl blatantly refused. After that, PJ pretty much lost interest and the game dissipated, with everyone breaking the circle to go off and do their own things. Josie and Isabel were tucked away in a corner, failing to be discreet during a heated makeout session. PJ had joined Brittany on the couch, while Brittany sipped her drink and scrolled through her phone, trying to ignore Pj’s passes. The rest of the girls, including Hazel, huddled in front of the small television, chatting through the David Fincher movies. You, however, stayed back in an attempt to avoid your girlfriend.

“How could she lie to me like that?” You asked Brittany, plopping down on the couch between her and PJ. Rolling her eyes, PJ got up and left the basement, retreating upstairs for whatever reason.

Brittany seemed grateful for your company (and relieved at PJ’s disappearance). “I don’t know, babe,” she said, slinging her arm around you and pulling you close. “I’m sure she had a good reason.”

You groaned pathetically, resting your head on her shoulder. “I can’t think of any.”

Brittany leaned down and kissed the top of your head, sympathetic to your feelings. You glanced over to the television area and saw Hazel staring back at you, watching your interaction with Brittany. She looked sad, not jealous, just sad. Those big blue eyes that would look at you with so much love were now pained, filled with remorse. She sort of resembled a kicked puppy, and every instinct in your body told you to run over and hold her, comfort her, before you remembered why you were angry in the first place.

Before you could force yourself to break your shared gaze, PJ suddenly came bumbling down the stairs again, holding an empty beer bottle. “Look what I found in the kitchen trash!” She exclaimed, commanding the room’s attention.

Josie shook her head in disbelief. “Why were you in my trash?”

“Doesn’t matter! Now we can play ‘seven minutes in heaven!’” PJ declared, moving to the middle of the room and gesturing for everyone to get the circle back together.

Brittany groaned, all too aware that this was just another one of PJ’s stunts to try and get with her. It was your turn to be sympathetic.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered to her. “If the bottle starts to land on you during PJ’s turn, I’ll intercept it.”

Brittany mouthed a ‘thank you’ before taking your hand and walking with you to join the circle. This time, you sat directly across from Hazel, as far away from her as possible. You could feel her sad puppy-dog eyes boring into you, but you refused to meet her gaze.

“Alright,” PJ asserted, rubbing her hands together. “If there’s no volunteers to go first…”

“I think our host should spin first.” Isabel interrupted, looking towards Josie with what could only be described as ‘fuck-me’ eyes.

Josie giggled as she took the bottle from a reluctant PJ and spun it in the center. Everyone watched with anticipation as the bottle slowed, almost stopping in front of Annie before Isabel grabbed it and pointed it towards herself.

“Wow, what a coincidence!” Isabel exclaimed, much to Josie’s amusement.

The two held hands and disappeared into the small coat closet under the basement stairs. PJ rolled her eyes. “It’s no fun if you pick your partners!” She yelled after them.

One thing about 'seven minutes in heaven’ that no one talks about is what the rest of the group does during the seven minutes. Do you talk? Keep playing? Listen in? You certainly didn’t know, and apparently neither did anyone else—with the exception of PJ, who set her phone timer before sitting with her ear pressed to the door.

“So… what’s everyone’s summer plans?” Stella-Rebecca asked in an attempt to fill the silence.

Annie shrugged in response. “Mostly working as a counselor for Vacation Bible School and protesting outside Planned Parenthood. Same old, same old.”

“Would you guys shut up over there?” PJ hissed from across the room. “I’m trying to listen to them fuck!”

Eventually, seven agonizing minutes finished with the screech of PJ’s timer. “Times up, lovebirds!” She shouted, throwing open the door.

The ‘lovebirds’ stumbled out of the closet in a fit of giggles. Both of their clothes were wrinkled, hair disheveled, and Isabel’s lipstick was smeared all over Josie’s mouth. The couple was immediately met with cheers and jeers from the rest of the party as they made their way back to the circle.

“Wow, thanks for warming up the closet for us you two,” PJ snickered. “Now, as for who’s next…”

“Hazel, why don’t you spin?” Isabel suggested, seizing the bottle before PJ could and passing it to Hazel.

“Oh, come on!” PJ complained, having been cockblocked yet again.

The group all shared a chuckle at PJ’s dismay, especially Brittany who was laughing so hard tears began to form. PJ could do nothing but pout until the laughter died down and Hazel reached into the center, spinning the bottle.

Round and round the bottle spun, the group watching with bated breath. The hollow glass rotated, nozzle slowing, slowing until it finally stopped on no other than… you. All previously dissipated tension immediately resurfaced as the room seemed to still, everyone recalling the incident from earlier.

“Yeah, you guys! Go in there and give us absolutely nothing!” PJ sneered, earning another smack on the arm from Josie.

You stared at the bottle, nozzle pointing directly at you, no question about it. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Hazel nervously fidgeting with her rings, unsure of how to proceed.

“Maybe we could… play something else?” Brittany suggested gently.

PJ clapped her hands together. “Nope! Rules are rules. Get in there, you two.” She seized your hands and dragged you to the closet, throwing both of you in before slamming the door.

Hazel kept her gaze fixated on her fidgeting hands while you pretended to be very interested in a small tear on one of the hanging coats. After what felt like an eternity, you checked your watch. Only twelve seconds had passed. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, one of us has to say something.”

She glanced towards the door. “How much do you wanna bet PJ is listening in on us?”

You shot her a glare, not finding her joke funny.

“I’m sorry…” Hazel muttered, lowering her head again.

At that moment, all of the hurt, anger, and confusion you had kept bottled up to save face rose to the surface. “Why would you lie to me?” You demanded, using her own line against her.

Her face crumpled upon hearing the true betrayal behind your question. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Hazel, you lied about losing your virginity to Stella-Rebecca. That’s such an odd thing to lie about, it doesn’t make any sense…”

“Ok,” Hazel cut you off. “I didn’t have sex with Stella-Rebecca...”

“No shit,” you spat. “So what, you like, want to?”

“No!” Hazel insisted. “Stella and I are friends. I’ve never thought about her that way.”

“Then why have you had me believing you slept with her?” You hissed, a weak attempt to keep your voice down.

She was at it again, fiddling with those goddamned rings. “I don’t know, I just…” she swallowed, hesitating. “You told me about your first time… at summer camp… and you asked me about mine. We had just started dating. I didn’t want you to think I was inexperienced.”

“Hazel,” you sighed. “You are inexperienced.”

“I mean, like, I didn’t want you to see me as an immature little baby who didn’t know what she was doing, so I panicked and made something up. I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

The edges of your anger blurred as you realized fear had driven your girlfriend to a desperate lie. Poor Hazel, she looked shrunken, almost. She had drawn into herself, vulnerability exposed like a house of cards in the wind. You reached out and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at you and taking her by surprise.

“Hazel,” you cooed. “It’s ok that you’ve never had sex before, I don’t care.”

“Really?” She asked.

You nodded. “Of course I don’t care. I just thought you’d been pushing me away because you didn’t find me that attractive, but…”

“What?!” Hazel’s exclamation took you aback, making you drop your hand. “That’s not it at all! Shit, I was just worried I’d mess up somehow, I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my entire life! I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No, really! Every time I look at you, I’m like ‘holy fuck, how did I get so lucky…’”

You cut her off by crashing your lips against hers. Her body initially tensed at the sudden contact, but soon melted into yours as it had done so many times before. Your hands found the nape of her neck as you drew her closer, pressing her up against you as much as possible. Lip-locks with Hazel were familiar to you, but never had one been so passionate, so rough and yet reassuring at the same time.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were gasping to catch your breath, realizing you had inadvertently chosen each other over oxygen. You gazed upon Hazel, studying her flushed cheeks, her lustrous lips, and the way her shirt collar sat askew atop her shoulders. With the way she stared back, you could tell you appeared just as rumpled.

“Well that’s good to know,” you giggled, reaching out to fix her collar. “Listen, Hazel, you’re a virgin. So what? I don’t care who you have or haven’t been with before. If you’re not ready yet, that’s perfectly fine, really. I would never pressure you into anything.”

Back at it again with those fucking rings. What the hell could you have possibly said this time?

“That’s the thing…” she began, her gaze fixated to the floor again. “I think I… I think…”

“Hazel…” you whispered her name, placing two fingers on her arm and making her shiver.

“I… I think I am ready. I’ve been ready. For a little while now.”

Your eyes widened at her confession. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I want you… uh, I mean… I want to do it… with you. I just… I don’t… I don’t know how to…” each sputter was paired with imperceptible hand gestures, desperate to communicate something she didn’t have the words to say.

“To… initiate it?” You asked.

“Yes! That!” She sighed, thankful you knew her well enough to understand her babbles. “I mean, should it be planned? Spontaneous? Do I just walk up to you and say ‘hey I wanna have sex?’ Where do I do it? How? Can I just blurt it out of nowhere or does something have to be happening first? If so, then what?”

“Hazel…” she was rambling again. You placed your hands on both sides of her head, smoothing her hair. “There’s no right way to initiate it, trust me. You can just do whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

She met your gaze again, head still caught between your palms. There was something different behind her eyes, though, something besides remorse or even vulnerability. Her brilliant blue’s seemed darker somehow, almost… hungry. You finally caught on when she snuck a glance at your lips, and closed the distance between you.

This kiss was different from the last: still passionate, but gentler, lighter, as if you were exploring for the first time. Her hands found your waist, loosely gripping the fabric of your top. You reciprocated, running your thumb over the hem of her tank top and accidentally brushing over a patch of bare skin. She flinched at the unfamiliarity, and you pulled away.

“Are you ok?” You whispered, forehead pressed against hers. She nodded, half-lidded eyes not leaving your lips. “Can I…?” Your fingers hesitated just under her tank top, barely grazing the skin of her stomach. She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. For the first time in her life, she let her body do the talking as she pressed into you, capturing you in another kiss.

Slowly, surely, your fingers inched up the underside of her tank top. You took the time to trace little shapes into her skin, moving from her waist, to her stomach, to the underside of her rib cage. Her breath hitched with each new touch; Hazel had always been ticklish, but the way your fingertips danced along her torso made her shiver rather than squirm. As her comfortability levels grew, your hand traveled up, further, further…

“Holy shit, they were really gonna fuck!”

PJ’s grating voice startled you apart like an unwelcome infomercial in the dead of night. You glared at your intruder standing in the wide-open doorway, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. “Lose track of time?”

Hazel tugged at your wrists, and it wasn’t until that moment when you realized your hands were still under her tank top (much to PJ’s entertainment). With a mumbled apology, you detached yourself and helped her smooth out the fabric bunched around her ribs. Both of your faces were burning with a mixture of embarrassment and fluster.

“You could’ve knocked, you know…” Hazel muttered, watching the floor as she left the closet.

“I could’ve,” PJ admitted. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The rest of the party watched with amusement as you and Hazel exited the closet. Your flushed features and darting glances did not go unnoticed, prompting a series of snorts and stifled laughter. Forget David Fincher, you two were your own movie.

“So, I assume it’s safe to say you’ve made up?” Josie asked cheekily, squeezing Isabel’s hand, who bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing.

“We sure did,” you said with a sheepish grin.

Brittany couldn’t help but snicker. “Guess that explains your rosy cheeks.”

You exchanged looks with Hazel as an idea suddenly popped into your head. “Actually, Hazel’s cheeks are warm because she doesn’t feel too good.”

“I don’t?” Hazel asked.

“You don’t,” you repeated, shooting her a look. “In fact, oh my, I do feel warm! We must be coming down with something.”

“Wait, but I don’t feel…” Hazel seemed confused until she met your gaze and understood your plan. She raised her hand to her forehead, making a big show of collapsing into the basement wall. “Oh, woe is me! It is true! I seem to have fallen ill! Cough, cough, wheeze!”

You had to fight the corners of your mouth to keep from curling. Jesus, this girl couldn’t act for shit.

“Yes… anyway we need to leave. Right now. We don’t want to get any of you sick.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Josie sent you a knowing smirk.

You grabbed Hazel’s hand and ran with her up the stairs and out of the basement, the partygoers calling after you with whoops, hollers, and exaggerated kissing sounds. As the basement door creaked shut behind you, the last thing you heard was PJ’s whiny complaint. “No fair! Hazel gets pussy before I do?”

The two of you rushed hand-in-hand from Josie’s front door and piled into Hazel’s car, you in the passenger seat as usual.

She turned to you, keeping her free hand on the wheel. “Are your parents home?”

“They never are.”

Hazel had to release your hand to put her car in reverse, pulling out of the driveway like a madwoman. You anticipated her fingers intertwining with yours again, but instead, she reached over and rested her hand on your upper thigh. Her thumb gently brushed across the denim of your jeans, sending flutters through your stomach. Hazel was getting bold.

The drive back to your house was nothing but perilous. Hazel had always been a reckless driver, but the sharp turns and disregarded stop signs were wild even for her. Arriving at your house, she parked haphazardly, jumping out before rushing to throw open your door.

“Well that was fast,” you teased as Hazel helped you out of the car. “Looking forward to something?”

Words seemed to fail her as she silently took your face in her hands, kissing you with the desperation of a castaway grasping for a lifeline. She had you pressed into the passenger door, hips flush against yours. Your palms rested on her collarbone, feeling her rapid heartbeat.

You gently pushed her away, almost swearing you heard the faintest whimper leave her lips. “Why don’t we take this inside?” You suggested, to which Hazel could only nod.

The two of you stumbled into your house, barely taking the time to break away from each other to see where you were going. When you eventually made it to your bedroom, you slammed the door behind you and Hazel thrust you against the white wood. You relaxed into her, expecting more kisses, but looked up to find her features filled with apprehension.

“Hazel…” you whispered, moving your hands to her shoulders. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah…” she stuttered, her gaze dropping slightly. She had seized you by the hips, fingers hooked in your belt loops, hands beginning to tremble.

You gently lifted her jaw. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s ok if you changed your mind…”

“No! No, please. I need you so bad you have no idea…” she cut you off, her confession making you blush. “I just… I don’t… I mean… I’ve watched some porn and read fanfiction but…”

“Hazel, sex isn’t anything like porn or fanfiction.”

“Oh fuck, it isn’t?” She asked in disbelief, her wide eyes making you chuckle.

“Why don’t you let me lead, then?” You suggested, calming her with a tender kiss on her jawline. “Go lay down for me, yeah?”

Hazel did as she was told and moved to lie down on your pale-blue bedspread, a favorite of yours because you thought it matched her eyes. You stayed behind, stripping down to a bra and panties as Hazel watched with unblinking eyes.

“Relax, my love,” you purred, climbing onto the bed and hovering over her. You shifted, hips brushing against hers momentarily, causing Hazel’s eyelids to flutter and a sigh to leave her lips. A smirk crossed your face. “Sensitive, are we?”

Hazel could barely speak through her pathetic little whines. “P-please…”

You planted a sweet kiss on her lips before trailing down to her neck, exploring her soft skin, discovering unknown sensitive spots: her earlobe, the nape of her jaw, along her collarbone. Your fingers flitted underneath the hem of her tank top, creeping up, up, until you felt the cool nylon of her sports bra against your palm. Hazel shuddered at the newfound sensation, and you pulled back.

“Still good?”

“Good,” she breathed. “Yes, good.”

You hooked your finger under the neck of her tank top, coaxing her to sit up slightly. Pinching her shirt collar, you slid it off her shoulders before lifting the bottom of her tank, stopping with it bunched under her armpits. She finished the job for you, and you tossed the shirts aside, not caring where they landed.

Now she was left in a sports bra the color of fog, her nipples erect and poking through the fabric. You slipped two fingers under her band, looking to her for approval. She nodded, letting you peel it off until her tits sprang free.

“Holy shit, Haze,” you muttered, practically drooling at the sight of her naked breasts. Underneath the compressive sports bras, hidden beneath layers of baggy clothing, Hazel had perfect tits: round, firm, with little pink buds sitting like cherries on top of two scoops of vanilla ice cream. “How could you keep these from me?”

Hazel let out a laugh that sounded more like a breath, not entirely sure how to respond. Leaning down, you took one of the swollen buds in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while palming her other breast. Hazel threw her head back against the pillow, letting out cries of pleasure while her hands entangled themselves in your hair. You took your time, caressing, suckling, exploring every inch of her bare chest, memorizing each unique detail: a freckle on her décolletage, a vaguely mushroom-shaped birthmark hidden beneath her left breast.

She was, for lack of a better word, perfect. You had been so distracted, so deeply buried in her cleavage, that you hadn’t noticed time slipping away until you felt her pressing down on your head. Your name flew from her mouth in a desperate gasp. “I can’t… p-please… keep going…”

“So impatient,” you teased, mouth releasing her nipple with a pop. Hazel only whined in response, bucking against your stomach, hips urgently searching for some kind of release. You smirked, leaving her breasts and peppering kisses down her stomach, stopping when you reached the waistband of her gym shorts.

“Off?” You asked, though it was merely a formality at this point; you already knew the answer. She made a noise of approval, a mix between a groan and a squeak, and shifted her hips to allow you to slip them off her legs.

Now, there stood nothing between you two but the thin cotton of her slate-colored boxers. She was writhing, silently begging you to rip them off and have at her, but you couldn’t help but stop and admire the growing spot of wetness that had accumulated through the fabric. Her hips sputtered, shook, pairing with her pitiful whimpers to plead for attention. You, however, had other plans.

“What’s your rush, Haze? We’ve got all night, don’t we?” You were teasing her now, a wicked grin appearing as your fingertips danced along the elastic band of her boxers.

Her raised pelvis came crashing down onto the bedspread as she cried out in defeat. “Fuck… please… just take them off…”

You frowned, mocking her, using your thumb to gently encircle her clothed cunt. Her head sank further into the pillow, broken moans falling out of her mouth like beads from a shattered necklace.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hazel. Do you always get this wet?” You asked in disbelief. Her boxers felt like a saturated sponge.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, fighting to keep her speech intelligible. “I don’t think so, maybe. I… I need you… really bad…”

“Need me?” You replied cheekily, wrapping your fingers around the elastic and slipping her boxers off in one quick motion.

Your girlfriend's naked body was now fully on display before you. You had to take a moment, admiring details of the areas she had never let you see before: a small mole on her outer thigh, or the way her hip bones protruded to form little ridges across her pelvis. Her chest heaved, lips parted ever so slightly as she awaited your next move.

“Hazel?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you ready?”

She took in a breath, blowing it out big. “More than anything.”

You positioned your head between her legs, leaving feather-light kisses up and down her inner thighs. Her head tossed from side-to-side, body struggling to keep still with your mouth so close to where she needed you. Testing the waters, you ghosted a kiss over her clit, watching as she shuddered upon contact.

God she was sensitive.

Finally taking mercy on her, you licked a long, broad stripe up the length of her cunt, tongue lingering on her clit perhaps a bit longer than necessary. The cries that erupted from her throat were enough to send shocks through your own body. You moved to straddle her leg, grinding against it while you ate her out—a shift not going unnoticed by Hazel, only spurring her forward.

“Ohmygod… Ohmygod fuck…” your name tumbled from her lips amidst her breathless moans. She squirmed under your touch—every lick, each roll against her shin setting her body ablaze. A smirk tugged at your lips as your mouth created a vortex around her clit, causing her eyes to roll back like a slot machine landing on the jackpot.

You didn’t get to do this for very long before her plush thighs enveloped your head. “W-what…? It feels… I think, I think I’m…”

“Breathe, baby girl,” you cooed, never taking your mouth off of her. “Just relax, cum for me. Fuck you’re doing so well…”

Her hands flew back to your scalp, legs shaking, guttural cries erupting from her throat as her orgasm consumed her. Fuck she sounded pretty. Her thighs kept you right where she needed you, only loosening once her breathing evened and she slowly came back to reality.

You lifted your head once her legs collapsed onto your bedspread, her bones feeling like jello. “Was that alright, Haze?” You asked, crawling back up to lay next to her.

“Wow,” she sighed, pupils dilated into big black buttons. “Just wow.” She laid there a moment, silently recovering, wearing a dazed, blissful expression. But then her face shifted into something sour, almost uneasy. “I don’t, I mean… I don’t know how…”

“It’s fine,” you ensured.

“It’s not,” she argued. “I mean, you were… and on my leg…”

“Hey, Hazel,” you brushed her hair back, letting your fingers fall. “We don’t have to do anything else. Tonight was about you.”

“No, no. Please, I wanna fuck you so bad, I’ve been daydreaming about it for so long.”

You couldn’t have blushed harder if you tried.

“I just… I haven’t… like you did with that girl from summer camp. What if I try and it isn’t anything like that?”

“Hazel…” you reached for her face, kissing her reassuringly. “It won’t be anything like it was with her.”

Her face fell. “It won’t?”

“Of course not,” you replied. “What I did with her, it was just sex. Nothing like this, this is completely different.”

“Why?”

You had to gather up the courage to say your next words. “Hazel… I’m in love with you.”

She finally faced you with wide eyes. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m saying it now.”

That blissful expression from earlier returned to her pretty face. “I love you too.”

You giggled, and she pulled you into another kiss. Her weight shifted until you were on your back, her body covering yours, legs on either side of your hips. She tried to emulate you, peppering kisses down your neck and chest until she reached the satin cusp of your bra.

“How do… uh… I only wear sports bras…”

You sat up, guiding her hands around to your back and helping her unhook your clasp. She slid it off your shoulders and tossed it aside without care, her attention fixated purely on the newly-exposed flesh in front of her. “Holy fuck,” she exclaimed on a sigh.

Another smirk crept across your face. “What? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think these were the first you’d ever seen!”

She shot you an unamused look before diving in, suckling at one of your breasts and pawing at the other. Her eyes stayed unblinking, watching you as your head relaxed further into the pillow and soft sounds spilled from your lips.

“Am I doing ok?” She asked in a whisper.

“More than,” your voice came out soft and sweet, causing the tips of your lover’s ears to tint pink.

Hazel trailed downward, her soft lips leaving kisses all the way down to your stomach, her tousled hair tickling your skin. She paused at your cotton panties, her thumb passing over the fabric with uncertainty.

“Need help taking those off too?” You quipped.

“Definitely not,” she replied, seizing the waistband and sliding them off your legs.

Hazel gazed upon your naked body as if she were an artist, and you her masterpiece. Her hands hesitated before resting on your ribs, fingernails gently scratching down the length of your sides. She bent down, planting kisses on your hip bones, reveling in your quiet whimpers.

“Hazel…” you purred, and she got the message. Her hand slipped between your legs, fingertips tracing your entrance before sliding inside.

“Ouch,” you hissed, sitting up in pain.

Startled, Hazel pulled her hand back. “W-what? What happened? Shit, did I hurt you?”

“Kinda…” you paused, trying to pinpoint the discomfort. It almost felt like she had unraveled a paperclip and impaled your core—an unpleasant sensation you couldn’t explain until you saw…

“Hazel,” you exclaimed with a laugh. “You kept your rings on!”

“Yeah…” she muttered, cradling the hand that burned you. “I thought you liked my rings.”

“I love your rings,” you assured. “Just not inside me.”

“But the characters in the fanfictions I’ve read keep their rings on, and the feedback is always positive!”

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from giggling at her protest. “Hazel, those fanfictions are written by people who probably haven’t experienced the real thing. Trust me, rings up there? Uncomfortable at best.”

Hazel nodded, mumbling a sheepish apology and removing her rings before slipping two fingers back in. “Better?”

“Much.”

With her confidence temporarily shaken, Hazel began to move against you, slowly, steadily, studying your facial expressions. Each gasp, every subtle twitch helped her gauge what you wanted, what you needed from her. She may have gone in blind, but she was a gifted learner, and you her favorite subject.

Soon after Hazel regained her certainty, you started to feel that familiar ache within your core. “Hazel… doing so good… my pretty girl… I’m so…”

She perked up, still keeping her hands where you seemed to want them. “Really? You mean it? Should I do anything different?”

You were about to shake your head, but stopped when you got an idea. “Do this with your fingers,” you demonstrated by curling your own.

She followed suit, reveling in your little mewls when she scratched against your g-spot.

But you weren’t finished yet. “Fuck… Hazel… almost… now just move your palm…”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Hazel curved her palm, stimulating your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you like a flash flood breaking through a dam. Your back arched, legs shaking, chest heaving as you rode out your climax. Hazel wouldn’t, couldn’t look away; a moment ago she had been naive, inexperienced, but now the prettiest girl she’d ever seen was creaming all over her fingers, and it was all her own doing.

Her movements halted at what she hoped was the right moment. She withdrew her fingers, curiosity overtaking her as she popped them into her mouth and moaned at the taste, instantly regretting not going down on you. Her mind swirled, flashbacks of what just happened mixing with the oblivion of what to do next.

“Hazel,” you said finally. “Come lay down.”

She crawled back up to you, laying her head on the pillow. “Did I do ok?”

You giggled. “You did perfect.”

A grin spread across her face, reaching from ear-to-ear. Her eyelids were already drooping. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” you rolled over, wrapping your arm around her waist and nuzzling into her hair. “Go to sleep, my love. You’ve had a big night.”

She snuggled up closer to you, muttering a barely-perceptible ‘I love you’ before drifting off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @k1ssm3m0re @joanvisitsrome @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @09carriages @hazelvrr @ummlover @lovinglynny @lilyannez @at1nyzen @lovepity @camilleee222 @reiisstuff @sofi4v13 @pensoterios @everybodyhatesari @sapphicarribean @sam-cooperrr @gay4lanadelrey666 @nickeverdeen

[heesdreamer]

SUNSHINE

PAIRING ➩ basketball player heeseung x cheerleader reader

WARNINGS ➩ um its super rough smut lol

WC ➩ 5k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ i hate both short works and straight smut but i guess that vlog got to me so here you go NOT PROOFREAD also i don’t like writing the boys completely out of character and i do not think hs would say or do half of these things lol but for the sake of the story

“You might just be the least positive cheerleader of all time.”

You were turning your head to the side to glare at the voice suddenly appearing from your left, sighing and rolling your eyes when you spotted who it was and going back to your position with your arms crossed on the side of the court as the game continued on.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be all smiley and ‘go team’?” Heeseung was continuing on even though you were clearly ignoring him, something you did every time he attempted to bug you during the games and rile you up enough to get a reaction.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the court and not sat next to me on the bench?” You were snapping back at him and you quickly glanced at him before looking away when you saw the familiar smirk creeping up on his face.

Heeseung was definitely not a bench warmer, far from it considering he was practically the star of your schools basketball team and he knew you were aware of this. That still didn’t stop him from occasionally allowing the coach to switch him out so he could come and sit near the cheerleaders, seemingly finding a lot of mid game entertainment in you and your cold reactions.

You’d gone to school with him for most of your life but you never really noticed him until high school started and you joined the cheerleading team under the pressuring words of your mom.

She’d been one when she was your age and she claimed it to be the sole reason she loved high school, the place where she met all of her friends and eventually your father when he transferred their junior year. You’d pretty much expected to be forced into it since you were a child and now on your fourth and final year, you were more so just going through the motions.

Your stoic, and borderline aggressive, personality mixed with the image of you in a small glittery skirt and your hair sporting a giant obnoxious bow in your schools representative colors, seemed to catch the attention of the star player and he hadn’t left you alone since.

“When would I get to talk to you if I wasn’t on the bench?” He was leaning sideways towards you and you frowned softly, trying to ignore him and the stupid smirk sticking to his face now. “It’s not like you stop for me in the hallways.”

“Have you tried taking a hint?” You were once again harshly spitting the words at him and you felt a bit frustrated with yourself for not being able to keep your composure like normal, already stressed from an intense workload and the building pressure of graduation as it approached. “Why can’t you go bother your fan club, I’m sure they’d be more than willing.”

Heeseung definitely didn’t have the same concerns as you and you didn’t necessarily blame him. It isn’t his fault he was immediately offered full ride sport scholarships to multiple different schools and as much as you hated to admit it, he worked hard for his success and he deserved it.

That fact still didn’t make it any less annoying that he was constantly bugging you with his quick comments about your attitude or his countless attempts to flirt with you, asking for your number or sending you Valentine’s Day singing grams every year since you’d met, even though you’d stormed into the cafeteria freshman year and dumped his soda on his head for humiliating you.

He hadn’t gotten upset and started to dislike you like you had hoped for, instead he smiled and moved his wet hair out of his face before asking if you liked the flowers he’d left at your locker.

“Why would I do that? You know you’re my favorite, sunshine.” His tone was lower now and the nickname fell from his lips casually, routine by now considering how much he said it despite the fact you told him to knock it off every single time he used it.

You were sparing him once last glare before turning back towards the game and ignoring the fact he was a lot closer to you now, one small sideways scoot away from being off the bench and on the same bleacher seat you were on.

He was persistent to a point that you could almost admire and you’d never be foolish enough to deny that he was almost stupidly attractive but that didn’t change anything for you. You had too many differences for you to be truly interested and it didn’t help that he smelt like sweat almost every single time you saw him.

Plus, you weren’t lying about his fan club and you already had to deal with numerous sharp glares and mean whispers throughout the years and that was without you reciprocating the interest.

You’d long associated the boy with negative things so it was pretty common for you to greet his smiley face with an eye roll or a straight up sneer, trying your hardest to ignore him but typically falling into a small session of half bickering half flirting before he was giving up again and leaving you to sit and seethe. You couldn’t even escape him at home either, something you were especially aware of right now.

It was two hours into trying to get some homework done and your patience was wearing thin the longer the sound of the basketball outside continued on.

You just so happened to be in the universes shit list and you lived directly across from a park in the neighborhood. You’d been excited when you first moved in, being able to play constantly when you were younger and eventually developing it into a nice place to sit and relax after school. You would have solo picnics under one of the big trees or just go and listen to music laying in the grass.

That is until Lee Heeseung also moved into the neighborhood, starting off your sophomore year with a big obnoxious moving truck on the other side of the park and what followed nearly drove you insane.

He was outside nearly every single day after school and practice, no matter if it was cold or hot, rain or snow. What once had been a calming spot for you to unwind was quickly overtaken by the sound of rubber against cement and you stopped going the day he started.

Sometimes he’d wave at you from the court, catching sight of you glaring down at him from your open bedroom window, but he never made any attempts to talk to you or invite you to join him unlike he did in school and neither of you ever mentioned the fact you were neighbors during your little moments of heated conversation. You learned to ignore him over time but you were particularly stressed recently and before you knew it you were letting out an annoyed yell before marching out of your room.

You’d barely processed the fact you were moving as you tugged a hoodie over your head and slipped on your boots, heading out the door and slamming it as you passed through.

Some of your fire had disappeared by the time you were actually pushing out into the cold night air and crossing the empty street, your steps becoming more hesitant as you entered the park and approached the basketball court, realizing you were going to have to actually speak to him. He didn’t look over as you got closer and your frown appeared again at the sweat gleaming from his skin, his neck red and agitated like he was pushing himself past his limit.

“Do you ever go home?” You were asking before you had decided it was a good idea and you were almost as surprised as he was to hear your voice, jumping slightly at the same time he did as he whipped around to look at you.

He looked confused for a second when he saw you standing there on the court with your hands stuffed in your pockets but when he seemingly processed it was you, he was breaking into a small smile.

You watched him as he continued to pant and try and catch his breath to be able to respond to you, sighing in the meantime and taking a few step backwards so you could sit on one of the benches and stare up at him in the middle of the court.

“Almost didn’t recognize you without your pretty little skirt, sunshine.” His response was eventually coming and it immediately pulled an eye roll from you despite the fact your stomach flipped as he took a few steps in your direction, tucking his basketball under his arm routinely and watching you with amusement and interest.

“Yeah well…” You couldn’t think of a good comeback as he continued to get closer and you inwardly blamed it on the cold.

“Did you come to cheer me on?” He was asking in a soft voice but it had a mocking hint to it, not necessarily mean but potentially bitter and you stared up at him as his eyebrow cocked. “My own personal cheerleader?”

You were trying to get a good read on his expression but it wasn’t making any sense to you, his face lacking it’s usual lightheartedness and almost looking conflicted as he watched you and seemingly waited for you to finally think of a witty response. You didn’t have one, thrown off by both his strange demeanor and having a conversation in an unfamiliar place and you couldn’t tell if he was pleased or disappointed at your sudden loss for words.

He wasn’t saying anything further and you would’ve sighed in relief if it wasn’t for the fact he was watching you so intensely, eventually sitting beside you on the bench and you tensed up when you felt his thigh pressing against yours.

“You didn’t have to stop playing.” You were eventually muttering and you would’ve been more self conscious about your out of character behavior if he wasn’t already being so strange.

“Yeah I did.” He was sighing and you turned your head to look at him, being met with his side profile as he stared straight ahead towards the court and ignored the fact you were staring at him. “You’re a distraction.”

A laugh was bursting from your lips accidentally, almost a scoff and you cut it off short by covering your mouth and giggling out an apology when he shot you a sideways glare. You were shaking your head and trying to gather yourself before clearing your throat softly. “You see me every time you play, never been a distraction then.”

“Are you kidding me?” Now it was his turn to laugh but it was a lot more dry than yours and almost sarcastic sounding, like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said that. “You don’t think seeing you in that outfit every game is a distraction?”

He was finally looking at you now and your face flushed at how close that made you, nearly touching noses if either of you leaned forward slightly but you stayed perfectly still and scanned over his face as you tried to take in his words. You would’ve thought he was joking around and doing his usual rounds of mindless flirting but his tone was flat and his face remained serious, even as you watched him curiously.

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond and your words felt caught in your dry throat, letting down your guard for just a second too long and being struck with nerves.

“A good distraction?” You were eventually pushing out and your voice lifted in a curious tilt, his serious face breaking into a small smile again at the sound of your soft question and hesitant tone, two things he rarely heard from you.

“Yeah sunshine, it’s good.”

——

You spent the next two days avoiding Heeseung as much as you can, having ended the night in some more whispered small talk before he was resuming practice and you were eventually slipping off back to your house once the cold became too much for your hands and nose.

It was weirdly nice to watch him play in a place where he wasn’t obviously trying to show off and under the pressures of competition, watching the skillful way he moved and the sweat that continued to reflect off his deep tanned skin despite the bitter cold touching on yours.

You still felt awkward for having interrupted him and it didn’t help that you had finally played into his flirting for once, mistakenly letting your guard down once you saw him in a more neutral environment and you felt extremely embarrassed about the whole entire encounter. You were telling yourself it had nothing to do with the fact he made your face flush every time he leaned closer or the way your stomach flipped as he talked about your skirt distracting him.

Sadly, you couldn’t stay away from him for long considering a school year quarter pep rally was approaching and everybody involved needed to come to the gymnasium to practice together, including both the cheerleaders and the basketball team.

You frequented the gym a lot more regularly than other students and were pretty used to being in front of a crowd or performing routines to all of your peers but you could tell some of the clubs who would be involved were feeling nervous, striking up conversation with one of the boys from the dance club to try and ease his nerves.

The conversation was entirely friendly and even a little bit awkward considering you barely knew him and he was a lot younger than you but little did you know, Heeseung was watching you from across the gym and making his own assumptions about the interaction.

You completely missed the way his jaw was clenching as he watched the two of you laugh, you instinctively leaning forward and touching the boys arm as a comforting gesture and giving further reason for the hard glare being sent your way from the other side of the room. It didn’t help that you hadn’t been speaking to him and had went right back to actively avoiding him, he’d been overthinking it and looking forward to talking to you about his worries today since you had to be in close proximity.

So it was driving him crazy that you still hadn’t approached him and even worse, you were too caught up in a conversation with some kid he didn’t bother to place a name to.

Eventually the first round of practice was going to start soon and Heeseung watched as your coach said something to you briefly, stared as you nodded in acceptance and then wandered off to go and gather whatever it was that she had asked for.

He was following behind you without even thinking about it, completely ignoring the calls from his teammates asking where he was going and urging him to hurry up before the run through started. You were heading back towards the storage lockers where there was plenty of extra balls and uniforms, anything that might be needed during a game or an event.

You were barely thinking about the basketball player during this whole time, too distracted with the busyness of the day, but he immediately came to mind when you felt something pressing up against you from behind after entering the storage room that was tucked behind the large indoor bleachers.

“What are you doing?” You were grumbling out to him in your usual annoyed tone even though your stomach was flipping at the fact he was actually touching you for once, something he rarely did despite his constant advances.

He wasn’t fully pressed against you but just enough so that you could feel his clothing near yours, you could sense his large frame looming over you and practically caging you in near the wall you’d been passing when he arrived. You shifted slightly so you could turn your head to look over your shoulder and glare up at him when he didn’t respond.

“Who’s the kid?” He was responding and his voice was lower than usual, lacking it’s typical lightness and humor that came along whenever he felt like teasing you.

“Don’t be jealous of a freshman, it’s not a good look on you.” You were shaking your head and sighing, turning back to look at the shelf and try your best to ignore him despite your alarming awareness to how close the two of you were.

It was only increasing when his hand was finally touching you, snaking forward and resting against your hip in a way that caused your breath to catch in your throat, making you lose your nonchalant demeanor for just a split second before you were attempting to compose yourself again. He was just holding onto your hip, his hand large enough that his fingertips were pressing into your stomach.

You didn’t say anything as he touched you and you still didn’t when he was tugging you backwards softly, pulling your bottom half against his instead of fully pressing against you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second at the feeling of him but you didn’t want him to see the obvious effect he had over you.

You were wearing a hoodie over your cheerleading uniform and half of his hand was underneath it so he could feel the hem of your skirt properly, bunching up the thick fabric around his arm slightly. He’d only pulled your lower half backwards so you were partially bent over now, barely enough to be noticiable but the implication made your cheeks burn.

“Why would I be jealous?” He was finally asking and his voice didn’t cut the tension at all, if anything worsening it. “Wasn’t him you were thinking about when you put this on.”

A scoff was falling from your lips at his sudden claim, despite how true it was considering you’d stared in the mirror particularly long this morning thinking about Heeseung calling you a distraction. Your careless attitude wasn’t holding too strong especially since he was squeezing your hip bone softly, your body instinctively pushing back further against him and causing your breath to stutter.

You felt slightly dizzy from the feeling of him against you so intimately, mixed with the fact that he had obviously been jealous over something as simple as you having a conversation. It should’ve annoyed you like it normally did but your heart raced slightly instead and you placed your hands against the wall subconsciously.

He took that as a cue to bend you over more, bringing his other hand up to your empty hip and using both of them to tug you fully backwards by the waist so you were flushed against him.

“Why are you wearing this?” He was suddenly asking and you were confused for a second before you felt him tugging on your large hoodie, childish annoyance in his tone at the fact most of your uniform was covered up.

You laughed softly at his whining, your voice embarrassingly affected and breathless. “Didn’t want to be a distraction.”

“That’s bullshit, you like knowing I’m watching you.” He was mumbling again now and it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, not really caring if you heard him. He was taking another step forward now and you could feel him more now, your head falling forward at the realization he was hard against you. “You’d let me take you right here, wouldn’t you?”

You considered not answering for a second and lowering his ego but he was slightly shifting backwards and releasing the pressure and a wave of panic ran through you.

“Yes yes I would.” You were rushing out and moving backwards to try and feel him again, ignoring the soft chuckle he gave and the way he squeezed your desperate hips in amusement. “You know I would.”

“Always so mean to me sunshine.” His voice was mocking again like it was the other night at the park and you were slightly thrown off by his change of demeanor, not expecting the roughness from the boy who was always big smiles and loud laughter everytime you’d seen him. He was bordering mean at times with his rough touches and provoking voice but you didn’t mind it at all, knowing you’d be dripping down your thighs if you were less clothed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being mean Hee.” Your voice was high and whiny but you were too turned on to be embarrassed, knowing how pathetic you must look.

“Show me how sorry you are.” He was instructing and you paused for a second, not exactly sure what he meant until he was lessening his hold on your hips. “Fuck yourself against me.”

Your breath was catching in your throat again and you let out a soft whine, one of your hands on the wall sliding down it slightly as you almost lost your balance.

He wasn’t exactly radiating patience and you were beyond desperate so you wasted no time in giving him what he wanted, pushing yourself back against him harder and crying out when you felt that he wanted it as much as you did, almost painfully hard now. His hips instinctively moved forward to meet yours but he immediately froze and stopped, letting you do all the work as you continued to roll your hips against him and try to get some sort of relief.

It wasn’t nearly enough for you, barely enough pressure for you to feel him and imagine how deep he would feel inside you but not enough to actually help you out in your building desperation, overwhelmed with longing for him as your hand fell off the wall and reach back to grab into his wrist.

“Please, I need you to touch me please.” You were begging him and a soft cry sunk into your voice, your head spinning with how bad you wanted to feel him anywhere.

“Fuck look at you.” He was grunting out before caving into your request, pulling you up softly and walking forward so now your entire body was pressed against the wall.

The cement was cold on your cheek and it would’ve been too uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the immediate distraction he was providing, his large hand slipping under your hoodie and aggressively groping your chest. His knuckles must’ve been rubbing against the wall but he didn’t show any signs of caring about the pain, twisting your hard nipple in his fingers and humping himself against you.

Your head was falling backwards to land on his shoulder, panting and letting out streams of high pitched whines as he roughly played with your mounds and thrusted against your skirt covered core.

He was using his free hand to reach over and grip your chin, holding it tightly between his fingers and turning your face so he could sloppily kiss you from where you laid on his shoulder. You were happily humming into his mouth despite the amateurish way you were moving against each other, more combined teeth and swapped spit than an actual kiss.

You could feel it dripping down your chin as he licked into your mouth, completely filthy and dirtier than you ever imagined him being. It was driving you absolutely insane and you’d completely forgotten about where you were or the fact people were expecting you back, the door not locked and accesible to anyone who came looking for you.

“Want you inside me Hee, please.” You were crying out into the kiss and he was only pulling back enough so you could speak, watching you with hooded eyes and parted lips and he tried to catch his breath and process what you were begging for. “I need you so bad, I can’t breathe.”

“Want me to fuck you sunshine?” His mocking tone was back and he squeezed your chest aggressively to emphasize his words, rutting against you in a sharp thrust that sent you harder into the wall again. He ignored your shocked cry and did it again before laying another wet kiss against your mouth. “Tell me baby, go on and beg for me.”

“I’ll do anything please, anything.” You were nearly sobbing now as you desperately tried to appeal to him, rocking yourself backwards into his hard cock to try and get him riled up enough to snap. “Need your cock in me so bad, do anything.”

Your words were slurred and mainly gibberish by now but it seemed to be enough for him, he cursed under his breath as he watched you desperately beg for him and you barely had time to process the fact he was moving before he was tugging down his basketball shorts and pressing your face against the wall again.

You moaned sharply into the cold cement and you were grateful it muffled it slightly considering you only got louder once he was roughly pulling up your skirt, ripping down your panties in one go and not bothering to warn or prep you before he was pressing the head of his hard cock against your entrance.

“Next time I’ll take my time with you, make you fall apart for me slow.” He was muttering in your ear as he lined himself up, pressing forward slightly and covering your mouth with his head when you let out a loud cry. “Can’t wait anymore though, gonna fuck you like the slut you are.”

You were nodding enthusiastically at his demeaning words, the more coherent part of you fluttering with butterflies at the fact he was already thinking about a next time that wasn’t so rushed. You had no issue with him simply fucking you now, feeling like you’d die if he spent another second teasing you or building up to it.

He was finally pushing himself fully inside you and your legs would’ve gave out if it wasn’t for his arm that was snaking around your stomach and his heavy weight pressing you against the wall, practically suffocating you as you lost your breath from the feeling of his complete length inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He was hissing out between gritted teeth and you instinctively clenched around him at the comment, satisfaction rolling through you when he groaned at the feeling. “No idea how long I thought about this.”

“Then show me.” You were snapping out, immediately hearing him laugh as your usual attitude resurfaced for a second, quickly growing impatient the longer he stayed still inside of you.

You were quickly taking back any anger you had when he was pulling out of you, almost all the way, before slamming his entire length back in. You could feel him so deep that you almost couldn’t catch a breath, bucking forward and your mouth parting in a silent cry that was immediately interrupted when he started to fuck into you at a fast pace.

He gave you no time to adjust to his thick size and you were grateful for it, the rough burn of him stretching you being exactly what you needed after years of bickering and teasing with him. It was beyond what you could’ve imagined, all that tension finally bursting into relief as he fucked you so rough you’d surely be coated in bruised by the time the pep rally actually rolled around.

You’d gone completely dumb and you knew he had too, holding his composure just enough to continue his aggressive thrust but losing all ability to tease you or make more comments towards your behavior.

He was holding you tightly against him and you almost wished you were somewhere more private so you could see him undressed, suddenly overcome with the need to feel his skin against yours and be completely covered in his warmth. You tried to ignore the unusually soft thought towards him and focus on how good he was making you feel, the familiar tight coil building in your stomach as he continued to fuck into you deep and rough.

“Please please.” You were begging again but you weren’t even sure what for at this point, your mouth just moving on instinctively so he didn’t stop under any circumstances.

“I know baby I know.” His voice was more gentle than it had been before but still just as tight and overwhelmed, definitely reaching the end rapidly himself like you were and trying his hardest to prolong it considering how good you felt as you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. “Squeezing my cock so good sunshine, you’re so perfect for me.”

“For you, just for you.” You were quickly responding to the casual possessiveness he had showed and this seemed to affect him more than anything, his hips faltering for a second in their assault before he was fucking into you even harder than you thought was possible. He clearly liked hearing you claim yourself as his own and you felt overwhelming dizzy at the realization.

It was a complete blur now as he fucked into you, coming undone faster than you ever had before and blacking out for a few seconds from the pleasure of him doing the same inside of you. You were too out of your head to care about the fact he had came inside of you and you didn’t even think about it.

You were immediately worried it would be awkward once you were coming back to your senses but then you processed the fact that Heeseung was placing soft kisses against your neck, turning you around gently so you were finally facing him and you felt a bit emotional from how kind he was being now after he’d just taken you so aggressively.

You were definitely in some sort of dropped space after the intensity you’d just been through because you were kissing him suddenly, happy you’d had him in that way but now feeling like you’d missed out on seeing him from this point of view.

He was grateful accepting the kiss and tugging you forward by your lower back, the same place he’d been holding but very different context now as he softly moved his mouth against yours and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Are you going to let me take you on a date now?” He was asking into the kiss and you pulled back to laugh softly, laying your head down on his shoulder and feeling the way they lifted as he chuckled at your reaction.

“Yeah hotshot… I’m sure we can work that out.”

[daddyricsdoll]

@d3kstar @fakehappy27

Thank you so much 💗1k ✭ Celebration!!

🤎⋆｡°✩

“Oh carino…” Carlos whispers in my ear, nose dragging along my hot skin. “You make me so insane.” His big hands grabbed my hips and pushed me further against the wall, taking away all my power and leaving me vulnerable to him.

Carlos’s mood already on a high since achieving a podium on the first race. Which left me with a need to give him a more intimate celebration. Going beyond the heated make outs and fingering. And venturing toward the only thing we haven’t achieved. 

I hadn’t even told Carlos what I hoped he’d do, but yet he showed a hunger for me that couldn’t be healed with a touch of fingers, but instead, his little virgins tight hole. 

A moan escaping my swollen lips and encouraging a groan to leave the Spaniards mouth. 

“Let me take your innocence hermosa.” Carlos grabs a hold of the end of my short dress, waiting for me to nod before he starts pulling the flimsy fabric up. Lifting my arms up and hearing the groan that flees between his plump lips. The cool air of the room brushes against my nearly bare body. Now only wearing light pink lace. 

Carlos does an easy job of ripping my lingerie, now revealing my pebbled nipples and core that gradually gets wetter and wetter by the second. “I don’t know how I held back so long.”

He takes a deep breath, holding my face and indulging both of us in such a love and lust inducing kiss. Only breaking the kiss to spread my legs and start rushing to undo his belt. Sliding it between each hole and throwing it to the floor before unbuttoning his trousers and leaving them to lay beside his belt. Leaving me with the outline of his dick through his boxers. My mouth opened and pussy throbbed at the thought of his size. Watching his hands pull the waistband down and expose his cock. Bobbing up and hitting his toned stomach. 

I didn’t know if he could fit, his fingers already being a stretch I’m not fully accustomed to. 

Carlos clearly ignores the worry on my face as he lifts one of my legs and pulls my body closer to his.

Holding his dick by my entrance and mixing his precum with my arousal to make it an easier job. My fingers make bruises into his shoulders as I grip him tightly, waiting for his inevitable push. “Fuck, don’t worry carino, I’ll make it fit.” Pushing himself in, inch by inch. Both of our breathing, uneasy and heavy. Pain sears through me, and just as a broken scream tries to leave my mouth, Carlos forces two of his fingers between my lips. Allowing my teeth to bite into them as he tries to distract the pain with pleasure. Other hand, rubbing my clit. 

I try to moan out his name, but it comes out muffled as Carlos gags me with his digits. Cock nearly bottoming out and already hitting my g-spot. 

“Te voy a abrir con mi verga.” (Gonna open you with my cock) Carlos starts moving again. Making small thrusts that eventually get bigger, and bring tears to my eyes. Finally managing to hold himself back as I endlessly clench around his dick. Carlos’s thrusts become rams and he treats me with only petite sprinkles of care. Just the way I would’ve begged him for. Satisfaction sparking through me at each rough snap of his hips. Hair perfectly falling and sitting in front of his mesmerising eyes. His stare not the usual one I’d disintegrate into, but grow more flammable. Turning the heat inside of me enough to make us both burn. 

The feeling of his cock, such a sensual ache. And as Carlos moves in and out I can only imagine how my slick covers his shaft. How tight I must be and how close he is to exploding. 

Bringing me back to the tight feeling in my stomach. A knot that just needs to be solved. And just as Carlos hits my g-spot with precision I ultimately let go. 

Digging my nails into his tan skin and creating crescent like shapes. My climax topping every other one that he’s brought me to. But my body doesn’t relax yet, still clenching and throbbing just waiting for Carlos to release. Hearing the way his grunts sound closer to moans and his dick starts spasming. 

Exploding and covering my walls with his cum. Marking me from the inside and out.

“Fuck Carino… I need more.”

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

do not translate/repost/give my works to ai

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You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | vi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

An eternity seems to fly by as you wait for Coriolanus to do what you’re too terrified to do on your own. During the agonizing minutes, you picture William’s face. The confusion, the hurt. Tears skip down your cheeks as you curl over the blankets, knees against your chest.

Hopefully your reckless actions haven’t ruined what you two have. Maybe one day, you’ll even jest about it, the pre-wedding jitters that caused you to hide for a week.

It’s the meager hope you cling onto as the soft tap on the door draws you from your thoughts.

Coriolanus nudges the door open, a silver tray between his hands. A matching porcelain kettle and cup sit on the tray.

The mattress sinks as he sits on the edge of the bed, placing the steaming teapot at your bedside. Your gaze drags over the colorful roses painted on the porcelain set. 

Tearful eyes rising to his face, you ask “H-How did it go?”

His long fingers drape over your cheek, wiping your tears as he smiles down at you. “Everything’s alright.” His deep soothing voice brings you comfort as it rolls over you. “Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, just like I promised you.” He collects the tea cup from the tray. The steam rising from it caresses your face.

“It’s my own personal blend of chamomile, peppermint and lavender, for your nerves.”

“I don’t need that.”

Concern sways in Coryo’s blue orbs, his thumb collecting another stray tear.

“You had an emotional day. It’ll help you sleep, trust me.”

You don’t reply, laying the side of your face against the pillow. Do you even deserve to sleep soundly after causing the people in your life so much unnecessary distress?

Maybe this is what you deserve, unending nights wrestling with your own mind while you drown in a river of your own tears. After all, if you hadn’t overindulged in alcohol that night, you wouldn’t be here. You still remember the way Coryo described it. Were you truly that desperate to bury Sejanus’ memory, to forget?

Coriolanus strokes the crown of your head.

“I just want you to get one good night of rest. You need it. Do you really want to spend the entire night torturing yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong?”

For a while, silence hangs between the two of you, Coriolanus letting you weep as he patiently cups your face. The aromatic scents of the herbs he mixed in the tea tickle your nose. You have to admit, it smells heavenly. Like peace. The thing you’re craving most at this very moment. For your thoughts and emotions to fall silent, allowing you to drift into a dreamless slumber.

So you surrender.

You sit up and graciously accept the cup Coryo offers you. As soon as the first few drops of the warm liquid coat your tongue, a heady, pleasant feeling swaddles your mind. It makes your body feel heavy, pleasant warm tingles swirling over your flesh.

“I’m starting to feel…”

Coryo’s beaming face starts blurring in your line of sight. Your grip on the cup weakens. He assists you in holding it, tipping the rim against your lips so you gulp another sip.

“Drink more. All of it.” You heed his instruction. The drowsiness grows tenfold. Your lids sag. Your body slumps over the pillows. You feel the soft brush of Coriolanus’s lips on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

You awake from the best sleep you’ve had in literal weeks, a wide smile stretching over your lips as you unfurl from the sheets.

Unlike the nights before, you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, crying or tossing and turning in bed.

You pivot to the sun rays spilling from between the curtains. You bask in the rejuvenating warmth kissing your skin. For a while, you stay like that, in awe that your mind isn’t crowded with anxious thoughts. Instead, you’re calm, rested, your head light as feathers. Even your grief is a faint noise when it’s usually so loud, its uproarious presence twisting your heart first thing most mornings. 

It’s a newfound serenity you haven’t known in many weeks.

Even the bone-deep ache sitting in your limbs cannot cast a pale on the day. As you step in the rose-scented bath that’s been drawn for you, the soreness lingers. You grimace a little.

Perhaps you slept so heavily, your entire body is tense from it.

But as you lie back and let the hot water work its magic, the pain starts to fade. You let the strange sensation melt away, smiling once more.

You enjoy your bath. A bright, wonderful day awaits you.

When you’re done, you put on one of your favorite day dresses and hop down the stairs.

You find the entire Snow clan having breakfast in the dining room.

Coriolanus peeks from above the morning paper, his face brightening as his gaze flicks over you.

As you approach the empty chair near Grandma’am, Coriolanus rises and pulls it for you.

“Good morning,” you chime while plopping into your seat.

Tigris beams at you. “Good morning. I see someone’s feeling better.”

You tuck your hands into your lap as a maid places a scrumptious plate of eggs and meat in front of you. Your stomach growls at the sight and you pick up your fork, excited to dig into the food. You haven’t had a proper meal since you left Ma and Dad’s house.

Although, even that is a fuzzy memory, as you can’t remember the last time all of you sat down and had a proper breakfast as a family since Janus passed away.

It’s been too hard.

Shoving the fork into your mouth, you acquiesce, “Much better.” You hum as the flavors melt on your tongue.

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip quirk as he observes you. He returns to his seat and bends forward.

“I take it you’ve had a restful night, princess?”

“Yes, and I have you to thank for that. I don’t know what’s in that tea exactly but it works wonders.”

“I’ve had the opportunity to experiment with many natural remedies while working under Dr Gaul.” A glint dances in his blue eyes. “Some plants have the most…fascinating benefits.”

“I think I’ll take some with me home, if you don’t mind. Not just for me but Ma has struggled with sleep ever since…”

Your voice dwindles as an abrupt wave of sadness passes over you.

Tigris grabs your hand and squeezes it across the table.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Coriolanus nods in agreement. “She’s right. Take it one day at a time, princess.”

You ponder what he just said. You are feeling markedly better today, but you loathe thinking about your mom and dad alone.

You swallow a wide lungful.

“Maybe I should go back home tomorrow.”

Coriolanus’ gaze narrows, his smile vanishing momentarily before sliding back into place.

“This early? Shouldn’t you rest a bit more first? It’s clear that you need it.” He studies you for a long time. “You can’t be here for others when you aren’t healed yourself.” You shudder. Sometimes the blond seems to possess the uncanny ability to peer right inside your head. He reaches over the table to place his hand over yours. “Don’t rush it. Like I told you before, our home is your home.”

You don’t find it in yourself to argue, Coriolanus’ gentle yet firm grip on your hand and his smile chasing away your doubts.

“O-Okay.”

Satisfaction glimmers in his gaze at your response.

As Coryo advises, you remain with his family a little while longer. Everyday, he finds gentle words to convince you to extend your stay. It doesn’t take much for you to believe him as you trust him fully, his caring demeanor reminding you of your brother. If Coryo thinks you need a bit more time, he must be right. He only wants what’s best for you.

So a few days turn into a week, which eventually becomes two weeks. Surprisingly, you and the Snows’ daily routines twine with ease. In the morning, you have breakfast together in the dining room. Then you tend to the roses with Grandma’am while she hums songs to herself, an endearing habit you’ve grown quite fond of.

And you usually spend the rest of the day with Tigris, chatting or playing board games, or on your own, reading most of the time. Coriolanus’ library is massive enough to rival the one you have at home. You never run out of things to do in the gigantic penthouse, even sometimes cleaning and cooking to pass the time, efforts Coriolanus never fails to praise you for.

Whenever he returns home to a spotless house or one of your delicious meals, his blue eyes light up with happiness.

And of course, at night, Coryo talks to you in your bed while you dutifully drink your tea, regaling you with stories about his apprenticeship and the University. Most of the time, you never get to learn how they end because you fall asleep.

Thanks to Coriolanus’ herbal mixture, your sleeping schedule is back to relative normalcy. The only downsides are the tea’s peculiar side effects, as near everyday you wake up sore and aching. But the slight inconvenience is minor compared to the benefits you’ve experienced.

All is good and well until one day glimpses of lost memories flash in your brain.

You’re starting to remember the night of Clemensia’s party.

It first happens as you’re gardening with Grandma’am. You’re watering one of the rose bushes when something rushes back to you, something so vivid the watering can in your hand clatters to the ground.

You stumble back, your breaths quickening. Placing a hand between your shoulder blades, Grandma’am helps you find your way to a nearby bench. You collapse atop the bench, your mind whirling.

Her wrinkled features crease in concern.

“Are you alright, sweet girl? Should we call a doctor?”

“I’m fine, grandma’am. Just got dizzy for a bit.”

You smile, hating that you just lied to the older woman. You’re not fine. You’re starting to remember things, things that don’t match up, make no sense.

Terrible things.

I knew you’d feel just perfect around me.

Chills bounce across your spine. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the bench as your breath flows back to your lungs.

You come to a decision. 

You need to talk to Coriolanus. 

Your brows squeeze together in frustration as the balding man checks your pulse and shines a light in your eyes again. It’s the third time tonight. Coriolanus insisted upon it.

“I told you there was no need for a physician, Coryo.”

“Grandma’am said you almost passed out,” the blonde retaliates.

You heave out a deep exhale as you glance at Tigris and Grandma’am standing nervously by the wall. They’re wearing the same concerned expression. 

You wished Grandma’am hadn’t made such a big deal of your little moment in the garden. You feel fine…well, physically at least.

You flash a feeble smile at Coriolanus.

“I didn’t…it was just a dizzy spell. Nothing honestly.”

Brows knitting, he turns to the bespectacled older man at his side.

“Doctor?”

As the man nearly approaches you again, you shoot him a warning glare. You refuse to be poked and prodded once more. Lifting his hands, the man falls back.

He adjusts the stethoscope around his neck.

“I see nothing wrong,” he says. Your shoulders sag in relief. “Still, I’d recommend that your wife takes it easy, sir.”

His words make every hair on your skin stand on end.

“I’m not his wife,” you snap.

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks. 

He turns to the others and instructs, “Everyone, leave us alone.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation on Tigris’ face. She lingers at your doorstep after Grandma’am and the doctor take their leave.

“Are you really sure that you’re okay?” she asks.

You purse your lips. “I’d feel better if everyone stopped fussing over me.”

She nods before leaving as well.

As soon as the door to your bedroom closes, Coriolanus sinks to one knee in front of you. He takes your hands in his, his thumbs brushing circles into your skin.

His cobalt eyes are wide and worried.

“Is something wrong?”

Your stomach knots. “Coriolanus…”

“Yes?”

You draw your hands back, placing them on your lap. His gaze tracks the tiny motion and he squints. 

“That night…” You lick your lips, nerves flaring as your fingers bounce. Just these two words have Coriolanus’ attention on you sharpen in a way that turns your blood to ice. Still you gather your courage and continue, “Did I say no at any point, tried to…stop it? Did…Did you, Coryo?”

The moment your doubts are uttered aloud, you loathe yourself. It’s an awful thing to even suggest. But you can't shake the feeling that there is something Coriolanus isn’t telling you. 

And maybe you always felt that way, like something isn’t quite right, but you craved so badly to have a piece of your brother near that you ignored the glaring signs. 

Shock paints Coriolanus’ handsome face.

“What? I already told you everything that happened, that I was drunk, we both were.”

You peer at Coriolanus. It hurts. So goddamn much. A knife twisting in your chest, again and again. Especially that look of utter betrayal on his face. You don’t want to casually toss those kinds of accusations at your friend. 

But your mind…

It’s bursting at the seams, moments you’re beginning to recall seeping through the cracks. You can’t ignore that. Not the sick echo of Coriolanus’ lustful tone. Not the terrifying glint swaying in his blue eyes. Not the way he panted and grunted above you as you told him to stop. Or at least you think you told him?

You’re not even sure. You’re torn. Coriolanus wouldn’t do that…right? Someone you trust. Someone Sejanus trusted…with you.

Tears swell in your eyes, threatening to break past the confine of your lashes.

Anger flashes in Coriolanus’ eyes. “Really?” he scoffs, bolting to his feet. “You don’t trust me?”

He blurs in your tear-stained vision, distorting to hazy colors you don’t recognize anymore.

“Coryo…” you sob.

He hunkers in front of you again. The anger vanishes, making space for disappointment and sadness.

He cradles your face, his tone softening.

“I would never hurt you,” he mumbles. “How could you even imply…after everything I’ve done for you.”

A shaky breath flutters through your lips. You search Coriolanus’ face, hoping to find something. A truth, an emotion, a lie. Anything, really. Any proof that you’re not crazy, that your mind isn’t just spinning wild stories out of thin air.

Nothing comes up. Coriolanus’ face is a perfect mask of genuine concern and sincerity, right down to his glistening gaze. Doubts even begin to creep inside you beneath his intense stare. 

But the longer you look into his eyes, the more unnerved you grow. 

Something is off. No one can convince you otherwise. Not anymore.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

“I-I think I need to go home now, Coriolanus.”

You don’t want to be here anymore, in this house you don’t know, with this man…you’re beginning to realize you don’t know either.

You want to be back home, your real home. You crave the safety of your own bed, of Ma’s warm embrace, of the familiar walls of your childhood home.

Instead of acknowledging what you just said, Coriolanus flashes you a bright grin.

“We can discuss it tomorrow.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you. You frown.

“But Coryo-”

He leans to place a tender kiss on your forehead and you freeze. Every cell in your body longs to flinch away from him but gut-gripping fear keeps you in your spot.

“Tomorrow, princess,” he whispers. He fondles your cheek. You can’t tamp down your shudder. Coriolanus’ brow pinches as he gets to his feet. “It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

Coriolanus heads for the door. 

“Sweet dreams,” he coos, smiling. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

When the door slams shut, a sound you never heard before echoes from outside. The sound of a key slotting and turning inside a lock. The kind of sound suggesting you’re now trapped in the room.

Your gut sinks.

You find yourself wondering; will tomorrow ever come?

[eetherealgoddess]

Before you continue, this ends dark as hell so I’m gonna warn you rn!!! Hope you like it anyway! ♡︎♡︎

ꨄEscaping Bonten is for Scrapsꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Assassin Au

❦You are an assassin that’s after a target Bonten already has their paws on❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Escaping Bonten is for Scraps

You eye around the busy nightclub, pushing through the crowd as you search for your assigned target. Eyebrows furrowed as your nose scrunches at the thick tobacco smell mixed with alcohol and a variety of cologne and perfume.

“Where is this guy?” You hiss, shoving a drunk person to the side as you head to the back of the building. Once you push the doors open, you see the tall staircase, sighing before stepping on.

Why did I have to get assigned to a club?

It’s not that you were against the party scene, it’s just not ideal for a mission to find someone you need to kill. Your boss chose you for the assignment created by a bitter divorcee. You roll your eyes as you remember the file stating, “Please murder my cheating ex husband.” Of course, your company is underground and perfect for not being caught, though why risk going to prison over a cheating spouse?

Fortunately, this should be fairly quick. The soon to be deceased spouse is known for his drinking habit, speaking belligerently as he drunkenly walks from bar to bar which makes him an easy target. You followed him here, his third club of the night. You couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him considering he is just minding his business and drinking on his lonesome. Sure, he’s bitter as well and is a slob but it’s probably just a down point in his life.

At least I’ll put him out of his misery.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, noticing that the whole floor is empty, you pull your gun out, readying it to use. You hold it down to your side as you walk from room to room, searching for your victim. When you see that the whole upper stairs is empty, you hide your gun, and walk towards the exit of the room you just entered. Your eyes widened when you heard a scream coming from behind you.

You turn around and quickly move to the window, squatting, hiding yourself behind the wall so the people outside couldn’t see you. Easing your head up, you peeked to the outside. Standing at the back of the building, a group of men in suits hover around a kneeling man who’s covering his head as one of the men slams his foot against his side, causing him to fall over. You notice a smaller man who stood in the middle of the suited men walk closer to the male on the ground.

Your eyebrows raise when the man is forced to put his arms down as the shorter man crouches in front of him, realizing the guy is your target.

“What did this guy get himself into?” You whisper to yourself before moving quickly to crack the window so you can decipher what’s occurring.

“You owe us a lot of money, Nakamura.” A man with two blonde strands says, his wide eyes staring deeply at the victim.

“I-I know! I’m going th-through a divorce. I j-just need more time!” He coughs out blood in between his words. The short man in front of him leans in.

“You’ve wasted my time.” He stands up before moving back, motioning for the purple haired man holding the baton to walk forward.

He swings his arms back before slamming them down with a smirk on his face. He repeatedly hits the man over and over again with so much force that blood splatters on his own suit. The man cries out in pain as he becomes light headed.

You wince as you watch this painful sight.

Damn, now I’m feeling even more bad for this guy. I think I’m just going to go ahead and shoot him. Help him out, forreal.

Standing up completely, you aim at the man’s head perfectly with the gun. Without needing the other guy to stop beating him, you pull the trigger, a shot ringing out loudly. The bullet penetrates his head, killing him on the spot. The men, startled, looked around their surroundings as the pink haired man turned to the window, his blue eyes catching yours before you turned on your heel and ran.

“Fuck, he saw me!” You hiss as you run down the stairs, gun hidden as you push through the crowd.

Fortunately, it looks as though you all are into some shady business, though that doesn’t mean you want to catch their attention. You run out of the exit and rush to your car parked at the side of the building.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You rush to unlock the car before hopping in. Before you could close the door, a hand blocks the door. Your wide eyes meet purple orbs before you're pulled out of the car by your shirt. Before you could grab your gun, your front is forced against the car as your gun is grabbed and aimed at your head. The man with the purple mullet holds your arms behind your back with one hand. Before you could say anything, the butt of the gun meets your head, darkness engulfing your vision.

When you first wake up, your eyes meet a dimly lit warehouse, a throbbing pain at the side of your head causes you to pull against the restraints you didn’t know were there to touch your head. Groaning your eyes, the rope strategically tied around your ankles strapping you to the chair.

“Damn.” You breathe out. The click of a gun sounded next to your head causing you to make eye contact with the blue-eyed man you saw before.

“You’re an assassin working for an underground company, right Y/n?” You look up to see the short man sitting on a chair in front of you at a distance. The men stood around him, eyeing you.

“Who am I answering to?” You question, resulting in the gun being pushed against your head harder causing you to wince, the spot where you were once hit feeling raw under the barrel of the weapon.

“I don’t repeat myself.” The sunken eyed man states, his white hair hovering over his face.

“Yes.” You spit out, frustration being the only emotion to decipher at the moment.

“You work for Bonten.” You gasp at the familiar name.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The gun smacks against your face, forcing your head to lean to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut in pain.

“Watch your mouth.” The pink haired man growls, using one hand to force your head back in place before replacing the barrel in the same spot.

“You will keep your assassin title and you will work under the executives.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Or what?” You hiss. The pale man signals for the taller short haired man to walk towards you holding his baton. He smiles before pulling it back and slamming it against your stomach. You lean forward before coughing out blood.

“You die.” Your new boss states.

A few months pass before you’re completely used to the yakuza scene. There are times when you wonder what exactly did they see in you to ‘hire’ you as an assassin working under the executives. It wasn’t a hard job, basically like the one you were used to besides the power dynamic. Although you worked under an old boss, he treated everyone equally and you had normal coworkers who you’d go out to the bars with occasionally. You were free to live your own life as long as you didn’t get caught.

Working under Bonten, you weren’t allowed the same freedom as your executives. Your job title was assassin but considering their low respect for you, sometimes you were a maid, assistant, butler, etc. At least that’s what it felt like when you had to run errands for them that didn’t involve shooting a bullet in someone’s head. Sure it’s nicer than killing but who wants to work to serve a bunch of disrespectful men?

Not to mention, you weren’t allowed outside without being accompanied by one of the executives. Of course, the executives you wouldn’t mind being around such as Mochi, Kakucho, Koko, and Takeomi weren’t the ones who accompanied you. It was always the Haitani brothers, Kazutora, or Sanzu. Even when you’re supposed to be off the clock you were always around at least one of them. You no longer have your own apartment and have to stay in a designated room in a penthouse that holds all of your rooms, though everyone else owns their own homes.

Currently, you are sitting in the vip section of one of the Haitani brother’s clubs, arms crossed along with your leg as you lean back on the couch. Kazutora plops next to you with a drink in hand along with one of the strippers in the other, her bare breasts out as she holds onto him.

“You don’t look so happy, Y/n. Should we have taken you to a male strip club?” He taunts, finding amusement in her pouty face.

“I’m glad you find humor in my suffering. I just want to go to bed.” You respond.

A dip on your other side causes you to turn your head to meet Sanzu who has a speck of white dust under his nose. He wipes using his sleeve before handing you a cup of alcohol.

“Live a little, yeah?” You raise a brow as you push the drink away. You had to admit how interesting it was to see the different contrasts between the infamous mad dog. One minute he’s all serious for ‘his king’ and the next he’s sniffing angel’s dust off of a stripper's ass. Interesting indeed.

“I don’t know what you put in that.” You state before turning away from him.

“Then take this. It’s just champagne.” Rin smirks as he hands you another glass from a separate chair, man spreading as he smokes a blunt.

“And I should trust you, why?” You roll your eyes before standing up.

“Where are you off to?” Ran asks as his hand grips the butt cheek of the stripper sucking his neck.

“Bathroom.” You state before walking out. You eye the guards before heading to the restroom.

You walk to the sink and lean over, staring at yourself in the mirror as you think your life over and what brought you to this point. You swiftly turn your head when someone walks into the bathroom. You notice the woman is wearing a poorly done wig with a coat on. You contemplate whether or not you should knock her out and disguise yourself so you can make a run for it.

My morals have always been skewed anyway. I’m sorry lady.

Before she could walk into the stall, you grab her and press her pressure point, catching her before she falls. You undo her coat and set the purse on the ground, lying her head on it gently before pulling her wig off. Setting the wig on as well as the coat, you walk out of the bathroom.

You walk at a steady pace to look anything but suspicious while keeping your head down. When you successfully pass the guards you make a run for it, rushing out of the club and finding a taxi to pick you up, throwing your phone out of the window for safety from a tracking device.

Your adrenaline pumps as the hairs on your body stand. You breathe heavily as you give the taxi man the direction to your old company’s headquarters. When you got there, you ran into the building in search of your boss. When you find his office, you push the doors open and run towards the man who looks at you with shock.

A year passes and he helps you back on your feet. Staying as an assassin would have been dangerous considering the first place Bonten searched for you was the headquarters. Fortunately, he has a family who owns different businesses so you currently work at a bakery on the farthest side of a city hours away from where you used to reside.

One night, you were cleaning up the floors, closing the store. You had already locked the door so you were confused when you heard someone entering the building. Looking up, you dropped the broom when you recognized Mikey standing in front of the door with a gun pointed at you. Before you could move, a hand wrapped around your mouth as someone grabbed your arms, pulling you against a chest. You struggle in their hold.

Your eyes widen when you see your boss and his family consisting of his wife, two of their adult children, and one child being dragged in wrapped in rope and bags over their heads. You scream against the hand.

“Relax and everything will go smoother.” The voice she recognized as Kazutora states behind her.

Once the other men force everyone on their knees in front of her, they pull the bags off their heads.

She screams once more when she makes eye contact with all of them, tears running down her face for the first time at the face of death.

No they can’t do this! This can’t be happening!

Complying to Mikey’s order, Kazutora removes his hand from her mouth as he locks arms with hers. She pulls against him as she tries to release herself, to no avail. The Haitani brothers watch in amusement as they stand behind the two adult kids. Sanzu stands behind the child as Mikey moves to stand behind the boss.

“This is your fault.” He says to you, glaring before he sets his gun to the man’s head. The child cries along with the mother and the children. The man’s eyes are wide as he looks to the side in the direction of his family. They were prevented from talking, mouths bound shut as they squeal and groan.

“Mikey! M-Mikey please don’t do this! I-I’ll stay this time I swear to god! Please… just kill me or something d-don’t take it out on them!” You cry out, devastated by the display as the guilt takes over.

“Sanzu.” He states. Everyone watches as he sets the barrel of the gun on the child’s head, pulling the trigger before anyone could think. There was a pause as the shot rang out, the blood and brains splattering against his siblings, the wall, and the floor.

“STOP! NO MORE!” You let out a blood curdling scream. You pull and pull against Kazutora as he grips you tighter.

Your boss wails against his restraints angrily, falling over when he attempts to stand up, lying pitifully on his side as he kicks his feet and pulls against the rope. The wife and their children cry out, tears dropping fast as they squeeze their eyes shut.

“Haitanis.”

“NO! NO MIKE-!” The shots rang out, more blood and brains splattering as their limp bodies fall to the ground, one sibling with half of their head gone as well as the other along with an eyeball, their blood reaching their mother as she completely bends over and cries.

Mikey aims at the wife shooting her twice before her limp body falls, the husband still as he weeps for his deceased family. Kazutora allows you to drop to your knees. Hands placed on the ground as you become light headed. Finally, vomit shoots up your throat as you release the contents on the ground. Gagging and belching as your body shakes, wet with sweat.

This must be my karma for all of the wrong doings. This must be how people feel when they see their loved ones die.

“I-I’m so sorry, Akihiko. I’m so fucking sorry.” You whine out, tears and snot falling as you become a wreck. He looks at you with despair.

“Please, escape the-!” Before he could finish his sentence, Mikey had already blown his brains out.

You gaze at the messy floor with a blurry vision and wide eyes. Footsteps stop in front of you, missing the vomit. Mikey crouches down and pulls you by the chin to look up at him, gun still in the other hand.

“If you try to leave again, I’ll blow your legs off.”

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 31

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 28, part 29, Part 30

“Where’s Steve,” Dusitn asks Robin immediately after walking through the Family Video doors.

Robin looks up from the customer she’s checking out, already looking a little annoyed. But that could have been from the customer and not him. He hopes it’s not him.

“On his break, why?” She returns her attention to the customer, sliding the tape across the counter with a receipt. Very pointedly saying, “Don’t forget to be kind and rewind.”

The customer walks out of the store, leaving it empty except for the two of them. “I have an idea to help Eddie, but it involves his house.”

“What’s the idea?” Robin pushes herself up on the counter, spinning around so she’s facing him.

Dustin pulls out a notebook, a full pros and cons list already at the ready. With details of why this plan needs to happen, and why it needs to happen soon. Why it is the best plan and a rebuttal to every single argument Steve could have.

“Oh Jesus, what the hell is that?” Robin asks.

“Just the plan.”

Steve comes out of the break room, registering that Dustin is there and that he is holding a notebook.

“What is it this time?” he groans. Walking in front of the counter and leaning back next to Robin. Crossing his arms, ready to veto.

“I need you to loan two of your rooms to Wayne and Eddie.”

“What?” Steve asks surprised. And confused. Robin looks the same.

“Yeah,” Dustin takes a quick glance at his notebook, finding the best place to start. “Wayne was over at my house the other night having dinner and my mom had brought up how nice it would be for Eddie to go home to his own bed. Which is currently split in two in a biohazard area that no one can enter. And Wayne hasn’t found them another place to live yet, and Eddie shouldn’t be discharged to a motel. So,” he pauses. For a mix of dramatic effect and in the hopes that they might fill in his next sentence.

“So, you want Steve to let them stay in his house until Wayne can find a place,” Robin finishes his sentence.

Dustin nods. “Exactly.”

Steve thinks about it, scratching at his jaw. “I mean, I could probably do it. I’m not sure they would accept it though.”

He was honestly not expecting Steve to accept that fast. The notebook almost feels foolish now. “Why would they not? They need a place to stay, you have a big house that no one other than you lives in half the time. It’s a good plan.”

“On paper, but that doesn’t mean they’ll accept it.” Robin looks at Dustin with an empathetic expression.

Steve extends one of his hands toward Robin in agreement. “Eddie says that Wayne can be stubborn when asking for help. Or accepting it. Something big like this might take some convincing.”

Dustin doesn’t remember Eddie saying that during one of their visits.

“When did he tell you that?”

“I don’t just visit him with you, you know,” Steve says like it makes perfect sense.

“Yeah, he spends so much time at the hospital now,” Robin teases. Bumping her shoulder into Steve’s.

Steve shoves her back. “Shut up.”

“Anyway.” Dustin chooses to ignore whatever that was about. “This took a lot less convincing than I thought it would.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve shrugs. “I already let Mrs. Mayfield stay with me when she was looking for a new place to live. And Robin’s parents while their house was being fumigated. Not the first time I offered this.”

Still, these were people he didn’t know as well. Or maybe knew a bit more than Dustin was expecting. He wanted Eddie and Steve to become friends. Was begging for it before spring break. It must have happened sometime along then. Dustin thought that they were just being civil. Against a common goal and then would part their separate ways.

But he was glad that they got past the size of their persona’s and saw the people underneath. They would be really good friends if they would have done that a lot sooner. Now they can be, he guesses.

“And I have the garage set up as a gym, so Eddie can do his physical therapy exercises in there. Plus, my parent’s giant ass tub if he can’t stand long enough for the shower.”

“You could also fill in the pool,” Dustin adds. Making a few notes in his notebook. The title now scribbled out. Replacing, “Ways to Convince Steve,” to “Ways to Convince Wayne.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it filled.”

Something about Steve suddenly becomes cagey. Staring off in the distance and his smile wavering. “Yeah, maybe.”

Dustin’s really excited about this now. Realizing that this could be good for all of them. Steve would finally have some people living in his house for more than just a night. Have people looking out for him, Dustin assumes, when things get bad. Instead of Steve just suffering with it alone. And Eddie and Wayne would have some very nice beds to sleep in.

Then there’s the way it would benefit Dustin. Instead of having to drag Steve out of his house to go to the hospital every day, he could just stay there. Watch over both Steve and Eddie, under the same roof. Temporarily. But it might put the constant worry in his mind a rest.

The nightmares haven’t exactly gotten better as Eddie got better. Vines and bat bites morphing into endless wires and ripped open stitches. Fears of bleeding out in a place that no one will find him changes into dying in the place that was meant to save him.

Nothing ever ends, it just changes. From one thing to the next for the rest of his life. Seasons change and time moves on, but part of Dustin stays trapped in that November where it all started. A younger version of himself trapped behind bars and waiting to be saved. Slowly coming to the realization that it never will be.

Dustin is forever changed. So are these people around him. They will never get their lived back on the tracks they were before the upside down caused a permanent derailment.

If parallel dimensions can really exist, then who’s to say whether there is one where none of this happened. Where Dustin grew up with the innocence a twelve-year-old should have. And nothing caused it to break too soon.

But if that was really true, he wouldn’t have the people in his life he did today. Was innocence so worth it to lose this family he had?

He watches as Robin and Steve have to go back to their jobs when a customer walks through the doors. Moving seamlessly around each other to do their job in the most efficient way possible. Having silent conversations with their eyes and micro expressions. Before turning back to Dustin in near unison as soon as the customer leaves.

“So how are we going to convince them?”

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[in1-nutshell]

How would the tfa bots and cons react to a bot who is starscream twin brother base on his shattering glass counterpart

Since there isn't too much information on TFA Starscream's personality I mixed it a bit with IDW's Shattered Glass Starscream. Buddy the loyal Decepticon and Starscream the backstabber, who would have thought them being twins?

Hope you enjoy!

Autobots and Decepticons reaction to Starscreams Twin brother with the same personality as SG! Starscream

SFW, familial, platonic, slight mention of injury but nothing graphic or detailed, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFA

No one knows how this happened. It is one of the greatest mysteries unknown to Cybertron. How can the most loyal member of the Decepticon ranks, almost at par with Lugnut levels of loyalty, be related (much less twin) to the most backstabbing and whiny Second in command of its army? How could this soldier of the greatest armies in the galaxy be so found of science and organics?

Optimus Prime

When they first met, Prime thought that Buddy might have been another Starscream clone right off the bat. But it isn’t until he sees some kibble differences and overall different aura, that he realizes that that mech is no clone.

“You’re not Starscream! Who are you?”--Optimus

“Wow! First, that axe is very strong. What type of alloy is it made of? Getting off topic, my name is Buddy. A proud Decepticon under Megatron’s alligence.”--Buddy

“Are you some sort of clone like the others?”--Optimus

“Nope. Completely original. I get that I look like Starscream a lot actually. But there’s so many differences!”--Buddy

“oh, well—”--Optimus

“Not to mention being his Spark twin can really work up your circuits you know?”--Buddy

“…What?”--Optimus

Prime literally stops fighting for a good couple of seconds after hearing this. Buddy takes this opportunity and flies away. Optimus remembers reading on some Decepticon files back at the academy and through his ‘history videos’.

Buddy lets the Prime go to go see off.

Prime is even more confused the next time he sees Buddy actively fighting alongside Megatron and making a good team?

He has never seen Starscream fight alongside him like that, and he is second in command. Optimus almost admires Buddy’s loyalty and admiration to Megatron whenever some bot talks ill of the Warlord.

When the Prime and Buddy have the next fight one-on-one He does give an effort to try and persuade Buddy to join the Autobots side.

“You know it’s a shame that you fight for the Decepticons, Buddy.”--Optimus

“Oh, is it little Prime?”--Buddy

“Yes, --WOW!— Which is why I’m offering you a spot with the Autobots!”--Optimus

“Well now this is weird then.”--Buddy

“Why is—Watch it!—Weird?”--Optimus

“Because I was going to offer you a spot in our ranks too!”--Buddy

“…Huh?”--Optimus

“Oh boy, Hey Autobots! I think I broke your leader!”--Buddy

Ratchet

Oh, they have met before.

It was a few missions before the Lockdown incident back in the final days of the war.

He had been helping a wounded bot when he was suddenly face to face with a blaster. It would have gone off if Buddy had not interfered.

“Die Autobot scum!”—Random Decepticon

“Hey!”--Buddy

“Commander Buddy?!”—Random Decepticon

“Do you see this mech? This is a medic! We do not shoot medics with the wounded!”--Buddy

“But sir he is an Auto—”—Random Decepticon

“I do not care which side he is on! No one shoots the medics! Do you understand me!”--Buddy

“Yes sir!”—Random Decepticon

“Good. I will deal with this. Get back to base for regroup.”--Buddy

“Yes Comander.”—Random Decepticon

“…”--Ratchet

“I know you don’t trust me. But trust this one thing. Run.”--Buddy

Ratchet hadn’t seen or heard of that Decepticon since that day. When they meet again it was almost as if history repeated itself. Lugnut was about to detonate his bomb when Buddy held his arm back.

“Buddy!?”--Lugnut

“Lugnut! Megatron needs—”--Buddy

Zooom!

“We have to stop meeting like this doctor.”--Buddy

“What made you stop him this time?”—Ratchet

Straight to the point I see.”--Buddy

“You could have killed me and the kid. Why didn’t you do it?”--Ratchet

“…The organic child you have… are they all right?”--Buddy

…Yes, she’s fine.”--Ratchet

“Good.”--Buddy

Ratchet has conflicted feelings now whenever he is on the battlefield with him. At least he knows now that Buddy has a soft spot for organic life forms.

Bumblebee

Oh, he does not care.

Like Optimus he first thinks that he is some Starscream clone.

Doesn’t really care that they aren’t.

He does stop when he is told that they are Starscreams twin brother.

But he quickly continues fighting.

If he is related to Starscream then he has to be just as bad as him, right?

“He is just some slimly Con like the rest of them! Maybe just as bad as Screamer.”--Bumblebee

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”--Ratchet

“What do you mean. If anything, you should be agreeing with me!”—Bumblebee

“He has saved my life before. Twice actually.”--Ratchet

“Excuse me what?”—Bumblebee

Bumblebee does feel a bit conflicted on hearing Ratchets stories on Buddy. He is a Decepticon… but they also saved Ratchets life twice!

He will still shoot at him but this time more for injury than anything else.

Sari

She has a mini vendetta against cons since they took her dad from her.

Jokes around with Bee calling them Lugnut 2.0.

But where are the conflicting feelings?

Here they are.

Takes time after Sari finds out she is a techno organic.

Sari had been caught in the crosshairs of Lugnuts servo and crashed on to the ground under a billboard. What she didn’t know was that the billboard had been damaged and was no falling. Her jetpack as damaged and she just froze in place.

“SARI!”—Optimus, Bumblebee, Bulkhead

“KID!”--Ratchet

“NO!”--Prowl

She could hear the shouts of her friends but the only thing she was focusing on was the falling billboard and debris that was coming closer and closer.

Buddy who had seen the damage shrieked and flew over to the girl and used his body to shield her from the billboard and debris effectively covering them both. Sari remembered hearing a shriek and a couple of servos pulling her to the bot’s chassis all she could do was close her eyes. When she opened them again, she was face to face with Buddy.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”--Buddy

“What? Yeah, I’m okay I think.”--Sari

“Oh, that’s a relief.”--Buddy

“Why did you do that?”--Sari

“You have no part in our war. I refuse to have anyone civilian deaths that are not necessary.”--Buddy

“But you’re a Decepticon?”--Sari

“Just because I’m a Decepticon does not mean I hate organic life like my twin or companions.”--Buddy

“Oh, yeah Starscream’s your twin, right?”--Sari

“Exactly young one.”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”--Starscream

“Oh, I think that our rescuers.”--Buddy

A dozen servos suddenly shout out pulling and yanking the debris from off Buddy. Sari was still in his grasp protectively shielding her from any harm. When Buddy came out, he was almost knocked down by Starscream’s hug.

“OH, THANK PRIMUS! BUDDY! HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A DUMB—OH PRIMUS YOU’RE HURT! LUGNUT GRAB HIM WE ARE GETTING OUT OF HERE!”—Starscream

“Screamy, hold on—”--Buddy

“FOR THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS LEADER MEGATRON!”--Lugnut

“Prime! Catch!”--Buddy

Buddy tossed Sari to Optimus as he was literally picked up and flown away for repairs. The team crowded around Sari trying to see if any damage was done. Not a single scratch was on her head.

Buddy was the one who took the damage.

She now thinks very differently of the Con.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead’s interaction with Buddy was under peculiar circumstances.

Bulkhead was battling it out with Scrapper, Mixmaster, and Dirt Boss when Buddy had arrived. Buddy looked like he was out for blood. Bulkhead thought it was for him and got ready to clobber the new Decepticons.

“Dirt Boss! Mix Master! Scrapper! Where are you?!”--Buddy

“Umm… hi?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, an Autobot. Don’t worry I’m not here for you.”--Buddy

To his surprise, Buddy went after the Constructicon’s instead.

As it turned out, Dirt Boss had Mix Master and Scrapper mess with Starscream’s wings because ‘he was too loud’.

“You, Autobot. What’s your designation?”--Buddy

“My name is Bulkhead.”--Bulkhead

“Good. Now Bulkhead, would you care to help me pound these dirty Con’s to the ground?”--Buddy

“But aren’t they on your same team?”--Bulkhead

“Oh, they were. But that changed the moment they decided to mess and hurt Starscream’s wings. So, you in or out?”—Buddy

“…”--Bulkhead

“We are just roughing them up a bit.”--Buddy

“I’m in!”—Bulkhead

Together the two of them punted the Con’s into Lake Erie.

“Wow. You really have the strength for this Bulkhead.”--Buddy

“Oh, thanks—”--Bulkhead

“I’m also sensing some untapped potential. That’s some potential that the Decepticons could use. What do you say Bulkhead?”--Buddy

“No thanks! I’m good being an Autobot.”--Bulkhead

“Well at least you’re polite. Until we meet again Bulkhead.”--Buddy

Buddy then transformed and flew into the night. Now Bulkhead really doesn’t want to hit him.

Prowl

Attacks Buddy straight on.

He is one of the smallest members on the team, besides Bumblebee. He sees something coming at him he is going to strike at it. Buddy actually had gotten a tip about Prowl over a conversation he heard from Swindle and Lockdown.

Buddy sees an opportunity. Having a bot with such incredible talents would certainly give the Decepticon’s an edge in this war.

“Hello there—Woah!”--Buddy

“That was a warning.”--Prowl

“I just came here to offer—”--Buddy

“The next one goes through your servo.”--Prowl

“Fine. I’ll come another day.”--Buddy

Prowl is dodging all these requests like the Draft.

Except this time, he is making sure he doesn’t get caught.

Megatron

Ah, yes, his favorite soldier.

“Megatron.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Megatron

“I have the equipment necessary for the next phase of the plan.”--Buddy

“Excellent. At least some bots here are doing their work. You are dismissed.”--Megatron

“Yes, sir.”—Buddy

Don’t tell Lugnut.

Not only does Buddy offer him just loyalty, but because he also treats him as a mech, not some deity. He tries not to hurt Starscream too much whenever he is around.

They don’t make loyal soldiers like they used to.

Is willing to overlook some of Buddy’s softer behaviors on the battlefield because he always brings in good results back.

Starscream

He loves his spark twin.

It might not seem like it at first. Afterall their personalities contradict themselves. But if you have been around them long enough you can see the undying loyalty between these two brothers.

“I hate you and your organic meddling. How can you even stand them?”--Starscream

“Love you too Screamy. And they are called humans. Only some of them are dirty, not all brother.”--Buddy

Starscream and Buddy are very protective of each other.

Which is one of the reasons why Starscreams punishments have gone down with Buddy being around. Buddy is just and fair, starscream is not. That’s why sometimes Buddy will not interfere with Megatrons punishements, because Starscream deserved it. But that doesn’t mean he is heartless.

He always patches up his brother after every punch shot or anything.

 

“You know, if you’d stop trying to over thrown our leader maybe then I wouldn’t have to pound out all the dents in your wings.”--Buddy

“You’ll be thanking me when I do become leader.”--Starscream

“Sure, Screamy keep telling yourself that.”--Buddy

Blitzwing

His personalities clash whenever he is around.

Icy prefers Buddy’s presence a lot more than Hothead. It’s one of the only other intelligent being he can talk to.

“Did you recalibrate you blasters yet?”--Icy

“Not yet. Which circuits did you use to hotwire Lugnuts?”--Buddy

“The red one.”—Icy

Hothead can’t stand him on some days claiming him to be going soft. Other times he will get mad at Buddy for getting hurt over meaningless things.

“If you hadn’t thought about going after that organic, I wouldn’t have to help haul you off to the Med bay!”--Hothead

“Is that right?”--Buddy

“I could be scouting outside right now. But no! You had to get hit by a billboard!”--Hothead

Random likes to play games with Buddy and make random sounds. He has a whole record on weird noises to play with Buddy.

Sesame Street theme song starts playing.

“IT’S BEEN 3 HOURS! TURN IT OFF!”--Starscream

Distant giggles

Buddy always vouches for him whenever someone makes a comment on his different personalities.

All three of them like that

Lugnut

If he is going anywhere were Blitzwing isn’t Buddy is his next pick.

He knows that buddy can be trusted with sensitive things concerning the all glorious leader Megatron.

“Buddy. I have an important message for Lord Megatron.”--Lugnut

“If it’s another poem about his greatness, I suggest you not take it to him today. He is having a bad day today.”--Buddy

“…Please?”--Lugnut

“… Give me the data pad.”--Buddy

He very much apprentice Buddy sticking up for him whenever someone’s comments make an unnecessary jab to his ‘obsession’.

Buddy has a lot of brownie points on Lugnut’s book.

Blackarchnia

Honestly one of her only friends in the ranks is Buddy.

Since she came to the Decepticon side later not many were found of her and her organic mold. Buddy was the first besides Megatron to greet her with open arms.

Not even Lugnut got there fast.

“Welcome Blackarchnia, to the Decepticons.”--Buddy

“…”--Blackarachnia

“I know it may be a lot to take in, so I will be here to help to make sure you understand the ropes around here.”--Buddy

“…Thank you…”--Blackarachnia

She does spill her secret about being Elita-One, one night in a secluded area. She thought that Buddy would shoot her right them and there. But Buddy instead held her as she started sobbing.

Now that doesn’t mean that Buddy is okay with how she is treating this whole situation with Sentinel and Optimus, Buddy being the scientist he is has tried to help Blackarchnia with her situation. But no matter how much he has tried to explain toher that this would kill her, he tries to be as supportive as he can about her organic half.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Warrior's Wrath - Part 1

Source for pic

Word Count: 6644

Tags: Medieval Scotland AU; Highlander Kid; Blurry non-con; Angst without happy ending; Fluff and angst; have I mentioned ANGST? soft Kid; feral Kid; Blood and gore; Killer might have a crush on reader (didn’t notice I did this until I was editing); MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You and Kid, the fiercest worry of your village, get married and happiness is just within your reach. Until Blackbeard, the laird, comes to claim prima nocta and takes you. Somehow, you are able to placate Kid’s anger before you go, yet, when you return filled with marks and bruises, Kid can no longer be controlled.

Notes: Highlander Kid lives rent free in my head and I can’t help it. This one got away from me, though. I meant it to be around 5 or 6k words, it turned out to be almost 13k. Historical note, there’s no concrete historical evidence to support the existence of prima nocte, but this story was heavily inspired by Braveheart - God, I love this movie. I do hope you enjoy it! I’m so sorry for breaking your heart again. I thrive on angst! 

PS: Decided to compromise and split this into two parts but posted at the same time!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane

MASTERLIST

|Part 2|

The forest whizzed past you as you raced, your heart thumping loudly against your aching chest, blood flowing so fast and so hard that you could feel it rushing through your ears. Small, insignificant cuts from sharp branches marked your face and forearms, but you did not let that slow you down. 

You were being chased. 

You could hear heavy footsteps approaching fast. Faster than any man of his size should possibly be able to run. Branches cracked loudly under the weight of his heavy feet and you could almost feel the vibration from his growls and grunts. 

There was no use in hiding. Running was your only option. Yet, you were growing tired, and careless. 

Tripping on a tree root made you tumble and roll over twice before you stopped with a whine and a wince. Your head spun for a moment and the greens of the leaves mixed with the grey of the sky and the whites of the wisps of fog. Other than a bloodied lip and a bruised knee, you were fine, so you quickly got to your feet, ready to start racing again. 

You barely took a step forward before a large hand, almost the size of your head, wrapped around your neck and pushed you with your back against the tree. A muffled yelp escaped your lips as your back collided with the harsh bark of the birch tree and you were pretty sure the white of the bark would be stained with your blood. 

“Caught ya, lass.” He growled, red lips curling back to reveal a terrifying grin that turned your knees to jelly. “Almost outdid me this time.” A thin line of sweat coated his hairline, turning the red of his flaming hair into a darker shade. 

Your own lips curled back and you could taste blood on them from your fall. “I don't think I'm getting faster, it's you who are getting slower and sloppier. Maybe you should stop eating so much pottage.”

His laughter came out in a hearty roar as he threw his head back, shoulders heaving and fingers loosening around your neck. You took the opportunity to elbow him in the side of his belly and escape from under his arm with a quick movement. 

Yet he reacted quickly and spun, lacing his arm around your waist and holding your back against his broad chest. “Clever lass.” He snarled against your ear, hot breath bristling all the hairs on your body. “Not fast enough, though.” With another grunt he pushed you back against the tree, chest bumping against the trunk, this time and, using his weight to keep you in place, his one hand wrestled with lifting up your dress. 

His thick fingers found you already wet and wanting, slick dripping on your thighs, and he growled against your nape, teeth nipping your flesh and leaving pinkish indents behind. “This wet already? The run’s got ya hot and bothered, lass?”

You hummed as an answer as your digits found purchase against the tree, reading yourself for what was coming, heat already pooling and gathering in your belly, your core throbbing with desire. 

He pushed a finger inside you and pressed. A small moan left your parted lips and he inserted another one. The thickness of his fingers made you feel stuffed and full and you mewled, eyes rolling back and your nails sunk into the bark. “More.” Arching your back and sticking out your butt, you whined, knowing he wouldn't resist your begging. 

Sharp teeth sank on your shoulder as your head snapped back against his chest and he inserted a third finger, making you roll your hips and open your mouth. “Kid!” 

“Beg, lass. Beg for me.” The vibrato of his low voice made you throb and pant, heart racing in an unholy rhythm, eyes already trembling and starting to see white. 

“Please, please, Kid.”

“Please what, lass?” Yet you didn't know what you wanted. Release from his fingers, or to feel his big, veiny cock inside of you? 

“Please!” You just begged, hoping he would read you and realise what you wanted, because your thoughts were already mush and you were lost in a high of pleasure. And he didn't disappoint you. Rolling his slicked fingers against your clit sent you over and you gasped as a deep crescendo of moans followed it. Kid did not wait for you to come down as he lifted his kilt and sunk his length into you, bottoming out immediately. 

Your moan turned into a sharp cry as he joined you and he shoved his fingers in your mouth. “Hush, lass. Ya never know what is lurking in these woods. Now, lick my fingers until they're clean.”

You mewled and hummed as your hot tongue sucked and licked around his thick fingers, tasting yourself and finding the gesture so deeply arousing that you rolled your hips against him, which earned you a harsh bite on the back of the neck. 

“Steady, lass. Ya can't move until ya lick every drop.” He meant it and you knew it. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his chest muscles taut against your back, rippling and coiling, ready to thrust and pound. But where he was short tempered with mundane affairs, with sex he was as patient as it got. He could wear you as a cocksleeve for as long as he wanted and he knew you would break first. Whining, begging and crying for him to move. So you did your best to lick every single drop of your juices from his digits. 

“That's a good lass.” He murmured appreciatively against your ear, his hand wrapping your jaw and turning your face back to meet his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Tongue sweeping the blood on your lips with the hunger of a starved man before his hand descended, gripping your breast firmly, then wrapped around your stomach and he finally started to move. 

A single thrust got you moaning into his mouth, nails scraping against the bark of the tree, limbs writhing as you tried to ground yourself. He pulled back, almost all the way out and pounded harder this time. Parting your lips, you filled the air with a cry followed by his name, cunt throbbing against his cock, your release just within grasp. 

“Harder.” You barely articulated, eyes shut and hand dropping low, finding your needy nub and pressing hard. “Kid!”

“Yar a desperate lil’ lass aren't ya?” His growls and grunts vibrating against your skin told you he was almost coming. His hand pressed against your stomach, pushing into his bulge and you panted and moaned, a litany or a prayer to gods both known and unknown leaving your open lips. Arms hugging the tree for support as Kid pounded relentlessly. Sloppy, uneven pounds, as he was on the brink of filling you up. “Tell me how desperate ya are?”

But you couldn't tell him, because his next deep thrust sent you on a spiral and you lost touch with reality, falling into the throes of pleasure. Eyes flashing white and legs trembling. Kid followed you right behind, spilling his seed and filling your insides, both of you left panting and gasping for air. 

He pulled out with a grunt and you whined from feeling empty all of a sudden, knees falling down into the damp earth, chest still heaving. Kid sat down next to you, his hand cradled your cheek as he laid a sweet kiss upon your bruised lips. He moved softly now, a gentle caress with his tongue before parting, leaving his forehead connected to yours for a moment, until you were both breathing in tandem, small smiles of bliss on your mouths. 

“Marry me, lass.” He asked for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“We've been through this, Kid.”

“I want to make ya an honest woman.” He pulled back to stare into your eyes and you could see the hints of mischievousness in his orange gaze. 

“That's not possible anymore, I'm afraid.” A chuckle left your lips and you dragged your fingers through his flaming red hair. 

“I still want to marry ya. Do ya want a band? I can make ya a ring out of anything!” You kept chuckling as he started to count with his fingers: “Gold is harder to get, but I can get tin, or bronze. Maybe wood? I can craft something with resin, a flower in the middle. I know ya like primroses.”

Pressing your lips against his as you climbed his legs and straddled his lap managed to shut him up effectively. 

“Aye.” A blush accompanied your whisper as you parted your lips. 

“Aye? To the band? Which one?” He asked as he adjusted himself with your entry, already hard and ready to go again. 

“Aye to the marriage, you fool.”

-*-

The village had been restless for a few weeks. The clan's laird had died and the son had inherited the title. Not everyone on the council agreed to have the infamous Blackbeard Teach as the new laird, but he had threatened to get the votes and secured the position. 

He raised the feudal dues immediately. 

However, your marriage was happening and you could not be happier. Kid had been courting you in his gruff way for a while. Leaving handmade trinkets on your door: little wooden figurines of animals and flowers; grunting and acting jealous at whatever man dared touch you in a more intimate manner at the village dances and festivities; wanting to lay his claim on you, but knowing he had no right because you hadn't yet expressed your desire for him. 

Until you did. Until you pulled him by the hand to a secluded location during a bonfire dance, and you gave yourself to him for the first time. 

And every time moving forward, he had asked you to be his wife. You thought he had only done that because he felt guilty about deflowering you. Turned out it wasn't the case at all. Kid, the fiercest warrior of your village was in love with you. And that thought filled you with happiness. 

Thinking back, you don't quite know why you kept telling him no. Maybe you wanted him to fight for you? Or maybe you wanted to be sure of his feelings towards you? Whatever it was, it is a feeling of the past. You were deeply, madly, desperately in love with Eustass Kid. 

And both your smiles said it all. 

-*-

The day had dawned like many others in the unforgiving Highlands. Dense and thick wisps of fog hovered over the mountains, little droplets of dew freshening your face, forcing you to wake up. But the dim sunlight appeared shyly behind the mist and you were positive the sun would grace your wedding day. 

Your best dress was not new, but it was not muddied or torn and the dark green paired perfectly with the red of your soon-to-be husband's hair. Your friend, Quincy made you a headdress of flowers: white heather and clovers for good luck, primroses and daisies because they were your favourite flowers, meadowsweet to fill in the gaps and finely woven into the headdress, ropes of ivy to symbolise fidelity and eternity. 

You couldn't stop smiling.

There was a makeshift altar draped with a cloth and adorned with garlands of ivy and wildflowers, set in the centre of the sacred stone circle in the forest. Kid and the druid of your community were already gathered at the front. Friends and family sat on rocks and on the ground to witness your union. Your eyes filled with tenderness when you reached Kid’s side. He seemed anxious and you had never seen such a distraught expression on his face before. Your smile helped, though, and he relaxed with a low grunt. 

After a few words to call upon the old gods, the druid tied a cord of woven wool around both of your hands. The soft sound of the piper filled the air, lending the words of the druid a sense of serenity and etherealness, blessing your union with love. When both your hands were bound Kid looked you in the eyes, his imposing figure standing much taller than your own and he said his vows. 

“I pledge my heart to you,” your name came out with a raspy sound and he cleared his throat to continue. “To share in your dreams and to walk beside you through all the paths of life.”

Squeezing his hand, you took a deep, shaky breath. “I pledge my heart to you, Eustass Kid, to share in your joys and to stand by you through all the challenges we face.”

The druid continued to interlace your hands with the wool in an intricate figure-of-eight to symbolise infinity. His lips chanted a beautiful melody, a litany to the old gods. 

Kid’s lip shook slightly. “I, Eustass Kid, take you as my partner for life. By the earth that sustains us and the sky that watches over us, I promise to honour and protect you, always.”

Visibly emotional, you said your name and continued. “I take you as my partner for life. By the fire that warms us and the water that cleanses us, I promise to cherish and stand by you, always.”

You shared ale, drunk from the quaich cup, to represent your joining of families, Kid placed the wood and resin band on your finger, pulling a sweet laugh from your lips, and the druid continued. 

“By the power vested in me by ancient traditions, I pronounce you husband and wife. May your love be as enduring as the mountains, as deep as the lochs and as eternal as the stars. You may share your first kiss as a wedded couple. May your journey be blessed with joy.”

The piper started a happy jig, the crowd cheered loudly, Killer, Kid's best friend proclaimed loudly that he was very proud of his found brother because he had no faith in him memorising his vows and he had proved him wrong. 

You and Kid pressed your lips together in a slow, tender kiss, as he wrapped his arm around you and lifted you easily, so he didn't have to bend down to deepen the kiss. The kiss broke but your foreheads pressed together. “You and me, Kid.”

“Me and ya, lass.”

“I love you forever…” You started. 

“And always.” He finished. 

These vows were meant only for your ears. They were private, personal and meant everything. 

-*-

The party had been moved to the village where tables of food and ale had been set up. Children ran around, screaming and laughing, chasing Heat, one of Kid's closest friends, who laced a garland of ivy around his hair for them to try and grab. Yet every time one of the children came close, Heat jumped and they squealed in pleasure and mirth. 

The piper had been joined by a fiddler, a drummer and a flautist, performing jigs and ballads for everyone's enjoyment. Now and then, a friend joined them to sing a few songs. You and Kid spent your time receiving the well-wishes of your friends and dancing. 

Killer had pulled you into a lively reel, the drummer banging the stretched sheep skin with vigour, making you bounce and laugh as sweat poured from your temples. Your legs nearly gave out from the laughter and exertion and he had to pull you up by the arms to keep you from falling to the ground. Kid appeared to save you and you laughed harder as Killer grabbed Kid's hands and started to dance the reel with him. 

It was the happiest day of your life. 

Before the song ended, however, the sound of a loud trumpet being played - a small fanfare to gather attention - made everyone present turn towards the sound. A retinue of horses with guards came marching down the hill. Blackbeard, the laird, travelling in the middle, using a horse as black as night, a mighty stallion with an imposing trot. 

“What does he want?” Killer muttered to Kid, who had turned his grin into a grimace the moment the fanfare started to play. Heat and Wire ran to their side, passing them their weapons and you stiffened. 

“Your axe, Kid, really?”

Kid grumbled and pushed you behind him in a protective stance. 

“My, my, my. A wedding!” Blackbeard grinned and clapped his hands while looking around. “Beannaichte ur pòsadh. Blessed be your marriage.” The people of the community whispered and stared, an uneasiness in the air that you couldn't quite place, though it was clear that the new laird was disliked and if it was clear to you, it was crystal-clear to him. 

“You're the groom?” He nodded towards Kid as his men scattered around the people in an imposing manner. The scowls on Kid’s face and those of his men deepened. 

“Aye.” Kid's dark red kilt was secured with wildflowers - primroses - so it was easy to tell. 

“May I meet the lovely bride?” The saccharine sweetness of his voice almost made you nauseous and Kid grunted, opening his mouth to bark a resounding no, but you didn't want him to cause any trouble, so you stepped from behind him. 

“Good to meet you, my laird.” You said, meeting his dark gaze. Kid's arm pulled you to him as his fingers pressed into your skin possessively. 

Blackbeard hummed appreciatively as his eyes raked over your body and Kid growled. “Well, I have come to let you all know that there is a new marriage fee you must pay your clan chieftain - me - and it is effective immediately.” He barked a ridiculous amount at Kid and you gasped. 

“We don't have that kind of money! Nor do we have goods to cover it.”

“We just paid yer raised fees, not two days ago! There's not enough time to make more money yet.” Kid said while your friends and family agreed. 

The laird’s laughter started low. A rumble coming from his belly and then emerging in waves from his mouth, leaving spit on his coarse beard. 

“That's your problem, lads.” He cackled as Kid’s hand gripped the axe’s handle and you gasped, lacing your arm in his, trying to prevent him from acting irrationally. “Yet, I am merciful and lenient. I am willing to forget the fees, this time.”

You sighed in relief, a tired smile forming on your lips, but Kid sensed something was wrong as he became as stiff as a board. 

“I will instead reinstate my right to prima nocta - first night - with your lovely bride, here.” Your breath caught in your throat, a shiver raising the hairs on your body. There was a lightness in your head that almost made you dizzy, yet you had no time to worry about yourself as Kid was already readying his battle axe, fire burning in his eyes. 

“No, no! Kid, stop! Kill, help!” You turned to Killer, who grabbed his arm to hold him back, and then Heat placed another arm on Kid’s chest to stop him from advancing. 

The laird’s rumbling laugh had turned into a taunting cackle. “Why are you so angry, young lad? It's just one night. She will be all yours again tomorrow. I'll just have her this once.”

Why was he taunting Kid? 

“Kid, look at me!” You pleaded, arms stretched so you could hold his face, trying to get him to look at you, but he was undeterred. 

“Like fuck ya will! Over my dead body and burned bones! And even then, I'll haunt yer arse!” Kid’s voice was dangerously low, a vicious snarl in his tone as he kept pacing, dragging both Killer and Heat, his muscles flexing and veins popping. 

“Stop, Kid, stop!” You urged as the laird’s men dismounted their horses and you knew that if Kid attacked him, he would be killed for treason. 

“Wire!” Killer called and the tallest of Kid's friends wrapped his elbow around Kid's neck and pulled hard, slowing his approach. 

“Impressive display. Lass, come.” Blackbeard said as his men approached you and Kid roared, Killer being dragged as he tried to raise his axe. 

“Wait!” You screamed, shoving one of the guards and placing yourself in front of Kid, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. At this moment you were fearful for him and for what he would do, not for what awaited you. “Kid, Kid!” You urged. “My love…”

Your sob made his gaze waver and he stopped, looking down at your figure, his face distorted with rage and pain. 

“Let him go.” You whispered to his friends and they heeded you, though they stood close, apprehension written on their faces. Clutching the strap of his kilt and pulling him down, your fingers dug into his chest. 

“Kid… I'll be alright. I promise. I'm strong. It's okay.” You kept trying to pull his face to you, but his eyes kept darting towards the laird and flashing with anger. “Hold me, please.” Another sob left your parted lips and, with a heavy sigh and a grunt, Kid dropped his axe, his arm enveloping you and lifting you up.

Pressing your foreheads together, you cupped his face in your hands. “It's you and me, Kid.”

He shook his head. “No, no. I won't let this happen! He can't do this, I'll have his head on a spike!” His roar made his chest tremble and you settled one of your hands above his heart. 

“This is happening, Kid. We can't do anything to stop it.”

“I can slice him in two!” He spat the angry words between his teeth. 

“You won't. I won't lose you. It's just one night. I’ve got this.” Kid continued to grumble and you could sense rage and anger spewing out of him in hot waves. “You will not think about me tonight. You can't do that.”

His pained wail told you that it was exactly what he was thinking about. About another man's hands on you, another man's lips. And you knew how jealous and possessive he could be and how this would drive him insane. So you pressed your lips against his, tethering him back to reality, to you. 

“It's you and me, Kid.”

He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, his hand gripping your waist so hard that you knew he would leave marks and bruises. 

“Kid… say it. It's you and me!” You whined, tears streaming down your face. 

“It… It’s me and ya, lass…” 

His voice was barely audible, but you took whatever he gave you. 

“I love you forever…”

Kid's silence nearly broke you as you saw him stifle a sob. You could sense him tensing his muscles to stop from heaving and you knew for sure that once you left he would be breaking a lot of things. 

“Kid…”

“And always…” He finished. 

You nodded, shaking your head to drive away the wetness of your tears. Then you circled your arms around his neck, losing yourself in his kiss, turning sorrow into promises of a brighter tomorrow and the beginning of your lives together, with the possibility of leaving this hindrance behind. 

He set you down again, and without taking your eyes off his gaze, you made a plea. “Kill, Heat, Wire, please, please, don't let him do anything rash.” The snarl that left Kid's mouth was a warning. Either to the laird and his men, or to his own men. He should be left alone for the remainder of the night. 

Inhaling deeply you gave him another peck on the lips and turned to walk away from him. But his hand grasped your wrist firmly, fingers clenching, tighter and tighter in a fierce grip. He did not want to let you go. You knew deep down that this man, your husband, would rather die than let you go. “Kid,” you pleaded. “I want to have a life with you, you cannot get yourself killed today. I vowed my lifetime to you. You vowed the same. Fulfil it.”

Lacing your tone with authority you did not have and courage you did not possess, you hoped that tugging at his heartstrings could do the trick. 

Your wrist hung loosely after he opened his hand and you walked towards the laird’s horse, without sharing another glance with your husband, for you knew if you looked into those raging orange eyes, you would not be able to leave him behind, and he would die protecting you. 

A guard hoisted you onto his horse and, as you were leaving the village, your heart ached with the rage-filled roar that filled the air, turning sleeping birds into a frenzy and shaking the very leaves of the trees. 

-*-

You were intent on distancing yourself from the moment when the laird took you. You focused on your wedding, on your husband, on the moments you shared with Kid and on your future. Especially your future. 

How cute would it be if there were a tiny baby with flaming red hair on your husband's very large shoulders? Or a beautiful little girl, swearing as loudly as Kid, but as beautiful as you?

These were the thoughts you meant to focus on when the time arrived. And this anticipation was driving you crazy. The laird had sent you dinner but you barely ate. You just wanted to get this over with. So you could go back to Kid. 

How broken he must be feeling now. You could barely imagine his hurt and pain.

Suddenly the door to the chamber they had placed you in opened and Blackbeard came forward, clad in only a linen tunic, his sickly grin in place, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Ah, there you are lass.”

Gritting your teeth you held back a snarky reply. Where else were you supposed to be if not here? Perhaps by your husband's side, as you were meant to be? 

He sat on the bed and patted the place next to him softly, but you stayed near the window, where you had been staring before he arrived. You wondered if Kid was watching the same sky as you or if he was simply staring at the bottom of a mug, ale filling his belly. 

“Sit, lass.” He commanded. You had the urge to ignore his order, to rebel against him as you and Kid could not in the village. Yet, you didn't want to make things harder on yourself, so you took two strides and sat further from him than he intended. 

“You are a very pretty little thing.” approaching, he placed his stumpy fingers on your leg. The laird started to crumple the dress in them, making it ride up, and you closed your eyes. It was about to start. You prayed to the old gods and the new that he would be fast and get this over with. So you could go home. 

To your home. 

To Kid. 

Thinking about your husband brought out a sob and a heave and you could barely contain the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You could bet he was feeling devastated by now, just willing the night to pass so he could see you again. 

The laird misinterpreted your tears. He chuckled softly and started to coo at you, his heavy hand tracing circles on your back in what was meant to be a soothing motion. “Hush, little lass, all is well. I will be very gentle with you. A sweet little thing, being touched for the first time…”

You snorted as a mocking laugh escaped your lips without your permission. You were too consumed by your own pain to stop it and now it was too late. 

“Something funny?” The soothing motions stopped abruptly. Yes, something was funny. Touched for the first time? Gentle? You just wanted to cackle in his face like a wild banshee. 

“No, my laird.” You said humbly, though, but he didn't buy your innocent act. 

“You don't want me to be gentle? Or is it not your first time?” Your eyes remained fixed on the floor. There was a crack in it, a big one. 

“Yes, my laird. I want you to be gentle.” You could not confess that it was your first time, as you would not bleed, and he would be able to tell. 

“Yet it is not your first time? Little whore.” He grumbled as he pushed you by the shoulders and you fell onto the bed. “I'll give you something to play with, then.” His whole demeanour changed and you realised he had been excited by the fact that you were a virgin, now that he knew you were not, it seemed as if he was turned off. 

He removed his tunic and barked at you to move to the centre of the bed, which you did. All the while repeating in your head that it would soon be over. 

Soon. 

Soon. 

“Take off your clothes, whore.” You started to undo the straps of your dress, but he did not have the patience to wait. He reached over and, with both hands, ripped your beautiful wedding dress to pieces. 

“No! My dress!” You whined. You had meant to cherish it, perhaps pass it on to a child someday in the future. Yet now it was unsalvageable. He couldn't care less about your protests as he did the same to your chemise. The lump in your throat made it hurt and burn as you kept your sobs trapped, not willing to give him the satisfaction of your misery. 

“Poor whore. I'll make you forget your dress and your husband!” He then removed his undergarments, revealing his hard cock for you to behold. This time you did not stop the cackle that bubbled up your throat. You felt hurt and dejected and could no longer contain your fiery nature. 

“You'll have no chance to make me forget my husband with that tiny little thing, my laird.” The curl of your lip was quickly erased as he slapped your face with the back of his hand, making you gasp and taste blood from biting your tongue. 

“You'll learn your manners, whore, and when I return you to your husband, you'll be a submissive little bitch. He'll thank me in the end.”

There went your chance to have this night pass by quickly. You had made the laird mad, and now you were going to pay dearly for it. You should've just kept your mouth shut. But you had to be stubborn and wild. All the qualities your husband loved about you. 

This time you made no effort to hide the tears, though it was very hard to focus your thoughts elsewhere. The laird did not strike your face again, yet he left markings all over your body. Bruises, bites, scratches and even some cuts. It wasn't the pain that was making you cry. Not even when he took you by force after inflicting all that pain. It was the fact that you knew Kid would be devastated when he saw you. And you could not hide these bruises from him. 

He would demand blood. 

And you feared that his would be the one to be spilled. 

-*-

The laird had spent the entire night with you. You were lucky he barely had the stamina to get his cock up twice, but he continued your physical abuse in other painful ways. You would be scarred. Mind and body, and he had made sure of that. Just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut and told him he had a small dick. 

You had been dumped outside the keep with a tunic and your shredded clothes. No one took you back to the village so you were left to walk the distance that separated it. Luckily, it wasn't that far and you reached it before mid-morning. Your whole body ached and you craved to cleanse yourself by the lake, letting it soak and soothe in the icy-cold waters. 

But you needed to go to Kid, first. And that thought was making you both miserable and excited. 

You entered through the south side of the village, hoping to find Killer first - since he was usually stationed there - and you breathed a relieved sigh when you saw his golden mane in the distance. 

“Kill!” You urged with a whisper. He, a trained warrior, heard you immediately and rushed to meet you. 

“You're not on a horse? You came on foo-... What the fuck is that on your face?” His voice dropped dangerously low, and you flinched. If this was Killer's reaction to the bruise on your jaw, how would your husband react? 

“Kill…” You urged again, your filthy hands grasping at his, fear in your gaze and desperate pleas leaving your mouth. “Kill, please I need your help. You need to sedate Kid. Use nightshade in his ale, or the red-capped mushroom. Kill! Please.”

“That's not the only bruise, is it?” You could practically sense the murderous vibes seething through his body. Of course he would guess why you wanted to sedate and placate Kid. 

So you shook your head, confirming his fears. 

“Fucker!” He growled and you flinched again, your nails still digging into his hands. 

“Killer.” You begged, tears in your eyes and a grimace turning your lips down. “If he's reactive when he sees me… Kill, he'll want to hunt for blood. And the laird will kill him!” Sobs climbed up your throat in ragged breaths. “I can't lose him! I can't! I refuse.”

Killer sighed as he wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you into his embrace, his face brushing against your hair. You winced at the touch because you were very sensitive due to some bruises, but it was comforting and you cried into his chest. 

“I'll go do it.” Killer sighed and patted your hair softly. “We can sedate him as much as you want, but he's still going to kill the bastard. You can't sedate him forever.”

A glimmer of hard resolution made your eyes shine. “Just watch me, then.” Even if you had to spike every meal your husband had until his rage receded, you would do it. You would stop him from getting himself killed. 

You just couldn't lose him. 

-*-

Kill made good on his promise and after a while he came back saying that Kid was sleeping heavily on your shared bed. The bed you hadn't yet shared, actually. 

You thanked Kill when he brought you a dress and decided, since Kid was fast asleep, to take a quick dip in the lake to scrub off most of the dirt and dried blood. Maybe the coolness of the lake would also help soothe some of the worst bruises. 

It didn't. 

Yet you were now cleaner and more presentable and Kid was probably still asleep, so you trekked home, trying to avoid most of the people because you simply didn't want to either answer questions or endure their pity. You made a quick stop by your garden, harvested a handful of yarrow and another of knitbone, and sped through the door. 

As soon as you entered your home, you were overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. You could hear Kid’s loud snores, his axe was by the mantle, your herbs and vegetables tucked neatly in the kitchen, and the musky scent of your husband’s sweat from the tunic draped across one of the chairs, almost brought tears to your eyes. 

But you shook your head and with it the feelings too. You still had some things to do before Kid started to rouse and you had to get to it. Opening jars that were lined up perfectly across the mantle, you found the one you were looking for: honey. Then, quickly, you chopped the leaves from the knitbone and crushed the yarrow into a bowl and added the honey to create a sticky poultice which you applied to your bruises and cuts, hoping against all hope that it would accelerate the healing. Most of the bruises were covered by your dress, but there was nothing that could be done about the one on your face. 

So, you covered the rest of the mixture for later use and went about staging your wonderful performance: you turned a chair upside down and broke a leg for good measure, then threw the wooden bowls and dishes to the floor to make a ruckus and break some, faking a loud wail and sprawling on the floor as if you had fallen from the chair. 

Kid drowsily blinked his eyes as he stirred in bed. As soon as his foggy eyes fixed on yours, he rose, placed his hand on his forehead and slumped back down again.

“Lass! Fucking headache!” He cursed loudly as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. “Yar back! Fucking arse! I should not have drunk this much. For fuck’s sake.”

He finally got up as you hissed and pretended to be hurt in places where you knew you already had bruises, and when he knelt next to you, it was with a loud thump of his knees and a string of curses. 

“Ya fell?” He asked as he looked you over, eyes still very glassed over as he blinked to try to regain his focus. You kept trying to turn your head so he couldn't see the bruise. 

“I did. But I'm fine. I might bruise, though. It hurt.” You winced as you pressed your hands over your chest. 

“What's this?” His palm pressed against the bruise on your face and you clenched your teeth at the small pressure. 

“Oh, I hit my face on the floor.” You said with a shrug, setting your hand over his to reassure him. 

“Lass, yar lying. This bruise is purple already. It wasn't made just now.”

His voice was laced with worry, anger, curiosity and a hint of protectiveness. So you needed to steer him away from it. Fast. 

Wincing, you sat on his knees, legs apart as you took his face in your hands. Pressing your forehead against his, you smiled softly. “I missed you, my love. So, so much.”

He tried to stay angry at you, to keep the scowl on his face and you were sure he still wanted to press you about the bruise on your face. But it was a sigh that met your ears, a deep relieved sigh as his hand climbed from your waist to your neck. His fingers entwined with your hair as he pulled you to him in a kiss full of longing and yearning. 

You ignored the pain in your bruised jaw as your lips parted to allow him entry. You brushed away the wince you meant to utter as Kid’s fingers tugged your hair a little harder, your scalp still too tender and sore from the laird’s rough handling. 

But you could not ignore the way Kid's love and hunger were making your heart melt and heat pool in your abdomen. What you also couldn’t ignore, was the fact that he wanted you now. And that couldn’t happen because he would see all the bruises. 

“My love,” You said, parting with the kiss. “I really hurt myself when I fell. I'm going to apply some poultice I was making to my knees and chest and we'll continue this later.” You pecked his nose with your lips and got up, leaving him no choice but to watch you go, a slight pout on his lips. 

It was a great fortune that he was still heavily drugged and relaxed, or he would've noticed something wasn't right as you never refused him. He mumbled some annoyed words and lay back on your shared bed, restarting his snoring immediately. 

You could do this. He would be fine. You would be fine. Everything would be fine. 

|Part 2|

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death

A Deimos x f!reader Series

Chapter 1

Word count: 5k

Part: 2

OG A/N: Hey, hi! So, tomorrow is my birthday. And for my birthday I decided to write a hugely self indulgent smutty fic for myself and instead of writing one for cod like I’ve been doing and contributing to an already super saturated fandom I have decided to write it for my r6s fandom, which admittedly keeps looking deader and deader, but I know that if I’m scouring the tags for fics then maybe someone else is too and so I’m gonna share my gift to myself in hopes that someone else who’s desperate for content will find it and be glad it’s there.

Second A/N: Hey! So I decided to make this a series actually. This will stand as chapter 1 💕

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Listen to me 👁️👁️ I need you to heed the tags. I am going to tag the hell out of this thing and if you don’t read the tags then you’re throwing yourself into a mixed bag of whatever the hell and that’s on you. The tags are there for your benefit. Not mine. You have been warned.

CW: non con elements, dub con elements, interrogation, belt spanking, bondage, unprotected climactic p in v intercourse, oral (f!receiving), abduction, hair pulling, fingering, death, blood, mild game spoilers 🤷‍♀️

This is the point of no return, you click this button and you consent to the content on the other side.

This takes place after Deimos has killed Harry but before Rainbow has captured him, if you give a shit about canon events and timeline. Enjoy 💕

The chilly night wind whipped through the leaves, rattling them noisily and aiding in concealing your stealthy movements. You and three other operatives cut through the wooded terrain like silent wraiths as you sought out the hidden compound due north, said to be home to his lair. The mission was simple, get in, extract Deimos and exfil.

You moved quickly and quietly bringing up the rear of the squad. Rifle locked and loaded, the muzzle pointed out ahead of you, strafing for contact. You heard your squad leader over the comms, gruff and clear as he spoke to your contact back on base.

“Rainbow, this is O1, we are two clicks due south of the compound. ETA 15 for contact, are we a go?”

After a moment of measured silence he got a response. “Rainbow to O1, you’re green lit. Standby for evac.”

O1 came back moments later. “Copy that. Over.” There was an audible cut through the radio before O1 addressed your squad. “Alright, squad. You heard the man. On your toes.” Each of you responded in turn. “O2 copy.” A pause. “O3 copy.” You depressed the button on your headset and responded. “O4 copy.”

Soon after, the four of you crested a hill and fanned out over the top of it, laying eyes upon the brilliant glow cutting through the velvet of night like a knife. O1 came through your ear piece and gave curt instruction. “O2, follow me to the east. O3 and O4 you take west. Stick close to the perimeter, plant the charge and fall back. We detonate on my count and breach simultaneously. Do you understand?”

The three of you responded in unison. “Sir, yes sir.” You saw him motion forward and your group began to move, splitting into your assigned pairs and descending upon the compound. You lost sight of your squad mates in the thick of the trees but kept close to O3 as you neared the far west walls of the hidden base. Just as you made the bottom of the hill there was a panicked cry over the comms from O2. “What the fuck is that? O1 we have a disturbance.” There’s a break in his speech, a long drawn out eerie quiet that unnerves you.

“Sir, we’re not alone! I repeat, not alone.” There was a faint scuffle in the distance and a single gunshot before O1 came over the comms, frantic. “O1 to Rainbow, we’re made! Requesting evac. It’s him.”

You and O3 stopped and turned towards the commotion, unsure of how to proceed. There was a heart stopping, pained scream in the distance and you heard Rainbow call to the pair of you over the comms. “O3, O4, this is Rainbow. Get out of there, you’re compromised. Get to evac. I repeat, Get to evac!”

The pair of you took off in the woods, abandoning mission and headed west towards the evac point. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest and had to focus to calm your breathing. At this point it was about survival as you followed close behind O3 and cut through the woodlands for the helo just eight clicks west.

There’s a flutter in the air, a woosh of displaced air as something whizzes by and you hear O3 ahead of you begin to panic. “Christ it’s him! Run for it, now!” O3 bolts forward and you’re sprinting to catch up but soon he’s lost in the copse of pines and all you have left of him is his panicked yells and heavy breathing over the radio. “O3, where are you? O3!?!” You hear the deafening discharge of a heavy caliber ring out in the still night and it’s too close for comfort.

You veer away from it and towards the evac. Splitting off on your own as the blood of your last remaining squad member drains from the brand new vent hole in his head and begins to quickly cool in the night air. You can hardly hear yourself crash through the woods, boots scaling over rocks and fallen logs as your breath quickens and terror begins to set in.

You miss the whirring of the foreign object the second time around but there’s no mistaking the calm, collected voice in your ear as he hacks through your comms and makes himself known. “There you are. There’s no hiding. Not for you. Not for me.”

Rainbow comes in low and static-y though the comms and you struggle to make him out clearly. “O4 do you… in O4… Get out! I rep-… Deimos is tra-…. On your posit-….” And then everything cuts. Your comms go dark and you’re officially alone, the last of a nearly dead and shattered squad in the dead of night in the thick of the sticks.

Determined not to die in the midst of these pines you beeline for the green blip on your gps. If you could just make it to the helo you’d survive but as you took a final glance at your position a second blip pinged. A dark red skull just twenty meters back. His deathMARK. You felt a lump in your throat as you realized you’d been made and triple timed it, arms pumping at your sides as you tore through the woods in fear. Pure terror coursed through your veins and nipped at your heels, promising death if caught. There was no capture, Deimos wasn’t known for taking prisoners.

You mounted a hill and pushed out between two huge oaks as you practically slid down the other side. You made huge strides, legs driving you towards salvation as you pushed them to the limit in hopes of escape. You were only four clicks out when you tripped, stumbling over something hard and unseen as you crashed ungracefully to the ground and tumbled in the leaf litter. You scrambled to regain your footing, clawing at the earth and struggling to your feet.

You had just made it up when he hit you like a freight train, violently tackling you and knocking you on your back. The pair of you rolled in the foliage, tumbling over one another in the night and sprawling apart as you came to a jolting stop.

This was it, it was fight or die so you grabbed for the push daggers secured to the straps of your tac vest and faced your adversary. He came up ready to fight, charging forward and lunging for you. You drove forward with a fist, spearheaded leathily by the edge of the knife and swung out to bite at his throat. He pulled back and you sliced through air instead, he followed through with an arm on your elbow and brought your arm down over one thick thigh, breaking your hold and successfully disarming you.

With one knife left you pushed back at his chest and swung forward to attack, hoping to aggressively close the distance and quickly end him but he grabbed your arm with his strong gloved hands and twisted it around until your back was socketed into his chest. He pulled on your limb and brought it down hard over his knee, breaking your hold for a second time and disarming you completely.

You struggled out of his grip and tried to make a break for it, a last ditch effort to stay alive and bolt but he caught a grip on your ankle and you once more went sprawling to the ground, ass over teapot. When you turned around to face death you caught sight of his ballistic mask towering over you, he held the magnum in a tight grip in his right hand and you knew it was over. At least you’d die with your squad, knowing you’d done your best and been outplayed.

But instead of staring down the unblinking black eye that was the bore of his barrel you felt the butt of the .44 Vendetta crash down on your temple before the night stole over you and blocked out all thought.

It wasn’t til much later that you awoke, sluggish, confused and in tremendous pain. The room was bright but cold and when you tried to alleviate the pain in your head by bringing your hand up to soothe it you realized you were bound and secured to some kind of padded platform. Your arms were stretched out and down in front of you, bound together by something strong and without give. Your legs were similarly bound but tucked up beneath you on the padded bench. It was then you realized you were also naked from the waist down. Your chest was covered but had been stripped of your tac gear and uniform and replaced with a stark white tee, your bra was also missing.

You weren’t blindfolded or gagged but when you tried to whip your head around you found it hard to maneuver, only about five degrees of field of view to see on either side and all you could see of that was dingy white tile from floor to ceiling. You struggled in your bonds but stopped as you heard the slow, methodical blows of his boots on the concrete steadily drawing nearer. You stiffened and tried not to think about the view he no doubt was privy to from this angle. He broke the silence first.

“Well she’s finally awake. Don’t struggle, the knots won’t give, I tied them myself.” He sounds smug and confident as he strides up behind you, voice low and clear, not quite deep but thoroughly resolute, the draw of a southern twang peeking out subtly but sophisticated. The venom in you begins to well up in your throat, your teeth grit and body tensing as your anger builds and your hate gestates.

You let loose on him, anger burning a hole in your chest as you feel robbed of your rightful death, you shouldn’t be here still breathing, you should be dead in the woods with your squad, not tied up and captured like some kind of prized war spoil. “Fuck you! Kill me, you bastard!” He let himself come into view, circling around you with his arms clasped behind his back. He was still fully clad in his black tac gear and ballistic helmet, the dark, obsidian lenses of his eyes gleamed deviously in the fluorescent light.

“Can’t get information out of you if you’re dead, now can we?” You ground your teeth in your skull, body trembling in half fear, half seething rage. “You won’t get a damn word out of me, motherfucker! You’ll have to kill me, I won’t talk!”

His head tilted slightly as he tisked, chiding you calmly. “Such a nasty mouth.” He disappeared from view, the dark drape of his cape flowing out behind him, returning to his position behind you as you heard a rustle and the soft tink of metal on metal as he lifted something off of a table. “My godfather was a stern but loving man. He taught me at an early age about duty and responsibility. About discipline and respect. I loved and respected him dearly but as all boys are, I had a tendency to be rowdy and disrespectful at times. He taught me these values with a firm and unyielding hand. Something I think you could use a good helping of.”

You heard the crack of the belt as he brought the two looped ends taut in his hands and immediately stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, including the details of your mission, the intel you received and who you received it from along with the coordinates of the Rainbow base.” He stopped and waited for your response, you sat still and silent, mentally preparing yourself for the coming onslaught.

“Nothing to share?” You shifted in place but spat out at him, tongue in cheek. “Fuck you.” Shortly after you felt the first lick of the belt as it cut through the air and cracked across your bare ass, making you jump and yelp. It may have been a far cry from conventional interrogation methods but it was still painful and humiliating. You heard the leather slide in his fist before you felt the second blow, just parallel to the first, aimed and executed with precision to land just beside it on the same cheek. “Fuck!”

He hummed contently. “Tell me what your mission objective was.” He languidly paced behind you as he waited for your answer, when none came he brought the belt down on the other cheek twice in rapid succession, giving you no time to recover. You tried shifting away from the blows but had about a half an inch of clearance for wiggle room, there was no evading it.

He kept it up, pausing and then attacking ruthlessly, periodically stopping before doling it out again, fat, opaque lines began to criss cross on the smooth surface, marking his progress. He questioned you again and you held silent, preferring to suffer through the consequences rather than give in and endanger an entire base of your colleagues for the quicker respite of death. He’d kill you in time either way, it was better to hold out and die honorably than relent for a swifter end.

“You’re resilient, tough little spit fire, I’ll give you that. But you should know your silence has consequences.”

You sneered at him where he couldn’t see. “I don’t give a fuck about me. Beat me, torture me, cut my toes off one by one, I don’t care. You’ll kill me when you figure out I’ve got nothing to say to you and I will die honorably.”

He laughs and it makes a sliver of uncertainty worm through you. “I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart.” The pet name makes you queasy but his response only confuses you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When our little talk ends, the door closes. If you don’t tell me what I wanna know by the time we’re through here your life as you know it ceases to exist.”

“I already told you to just go ahead and kill me. I’ll die before I tell you anything that would put Rainbow at risk.” Instead of punching you in the ribs or breaking a finger he just leaned in til you could feel the warmth of his chest settle over the top of your bare ass and it felt much more sinister than any strike or blow.

“Oh sweetheart, there are fates much worse than death.” You still don’t quite understand and he senses you struggling to grasp the full scope of the threat so he takes a break from the spanking and explains it to you in full detail.

You hear him set the belt down on something before you feel his gloved hands caressing your ass, running the covered fingertips over his handiwork and down the swell of your cheeks before dipping lower and skimming the slit of your sex. His fingers come away slick and he smirks behind the mask where you can’t see.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear then I’m going to take these-“ You hear a jingle from behind you and know they’re your dog tags, probably scalped from your neck as he undressed you no doubt. “-and I’m going to throw them out in the woods with your dead squad mates. They’ll think one of two things. Either you died out there like a good soldier and some animal, pack of coyotes perhaps, carted your body away or, I finally caught up with you, gave you an ultimatum, and you sold them out from under the rug. Either way they’ll come to the conclusion that you’re beyond saving and they’ll bury you in an empty casket and move on.”

You felt it all coming to a head and the audacity of it came to be too much. “You’re wrong! They’ll never stop looking for me! You think they’ll give up so easily! They won’t stop until they find me! Ohhhh and they will find me! You are so fucked! You are sooo-“

The crack of the belt against your ass cut off your angry rant, the words dying in a pained yelp as he brought the leather down on your ass in an angry torrent. SMACK. SMACK. SMACKSMACKSMACK.

You clenched against the pain, trying to curl up on yourself but of course it was no use, you could only sit and take it. When the onslaught ended he continued.

“You didn’t let me finish. Either way… no one is going to come looking for you. And I think I’m starting to like you so instead of killing you, like you’re dying to have me do-“ You feel the return of his fingers, the cool leather of his glove soothing against the heated stinging welts already swelling on your cheeks. Then they glided down and you felt his fingers spread your lips and when he spoke this time he sounded different somehow, louder and clearer.

“-I’m going to keep you all to myself. I’ll house you, clean you, feed you. During the day I’ll keep you tied up in here, my own sweet little stress relief, make the walls of this room echo with screams of a different caliber for a change.”

It wasn’t until you felt the flat of his tongue glide up the length of your sex that you realized why he sounded so much clearer, he’d taken his mask off and now he was casually eating your pussy, tongue dipping in between his fingers spreading you apart so gently, a stark contrast from the harsh belt treatment he’d been afflicting upon you moments before.

He hummed into your pussy and you squirmed against the heat of him, simultaneously freaking out yet undeniably turned on as his tongue probed you and his hands caressed the cheeks of your ass. He pulled away and you weren’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a whine of protest that built a home in your throat, kept at bay only by the last mustering of your will.

“So sweet. When I was a boy growing up in Birmingham, I used to play in the sugar cane fields for hours. Me and my friends would cut away stalks from the edges of the field for a taste. You taste just like that, fresh cut sugar cane.” You shuddered in his hold and told yourself it was all psychological warfare, it changed nothing. When he had the information he seeked he would cut you down just like he did all the rest.

You felt him step away from behind you and come up to your side, his hands trailing like fire along the length of your body as he did so. He reached under the platform you were tied to and suddenly your arms pulled forward in front of you, forcing your chest to pull forward and press against the bench. Your ass raised up high and unshielded as you felt the collective wetness of his saliva and your slick coating your lips, chilly exposed like this, but it doesn’t take long before he’s resumed the position and you feel his hot breath fanning against it, rewarming his meal.

“We’re gonna have a lot fun, sugar cane.”

“So.” Lick. “Much.” Lick. “Fun.” Lick.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped, at this new angle he had access to the fulty of you and his tongue dipped down and swiped at your clit on the last lick making you momentarily lose yourself in the white hot pleasure of it. “Fuck!”

“I intend to.” You don’t grasp until much later the meaning of that, lost to the way he eats you so slow and sensual. He chuckles behind you and you know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he intends to keep true to his word because he’s stopped questioning you, stopped beating you, just content to sample his new toy. Your life is over, because you won’t give up Rainbow and you won’t tell him a goddamn thing and your stubborn honor has damned you in a way that was worse than death and now you’ll spend the rest of your days keeping his cock warm until you’ve gone insane from it.

Taking his time and savoring the taste of you on his tongue, you feel the first press of his padded fingers prodding your entrance. Gently pushing forward til he was in just up to the first knuckle, sawing them in and out slowly and twisting them in your heat as his tongue stayed latched to your clit, suckling it.

“Deimos!” He rewarded you with an open mouthed kiss to your clit as he pushed his gloved fingers further into your depths, exploring them as your back arched nice and pretty for him as far as your binds would allow.

He pulled his tongue away to your dismay but kept his fingers buried in you, stilling their movement but curling them inside you to press teasingly against your sweet spot. “Got some new insights for me, sugar cane?”

Your lips were sealed shut as far as that was concerned but your resolve was waning, you recognized the point of no return you were quickly approaching and despite the horrible implications of your future, there were just too many good men and women with their lives on the line for you to justify the alternative.

So you shifted shamelessly to push back on his fingers, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to focus on the pleasure and not the humiliating position you were quickly failing to resist against. He recognized the move as you made it and gave you what was to be his last warning.

“Let me put it in no uncertain terms for you. When I come right in here-“ He flexed his fingers inside you to demonstrate his point, eliciting a high whine from you. “-your time is up. You can sing all you want but past that point you’re no longer your own woman. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You didn’t even consider your freedom for the briefest of seconds, just nodded solemnly as you accepted his terms, though little they mattered. Although he’d seen your nod it mustn’t have been good enough as you felt the all too familiar crack of the leather, jolting you from your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. You clenched down on his fingers, eyes rolling in their sockets at the euphoric sensation.

“I need a verbal answer.” Your grit your teeth for not the first and certainly not the last time dealing with him. “Screw you!”

He laughed, it was easy and carefree. “All in good time, sweetheart. I’m gonna enjoy my meal first.” With that he seemed to be done speaking, leaving you to stew over a decision you’d already made and ruminate in the consequences of it. He dove eagerly back into the heat of your sex, plunging his fingers enthusiastically in and out of your pussy while his tongue lapped at the juices that seeped out around them.

He watched as your toes curled in on themselves, mouth dropping open where he couldn’t see and expelling breath in a silent moan. He proved to be skillful in a manner of ways and this seemed to be no exception to the rule, making light work of bringing your pleasure to a head and threatening to throw you over the edge quicker than you’d like to admit.

You fought for control of your body but it was a battle you were unavoidably losing as he pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his tongue, pushing it deep into you and occupying his hands by rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. It was a devastating sensation that pulled your muscles taut, your head raised up off the padding and tipped back as far as your restraints would allow as you suddenly came violently.

He spurred it on, lapping at your sopping wet slit and never ceasing the movements of his thumb, making you shake and really test the strength of your ties. He drove you through your orgasm, not even slowing as you began to plead with him to stop, it was too much. When you thought you’d tumble head first into a second one he finally relented, leaving you gasping and panting as you vaguely heard him shucking his pants behind you.

You felt something hard and blunt at your entrance as he slid his cock up to you and rifled it up and down your slit, wetting the tip and enjoying the light springy jump that coursed through you every time his head hit your clit.

“Last chance, sweetheart. As much as I’d hate to lose your company, you’re running out of chances to secure your freedom.” You could hardly focus on his words, still caught between struggling to catch up from your first mind blowing orgasm and steeling yourself against the promise of a second one if the way your pussy was trying and failing to catch his tip and suck it in was any indicator.

He lined himself up and pushed forward, causing you both to moan out together as he stretched you open on his girth. “Fuck me, you are sweet.” He slid home, hips pushing flush with yours as you adjusted to the way he seemed to fill you out perfectly. Your head dipped as he began a steady, unrushed rhythm, slapping his hips to yours every time he drove it home.

You had stopped breathing since he’d entered you and suddenly took one huge sucking breath in, filling your lungs just to immediately expel it as a broken but pleasured moan. He growled behind you and you could feel it vibrate through you in a whole new sensation, overloading your senses, coursing white and blinding in its intensity.

“Please!” You had no idea what you were begging for but it just felt so right, losing your sense of self, reduced to nothing more than nerve endings. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back and taking out the slack as your back arched to accommodate his hold.

“Oh god!” You could hardly imagine how you must look, head cocked back and slack-jawed as he split you open from behind. Each thrust was precise and calculated, wringing you for every last drop of pleasure until your mind went blank and your whole being submitted to the fucking.

He leaned forward, breath hot and heavy right behind your ear as he spoke and he must’ve known you were a goner because instead of trying to extract information he just spoke of the future. All the ways he’d bend you to his will, how he’d break you and build you back better in his image.

“It’s truly a shame we met under these circumstances. Under a different light I’d have enjoyed training you, honing your skills instead of wasting all this potential such as it is. Under me you’d have made an unstoppable operator. Now you’ll never see combat again.”

For some reason this truth had only now dawned on you, some deep part of your brain had held out hope of escape or retaliation or vengeance but cock drunk beneath him you knew it was hopeless, he was absolutely right and you were ultimately fucked.

As if he’d been holding back he renewed his vigor and began to pound into you from behind with abandon. Your mouth was dry and your knees were screeching at you from below, despite the padding, but all you could focus on was the pool of pleasure building heavy in your gut. There was no turning back from this, your mind screamed for you to do something but any other thoughts were beyond you and so you expelled them with the rest and took your fate as it sealed, securing a chokehold around your throat and brought you to heel.

You came around his cock, the second world shattering orgasm of the evening and much more all encompassing in its magnitude. You were certain you felt your heart stop, lungs burning for air as you clenched down around him. Seconds later he followed, coming with a half moan, half growl as you squeezed him for all he was worth. White hot spend filled you from the inside out and it was as blissful as it was damning.

The game was up, you were his. You stayed like that, riding the bliss and eyeing up the defeat that swelled up to take its place as it faded. He pulled out of you slowly and you felt his seed drip from you, slide down your thighs and puddle on the bench below you. You hardly heard him as he cleaned himself up and redressed. There was a click as the door to the room opened for the first time you were aware to hear it and two men stepped into the room.

There was a moment of nothing before you felt two firm hands wrap themselves around your arms and loosen your binds. They held you up til the tips of your feet hardly grazed the cool concrete floor and stationed on either side of you, held you up for inspection. You lifted your head to see him standing before you, dog tags dangling from one fist and the belt folded over on itself held tight in the other.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed in you, soldier. You stood your ground and that commands immense bravery. But you knew the rules and now you’ll reap what you’ve sown. You mustered up enough strength to gather saliva in between your lips and spit at his face. It didn’t quite make it and landed at his feet but you could hear a smile in his voice as he commanded the men at your side to carry you up to his quarters. He’d be seeing you again very soon.

[mortuary-reads]

Superhero morals had no place on a drunk and horny animal...

🐇🍓Fruit Bunny🍓🐇

Wolverine x Female OC

Summary~ Wolverine takes advantage of the cute girl that comes into the bar for a lonely birthday drink.

Warning~ Non-Con, Primal/Prey, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Mention of blood and saliva

Word Count~ 3,115

Author's Note~ This is my first Tumblr post, so I hope it looks alright. I wrote this story on Ao3, and with the help of @romanarose, I was able to make a post here!

Divider 1 made by~ @plum98

Divider 2 made by~ @mmadeinheavenn

Logan had just opened another bottle of cheap beer when he heard the bell above the front door open. He turned his head out of lazy curiosity and saw a short, chubby girl with pale blonde hair walk in. Her walk was timid as she made her way up to the middle of the bar where the bartender stood. It just so happened to be right next to Logan. He caught a whiff of her perfume with his sensitive mutant nose.

Strawberries.

In his tipsy state with an empty stomach, he found her scent mouth-watering and couldn’t stop himself from leaning a bit closer to her. She didn’t seem to notice.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?” The worker leaned on the bar.

“Um… Do you make mixed drinks here?” She asked shyly.

The bartender made eye contact with Logan, and they both chuckled. He looked back at her. “I do if you’re 21. Can I see some I.D. please?”

“Oh! Right.” She sheepishly opened her pink satchel purse and pulled out a lacy wallet the same color. She grabbed her identification card, showed it to the man, and he nodded with approval.

“I’m guessing you’re wanting something fruity?”

“Yes, please. If you can.”

“I’ll see what I can whip up for ‘ya.” The barkeep grunted and stretched while turning to look at his alcohol stash.

The brunette man examined her as she put her wallet away. Her outfit made her stand out in the grimy bar. Pristine black Mary Janes held her tiny feet, covered by baggy cream leg warmers with knitted strawberries on them. Under those were white tights that hugged her thick thighs followed by a short denim ruffle skirt and a heart belt. She wore a tight white shirt with a huge strawberry printed on the front and a small bow to hold back her side bangs. She was so cute it made him feel nauseous. What a lovely little rabbit.

“Can…I help you?” The girl asked, her voice filled with unease.

“Mm!” Logan cleared his throat and leaned away. “My bad, I just thought you smelled nice. Don’t mind the old, drunk bastard.” He took a swig of his beer.

Happy to hear a compliment, but still weary, she smiled at him. “Oh, thank you. It’s a new perfume I got for my birthday.”

“The big 21?” Logan asked.

“No, 22. My friends couldn’t make it this time, so I’m just here, drinking alone.” She chuckled nervously.

That was her first mistake.

Something in him turned. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol swirling in his stomach or the growing hardness in his pants, but his body felt extra hot. “Ain’t no shame in that.” He drew from his big cigar.

The bartender set down a martini glass filled with a light red liquid and a big bright strawberry on the side. “I figured you liked strawberries.”

The girl mock-gasped, “How could you tell?” then laughed.

Logan found her laughter almost as intoxicating as the beer in his hands.

“That’ll be-” The bartender started, but was interrupted by the burly man with the cigar.

“On me, Tim.” Logan held his hand up slightly.

The barkeep nodded his head, and walked to the register to put it on his tab.

“Awww thank you! You didn’t have to-”

“I know I didn’t.” He gulped down the rest of his beer and placed it on the bar a bit too heavy. “Add me three more shots and I’m calling it, big guy.” He called out to Tim.

Feeling uneasy again, the girl took her drink and thanked him again.

“Mhm.” Was all that came out as he puffed his cigar.

Logan clenched and released his fists multiple times after she walked away to sit at a table in the back of the bar. After getting his shots he snuck multiple glances at her. He didn’t understand where this yearning feeling came from. He’d already swallowed so much pooling saliva in fear he’d drool all over himself, and it made him angry. He could even smell her strong fragrance wafting over to him, like an invitation. He watched as she kicked her legs on the stool that was too high for her. He watched as she took too many selfies and made silly faces into the camera. Her movements were so delicate that it made his entire body quiver with need.

The evening saw the sun go down, and a blue-gray fog enveloped the windows of the bar. Logan noticed the girl clumsily hop off her stool, and straighten out her skirt and purse. He quickly turned his back to her as she headed in his direction towards the door. Biting his knuckles, he stopped himself from whimpering as the chime from the bell above the door rang out twice, signifying her departure.

Blowing out a deep breath, Logan got off his stool and popped the collar of his leather jacket before throwing back his last shot.

“Hey, Logan, Have a nice night, man!” Tim shouted from the end of the bar where he’d been in a conversation with another customer.

“Yeah.” Logan mumbled, dropping a one-hundred dollar bill on the counter before walking out the front door into the cool air. On the pavement he checked his watch and sighed.

6:37 the time read. He didn’t have time to think of anything else before the familiar scent of strawberries assaulted his nose. With a deep inhale, he looked to his right and noticed the small girl making her way down the sidewalk headed towards the deep wooded area next to the bar.

Her second mistake.

Why that way? Kid’s gonna get herself killed. He hesitated, just standing there as she kept walking. The sway of her hips was mesmerizing to Logan. He clenched his fists and scowled, as if in a war with himself. He knew it was wrong; lusting after a girl so young. Wanting her so aggressively. The idea was so tempting…

The concrete sidewalk vanished into naked ground, as she made her way through the treeline on its dirt path.

Oh, she’s asking for it.

Superhero morals had no place on a drunk and horny animal. There was no justification for all the things he wanted to do to her. Walking in her same direction, he decided that he didn’t care; his mind was made up.

Logan stuck his hands in his pockets and honed in on her scent. In a tipsy haze, he had to focus somewhat harder than normal to keep her in his line of sight, but his need for her kept his animalistic instincts in check. As the lights of the bar melted out of view, his eyes stayed glued on her. He knew exactly where to crouch, duck, and hide every time she turned around. And each time she did, he could feel his heart skip a beat. He almost felt like he could laugh with the rush of adrenaline he was experiencing. The way she hummed romantically to herself made him feel like he was floating. Stalking his prey, his body twitched, waiting for the right moment to strike. Signs of life outside of the forest grew quieter, which meant he had to as well.

He was right up on her, two trees away. He was slightly surprised he was able to get so close.

No spatial awareness… dumb fucking rabbit. Wolverine scoffed to himself.

For the first time the pretty prey stopped. She checked her phone for what he felt was the umpteenth time.

        “Still no service.” She mumbled to herself and sighed. “This phone company sucks ass…”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Logan forced himself to come out of the trees and onto the path, about ten feet away from the girl. Hearing the rustling, she turned around and jumped.

A surprised shriek came from her throat. “Oh, my God! Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same question, little rabbit.” He said in a low growl, taking a few steps towards her.

“I’m just trying to get home.” She gulped. “This way is a short-cut.”

“It’s dangerous for an attractive thing like you to be out here-” he surveyed the vast area around him, “-alone.”

“Hey, um… I can pay you back for the drink, that's no big deal.” She laughed nervously, fumbling with the flap of her purse.

Trails of wetness ran from his mouth, down his neck, and soaked the collar of his wife beater. Wolverine spit on the dirt path beneath him, letting the last of his pooled saliva dribble over his lips. “I don’t want your money, princess. But you can give me something else.”

He started walking steadily, and noticed her chest rising and falling rapidly. Each step he took towards her, she took backwards. She tripped over loose items on the path as the animal in front of her kept a steady pace.

“Please, sir, I-I don’t want any trouble.” She slowly held her hands out.

“Mmm, say that again.” He slowly peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside.

Both figures kept the same pace and distance on the ground. Logan could feel his claws unsheathe themselves, his sanity gradually slipping from him. The only thing on his mind being the pretty piece of flesh in front of him. She gasped and took a handful of hurried steps back as tears formed and fell from her eyes. He thought they looked so delicious on her pale cheeks. 

Her nose twitched, and in an instant, she turned and dashed through the woods.

“You run your sweet, hoppity tail off.” He said to himself before he booked it right after her, running on all fours, claws piercing the ground with each burst forward. Blood curdling screams rose out of her body as she ran. Wolverine gained on her with almost no effort and pounced directly on her back. She screamed again as they both hit the ground, landing on a bed of dead leaves and sticks. His claws receded and he aggressively flipped her over on her back as short yelps escaped her mouth. She fought him in vain, pounding on his arms and chest, only to send shooting pain through her arms and legs. His metal bone structure would only hurt and wear her out faster; exactly what he was hoping for. He easily overpowered her, pinning her arms to the side of her head, with his knees on her shins.

“Fighting me won’t get ‘cha anywhere, bunny.”

“Fuck off!” She screamed, thrashing her head in hopes to hit him.

Wolverine gripped her wrists tighter and she screamed again.

“Knock it off!” He barked.

“Get off of meee…!” She cried out, but did slow her moving.

Her wiggling body underneath him sent a wave of heat to his twitching member, straining to free itself from his jeans. He lowered his head in the side of her neck and inhaled deeply the inebriating smell of strawberries, sweat, and fear.

The chilly fog in the air had thickened, giving the illusion of just the two in their own, messed up world.

“I'm gonna have so much fun with you, pretty girl.” He said, almost sickly-sweet.

Logan released his right hand from her wrist and not a moment later she slapped him hard across the face. She cried out in anguish, coiling her hand into her chest.

“Owwww…” She sobbed, turning her face away from the animal holding her down. “P-please…”

He gripped her face and twisted it hard to face him. He loved looking at her chubby cheeks crushed between his hand. Her movement ceased. Big blue eyes stared up at him in pure horror.

“P-p-please.” He mocked her and frowned dramatically only to break into maniacal laughter. Unsheathing his claws once more, he hooked them under her bra and shirt, and swiped up, tearing open each. After, he did the same with her skirt and tights, leaving her black panties intact and for show. He didn’t touch her leg warmers or shoes, only caring about how to achieve his goal fastest.

The girl dared not move as Wolverine lifted himself to his feet. She watched him throw off his top, unbuckle his pants and quickly pull off his gray boxers. She looked in shock at the mammoth sized cock protruding from the man’s muscular body. Her lips quivered as she looked back up at him, only to see he’d been watching her the whole time.

“Not so delicate now, are you?” He whispered to himself, bringing himself down to her level. He crawled towards her, drool dripping again from his mouth. He stopped between her legs and got up on his knees.

“If I offended you in any-” The pale blonde squealed as he ripped her panties clean off, exposing her cunt.

He grabbed both her ankles and forced her legs wide open and high in the air, leading her to scream out in agony as her muscles tensed. “Aahhhh…!”

“Mmm. Such… supple prey. Mine… to ruin.” His grasp on her ankles strengthened as his saliva fell in thick drops over her groin. He towered over the girl, looking down to admire the snow-white, chubby body below him. The dirt had stained her skin, and small cuts from the sticks smeared her arms with blood. Wolverine spit hot saliva on her twitching pussy, providing the first bout of lubrication.

She winced as he slapped his heavy cock on her vulva. “I-I can’t take that. I’ll die…”

Logan knew that was an exaggeration, but she believed it, and that's all that mattered. Panic re-entered her system and she started to try and pull away. He stopped her almost immediately by spreading her legs wider, that followed with another cry of pain.

“Maybe after I ruin you…” He lined his cock against her vaginal opening, “...I’ll make myself a nice rabbit stew.”

The poor creature yowled into the night as Wolverine penetrated her. Given no time to adjust to his size, all she could do was dig her hands into the soil beneath her and take it. Loud, broken grunts escaped from her as he shoved himself inside. He craved to go deeper, but was halted by her cervix.

“Fuck.” He growled, looking down at the lude scene before him. He still had more to give her. He wanted- no, needed- his entire dick sheathed inside her tight hole. 

“Go-od, please stop.” She begged. To him, her smeared makeup and tears made her even prettier. “It hurts. It hurts so bad!”

Without acknowledging her words, Logan bent himself down to hover over her, taking her thighs into the crook of his arms, spreading her wider. “I need to-” He moaned as he forced the remaining bit of his cock into her over stuffed pussy. “There… We go!”

“Be good…sweet bunny.” He sank his teeth deep into her neck as he rammed himself in and out of her.

“NooOOO!” 

Her blood tasted like candy on his tongue. After a while, her screams turned into dazed sobs, and her body fell limp. Her vagina had self lubricated as a protective measure, making it easier for him to pound harder and faster, bruising her cervix. 

His heart fluttered as she moaned incoherent things in her stupefied state. Her hands had landed themselves on his body, feebly grabbing at and rubbing his chest. He slowed down slightly to really feel the moment, and the body he was abusing.

“Please…I…oohh fuck…” She threw her head back as her body shook in an involuntary orgasm. He removed his teeth from her neck, blood flowing freely from the four deep puncture marks. Her cunt tightened around him, making him moan with her. She started sobbing again, embarrassed at her lack of control, but too exhausted to do anything about it. Her new cries revitalized him, and he picked back up to his brutal pace.

“Take… all of it.” He said brusquely as his own orgasm approached. Wolverine’s eyes rolled back and he slammed into her to the hilt of his cock. Prey wailed out as cum gushed directly into the deepest part of her vagina. She felt herself being filled with hot, thick liquid, and they both moaned as it overflowed and spilled out. He hovered over her, panting and cursing. He moved his arms, releasing the girl from her painful position. As her sore legs dropped and straightened out, he fell on top of her naked chest. He could still smell the strawberry perfume on her, though it was extremely weak being covered by the scent of earth and sex. 

He didn’t want to pull out of her. In all honesty he could lay there for the night and use her as a pillow to sleep.

It’s not like she could do anything about it. Logan thought, But I need to get out of here before I’m found out. He picked himself up off of her and stared down at her spent figure. Her eyes were half lidded, chest rising and falling softly. She looked somewhat peaceful, if it wasn’t for her twitching legs and gaping cunt. After putting his clothes back on, he grabbed his phone out of the left front pocket and dialed the crisis number.

“-What’s your emergency?” The woman on the line asked.

Logan cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah, I found a girl unconscious in the woods off of 3rd and 5th. About a mile in. She looks like she might need medical attention.”

“Alright sir, I have an ambulance on the way to you, can you please remain on the li-”

He pressed the red disconnect button and shoved his phone back in his pocket. The ravaged girl behind him stirred.

“Wha- where…?” She started pitifully.

He crouched down next to her. “You’ve got help coming, they’ll take good care of you, kid.” The brute softly ruffled her hair and caressed her tear stained cheek. 

“Hel-p…?” She looked up at him with sad, distant eyes. There would be no getting through to her. He’d completely broken her- mind and body, and was weak from blood loss. It would take a long time for her to recover.

He felt a twinge of guilt ruining such an innocent girl, but was proud looking at his immoral masterpiece. “I have your scent memorized. Maybe one day I’ll find you again and mark you a second time. Would you like that? A matching pair of bite marks sounds good, don’t it?”

She winced and curled her body away from him. 

Logan chuckled as he stood up. “Happy birthday, little rabbit." He said as he walked through the woods away from the path.

Thank you for reading! <3

[hanasnx]

Waaaaitttt I saw the Hayden suggestions and I’ve unashamedly thought about the very top one many many times cause I’m embarrassingly craving that y/n moment and I’ve gone to a decent amount of cons and met a fair amount of celebs I’ve debated about using one of the pheromone perfumes to meet Hayden. But like yess he sees you during the photo op and he’s instantly drawn to you. He doesn’t pay much attention to that thought cause he’s got a long line to get through and photo ops are fast paced but then when you go up to get your autograph that’s when he can sneakily make a move. When you get an autograph the handlers write your name for the celeb on a sticky note and usually the celeb doesn’t take it off so like I’m thinking he quickly scribbles his number on it and you’re so star struck you don’t notice it until you’re away from his table..but that’s how you end up in his hotel room that night with your legs up over your head.

-Bimbo Baggins

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: i gatekept this message it was so good

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN tries to stay in his lane. Over the years he's gotten exceptionally good at minding his business, minding his manners, and staying out of trouble. Mixing business with pleasure is a very steep cliff, one he rarely dares to approach. However, you had caught his eye in a way that hadn't occurred in a very long time. To give everyone fair treatment during these photo ops, his attention is solely on them during, and he did not mind at all holding your gaze when you shook his hand politely. Habitually, when you'd leaned over in front of him to give one of the attendants something he didn't care to look at, he snuck a generous glance at your ass. As soon as you stepped back to stand next to him for the picture, he accommodated you, moving aside so you could tuck under his arm, and scolded himself for giving in to the temptation.

"Can we do a sort of Anidala-wedding scene pose?" you had asked with such hope, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes. He took too long to answer.

"Of course." He nodded as soon as he got a hold of himself. "Can you show me what you mean?"

Gently, you directed him, handling his broad shoulders to turn him towards you so you could look deeply into his eyes for the picture. For one second, he could swear his heart skipped a beat. Next thing he knew, the picture flashed and you were saying your thank yous and goodbyes. A seed of disappointment grew in his chest, but he moved on.

Only to find himself eager sitting in his seat at the sight of you in the autograph line. A grin spreads on his features as you approach his booth.

"Hi again." you exhale, beaming.

"Good to see you." Hayden replies, pointing out the obvious humor of coming across you twice in a row. He's thankful, scribbling his signature onto the picture frame you'd bought earlier right after your photo op with him. A split second decision is made and it gives him no time to second-guess it when he's adding his number to the sticky note. It's his WhatsApp, just to stay safe, but you don't get time to even look at it, your attention solely on him when you thank him again. He nods at you, and watches you walk away. Once more, his eyes flash to your behind and how it sways in your little cosplay outfit.

It's not always about instant attraction for him, he has to get to know the person to know if he truly likes them, but there's something about you that draws him in. He wants to get to know you, even if he might be compromising his privacy. The ball is in your court, all he has to do is wait for you to notice the gift he left on your sticky note.

"What's that?" your friend asks, pointing to your picture frame in your hand. You grin widely at them.

"Hayden Christensen signed my picture with him— Look!" you exclaim, raising the item into view only to see what your friend was actually referring to. Your expression drops at the sight of ten numbers in a recognizable pattern. A phone number. You face away from your friend in an instant, keeping it to yourself and shielding it with your body. "No way. No fucking way—"

"Is that a phone number? Lemme see—!"

You pinch your shoulder, jerking it away from their touch as you ogle at the sticky note. "There's no way..." It's a dream, it's a fantasy, you're going to wake up any second and then have to get ready to go to con to meet Hayden Christensen for the first time.

"Relax! It's probably the staff member that wrote your name on the sticky note!" your friend reasons, poking their head around your neck and through your hair to sneak a peek. "'Sides, he's like a thousand years old."

"Be quiet for a second, lemme think." you say as you stride away and out of the exit area, scanning your surroundings for a place to chill out and sit.

"If you're that bothered, we should test it! C'mon."

"Okay, okay. Let me find service I have to download an app."

You don't even know how it happened, all of it was a blur. One moment you were texting to verify the number was who you thought it was and ignored your gut feeling when you were texted back two simple words: "Call me."

With all the power within you, you tried to remain as calm as possible while on the phone with him. Constantly, you reminded yourself that "He's just some guy." So you could fathom having a real conversation with him. It turned into him inviting you out, somewhere respectful and secluded to talk after his panel, snowballed into visiting his hotel bar, and then up to his room to sit on his balcony.

"You mind if a smoke?" he'd asked. You shook your head. And it was the first time you'd tried a cigarette. The end still wet from his lips around it, and he cupped his big hands around the mouth of it so he could light it for you.

It must've been the alcohol, or the long day, but when you'd kissed him you were sure you were possessed. His lips were soft like silk, warm and plump, and he slid his hand behind your neck to make sure you couldn't run away. Tongues coated in nicotine curled against one another, experimenting as if afraid to turn the other one away.

Taller than you, you had to crane your neck, but he held you so carefully. Gentler still even when he draw you away while your lips were still pouted and pliantly awaiting his return. "I'm sorry, I apologize. I don't know what came over me." he exhaled, releasing you. But you didn't listen, clutching onto collar of his jacket to draw him right back in.

"Oh, right there. Right there!" you plea, clawing at the hotel pillows above your head as Hayden rolls his hips into you. Big hands tuck into the crooks of your knees, folding your legs over you to hit that spongy spot inside you. Cunt up to the sky, he's slamming into you like he's done it before, a sheen of sweat to his forehead. "That's so fucking good, Hayden," you draw out the words in a sultry whine, and for one second you can't believe that you get to say those words right now. Quickly drawn back in to the moment as soon as he bottoms out for the umpteenth time, screwing your fanatic brains out.

"You feelin' good? Yeah?" he exhales, and his tongue forms over his upper lip as he splays a hand under your ass. It feels so big on you as it lifts your hips up into his thrusts. "Keep those legs up for me." You do as you're told, replacing his touch on your thighs to make sure, and you overlay one of his hands. A strangely intimate and endearing detail he takes to heart, watching your little fingers grab at his in the crook of your knee while he's yanking your cunt up by your asscheek.

"Please don't stop, please!" You want to stay here all night, all next day, forever. You want to live in this little bubble.

In a way, he helps you to achieve that by giving you his real number when it's time to leave his hotel room, and makes you promise to take his call whenever he's in the area again.