#if you don't like his vision then don't watch it. you don't have the right to bully him. seriously whats wrong with you

[urno1luv]

hitman minjeong, who tries to kill you but falls in love with you instead ☆

cw: stalking, winter steals things from your apartment, murder obviously (not you tho!!), pretty big age gap (LEGAL), but she's creepy in regards to the age difference, she kinda stinks of alcohol and ciggies, non con (implied)

sorry reader but you kinda don't have any dialogue in this😔🫶 MEN AND MINORS DNI

summary: winter is shocked to find out that you are the daughter of a major drug supplier who she's been ordered to kill 10 years ago, a mission in which she was heavily injured. her resentment for you started to grow solely because of your connection to him, but fate seemed to have other plans for the two of you

Winter has never believed in fate.

She believes in precision. In cause and effect. In the cold steel of a blade pressed against skin, in the weight of a gun in her hand. Fate doesn’t pull the trigger. She does.

And yet, when she sees you for the first time, something in her wavers.

It’s supposed to be just another job. You are nothing more than a name on a contract, a target to be eliminated. But then, she sees your face. A face she’s never seen before, but one that still makes her blood run cold.

Because she knows your name. Not yours, but his. Your father.

The man who nearly killed her ten years ago.

Winter was around the age that you are now, back then. Still ruthless, still efficient, but not yet broken. The mission was clear: eliminate a powerful drug supplier who had made too many enemies. A clean kill, a quick escape. It should have been simple.

It wasn’t.

She underestimated him. His men. The way he had turned his home into a fortress, guarded like a king unwilling to lose his throne. The moment she pulled the trigger, chaos erupted. She barely made it out alive, a bullet tearing through her ribs, a knife slicing deep into her thigh. She remembers the pain, the smell of her own blood pooling around her, the way her vision blurred as she staggered into the night.

She survived, however. And he didn’t.

For years, she thought it was over. A chapter closed. But now—now, you exist.

The daughter of the man who left her on the brink of death.

She should hate you. And she does. At first.

She follows you like a phantom. Watches your every move. At first, it’s with resentment—cold, calculated, looking for an excuse to finish the job.

But then, she starts noticing the way you tilt your head when you read, how your lips part slightly when you’re deep in thought. The way you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening. How you bite your lip when you’re nervous, completely unaware of how it makes her stomach tighten.

It’s infuriating.

She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t find herself lingering outside your apartment longer than necessary. She shouldn’t know what brand of perfume you wear just by the faint scent you leave behind.

She shouldn’t have memorized the exact shade of your eyes.

But she has.

She tells herself it’s part of the job. That knowing every detail about you makes it easier to predict your movements. That she’s only watching you so closely because she wants to find the right moment to strike.

And yet, when she sees you smile—when she watches you laugh so easily, so carefree—something inside her twists.

You shouldn’t be happy. Not when your existence is a reminder of everything she lost.

So why does she want you to be?

Her presence in your life becomes a ghostly, lingering thing. She touches the world around you without you ever realizing it. A door you swore you locked remains unlocked. The feeling of being watched when you’re alone at night. A familiar perfume in the air that you can never quite place.

She wants to stop. To regain control. But she doesn’t.

Because there’s something intoxicating about knowing things about you that no one else does.

That she’s the only one who knows how you like your coffee when you’re too tired to function. That she’s the only one who sees the way your fingers tremble slightly when you’re overwhelmed. That she’s memorized the exact moment you fall asleep each night, your breathing slow and steady, your lips slightly parted.That she knows where you are at all times.

She wants you.

And it terrifies her.

Because Winter has never wanted anything before. She has always been a blade, a weapon forged for one purpose.

But now, all she can think about is what it would feel like to run her fingers over your skin, to hear her name fall from your lips, to see your face twist in something other than fear.

And it consumes her.

She tells herself she’ll end it. That she’ll stop this madness before it’s too late, but when she watches you from across the street, hidden in the shadows, and you suddenly turn—eyes scanning the crowd, as if you felt her presence—

It’s too late though. She's already gone.

You wake to the feeling of something wrong.

At first, it's a faint discomfort, a heaviness in the air that doesn't belong. Your senses are still clouded by the fog of sleep, but something feels off. The subtle scent of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey lingers in the room, thick and pungent—clinging to the air like a shadow that refuses to fade. You inhale, and the acrid smell burns your nostrils, forcing you awake.

Then, you feel it—a presence, heavy and near. You freeze. Your eyes snap open.

Winter.

She’s sitting on the edge of your bed, her posture relaxed, but the intensity in her gaze is unmistakable. The dim light from the streetlamp outside filters in, illuminating her just enough to catch the glint of her eyes—sharp, cold, and calculating. Her fingers play idly with the hem of your blanket, but there's a clear, underlying tension in every movement.

But what hits you first is the smell.

The pungent stench of stale cigarettes mixed with the sharp, bitter sting of alcohol. It coats her skin, makes her presence even heavier in the air, as if she’s marked the space with her scent, claiming it as her own. It's a smell you’ve come to recognize with dread, like a warning.

"You sleep so deeply," she murmurs, her voice thick with something that almost sounds satisfied. It’s not the voice of someone trying to soothe you—it’s rough, edged with something raw and unrestrained, as if she's too far gone to care. The smell on her is strong, and it's impossible to ignore.

Her hand brushes over your arm, a touch that is far too familiar, far too bold. When you flinch, she laughs softly, the sound low and almost affectionate, though there's no warmth in it.

"I almost didn’t want to wake you," she continues, and her breath carries the sharp bite of alcohol. It’s a cold, heavy scent that lingers in the back of your throat, making it hard to breathe.

You try to shift, to move away, but her hand is already there, pressing you back into the mattress with ease, her fingers strong and unyielding.

"Shh," she whispers, her tone deceptively soft. The words should calm you, but they only make your heart race faster.

But her scent—the thick, choking mix of smoke and whiskey—fills your senses. It’s overwhelming. She smells like danger, like someone who’s been lost in the haze of something darker for far too long.

She leans in closer, her breath a cloud of stale alcohol brushing against your skin. Her lips hover just above your ear, close enough that you can feel the heat of her body, feel the way she’s pressing into you, dominating the space between you.

"I’ve been watching you," she murmurs, and her voice is gruff, edged with something almost tender, as if she’s savoring the words.

The smell is suffocating now—cloying and heavy, just like her presence. The longer she stays, the more you feel the pull of her, like you’re drowning in it.

Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate, like she’s committing you to memory.

"You’re so young," she says with a chuckle, the words thick with that bitter, intoxicating edge. "So naive."

She pauses, just long enough to watch you squirm beneath her, and her gaze never leaves you. It’s calculating, hungry, but there's something almost tender in the way she looks at you, as if she’s waiting for something to break.

She leans down further, the alcohol and cigarette smoke clinging to her like a second skin. Her lips graze the edge of your neck, the warmth of her breath mixing with the foul scent that’s now inescapable.

"You don’t even realize, do you?" she whispers, as if the question isn’t one of malice, but of longing, of something deeper.

The smell of her overwhelms you—stale, rotting—and it fills the space between you, thickening the air. Your heart pounds in your chest, but there’s no escape. The longer she stays, the more real it feels. The more she feels like she belongs.

[babyblankyerror]

Don't mind me just thinking that as some point Stanley had an actual friend in the streets and that friend so happened to have a lot in common with him.

They are always on the move but every now and then they catch up and then, one day he finds his friend (I imagine a girl but it doesn't really matter) all...broken. Turns out they were an older sibling and they wanted to reconcile with their sibling but... heartbreakingly, they were told they were disgusting for the life they led- along with many other awful things.

(Tw suicide)

"You're my best friend, (fake name)...if that's even your name" they say and Stanley is just knelt down with them, holding his only friend close "everytime I look at you it's like looking in the mirror"

And just like that something breaks in both of them as Stanley feels his pockets empty, the familiar weight of a gun gone as his friend stands up. He's too afraid to look but the 'click' gives it away as to where the gun is.

Stanley finds himself calling their friend's name, a silent plea as he asks for the gun back-

"You're my best friend, surely you don't want me to keep suffering" they say "You, out of everyone else, should know what it's like. I've seen it, the way you eye the edge of the roof too longingly even though you're afraid of height, the revolver in your car with only a bullet-"

"There's nothing left" His friend says "one day you're going to have that little hope ripped away from you too, you know? No one cares about folks like us"

"I care about you" Stanley finds himself saying

"But it's not me who you want to care for...just like it's not you who I want to care for" it hurts but Stanley knows they're right...deep down the similarities of one another were overshadowed by the similarities of their own siblings.

Stanley watched his friend(?) press the gun to their jaw and is unable to ask them not to so instead he closes his eyes, clenches his eyelids closed so hard he sees colorful spots fly in his blackened vision.

"Look at me" a hand tugs on the back of his hair, it's so familiar and violent from hands that were so caring once that Stanley let's his eyes fly open in shock

"I want you to watch because this is going to be you one day"

"N-no.." his voice doesn't sound his, it sounds foreign and small and...helpless. The pain in his heart agrees with his friend, it aches as he is powerless against the hold on his hair and his gun, hopeless as they pull the trigger and red obscures his vision.

Everything is a little blurry and quiet apart from what was once a gentle and familiar body hitting the floor with a THUMP.

[deckedcards]

ᝰ . . . BABY DON’T LIKE IT 나쁜 짓 !

──── ❝ try being harsher to me, I can feel it babe ╱ let's play all night, don't get tired ❞

⌗ PAIRING: fukami hiroto x male! reader

⌗ SUMMARY: more than just a birthday surprise happened tonight, thanks to hiroto and his never ending jealousy.

⌗ THIS WORK INCLUDES . . . lowercase intended, third person pov, semi-fluff, sexual content, risa doesn’t exist, established relationship, general stuff for hiroto, implied love parallel (that’s right i called it parallel fuck your incorrect use of love triangle), cringy shoujo inspired romance, mentions of age gap (reader is in their early 20s while hiroto is in his early 30s), making out, amab! reader, bttm! reader, semi-jealous sex, birthday sex, soft? sex, hickies, spanking, riding, cowgirl/boy position, creampie, unmentioned unprotected sex, no lube no protection no nothing just two lovers getting their 𝓯𝓻����𝓪𝓴 on, reader puts most of the work in, handjobs (r! receiving), light swearing, smut with plot, tried to fit in comedy the way the show does it but i don’t know if i did it right, my obsession with sakurada dôri, uh.. what else, possible grammar and wording mistakes ❨ not proof read ❩

⌗ EXTRA NOTES: did not intend for this to have smut but one thing lead to another and now this exists ahaha

🃏 — don’t like? don’t read.

⸺ MIDNIGHT WAS peaking around the corner, the moon revealing itself over the city as golden hour bleed through the curtains of the office building. orange and yellows casting onto (name)’s face as he checked the time on his watch: a soft hum leaving him, biting onto his bottom lip as he waited for a specific person to show—“can’t wait to get out of here, can you?”

(name) tore his attention from the mini-clock on his wrist to the man infront of him. “oh, hansuke!” his dyed bleach blonde hair, clean dark suit and shining smile glittered in (name)’s vision, internally wincing his eyes as he looked into his amber ones; it felt like he was staring at a manhwa character everytime they hung out. (name) blinked pursing his lips, lightly punching at his shoulder with his fist. “i was waiting for you, dummy.”

hansuke gasped with a fake pout, placing a hand over his heart to emphasize how ‘hurt’ he was at his words. “dummy? that really hurts my feelings, (name).” he whined, sniffling his nostrils and bringing his hands to his eyes to wipe nonexistent tears, “you have to learn how be nicer to me… remember, i’m older than you. respect your elders or whatever.”

“by three months.” (name) refuted ignoring the last sentence that left him, twiddling with the silver ring on his left hand. a gift his boyfriend, hiroto, gave him when they first began dating. something to show everyone he was taken and a promise that the two soulmates would replace it with a wedded one once they became husbands in the future. butterflies always flew around in his stomach when he was reminded of this everytime he touched the accessory, husbands. it sounded too perfect to be real.

the man infront of him placed his hands onto his hips, raising an eyebrow flickering his gaze to the ring on his friends’ finger then back onto his face. cocking his head with an airy chuckle, “so? you’re boyfriend is older than the both of us and yet, you still treat him with respect despite him practically being a grandpa.”

(name) rolled his eyes at hansuke’s insult. “thirty isn’t old, is that really the best you can come up with?” he spat, “you’re just mad i already found someone who’ll spend the rest of their life with me while you’re sat around acting like a child.”

“am not!”

“am too!”

“am not!”

“am to—“

the duo’s yells were muffled by a hand being placed onto their mouths. sharp acrylic nails dug into the skin beside (name)’s mouth, furrowing his brows at the woman beside him. “you both are acting like a bunch of children. you guys are in your twenties yet you continue to act like my two year old nephews.”

her stern voice rang in their ears like a bell. “we’re sorry, shinju.” the muffled apologies came out of them as they smiled against her soft palm. a frustrated exhale left her lips, retracting her arms to cross infront of her chest; unbuttoned grey blazer exposing the black dress shirt she wore underneath, pencil-skirt stretching slightly as she clicked her dark heels against the marble floor of the corridor. hair decorated into a slick-bun with side bangs and a grey clip tucking any loose hair on the sides.

“it’s everyday with you two.” shinju smacked verbally, eyes narrowing looking (name) up and down behind her glasses. “what are you still doing here? i thought you went off early because you were going to surprise hiroto for his birthday.”

“i was. but, somebody told me to wait for them so they could help me with it, not letting me know before hand they were stuck late in a meeting.” (name) tilted their head repeatedly, signaling to hansuke next to him. hansuke rolled his eyes with a head shake, slapping (name) on the side of his head with his palm. “well i still made it, didn’t i? stop being such a pissy little b—”

“watch you’re language while you’re at work, hansuke.” sanju exclaimed, sending a firm glare his way with a kick to his shin. hansuke silently yelled bringing his leg up to soothe where her heel had stabbed him, lightly swaying his body back and forth to keep his balance. “you guys have always been so biased towards each other when you’re with me—agh!”

“it doesn’t matter.” the shaking words went unheard as (name) grabbed his ear, a smile sketched onto his mouth scrunching his nose slightly towards shinju hiding her laugh behind her hand. “c’mon, we have to go quickly. hiroto could be back at any minute, we’ll have little time to set up for him if we wait around any longer.”

(name) bowed his head towards shinju, reciprocating his action with a smile as she watched him drag hansuke towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. different types of protests leaving him; grabbing at (name)’s wrist with poor attempts of being freed from his grip. shinju waved her hand, cupping the side of her mouth to yell, “make sure to tell hiroto i said ‘happy birthday!’ ”

the expensiveness of hiroto’s apartment left hansuke with his mouth agape. fingers ghosting over the white furniture as he looked out the window — eyes brightening with the lights of the city illuminating the darkness of tokyo, watching cars drive up and down the streets with the front of their vehicles on. turning his figure to look at (name) setting up streamers on the wall. “i think i can see my mom’s shop from here.”

(name) let out a tiny laugh, reminding him of memories of the first time hiroto brought him here. waking up in hiroto’s bed after he made the mistake of getting drunk on their first date. his nicely-dressed clothes replaced with a baggy shirt that hung from his shoulders and shorts that rode up his thighs. fuzzy remembrance of the events before sloshed in his brain, drowsy eyes darting around the well organized room. everything looked so… valuable; stepping out to be met with the smell of coffee hitting his nostrils and hiroto standing there more handsome than how he was yesterday.

outfit the same as last night. the only difference was his light blue shirt being unbuttoned at the top to reveal his bare chest covered in markings ( were those… hickies? ) black hair slightly messy and dark slacks replaced with loose grey sweatpants. lips drawn with a gorgeous smile onto his face as he made eye contact with him.

“sorry i didn’t wake you. you looked peaceful when you were sleeping, i couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.” hiroto said, watching (name) take slow steps towards him reaching out to grab the warm cup in his hand: muttering out a small ‘thank you’ as he sipped. (name) hummed with satisfaction at the hot feeling in his mouth, licking off any excess foam the drink left inbetween his vermillion. “it’s good, isn’t it?”

hiroto leaned forward planting his hands against the counter, blinking with his lustful eyes watching (name) nod. poor attempts of avoiding any type of contact with his vision as he spoke, “you really know how to satisfy someone’s taste buds… i guess that’s why your company owns coffee and vanilla. only someone like you can make something this great.” hiroto blushed at the constant trail of complements, face flushing with a flustered laugh exiting his rosy-colored lips. “you’re too kind to me, (name)..”

his hand reached out to the others laid on the counter, carefully intertwining their fingers together. smirking seeing the way they fit perfectly against each other like sets of puzzle pieces. planting a kiss to the back of it, chapstick leaving a faint texture on it as he looked up through his curled lashes, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. “i bet you say that to all of the men you’ve slept with.”

── huh?!

(name) coughed, shaking away the thoughts of that scene from his head. soothing down any creases in the black outfit he wore, focusing his attention to hansuke; seeing him struggle with a banner on one of the walls. one side was tilting, leaving the rest to be asymmetrical whenever gazed on it. “no—hansuke, you’re placing it wrong.” without thinking, (name) separated from where he was standing with quiet footsteps upon the wooden floor as he grabbed the fabric from hansuke’s hold. “here, let me do it.”

(name) fumbled on the step stool his friend was using, extending his arms higher with the thumbtack placed between his fingers to stick the banner still. hansuke hesitated before placing his right hand on his lower back to keep him steady, left crossing from his waist to his stomach. “hands to yourself, hansuke.”

hansuke scoffed, “shush, you know i’m only doing this to keep you from cracking your skull open.” (name) rolled his eyes, cocking his head towards the banner with a faint smirk. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“there! all done.” (name) spouted checking over the cloth, tilting his torso to the side to glance and make sure it was how he wanted it to be. he crossed his arms with pride looking over to hansuke with content, “looks better than how you did it, don’t ya’ think?”

“like i would ever tell you.” he spat with annoyance in his tone, pursing his lips against each other. internally nodding at how much better the banner looked now that it was fixed better, damn it he was right. (name) planted his foot on one of the steps of the stool, the furniture wobbled horribly with his actions. tearing itself from the floor as (name) lost his stability, tumbling backwards with an unsuspecting gasp. fuck!

closing his eyes as he waited to collide with the wood, a confused grunt leaving him when the feeling never came. opening his eyes slowly, seeing he was on the floor but not in the way he expected to be in; hansuke with his arm wrapped around his waist, hand flat next to his head as their faces were inches away from each other. heavy breathing leaving the two as they connected their eyes together, (name) darted his pupils around hansuke’s features. his eyebrows were creased, cold breath leaving his lips brushing against (name)’s own.

“(name)...”

“hansuke..” (name) sputtered, furrowing his brows together feeling how numb his hands were becoming from how he balled them into fists on his chest. “get off of me—”

“please, don’t stop on my account.”

the duo ripped away from each other at the recognizable voice. the soothing vocal stream of words filled (name)’s ears as the two peered over to the figure standing at the door of the living room, hiroto; wearing his usual suit with one of his hands digging into the pockets of his slacks, glasses tipping on his sloped nose with how he glared at hansuke. loosening his tie, flickering his eyes between them and at the décor filling the room. “is this my gift? it’s definitely a surprise, if you ask me.”

“hiroto!” (name) yelled, quickly shoving hansuke beside; ignoring how he winced when he stood up. smoothing down his clothes with his ruffed palms as he stepped towards hiroto cautiously, gulping to sooth down his dry mouth, “you’re home, i—”

hiroto cut him off by grabbing his forearm and shoving him against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders without removing the jealous death stare he had towards hansuke. muffled words left (name) from inbetween his cage, gripping his fingers on hiroto’s blazer.

hansuke laughed awkwardly, rubbing his sweaty hands onto his pants to dry them. “hiroto! um, long time no see, buddy!” he exclaimed in a friendly way, fist bumping the air as he looked at him, hoping to ease the uncomfortable tension between them. “you look, as handsome as ever! heh… how ya’ been?—”

“get out of my house.”

“yes, sir.”

hansuke murmured, lowering his head when he frantically scrambled away from them, grabbing his things from the hanger near the door and slamming it behind him. (name) stiffled a smile at the scene with a breathy laugh leaving him, one that picked into hiroto’s ears, rubbing at his shoulders. “i didn’t know you were this ambitious, such a cruel birthday for me.”

(name) widened his eyes, lifting his head to meet up with hiroto’s gaze, seeing a teary-eyed shine gloss over his pupils along with furrowed brows. “no, hiroto! you’ve got it all wrong—” he stammered separating from him once he felt his arms loosening around his figure, hoisting his hands to rest at hiroto’s face, “he was just here to help me—nothing more!”

“help?” hiroto supressed a laugh, pouting his bottom lip out with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “that didn’t look like help to me.”

the shift in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by (name) as he ripped off from his lover with a look of annoyance. “don’t joke with me!” he cried, lightly punching at his chest with his knuckles. “i really thought you were mad at me for a second.” hiroto blew out air from his open-mouthed grin, tapping his chin with his index finger as he tilted his head. “but i love seeing you try to defend yourself, it’s my favorite game to play.”

hiroto grabbed at the space between (name)’s chin and lips, tugging him closer to attach their lips together. the feeling of possessiveness brushed against every connection their mouths made, changing the air in the room along with the heat pooling around their bodies sending fire to their core’s. “you know i belong to you, hiroto..”

he hummed against (name)’s lips, pressing another peck before separating, “and you know how i feel when you’re bring other men here.” hiroto whispered bending to press his mouth over (name)’s neck, biting on the skin earning an unexpected jolt over the others body. “naughty boys like you need to be punished.”

“eh, hiroto?—”

“if you want me…” hiroto grabbed at his wrists, dragging (name)’s hand to lay against his crotch. grunting at the feeling of his hand rubbing over the prominence of his bulge, the low tone in his voice made (name) ache with the warm feeling. “then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

“hiroto—ah!”

(name) yelped at the feeling of a hard smack colliding with the hot irritation of his ass, body stiffening and hands attempting to shift away from the tight grip hiroto had on it. every hit echoed in the quietness of their shared bedroom, a shadow painted across from them of the position they were in; hiroto sat on the end of the bed with half of his suit discarded on the ground, two buttons of his collar exposing the top of his chest and sleeves rolled to rest over his elbows.

and (name). half naked with his pants gone, only having his shirt cover him and his embarrassment. face flushed with heat filling his cheeks as he was bent over hiroto’s lap, torso aching at the uncomfortable sense of his thighs digging into it.

“y’know.. i think hansuke might have a crush on you.” hiroto spoke up, fingers tracing over the (name)’s tailbone. he winced, chest heaving with unstable breaths at the feeling of hiroto’s perfectly cut nails against him. “do you think he’d like seeing you like this? i know i would if i were him.”

(name) only let out a whine, lowering his head with his breath caught in his throat. “i’ve seen the way he looks at you.” he stated, “he probably wants you all to himself.” hiroto shifted their position, changing (name) from being on his lap to laying flat on their bed. running his hands over his thighs to his stiff cock, tracing his fingers from the base to the tip. “too bad, i don’t like sharing.”

hiroto faltered his movements, retracing his hand and plopping himself on the side next to (name). (name) blinked at him, sitting up on his elbows as they stared at eachother, hiroto with arousal in his gaze and (name) with confusion in his own at the change of scene. “hiroto?”

“undress me.”

“huh?”

“undress me.” hiroto repeated with a grin, “you didn’t expect the birthday boy to do all of the hard labor, did you?”

(name) felt his mouth go dry, lips agape with a small head shake of agreement. swallowing the lump in his throat as his shaking hands reached out to hiroto’s shirt, mimicking the things hiroto would do to him in his place. one by one, the buttons were removed — making hiroto shudder at the cold coming in contact with his bare chest, small kisses planted onto his faintly marked skin.

fingers drifting to rub against his nipples, soft whimpers coming out of hiroto at all of the attention being sent his way. (name) glanced at him, hands hovering over hiroto’s hard-on straining through his pants with uncertainty. “hiroto… can i?”

“when have i ever said no to you?”

(name) quickened the pace he had in unzipping hiroto’s pants — revealing his aching cock, the tip pink and pretty with small bits of precum leaking from it. hiroto smirked, watching (name) straddle over him with his knees planted next to his hips; hovering over his cock as he pressed his hands down onto his abdomen. “there’s no need to rush, we have all the time in the world.” hiroto said dragging his hands down his stomach in a teasing manner.

the two let out quick moans once (name) had lowered himself, grabbing hiroto’s cock to fit perfectly inside him — lightly stretching him open with how tight he was, “fuck.” (name) whined shoving himself up and down, hitting the spot that his dick was somehow able to reach everytime; it was like every part of hiroto was molded just for him. chest heaving at every bit of pleasure sending signals around his body, tiny squelching sounds filling their ears from hiroto’s dripping cum filling (name)’s insides.

“c’mere.” hiroto sat up, grabbing the back of (name)’s head to bring him into a open-mouthed kiss; their tongues drifting around in the others, saliva mixing together with no seem of breaking. hiroto rubbing at (name)’s own, his cock filling his hand as he jerked him off with movements repeating how he rode on his dick,

“perfect f’me.” he moaned during pecks, strings of the liquid melting in their mouths connecting to their lips. (name) whimpered wrapping his arms onto hiroto’s shoulders, arching his back as he deepened their kiss; not caring of the fight their lungs were making for air as they felt intoxicated by each other, nothing else mattered but them. “yeah, all for you.”

the sound of cars driving by and beeping for whatever reason didn’t phase the duo, being with each other was all they need. no ounce of care left in their bodies to disturb them, nothing about the situation with hansuke filled their memories either, just the tension and jealous-filled decisions that turned into nothing but love. how long have they going at this for? it felt likes hours have gone by, yet the time on the clock was still the same. the coil in (name)’s stomach was loosening, a snap reaching out to overcome him as he furrowed his brows. “ah!—hiroto… hiroto!-“

“i know— me too, me too..”

hiroto latched onto his throat like a vampire, biting down on the fresh hickey he had left there earlier; body spasming with cum spurting out of his cock, painting (name)’s walls white with excess dripping out slightly as (name) continued to move onto him at a faster speed. his own release coming out of his irritated tip, the liquid staining the middles of the two like messy artwork as they panted. hiroto resting his head into the side of (name)’s neck, pushing his cheek against it and licking at his puffed lips enjoying the leftover silence entering the room.

(name) treaded his fingers through hiroto’s slightly knotted up hair, pressing lazy kisses to his scalp not realizing ( or caring that ) his cock was still stuck inside him with his cum leaking out of hole. he readjusted his posture, eyes brightening as a smile stretched across his face, separating hiroto from his neck with a gentle tug. “i almost forgot—” hiroto raised a brow at the removal of warmth, humming in confusion seeing the bright grin spread onto (name)’s face. tilting his head to the side, waiting for what was next as he admired his features.

“shinju says happy birthday. ”

a/n: blah blah blah… that boy is mine blah blah blah… i love sakurada dôri… ( fucking cringe this is bad ok bye you can leave now how the hell do you write smut happy valentines day )

(creds to czennies_assemble)

© @deckedcards 2025 all rights reserved ☆ please do not repost, translate, copy or share my work on other platforms without my permission, thank you.

[ivystoryweaver]

Perfect Fit Volume 3 (with poll)

Read Volume 2 || Perfect Fit Masterlist

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Will the real human please stand up

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) Nathan Bateman should be warning enough

Content/Warnings: not beta'd, violence, tw self-harm, blood, angst, sci-fi horror elements, gaslighting, language, soft Nathan

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PREVIOUSLY on "Perfect Fit"

"It's okay, sweetheart. Look..." Nate reaches for the knife embedded in Nathan's stomach. Instead of yanking it out, he cuts deeper, dragging the knife across his abdomen, all while you scream for him to stop.

A wave of nausea roils throughout your body as he peels back a bloody layer of skin to reveal...machinery.

In fact, past the initial layer of skin, there's not much blood at all.

Your vision blurs and the world goes black.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You come to in Nathan's bed. Haunting gray light filters in through the skylight, the rhythmic patter of rain soothing you, even as thunder rumbles in the distance.

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you swallow thickly, parched with thirst. Pushing off the bed, you try to steady yourself before glancing around to make sure you're alone. Of course, with video cameras everywhere, you're never truly alone.

You tiptoe to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping to clear your head so you can think.

"Feeling better?" Nathan...or someone in the shape of Nathan voices from right behind you.

Shrieking in surprise, the glass slips from your hand, shattering on the kitchen floor. Backing away slowly, you flinch when Nathan reaches for your elbows to steady you.

"Careful, babydoll, don't step on that."

"Don't touch me," you hiss, barely dodging the glass as you jerk away from him and put some distance between the two of you.

His hands shoot up in a surrendering pose. "I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. You know this."

"I don't know," you whisper, your previous horror returning full force. "I don't even know who you are!"

Calling your name, he sidesteps the glass and reaches for you once more.

"Please...just let me go home," you plead. "I don't want to do this anymore."

He stops then, adjusting his glasses which have slipped down to the end of his nose before his hands land on his hips. "Home? You are home."

"No," you whimper, backing further away, shaking your head emphatically. "You can't keep me here. I'm going home. I have...friends. Family."

Nathan relaxes, folding his arms over the breadth of his chest as a sadistic smile turns up the corners of his mouth.

"I've done it," he chuckles, mostly to himself. "Holy shit, I've actually done it."

"W-what?" You ask him, dreading the answer.

Wetting his lips, he doesn't deny you what you seek. "You care about me, don't you? Maybe even love me?"

Pressing your mouth closed tightly, you remain silent, hoping he will explain.

"Even if you don't, you have to know how I feel about you...right?"

Taking two bold steps toward you, he grips your arm. But before you can scream or try to escape his grasp, he presses down on your wrist as if pushing a button. Sliding his thumb down to your thumb, he moves the digit in a counterclockwise position.

At that moment, your skin...opens. But there's no blood. No cut. It simply lifts away from your body. Nathan pushes the skin upward, like a panel covering circuitry. And it is. There, underneath your skin: metal, gears, wires.

Even though you feel no pain, you moan out a desperate, horrified cry.

"Shh, it's okay," he attempts, but you interrupt him, once more demanding to know what he's done to you.

"When did you do this?" You cry. "What did you do to my arm?"

"Sweetheart, it's not just your arm." He nods up and down your whole body.

You pass out again.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You come to in Nathan's bed.

Nathan sits in a chair in the corner, hand toying with his beard, simply watching you.

As your bleary eyes blink open, he holds your gaze, dark eyes shifting in what might appear to be concern. But you know better.

Realization hits you like a freight train and you gasp, yanking up your sleeve to check your arm for wires or circuitry. You sit upright in bed, touching yourself all over, trying to figure out...

"What did you do? What happened to my arm?" You demand, scrambling to the other side of the bed and standing up. "Did you make me pass out or something?" Maybe something worse. Maybe he...shut you down.

"Oh god, oh my god," you moan, fighting your apparent reality, the shock of it forcing you to double over, bracing yourself on the bed with both arms extended.

"Sweetheart, it's okay, calm down." Nathan rises and eases toward you slowly, hands held in a supplicating fashion.

You shrink away, horrified.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He eases down on the edge of the bed as you collapse there beside him.

"Why?" You wail, burying your face "Why did you do this?"

A wrinkle forms between his eyes as his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "You mean, stab Nate? You're worried about him." It's not really a question, "Babydoll, he's being repaired, he's fine."

"What is wrong with you?" You whimper, thrusting your arm toward him. "Show me again. Show me whatever the fuck I am."

Holding your gaze steadily, Nathan slowly reaches for your arm, brushing his fingers along your skin. You flinch at first, horrified by the notion that he'll reveal the machinery that lies beneath.

"It's okay," he says so softly, he almost sounds sweet. "Nothing's wrong with your arm. You're okay. Does it hurt?"

Your face crumples as you jerk your arm away. Swiping at falling tears, you wonder what kind of a mad genius Nathan had to be to create you - to invent a being with such emotions, who could cry and be nauseated at the thought of your own existence. Climbing off the bed, you back toward the door before bolting suddenly toward the kitchen.

Nathan's athletic build and peak conditioning should allow him to catch you in no time, but he doesn't quite make it before you locate a steak knife. Slamming your arm down on the kitchen counter, palm up, you rake the razor sharp metal across your flesh. Crying out in pain, you gasp as your flesh opens, warm, fresh blood flowing all over your arm and pooling on the counter.

"Jesus," Nathan hisses, wrenching the knife from you hand and tossing it into the sink. Gripping your arm, he helps you raise it up in the air with one hand while reaching for the nearest kitchen towel with the other. "What the fuck are you doing?" He wraps the towel around the cut, as tight as you can stand it. Tighter, even, restricting the flow of blood, despite your wail of horror at the searing pain.

Your body shakes with sobs, and you're barely able to stand. As Nathan secures your arm, you collapse against him. He gingerly eases you down to the floor, his back supported by the cupboard, pulling you against his chest, rocking you gently.

"You can go home," he utters in a choked whisper. "You didn't have to...fuck - you didn't have to..."

"Just show it to me," you sniffle after several minutes. "Show me what I am, just show me." Your eyes blink up at him so brokenly, big, heavy tears rolling out of the corners.

Nathan touches his forehead to yours. "Show you what, sweetheart?"

"That I'm a machine," you whimper, twisting his soft white t-shirt in your unwounded hand. "What you showed me before."

Shaking his head, he pulls back. "What the fuck? You're not...why would you say something like that?"

"I fucking hate you," you seethe, attempting, but failing to twist away from him, "Stop fucking lying!" You pound your fist on his chest. "You showed me - there are wires in my arm!"

"No, baby. No." His dark eyes soften, as soulful and serious as you've ever seen them. "You've been asleep for hours. You passed out, so I put you to bed. I took Nate downstairs and started running diagnostics and repairs. I came back to check on you thirty minutes later and you've been asleep ever since," he explains. "You woke up asking what happened to your arm. I think you had a nightmare."

"Another trick," you cry, too overwhelmed to fight him anymore.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he insists. "There's nothing wrong with your arm, except that now there's a huge fucking cut. Which we need to get stitched up."

He gives you a moment to let his words sink in before attempting to gently haul you up to your feet. "Come on. I'll take you downstairs. I'll show you that Nate's okay and we'll clean up your arm and stitch it up."

"No," you whimper, twisting away from him. "If I'm...real, then take me to a hospital. Take me now."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stares you down for a full thirty seconds before finally granting you a nod. "Okay. But it'll take some time. I have to call for the chopper and we both need warm clothes." He motions to your arm. "I need to wrap that up tight so you don't fucking bleed out."

You can go downstairs with him and possibly be trapped forever. Or you can depend on him to fly you out of here. Either way, you have to trust him.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Since this IS a choose your own adventure, after all...

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan Bateman masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[sulfies]

If I Lead (pt 6)

part 5 here

Oh, he was fucked. 

He was utterly fucked and he was going to reap what he sowed.

What was he thinking really? Staying in the town THE MAN OWNED, expecting not to be found.

Of course, he was going to show up in Ezio’s vision! Any normal person with a brain would check a person in a tower that is supposed to be closed off!

He thought he was safe when Ezio didn't even glance at his way when he walked by the training rounds… Then when they locked eyes he turned around with no question on his face, Desmond had thought…

He had clearly thought wrong.

He slid down back to his blankets… his hands on his face he groaned loudly. He was so fucking stupid!

His fists slid to his hair and pulled, shaking his head he breathed deeply.

He couldn't even skip towns now because Ezio would fucking find him! He didn't need his threats to know he could!

“Shit, shit, shit”

He wanted to scream, how much more suspicious could he be really? He knew Ezio didn't buy his answers and he didn't try too hard to sell them either. No matter what he came up with he would look suspicious.

What was he supposed to say; ‘I am binding my time till I can get to the Piece of Apple before you, oh also you don't even know what that is yet but you will very soon?’

He was lucky Ezio didn't even try to kill him…

At least that probably meant he didn't show up as red, because why else would he not press for answers in other ways? Now he was basically in a house arrest so maybe death would have made things easier.

He should have left the place the moment he realized where and when he was… He should have walked and walked till he got as far as he could go. But no, he ‘had’ to stay in fucking Monteriggioni, he just ‘had’ to wait till he got funds, he ‘had’ to have a horse as if he couldn't make it work on foot before in the FUCKING APOCALIPSE.

One of his hands slammed on the wall behind him, the pain and shock clearing some of the fog away from his head.

He would get out the moment Ezio left back for Venice. He could and would not stay in Monteriggioni, he knew that for sure. Ezio had bigger worries than a strange man in his town.

He still had a chance to fix this fuck-up.

He would stay outside of Venice, live in the forest outside the gates if he had to. Would wait for the time the ship would get to the dock away from any eyes. 

If Ezio had time to track him in between all his bullshit then he would….Well, not kill him. He couldn't do that nor wanted to… but he figured, with all the Animus doping, he could get away with a broken bone or two on both sides.

He gazed up, his fist was tingling in time with his heartbeats. Desmond let a long breath out, then back in.

He had to wait for Ezio to leave Monteriggioni once again for his mission… If his Animus memories were right, He never stayed long in town during visits. 

He just had to wait for his opening.

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

He could feel Ezio’s eyes on him.

From the moment He, Vincenzo and the recruits made it to the training grounds he felt the hairs on his neck stand tall.

One quick glimpse with his vision showed that, yes… Ezio was watching him from the manor. 

So this is how it was going to be.

His shoulders slumped as he tried to ignore looking at the window Ezio was standing behind, keeping his eyes on the general location of the training group of mercenaries. 

He could see five more mercenaries than he knew were there. His bleeds were usually just ghosts of figures in the corner of his eyes at this point, but since yesterday they were a bit more in the front. Stress tended to make them worse and calling yesterday stressful didn't even cut it.

“Now, Don’t you look chipper today?”

Desmond groaned “Don't start Vincenzo…”

“What? You look like something crawled up your ass.”

Desmond waved his hand in a go-away motion but knew it wouldn't deter Vincenzo. The other man leaned his hip on the railing. He just kept staring at the imaginary men swinging their swords near the others. The silence only lasted a few more seconds.

“Apparently, our midday patrol has been increased to cover the area after the mills also…”

Desmond looked to his side at Vincenzo with a hum. “Did you finally tell Marsilio about my concern then?” 

“As if I’d let you make more work for us.” He clicked his tongue. “No, we have the king of the land to thank for this…”

“Oh…” Desmond chewed on his lip. Guess Ezio had the same idea as him. It would be easy for bandits to learn their patrol zones and camp just a bit more far ahead to hide if they kept on going around the same area. “Bet Marsilio wasn’t so happy about that.”

“You don't say… He has been a bitch to talk with, Ser Ezio has been driving him mad. All the ass-kissing he did to Ser Mario has been dusted over.”

Desmond sighed and leaned on the railings. “Well, It's not like…”

Vincenzo cut him off “Oh sod off, don't start at your lectures. You are always happy to take on more work” His voice took on a mocking tone.

“Great, I don't even need to add anything to this conversation then” Desmond grumbled. “An hour or so extra added to the patrols won't kill them…”

Vincenzo mirrored his pose on the railing and wiped his face with a palm. “Sure, sure. But this isn't the King’s army we are leading here, is it? Nothing ever happens around here.” 

Desmond gave him one of his usual hums which got a sideways grin back from the man. “God, you are such an uptight asshole.”

Desmond smiled back at him tiredly “I know” 

This was a regular topic of bickering/disagreement between him and the rest of them. The Others found his standing on this kind of stuff…cute, for the lack of a better word. He usually stayed in his lane, aware of his rank and place in the order and never spoke his mind fully, but something did slip every now and then.

Maybe it was because of his tone or how he got things done fast when he was asked but they didn't get too mad when they heard his ‘annoying’ opinions on how the mercenaries conducted their business in Monteriggioni. They just ignored his quips and chalked it up to him being too uptight or paranoid… though on rare occasions, they actually did listen to him.

Like, last week Vincenzo finally letting him add some extra moves into their training routine that would build up the men's stamina.

“You will come with us to the tavern tonight, yes?”

Desmond huffed “Like I have a choice, Angelo said he would get Marsilio to dock my pay if I refused.”

Vincenzo let a loud laugh. “Because he knows your sore ass needs to relax a bit. Also, he and the others enjoy your company.”

He knew they did, he would go along with their jokes with the help of his old bartender glamour, give some basic advice to their youthful worries and redirect questions as much as he could with a put-on wit but it was not fun for him.

He didn't want to talk about what young maiden they screwed over at the brothel this week or the fight they had with their wife last night. He was really regretting all the charm he turned on when he first got the job, maybe he should have faked being mute or something.

He looked up in the direction of the manor, knowing he was still being watched.

Too late for that now.

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

To his delight, Ezio did not bother him during training or the mid-day patrol. 

But that didn't mean he could catch a break.

He saw the golden glow still stalk his vision from up on the walls of the gate and during the new rounds the man around him refused to stop complaining, finding companionship in their shared misery their mouths worked more than usual and the combination of it all was getting on Desmond’s nerves.

Once they made their way back he stood by the side of the gate with his bow and quiver, waiting till everyone dispersed back to the barrack or homes. Checking with his sight he saw no sign of Ezio, so he decided to take advantage of this time of rest without his warden.

He made his way out to the forests he hunted at for the past month and a half, turning on his vision he walked around a bit till he found some tracks belonging to a sizeable game.

Thanks to Connor he had a very easy time tracking any kind of animal he needed and knew just what to do. 

It had been the most useful after the flare.

He liked hunting.

It calmed him and was not too far away from what he did back at his camp regularly.

It was mainly his job to bring food back to the commune they had. When their rations first ran out, Shaun had made a rule for them quickly; You could not hunt unless you were sure there were two others of it that could continue the circle of life. 

Each year it got easier to find a third one out of a couple and after two decades they could finally hunt without worrying too much about the damage their arrows could be doing to the numbers.

They even had a small group of survivors who did hunting trips in a group after Rebecca got him to teach some of them how to supply more food to their growing numbers.

Desmond kneeled next to the track of hoofprints he found, turning on his sight he followed the golden trail that appeared before him slowly. Stopping every now and then to refocus on the glow.

When he finally got the deer in his sights he kneeled behind a nearby bush very slowly and moved his bow up. 

It was standing between two trees, eating with no notice of Desmond's presence.

He breathed in and out, drawing the string he focused keeping his hand steady and aiming for the vitals.

He gave a short whistle to catch its attention and at the same time let his string go. The arrow struck the poor thing right in its main artery as it whipped its head around to look at his way, collapsing on the ground the next second with a sad mewl.

He got up and went near his prize as he sheathed his bow over his shoulder. 

Kneeling next to the animal, he drew his dagger from his side and made a quick work to end the misery of it with one stab. He pulled out the arrow from the side of its neck and started to maneuver the deer into position so he could skin it comfortably. 

Just a few seconds after he started his process he heard the grass behind him get crushed under deliberately loud footsteps.

He did his best to not roll his eyes. Looked like recess was over.

“Nice shot…”

Desmond ignored the man behind him. Focusing on the task in his hands.

“I know hunters with decades behind their belts that can't pull off a clean shot like that.”

Desmond made quick work with his blade, tearing the skin apart from the muscle with each cut. 

A shadow fell over him and the animal. He could see Ezio stepping next to him from the side of his vision. 

An impressed whistle rang in the air “Damn, you are fast.”

Desmond held his sigh in and shook his head. Rolling the animal over he continued his work.

“You know silent treatment won't make me quit my questions. I can stay here till you answer, I rather enjoy watching this process you are doing, I'm not much of a hunter myself.”

With that comment, Desmond let the sigh he was holding go. Was Ezio this much of a talker before?

He could see the young assassin grinning out of the corner of his eye.

He continued with his work, tearing the last bit of pelt away from the animal's body and shaking it out. He rolled it up and got a piece of rope out from his belt loops to tie it.

As his hands worked, He saw Ezio’s mouth open to say something again. Desmond cut in “My answers won't change much from yesterday ser Ezio”

Ezio turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“We both know the answers you gave me last night were bullshit.”

Desmond pressed his lips in a thin line.

“Are you a hunter or something as your main trade?”

Desmond tied the pelt onto the deer with the rest of the rope for easy carry.

“No, I’m just used to hunting for food.”

“Is this another one of your methods to ‘save’ money?”

Ezio was always fast at connecting dots together.

Desmond got up and grabbed the deer by its legs. Ezio stepped back as he hauled the animal onto his shoulders, the pelt facing the side that was touching his back. 

“Your silence just confirms my questions.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. 

Still ignoring him, started walking back and Ezio followed on his tail. They were quite a bit far from the gates and he knew Ezio would not drop his interrogation anytime soon.

“Where in Florance do you hail from Ser Domenico? Maybe my family knew of you.”

He gritted his teeth “They wouldn't. Grew up in the streets.”

“How convenient…” Desmond snorted, what a crazy answer to say to someone telling you they were homeless as a kid. It was a lie, but still…

“What will you do in Venice?”

“I told you, my wife is waiting for me, taking care of her sick mother.”

He heard Ezio huff in frustration at his answers. Good… Now they were both equally annoyed. Maybe he would put a rest in this back-and-forth game then.

“What did you do before coming here?”

“Joined the daily patrol around the village…”

“You know that's not what I asked.”

Desmond bit back with sarcasm “Is it not? My apologies Sir”

He suddenly got yanked back, dropping the deer onto the grass with the shock of it. Before he could shout in surprise, Ezio was in his face.

“I'd like to think I am being extremely charitable here to your attitude Ser Domenico, but my kindness does have its limits.” He took a step towards him.

“I deserve some real answers and some respect. You are in my land, clearly after something that concerns me!”

Desmond clenched his fist as he looked at the deer on the ground, what gave Ezio the right to pull him around like that. 

He just wanted to leave this place and if it was not for Ezio he would have already been gone first thing in the morning and if it was not for the apple he would not even been here in the first place!

He lived through all of this once he didn’t need a second time! At least back then Animus was merciful enough to skip the empty bits and teleport him to where Ezio needed to be. 

He thought he was done with this ‘time’, that he had put all of this period of people behind him. Done with everything that happened in the literal past and tasked to protect his present but now once again he was sucked right back in.

He did not want to do all of this all over again! He had people to take care of; Shaun was waiting for the data of his findings, and Rebecca was going to get his help with her new project once he had made it back. They had to fix a leak in their communal eating hut, he had promised to get to it soon and he wanted to be there to complete his other obligations he never got to before he left.

There were meetings he had to hold, conversations he had put off and many more tasks he thought he would get to complete once he was back…

But all of this was taken away from him in a second just when he finally started to make some things right. 

“Not everything is about you.” Spat Desmond and He felt the anger bubble beneath his skin. 

It was always the apples, always his ancestors, all his actions always had to tie back to them! 

His eyes were still stuck on the deer on the floor. Why was it always only him who got yanked around. Why pull him here? To help him run away from his mistakes after so long? To punish him?

Ezio let out a scoff, shocked by the audacity thrown in his face.

“You cannot be serious! Your whole demeanour screams that it has something to do with me. What innocent men would speak the way you do?” He pointed at his face, teeth bared in anger. “I should end you right at this moment for even daring to act this way.”

Whipping his head to look at him straight in the eyes Desmond sneered back in frustration “If I had any ill will towards you, if I was going to do anything here, wouldn't I have already done it before you came back?”

“Then tell me your goal! Do I have to fucking torture you to get you to talk, you bastard?” Ezio pushed him slightly, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Why the fuck are you here? What Is your goal?!”

Both refused to part their sight from one another for a long time.

Desmond's shoulders were tense and drawn back, his right hand ready to draw back in a moment's notice to throw its weight to a target and Ezio’s wrist was flexing by his side, debating if he should just end this hassle with one swipe.

If this continued, blood was going to be drawn and that realization gave a pause to Desmond's running thoughts.

The figure meeting his eyes looked so young now that he was looking at him head-on, compared to last night's candlelit view. Ezio’s lips were in a tight line, his eyes had a flame behind them. Desmond noticed he never had gotten to see Ezio from this point of view before.

He only ever witnessed him from Ezio’s own eyes.

Shrugging his shoulders down, Desmond leaned back in defeat. 

This wasn’t the 50-year-old mentor he last remembered. Barely a decade had passed since his biggest tragedy, his hands were still freshly stained with blood, still in his quest for revenge. Ezios outfits glitched before his eyes for a second, scrolling through the different phases of his life he had yet to get.

“Are you going to speak?!”

Desmond closed his eyes and held his hand out in a stop. Breathing in and out for a couple of seconds as blood rushed through his ears. His other hand massaged his temple. Shit, maybe he was being a bit unfair to him. He was supposed to be the grown-up… 

Ezio didn't know shit yet, he didn't know what tragedies awaited him and here he was being another reason for stress in his life when he came back to take a rare break from all the crazy that was going on back in Venice.

“Alright…Fuck, okay fine… I'll talk.” He opened his eyes to see Ezio with his hands on his hips, his eyebrows crossed with a slight look of concern.

Desmond wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, licking his lips nervously. 

“Look, I’m- I’m being truthful when I tell you I am not here to harm you or the people here.” He continued after taking a breath “I need to get to Venice…But no wife is waiting for me there.” 

He placed his hand on his chest. “My goals have nothing to do with yours, bad or good it will not affect your life…there is…a ship with a special delivery I need to board when it arrives.” 

Hopefully, when he did, He could just touch the apple like before and appear in that cave where he committed his stupidest mistake like nothing ever happened.

He looked at Ezio with earnest eyes “I am just trying to get back to my people, and I need to get to Venice to do that.”

Ezio shifted his weight on one leg, his eyes roamed around for a few seconds. Tolling over what to say. The anger from before slightly died down in his tone after Desmond’s talk.

“Your people… Why are you even here then?”

Desmond didn't lie in his answer “I have no fucking idea.”

“What?” 

He gave a soft smile. “I have no idea how I got here or why I am here.”

Ezio thought over his answer. “No idea how? You lost your memory or something?”

Desmond just looked at him “No, I remember everything before but I have no memory of ever stepping foot in Monteriggioni by my own will.”

“Cazzo… I…” He tilted his head, then turned away in confusion “I can’t believe I am even entertaining what you said as an answer. You barely have given me more than the lies you have spat before… I just have more questions than answers.”

Desmond sighed. Ezio was right, he knew that. But he could not speak of the apple yet and he did not want to anyway. It was too late to get Ezio off his back but he needed to give the man something for him to at least get out of this house arrest.

He was going to regret what he said next…

“I am an assassin.”

Ezio turned back at him so fast, he looked like he almost gave himself a whiplash.

Desmond held up his hands “I swear to you, that is true.”

Ezio squinted his eyes, his face full of distrust. “All your lies… I will not treat you kindly if this is one of them.”

“I am not lying, not about this.” Desmond shook his head. “Look…” He started to roll up his right arm sleeve.

Most of the mercenaries chose to roll them up above their biceps except for him, for two reasons: One, he did not want the tattoo on his left arm to be a talking point or a reason for recognition and two…

“A hidden blade…” Ezio’s hand grabbed his wrist to look closer at the mechanism strapped to his wrist.

It had quite the wear and tear but Shaun and Rebecca had helped him with its upkeep all these years. The leather straps had flaked on some of the edges and the metal plate holding the blade was less shiny than it was before, but the blade was still as sharp as ever and it slid out with the ease it should.

Ezio moved Desmond's hand to activate the blade a couple of times, eyes looking at all the different details, taking in the more simplistic design it had than his blades.

Desmond stood there as his arm was turned over under Ezios hands, his fingers touching every part of the bracer strapped on his arm, he was not used to this much skinship…

He coughed and Ezio politely let his arm go, stepping back he looked over Desmond with a more calculating gaze. “Why not just say all this at the start? We could have avoided all this-” 

Desmond rolled his sleeve down as he spoke over “I told you… my mission is separate from yours. I am not here for you or anyone else, I am just trying to get back.”

Ezio’s focused back on the cuff that hid his hidden blade. Silent for a few seconds before he spoke. “I thought I was the only Assassin left in Italy.”

Desmond wrinkled his nose in pity. Nearly half of Ezio’s closest allies were one but the others would not reveal themselves for a long while. Which was a decision he never understood before… They trusted him enough to take on their biggest mission but not enough to let him know the full truth. 

That was a parallel they shared together in their lives.

“Sadly, I am not an Italian Assassin.”

Ezio furrowed his brows “What do you mean? Aren’t you from Florence?” as soon as he said it he thought the answer on his own. “But your accent… Where are you from then?”

Desmond scratched his beard. He had already told too much. “Far West…”

“I am never going to get full answers from you am I?”

Desmond smiled back as an answer and Ezio gave a defeated sigh. “Fuck, fine… I feel like Father is probably turning over in his grave seeing the grace I am giving you.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at Desmond with a new shine in his eyes.

“You are not off the cuff yet by the way. You still cannot leave this place in the middle of the night before I figure out what to do with you.”

Great so nothing had changed for him…

“But I will permit you to leave with me to Venice when I go back. I’ll accompany you till you get where you need to be.”

Desmond’s eye twitched and his smile dropped. That was fucking worse.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Morality Gap

Marvel | Starker

Peter didn't seem interested in Tony's new, superior form. But with a few modifications, the sonic taser was perfected to work even on super spiders.

Rating: Explicit

For this prompt

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: noncon, dark fic, sim!Tony, temporary paralysis, dehumanization and humiliation, crying, fear kink, possessiveness, rough sex, spit as lube

A shrill, horrifying, sound cut into his ears. His hands flew up to cover them, but in seconds those arms went limp. His whole body did. He fell, knees buckling, but he didn't get far before he was scooped up and off of his feet.

He looked up at the ceiling. In the corner of his vision was Tony and he was grinning ear to ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It's not permanent. Hurts though, doesn't it?" He carried him through the apartment. Peter's heart raced, but for all the adrenaline in his system, he still couldn't move. Why couldn't he move?

"It took some tweaking to make sure I had it right," he continued as he walked. "Your super healing, those spider-like reflexes, one tiny mistake and it wouldn't work. I've never had somebody turn me down before and I wasn't going to start now." He chuckled as if they were both in on some joke.

Tony laid him down in his bed. His body flopped uselessly like a rag doll. Tony adjusted him how he wanted him. Then stood over him, eyes skimming his body with greed.

"You're too moral." He pouted. "Maybe the old Tony, the weaker me could have had you. But he never would have asked." He started to unbutton his shirt.

"Between the age gap and the mentorship and Pepper," he scoffed. He slipped the shirt down from his shoulders and unbuttoned the sleeves. Then he tossed the shirt neatly into the hamper. He crawled up the bed from the bottom until he leaned over him. Peter felt suffocated.

"You want me." His fingers dragged down Peter's body from his collarbone to his hip. He shuddered. That hand clamped down on his hip, squeezing. He glared at him, mouth in an unmatched smirk, a look of violent possession. "You're mine. I've only made it easier for the both of us."

He reached up again. This time his fingers pressed the emblem on his chest. He hadn't realized before that the suit would respond to Tony's touch as well. Why would he even think about it? The material obediently expanded away from his skin and allowed itself to be pulled down, right off his feet. Tony tossed it away like it was trash.

His hands were greedy all over his body. Groping his chest, his waist, his ass, and thighs. Tony licked his lips.

"I considered drugging you, but I want you to watch this, feel it, remember it. I'm going to ruin you, baby. No one else will ever touch you with your mind comparing them to me and we both know that no one can compare." He grinned with his perfect white teeth and a gleam in his eyes.

Tony bent his knees and pushed his legs apart. His eyes stung in embarrassment and betrayal. He couldn't see what Tony was doing, but he could feel his hands rubbing his thighs. Then he touched his cock. His hand was violating and cold. Like a doctor's exam. He rubbed and fondled him until, to his shame, he felt himself getting hard.

"That's my good boy," Tony purred. He stuck a finger in his mouth and pulled it out wet. Peter felt it rubbing against his hole. A tear finally fell from his eye.

"You're gonna be so good for me aren't you? You can't really do anything else," Tony laughed. He pushed his finger inside. It felt strange and violating, but as he wiggled it around it felt undeniably good even though that did nothing to make it better. "Such a perfect little fuck hole you've got here. Tight and hot. My device really did you in good, though, didn't it? Not even an involuntary response. Lucky you. That means you're going to stretch right open for me."

He could just see him in her periphery, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants. He was so perfectly vulnerable while Tony remained fully covered, everywhere but the cock in his fist. Tony slapped it against his hip.

"I'm not small, either, but I've always taken you for a size queen," he teased. Something blunt and big touched his hole. He would have sworn it was his fist.

"I thought about lube," Tony continued to talk to himself. "But you're going to open up so easily and a little friction never bothered me. Of course you'll probably bleed a bit. I'll make sure you're good and sore tomorrow. As always, I've thought it all through."

He spit and Peter felt it drip between his cheek. Tony rubbed his cock in it, then he pushed against his opening. Peter stared at the ceiling above, silently screaming as he was violated. It wasn't the most painful thing he'd experienced by a mile. The trouble was Tony's look of satisfaction as he penetrated him, the humiliation that twisted in his belly, the terror of being completely helpless. Tony grabbed his thighs and pulled him back on it. He moaned as Peter's ass met his pelvis.

"Perfect," he sighed. "You're the perfect fleshlight." Peter bounced like he was weightless on Tony's cock. The man stared down at him like he was starving. When he got tired of bouncing him like a toy, he leaned over him, bracing himself on his arms. His face filled Peter's vision and he was unable to look away. The pleasure on his face was horrible. The way his cheeks were flushed and his pupils were wide. A satisfied grinned stretched his lips as he looked into Peter's unblinking eyes and pushed deep into his gut.

He spoke gently as if they were lovers. "It must be awful being unable to move when what you really want is to wrap your legs around my waist."

He stopped his relentless assault only to push his cock in as deep as it would go and roll his hips there, fucking the deepest part of him. It hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't so much as squirm. He'd never felt so terrified or so trapped.

"It must feel amazing. You're so lucky for the man of your dreams to be your first." Peter wasn't even sure if he was taunting him anymore or if he meant that. He didn't feel lucky. He felt violated. Betrayed. He willed his body to move and nothing responded. He felt heavy and limp. The inability to move only made the pain and friction that much worse with nothing else to focus on.

"You're such a pretty thing, too. You couldn't be more perfect if I made you, myself." Tony's fingers brushed lovingly down the side of his face. His hand pushed into his hair, tugging lightly at the roots. He grabbed Peter's leg under the knee and bent his leg back nearly to his chest. The position, his tender touch, it was nauseatingly intimate. Not to mention, he was carelessly pushing his flexibility to the limit without any way for Peter to tell him that it hurt. He wouldn't care if it did and that made him feel sick just as well.

"You're almost hard, too. Look at that." He picked up Peter's cock between his fingers and let it slap back down against his belly. "You really are loving this, fucking slut. Don't worry, I won't force you to cum. I'm gonna leave you hard and wet, until you beg me for it. You won't want it any other way after this."

Tears welled in his eyes as he felt Tony cum inside him. He moaned luxuriously, clearly mocking him by the smirk on his lips.

"What a good cum dump you've been. Maybe next time you could do more than lay there, kid." He patted Peter's thigh before laying his legs back down on the bed. Then he flipped him over. He lifted his hips and grabbed a pillow, stuffing it underneath him so his ass was lifted. "Wouldn't want to make a mess, would we?"

He left the bed. Peter couldn't see him. He couldn't see anything but the wall. He listened to him get dressed, wishing he would finally leave or his body would finally move.

"I'll leave you alone with your thoughts," Tony said "I'm sure you won't want me around when you recover. It'll be too much for your mind. Don't worry, I won't tease you when you come asking me for it. Well, only a little."

The door closed behind him. Sometime later, Peter regained the ability to wiggle his fingers, but it was hours before he could walk again.

[cookie-gal]

An EPIC Oneshot

There are other ways~

(Slight spicy implications warning)

"-Everyone's true colors are revealed in acts of lust"

"I'm not sure if I follow."

The doors of the bedroom trapped Odysseus inside with her, he suddenly felt immensely vulnerable despite having his sword out in his pointing at his witchy foe he still felt wrong...

"There are ways of persuasion.. there are other modes of control~"

Circe smiled smugly, she snapped her fingers magically making her hair longer and making her dress very thin. She lowered Odysseus' sword and gripped his hands making Odysseus feel more uncomfortable. Lack of confidence or control.

"Awh, you have so much left to learn~"

"What.. Wh-what are you..."

Why..Why am I shaking so much?

The seductive enchantress got up in his face making his uneasiness feel worse making him, feel hot and sweat. She wrapped her arms around his neck, "trapping" him making only look at her and only her.

"Want to save your men from the fire, show me what you're willing to burn~"

She lifted the miserable man's head making him face her once more, eye-to-eye. She pulled him making the two of them head towards a nearby bed. Circe falls fluidly on the bed as Odysseus pins her down, his hands start to tremble as Circe slowly made pulls one of his hand and puts it on her chest.

What am I doing?? I can't do this! I can't do THIS!

At this point he knew what she wanted, but he didn't want to given into her demands he wanted to back away or run away but he couldn't if he really wanted to save his comrades. His mind starts to spiral up as he started to think about her

Penelope I'm so sorry!

How would his wife think of this? What would she think of him killing a innocent infant, How would she react to learning that half of his comrades and best friend were killed by a Cyclops, how would she react to some of them also drowning to their deaths? And especially now how would she feel about him sleeping with this enchanted mistress?

2

His thoughts starts twisting inside him, pretty much breaking him as he tries to the resistance to cry or show even more vulnerability than he already has. But his vision of his already trembled hands start to blur as tears start to fall, his breathing starts to become more slightly rapid than before..

He needed to leave now. But this is the only way to get through her right?

"Awh what's the matter, don't be afraid it's okay. You can always go slow if you want to."

"I... C..an't I don't...(Sniffles) Why...why are you doing.... Why am I d-doing..."

He was choking on his own tears to properly get a word out or aloud considering that every word he said was just very quiet painful moans

Despite Circe being the one more "restrained" Odysseus felt more like he was the one getting pinned down and pretty much tortured by this uneasy tension though there wasn't much happening except Odysseus repeatedly gripping Circe's arms and placing his hands on his her stomach trying his best to avoid her torso

STOP...! Stop shaking! WHY can't I stop shaking what's wrong with me?!

"P-please... I.. I NEED to... Too... N-no..! I..."

"C'mon you~ Don't tell me that you're afraid of a woman"

"N-no... No I...I..."

He couldn't do this... He can't do this, he couldn't betray his wife like this..

"I CAN'T!"

He screamed, jolted off of the bed no longer "restraining" himself on top of Circe. Odysseus looked at his hands still shaking but, not as badly as they were before also realizing that his hands were cold and wet covered with his tears.

Circe's ears went down as she watched Odysseus cover his mouth and hold his stomach

"By the gods, I feel sick..."

He mumbled to himself as he started pacing around the room and suddenly vomits on the floor

"Ahh...hah... Hnngg...my chest hurts.."

Odysseus glared at his sword for what felt minutes slowly calming down and putting himself together and tried to wipe the pathetic tears though, they continued to fall down his face. He sighed

3

"Back at home my wife awaits she's my everything.. My Penelope, she's my motivation for everything she's all of my power, my only purpose but it's been 12 long years"

He starts to scream and wail and covers his face

"AHHH 12 LONG YEARS SINCE I HAVE SEEN MY WIFE!! AND... And now the god of tides is out to kill me.... It's too much to handle it... it's so much ache so please... I beg you Circe please grant us mercy and let us puppets leave.... Please!"

He was on his knees bowing down to her, he felt so pathetic and helpless

Circe at first atleast what it looked like from her facial expressions, she didn't seem to care.. but now, she seemed to be empathizing him as she sighs heavily

"Poseidon you say... Hmm..you know I now about that blue blobfish too... Congrats... Old mortal"

"What...(Sniffles)what are you... GHHN--"

Unexpectedly, he felt a sudden sting in his eyes as she gently wiped his tears away

"You know, I know what's it's like to love before..."

"Come... Let's try to get you out of here"

"Wait..wait you're helping us?"

"Look, I might not be able to get you back home properly but I know someone, a prophet but he's dead."

"...what?"

Odysseus felt his heart sink a little bit from that last sentence, he was still slightly startled from she did to him.. Circe grabbed some small and medium potion bottles and opened a curtain to revealing a bunch of animal pens almost like a farm but the one that caught Ody's attention was the pig pen

"Despite the prophet being dead, I can take you to the underworld to see him"

Within the cunning witch's directions she, throws the held potions onto the pigs transforming the swine into men

The men cheered in enjoyment loudly, as they all headed towards the boat captain Odysseus bows once more to Circe but not out of pity and desperation but as a way to thank her

Euryrlochus walks by to check if the captain was okay.. The captain gleefully noded, and confidently smiled

Take this as a Valentine's day special thingy I guess lol

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Bucky's Valentine

Yes yes I know I'm late to the party but better late than never. I was also busy with assignments (still am) cos they were due on Valentine's Day itself. I also know Silco won that poll but I'm having some difficulty coming up with more than 200 words at the moment so here's my Bucky brainrot.

Got inspiration from this prompt list, much thanks to @/creativepromptsforwriting for the list.

You really need to stop drinking.

Even so, you reach for yet another bottle, drowning your sorrows in the clear liquid as the music fades to a low hum, your mind buzzing from the alcohol. It's a party, celebrating this famous occasion called Valentine's Day but there's this stupid ache in your heart that won't go away.

Each time you lock eyes with a certain super soldier, his ice blue eyes piercing into your very soul, you pull away behind your wall of sharp remarks, afraid of exposing your heart. So of course he finds someone else, why would he think you were interested in him? Still, it hurts to see him laughing with someone else, leaning in close to whisper something into their ear that makes them giggle.

You want nothing more than to feel his lips brush against yours, his voice a deep murmur in your ears but you keep pushing him away, even on Valentine's Day. You can't risk being hurt like that again, your heart can't take it. You're better off watching from afar, keeping him safe from your demons, seeing him happily live the life Hydra has stolen from him.

Your vision is starting to spin, but you keep knocking back more bottles, eager to escape the yawning feeling in your chest that threatens to bury you alive. Tomorrow everything will go back to normal, there won't be a party to remind you of what you can't have, of the person you keep at arms length for his sake.

"Friendly reminder, I will laugh my ass off if you fall out of that chair like an idiot." A hand rests on your shoulder, steadying you.

"I'm not going to. Sheer spite will keep me on this chair." You scowl, slamming the now empty bottle on the counter and reach for another. A metal hand moves the nearest bottle just out of your reach and the chair next to you shifts to make space for the newcomer.

"Sure it will, doll, but I don't think sheer spite will keep you from face-planting the table. You're almost there anyways." The newcomer pushes all glass out of your reach, ruffling your hair. "I'm going to record it when that happens."

"In your dreams," you mutter, shoving his hand away. He laughs when each attempt misses by a mile, your intoxicated movements a far cry from your usual precise ones.

"If I said I was dreaming right now?" He leans in, a smirk plastered on his face. His soft brown locks sway forward, framing his handsome face and gentle ice blue eyes filled with amusement come into view.

"Then you need to dream harder." You push his face away with a huff, leaning over the table to reach for any bottle that hasn't been emptied and nearly fall over when a pair of arms wrap themselves around you, catching you before your body dips.

"I think you've had enough for today." His voice is laced with a concern you've never heard before, and his movements are gentle, nothing like the rough housing he usually does. "Let's go outside, we both could do with some fresh air."

"Don't need your help. I can walk by myself." You shove him away, harder than intended and stalk out the door, grabbing a drink along the way.

Steve looks over, worried, but Bucky waves him away, shaking his head and follows you out. You're standing at the balcony, the wind blowing at your hair and even in your drunken state, you look ethereal.

"Don't go jumping off either," Bucky hums, walking over to stand next to you.

"If I jumped off I'd be dragging you along with me. Can't go about dying before you." You look away, staring at the empty glass in your hand. Your chest is bursting from how close he is to you, hands mere inches away from each other and your heart is pounding in your ears.

"Well, that's quite the tall order. I happen to have the super soldier serum, I don't recall you having any superpowers aside from being the most spiteful person to ever exist." He raises an eyebrow at you and you roll your eyes.

"I also have gravity manipulation, if your old man memory can keep up. Which, by the way, means I can't exactly die from jumping off a building."

"Wouldn't take my chances while drunk." He glances down, grimacing. "Nat's going to have my head on a gold platter if anything happens to you while I'm around."

You snort, "good thing I'm here to save your skin then."

"You have my utmost gratitude." Sarcasm drips from every word of his, accompanied by a flick to the forehead which you return with some difficulty due to the height difference but it's not a problem that can't be solved by a little jump.

"So what sorrows are you drowning today?" He probes gently, prying your fingers from the empty glass.

"All of them, clearly." You lean against the railing, letting out a deep sigh. "Including you."

You don't know why you said that, but it's a bit hard to take them back now. His facial expression shifts, going through surprise, confusion, then sadness. You really shouldn't have said that, Bucky being sad is the furthest thing you want for him.

"Did I…what did I do wrong? Please, tell me doll. I need to know, I promise I won't do it again." There's desperation clinging to each word, a strained plea that begs for your forgiveness. You take the empty glass from him and clench your fist, causing it to shatter. Glass shards fall to the ground at your feet as hot angry tears stream down your cheeks. Bucky takes a step back, warily eyeing you and you let out a scream of frustration into the empty night.

"What did you do? Everything and nothing!" You snarl. Glass shards dig into your palm, drawing blood. "You know what your problem is? Making me actually care about you! I can't stand it!"

You inhale sharply, bloody fist shaking as you take a step towards Bucky. "I hate that I care so much about you! I hate that giddy feeling in my stomach whenever you talk to me, the way I scan the area for you every time I step into a room, the way I think about your safety first and foremost whenever you're on a mission!"

Tears fall faster now, blurring your vision. "I hate that I can't stop having feelings for you, that I can't confess them to you because it'd only put you in more danger, that I need you so badly but I also want you to be happy and live the proper life you deserve."

You choke back a sob. "I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."

Bucky catches you again for the second time tonight as you collapse, body wracked with sobs. He holds you tightly, ignoring the way your blood stains his suit and buries his face into your hair.

"I've always loved you too, I was just too afraid to tell you. I wasn't sure if you returned my feelings, wasn't sure if I was really the best choice for you." His words come out as a whisper but you catch them all. "Tomorrow, I'm going to ask you out, properly, and hopefully you won't be too hungover to reply."

His fingers gently run through your locks as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "We can just stay like that tonight if you want, but I'd like to bandage that pretty hand of yours before it bleeds out, alright?"

"No." You choke out but let him carry you to his room anyways, eyes squeezed shut. His warmth feels nice, and his embrace is even better than you imagined. His touch is gentle, safe and he's careful when cleaning out your wounds.

Through the drying tears, you can make out his blurry image focused on bandaging your hand and let out a sniffle. He presses a small kiss to your neatly bandaged hand and rises, letting your hand drop onto your lap.

"You should rest. You can use my bed, I'll just steal yours in return. Nobody will bother you, promise." He smiles, giving your body a gentle push onto said bed and you lie there, staring up at him.

"Stay." You say after a while, swallowing thickly. "Please."

He blinks, taken aback but gives you the biggest genuine grin you've ever seen and nods.

"As you wish, doll."

"Thank you, James."

Bucky tucks you and himself in, watching as you drift off to sleep with a giddy feeling in his chest. Maybe he should get you drunk more often if it means hearing you say 'thank you'. Besides, he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, it makes him the happiest man in the universe hearing it fall from your lips.

"You're welcome, Y/N."

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[secondbeatsongs]

I love being someone's science experiment

[nostalgia-tblr]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[asgardian--angels]

you know it's bad when tumblr's being the more mature social media site when it comes to rancid takes on izzy's death

[arminsumi]

. . . Satoru, who doesn't shut up during s★x

► '... yeah, talk like that, all up in my ear when he want that wax, can't even hear when I moan like that!'

+ Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT/18+ ONLY, (primarily) dirty talk, namecalling (baby, sl★t, and one playful instance of 'loser'), br★★ding kink, unprotected s★x, pwp, eludes to facesitting

+ Author's note: been a while since I made some pwp, but I just had a vision of a very verbal Satoru that I needed to express ✌️😗

Satoru's behind you, easing his hips against yours, hands tight on your waist, those blue eyes intently watching the sight of his hard cock disappearing into your tight cunt, savoring the feeling of gliding past your plush lips and pushing up into your guts inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch. He's got a cocky, lopsided, downright slappable smile that contorts into an erotic o-shape as he moans in relief — he sounds like he's needed this all day.

And after his first few slutty moans roll out, his mouth doesn't close. He's got a big ego, a big cock and a big mouth and he just doesn't shut up during sex.

He's foul, unfiltered, and unashamed; ".... that greedy little pussy's just swallowing my cock today — yeah, look at you takin' it like you're my personal porn star — huh? Nooo, it's a compliment!" he tops this all off with a smitten kiss, a little bite on your bottom lip, and a sweet "You're just so fucking pretty, makes me curious..." but he trails off, like he just realized now that he can bite his tongue, show a little restraint.

Yeah, that restraint only exists for a short while.

Sweat running down the back of your thighs, Satoru's heavy-hitting thrusts make a sloppy, wet mess between your thighs. While he ruins you like this, he also starts running his mouth, making your head spin deeper into the heat of his intense sex, "Oh baby, take me deeper — fucking take it, yeah, you take that fucking dick... take that nasty fucking dick. J-just let me fuck — your — cunt — dumb — babyyy!" his vocals strain at the end as if your pussy just sucked the breath out of his lungs. He packs his cock as deep into you as he possibly can, cockhead nudging almost too deep inside, only to quickly ease out when you whimper, "Fuck, you good? Sorry, you just feel so fucking good, 'think I'm obsessed with this slutty little hole, 's the only one that can make me this hard. 'Don't stop'? Aw, don't worry... I'm not gonna stop for a while. Yeah, hold your legs back just like that, let me all in, baby."

Honestly, you learned about his breeding kink simply because of Satoru's tendency to blurt things out when he gets too blissed out on sex; "... yeahhh I fucking love you. Keep telling me you love me, 's gonna make me cum so fucking hard — fuck I'm so close, I-I'm so close, I'm gonna cum inside you baby — I'm gonna cum inside you and knock you up — uh-huh, 'gonna nut so fucking deep inside you, you're gonna get pregnant — g-gonna have my babies — oh fuck me, 'm cumming...! Ugh, stay right there and take this fucking nut, baby... fuck... fuck you fucking drained me." he takes a moment to steady his breaths, planting a slap on your ass and staring in silence for a while before he continues, voice softer-toned than earlier, "Hey, still with me, baby? Perk your ass up a little, I wanna watch my cum dribble out. What? That's not perverted... this is art. What are you sighing for? Nah, don't you laugh at me or I'm gonna — fuck you, get on my face, loser, I'm gonna make you cry."

Even outside of the bedroom he still has a nasty word or two just waiting to spill out his mouth — especially the morning after a long, hard night.

His eyes catch on the curve of your hips, he smirks, and he comes up behind you while you're in the kitchen, leans way down and mutters something nasty in your ear just to hear your naughty giggles. "Hey sweet thing, you got a boyfriend? Nah, relax, he doesn't have to know a damn thing..." he asks jokingly, massaging your tiny pussy in his big hands, middle finger dividing your plush lips and rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties — but it all only lasts for a split second of course, he intentionally leaves you wanting more. He'll act dumb if you call him a tease, "Huh? What do you mean 'do something about this'? Did I turn you on? I was just saying good morning, baby, you've got such a dirty little imagination."

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

I do not allow the copying/plagiarizing/reposting/translation (etc) of my works. Please don't steal what I've worked hard to create.

[bunny-jpeg]

retired!price liked that you had daddy issues. aw, did someone not have a functioning relationship with their father as a child and now has to find that relationship in older men? aw, poor doll. price was more than okay with being called 'daddy' as long as you called him 'captain' too, especially when you were on your knees. while you got off to having an older man praise you, he got off to a pretty little thing calling him captain. you even went as far as to worship his strong physic, how easily he could bend, flip, turn and press into you.

didn't help that your pussy became a fixation for him.

he was close to fifty, his hip had a habit of locking from time to time. he had been hearing about it for years that it was time to have a family. even simon had managed to make a family, price was still hung up on young tail that he could bully his fat cock into. while most younger women were flavours of the week with no string attached. price made sure to attach every metaphorical string onto you. he had a copy of your apartment key. he added a profile for you on his streaming services. he knew on wednesdays you enjoyed pasta, but hated cooking on the weekend. he knew everything about his precious baby girl. you folded into his praise and always were eager to please. and that was what price loved about you. so imagine his shock (anger) when you told him that you thought you'd have to end your arrangement because you met a guy at your university. and when he asked why, you simply said, "i have to grow up at some point.", and that hit price in the head like an ice pick. if you wanted to grow up so badly, baby girl. there were other ways to do it.

the broken condom held weight in price's pocket while you had few drinks during your last 'date' together, he waited till you got all soft because of the wine. till you were on his side of the booth with your leg over his lap and your face pressed against his bicep. you ran your hand across his chest and giggled, "you're taking this whole break up thing so well." and he petted your head, watching you fold into him further, "like you said, you need to grow up." but you both had different definitions of 'growing up'. for you it meant getting over you daddy issues, but to him it was making him a daddy, for real. you giggled further while he gave you another glass of wine. when you tried to say no, he simply pushed it closer to you, "don't want to waste the bottle." and so easily you were in price's grip.

price took you three times that night. first was in the backseat of his expensive car. he pressed you into a corner, claimed that he needed more space for his larger body. your hazy vision was transfixed on the glimmer of his gold chain against his hairy chest in the low light. your poor body bent in such ways while he pace was relentless. he admired your unsteady gaze and your heavy breathing. he continued to move against you with such a pace that the whole car rocked. but don't worry, the parking lot was dead at that hour. you could scream your head off and no one would hear either of you. he did however put a tear in your panties. right in the crotch area. he sighed and said that he'd need to buy you something a little. while he loved the cheap pairs you owned, he thought his woman deserved something a little nicer. the future mrs. price needed to look next to perfection.

then he fingered you heavily in his bed and watched you squirm. he had to make sure every drop got deep enough before he bullied your sweet pussy once more. he loved the sight of you, still so fucked out from prior. you were in a daze in the car ride home. your breathing was heavy when he pushed the skirt of your dress up a little and teased your cunt while he drove. only to go further once you were naked on his bed. he watched your ass jiggle with each of his power thrusts while he took you from behind. he felt like a mad man while he fucked you. he was determined. he only got to where he was in his career because of grit and determination. he wouldn't back down to a challenge, especially when the stakes were so high. your pussy need to be bred, you needed to be with price. he never wanted to hear anything about another man ever again. price would hate to take drastic measures if another man tried to get in his way. if you needed a collar or a tattoo, the taste of his cum constantly your lips or leaked into your panties, price would do it all to ensure that you were his. the most effective way to ensure that was what kept him going through two rounds of sex without any pains. to get you pregnant. you had already forgotten about the broken condom, it still was in price's pocket! no use using it now, even bother giving the illusion that he wasn't breeding you.

the third time was when you tried to leave the next morning, he had you upside down on the bed. your bottom half on the mattress while all the blood rushed to your head as you tried not to fall on your head. price put bruises on top of bruises. your poor cunt was creamy with promises of the future. a future with him. the blood rush made you cum twice on his cock, adding fresh slick to his coated cock. you thought that older men were supposed to slow down with age. but it felt like price was even quicker than before. his pace brutal, almost like punishment for trying to leave him. but price didn't get to be captain because he followed one plan. he was going to ease you into married life, slowly make you the perfect woman for him. he was traditional that way. church wedding, the white dress, the vows. that would all happen, but might take a little longer. he wasn't too sure that a baby bump would fit nicely in a wedding dress. the thought of you pregnant, trapped to him made him eagerly finish in you two times. and when he got you back up onto the bed, you were fucked out. when you managed to collect your clothes and stagger out of his flat by mid-afternoon, you thought you made it in time to the pharmacy to get emergency plan b.

you prayed, and you never prayed. you promised three versions of 'god' that you'd convert to their religion if the pill worked. but three deities failed you and a month later price was in your apartment with his hands on the plastic pregnancy test. he scratched his beard and looked at you. he tried so hard to put on his best acting face. "that's a real shame, baby girl." he said in that rough voice of his that got you in trouble in the first place. he leaned back a little in your kitchen chair and placed the test back down on the table, "always wanted to be a father." he frowned a little bit, "never got the chance too. they said when i retired that the chances were low of me havin' a baby..." he looked at you. you should've known he was lying. his swimmers obviously weren't shot by how easily you got pregnant. you felt bad, almost like you were burdening him with getting pregnant. that it was your fault. you rung your hands and admitted softly, "we can try... we can make a family." and price smiled, "oh, doll." then got up to embrace you. you sniffled and cried a little in his strong chest. he held you in his strong arms. he was your protector even though his cock was straining in his jeans at the knowledge that he fundamentally changed you.

your body, your life, everything. when he released you from the hug, he got down on his knees. made a point to make a small 'huff' noise from being down on his 'bad' knee before he pushed up your t-shirt and pressed a kiss against your stomach. he said to you, "don't worry, love. daddy'll take care of ya." then gave that smile that wrapped around you like a vice. <3

[ddejavvu]

mean!logan smacks his girls pussy when she tries to push him away

Don't Move - Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, impact play (pussy slapping)

send me mean!logan requests!

shit. shit anon i creamed my jeans at this one. i splooged all over my phone screen. 'his girl's pussy' YEAH. yeah. shit.

There are two things that Logan has drilled into you since the day you'd begun having sex: your safeword, and the phrase 'don't move'.

It's something that he snarls at you whenever you writhe too much, or when one of your hands threatens to take control of the situation where his should prevail. He's picky, domineering, and doesn't enjoy his vision being interrupted.

He puts you where he wants you, and you're expected to stay.

He's torturing your tits, scruffy beard rawing your skin as his tongue and teeth ravage your nipple. Your skin is stinging and sensitive in the cool open air, and each time Logan's teeth tug at your tit you feel a twisting in your gut that's half pain and half pleasure.

You're twitching beneath his mouth but when a particularly intense jolt of pleasure-pain comes from a harsh bite-and-tug at your left nipple, you shove hard against Logan's head on instinct and wriggle backwards on the bed when his teeth let up.

You hardly have time for the sting of your nipple to flatline before you feel pain elsewhere, a harsh smack laid flat against the exposed surface of your cunt. Logan's hand is rough, leaving a burning sensation in the aftermath of the smack.

"Don't move." He growls, his voice gruff and as irritated as your stinging skin, "The fuck do you think you're doing, shoving me like that? You wanna play hard- you want me to rough you up?"

Your safeword is the farthest thing from your mind at the threat, imagining bruises laid proudly against your skin, imagining begging for Logan to suck and bite them into your flesh. You want his handprint etched into your ass, you want his fingertips to leave marks on your hips, you want the curve of his teeth indented in the soft skin of your shoulder. Your pussy pulses at the prospect and the residual sting from his slap only makes things worse.

You're sure your pupils have dilated at the prospect, but Logan knows by the racing of your heartbeat and the scent of your growing arousal.

"Fucking pathetic." He spits, advancing on you once more and showing no mercy to your abused nipple as he snaps at it again. His arms pin your own to your sides, his iron grip almost ensuring a mark leftover in the morning as he pins you down, "Running away... you wanna push me around? Watch it, killer. I'll manhandle you right back."

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

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