#it's also why his gloves are so fucked up. my mans will NOT stop biting them

[thisblogisblank]

Boo Punch Out OC jumpscare.

Meet Sonny Wylde!! A Wylde (haha) child from Sydney, Australia. Sonny himself is a very gentle, kind, and quiet man, preferring to just keep to himself and stay out of trouble. However, this is mostly because when he gets too much adreniline in his system, it triggers something in his brain, and turns him into his alter ego - Scrappy Wylde! He's like a Walmart Jekyll and Hyde. Scrappy is completely and utterly feral, and doesn't care about the rules or the preservation of him or his opponent, all he cares about is knocking you onto the mat with as much damage done as possible.

Also he kisses Joe on the side but that's neither here nor there

@colourfullightz the son boy :]

[teddiesworldd]

after the world ends.

ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words) read part 2 here!!!

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

pairing: simon ghost riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance

day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.

you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, driving somewhere more remote to avoid the infected and rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.

you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies. 

you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold. 

thud. thud. snap.

footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot. 

“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.

you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”

he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.

“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”

you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.

his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.

“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you. 

you nodded slowly.

“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”

you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.

he wasn’t wrong, really.

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

his camp was much nicer than the back of your car. 

it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called "soap". they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.

after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. soap had taught you a few things and often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.

however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.

he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp.

“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”

and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.

“not scared, are you, doll?”

you shook your head.

“good. just making sure.”

and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.

but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.

“stay?” you whispered.

and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder. 

and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.

sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent. 

it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him. 

and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest. 

“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.

and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all. 

after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”

there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.

"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.

"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."

your small hand reached up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.

"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.

you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.

"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.

it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.

"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.

"please," you replied, "i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that came through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.

he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.

"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."

he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.

"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."

you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.

he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.

"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.

you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forth as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.

it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.

"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."

when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.

he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.

and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.

"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."

˚✧. thank you for reading!

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˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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[moonlight-prose]

this is pure thot, sending one about Gabriel Van Helsing fucking you in his jacket (because he thinks you look so goddamn good in it - only it, and nothing else) 🦇💕

note: i need you know i screamed and fell over and actually made a fool of myself writing this. because where is this man and why isn't he married me??? i want to be his hot witch wife who helps him fight monsters. also i love the amount of asks people sent in about him. clearly we need more van helsing in our lives.

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, rough sex, p in v sex, possessive gabriel, outdoor nasty time, hints of wolfism, he's feral.

It's a full moon when he finds you bundled in his leather trench coat, waiting out the chill in the air as he finishes yet another job well done. The autumnal solstice has come and gone, bringing darkness to the world around. Giving leeway to the monsters who clung to the shadows, biding their time for the moon's glow to lead the way.

You've opted for thin clothes. A horrible choice given the change in seasons, but Gabriel vowed this would be simple. The inn refused to open its doors for someone like him - claiming he was a monster in his own right. And perhaps that was true.

Whether he liked to admit it, the wolf inside of him never truly passed. The antidote may have changed him back, but the instincts remained. His thread of anger grew thinner the fuller the moon got, his thirst for blood thickened like sweet honey as his changed DNA craved something fresher. Something made up of veins and nerves and a beating heart he could stop.

"Finished?" You shudder at the sight of his shirt torn open in the center, his chest on full display for you to ogle at blatantly.

"The bastard tried to play with me."

A smile curled onto your lips, sly and smooth and dripping with lust at the biting rage behind his words. The moon was affecting him. Far more than he would have liked.

"I'm sure you taught him a lesson," you reasoned, moving swiftly to reach for his warm hands. "You always do."

"That my coat?"

His eyes trailed down to the way it gaped across your own chest, your dress slipping down lower than you intended. But Gabriel was only a man and the adrenaline ran through his body like a fire he couldn't put out. The moon's glow fueled his thoughts, his urges, and before you could explain that you were cold he was walking you back into the trunk of the nearest tree.

"Last I checked I gave that to you to hold," he said. Although his eyes said something else - the ache crawling its way through his body, settling at the base of his spine.

Your chin tipped in defiance. "Last I checked I didn't need your permission to wear your clothes."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

The smile on his face screamed contentment, but the fire in his gaze explained to you the turmoil he fought on the inside. The war that waged in his body at the very thought of touching you. Of getting his hands on what rightfully belonged to him.

"I'm rather cold," he replied, dipping his gloved hand beneath the leather fabric. Brazenly groping your breast as his tongue dragged across his bottom lip. "Might need this back."

"Then take it," you gasped. "It's yours."

A blur of movement left you winded when he hauled you up against the tree, his strength increased by the moon's piercing glow. Teeth latched onto your neck like an animal aching to mark his territory. The quickness of his hands digging to raise your dress stole whatever sense you had left in your head.

Out in the open you were nothing but prey for this man to take. A feast for him to dine on with a wet mouth and throbbing cock. You couldn't deny the harsh wave of lust that swept through you even if you wanted to.

"It is mine," he gruffly stated, swiping his cock through your dripping folds. "The leather and the pretty thing inside it."

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you faster than you could take. The burning stretch caused you to sag against the tree, his fingers harsh against the meat of your thighs. There was no warning. Just a kiss pressed sloppily to your lips, a growl muffled into the heat of your mouth, before he slammed into you again.

"Should have known better." His bit at your bottom lip until copper flooded his mouth - a streak of red smearing between your mouths.

The smile on your face was tainted in crimson. His cock jolted within you at the sight. Bloody and fucked out and perfectly his in every way he could have you.

"W-Who says I didn't?"

"Minx," he bit out, a hand slamming to the trunk behind you, fingers ripping at the bark. "I want you to finish."

"Gabriel-"

He gripped your throat, eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness as the beast within began to rear its ugly head. There would never be another full moon where he turned. Never another night spent locked inside a monster's body. But he would forever be stuck with it as his companion.

"Finish. And then I will fuck you properly in our home," he snarled, grinding into you hard enough to hurt.

The coarse hair at the base of his cock dragged along your aching clit. And with a muffled shout against his cheek you gushed. The numbing pleasure drowned you, dragged you through the fires of hell before seating you atop the throne of heaven.

His cry of your name barely registered, but you felt the swell of his cock when he broke. The drip of his spend slipping down between your bodies. His blood still ran hot - desperation skirting the edges of his patience - but for a moment he relaxed into your touch.

Kissing along your throat until his lips found yours once more.

[sunnyswide]

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

…

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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

Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be. 

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms. 

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings. 

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well. 

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age. 

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity. 

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage. 

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests. 

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest. 

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite. 

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing. 

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated. 

Curious. 

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked. 

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

*** 

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others. 

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal. 

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?" 

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you. 

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said. 

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

--------

Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | 

Act III - Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (18+) | Part 28 (END)

[twisted-gremlin]

Second years and semicolon

First years and explanation

Riddle: since tattoos didn't exist in the day of the queen of hearts, or anythibg of the like in the area, there is no law for or against them. Riddle believes that the queen would have a rule that all must have atleast one as a show of strength and fortitude or loyalty or somethjng. He just would make sure that you took care of the tattoo during the healing process. His mother probably disapproved of Riddle himself ever getting one because they could lead to an infection. So, Riddle would defonately talk to you about it, and what your means to you. I think, when the time comes. He might get a heart and rose semicolon tattoo for himself when he is old enough. He takes so much pride in it and absolutely adores it

Ruggie: he might see tattoos as a waste of money. Growing up poor, he has seen some people tossing away their money for a new tattoo. So he might antagonize you a lil more. I think Jack would actually be the one to snap at Ruggie, saying that your tattoo means alot to you and shows a big milestone. Jack dosent open up about more, so Ruggie asks you. You may either tell him to fuck off, so he does and just kinda keeps his distance. The other option is that you tell him, and he grows a bit more of an understanding for that. He is a lil more respectful and may steal some stuff for ya because you are currently broke as shit (thanks Crowley for helping)

Floyd: he fuckin thinks tattoos are the coolest thing. I think, if he ever got a tattoo, he would get a sleeve of random ass things, going to 50 differnt artists while it's being done. He bites your tattoo because look, a homing beacon of bitting. He would respect ya is you do share your story with him, and he even helps you, in his own way. He will steal you away if you get stressed, or share your guilty foods(he does this with Azul, you can't change my mind), he likes seeing his shrimp friend happy admit all the chaos they are in

Jade: he probably isn't one to get a tattoo, he might get a mushroom one as a memory of his time on the surface. But I think he would put together what your tattoo means, and so, he helps by pushing you a bit further if you don't already push yourself. If you do, then he will present himself as an obstacle so you can take a break every once in awhile. He does this with Azul and it works well with him, so why not with another friend/patron who is struggling. He will listen to your story if you wish to share it and will be there for you, and even offer to take you on hikes with his club.

Azul: I think he would not care much for tattoos, he is a business man, a tattoo would take away from the business. But when he saw yours and put together the meaning behind it, after his overblot, he accepts that, something is also wrong with him, so he asks you to his office for drinks and to talk. So he brings up your tattoo, he identifies in some way with your story, the struggling around others, the fear, the insecurity. He apologizes for his behavior recently as it put you and your livelihood in danger. He makes an offer of buying ramshake, giveing you a place on Octanavile, and a job at the Monstro Lounge. He would get a small smiple semi Colin that could be hidden in his gloves. It's a promise, to you and himself that he would never do such a thing again, he hurt his friends, scared people, and nearly killed himself. So he wants to be better than he was, being better also seems to help with his businesses aswell so why stop?

Jamil: I think he would have a bit of a stigma against tattoos, white would be for the wealthy, while black would be for criminals. Even tough it's not entirely true, he has it a bit ingrained in him that if you have ink on you, he hates you. So before his overblot, he would be cold and distant to you. After the overblot, he decides to ask about what your tattoo means to you/your culture. When you share, he apologizes for his stigma and thank you about shareing your story. I think he would ask for permission from his family and the Al-Aslims for a white and black semicolon tattoo. He helped Kalim take care of his so he knows how to do it, but Kalim this time helps him.

Kalim: bean boi already has one! So the two fo you bond over them. Tattoos are probably a mix of cultural and a sign of wealth, specifically white ones. So when you share your and the meaning to you, this man does what he can to support you, inviting you over or comeong over for meals, checking in on you every once in awhile, just trying his best to be aware of the feelings of others.

Silver: I think silver would be fascinated by it. He was allways fascinated by oddities in whatever differnt kind of fae he talked to, multiple sets of teeth, wings, horns, pointy teeth, whatever would make himself differ from the fae. He would be very respectful about it and be sure to research each Species or ask his father about it before asking the fae themself, as to not appear as to be rude. He asked Jamil about Kalims tattoos because he knows that if there was a gaurd or a retainer nearby, it's best to adress them about some things that may be rude culturally. So he knows what a tattoo is, and ends up asking you about yours. He apologizes that you have had to go trough such hardships and is glad that you are healing and are there for Malleus whenever he needs someone to be with that isn't one of them. He honestly respects you alot for it since Jamil told him that it's a bit of a painful process. He may ask some more about your world aswell because he is genuinely curious about the differences between the worlds and helps you as a fellow human who is very much lost in this new world

[moonrisecoeur]

i have been. debating sending this bc i know i am cringe. op i am so sorry feel free to ignore and delete bc this is just actual pure filth lmfaooo

op i literally think about pegging leon 24/7 its a full time JOB inside my brain i need to peg that man so fucking Bad its not even funny. i know hes so fucking Noisy. i wanna make him beg for my strap, i wanna fucking edge him until hes begging and crying to be fucking ruined. i wanna pretty him up, put eyeliner on him so i can make it run down his face from fucking him so hard. i wanna mark up his neck and pull his hair while i pulverize him. i wanna tell him hes taking it so well and how hes such a good boy, how pretty he looks bent over for me while i fuck his cute ass. i want him to hug me while i praise him bc hes so overwhelmed. tell him how hot it is hearing him moan and whine, encourage him to make as much noise as he wants, itd be cute to watch him try to not pillow bite because hes trying sooo hard to do what you want like a good boy. i want him to be borderline Incomprehensible, voice shaking and cracking as he tells me how much he loves me, how much he loves the way i make him feel. i wanna make him cum untouched. i wanna overstimulate him. i wanna grope his fat tits and milk his dick. i wanna make him watch himself getting fucked. put him in a collar, lingerie, fuck anything-hed be gorgeous no matter what he wears. shower him in kisses and affection and make him feel the most loved he has in his entire LIFE while short circuiting his brain n marking him with bites and bruises for everyone to see.

re2 leon is my fave man he has my heart and god id love to just take care of him. after a long shift i wanna slam him against the door and fuck him while hes still in uniform. make him feel so good. such a whiny cutie. cuff him up and bite his freckles while i fuck him late into the night, clean him up and cuddle him after, make him breakfast in the morning n give him kisses.

re4/re6/older leon is a subby bitch too. just as god damn fine and id do oh so horrific things to him. hed love it so much, not having to think, make decisions, take charge. just let me whatever i want to him. hed get off so hard being under you and told how fucking good, pretty, perfect he is. he needs your approval so fucking bad-its all that poor man wants, god he needs it so BAD. he needs to feel safe and loved and wanted, like this is Critical. id make SURE i fuck him so good he cant even think about his insecurities or problems. and dear fucking lord do not get me started on that slutty waist and button down of his in re6. he's keeping the gloves on while i press his hands into the mattress and bite his arms.

its so fucking funny bc i hc leon as a switch BUT GODDDDD SUBBY LEON MAKES ME FUCKING FOAM AT THE MOUTH LIKE A RABID, FERAL ANIMAL

its not a want it is a NEED

I NEED THIS MAN UNDER ME I NEED TO REARRANGE HIS GUTS !!!!!!!!!!!!

guhhh last anon again but now i really cant stop thinkin about sub leon. legit i have so much more to say i just love him so much. theres so much. More. i wanna say but lord. im trying so hard to be normal man 😭😭

first off. hi. hope u had a yummy thanksgiving if u celebrate it and if not i also hope ur having a good day !!

ALSO WTF WHY WOULD I DELETE THIS i literally woke up this morning and checked my tumblr notifs as one does and i literally see this behemoth of an ask and im reading through and im literally screaming bc why is this my internal monologue. like. did u get inside my head or something??? did u steal this from my brain bc i literally think about this approximately 1000 times a day.

i’ll literally be at work and my thoughts be like ughhh i wanna hurt him and make him cry but also want to love him and take care of him but also want to fuck him so so slow and deep i can feel it moving around if i put on hand on his abdomen and then i just spiral and then i remember im making a fuckin caramel macchiato or something >.<

so!! in spirit of our delusion i’m planning to write smthin for u based off of this vibe!! just give me a lil bit 👉👈

BUT TELL ME EVERYTHING TELL ME ALL UR THOUGHTS I WANT TO HEAR THEM ALL I WANT TO KNOWWWW ‘i have so much more to say’ okay prove it. tell me everything

[arak-the-other-kara]

"Wait, Woomeme, What're we—"

(Woomeme already dipped)

"Ohhh they left us again."

"Darn it... This is the sixth time..."

"My weapon...? Ma FISTS!!!"

*Jacklyn showed worn pink leather gloves, modified with spikes. Actual spikes. Actually metal spikes. Freshly sharpened.*

*"She has the highest LOVE out of all of us at LV 17."*

"Wait, what's yours?"

"LV 15."

"Makes sense."

"Anyways, although I have an... Unorthodox physical weapon, I managed to utilize something different."

*Liliana summons her SOUL, a relatively darker shade of magenta than it should be for a Perseverance SOUL. It then turns into a halberd.*

"...Woah..."

"Girl, the fuck you hiding this from us for?"

"I managed to get a hang of this in the afterlife. Was reluctant to use it before."

*Several dark purple ropes sprout from a bit above Liliana's arm stump. They then construct into a functional replica of the bottom half of her arm.*

"Tadaaa."

"Okay, back to our weapons. I have a... Pan?"

"Had this toy knife that was a gift from my mom... *Sigh* Replaced it with this cool dagger tho."

"Do you like my gun gun"

"... shoe."

*Lyric does a développé, showing off their pointe shoe*

.

.

.

"What do you taste like?"

*Jacklyn... Tries to bite his arm. Be warned that if he lets her, her canines are unusually sharp.*

"Jackie NO—"

(Clover) "*The attack does 14 hp* Not bad! If you're wondering why it does less to me, my player programmed me with a bit of a buff to make the game easier."

(Player) "No! I did it to enhance your expi..."

(Clover) "Stop with the excuses. Also, that did feel almost as good as shooting myself so good job! This leads to another problem: they just go up and leave, huh? I guess this has a silver lining. I can tell you why I hate religion. Settle down kids I've got a story to tell! There was once a kid from Texas. That kid was very into Westerns. So much so, that he made it his whole personality. The parents didn't care too much until they saw the kid being attracted to the most beautiful, kind, and dashing cowboy. Now, being Christian and loving another man was a huge no-no! They started trying to convert me in all types of ways. By berating me day in and day out to just grabbing their belt and whipping my butt whenever they thought he was attracted to a man. If that wasn't enough, they sent the little boy to a gay conversion camp. Heh, you know they aren't as bad as y'all think. They're lightyears worse. They electrocuted him, abused him, beat him, and even tried to exercise the gay out of him! (Writers note, I actually looked it up all of this can happen in a gay conversion camp. WTF.) After a while, the boy goes crazy and runs off to try to find a way out. It was difficult but after a while of practicing, he finally made it out of that hell hole. He found a mountain called MT. Ebott and the rest is history. *Laughed* You know, it's kind of funny how terrible my life is. *Pointed his gun at the kid who bit him* So don't ever have anyone mention Christianity around me or else *Shot in the air*"

[dontfeeltoohot]

Have a little 2k thing I wrote for my YTAU. Steve and Eddie are both sick, set in March 2023, 7 months into their relationship.

XXX

Eddie presses his face to his shoulder, rubbing his nose into his black Helloween tee. He’s over halfway done with his second client; some girl in her twenties who wanted flowers on her collarbones- how original. Sniffling, he wipes down the tattoo with his green soap solution and then goes back to shading the side of a leaf. His throat’s worse than earlier back at home, when he’d been curled up with Steve, both of the men sick and tired. 

Sometimes the tattoo artists wishes work didn’t exist, as he scrunches his nose up when a tickle winds its way through his sinuses. Picking up the gun and turning as far away as he possibly can, craning his neck, Eddie brings his arm up to his face. 

“iiHGkSH’ew! hihKTchuhEW! hh’GKtSCH’uhew!” Sniffling soupily, the long haired man grabs a paper towel from his station and blows his nose, wincing at the noise. “Let’s take a five minute break sweetheart, I need to wash up, and it’ll give you a rest from the pain,” he smiles.

“Yeah, sounds good. Bless you, by the way.” 

The way she looks him up and down has him giving her an awkward nod, knowing now that she’s flirting with him. Clearing his throat and wincing as it scrapes, he stands and throws the paper towel and his black nitrile gloves away in the wastebasket, then heads to the back where the bathrooms are. Yanking his phone out, Eddie clicks quickly to his and Steve’s text thread, then hits the voice message button, nostrils twitching. 

“hiKTsch’ew! snf! huhIhGKschEW! eh’IGkTCHew! SNDF!” He sneezes into his shirt so the sound isn’t as muffled, then clicks the stop button on his phone. 

Hope you enjoy, princess. Couldn’t catch a couple a few minutes ago, but hope these make up for them. 

Pressing send, it’s then he notices there’s an audio from Steve, too. Biting his lip, he makes sure his sound is down almost all the way, then puts the speaker up to his ear. 

“huhRESHHH’uh! EISHHuh!” There’s barely a pause between the loud, harsh sneezes, and Eddie squirms, imagining his boyfriend snapping at the waist, completely at the mercy of his worsening cold. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, sniffling and scrubbing his nose with his wrist before looking back at the screen and typing. 

Also, bless you. Those sounded like you needed them. Can’t wait till we’re home and I can coax more out of you 😏😏

Peeing and washing his hands, Eddie sighs at the throbbing in his sinuses and the sluggish mess that’s making its way closer to the edge of his nostrils. This cold is by far the worst he’s endured in the string of Steve-born illnesses in the past seven months. 

The walk back to his station includes Peter stopping him and asking him if he’s free tomorrow; his day off, to be an extra set of hands for walk ins. 

“Oh, uh…” Eddie scrubs at his face. “Lemme get back to you? Think I’m comin’ down with something man, don’t wanna spread it around.” 

“Steve really is a germ magnet isn’t he?” Bryson pipes up from his station a few feet down, working on a man’s back. 

“Yeah, it’d be endearing if I could side step getting it too,” the artist jokes, even though realistically he doesn’t mind. 

“Oh well, maybe it’ll end up building up your immunity in the long run.” 

“My immune system was perfect before him,” Eddie chuckles. “But it’s ok. Just means spending time with my boyfriend curled up on the couch. He’s not a terrible patient like Alyssa is,” he gives Bryson a look, referring to the man’s girlfriend. 

“God she’s the worst. Like just rest for twenty damn minutes!” 

Eddie heads back to his area, pulling more gloves on. “You ready to finish up? We should be done soon.” 

“Yeah! But it’s really not that bad. I don’t know why people claim it hurts so much, it feels good to me.” She shimmies her shirt off again, revealing just a bandeau top, easy access to her clavicle. 

“Mm, probably just have a higher pain tolerance,” he explains, not wanting to play into her games. He starts his tattoo gun back up, dips the needles into the ink again, and goes to work. 

An hour and a half later, the musician is saying goodbye to Anna, smiling at the $80 tip she’s just handed him. At least that’s a plus. Shoving it into his pocket, he switches the money for his insulin pump, checking it quickly. When his numbers seem good, Eddie blows his nose again and coughs, shivering. A noise from his phone grabs his attention and he unlocks the screen. 

Audio message- 4 seconds

Audio message- 11 seconds 

Audio message - 7 seconds 

Audio message- 22 seconds

Jesus Christ. 

You trying to kill me at work? I can’t even listen right now. 

Just thought you’d wanna hear how my cold is 😇

Harrington, you little shit, you’re going to be the death of me. 🍆👅🤤

Nose running, Eddie sighs and rips yet another paper towel from the roll, pressing it right to his pink, oversensitive nostrils, blowing thickly. He can feel the paper get wet and grimaces- he finds mess from other people hot, but himself? Not so much. He drops down into his chair and lets his forehead thunk against his table, curls falling everywhere around his face. 

“Maybe you should head home early,” Liz, their only female in the shop, observes. 

“Nah, s’just a cold, don’t need to leave for it,” Eddie picks his head up slowly, feeling congestion shift as he does. “F-Fuck hold ohhhn-“ the tattooist turns away and pulls the neck of his shirt up over his face, aiming downward towards his chest. 

“hihGhKschew! sndf! Ugh, s-sorry that wahhs hehIHGKshhuhew! iiEIshuhew! Fuck! snfSNDF! That was gross.” 

“Yep,” Liz grimaces. “But like, also who cares? You’re sick, what’re you meant to do? Those tiny little kitten sneezes? Gotta at least get that shit out,” she shrugs.

Eddie’s acutely aware of how weird this conversation is. Either the woman is just that vanilla, or she’s fucking with him and into it. Because no regular person is going to just…say those words. Right? He rubs at his nose with the inside of his sleeve cuff, nose too sore to want to bother with another paper towel. 

“Stop germing your shirt up,” the bright pink haired girl rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Quit being a mom, I get that enough from St-sndf! Steve.” 

“Then quit being a bad sick person.” 

“Fuck you, I’m an Angel. I’m the best sick person.” 

“Says the guy who just rubbed snot all over his shirt.” 

Point 1- Liz. 

XXX

Steve’s been holed up in the back office of Not Just Coffee all morning with his tissues and cough drops, trying to reorganize some of their recipe files they’ve been keeping. As he squints at the computer screen, his nose scrunches up involuntarily and he scrubs at it with his knuckles. This fucking cold is going to make him lose his mind. It’s constantly teasing him, buzzing in his sinuses and head in a way that’s keeping him on edge. Slowly he inhales through his stuffy nose, triggering yet another itch to ignite. He taps the record button on his phone that’s been open to his messages all morning. 

“eHISHHooh! hhrIHDSTCHuh!” He rubs his nose harshly with the back of his hand, jiggling the tip and his septum, desperate for even slight relief. Steve’s sure Eddie will hear him rubbing at it. He stops it after a sickly sounding sniffle that makes him cough. 

Robin comes in looking worried a minute later, carrying a large mug full of something steaming. 

“I know you hate tea, but you should drink some. Will even made it special for you,” she says pointedly. “Stop being an idiot and try to not wallow in icky germs.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow, laughing a little. “Icky germs?” His voice is raspy and congested and Robin screws her face up, setting the mug down and backing up dramatically. 

“Just…drink the tea, and try not to infect every inch of the office,” Robin walks out quickly. 

“Great best friend you are!” He calls after her, but starts coughing by the last word. 

Glancing at the tea when his throat throbs, the barista sighs and brings it close, sipping on it. His face still screws up at the bitter taste, but even he can admit it feels good on his swollen throat, the warmth of the cup even feels good on his hands. Throughout the day, he manages to catch several more sneezes, even a few that turn into full blown fits, and the texts he gets back from his boyfriend make him blush. 

The brunette is half asleep in the desk chair when Robin comes in again, holding the till in her hands hours later. 

“Dingus, wake up enough to count the till. I’m not touching the keyboard,” she says resolutely, prodding Steve’s shoulder with her finger. 

“Nngh, fi’de…” Steve sits up and starts going through the task of counting the till, making change, sealing the money bag and putting everything in the safe. 

“You know you’re not coming in tomorrow right?” 

“Honestly? Wasn’t even gonna ask,” he admits, snuffling into a couple of tissues in his hand, blowing his nose and wincing as his ears pop. “Ugh, let’s get out of here.” 

By the time Steve’s walking into Eddie’s apartment; Robin’s up with Chrissy, he’s ready to collapse. Shutting the door behind him, Steve coughs and throws his bag by the couch, debating if he wants to shower or lay down. His boyfriend's big couch and cozy blankets win out, and soon the barista is burrowing under them, sweatpants and sweatshirt now replacing his work clothes. Not ten minutes into Hunger Games, he’s asleep. 

XXX

They need more medicine, Eddie realizes as he backs out of his parking spot behind the tattoo shop. Medicine, tissues, tea, soup. This morning they were sick but sure as hell not this sick. He makes the three mile drive to Target, slipping his sweatshirt on before he heads inside, knowing he probably looks awful. Oh fucking well, he can cough on anyone who might look at him wrong. 

He grabs both DayQuil and NyQuil, Tylenol, sugar free cherry cough drops, tissues, some earl grey tea, and then the musician stands in front of the ridiculous number of soups, staring blankly at it. Steve likes tomato soup and grilled cheese, so they can do that tomorrow. Eddie doesn’t really want anything tonight, let alone soup, but he grabs two cans of chicken noodle and a can of vegetable, head aching too much to try and focus more. 

By the time the artist is heading to the register, a few people around him have given him looks as he’s sniffled and coughed. His nose is running and he can feel the same coldish tickle that’s been bothering him all day start to grow. There’s a couple people in front of him for the self checkout line, so he pulls the neck of his dark grey sweatshirt up and his eyes flutter shut. 

“ihIKtSCHuhew! hh’Igkshuhew! ih’IHgKSHuh!!” The last one is louder than he means it to be, and the sniffle he gives after makes him cringe at how wet it is. 

Twenty minutes and six sneezes later, he’s walking inside his apartment, happy that Steve’s there. All he wants is to cuddle, which, yeah alright, maybe that’s a little sappy but he’s so damn tired and he feels gross and cuddling Steve always helps. When he sees a lump on the couch, he sets the bags down on the table and moves straight for the other man. 

“Stevie…baby I’m home,” he murmurs to the business owner, sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Steve, sweetheart. Come on…there we go, I’m sorry I woke you,” he smiles at Steve’s pouty huff, head barely peeking out of the blanket nest. 

“Y’home?” 

“Yeah baby, m’hone,” Eddie nods, bending closer so he can rub his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Mm, come join me. Think this cold is kicking my ass.” 

“Doin’ the same to me. I’ll change and be right with you okay? Don’t fall back asleep till I’m with you.” 

By the time Eddie’s back in the living room, Steve’s asleep, drooling on his pillow. Eddie chuckles and snaps a photo, setting it at his Lock Screen before crawling in next to him. 

[crystallizedkingdoms]

Crescendo

day 4 of @johann-appreciation-week! today is a Little Fang fic. to those who may not know, Little Fang is a goth rock band au. the band, Little Fang, consists of Lup as lead singer, Kravitz as main guitar, Johann as bassist, Sloane as the keyboardist, and Ren as the drums. Avi is a gaming streamer who moves into the Fangs' house unknowing of their popularity.

you can also read this on ao3 <3

“I can’t go on there, Sloane.”

The cracks in the concrete steps outside the venue could swallow Johann up if they wanted to. Staring right into the mysterious, dark depths, he hopes that they do. 

“You don’t have to. I’ll cover for you,” Sloane says. She is sitting right next to Johann, long legs bent awkwardly on those concrete steps. She knows she sounds stupid when she says something like that, but it doesn’t stop her from saying it. 

Johann hangs his head down and runs his fingers through his scalp. He wants to pull out his curls and disappear right there. “I’m almost desperate enough to believe you can do something like that.”

“Wow, you didn’t even call me an asshole this time. You must be really stressed.”

“I am!! I am and I hate it,” Johann stomps the heel of his boot against a small pebble on one of the concrete steps. He realizes immediately how ugly and childish it must look to see a grown man stomping against the ground like that. He crosses his arms over his chest and growls to himself. “I feel like, fuck, I feel the same way I did on our first show. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

The sharp features of Sloane’s face soften under the warm, incessantly buzzing light bulb from above the venue’s doorway. Johann thinks he might just claw her face off for daring to give him that look. Which is dumb, of course, Sloane’s his friend. That fact is so apparent when she hands him a braided, leather necklace cord. It’s a ritual the two of them started, way back in their beginning years. When Johann had these fits more openly. 

Sloane fiddles with the buttons of her fingerless gloves, saying, “Johann, if you’re feeling that bad, we can delay the show. No one’s going to shoot you for it.”

“No, no, we can’t,” Johann shakes his head and bites on the cord, shaking and biting it real hard in hopes that it’ll get all the anxious energy out of him, “I can’t delay the show because I’m… acting up, or whatever.”

“What’s bothering you this time, then?”

Explaining it would feel like needles being jabbed through his tongue. The light above them beats down on Johann’s skin and exposes him to the dark, lively night waiting to tear him apart. Still, he has to say something. Has to explain himself and be vulnerable again. Isn't that just the best part of having bandmates?

“It’s… everything,” Johann hisses out. “It’s the buzzing of electricity, the smell of alcohol and weed mixed with sweaty leather, bright lights and the taste of my own mouth and the sound of my own bass and it’s— it's him. I know, it’s stupid, I haven’t had these issues with our venues in, like, forever, but— something about the stress and everything about it is killing me and making me even more sensitive—”

“Wait a minute,” Sloane says. Her voice is stern and curt. “Who’s ‘him’?”

Oh, great. Johann stares at the cracks in the concrete steps even more intensely than before. “It’s nothing. I don’t know why I said that. Let’s go on stage.”

“No, now you have to tell me. Who the hell can make you act like this?”

“It’s not just him! I’m not that pathetic. It really is the whole sensory thing, but it’s— it’s also, ugh, the idea that this is the first time he’s going to what we are and what I’m singing about and he’s gonna act so different around me I can tell he will and I don’t want Avi to do that— wait, fuck.”

“Oh. This is about Avi, huh?”

There it is. 

Johann throws himself up onto his feet, almost falling off the stairs. He can almost imagine the scene: Little Fangs’ Rockport show cancelled after the bassist eats absolute shit on concrete and completely smashes his teeth to bits while freaking out over his roommate who wears cat-ear headphones finding out they actually were, in fact, a popular band and not some garage project anymore. Yeah, that would make headlines.

Thankfully, Johann catches himself, and swiftly tosses that thought away to head towards the door. “Forget I said anything. I’m not thinking straight. Let’s just go out there and pretend nothing happened, okay?”

Sloane doesn’t get up. She just sits there and cranes her neck to the side to stare at him with furrowed brows and a knowing look in her eye. “If you want that, that’s fine by me, but that just means you’re gonna have to confront this fear of yours head on without any good advice,” she says.

Johann could say something terribly mean about the quality of Sloane’s advice. He almost does. Like a cornered cat, ready to scratch and bite at the one offering safety. He does manage to keep his mouth shut and forces himself to stay put and listen to Sloane.

“Finally. Look, I don’t entirely get what your relationship is with Avi right now. I think it’s obvious, though, that our last few rehearsals have had a new song with lyrics that are so infuriatingly clear it’s about him that it’s been driving me insane that no one else in the band has mentioned it! The fact that it’s taken him this long to recognize it means he might not even realize it now.” Sloane stresses her words very carefully, saying her assurances in a way that don’t necessarily mock anyone, but clearly voices her frustration. Johann’s a little envious of her ability to do that.

“But if he does manage to get the meaning through his skull in this performance, well, what’s the problem? He gets it and he asks you about it after the show. You two talk it out, make out, whatever,” Sloane says, smirking at that last part. “What’s the big deal?”

“Well, um… Avi’s just been a little afraid of what would happen if this whole thing got out, y’know? If that’s gonna change how people interact with us. If it’ll change our relationship.” Johann’s hands are trembling and he runs the toe of his black boots against the cracks of the stairs, but a weight is lifted off his shoulders when he says this. “He barely listens to our rehearsals, you know that. He’s gonna listen when we’re up there, though. That’s always how it’s been with him.”

Sloane sighs and kicks herself up onto her feet. Her long hair sways gently in spring’s night breeze. “If this is such an issue for you guys, then why did you write that song? Why did you pitch it to the band? Why did you go through all of this if this is freaking both of you out?” she asks.

“I didn’t know this was an issue for him when I did it. He brought it up when I had already written it all. He assumed I felt the same, when it’s barely an issue for me! I’ve already had my share of dating drama with Kravitz and Brian—” Johann stops himself to raise his hands to his head and take a few deep breaths. “And… and I can’t just give up that song. I can’t give up the things I write anymore. I’m done with doing that. Isn’t that what you guys begged for me to start doing last year?”

“Not if you think it’ll stress your boyfriend out so badly,” Sloane groans and rubs the bridge of her nose. Johann has to try and stifle the immediate, instinctual refusal he’s had towards the word ‘boyfriend’ for quite some time, because really, what else could they possibly be at this point? “But I guess you got a point. It’s not even a guarantee anyone other than people who are in our circle will figure it out. I shouldn’t beat you up over that.”

Johann doesn’t smoke much anymore, but suddenly he finds himself craving one. “I think it’s less the idea of random crowds figuring out our relationship and more just the whole idea of me… making this whole thing real. By immortalizing my feelings in song. Sending it out into the world. I can’t take that back, you know?” he says. His voice grows a little louder as he throws his head back for some more air, “Our relationship is here now and I’m shoving it out there! Nothing can fall through the cracks once I get on that damn stage.” 

As he says that, both Johann and Sloane’s phones buzz in their pockets. Few minutes left ‘til the show starts. Lup’s probably freaking out. Johann thinks he might collapse then and there. “It’s too late to be quiet now, huh?” Johann mutters to himself. “Just gotta suck it up and get up there.”

Sloane bites the inside of her cheek, nice and hard. The two stand next to each other in silence, only the drone of the light bulb above them, and their ragged breaths. Eventually, she says, “You’re right, dude, it might be too late to be quiet now. You might’ve backed yourself into a corner this time.” 

“Haha, very comforting.”

Sloane ignores the sarcasm and places her hand on Johann’s shoulder. It’s light enough on his body that it doesn’t make all his senses go haywire, like they usually do when someone touches him in this state. “That just means you gotta get it together and play louder. Get onstage and really put your heart out for him. Show him that you’re not afraid to put the truth of you two out there. Someone’s got to be brave. Be brave for him.”

Johann doesn’t feel brave. Not when the world feels like it’s attacking him, not when there’s a restless energy filling him to the brim and waiting to burst out in some ugly fashion. Not when he’s so scared of Avi’s reaction.

But… oh, how powerful Johann feels when he’s onstage. Where the noises and voices of the plenty drown under his own loud music. Johann can be brave there, if nowhere else.

“Or, um, whatever. I don’t know. I’m not built for this kind of talk,” Sloane says, playing with the ends of her hair. 

“No, you’re right,” Johann says with a shaky breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, the light bulb is audibly flickering, and the cracks on the ground seem so much larger. “You’re right, Sloane. So, let's tear that stage up.”

Everything is so loud, but Johann can get louder. 

[skykkid]

Bad decisions

Mozenrath and you have a little Enemies with benefits situation going on, but is it really all there is between you two..?

Warning : NSFW

So I wrote this in the span of a few hours, maybe two hours or so, I hope you'll like it. It is not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes, also english isn't my first language. I love this man and i believe he deserves more attention. So here, I'm feeding the Mozenrath simps, enjoy :D !

This fic is also available on Ao3 @Littlespicyburrito

CHAPTER 1 : GROWING AFFECTION

Part 2

“- Wait ! Slow down..!” he urges in a breathy voice ending in a broken moan. I smirk down at him. “Why should I ?” I mock him. He bites his lower lip and inhales sharply, holding back a whimper as I sink back down on his cock in one go. This is way too entertaining. Seeing the dark sorcerer of the Land of the Black Sands reduced to a shaking and whimpering mess under me is too gratifying. “- Wait !” he groans. So I lift my hips at an excruciatingly slow pace, not taking him out of me just yet and I stay there, just hovering over him with the menace of my pussy milking him dry if I decide to sink back down. He glares at me with a mixture of disdain and arousal, like he could burn me with his eyes if he focuses hard enough. “What’s wrong Mozenrath ? Not as resistant as you thought you were ?” I chuckle. His cheeks flush red of anger and embarrassment and my cunt clenches in response to his reaction. I try to burn the image of him in my brain. He looks so pretty like this with his curls sticking to his damp face, his brows drawn together in anger and pleasure and his chest heaving rapidly.

I sink back down slowly on his cock and sigh in pleasure when he hits deep inside me. “Fuck..!” I curse under my breath, and I see his expression change from anger to smugness. “- You’re one to talk..you’re squeezing me so tight I would say you’re not very far either…” he mumbles. His words make my pussy clench and he hisses with a smirk looking into my eyes. “See..” he whispers bringing his hands up to squeeze my hips. The cold of his right leather glove is a big contrast with the warmth that emanates from his left hand. Even during sex the sorcerer doesn’t take off his precious weapon. Somehow the thought irritates me a little. It is proof that he doesn’t trust me completely. And he’s right. Who in their right mind would let their guard down around their number one enemy’s buddy ? It shows how smart he is. Another thing that irritates me and excites me at the same time. Mozenrath is so smart. Unlike me, who’s fucking the number one public enemy of Agrabah and the seven deserts. Jasmine had warned me about him. About his temperament, his thirst for power, his cruelty. We all witnessed it first hand at Dagger rock, and many other occasions. And still, here I am, sinking up and down on his cock again and again, not being able to think about anything else than him, and how pretty, how sexy he looks. How good he makes me feel. His grip on my hips hardens, pulling me out of my train of thoughts and to look into his dark irises. He suddenly straightens up, the shift in position making him hit a new spot deep inside of me and a high pitched whimper leaves my lips. He grabs my throat with his gloved hand and bring our faces closer together. “- Stop spacing out and focus !” he says in an angry tone, his voice still breathy. “ I am focused..!” I protest with a broken whimper. “ -Then look at me !” he orders me in that authoritative tone of his. My cunt clenches in response and he takes my right nipple between his lips to suck on it. His left hand moves from my hip to my waist and his hips rock faster into me. “- You should only think about me and nothing else..! I’m going to rule over the seven deserts..! Therefore you should already be doing as I say..Ahh..Look at me when I’m fucking you..!” he orders me in between moans. And I do. 

Usually when we encounter one another in a fight we bicker and berate each other. Here, in one of the bedrooms of his dark citadel, all my self control and inner fighting spirit dies. It’s so easy to fall for his commands, to submit to him. We lock eyes and for a split second I think I see something other than disdain and the need to control me in his eyes. My head falls forward and rests on his shoulder for support. He smells so good. Warm like the desert sand, and herbal and spicy. Probably from composants of spells that I don’t know anything about. This is bad. I shouldn’t think those thoughts about him. He’s my enemy. It’s fine. He doesn’t know. I bury my face in his neck and suck on the soft skin that’s usually covered in bandages there, leaving a purple bruise. He groans in response and I feel myself teetering over the edge of orgasm. I don’t want to come yet. Not before him. 

“-Ah I’m close..!” he warns me, which surprises me. His gloved hand harshly grabs a chunk of my hair and he makes me look at him. “-You’re going to come with me..! And say my name..!” He orders me again. A moan involuntarily escapes me. I am so close to come but I need a little something more. “I need you to rub my clit..!” I urge him and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “- Such an annoying woman..” he grumbles but does it. His left hand leave my waist and sink in the space where out bodies connect. He rubs my clit in a circular motion, just like he did with his tongue a few moments earlier and the extra motion makes the pleasure spike in my guts. “Moze..! I’m gonna..!” I warn him. “-Yeah..? Do it… Come for me !” he whispers, and a few more strokes of his cock make the tension inside me snap. I feel him pulse inside me and my cunt clenches repeatedly around him. I press my lips to his and kiss him hard. His eyes widen in surprise for a few seconds but he doesn’t push me away. A series of moans leave our lips as he fucks me through my orgasm and his. When the high of our orgasm subsides I rest my head against his shoulder as we catch out breaths. “- That’s a good street rat… you know how to follow an order…” he mumbles, smugness in his voice. I straighten up in annoyance, about to berate him when my breath catches in my throat again. He looks beautiful. The tension usually present in his body from overworking himself and being angry has been washed away and the look of smugness in his eyes is relaxed. The insults I had in mind for him disappear and I stay silent. “- What ?” he asks with a frown and his usual disdainful tone, the relaxation I saw a few seconds ago  gone from his face. “Nothing…” I mumble as I lift myself off his cock. “I have to hurry and go..” I say avoiding eye contact with him. I put my clothes back on quickly, aware of his gaze on me. I have no idea about what he’s thinking right now but I hope he doesn’t pick up on the discomfort I feel. It’s always like this after we’re done fucking. I get up and leave as fast as I can so he doesn’t pick up on the growing affection I have for him. It would be terrible if he knew. “- Did you like it..?” he suddenly asks and I turn towards him surprised by his question. I bite back a chuckle at the thought of Mozenrath being worried about his performance in bed. “Um…Yes..It was…” I pause trying to search for a word that’s flattering for him without making me sound like the lovesick puppy that I am. “It was great..!” I say with a small earnest smile. He nods and looks away, seemingly satisfied by my response. I pause in my movements of putting my clothes back on. “Did you..? Like it I mean..?” I ask sounding more nervous than I would like. He looks at me for a few seconds, his gaze searching something on my features and nods. “It was good…” he says, looking like he wants to add something more, but decides against it. “Hurry up and leave my citadel..” he orders me and I nod silently as I put the last piece of clothes I wore tonight. It was a black two piece set with a skirt and a crop top, similar to what Jasmine usually wore casually around the palace. She had let me borrow them for my “date night”, unaware that I was going to see Mozenrath. She had looked happy about me going on a date with a mysterious guy. The clothes had initially helped me feel confident, now as I was putting them back on they felt like an attire of shame. I silently wondered if it was really worth it, putting all this effort into myself for a man that had truly only eyes for power and nothing else. “See ya…” I tell him as I approach the mirror serving as a portal between my room in Agrabah’s Palace and here. “- Wait.” he says with a stern voice. I turn around to look at him but he stays silent. “What is it..?” I ask curiously. “-…Come back in three days…” he says to me with a strange look in his eyes. “-I can’t, I’m busy, Aladdin and Jasmine want to—”

“- I don’t care… I’m going to need you in three days…” he says in his authoritative tone of voice. I’m about to insult him when something catches my attention. He used the word “need”. Not fuck, not summon, need. 

“- You what..?” I ask unsure if maybe I imagined it. 

“- Are you deaf ? I said I’m going to need you in three days. Be there.” he looks at me with a frown. 

I turn away from him trying to hide the small smile hitching its way on my features. 

“Oh…okay…I’ll be here…” I say and I hear him huff in approval before I step through the mirror that leads me to my bedroom in Agrabah.

[jigenstits]

AAA god i fucking love the idea of Lupin having dermatillomania but no one ever talks about it. Like think about itttttt how would everyone else find out?? Would he not realize it’s a problem until the others talk to him about it? How bad has it gotten? Has he ever had to go to the hospital or something? Has a villain ever found out and tried to use it against him? Are the others worried about it? Does Zenigata know? Has he had to help him with it when Lupin’s in prison? Does Jigen duct tape the gloves of shame on him when his fingers look bad???? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES

OKOK heres my thoughts on it:

those who are close to him have noticed (fujiko and jigen have noticed when they were holding hands with him, zenigata noticed when handcuffing him and goemon noticed bc he just knows JHJGH)

jigen got pretty concerned when he noticed that "oh shit, this man's hands are fucking mangled" and tried to ask him about it to make sure hes alright lupin just brushed it off bc he didnt think it was an issue, jigen didnt really buy it though

he didnt really know what was going on until he noticed lupin picking and biting at the sides of his fingers when hes anxious, then kinda put the pieces together (i feel like hes also caught lupin picking at his skin and nails with tweezers before but didnt really say anything)

it wasnt until he found a ton of little bloodstains on some of lupin's clothes (from cleaning up his fingers when they'd start to bleed) before he really started to worry, he asked to see his hands and got really really fucking worried when he saw dried blood on most of his fingers' nailbeds

and like. lupin had no idea that this wasnt normal so he didnt get why jigen was getting so anxious about it after talking through it, they agreed that it really wasnt healthy and that jigen would help to stop him from doing it so often

so now whenever jigen catches him picking at his fingers he always reminds him to stop, which was very difficult for him for the first few months since. holy shit the urge to mutilate his fingers is so insanely strong and not being able to do it is getting very distressing

but jigen would be patient with him and help him find other things to do to distract from the urges or find ways to keep his hands out of sight, like keeping them in his pockets, wearing gloves, ect

lupin still does pick and bite at his fingers until they bleed, but not nearly as often as he used to, and it really only gets bad when hes super stressed

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 3: Glove Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, public sex, fingering, glove kink, is finger sucking a warning? it is now, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Maybe you should be a little bit more subtle about how much you want Din.

A/N: hi this is the late day 3! I thought i was gonna do 3 and 4 tonight but stuff came up so 4 and 5 should be out tomorrow! Also i think this is the first Din thing i've ever written.

Din knows that your eyes linger on him when he works, whether it’s catching bounties or cleaning his blasters, your gaze tracks him with blatant yearning. He was glad that even if his helmet restricted many things in life, at least his emotions were concealed beneath the impenetrable beskar and cold vocoder. It’s not any different this time. You’re sitting in the back of some outer-rim cantina sitting across from Din as he surveys the room, eyes glued to the way the yellow lights reflect and bounce on every surface of his armor. 

Of course Din doesn’t tell you that he can see you, that his head may be turned but he’s noting each clench of your thighs, each pass of your tongue over your lips. It’s amusing to say the least, he finds it almost pathetic how you can’t seem to keep ahold of yourself in his presence. Although you’ve run out of things around you to look at and busy yourself with. You’re skilled in combat and handy with a weapon when needed, but Din does the rest, such as waiting in shadows and silence for the right moment to pounce on a target. 

Which is exactly why you’re in the rundown cantina in the first place. A tip had come in from a reliable source that the man whose puck you currently carried in your pocket frequented this place in particular. Obviously not that reliable, seeing as the two of you have been sitting here for hours without a sign of him. The light from the dual suns is dwindling, the orange glow from outside the windows turning to purples and blues. The room is starting to empty itself, everyone collectively deciding to turn in for the night and laying down their credits for the bartender before seeing themselves out.

Except for you and the Mandalorian.

“Are we leaving yet?” you question, acutely aware of how you sound like a petulant child. In reality, you’re just massively turned on and need the (semi)privacy of the razor crest. 

“No. This place doesn’t close for another hour, he could still show up,” Din replies, voice hoarse and dipped in molten heat. The same heat that occupies your body as you listen to him speak. You’re not exactly sure when it became this bad, turned into biting your hand as you fucked yourself in his bunk, watching a little closer at how his back twitches under your touch while you stitch a blade wound. 

Focusing on how his hands toss assailants around like it’s nothing.

“Okay, can I at least head back to the ship? We’ll meet there,” you try to negotiate as he tilts his head in your direction, something like a sigh leaving him. His fingers tap on the table between you, gloves flexing around his hand as it moves. 

He doesn’t answer immediately this time, his fingers stopping the rhythmic movement to instead clench into a fist, your stare still locked on his hands. Hands that you’ve thought about so many times before. Din clearing his throat snaps you out of your trance, looking up to see him leaning back against the booth, legs spread wide. 

“Tell me mesh’la,” you’re not exactly sure how, but his voice is lower now “how often do you think about my fingers wrapping around your throat?” 

Shock riddles your brain following his bluntly delivered question, the rest of your body shivering at his tone and how it drips with hunger. You glance out of the darkened corner booth you're seated in, the only people remaining are the bartender and passed out straggler on the other side. Slowly, you turn back to him. His visor reveals nothing and you wonder for a second if you imagined him saying it. Still, you lick your lips and murmur a soft “what?”

Din regards you as you squirm in your seat, turning to jerk his head to the left and pat the spot next to him. It feels as if you’re moving through the thickest water in the galaxy when you start to shift and push yourself around to his side, not looking away from him even when your knee bumps into his as you settle. The cool leather of his glove brushes against your cheek, curving down to cradle the line of your jaw. “I want you to tell me how much you think about me when you’re two fingers deep into your own cunt,” he speaks again, this time slower. 

He watches the realization dawn over your pretty face, gloved thumb pressing gently against the plush cushions of your lips. “You can hear me?” you whisper, clenching your thighs once more, except this time he’s close enough to feel it. “Usually you think I’m sleeping,” he confirms, watching your spit coat the tip of his thumb when your mouth parts just the slightest.

How long has he known?

Lifting his arm, Din moves it to rest on the back of the booth, turning his body to keep his other hand on your face. Your tongue darts out to brush against the tip of his glove, moaning quietly when he allows you to lower your head and suck on the digit. “Do you want me to make you feel good, honey?” Din sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of restraint, voice more strained than before. 

You shouldn’t, you know there’s still people in the building, but all your brain can focus on is the ragged rise and fall of the mandalorian’s chest. 

And fuck, you really are tired of not knowing what it’s like. 

Pulling your head back and off his finger, you nod frantically “yes, Din, please.” Almost instantly he’s pushing his index and middle fingers past your lips once more, grunting when you circle them with your tongue. Once they’re covered in your spit he pulls them out with a soft pop, dragging them down your cloth covered torso before pushing past the waistband of your trousers and curling them into you. The back of your head blooms with a sharp pain when you throw it back against his beskar covered arm, pleasure quickly covering the pain when he pumps them once, then twice. 

Fuck, he didn’t even bother taking the gloves off, yet somehow it makes it better. The mere acknowledgment that he’s finger fucking you with his gloves still on is enough to make your cunt flutter around him. “Come on, I know you’re close. You practically rode the booth for the last few hours,” his voice is strained, a lilting tease playing at the tip of his tongue and it makes you laugh breathily. The laugh quickly morphs into a whine, brows furrowing as you turn your face against his arm, condensation forming on the cold metal. 

He curls his fingers inside you repeatedly, adjusting his wrist so his thumb can find your clit and press circles into it. “Feels so good, wanted you for so long, fuck Din,” he hushes you gently, still aware of your location and missing bartender. Hips pressing down into his hand you start a rhythm, rocking into his hand like you’ve been hit with the strongest aphrodisiac in the galaxy. 

Din’s silent now, entirely honed in on you now, watching as your back arches and you come with a shuddering cry. He presses the head of his helmet to your temple, slowing the movement of his fingers until you stop shaking. “Good, cyare,” he pulls his hand from your bottoms and taps your cheek, cock throbbing in his pants when your jaw relaxes and allows his fingers in. You pull back and grin, eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“That was much better than anything I thought of,” you say, voice wavering.

Din is about to answer but stops when the hiss of a door sounds out. “What’s wrong?” you whisper, head clearing enough to reach down for your blaster.

“I think we have company.”

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[hansensgirl]

you better not shout, better not cry.

summary. | they know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.

pairings. | Dark!Sebastian Stan x Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader, Dark!Charles Blackwood x Reader, Dark!Chris Evans x Reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader, Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Dark!Andy Barber x Reader.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, gang bang, eight-some, (forced and not forced) drinking, manipulation, coercion, dark themes, crimes, threatening, slight angst, mentions of cheating, age gaps, Daddy kink, Sir kink, power dynamics, boss/employee relationships, face fucking, oral (m receiving), dom/sub, finger sucking, degrading, praise, humiliation, voyeurism, fingering, double penetration, cum marking, facials, anal, unprotected sex, cream-pie kink, slapping, spanking, smoking, choking, hair pulling, manhandling, + more. 18+, DARK FIC.

word count. | 13k.

authors note. | merry christmas/happy holidays! please be wary of the warnings, and have yourself a merry christmas and/or a great day! don’t use my gif without permission, and don’t forget to read and reblog because i worked so hard on this. IF YOU’RE INSPIRED BY THIS FIC OR WANT TO USE A SIMILAR PLOT PLEASE MESSAGE ME FIRST OR ELSE YOU’LL BE BLOCKED. love you all sm! also gonna be submitting this to my bb @mypoisonedvine’s festive holiday challenge! (ty for beta-ing and putting up with me).

Make my wish come true… All I want for Christmas is you…

A group of women erupts in laughter as they point at one of the ugly sweaters that their coworker wears. The man burns up with shame before grumbling off, making you furrow your eyebrows. You stifle a laugh, before grabbing a sugar cookie that you baked yourself. Little red sprinkles fall to the floor as you bite into the treat, the sound drowned out by the others.

The melodious voice of Mariah Carey starts playing and everyone cheers; you included. You quickly shut up, though, realizing how stupid you must look. Standing there by yourself, an elf costume on, stuffing your face full of cookies as you yell.

You find comfort in the numerous Christmas-themed treats — from sugar cookies to Rice Krispies, to cake pops. Your mouth salivates at the sight even though you just had a cookie. Everything is so irresistible… “Merry Christmas Eve!” A cheery voice calls from behind you, and your heart quickens its pace.

“Oh- uh, Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Mr. Barnes.” You stammer in shock, careful to not look up at him. You fiddle your crumb-covered fingers together, a habit that you have yet to lose. “No need to be nervous, doll. Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks, grabbing one of the cookies that are covered in green sprinkles. It’s shaped like a Christmas tree, and it’s one of your favourites.

“Uh, yes, Sir!” You answer quickly and nervously. Undeniably, everyone knows that Mr. Barnes drips with eloquence and dominance. As soon as he walks into the room, everyone either wants to be with him or be him. Everyone vies after him, and he knows that. He knows that, and he just makes it worse and worse and- “Why’re you alone by the snack table, doll?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Oh well- I’m not overly friendly with the others- I mean I’m not rude to them! I’m just not close to them, that’s all.” You ramble nervously, wringing your hands. Bucky places a heavy hand on your shoulder and the butterflies in your start fluttering even harder and faster.

You struggle to look him in the eyes, those darned cerulean eyes that make you weak in the knees. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that… Have you been drinking, doll?” He asks you, and you choke on your saliva. “Oh I don’t drink, sorry if I’m being annoying…” You sheepishly apologize, realizing how out of line you must be acting. Truthfully, Mr. Barnes always has that effect on you.

“Uh- I should probably go see if everything is in order.” You say before Mr. Barnes can say anything else to you. “Happy Holidays!” You call out as you speed walk as far away your legs can take you. Three glasses of eggnog have you wobbling slightly but you’re determined to be far away from Mr. Barnes and the others.

In a way, they aren’t really your bosses. They’re just the CEOs and your boss is the head of the HR department. …Perhaps they are your bosses, but you’ve never really talked to them much. Mr. Bodecker’s temper always frightens you, Mr. Blackwood’s stare would always have you shaking, Mr. Barnes’s aura always makes you weak, and then there’s Mr. Stan himself. Everything about him sends numerous emotions through you and others as well.

You lean back against the wall and pull your phone out, sighing with a heavy heart. You’re not sure if it’s the heavy nostalgia of seeing Santa Claus sitting on a throne or the wallpaper on your screen but either one makes you tear up slightly. You already took photos of the party, and you’ve already sent well wishes to your friends, family and coworkers.

You look back up from your phone and try to decide whether or not you should scroll through your camera roll just to look busy to others. Whilst you ponder with your hazy mind, you accidentally lock eyes with Santa Claus. Younger you would’ve freaked out, but older you burns up with embarrassment. Suddenly, his white-gloved hand beckons you to him with a come-hither motion.

You point at yourself just to make sure because only you know how many mistakes you’ve made of thinking that someone was pointing at you. He nods and smiles, but you’re still not sure. Call it paranoia, call it anxiety, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to make a fool of yourself on Christmas Eve.

You’re still unsure, so you look around and everyone else is off getting wasted in the main hall. Shiny confetti crunches under your flats as you hesitatingly walk over to Santa. He flashes you a smile and maybe it’s the egg nog talking but his pearly whites look awfully familiar to you. A waitress crosses your path, like a deer suddenly crossing the road. The platter that she holds gets slightly jilted but the shot glasses of tequila survive and her too.

You stop her and grab a couple of shots, taking them down the hatch with no shame at all. Liquid fire claims your throat as you have no remorse for your future self who’ll be hugging a toilet in the morning. You cough and sputter as you continue your way to Santa Claus. “Merry Christmas Eve, little girl!” He cheers delightfully.

You giggle drunkenly, the kind of laugh that would make anyone fall for you. “Oh, so no ‘Merry Christmas Eve’ for me? Seems like someone is asking for coal, or maybe even a spanking.” He drawls in a slight country-Santa accent. Perhaps your ears aren’t deceiving you, but there's no plausible way that Santa Claus just said… that.

“Oh— uh— Merry Christmas Eve!” You whoop, before bursting out in another fit of bubbly giggles. He laughs with you, but only for a few moments before taking in your appearance. Though you’re drunk on tequila, a few sips of wine from before the party and eggnog, he’s aiming to get drunk on your aura. Quiet yet sweet, a nervous mess that only furthers your adorable-ness and amazing desserts.

“See something you like, Mr. Claus?” You question him, snapping him out of his daze. You wiggle your eyebrows to your best ability, but you’re no actress. “Well, maybe I do, little girl.” He winks at you, and you swear that you’ve seen him before. “Wait- Do you work here? Or did we just hire you?” You ask him, as though you’re interviewing him.

“Can’t hire Santa Claus, little girl.” He disappointingly clicks his tongue. You let out an ‘oh’ before letting out a small laugh. He smiles at you and you bite your lipstick stained lip. Your coworkers are chanting in the background but you choose to artfully block them out. Maybe you’re not choosing, and it’s just the alcohol doing its wonders.

“I’m not little, why are you callin’ me little girl?” You slur your words as you question him again. “You are a little girl, and I can’t believe you’re back talking to Santa!” He scolds you, making your eyes water. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and you’re doing the best puppy eyes that you can. “You been drinking a lot, huh little girl?” He asks you, turning the tables and you gladly let him.

“Yep! Gotta stay hydrated…” You tell him in a sing-song voice that makes him chuckle. “Silly little girl, getting all drunk in front of her coworkers…” He chides, grabbing your almost flailing arms. He pulls you up into his lap with a grunt, even though it doesn’t take much strength. You’re immediately reminded of the way he used to sit you in his lap.

Spinning you around in circles at first, loud giggles and begging for them to stop. Perhaps it’s fortunate that the alcohol renders your mind fuzzy and you can only make out a few colour blobs. “Whaddya’ want for Christmas, little girl?” He teasingly questions, smoothing a white-gloved hand over your hair. “Hmm, I can have anything?” You ask him, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth. He nods, taking his thumb and lifting it to your mouth.

Oh, how he has the urge to just push his thumb past your lips and make you choke on it. “Well… I want a raise, even though I’m not all that worthy of the company… Just like my ex said, I’m easily replaceable. Oh! Can I ask for another thing?” You perk up even though your throat burns with sadness and your eyes are almost leaking.

Interested, Lee nods and drags his thumb across your rouge top lip. If he didn’t have a wife who drags him to makeup stores on the regular, he would’ve thought your lipstick was expensive. But it isn’t, because there’s no way your paycheck can afford a lipstick from Hermes or Christian Louboutin. “Can I know why my boyfriend left me? I know I may seem dull and quiet, but I have more to myself…” You sadly ask him, ashamed of how he abandoned you for one of your closest friends.

Lee’s heart breaks in two — making him question whether or not he had a heart after all. Insults had him believing that he’s heartless, but you’re making him question every fibre of his being. “I’m sorry about that, little girl. But what we don’t know can’t hurt us, right? Curiosity killed the cat, little girl.” He reminds you, talking down to you as though you truly are a little girl. “But satisfaction brought it back.” You sass in return, your voice cracking from the impending tears and alcohol.

“You need to listen to me, little girl. Your boyfriend doesn’t know jackshit about treating a girl like you right. He probably doesn’t even know where your clit is.” He scoffs abruptly. You lean in, listening to him as though he’s the wisest man ever. “Bet he can’t fuck that tight lil’ pussy a’ yours as well as a real man like me can.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your core.

“Didn’t know Santa Claus had such a filthy mouth…” You tease him, running your hands up and down his thick thighs. He groans, his cock stiffening up inside his red trousers.

“But, before anything like that happens… I would really like to have a raise.” You say with a heavy-hearted sigh. Lee has the urge to grab you tightly and shove his big, hard cock into any wet hole of yours. “Alright, little girl. But you need to continue to be a good girl, or else I won’t be able to get you anything except for a spanking.” He warns with a faux-smile beneath his fake beard. You giggle and squeeze his thighs, almost like a wave goodbye.

You stumble off, probably to go pee or hurl your guts into a toilet. He watches as your hips sway with each step of yours. The sight fuels the thought of you grinding yourself on his cock as you beg him to fuck you. He notices the party has died down to just people humping each other to party songs. Grumbling, Lee pulls the awfully fake beard away from his handsome face. Before, he was cursing his luck for drawing the short stick to become Santa. But now, he’s glad.

He’ll talk to your boss about the raise, maybe along with a promotion. If only the others could mind their own businesses. Literally. He’s glad that he wore only a dress shirt and not the double-breasted suit Jane suggested for him. “You comin’ or what? We gotta’ make these deals before everyone leaves.” Bucky asks as he swiftly walks past Lee. Lee nods and starts to take off the rest of the obnoxious costume. Bucky puts no effort into stifling his chuckle, a known trait of his.

Bucky smooths his hair back, even though not one strand is out of place. His arm whirrs wildly and his fist clenches every few seconds. His stress symptoms were the worst, but they’ve never been this bad. It’s risky; the deal that they’re about to make. For months, they had been making secret bribes, forging numbers and signatures, and putting their employees in loopholes from their contracts. But this deal was the riskiest. Their plan was well thought out, all thanks to Charles, whose middle name might as well be devious.

He stands in front of one of the glass doors. His reflection looks back at him. Somehow, the dark look in his eyes becomes enhanced. His huge frame only makes him more intimidating, but he knows that no woman ever had a problem with it. Except for one. “You comin’?” Lee asks as he brushes past Bucky, mocking his words from earlier on. Bucky rolls his eyes like a spoiled rich kid because he is one.

Bucky buttons his suit jacket and exhales one last time. He walks to his right and pushes the door open with only a little bit of strength. Laughter from different men fills the room, along with thick tension and the smell of expensive booze. “Oh, look who decided to join us!” Ransom sarcastically jabs at Bucky. “Look who finally got laid. I was beginning to think you couldn’t get it up anymore, Drysdale.” Bucky sneers at him, pouring himself a glass of Dalmore 62.

Ransom grumbles a few curse words under his breath and a prideful smirk spreads across Bucky’s face. They all have their ties loosened, maybe even the top buttons of their shirts but nobody cares enough to look. All but Mr. Stan and Mr. Evans are relaxed. They stare at each other with such glares they could murder one another. They all sit in their chairs, all similar. Except for Mr. Stan, who seems as though he’s sitting on a throne.

“They havin’ a starin’ contest or what?” Lee questions Bucky, downing the rest of the whiskey. “I don’t know, but didn’t they hate each other over some family feud shit?” Bucky asks in return, handing Lee the bottle of highland malt scotch. “Like the game?” Lee jokingly asks, knowing that the two head owners of the companies loved to get into petty squabbles. “We all fucking wish.” Bucky jeers, eliciting a chuckle from Lee. As much as they all hate each other, they always did have their moments when they weren’t insulting each other.

The only one who isn’t drinking, Andy, pipes up from all the talking. “So are we going to make this deal or not? I gotta get home for Christmas.” He grumbles just like the old man he is. “Oh fuck you, Barber. Just because you went to Harvard doesn’t mean you’re some busy guy.” Steve jabs, clenching his jaw in annoyance. He always hated Andy, and he proudly showed it.

Charles snickers, Ransom too. Lee and Bucky smirk from the sidelines. Andy clicks his tongue in a threatening way. But Sebastian and Chris send daggers in the form of glares at them. “I suppose we could sign the contracts and then celebrate… I could call the girls from Eighteen30’s.” Sebastian proposes, standing up from his seat. He emerges from the darkness like Batman, his beautiful eyes gleaming in the light. Everyone in the room groans in pleasure, recalling the moments they remembered from the last time they went to Eighteen30’s.

Andy pulls the contract out of his briefcase; an obvious “Andy” move. The sounds of glasses being set down on surfaces fill the room at different pitches. Evans simply turns around, stroking his beard as if he wants to say something. “Got something to say, Evans?” Charles asks him, giving him a devilish smile. “No, just thinking about how I’m gonna be rich as fuck once the ink dries.” He says in almost a hopeful manner. He thinks he has everyone deceived, but it’s the total opposite.

They all choose to keep quiet, wanting to just sign the goddamn papers and get it over with. “Just to be sure… We all know what this entails, right? More money, more power.” Sebastian states, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He never minds the burn, he actually loves it. They all nod, because who doesn’t love money and power? They all pull a pen out of their jackets, ever the businessmen. One by one, in smooth black loops, they sign their full names on the contracts.

Sebastian and Chris are the last to sign because their names carry the most weight. Charles lights his pipes and sighs as he takes a drag of smoke from it. As Lee watches Charles puff the smoke out of his mouth, he has the urge to light up a cigarette. But he can’t, because his doctor told him not to. So now he has to suffer the pain of fighting away that urge and Charles all but taunts him. He watches, and he fights, and he watches until he snaps.

“‘Scuse me.” He says, getting up. “Are you going for the champagne?” Sebastian asks, tracing the rim of his glass. Lee nods, lying to his business partner and longtime friend. “I’ll come with, can’t fucking stand the darkness.” He grumbles, following Lee. They both appreciate the fact that the part is still lively, maybe even more as booze has taken over everyone’s body. “Hey man, sorry you had to be Santa this year.” Sebastian apologizes, clearing his throat beforehand.

It’s not unexpected. Lee already knows that Sebastian is comfortable with him. “Ah, it’s alright. Only had to talk to a couple ‘a horny girls and Mrs. Patterson’s son. That lil’ fucker is cute an’ all, but he fuckin’ drooled on my hand.” Lee rants to him, making him let out a chuckle. “Well, the girls weren’t all that bad, right?” Sebastian questions him, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “They were… somethin’. Most of them were obnoxious, except for one of ‘em.” Lee admits to him.

“Oh really? Anyone I might know?” Sebastian continues, handing Lee a cigarette. Lee gruffly thanks him and hands him his Valentino lighter. “Hmm… not sure. I don’t think anyone really knows her, she seems quiet. But she was drunk, so that was nice.” Lee tells him, sparing certain details. “She wanted a raise, and to know why her boyfriend left her for some other girl. I think it was her friend. Either way, she nearly started cryin’ on my lap.” Lee recounts to him, something he’d only do with his therapist.

Besides fucking her, of course.

“Oh… maybe we could give her a raise. Do you see her here?” Sebastian asks him with a smirk on his face. Lee wonders if Sebastian is thinking of the same thing that he is, and vice versa. Lee’s blown out eyes scan the crowd for you, hoping you’re still here. Maybe perhaps even more drunk than before. “She’s in this burgundy dress and had a mini Santa hat on… Red lipstick too.” Lee describes to him. Sebastian nods his head and keeps on looking for you.

“Think she had lingerie on underneath the dress… probably wanted to get back with her boyfriend.” Lee begrudgingly admits to Sebastian, finishing his cigarette. Smoke flies from both of them yet nobody seems to care. “How do you know she had lingerie on?” Sebastian teasingly asks him. Lee’s face burns up with slight embarrassment. “I… I was feeling her up, I couldn't help myself. She was all over me in the cutest way possible.” Even though Lee doesn’t give a rat’s ass about God, he’d swear on her that he’s telling the truth.

“Is that her?” Sebastian asks him, pointing at you as you walk out of the women’s bathroom. “Yeah…” Lee puts out his cigarette and throws it beside him, leaving it for the janitor to pick up. Sebastian does the same, aiming his cigarette more accurately. “Fuck, that little doll? I’ve always had my sights set on her. Always so cute and shy… Never bothered anyone.” Sebastian groans, hoping— no, knowing that Lee and the others are on the same boat as he.

“I have an idea,” Lee says, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sebastian follows him, going along with whatever his idea is. From your spot at the snack table, you manage to fill your now empty stomach with your sugar cookies. You’re slightly disappointed that not many of your treats have disappeared, but you tell yourself the night is still young. You look up at the sound of footsteps coming closer and nearly choke on a cookie.

“Oh my— uh, Merry Christmas Eve, Mr. Stan and Mr. Bodecker!” You cheer, stumbling on your words and yourself. “Hi, darlin’,” Lee says, giving you his signature ‘ladies only’ smile. You feel yourself become shy at the sight, but Mr. Stan makes you look back up. He clears his voice and you take in both of them. They both stand tall and intimidating, with enchanting stares that just capture you. “Merry Christmas Eve to you too, little girl,” Sebastian says, taking in your form.

You look absolutely adorable and innocent in front of them. In your little burgundy dress and Santa hat… slightly tipsy with cookie crumbs all over your face. “We came over here to ask you for a quick favour… We just closed one of our biggest deals and we’d love for you to help us bring the champagne. Maybe make a toast with us? It’s the least we can do since you brought all these lovely treats.” Lee explains, grabbing himself a sugar cookie.

It’s identical to the one you have in your hand; except yours is half-eaten and his only has a small nibble. “M- Me? Really?” You ask in shock, nearly going into full cardiac arrest. They probably don’t even know your name, but that doesn’t matter. At least they’re talking to you. “Yep! Unless someone else made all these delicious desserts.” Sebastian jokes around, slightly admitting that he tried a cookie. You shake your head in object and lace your sweaty fingers together.

God, why did you have to drink?

“I’d love to, Sirs.” You whisper with the utmost grace you can muster up whilst being half-drunk. They both nod and Lee places a heavy arm around your shoulders. The cookie in your hand breaks and you not so discreetly drop all the crumbs onto the floor. “Can I ask what the deal is for?” You question, not even daring to look up from the floor. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry your cute little brain about,” Sebastian tells you with a smile, quickly shutting you up and shutting the topic down.

They lead you to the bar and Sebastian makes a simple gesture with his hand. The bartender makes quick work of getting five champagne bottles and you’re easily amazed. Without realizing it, your jaw drops slightly in awe. Both Sebastian and Lee chuckle at how cute you are. The sounds are absolute heaven and they force you to realize something.

Holy-fucking-shit— You have feelings for your bosses.

You choke on your saliva at the epiphany, making Sebastian and Lee jump to you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” Sebastian asks you, rubbing your back gently. Lee does this same, but his hand inches down to the small of your back. With anyone, you would jerk away and feel very uncomfortable. But with them… With them, it’s the complete opposite. You nod as you slowly calm down. The bartender sets the numerous bottles of champagne down on the bar.

Two bottles of Dom Pérignon, two bottles of Boërl & Kroff Magnum and one bottle of Goût de Diamant Brut. It’s the most expensive champagne in the world, costing $1.2 million. But to them and the company, it’s no big deal. You only know the price because he would rave about it on and on. You sniffle at the memory and Lee shushes you in a calming matter.

“Here, you lift this one, and we’ll carry the rest,” Lee instructs, handing you one of the bottles of Dom Pérignon. You hold onto the bottle tightly, but not too tightly. Sebastian and Lee point to where they’re going to celebrate, just to direct you. You walk in small steps, careful to not drop the bottle. They’d probably murder you if you did. “Right there, little girl… I— uh, I heard you wanted a raise, is that true?” Lee asks you, desperate to hear your lovely voice.

“Uh yeah, I just haven’t had a raise since I’ve been working here. All my coworkers are constantly getting raises…” You sheepishly admit to your two bosses. They nod and frown, how long has that been going on? They’ve kept their eyes on you since you started working here. You reach the door and you don’t open it because your two hands are occupied. Lee oddly knocks on the door, perhaps in a code. A few seconds pass, but the alcohol in your system makes it feel like an eternity.

Mr. Barnes opens up the door and gasps at you. “Nice to see you again, little girl.” He greets, smirking down at you. The sober version of you would’ve noticed the plethora of men in the room, but drunk-you can’t focus on too much at once. You nod shakily, swallowing thickly as you remember your encounter with Bucky earlier this evening. Bucky takes the champagne bottle from you and leads you inside, Sebastian and Lee following.

Bucky briefly leaves the room after setting down the bottle of champagne on one of the tables. It’s incredibly dark in the room and you can only make out the lights coming from the city. Sebastian flicks the lights on and you bite back a hiss at the sudden change. You look around and nearly drop dead right there and then. The company’s biggest enemies are here, smug as ever. “I… Huh?” You’re confused, not sure if your mind is playing a wicked trick on you.

Mr. Blackwood takes a drag from his pipe and then puts it out, the only remnants of it being the scent of smoke. In front of you, though, are Mr. Drysdale, Mr. Barber, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Evans. “Is this the little minx you’ve been telling us about?” Steve asks your bosses, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Yep, even better in person,” Bucky says, pushing your hair to the side. “What’s going on?” You ask, trying to move away from him. Lee quickly stops you, his pudgy stomach pushing you closer to Bucky.

“Like I said before, little girl. Nothin’ for you to worry your little brain about.” Lee says, his country drawl sending shivers throughout your body. Little girl… The nickname is all too familiar, and it’s not like anyone else with a country accent would call you that. “You were Santa Claus?” You ask him, slightly nudging him. “She’s smart… Can’t fucking wait to make her go all stupid for our cocks.” Ransom says, a smug half-grin on his face.

You whimper at his words because they’re straight out of your greatest fantasies.

“Oh you like that, don’t you? You really wanna be dumb and stupid for our cocks?” Bucky asks in a condescending tone. You shake your head no because all you want is to get out of here. “Let’s get the real party started…” Chris ominously says, grabbing a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He pops it open, the wooden cork flying to the other side of the room.

Foam pours out of the bottle and everyone cheers, minus yourself. Instead, you flinch and still try to move from their grasps. Andy hands him the glasses and he pours everyone half a glass. You, on the other hand, receive a full glass with a strawberry inside. “I- I think I had enough to drink tonight…” You shyly tell them, inching your body away from Andy. “Nonsense, celebrate with us, little girl.” He objects, beginning to tilt the glass forward.

You shake your head and twist your face away, but Bucky’s metal hand stops you. He roughly grabs your jaw and squeezes until your mouth pops open. Champagne fills your mouth and you refuse to swallow. Lee’s fingers dance across your cheek and clamp over your nose, cutting off your only source of oxygen. “C’mon, swallow it all. Do it like the good little girl you are.” Charles demands, the praise going straight to the pit of your stomach.

You cave because there’s no way you’re winning this. Against your will, you swallow the bubbly golden liquid. Slight carbonation sizzles on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You have to admit, it is absolutely delightful. You now see why rich people drink it like it’s water. “That’s a good girl. See? Wasn’t so bad after all.” Andy praises you, tapping your cheek as though you’re a pet.

You whimper again, feeling Lee and Bucky grab your arms tightly. “As much as I love that cute little dress, I’d prefer to see you out of it,” Ransom smirks, handing Andy another glass of champagne. This time, it’s a glass of Boërl & Kroger Magnum. It’s stronger, much stronger than the previous one. Ransom’s hands come to the front of your favourite dress and a loud rip reverberates throughout the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the room fills with whistles and groans. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl.” Lee groans, his cock swelling up once again. Suddenly, everyone’s trousers are a few sizes too small. They drink in your lingerie-clad form and you grow even shyer underneath their strong gazes. “I don’t know if I wanna fuck you in this little get-up, or rip it off and then fuck you.” Steve groans, palming himself through his dress pants.

You don’t realize until now that they’ve all surrounded you. Andy tilts the glass into your slack jaw and you allow the bubbly beverage to fill your mouth. Why fight it? Plus, there’s no way you can get wasted off of champagne. You can feel a bit of champagne dribble down your chin and towards your cleavage. It has you feeling even more embarrassed and ashamed than you already are.

The sight fuels everyone in the room. “Fuck it,” Steve says, grabbing the glass from Andy. He throws it behind him, a crash reverberating in the room. You flinch at the sound and Ransom cooes condescendingly. “Are you scared, little girl?” Ransom asks you, tilting your chin up to his face. His blue eyes are blown out with lust and darkness. He smashes his lips against yours and you’re not sure whether to kiss him back or not.

A harsh hand squeezing your ass warns you to mimic his movements. The kiss is rough and filled with need. You try to keep up with kiss lips, so focused on doing it correctly. You don’t even realize that you’re being moved to one of the couches and that everyone has been stripped from their suits. The only article of clothing on the men is their boxers. Ransom shoves his tongue into your mouth and you let him dominate you. Sets of hands begin to feel up your body — groping, squeezing, rubbing.

You feel someone else’s lips on your neck, lightly peppering kisses near that sweet spot of yours. As soon as Charles hits it, you melt in all of their hands. “That’s a good girl, yeah.” Chris praises, cupping one of your tits through your bra. The strings on your lingerie are tearing away, the sound echoing in your ears. Your bra and underwear remain, with tethers of red string on them. Sebastian’s hands run up and down your waist, making goosebumps form.

You aren’t sure what Lee, Andy and Steve are doing, but you know their hands are on you somewhere. Then, Ransom pulls away. Your lips are swollen and they even hurt a bit, too. You can feel wetness pooling in your red panties, but you’re too drunk to care about your sudden neediness. You’re worried about what’s going to happen. Lee lifts you and places you on the expensive shag carpet.

You whimper in pain as the carpet digs into your skin remorselessly. “Sorry, baby. It’ll be worth it, don’t worry.” Lee gently tells you, rubbing your cheek. Suddenly, he strikes you harshly. You let out a shriek of pain and fear, but you’re quickly shushed. “Shh, I know you like that, look -- You’re rubbing your thighs together like a lil’ slut.” He jeers, stroking the other cheek. You whimper and shake your head, even though he’s correct.

“Lying isn’t very nice, little girl,” Steve warns, standing next to Lee. You look up at them both, tears welling in your beautiful eyes. The sight makes them even harder than they already are, to the point where it’s almost unbearable. Lee pulls his boxers down and so does Steve. You gasp and your jaw nearly drops. Their cocks bunce up and slap their lower abdomens. Pre-cum leaks from their swollen, red tips. They’re both roughly the same size, but Lee is thicker than Steve.

“You like what you see, little girl?” Steve asks, grabbing the base of his cock. It looks even bigger in his large hands, and you gulp in fear. You’re not sure why you’re nodding, but you can’t stop yourself. Lee gives his cock a few strokes, and Steve grabs a handful of your hair. You whimper loudly as he drags you closer to his cock. “Say ‘ahh’.” Steve teases, before shoving his cock into your mouth.

You’ve done this before, but never with someone of his length and girth. Your mouth and jaw immediately start to hurt at the stretch. His cock is only halfway into your mouth, but it’s quite possibly one of the worst feelings ever. Steve tugs at your hair again, and you take it as a sign to start sucking. You hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head, your tongue laving at the bottom of his cock.

You can feel the different veins on his cock throb, pulsating underneath the wetness of your tongue. He groans above you and the others in the room whistle at you. You’re not sure where to look, so your eyes dart around. You end up locking eyes with the man above you and your squeak around his cock. The vibrations of your voice have him cursing like a sailor. “Fuckin’ hell, little girl. So good at sucking cock.” He praises, petting the top of your head.

You involuntarily hum at the praise, squeezing your thighs together. Suddenly, you’re pulled off of Steve’s cock. You gasp for air, not even realizing how you were barely breathing whilst sucking his cock. Your chest heaves and your heart clamours as Lee drags you closer to him. He slaps the fat tip of his cock on your thrumming cheek. You flinch, feeling sticky pre-cum stain your face. Lee shoves his cock in your mouth the same way Steve did, only this time he forces you all the way down.

Your nose meets his fuzzy, soft tummy. You gag and sputter around his cock, trying to control your very much needed breathing. Lee places both his hands on each side of your head. Somehow, he’s still a bit gentle with you, even though he’s forcing you to suck his cock. He slowly moves your head up and down, moaning softly at the feeling of your wet mouth. Saliva coats his coat with a sticky sheen that only helps you make him feel good and nothing more.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans loudly, tossing his head back. You swallow around his cock, your threat constricting around him for a brief moment. You can feel his heavy balls against your chin for a few moments every now and then. All of a sudden, you’re once again pulled away from his cock. Steve forces himself farther into your mouth, just like Lee.

You feel light-headed from the little bit of air you’re getting. But you know that’s not their priority. Gags fill the room and your eyes roll back into your head. You aren’t pulled off of his cock, yet. “Fuck, I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying this as much as you are, Steve,” Bucky says, only just realizing that you’re trying to alleviate the ache between your legs. Everyone’s eyes fall to your cunt, where you’re rubbing your thighs together and humping the hair like a little bunny.

“Bet she probably doesn’t even realize it…” Ransom smirks, feeling his cock throb. You can only hear some of their words. You don’t know what they’re talking about, but it can’t be good. Steve begins to thrust his cock into your mouth, moving his hips back and forth. His balls slap your chin, his cock stretches your mouth and his moans are the only thing your ears can hear. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He announces, and you shake your head in objection.

You place your hands on his thighs and push him as much as you can. Your efforts are wasted because he doesn’t budge at all. You decide to resort to hitting, but it still doesn’t do anything. Steve suddenly still and his cum shoots down your throat. White stickiness fills your mouth up and you whine loudly. Steve paints your mouth with white streaks and he sighs loudly. He doesn’t pull out even after he’s already come, and you’re confused.

“C’mon, swallow it all like the good little slut you are.” He husks, his voice a bit hoarse. He shoves his cock more into your throat and you have no choice but to swallow it all. As soon as you do, Lee pulls you away from Steve. “Fuckin’ piece of shit.” He grumbles loud enough for only you to hear. He gives a nod to someone and then grabs a hold of your head again. “Shh it’s okay, you can do it. I know you can, you’re a good girl.” He eases, slowly pushing his cock into your wet cavern.

Unlike Steve, Lee is a bit gentler. Maybe it’s because his heart is slightly bigger than his dick. His cock hits your gag reflex and you’re so fucking lucky that you aren’t having any… accidents. Steve’s cum is still lingering in your mouth — musky, a little salty, and sticky. The droplets that are on the side of your mouth roll down Lee’s cock, leaving slight wetness on him that isn’t saliva. As soon as your nose nuzzles against his stomach, he groans.

He keeps your head locked in place for some reason, you’re not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s giving you some time to get used to his thickness. You hum in delight, a way of showing that you’re thankful that he’s sparing you some humanity. He chuckles, stroking one of your cock-filled cheeks. Cold fingers crawl between your thigh and you jump in fear. Your body doesn’t fully jerk away because of Lee’s strength. You can see Bucky smirking from your peripheral view and he rubs your wet cunt through the panties.

You shake your head and try to kick him away, but he stops you from protesting. Bucky spanks your ass harshly, watching as the skin ripples from the force. “Uh uh, stop that. Don’t make me put you over my knee and spank you ‘till you’re bleeding.” He threatens, placing one of his knees on your leg. You try to wiggly away from him, but your attempts are fruitless. You accept defeat, but only for now.

His metal hand returns to your cunt and he grabs the crotch of your soaking wet underwear. Bucky pulls it away from your cunt and you can still see his grin as smug as ever. You look up at Lee and your eyes plead for him to stop it all, but he just rubs your bulging throat. He moans at the slight pleasure and you gulp in fear. His thumb rubs at your cheek whilst Bucky rips your underwear away from your pussy.

Sebastian, Chris, Ransom, Andy, Charles, and Steve watch the sight before them with their hands palming their hard cocks. “She’s so fucking wet, aren’t you, little girl? Bet you got this wet just from sucking their cocks, ‘cause you love it so much. You love being a little slut for us.” He sneers, lightly smacking your cunt. You whimper around Lee’s cock and he grows tired of holding back.

He drags his hips back slightly and moves your head away from his cock, before pushing you back down rather quickly and harshly. You feel Bucky’s fingers trace at your drooling hole, occasionally dipping the tip of one of his fingers inside. He traces your wet lips and your sensitive clit too. You twitch at the sudden stimulation. Lee guides you up and down his cock at a rather decent pace. Your gags, wet noises and Lee’s moans fill the room in a rather melodious manner.

Bucky pushes one finger into your tight cunt, groaning at how your pussy immediately hugs his digit. “God, you’re so fucking tight. This cunt just needs to be destroyed, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, we’re gonna ruin it for any other man.” Bucky chuckles, pushing his digit further into you. He feels around, searching that spot that you haven’t found yet.

“You look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, little girl. So fuckin’ pretty, ‘s like it was made just for me.” Lee cooes at you, thrusting even harder into your mouth. Tears sting your eyes but you ignore them. Bucky let’s put a noise of satisfaction and pride as you clench around his fingers. “There it is… Do you like it when I touch you like that, baby? Yeah, I know you do. Fuckin’ love it.” He husks in your ear, before nibbling on your earlobe.

You squeeze your eyes shut once Bucky starts moving his fingers inside you. Lee fucks your face with sloppy movements, signalling his impending orgasm. You place your hands on his thick, squishy thighs. Your short nails dig into his soft skin slightly as Bucky assaults your g-spot with his metal fingers. Lee pulls out your hair, a delicious sting radiating from your head. The pain makes you sputter once again around his cock, and that’s when Lee loses himself.

Just like Steve, he shoves his cock further down your throat as he hits his orgasm. His hot cum shoots down your throat, some of it filling your mouth up along with his cock. His hips are stilled but his cock is twitching almost wildly in your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue and you’re more ashamed than ever. Hopefully, it’s all over now. You shut your eyes close, unable to look Lee in his eyes.

He gives your cheek a light slap, and this time you don’t shriek or flinch. You swallow obediently around his cock, losing all defiance just so that it can all be over. You cringe at the feeling of his cum sliding down your throat, which is a fleeting moment. Bucky’s other hand reaches down to play with your little pearl of nerves. Suddenly, you’re gushing around his single-digit as it thrusts in and out of your pussy. “You look so pretty when you come, little girl. Such a sight.” Bucky whispers in your ear, kissing your neck.

“Aw, you love this, don’t you?” Lee asks, watching as you struggle to keep yourself together. You shake your head, even though the man above you doesn’t allow you to move. “Yeah, you do. You love sucking your seniors’ cocks and having your bosses watch. That’s why you’re all wet, right? Soaking Bucky’s fingers an’ coming all around them.” Lee presses, pulling his cock out. Somehow, he’s still as hard as ever. Steve too.

You open your mouth up to scream for help, but Ransom quickly stops you. His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes, cutting you off. Your scream for help dies down in your throat and so has all the fight in your body. Bucky continues to fuck you with his finger and his hand doesn’t leave your clit either. His movements are quicker, much quicker. Ransom leans his face close to yours, a dangerous scowl staining his.

“Do you want us to be rough, hm? We can fucking ruin you, and your holes. Are you that fucking stupid to try and scream? Who’s gonna help you anyway? Especially if they walk in to see you bouncing up and down on our cocks, begging for our cum.” He spits, squeezing your throat even tighter. “I— I’m sorry.” You apologize, scared of the man in front of you and the others who surround you.

You can feel yourself slowly losing consciousness, slowly but surely. Tears sting your eyes and begin to leak down your cheeks, maybe Ransom chuckle. You can feel his pinky ring dig into the skin of your neck, just like how you can feel Bucky’s fingers push against your sweet spot. “Do you wanna breathe, or do you wanna cum like a good girl?” He asks lowly, staring right into your eyes. You’re not sure what the right answer is, but you can barely think.

From the loss of oxygen to the way Bucky's fingers and slowing down and denying your pleasure. You feel Ransom’s fingers loosen a bit, almost as if he’s giving you a hint. You’re sure he knows you can’t think straight, and he’s probably going to tease you for it. “I… I wanna cum like-- like a good girl…” You breathlessly admit, feeling your eyes flutter shut. “Please…” You beg, more tears leaking from your glassy eyes.

Ransom lets go of your neck but he doesn’t let you fall. Bucky’s ministrations on your pussy speed up, bringing you closer to the edge. White fire burns in your stomach and cunt as you can feel yourself about to cum. “Please, please, please, Sir…” You unconsciously beg, before starting to sob. “Awe… Look at you, so desperate. Hm? You don’t even care if you were gonna pass out, you just want to come.” Ransoms jabs at you, grabbing your face roughly.

You can see that he’s taken off his boxers, his hard cock hanging between his built thighs. “Do it, come right fucking now.” He demands, before hollowing his cheeks out. You can’t see what he’s doing through your bleary eyesight, but you have a feeling that it isn’t good for you. You let out a gasp as Ransom spit on your face, his sticky salvia painting your left cheek.

It drips down to your open mouth in the worst way possible. You let it roll into your mouth because you can’t stop it. “Oh my God, yes…” You pant desperately as you hit your climax. You cum all over Bucky’s fingers, your cunt spasming. You moan loudly, just like the slut they claim you are. Bucky rubs your clit and continues to finger you until you can barely keep yourself up. “So sensitive… God, I’m gonna have so much fun with this pussy.” Bucky groans, slowing down his movements.

You barely have any time to collect yourself from your heaven-sent orgasm. You’re being lifted and placed on someone else. You rub your eyes and turn around, just to see Andy smirking up at you. His kind-seeming eyes, but his smile tells a different story. You turn back around, just to see your bosses and their deviant partners surrounding you. Charles steps forward with his signet ring-decorated hand wrapped around his cock.

He stares you down as he spits in his hands and brings it to his cock. He strokes himself slowly, the salvia making lewd squelching sounds. Andy’s hands crawl up your ass to your soft thighs. He grabs your skin and spreads your legs as wide as he deems best. His thighs rest under yours as Charles kneels down in front of you. “Such a pretty little pussy, Bambina.” He softly tells you, as though he’s your lover.

It seems that you’re looking at him, it truly does. But in reality, you’ve zoned out to a land far, far away from where there were no monsters like these men. Only princes and heroes like him. “Look at her, she looks so fucked out.” Steve comments, pointing at you. Charles hums, before snapping his fingers. Your trip is cut short, and you’re back to reality. Charles grabs the base of his cock and slaps the head of it on your sensitive clit, making you twitch.

Andy runs two of his fingers across your face; his pointer and his middle finger. He moves down to your slightly parted lips and pushes them inside. Charles smears his pre-cum against your wet lips, mixing the stickiness with your cum. You whimper at the feeling and focus on that only. “C’mon, suck on my fingers like it’s my cock, little girl.” Andy urges, pressing your tongue with his fingers.

You hesitatingly comply, trying to please him. The more you listen, the quicker it’ll all be over, right? “You’re just a good little slut, aren’t you? So good, the best little girl ever.” Charles praises, running the head of his cock through your folds. If this was all… okay, then you would agree with him and serve your duties as a good girl. But it isn’t okay, so you leave it at that. Charles pulls his now soaking wet cock away from your pussy, and you feel him push in.

But it isn’t him. It’s Andy’s cock. He slowly pushes into you, stretching you until it hurts like nothing before. He bottoms out with a loud moan that nearly makes your right ear hurt. He doesn’t begin to fuck you brutally, as any man would. No, he stays buried in your wet cunt and Charles seizes the moment. His wet cock head nudges against your other hole, the one that was forbidden to your boyfriend — ex-boyfriend.

You flinch and try to close your legs, but Andy stops you as quickly as possible. “Please…” You beg, using your eyes to tell him “No, I don’t want this. Please stop.” He shushes you and pushes the head of his cock in slightly. You’re gratefully he doesn’t just get on with it and brutalizes you. Andy pulls out of your wet cunt and you’re immensely confused.

To be honest, though, you always are.

Charles pushes into your cunt and fills you up like Andy. He immediately finds your sweet spot just like Bucky did. Andy grabs his cock and leads it to your tighter hole, before slowly pushing in. He groans loudly at how tight you are, how much you’re squeezing him like a vice. “No, stop it, please.” You beg, trying to get up from your spot on his chest.

He pulls you back down and Charles wraps his hand around your throat. “Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth before I get one of them to stuff it full with their cock.” He threatens. His face is calm in the most frightening way possible. Andy curses behind you as he finally bottoms out inside your ass. The pain makes you want to scream, but after your previous antics, you choose to just bite your lip and keep quiet.

Your short, red nails dig into your palms and draw blood, but it doesn’t hurt that badly. They both nod at each other but you don’t notice it at all, too focused on the excruciating pain you’re feeling. You might say that you’re about to pass out, but you can’t even form anything more than “please,” and moans of pain. Charles’s rough thumb rests upon your throbbing clit, ready to bring you to your orgasm.

But God, you’re squeezing his cock so tightly with your pussy it takes him a few moments to collect himself. “You’re squeezing our cocks so nicely, little baby. You just don’t wanna let us go.” Andy chuckles, wiggling his hips for some friction. You let out a loud moan — and you’re not sure if it’s of pain or pleasure.

Charles slowly drags his cock out of your cunt, leaving just the tip inside you. The feeling of sudden emptiness reminds you of when you stand up too quickly after laying down for a while. Mind-altering, if you must say. He slams back inside you and Andy does the opposite; pulling out of you. Charles fuck you slow, yet hard and rough. He rubs your clot quickly as he fucks you relentlessly.

Groans, whistles, curse words and moans all fill the room yet you only focus on the way their cocks are driving in and out of you. “Fuck, such a nice ass. You love having Daddy’s cock in your ass, don’t you?” Andy asks, looking straight down to where you’re connected. You swallow thickly and Charles feels it against his hand. He squeezes the sides of your throat slightly, and you nod quickly.

“Say it. Say you love having my cock fuck your little ass. I bet nobody ever fucked you like this, not even that lousy boyfriend of yours. You probably wished he took you like the little slut you are, destroying all your holes.” He demands as his dirty words make you wetter and wetter. “I…” You pant helplessly, looking around.

Everyone stares you down, their cocks in their hands as they slowly jerk off to you. “I l-love having your c-cock fuck my a-ass, Daddy.” You sheepishly tell him, whispering that last part. “Brava, Bambina.” Charles praises, punctuating his words with one thrust that hits your cervix. You let out a cry and the lewd sounds of them fucking you are drowned out for a brief second.

Charles continues to pummel your g-spot, and occasionally, your cervix. The pain isn’t as bad as the pain Andy is causing you. You can feel Andy’s cock pulsating in you, driving in and out of you. You’re sure you’re probably bleeding, but you know that none of these men care. “Fuck, she’s so stretched out…” Someone says, loud enough so you can hear.

You feel yourself being pushed to the edge at a rather fast pace. “You gonna come, baby? You gotta ask us first.” Charles snickers, slowing down his thrusts and taking away his thumb from your clit. You whine out like a bitch in heat, desperate to come all over their cocks. “Please…” You beg, gyrating your hips so that Charles can continue to fuck you like a starved man.

“Gotta do better than that, Tesoro Mio.” He hums, pulling out even more. He watches in awe as your wetness coats his cock like nothing before. In the bright lights, his cock glistens with your juices. “Please, please let me come! I need it, I want to come so badly, Sir!” You beg, bucking your hips upwards. “That’s a good little slut.” He praises, pushing back into your cunt. You moan loudly and wantonly once he bottoms out again.

The pain in your ass finally turns into pleasure and you moan even louder. “Oh my god!” You squeal despite your throat hurting. You grind down on their cocks slightly, chasing your orgasm. “Please let me come. Please, Sir… Please, Daddy!” You beg involuntarily, taking a page out of your wildest fantasies. Your words spur them on and you’re suddenly crashing into a lovely climax. You moan loudly and clamp down on their cocks as much as your body lets you.

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful when you come around our cocks. You love being fucked by two men, don’t you? Yeah, yeah you do. That’s why you’re being so needy and desperate.” Andy groans in your ear, feeling his balls tighten up as you milk him and Charles for all they’re worth. You nod in agreement, not even caring anymore,

You soak their cocks with your cum, and your eyes roll back into your skull. “Awe, look at her. She goin’ all stupid.” Lee teases, squeezing the base of his cock to stave off his release. Your heart clamours in your chest, beating wildly as you struggle to come down from your high. Your mind has a slight buzz to it, and the champagne is the one to blame. You can hear soft moans from the other men, and you fight back a shy smile of pride.

Charles and Andy both have beads of sweat dripping down their skin, enhancing your arousal. They both curse under their breaths and groan. Andy’s hips still first, and his cock twitches inside you. “Oh fuck…” He groans in a low voice. Streaks of cum paint your insides, filling you up in a pleasant way possible. You sigh at the feeling and look up at Charles. He squeezes your throat a bit tighter, which only makes you wetter.

His thrusts are slow and sloppy, signalling his orgasm. “Please come in me… Please, Sir.” You whisper to him, knowing he needs something to push him over the edge. “Fill me up with your cum, Sir.” You add, remembering certain lines from porn videos you used to watch. “Oh— fuck…” He groans as he comes inside you. You can feel his cum, filling you up to the brim and then some. Andy pulls out, his cock lightly brushing against Charles’s thigh.

You watch Charles as he slowly comes down from euphoria. You feel empty, so empty. Bucky watches with hungry eyes as cum and a tinge of blood leaks out of your asshole. It’s slightly stretched, which only turns him on even more. Charles drags his cock out of your pussy, slowly and carefully just so that he won’t hurt you.

Again, if the circumstances weren’t so… fucked up, you would’ve enjoyed this all.

You sigh and flop backwards onto Andy’s chest, ready for sleep to take you. You feel your eyes flutter shut, but then you’re jerked back to reality. Your eyes open up just for you to come face to face with Bucky, who smiles deviously at you. “I know you’re tired, baby, but we’re not done with you yet.” He cooes at you, rubbing your ass.

You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you hope it’s somewhere near the door.

“Hi, baby girl… You feelin’ good?” A raspy yet oh-so-familiar voice asks you. You rub your eyes as you’re set on someone’s lap. Ransom’s dark, lust-filled eyes lock with your tired ones. It takes you a good few moments to nod, and he chuckles. His hand comes up to your face, cupping your slightly sticky cheek. He caresses your face with his thumb, and you involuntarily lean into his touch.

Bucky pushes you farther into Ransom’s arms and he grabs your hurting hips. Cum leaks from both of your aching, stretched holes. Ransom’s hand leaves your cheek, but it quickly returns. But this time, it isn’t sweet and loving. No. Instead, he gives you a light slap on the cheek, just like Lee did. The coolness of his ring on your hot skin is… refreshing. It’s different.

Your ass is lifted into the air slightly, giving Bucky easy access to your stretched out rim. Bucky runs his hands up and down your ass, occasionally spanking you. The crack of his hand against your skin is just a reminder of your situation. You can feel Ransom’s cock resting right beneath your abused cunt, throbbing with want and need.

He grabs the base of his cock and lines the fat, leaking tip up to your cum-filled hole. Neither he nor Bucky needs any lube, all thanks to Andy and Charles. In one thrust, he fills you in a way that your fingers can’t. You can feel Bucky scoop up some of the cum leaking from your holes, along with your juices. Everywhere is tingling, a sensation unlike anything else.

He brings his fingers up to your mouth and Ransom squeezes your jaw until your mouth falls open, just like before. Bucky quickly pushes his fingers into your mouth. The taste of cum — salty, musky, and sweet — fills your mouth. It laps over your tongue and you involuntarily swallow it all. Whilst being distracted by Bucky’s fingers in your mouth, you don’t realize that he’s already pushing into your ass.

You gasp around his fingers as he quickly bottoms out inside you. Bucky’s too eager to take it slow. Bucky takes his now spit-slick fingers and wraps his arm around you, reaching down to your clit. You feel even more full than when Andy and Charles were in you. Maybe it’s the added cum, or maybe it’s the same and you’re just not used to being filled by two cocks.

Ransom moves his hand to your stomach and rubs the skin there — the bulging skin. The outline of his cock is faint, but it’s there. “Look at you, all filled up with our cocks.” Ransom whispers, before roughly grabbing your hips. He grinds you down onto his cock before lifting you slightly. Both he and Buckypull out slightly and start shallowly thrusting into you, almost in a teasing way.

You want more, you want more pleasure so badly. You want them to fuck you hard, for them to fuck you deeply and maybe even roughly. “You want something, don’t you, baby? So ungrateful…” Ransom disappointingly coaxes. You thrust back onto Bucky’s cock, a trick you learned from when you caught your ex-boyfriend balls-deep in your closest friend. Then, you grind down on Ransom’s cock.

Cum drips from both of your entrances and runs down the sides of their shafts and your inner thighs. “Fuck, if you wanted it that badly all you had to do was ask real sweetly.” Bucky groans, losing all sense and self-control. He pulls his cock out all the way, not even leaving the tip inside your ass. Ransom pulls halfway out and then bucks his hips up. He fucks back into you, but this time it’s more deep and punctuated.

“Oh— Thank you… Thank you, Sir!” You squeal as Ransom pounds against your g-spot over and over. His sticky, swollen, heavy balls slap against your empty ass. Bucky rubs your clit slowly, just to hear you whine like the desperate slut you are. “C’mon, make some noise for Daddy.” He demands in your ear, rubbing the tip of his cock on your other hole.

The feeling is lovely, but you crave more. “Please… Please fuck my ass, Daddy! I wan’ it so bad, wan’ you to put your big cock in me… Please, please…” You beg whilst you pant wildly. “примерная девочка.” He husks before pushing his hips forward. Despite having your… anal cherry being just popped, he acts as though you’re constantly begging to take it up the ass.

“Fuck, she doing that thing again,” Ransom comments, staring at your face. By ‘that thing,’ he means that way your mouth drops open in a silent scream and your eyes roll back into your skull. You clench around both Bucky’s and Ransom’s cocks, even though your muscles are barely working. You fall onto Ransom’s chest and you can hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, just like yours.

Unbeknownst to you, you just gave Bucky more leverage to fuck your ass. He takes his hand away from your clit and instead wraps it around your hair. He gives your hair a slight tug, and starts fucking you even harder. You dig your nails into Ransom’s chest at the stronger thrusts overpower your entire body and mind. You can hear a groan rumbling in his chest. “Fuck, best pussy I ever had.” He growls, finishing his sentence with one painful snap of his hips that goes straight to your cervix.

“Oh, can I come, please? I need it so— so badly, Daddy… Please, please let me come…” You beg, feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten up. The pressure increases and you’re not sure if you can hold out for a minute more. The lewd sounds, the feeling of their cocks driving in and out of you, and their moans all push you to the edge.

“Awe, well go ahead, little girl. You’ve earned it, come all over our cocks.”

“Yeah… Fuck— I don’t think ‘m gonna last any longer…” Bucky curses under his breath loud enough for you and Ransom to hear. Ransom nods, a bead of sweat running down his neck. Bucky’s metal hand comes up to your bra and he unhooks it. Ransom grabs the cheap fabric and throws it at one of his friends. Ransom gives a wink to Lee, who pockets your bra.

Your tits are sticky with dried champagne from before. Ransom has the urge to swirl his tongue around your hardened nubs until you’re coming around their cocks once again. But his basic needs are just more important than yours as of now. Bucky’s hips still first, his brutality against your ass finally coming to an end.

He swallows thickly — but he gets caught off by a loud, deep moan of his own. It’s right in your ear, and Bucky has you use your body as a brace to hold himself up. His balls tighten up and cum shoots inside your ass. You’re far more sensitive than the previous time and now you can feel every single drop painting your walls. Ransom follows, his load pumping into you in a relieving way. Your walls encompass them both, hugging them tightly.

Bucky fucks into you with a few more thrusts; shallow and quick. He prolongs his orgasm until his mind is fuzzy and his cock can’t take it. He pulls out, removing his hand from your hair and he sighs. His and Andy’s cum follows his cock along with a streak of light pink. He feels nice, prideful in a way that throughout all the pain, you only ever took pleasure.

Ransom keeps his cock locked inside of you, and he just knows that you’re on the verge of either crying, screaming, or passing out. He also knows that you’re smart, and won’t do anything other than remain docile for Sebastian and Chris. “C- Can I go now? I won’t tell anyone– I swear!” You plead to Ransom in an excited sort of whisper. Ransom clenches his jaw and stares down at you, and your lips turn down into a frown.

“You’re lucky we aren’t alone.” He tells you and his words are enough to shut you up. You whimper, but you don’t apologize. “You’ve been such a good girl…” Sebastian says from behind you. You turn around and look up at him. He smiles at you and it’s gentle, almost reassuring. But you don’t return it. Sebastian wraps his muscly arms around you and picks you up with ease.

Ransom’s cock slips from your folds with ease, and cum drips from your filled up pussy. White stickiness drips down your slightly sweaty thighs and it makes you feel so conscience-stricken. Unlike every other time — like when you were sucking off Lee and Steve, or getting fucked by Ransom and Bucky or Charles and Andy — you’re now standing up. It’s weird, a funny feeling that might take you a few seconds to get used to.

Chris comes up to you and he has a menacing stance. He cups your face with his soft yet slightly coarse hands. You flinch, scared that he’ll slap you the way Ransom did beforehand. Luckily, he doesn’t. “Aw, you’re scared, aren’t you?” Chris asks you, rubbing your top lip with his thumb. You hesitatingly nod. “Don’t be. The only thing you should be scared of is us destroying your holes… And by the looks of it, it seems like we already have.” He chuckles in a mocking manner.

You gulp thickly and try to ignore the newfound wetness that is pooling in your core. Along with it is a fire that doesn’t seem to be put out yet. Sebastian’s hands move from your waist to your back, and then to your hips. His movements are gentle and soft, almost as if his intentions hold no malice. But the truth is a complete contrast to what he’s trying to imply.

He spins you around in one swift movement and your world tilts on its axis for a brief moment. You grip his biceps as you try to get a hold of yourself. “Wanna see this pretty face while I fuck you into oblivion.” He mumbles under his breath, and you can feel Chris’s hands running all over your hurting ass. “And I wanna see this ass while I fuck it.” Chris chuckles in your ear once again.

He lands a spank onto your ass, watching the skin ripple in such a marvellous way he swears he’ll never see a girl as pretty as you. Sebastian lifts you up and on instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Sebastian’s cock right near your beaten up, cum-filled entrance. Then, you feel Chris’s tip at your other entrance.

They both thrust into you at once, and a loud squelching noise fills the room. “That cunt is so filled up…” Steve comments from the side, slowly jerking his cock off. You squeeze your eyes shut at his words, and try to block them out. Sebastian lets out a choked moan, whereas Chris groans lowly in your ear.

They both hold you up by your ass, and they start to thrust into you hard and fast. Your head lols back onto Chris’s shoulder and you can barely keep up with them. Sebastian’s hips buck up to your pussy and his cockhead slams into your cervix. “Ow…” You whine, before biting down on your lip. Your lipstick is smeared and your makeup is all ruined, but that seems to be the last thing on your mind.

You’re so fucking sensitive, it’s practically hilarious. Your little body has reached its limit... but maybe your body has no limit anymore. “Shh, just give up, babydoll. You’re doing so good, letting us use you.” Sebastian praises as he delivers a nice, harsh thrust. Chris ruts into you like no tomorrow, treating you like the fleshlight you are.

“Yeah– You love getting used. Bet your boyfriend couldn’t fuck you like this, couldn’t make you feel this good. He probably didn’t know how much of a slut you are.” Chris whispers in your ear whilst he grinds his cock into you. Both of their cocks are covered in cum, but they don’t mind. “These holes belong to us, right? All ours, ready to be used anytime.” Mr. Evans adds.

His slightly greying beard scratches your skin, right where Ransom was choking you. He places a few kisses on your bruising, hurting neck. Your hardened nipples rub against Sebastian’s sweaty chest, and your bulging abdomen touches his, too. “It’s… ‘S too much..” You complain in a dragged out, pathetic whine that turns into a moan. “Oh, it’s too much? Poor baby… Do you want us to slow down?” Chris asks, bringing his thrusts to a halt.

You nod before you start begging because you know they want the cherry on top. “Yes, please. Please, Sir, please slow down.” You ask them politely. You even flash your signature puppy dog eyes, hoping they haven’t gone out of style yet. They both coo at you, before smirking at each other. You shut your eyes and sigh, but your eyelids fly back open when you feel Sebastian and Chris starting to fuck you even harder.

“Too bad,” Sebastian grunts. “You’re going to take whatever the fuck we give you.” He sneers, and you can feel that pressure in your stomach beginning to increase. But it’s too much, more than you can handle. You shake your head and beg them to stop, but your pleas are silenced when Chris wraps his hand around your throat.

Every word that’s in your mouth dies down, and the only thing that comes from you are your moans and whimpers. “You’re gonna come, aren’t you? Just can’t help it, it feels too fucking good, doesn’t it? Do it, come all over our cocks right fucking now.” Sebastian growls as your moans become louder and your grip on their cocks grow tighter.

Your legs are shaking as you come undone. Your hands curl into fists and your eyes shut as they roll back. Your wet walls gush around their thick, long cocks and they continue to fuck you until you’re babbling like a dumb little baby. “Fuck…” Chris curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppy. It’s the same for Sebastian, and inside you’re elated.

Finally, finally, it’s all over.

They both pull out and you’re all but confused. They set you on the ground and you can barely stand without holding on to either Chris or Sebastian. Lee chuckles, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh, don’t be like that.” Ransom sasses from Lee’s left side. He’s right. These men just put you through hell, and that’s what you’re going to be embarrassed about?

Pathetic.

Sebastian pushes you to your knees and you fall with a muffled thud. Once again, the carpet digs into your knees but this time it isn’t as painful. You look up, and you’re suddenly surrounded by everyone. Mr. Stan, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Bodecker, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Evans, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Drysdale, and Mr. Barber… You’re not sure whether you should look at any of them in the eyes or not.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what to do. Should you run? Scream? Fight? Stay put? Millions of thoughts run through your mind but none of them seem to fully register. Everyone’s dominant hands are on their cocks, moving up and down at a rather fast pace. Chris and Sebastian fuck their hands even faster, eager to meet their climaxes.

Their moans and groans go straight to your wet pussy, fueling certain feelings you had been trying to push down all night. “Fuck, yes…” Chris moans coarsely. His balls tighten up and his red tip lets out spurts of cum. He paints your face and you nearly gag out of disgust. “You look even prettier with– with your face painted like that.” Lee groans, and he comes too. “Open up.” He orders in a creepy sing-song voice.

You listen to him obediently, and you haven’t noticed that the alcohol in your system has dissipated. His cum shoots straight into your mouth, his signature taste of muskiness and salt spreading across your tongue. After a few more seconds, Chris finally stops. He admires the way your face is covered in cum — his cum, to be exact. “C’mon, swallow it all like the good slut you are.” Sebastian urges, and his streaks of stickiness begin to shoot from his tip, too.

He paints your chest, almost like it’s a canvas. As much as you hate to admit it, this all turns you on even more. You can feel your wetness leaking from your cunt. Lee’s finger drags through the cum that’s on your face and he scoops some of it up. He pushes his finger into your mouth and shakes his head when he learns you haven’t swallowed his seed yet.

His frown is enough for you to listen. You swallow with difficulty, which comes from his digit. Your tongue laps up the cum on his finger and he smiles down at you. He pulls his finger out with a ‘pop’ and your legs are being spread again. You know for a fact you can’t take anything more, but you also know that they probably don’t care.

Ransom aims for your cunt, Steve too. They both come at the same time, loud moans escaping past their plump lips. More cum joins the gratuitous amount that’s already there. Once they stop moaning and they stop coming, you’re turned over onto your stomach. You already know that the carpet is probably a mess that dry cleaning might not accept.

Bucky and Charles cover your ass in ropes of their seed, and your messy chest presses into the ground. There’s more cum on you and in you than there is dignity. “Fuck, I wish my phone wasn’t dead. I would’ve taken so many lovely pictures of our masterpiece here.” Bucky groans, and he continues to give his cock a few more strokes just to lengthen his orgasm.

Andy is the last, only because he has patience for things like this. He paints your back like he’s Monet, or maybe even Da Vinci. Sebastian kneels down in front of you and picks your head up from off the ground. His thumb smears the cum on your face into your skin, and you don’t even have the energy to ask them if it’s all over. He chuckles, before standing back up again.

“Looks like you really were a good girl this year.”

[rcksmith]

Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.