#let’s call room service!
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superbeans89 · 1 year ago
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s0fter-sin · 18 days ago
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trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband
(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)
he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy
soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's
he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him
he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it
soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan
he takes his baby and runs
he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives
he doesn't know where he's going beyond away
he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him
soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once
he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy
he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself
even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-
soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries
he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-
he can't save him
a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands
but it's not his husband outside the window
soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window
soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding
the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks
"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him
he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."
soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard
the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"
soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips
"not long enough."
the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway
"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”
soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby
“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."
soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers
he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"
soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope
"i think we can work something out."
🧼💀
ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it
he knows someone running when he sees it
if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen
but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no
he covered his baby
like he was afraid he'd be hurt
that's enough for ghost
🧼💀
i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted
he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it
he never had a chance of getting away
but ghost is ex-military
he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know
he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station
#what up i had a nightmare about an eldritch horror trying to steal my baby and john mcclane from die hard shooting it to protect me#i woke up freaked out and decided to torment soap with it to feel better#thats literally the only reason this exists#that and the thought of soaps super hairy chest but thats besides the point#anyway#i was going to have ghost be a drifter after retiring but i like the idea of him being the unlikely safe person living out in the woods#ghost moves soap into the little one bedroom cabin he built behind the station#its hidden by the trees and kept warm by a fire. he gives soap and the baby the bedroom and sleeps out in the living room#he keeps watch out the window for whoevers after soap#he doesnt find out who it is for a while; soaps been burned and reluctant to trust anyone#but they gradually heal each other; ghost gives soap someone to trust and soap helps ghost heal his truma by giving him someone he can save#soap starts to work in the service station despite ghost telling him he doesnt need to but he wants his independence back#he finds he likes working and ghost cant take that from him when hes so obviously happy cleaning and shelving stock#soaps husband comes looking for him but ghost still has his contacts and calls a whole militia down on his head#each one of them with favours in the government if not outright political immunity; money means nothing in the face of them#they just threaten him; lets him know soap is protected now#at least; thats what ghost tells soap 😉#coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt#we’re a team. ghost team#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghoap#john soap mactavish#soap cod#simon ghost riley#ghost cod
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ineffablefool · 2 years ago
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This connection is supposed to be symmetrical.
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ghostickle · 4 months ago
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I think this place is genuinely the worst work environment of any place I’ve ever worked and assuming I pass the drug test tomorrow I start the new job on the 1st anyways and I think after today I’m just not going back never saying anything to them I’m so fucking done
#we literally aren’t allowed WATER unless on break and in the break room#which mind you we only get an unpaid 15 minute break which walking time taken out is really maybe 10 mins and that’s it#everyone that works there particularly managers are unbelievably demeaning and rude and don’t even do their jobs#to the point I didn’t have an actual nametag till this week when I’ve been there since April#but even beyond that#the worst customers of any job I’ve ever had#the most dog shit fucking people and I’ve only worked customer service I’ve dealt with shitty people#but I get called slurs regularly#people being fucking violent to the point there is always a cop car outside the store#I’ve worked for ableist or transphobic places before as fucked as it is I’m used to that#but they genuinely should not be in business it is disguting the way they treat employees#and most employees also don’t do their jobs either the curtesy clerks always need to be hunted down#cause they’ll sit where there’s no cameras for literal hours to avoid doing their job#but after all this bullshit especially after today#I am not going back to that shit hole and they get no warning either#I’m just not showing up anymore and they can deal with the consequences of treating others less than human#ghost rambles#also I was hired full time like a lot of others#but you’re lucky to get 35 hours more likely to get 30 and never get overtime#because you need 40 hour weeks 8 weeks straight to be considered full time and given benefits#so they do everything they can to not let anyone get benefits#there are people who have been there literal years and never once gotten 40 hours#you can’t even pick up shifts from others if you try to they won’t let you#they don’t even hide why#they will say if you’re ’too close’ to 40 hours you aren’t allowed more
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littlelamy · 2 months ago
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boat scene with rafe
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requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘 part 2
credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs
The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.
“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”
Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”
You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”
He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”
You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.
Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.
You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.
You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”
Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.
“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.
For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.
“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.
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The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.
“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.
You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.
You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.
Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”
Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”
But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.
When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.
“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.
His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.
Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.
“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.
You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.
“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.
The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.
“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.
You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.
Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.
You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.
You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.
He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.
Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.
“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.
Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln
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punkshort · 29 days ago
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The Farmer's Daughter
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader one-shot
Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.
Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), heavy talks of prostitution, mentions of SA but none occur, reader is a (new) prostitute, virginity loss (no blood mentioned just some discomfort), descriptions of battle wounds/blood, food and alcohol consumption, one bed trope, enemies to lovers-ish, unprotected piv sex, thigh riding, angst, possessiveness
WC: 10.2K
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
A/N: I know by this point his character is mostly referred to as Acacius in the film but I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around someone moaning that name in bed. So let's just ignore that, okay?
How did this happen? Why did fate play you such a cruel and twisted hand?
When you were younger, you expected to be married off to be a housewife to a solider. From what you heard growing up, it wasn't a terrible life. The men were gone most of the time which allowed the women to run the household and raise children in peace. Unfortunately, your mother died during childbirth and your father, a humble farmer, passed away too early in life, leaving you and his few workers to keep the farm operating for as long as possible. To make money, you spent much of your time at the market, selling the food you made on the farm and the goods you weaved and molded from the scraps.
It wasn't enough. You lost the farm after a handful of years and you were on the brink of becoming destitute. Already you were malnourished and dehydrated, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't find work.
That was how you found yourself in a long line of women, standing silently with your heads bowed and your hands clasped as you were all throughly inspected by a senior officer of the Roman army. They were choosing their group of whores to hire to accompany the men on their next battle across the sea. You were left with no other option but to sell your only remaining asset. The thought turned your stomach, but the idea of starving to death was worse.
One by one, women were hand picked to step forward and exit the room. All in all it had to have been close to forty whores hired to service an entire army.
The odds were not in your favor if you were picked.
It came as a relief when you ended up not getting chosen. You breathed a deep sigh and lifted your chin, scanning the room of remaining women and senior ranking soldiers. You would make do somehow. At least you wouldn't be spreading your legs multiple times a night for different men after they've spent the day fighting and working up their appetite.
You turned to follow the women back out onto the streets of Rome, no doubt searching for another way to sell their bodies, when you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name. You froze in disbelief, wondering who could possibly know you, and then you slowly turned.
It was General Acacius. The fearless leader of the Roman army, but you knew him from your stand in the market. Whenever he was home from battle, he always found you and purchased more than he could possibly need, feeding you and your farmhands for weeks. He never said much and neither did you, but you had grown fond of seeing his greying curls and dark, smoldering eyes approach your stall, albeit with a new wound or scar to show for his travels.
You did not even realize he knew your name.
His eyes drifted up and down your worn tunic, noticing the stains and rips and your poor fitting sandals. Your gaze flickered nervously around the room at the other men impatiently looking to wrap up their work and begin their long journey, but remained silent, deferring to the general.
"You will come with us," was all he said, his voice booming in the small room. Your blood ran cold and panic seized your throat.
"But the choices have already been made-"
"I am paying. I believe I am allowed to decide how many whores we bring along."
You clamped your mouth shut, brows furrowing in anger. How foolish you were to assume he was a man of honor, a man who wanted to help you when he bought your meager wares in the market. As it turned out, he was no better than any other, only out to seek pleasure between your legs.
At that point, you knew better than to argue. Your fate was sealed. Begrudgingly, you forced yourself to follow after the other chosen women, walking past the high ranking officials who sized you up as you went.
The army was to travel by ship. Or multiple ships, to be exact. The women were counted off and told to stand in smaller groups, one handful of whores for each ship of hungry soldiers. When your group was assigned, you heard that familiar powerful voice come out of nowhere once again, stopping everybody in their paths.
"She is to travel on mine," General Acacius announced. A few men exchanged confused glances and Acacius grew irritated. "That one," he clarified, pointing directly at you. The other men quickly nodded and shuffled you into another group, and you thought that would be the end of it, but then he spoke again as the others began to board.
"She will stay in my chambers."
If the soldiers were surprised, they hid it well, but you didn't. You whipped around and glared at him defiantly, a litany of disrespectful curses on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, you remembered your place and who you were speaking to and caught yourself before you got killed, but as you turned to board the ship, you noticed an amused smirk play across the general's lips.
A young solider shoved you into the general's quarters, ordering you to not go through his things or they would cut off your hands, then slammed the door shut, leaving you all alone. The rest of the women had gone below deck, most likely to a shared room that was filthy and freezing cold. You, on the other hand, had a beautiful soft bed and a roaring fire to warm yourself by a small wooden dining table. There was a bookshelf tucked into the corner and your fingers itched to pull the books out and examine them, but you didn't dare. Instead, you sat on the small cushioned bench next to the only porthole in the room, tucking your knees against your chest protectively while you waited for the inevitable.
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Sleep took hold of you at some point while you waited for the general to retire. The last thing you remembered was the open sea and the glorious golden sun beginning to dip just below the horizon. When you awoke, it was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and unfurled yourself from your bench to look around, then nearly yelped when you found the general quietly sitting at the table pouring himself wine.
Your heart raced violently in your chest, knowing full well what he expected of you. And despite offering yourself up earlier that day as a whore, you had decided you would not do it for this man. Because this man came to your booth in the market under the guise of kindness that turned out to be a lie, and it simply did not sit right with you.
"I will not lie with you willingly," you announced boldly with your arms crossed. The general quirked an eyebrow and took a long sip of his wine.
"When was the last time you have eaten?"
You scowled, body vibrating with energy and ready for a fight only to be met with indifference.
"I am not hungry."
"You will eat or you will die," he said, avoiding your eye and standing to collect a plate of food by the door. He dropped it onto the table and pointed angrily at it. "Eat."
"Why?"
"You need your strength, you are frail."
"You do not like your whores thin, then?" you shot back. Acacius clenched his jaw, eyes still cast down. "You wish to fatten me up so you have something to hold onto when you force my legs apart?"
"That is enough!" he roared, fiery eyes finally finding yours and pinning you with an intense stare that had you trembling. "I will not be forcing you to do anything except eat. Now sit down, do not test my patience."
It was a combination of fear and hunger that made you obey, sinking down into the chair opposite his where the plate of lukewarm food awaited you. Acacius sat down and picked up his goblet, watching you from over the rim as you slowly began to pick at the food. You both remained silent while you ate and he drank, the only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire and the distant laughter and yells from his men in the galley below.
He was right. You hadn't eaten in days. It was no wonder you fell asleep so quickly earlier. You wanted to express your thanks, but you were too stubborn. Instead, you finished your food and put the plate in the basin of water by the door before looking around the room once again. It was easily the nicest room on the ship. You had to imagine most of the soldiers would be sleeping in hammocks stacked on top of one another down below, but the general had the biggest, softest looking bed you had ever seen in your life.
But there was only one.
He watched you from his place at the table, studying your face as you worked out the mechanics.
"I will not force myself upon you if we share the bed," he said, dragging your attention back to him. He was still in his armor, all shiny and clean from the public celebration that took place prior to the army's departure.
"Why am I here, if not to pleasure you?" you asked. You sounded calmer than before but you were still very much on edge.
"You believe I would find pleasure in forcing myself upon a woman?" he questioned before draining his cup. You thought about it for a moment and shrugged.
"Perhaps. Yes."
He stared down at his empty chalice, your heinous opinion of him rolling around in his head and making his chest ache.
"Well, I do not," he proclaimed, standing up quickly and causing his chair to almost topple backwards. He began to unhook his heavy armor, dropping it into a pile on the floor until he was down to his tunic.
"If we were to lie together, it would be because you wish it so," he said softly with his back to you. You swallowed thickly.
"What am I to do here, then?" you asked as he began to turn down his sheets. He slid his tired body into bed and sighed.
"Whatever you like. So long as you stay in this room, you will remain unharmed."
You blinked rapidly, desperately trying to put the pieces together.
"That is all?"
"Yes. That is all. My only wish is you are safe and fed."
You couldn't help it. You had to ask.
"But... why?"
But the general rolled onto his side, effectively ending your conversation and leaving you wondering what you had gotten yourself into.
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That first night, you did not share his bed. You slept on the bench by your porthole, curled up small, arms wrapped around yourself protectively until the sun rose. When you awoke, the general was gone, but a plate of food was left on the table for you.
The first week on the ship went exactly the same. You stayed in his chambers, staring out at the sea or sleeping until he returned way past dark with some food for you and a tired look in his eye. And every night, you slept on the bench, still far too distrusting of him.
The second week, the general brought a game with him at dinner time. Two cups and two wooden dice. The idea was you had to guess what you would roll. If you won, you got whatever you bet on the round. It wasn't that entertaining at first since you had only the clothes on your back and nothing else, but what you did have were stories or songs or a slight of hand trick your father taught you when you were young.
You wouldn't realize until much later that it was his way of getting to know you better.
"You released all the cows from the pasture?" Acacius repeated in disbelief. You giggled and nodded.
"I was only six years old! I thought they were being held against their will!"
Acacius laughed, the sound making you grin like a fool and your cheeks warm.
"Alright," he said once he got ahold of himself. "Go on."
You picked up the die and tossed them into a cup, giving it a firm shake and smiling when he shot you a playful wink.
You clapped the cup firmly over the table and before you raised it up, you announced, "One three and one five."
"What is your wager?"
You nodded towards his bookshelf. "One of your books."
He looked up at you in shock. "You can read?"
You gave him a fake look of disgust and nodded. "Of course I can read."
"And you have been here this whole time without picking up a book?"
"Your men told me they would cut off my hands if I touched what is yours."
His face softened and he sat back in his chair.
"No one will touch you," he told you firmly. You stared at one another, the heavy moment weighing between you, the implication of his words impossible to deny. No one will touch you because you are his.
To break the tension, you smirked and said, "So I suppose that means I do not need to wager the books?"
Acacius grinned and shook his head. "Too late, little one."
You rolled your eyes and lifted the cup, pouting when you saw two six's.
"Your turn," you said, pushing the cup to the side.
Acacius collected the dice and dumped them into the cup, shaking it while looking at you curiously from across the table and admiring the way the light from the fire flickered over your beautiful face.
"You can still take a book."
You perked up but shook your head. "That is against the rules of the game, General."
"I make the rules. Take a book tomorrow," he insisted before slamming the cup down. His large hand gripped the top of the cup, keeping it pressed tightly against the table.
"Your wager?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.
He swallowed, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say. The fear that you would pull away from him again fought against the insatiable attraction he had harbored for you for years. But the wine must have won the fight because he said, "One kiss."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment, he thought he made a horrible mistake. But then you squared your jaw and narrowed your eyes and said, "Go ahead."
He grinned, pulse thrumming excitedly in his throat when he said, "One one and one four."
But when he lifted the cup, his face fell. A three and a six.
"Ah, well," he said, shoulders drooping. He yawned and stood to collect the dice. "Better luck tomorrow."
Before you could stop yourself, you stood as well and leaned up to peck a chaste kiss against his scruffy cheek. He looked at you in surprise and you gave him a crooked grin.
"For the book."
He smiled and nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment as you got yourself ready for bed. You had a small pillow and thin blanket to curl up with by the porthole, and it irked him that you wouldn't take more. He feared you would catch a sickness and your malnourished body wouldn't be able to fight off an infection, but you were so stubborn that he couldn't convince you otherwise.
However, the third and final week at sea had you shivering on your bench. Acacius could hardly sleep knowing how cold you were. He could hear your teeth chattering from across the room.
"I beg of you, please sleep in my bed," he said one night as you began to make your little nest by the porthole. You shook your head.
"I am fine, I swear it."
"You are not fine. Please, I will not touch you, you have my word."
You chewed on your lower lip and looked over his shoulder at his warm, plush bed. He could see your resolve begin to falter, so he offered to sleep on the bench in your place.
"No, do not be ridiculous. You have an army to lead tomorrow, you cannot be tense as a knot because you slept on a too small bench."
"I will if it means you are safe and warm," he said softly, his vulnerability taking you off guard.
"General-" you sighed, but he cut you off.
"Please. I promise I will remain on my side of the bed. Just stop being so stubborn for once in your life."
You scoffed and propped your hands on your hips. "For once in my life? And what would you know of it?"
He squinted at you and crossed his arms. "I know more than you think. I know you would not quit until you broke in that filly when you were twelve years old. I know you nearly pushed a boy down a well when he tried to kiss you in front of the whole school. I know you argued with your teacher over the correct spelling of amaranth and I know you poured every last bit of yourself into a dying farm just to keep the memory of your father alive."
Your jaw hung open in surprise, taken aback by the way he stored all of the little snippets of your life you had given him over the past two weeks only to end it with his own observation of you at the market.
You could feel yourself growing weak for him, the temptation to give in too much to bear. He had been slowly wearing you down since you arrived and perhaps he was right, perhaps you were far too stubborn because the last thing you wanted to do was go back on the proclamation you made that very first night.
So, you chose to be defiant.
"Fine," you snapped, swiveling on your heel and stomping towards his bed. "If you wish to share your bed with a whore so badly, then so be it."
Acacius rounded the bed and slipped in beside you, making sure to leave plenty of space.
"You and I both know you are no whore."
"Oh, you know so very much about me, I forget."
You tugged the heavy blankets up to your chin and tried not to audibly sigh at how comfortable it was in his bed.
"If you are a whore, tell me then: how many men have you laid with?"
You clenched your jaw, angry that he was able to figure you out so easily. Instead of answering, you rolled onto your side, your back to him, and muttered, "good night."
Acacius grinned and closed his eyes, proud of himself for besting you.
"Good night."
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The following morning, you awoke earlier than usual. When your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your bones was gone. The large, soft bed had been enough to cure you in just one night.
Not something you planned on admitting to the general, of course.
The second thing you noticed when you sat up in bed was that the ship was not moving. It was completely still, and you could hear loud, quick footsteps outside your door and above your head. Men were shouting to one another and the clink of swords and armor were echoing throughout the halls. Then, through the walls somewhere above you, you heard the general's deep, booming voice yelling orders to his men. You threw off the blankets and hurried to the porthole, your eyes widening when you saw land and small boats being lowered into the water.
You had arrived at whatever distant land the emperors demanded Acacius claim for Rome, and the soldiers were getting ready to depart for their first fight.
You chewed nervously on your nail, curled up against the wall and peering out the window for hours until the very last boat sailed away. In the distance, you could see the general's broad back covered in armor, his dark curls fluttering in the sea breeze and his massive sword tucked dutifully at his waist.
He had left for war and didn't even say goodbye.
Why would you care if he said goodbye? Maybe if they all die, you could escape to shore and be free, find a new city and make a home for yourself.
Even you had to admit that fantasy was foolish. No matter where you went, your fate would always be the same. You had no money, no prospects, no skills and no family. Your destiny was already written and it was a miracle your first attempt at prostitution landed you in the cushy quarters of Rome's surprisingly respectful general.
Your nerves kept your feet moving all day. You tidied up the general's desk, sorting his papers and maps. You scrubbed at the dishware until they sparkled and you made the bed, fluffing up the pillows and tucking in the loose edges until you had nothing left to do. The room was as neat as possible, not a single item out of place, and yet you still floundered around looking for something to occupy your busy mind.
When the sun began to dip and his room grew darker, you went around lighting candles to allow for more light. You were in the middle of lighting the last candle when you heard a timid knock at the door.
Nobody had ever come to his chambers the entire three weeks besides the general himself. You swallowed anxiously, wondering who it could be and if you should answer when you heard a woman's small voice from the other side of the door.
You decided it was safe and opened the door a crack to find one of the whores you had boarded the ship with waiting on the other side with buckets of water and a basin.
"For the general," she said softly. You nodded and dragged the buckets into the room, trying not to stare at the bruises and dirt littering her dry skin. Your stomach twisted with guilt after she left and you locked the door. The other women were living like cattle and you were living the life of luxury. Not only was the general not forcing you to fuck him, but you were giving him sass at every turn.
It was a harsh reminder of your fortune, of what your life could be like. The thought of living the life of the women below deck frightened you, so you had decided that evening when the general returned, you would give yourself to him to show your appreciation, as well as out of fear he would soon get rid of you if you didn't give him what he wanted.
You remained at your post, staring out at the dark sea until you could see the bobbing of lanterns making their way across the black expanse, letting you know the men were returning for the night. You rushed to warm up his water over the fire, dumping it into the large basin. You poured some scented oils into the bath just as the door unlocked and opened, revealing a very filthy and exhausted looking general holding two plates of food.
"Good evening," you said, standing obediently. Acacius paused at the door, confused by your formality before closing it with his heel and setting down the food at the table. "I have a warm bath ready for you, General," you added, pointing towards the basin. He nodded tiredly and began to work on the hooks of his armor. You rushed forward to help him, once again taking him by surprise until he was stripped down to his red tunic.
"Would you like to eat or bathe first?" you asked. The general sighed and looked longingly at the bath.
"I will clean myself while you eat," he said. He pointed towards the table and motioned for you to turn around.
"May I assist you instead, General?" you asked with your back turned. You could hear the shuffle of fabric falling to the wooden floor and then a sharp hiss when he sunk down into the warm water.
"Assist me with what? Cleansing myself? I believe I can manage," he chuckled. You turned around to stare at the back of his head, his body now submerged in the water and hidden from view, but you could still see his shoulders and arms. They looked bruised and bloodied.
He didn't notice your eyes on him, of course. He was busy scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin while he looked around the tidy room.
"It is very nice in here, you did not have to straighten up."
It was the least you could do and you knew it but said nothing.
Instead, you shakily lifted your worn tunic over your head and let it crumple to the floor. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you slowly approached him, the general completely unaware as he continued to scrub his skin.
"I can think of another way to assist you," you said nervously as you stepped into his eyeline. His chin tilted up and he did a double take when he saw your naked form standing before him. His cloth dropped into the water and his jaw fell open in surprise, eyes wide and greedily raking over your body.
"Wh- what is this?" he stammered, gaze glued to your chest. Your fingers fidgeted at your sides under his scrutiny.
"I thought I would show you my appreciation for your hospitality," you explained. "I would like to repay you in some way for choosing me to share your quarters."
A small smile tugged at his lips as he eagerly reached forward, then stopped when he registered your words. He looked up at you questioningly, excitement falling from his face when he asked, "What do you mean, repay me?"
You shrugged and took a hesitant step forward, close enough now so he could reach out and touch your cunt if he chose.
"I realized today my fate could have been much harsher," you explained. "I have not been showing you my appreciation and respect, and in return, I wish to give you my body to use as you see fit."
Acacius frowned and turned his head away, searching for the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.
"I do not want your body as payment, I believe I told you that weeks ago."
"You said we would not lie together unless I wished it so," you protested. "I now wish it."
"You wish to lay with me out of obligation, not desire. That is not something I want."
Embarrassment and confusion flooded your mind as you slowly stretched your arms across your exposed body, trying to hide yourself out of shame.
"I apologize-"
"Get yourself decent and eat," he commanded without looking up. His voice sounded hard and cold and for some reason, it made you want to cry. You did as you were told, dragging your dirty tunic over your head and sat quietly at his table to pick at your food. You were confused and ashamed, sitting in the tense room with him while you tried to work out what he wanted from you. The idea of wanting a man out of desire never occurred to you. You had grown up under the impression women of your station did not get to experience the luxury of desire, and instead came to terms early on in life that you always had one asset to use at your disposal.
Not one time did you ever imagine being with a man out of affection or love.
"I apologize," you tried again after he had dried off and joined you. He had changed into a clean, white tunic and was clenching a similar one in his fist.
"You may use this," he said, ignoring your apology yet again. He thrusted the tunic towards you and you fumbled when you took it from his grasp. "The one you are wearing looks as if it might fall apart the moment you step outside and feel the sea breeze."
"Thank you," you murmured, fingertips brushing over the soft and expensive material in your lap.
"I will also call for more water tomorrow so you may wash yourself," he said before biting into a chunk of bread.
Your cheeks went hot with shame, still feeling guilt over the mercy and generosity he had shown you.
"I do not know what it is to desire someone," you said after a few quiet moments. Acacius continued to chew and kept his focus fixed on his plate. "I never imagined it would be a part of my life. May I remind you we come from different worlds."
He grunted in response but you noticed his shoulders begin to relax.
"I understand. But you must stop treating yourself as a whore. You are so much more than that, I have seen it with my own eyes. And to watch you debase yourself, to think so lowly of yourself, breaks my heart."
Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears begin to well up, quickly threatening to spill down your cheeks. How could you have been so wrong? How could you not see the man for who he really was? He was a man who was gentle, kindhearted, protective and most importantly, cared very deeply for you. To what extent, you were unsure, but if he wanted you to desire him and he saved you from being used by countless other men, he certainly must have harbored stronger feelings than you ever thought possible.
"Alright."
His dark eyes flicked up to yours when you spoke.
"I will not debase myself," you said flatly. The corner of his mouth twitched before he looked back down at his food.
"Very well. I am pleased that has been sorted," he replied before shoving his plate off to the side and standing to collect the cups and dice. "Shall we play a few rounds before bed?"
You grinned and nodded, gathering up your plates and dumping them in the water by the door to clean later before joining him back at the table. And somehow, the awkwardness from the evening faded away after a few rolls of the dice.
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It had been two weeks docked off shore on some foreign land. You hadn't left his room in over a month and you were beginning to feel insane. You told him as much early one morning when he was dressing for battle. It was still dark outside. Acacius had mentioned he wanted to arrive on shore before dawn so that he might get into position under the cover of night.
"When I return tonight, I will take you up on the deck for some fresh air," he promised as he cinched up his armor. "Do not leave this room when I am not here."
"Why not? Are your men not with you during the daytime?" you asked from his bed.
"It is not my men I worry about," he explained, sheathing his sword after lacing up his sandals.
"Then what do you worry for?"
"I worry about everything," he confessed. His hand was on the doorknob poised to leave, but he stopped to turn to you one last time. "I do not trust the soldiers from this city not to try to climb aboard the ships whilst we are gone. It is important the ships appear empty."
You nodded in understanding before burrowing back in his sheets and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you looking comfortable and radiant in his bed.
"Behave, my dove, and we may dine on the deck tonight," he said, making you smile wide. He slipped quietly out of his room and locked the door behind him, fearful if he lingered any longer, he may not leave the ship the whole day.
You spent the afternoon reading and bathing and cleaning the general's dirty clothes in the extra water he had brought up after he left. You weren't sure how it happened, but the two of you had fallen into a life of domesticity amidst war without even sharing so much as a kiss.
What surprised you the most was you enjoyed it. You enjoyed tending to his things and cleaning what you could during the day, and then caring for him at night when he returned all bloodied and tired.
It had not once crossed your mind that he may not return until it happened.
That night, you saw the lanterns bobbing over the water, your signal to begin heating up his water for a bath. Your hair smelled like the expensive oils you poured into his water from your own bath earlier. You smiled to yourself when you thought of smelling like him, and him of you.
Heavy footsteps landed on the wooden floorboards above your head and outside your door. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Acacius usually didn't come to his room right away. He typically visited the wounded soldiers in the infirmary, making sure they were well tended to and fed before doing his rounds, assigning a night crew, and then finally gathering food for you both before retiring for the evening.
But more time passed than usual. You could tell because your stomach began to rumble and his water grew lukewarm. You paced around the room, ears straining to hear the voices from the other soldiers, trying to discern anything from their muffled conversations.
It wasn't until two hours went by that you heard a sharp rap at the door and a man's voice echoing on the other side, announcing he brought you food.
Your blood went cold and you wondered if you should open the door, but then you remembered Acacius told you he wasn't worried about his own men, the underlying message being that his soldiers would never touch what was his. So after a moment's hesitation, you swung open the door.
"Here," a young man said, shoving one plate of food towards you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt and you frowned before taking the food and thanking him softly.
"Where is the general?" you asked timidly.
"He fell in battle," he grumbled before turning away. Your heart plummeted as you reached out and grabbed his shoulder, taking him by surprise.
"What do you mean?" you exclaimed. Fear and adrenaline mixed with something foreign coursed through your veins as you felt your lower lip tremble. The solider shook you off with disgust before stepping back.
"He was struck down. Last I saw of him he was lying still on the battlefield."
When he saw the look of despair on your face, he took pity on you.
"Others were assisting him, his body will return to Rome," he assured you before giving you a firm nod and disappearing down the long hall, leaving you to collapse into a fit of sobs behind the locked door.
The feeling you had in your chest was similar to the way you felt when your father passed, but something was different. It felt like a piece of you went dark, like you may never smile or laugh ever again. Grief consumed every fiber of your being and you found yourself crawling into his bed, face streaked with tears so thick you could hardly see your hands reach for his pillow. You pulled it tightly against your chest and you curled up around it, muffling your wails until your head began to pound and your body felt weak.
You drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning until the room grew cold and the fire dissolved into embers. You stood and wrapped a blanket around yourself, sniffling and shuffling over to the fire to stoke the flames wearing the general's spare tunic he had gifted you. After a few minutes, the fire roared back to life and you sat back with a heavy sigh.
Just as you were wondering what you would do come morning and how you would ever be able to move on without him, you heard footsteps approaching. You whipped around in fear and tightened your grip on the blanket. With the general no longer around to protect you, you had assumed the other men would eventually come looking for you, but you had to admit you didn't expect it so fast.
You curled yourself into a ball on your old bench, staring at the doorknob, expecting to see it jiggle and eventually forced open from the other side, but to your surprise the lock clicked quietly and the door slowly creaked open.
When you saw the general appear, limping and bloodied but still alive, you practically screamed. You jumped to your feet and rushed over, moments away from throwing yourself into his arms before you caught yourself.
"Acacius," you whispered in disbelief, the informality slipping easily past your lips for the very first time. He gave you a tired smile and locked the door behind him.
"I apologize for missing dinner," he said. You laughed as two fresh tears trickled down your cheeks. Your hands hovered nervously over his armor as if you weren't sure where you could touch him.
"Apology accepted," you replied before gingerly unhooking the armor around his shoulders. He groaned with relief when you lifted the heavy metal off him and set it against the wall by the door to polish another time. When you turned back around, you gasped at the blood that had seeped through his tunic, staining the yellow fabric a dark red.
"You are hurt," you whimpered, then hurried around his room for clean cloths, healing oils, and salves he kept in his desk. "Take that off and sit down. Allow me to tend to your wound."
He wordlessly lifted the ruined tunic over his head, wincing slightly when the wound at his side pulled, and he sat down at the table just as you instructed. You collected some of the unused water from his bath and set it over the flames to warm up before scooping up some more and setting it on the table next to him.
"They stemmed the bleeding on the boat," he explained. "It just needs to be cleaned and perhaps -"
"I will handle this. You just rest and eat," you told him, pushing your plate of uneaten food in his direction. His eyes fell onto the food and he frowned.
"It is untouched," he said, "why did you not eat?"
"How could I when I thought you were dead?" you snapped as you brought a soaked rag to his side and began to gently pat at the nasty looking gash.
Acacius took a bite of food, the flavors melting onto his tongue and making him groan. He didn't realize how hungry he was and before he knew it, he had eaten all of the food except for the grapes. You were leaning across his lap, bandaging up his wound with intense focus. He sighed contentedly, basking in the warmth from the fire and the soft touch of your hand on his skin. He could already feel his strength beginning to return.
"That should hold," you said, sitting upright to inspect your work. He glanced down and raised his eyebrows at the neat little bandage you had adhered to his wound.
"You did a very good job. Where did you learn such things?"
You shrugged and began to clean up the salves and oils. "On a farm, many accidents happen. You learn quickly how to tend to a wound."
He smiled and sipped from the wine you had poured for him while watching you move around the room, disposing of his soiled clothes and rags and then bringing the bucket of warm water over to the table with a fresh cloth.
When you pulled the other chair closer and sat, fitting your legs between his knees so you could reach him, he began to protest.
"You do not need to -"
"I want to," you said, cutting him off with a warm, wet cloth on his aching shoulders. His eyelids fluttered with a groan, leaning back into his chair and giving in. It felt so wonderful to be washed by your hand, to have you so close and safe while tenderly caring for him. It was all he had been dreaming about for years, ever since the first day he saw you at the market.
"So many scars," you whispered, swiping the cloth down his broad, strong chest. His breathing stuttered when you reached his stomach and he tensed.
"I have been in many battles," he murmured with his eyes still closed. You hummed to yourself and continued to work, diligently and carefully scrubbing away the layers of blood and grime until you cleaned everything you could see.
"Can you lean forward, General?" you asked, "I would like to cleanse your back."
He nodded and with a grunt, sat upright so he could lean forward. You stood from your chair and positioned yourself behind him, taking great care with every swipe of your cloth, afraid of unearthing a new wound under all the filth.
"Back to general now, are we?" he asked.
Your hand paused on his shoulder blade. He sensed your confusion and he chuckled.
"When I first arrived, you called me Acacius," he explained.
"Oh," you breathed before continuing your work. "That was disrespectful, I -"
"No, I quite liked it," he said before you could finish apologizing. "You may call me Marcus when we are alone, if you prefer."
Your eyes widened and although he couldn't see you, he could tell you were surprised.
"That would be highly irregular," you finally said softly, putting down the wet cloth and picking up a bottle of perfumed oil. You sprinkled a few drops into your palm and you rubbed your hands together. "That name should only be used by those closest to you."
He opened his mouth to respond but when your slick hands found his shoulders and your fingers began to dig into the knots in his muscles, he moaned and felt himself go lax.
"Oh gods, that feels incredible," he rasped. The deep timber of his voice sent a wave of arousal right to your core. You continued to work on his back and shoulders, privately marveling at his broad frame and firm muscles under his scarred, bronzed skin. He was truly something to behold. So strong, handsome, and fearless. Yet also kind and gentle. The proximity of his body and the ricocheting emotions you had experienced that evening had you reacting to him in a way you never had before. It was confusing and strange yet also exciting, and the noises you were drawing from his mouth with every roll of your thumbs was causing a dull ache to form between your thighs.
You blinked and cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy curtain of lust that clung to you.
"What happened out there? One of your men informed me you were dead."
Marcus sighed and sat up straight, the angle causing you to drop your hands from his tight shoulders. One of his massive hands reached back to take yours so he could lead you to stand in front of him, between his knees.
"They had called a truce. They requested to discuss terms of surrender, so I called off my men and went to speak with their king," he began, his hand still engulfing your own as he gazed up at you with his soft, dark eyes. "It was a trap. They ambushed me when I got out of range. It must have been twenty of them," he continued solemnly, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he spoke. "I slayed them all, one by one, but once I took down their final solider, an archer took aim from the wall. I was able to dodge the arrow but I was not quick enough," he chuckled and looked down at his wound. "I am not the young man I once was."
"I cried for hours," you admitted quietly. His eyes darted up to yours again, holding his breath as you spoke. "I had never considered you would not return to me at the end of the day. However, when I got word you had died-"
You paused when a sob got lodged in your throat. You knit your brows together, hoping to stave off your tears while Marcus patiently waited. Eventually, you gave him a watery smile and lifted your free hand to cup his cheek.
"I felt a grief I never thought I would feel again," you said, voice shaking. His eyes searched your face, watching the way your anguish rolled through you at the memory. He swallowed tightly and, with his other hand, gently gripped your waist.
"Tell me," he whispered, "did you feel these things only because you feared for your safety if I was not here?"
You shook your head as one singular tear trickled down your cheek.
"No," you breathed, "it was because I felt like a part of me died, too. Because I could not imagine my life without you."
When you saw the joyful look in his eye, you quickly closed the remaining distance between you, leaning down the rest of the way and slanting your mouth desperately over his. He moaned and dropped your hand so he could cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer so you were forced to straddle his lap.
"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned amid kisses that were growing increasingly messy as the heat between you grew. "How badly I want you? How long I have waited?"
Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Marcus didn't give you a chance to respond, anyway. His tongue slipped past your lips, greedily swirling in tandem with yours and forcing your jaw to open wider. The hand on your waist dropped to flatten against your lower back and he pressed you forward so not even a sliver of moonlight could sneak between your bodies.
Underneath your gifted tunic, you were bare. When you joined the other whores all those weeks ago, they told you there was no use for undergarments, that the men would just destroy them if you bothered to wear any, so just like all the others, you never did. It had never been a problem until that very moment, when Marcus had you writhing in his lap, hips stretched wide and cunt free to rub against his thigh. When you first made contact with his leg, the firm muscle brushing against your sensitive clit, you jumped in his lap and moaned into his mouth.
"Tell me, sweet thing," he murmured when he finally broke the kiss. You were panting heavily, eyelids drooping with need as you gazed down at him. "I know you have not sold yourself to a man, but have you ever laid with one before?"
You shook your head and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. His lips brushed up against your throat and he began to suck on the sensitive skin there as both of his hands fell to your hips. Gently, he rocked you back and forth, sliding your slick, bare cunt over his thigh. He heard you sigh and smiled against your skin when your head dipped backwards in pleasure.
"Does that feel good?"
"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and thick. "Oh, yes, it feels... heavenly," you told him with a sigh.
"Good," he grunted, "keep going. Do not stop until you come. I will need you soft and wet before you take my cock."
"Yes, General," you replied obediently, making his cock jump behind his thin loincloth.
Marcus tugged at the back of your loose tunic, stretching the material across your breasts so your hardened nipples poked through. With a low growl, he lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one, cloth and all. His teeth added a surprisingly tantalizing amount of pressure that had you gasping for air as your hips quickened their pace over his thigh. You must have been leaving streaks of arousal all over him but something told you he didn't mind.
"You desire me, yes?" he questioned when he switched his attention to your other breast. You nodded feverishly, face tilted towards the ceiling as you chased your pleasure.
"Yes," you gasped, "yes, Ge- Marcus."
He groaned so loudly you thought he might wake up the whole ship.
"Fuck, say that again."
You smiled and circled your hips faster, grinding down onto his thick leg. You were so close, you could taste it.
"Marcus," you whined, "oh, Marcus. I cannot wait to feel you inside of me. I just know you will make me feel so good, will you not?"
Suddenly, his hand was back on your neck and his mouth was pressed tightly against the underside of your jaw, not unlike a wild animal pinning his prey against his sharp fangs. You could feel his hot puffs of air fanning across your skin and his teeth scraping your throat. His intensity might have frightened you if you weren't on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm.
"I will make you feel so good, you will never want to take another lover again," he said darkly. The hairs on your arms stood up but you continued to rut yourself as fast as you could against his thigh, your own chest heaving as you fought for air. "And if I have it my way, you never will," he added.
His words were what tipped you over the edge. You cried out his name and clutched at his shoulders for support as your orgasm rolled through you, covering him with your slick.
Your body was still trembling in his arms when he lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You blinked rapidly in response, poised to argue with him about potentially reopening his wound, but before you could get a single word out he had tossed you onto the sheets and climbed on top of you, caging you in.
"Before I ravish you, my sweet, what do you know of coupling?"
You scoffed. "I am no fool, I know how it works."
Marcus chuckled at your snark and sat back on his heels to peel your tunic over your head, exposing yourself entirely to him. A groan rumbled through his wide, bare chest as he stared down at you hungrily, all spread out and ready for him.
"I cannot lie. Ever since you first stood before me naked, your beautiful body has consumed my every waking thought."
"It shows incredible restraint, then, for you to share a bed with me each night," you teased, eyes dancing playfully as he stripped himself of his loincloth.
"You have no idea," he growled, falling back onto his forearms. The tip of his nose nudged against yours affectionately. "I have waited years for this, my sweet."
The idea of any man pining after you, let alone the mighty General of Rome, was a strange and foreign concept.
"I am just the daughter of a poor farmer," you muttered, fingers brushing his peppered curls behind his ear.
"Your station means very little to me," he replied, looking down between your bodies so he could notch the thick head of his cock at your opening. "The heart wants what the heart wants."
Your pulse quickened when you felt the slight bit of pressure he applied. Knowing how it worked was one thing, experiencing it for the first time was another.
"I-I was told it may hurt," you said meekly. Marcus's eyes found yours and he tenderly cupped your jaw.
"Yes, that is true, but I promise it will not last long," he assured you. You swallowed and nodded before spreading your legs wider and hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.
"Tell me if it is too much," he murmured. He pressed your foreheads together, lips hovering above yours, ready to soothe you from the pain.
"Go on, then," you said bravely.
Slowly, he breeched your opening and sunk one inch inside of you. You gasped and dug your heels harder into his thighs, but Marcus held steady.
"Speak," he demanded after a few seconds of listening to your heavy breathing.
"It stings," you admitted, "but it is not... unpleasant."
He nodded and pecked a chaste kiss against your lips before giving you another inch. You whined and squirmed a bit but once you settled, he took it as his cue to continue. It went just like that until he finally found himself fully seated inside of your tight heat.
"The worst is over, my sweet," he told you.
You wiggled underneath him, moving this way and that until you got used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hands wrapped around the backs of his biceps and you stretched your neck so you could bite and nip playfully at his prickly jaw.
"I enjoy being full of you," you admitted shyly, eliciting a grunt from the back of his throat.
"Good," he grumbled before drawing back his hips and slowly easing himself back inside your warmth. "Because I intend on having you full of me as much as possible. I fear I will never have enough now that you have given me a taste."
Your jaw dropped open when he began to move faster, gently and steadily working you open, carving a space for himself inside of you forever. The only thing you wanted was to have him as close as you could, so you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his neck, molding your bodies together as one.
"My sweet girl," he panted, mouth hunting for yours. "You feel better than I ever dreamed. So fucking tight and wet. I cannot believe my fortune, that you would give yourself to me. I wonder if I did indeed die in battle and have ascended to the heavens."
The stretch was divine, his heavy length dragging in and out of you and nudging against a spot that made your stomach clench and your head grow fuzzy.
"Do not say such things," you scolded him breathlessly. His hips stilled for a moment, waiting for you to continue. "Do not jest about your death. My heart cannot handle it."
His eyes softened and his mouth crashed against yours with a groan, overcome that you would feel so strongly for him. He began to roll his hips again but kept his mouth latched onto yours, swallowing down your whimpers and moans.
"I will never leave you," he whispered against your lips. His thrusts grew quicker but he tried his best to be careful and not drive himself too deep for fear of causing you pain. "I will always return now that I have you waiting for me. I shall be invincible in battle."
You laughed lightly, dragging your mouth down his throat and tasting his freshly perfumed skin.
"Was that all it took for you to become immortal?" you teased.
"Yes," he hissed, "a cunt as snug and perfect as yours is all a man needs to give him purpose."
His hand slithered between your back and sheets, pressing his palm firmly against your spine so you arched underneath him. His knees spread wider so he could get better leverage, and he began to roughly snap his hips. You gasped and grabbed onto his hair, giving it a sharp tug and making him groan. It was lewd yet somehow romantic, hearing the sound of your skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.
"Does it hurt?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.
"No," you whimpered inbetween the soft moans he drew every time his cock slammed back into you. "Oh gods, Marcus, please-"
"What do you need, my love?"
He sounded breathless, his voice slightly strained, and your chest burst with pride. You loved the idea of being the one who made such a strong man so very weak.
"I- I am not sure," you admitted truthfully. "It feels so wonderful, but it is different than before."
As it turned out, you didn't need to figure out what you needed because Marcus knew. Somehow, he managed to know your body better than you. He knew how to make it sing and thrum just for him.
His hand snuck between your bodies and the pad of his thumb found your clit. He rubbed firm, slow circles over the sensitive bud, and his name instantly flew from your mouth, loud and wild. You likely could be heard from shore, but Marcus never shushed you. In fact, he smiled and worked his thumb faster, drawing out more delicious moans with every stroke.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured while sucking a mark into your neck. He could feel your lower belly begin to tense and heard your breath waver, so he circled his hips faster, cock greedily plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, chasing his release with reckless abandon now that he could feel you were close.
"I have obsessed over you for years. Dreamed of having you all to myself, just like this," he continued. He could sense his words had a great effect on you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him when he admitted his deepest secrets, so he kept talking.
"Long nights spent on the cold ground in the middle of war, I would dream of you. I would wonder what you would be doing back in Rome. I would pray you did not find a husband while I was away."
Marcus gasped when your cunt gripped around him so tightly that it took his breath away. "The thought of you belonging to another was enough to drive me insane," he groaned before capturing your lips with his.
"I am yours," you rasped when he pulled away, and when your eyes locked, he could see the adoration he felt for you reflected right back. "For as long as you will have me, I am yours."
Marcus's eyes slid closed in bliss after hearing the words he so longed to hear. "Come for me, my love. Come for me and when we return home, I shall make you my wife. I will take care of you. I promise you will never go hungry again."
Your hands grappled with the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly locks as you pulled him down for a searing kiss. He muffled the sounds of your orgasm, cries of his name dying in your throat while your body bucked wildly beneath him.
It only took a few moments before he joined you. With his hand roughly squeezing your hip, he yanked you towards him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to shake.
Marcus flicked the sheets so he could toss them over your trembling bodies. He planted kisses along the side of your head and jaw, then brushed the hair away from your face until your breathing leveled and your eyes reopened.
"Are you alright?"
You nodded and gave him a weak smile. "I am tired."
Marcus withdrew his hips, sliding his softening cock out from your clutch. You cried out in pain and he instantly jolted out of bed to soak a clean rag in some leftover warm water, then hurried back to press it between your legs.
"Better?"
"Yes," you sighed. "Thank you."
He gave you a quick kiss and slid back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest so he could nuzzle your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear.
"Must you leave me in the morning? Can you not spend just one day recovering from your wound?"
Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and shook his head.
"The war is almost done. Tomorrow, I will make them surrender so we may sail home and start our life together."
You grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Did you mean that?"
"What is that, my love?"
"When you said you would make me your wife," you said sheepishly. "Or was that just your mind getting lost to desire?"
"No, I meant every word," he said before rolling over and snuffing out the candle next to the bed. "When we return to Rome, I will make you my bride. You will bear my children and I will watch them play in the garden with you by my side."
You hummed and closed your eyes. "That sounds lovely."
You had very little idea of the politics in Rome and how the highest ranking general of the Roman army could possibly announce he was going to wed a poor farmer's daughter, but you knew deep down if Marcus wanted it, he would somehow make it happen. You knew this because his determination always won, on and off the battlefield.
After all, you were living proof of it.
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rieamena · 3 months ago
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"mama!"
your seven year old daughter climbed onto your bed, bouncing on the mattress before settling into your warm embrace under the blankets. running a hand through her pink hair, you answered softly, "yes, sweetheart?"
it was almost like your genes didn't put up a fight at all. your child, chikara, was the spitting image of her father, your husband, ryomen sukuna. same hair, same face shape, same facial features, the only thing that seemed to be your contribution was her personality, and even then, sometimes you'll see your husband's characteristic scowl on her little face
"how did you and daddy meet?" "well, it was–"
"what's goin' on in here? conspiring against me?" sukuna's voice filled the room as he leaned against the door frame, a cheeky smirk on his face. you saw your daughter's face brighten up as she jumped down to run to her father, "daddy! daddy! mommy's gonna tell the story of when you first met!" sukuna immediately looked at you, his index finger barely being fully wrapped by his daughter's hand
"she asked me to. guess watching all those romantic dramas with her rubbed off on her." you giggled, earning a scowl from him. "shut it woman. you know i hate them." "yeah..., that's definitely why we watch 90 day fiance every sunday together." "you got a problem with— stop tryna move me brat!"
"but daddyyyyy," she whined, still pushing against sukuna's body, "i don't wanna miss mommy's story!" "we're literally seven feet away from her."
your daughter pouted and stopped trying to get her dad to move. letting go of his finger, and leaving him at the doorway, chikara plopped herself down at your side with wide, eager eyes, "go on, mommy, tell me! i wanna know everything."
you smiled, looking at sukuna, who rolled his eyes but gave a small nod. "alright, sweetheart. it all started one day in the park when i was watching over megumi, and your dad was taking care of his younger brother, yuuji…"
"yuuji?" chikara interrupted, her face lighting up. "uncle yuuji was there too?"
"yep, yuuji was just a little kid back then," you said with a soft laugh. "he was running around, being his usual energetic self, when he tripped and scraped his knee. your dad, being the great caretaker he is—"
"—i was plenty good at it," sukuna muttered
you shot him a look and continued, "—didn't seem too worried. he told yuuji to stop crying."
"i did not say it like that," sukuna cut in, pushing off the doorframe and coming closer to the bed. "i told him to toughen up. gotta learn how to handle a few scrapes."
your daughter giggled, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. "but mommy's a nurse, so she went over to help, right?"
"exactly. i couldn't just sit there watching, so i went over, knelt down, and started cleaning yuuji's knee. and i told your father—" you paused, giving sukuna a mischievous smile, "—that he should care more about his son instead of telling him to stop crying."
your daughter gasped dramatically, eyes wide with anticipation. sukuna groaned, running a hand over his face. "i knew you'd bring that up."
"and what did daddy say?" she asked, leaning in as if she could hardly wait
"he looked at me and said, 'that's not my son, that's my brother,'" you mimicked sukuna’s low, irritated tone. "i was so embarrassed!" sukuna chuckled at the memory, shaking his head. "you should've seen your mom’s face. all high and mighty, like she was about to call child protection services on me or something."
you couldn't help but laugh, too. "anyway, i patched yuuji up, and to make up for the misunderstanding, your dad suggested we set up a playdate for yuuji and megumi."
"a playdate?"
"yup," you nodded. "though i think your dad might've had other reasons for giving me his number." sukuna scoffed, folding his arms. "that didn’t happen."
you raised an eyebrow at him. "oh? so your eyes didn’t sparkle when i smiled and told you goodbye?" sukuna groaned again, this time louder. "my eyes did not do that."
chikara giggled harder, clearly enjoying the banter. "i think daddy liked you right away!" you smiled softly. "maybe he did. i mean, why else would he take me to a skate park for our first date?" sukuna rolled his eyes. "you said you wanted to learn how to skate. i was just being nice."
"uh-huh. sure," you teased. "and he was so good at it, zooming around, showing off. i'll admit..., he did look kinda cool! i, on the other hand, spent most of the time falling."
"which is why i had to keep catching you," sukuna added, sliding into the empty space next to you on the bed. "mommy fell? did daddy save you?" chikara asked, her face lighting up at the idea
sukuna ruffled her pink hair. "more like i had to stop her from breaking every bone in her body." you rolled your eyes at him. "i wasn't that bad."
"yes, you were," sukuna said, smirking. "you almost took me down with you half the time." smiling at the memory, you leaned in to kiss your daughter's forehead. "but it was fun. and after that, we went out for ice cream, and your dad actually smiled for real that time."
"daddy smiled? really?"
sukuna shot you a half-hearted glare. "i smile."
"not back then you didn't," you teased, poking his arm. chikara turned to her dad, beaming. "i wanna learn to skate, too, just like you and mommy!" sukuna chuckled, wrapping an arm around her
"maybe one day, brat. but you’re probably gonna fall as much as your mom did."
"hey!"
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gulp... sorry if sukuna is ooc, im tired and im on my period but i really liked this request so...
jjk taglist
@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice
@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses
@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud
@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem
@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen
@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath
@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation
@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd
@e-dollly
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classyrbf · 5 months ago
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YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN
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SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop
INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
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TOJI
toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.
GOJO
ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.
NANAMI
nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.
GETO
geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”
CHOSO
I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.
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teamred · 5 months ago
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any other way
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✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k
SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.
WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy
RATING | teen+
NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!
///
“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 
Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  
And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 
“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 
“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.
“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 
“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”
“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 
Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 
He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.
“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 
“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”
You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 
“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 
“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 
“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 
You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 
“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 
You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 
“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 
Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.
“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”
“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 
He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 
“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 
The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 
“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 
The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 
Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–
But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 
“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 
It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 
Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 
You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.
“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 
“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 
As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.
“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 
You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 
Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—
“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 
Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 
“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 
“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 
“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 
“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 
“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 
Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 
“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 
“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.
“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 
“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.
You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 
“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 
“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 
“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 
You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 
“Great, I’ll call you later.” 
Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.
“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 
Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”
“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 
His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 
You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.
Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 
“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.
“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 
Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 
Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 
Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 
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ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!
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sunarc · 1 year ago
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Dilf Toji fucks you nice and slow when you’re done putting Megumi down for bed. He wants to thank you for being so good to him and his son. As a single dad it gets hard so when you came into the picture offering your services it was hard to deny such a genuine offer. You’re so good to Megumi, gentle, kind and patient. Toji can’t help the growing bulge in his pants when he sees you being such a strong mother figure. He has to show you his gratitude. The best way he can do that is by having you in a mating press so he can fuck you nice and deep. 
“You like that?” his voice is a soft hum. 
You feel dizzy. His cock feels so deep. He’s stretching you out more than ever before. You call out his name in a soft whimper.
“Yeah? I’m right here doll don't worry I’m not going anywhere” he groans.
Toji’s obsessed with the way you look taking his cock. Your hole looks so perfect clenching, barely able to fit all of him. You look so full, Toji can’t help but imagine how full you would look with his cum drooling out of you. He has to see it. He’s determined to fuck you full of his cum. His cock plunges in and out of you creating a pattern. Your moans fall past your lips making a tune Toji never wants to forget. 
“That’s it, good girl, say my name” you sound so pretty to him. “Tell me who fucks you this good, say it , tell me no one can make you shake like this, no one can fill this pussy up the way i can”
He’s never felt himself lose control like this before. There’s something about you, something that leaves him desperate for more. He craves you, desires you every waking second. The way your lips part letting pleads and moans drip off your tongue has him losing his mind. He can’t get enough of you. He knows he should be quiet but the way your cunt feels squeezing him so tight he thinks he just might lose his mind. “That feel good baby? Yeah I know” he coos “I’m gonna fuck you so full” his pace is picking up speed. 
His mind is practically blank thinking of how he wants to fill you to the brim with his cum. No that’s not enough he needs to give you every last drop he has. 
“You need my cum don’t you” he’s desperate to hear you say it. He’s practically begging to hear you asking for his cum. Tell him how much you want his babies. He can make you a mommy. Don’t you want him to make you a mommy?
“Our baby is gonna be so beautiful” he whispers. He isn’t sure if you can hear him but he doesn’t mind as long as you’re still losing your mind calling out his name. 
“That’s right” he growls “Say my name while I fuck a baby into you”
His hand push your thighs further down so he can reach deeper. The way he drags his cock past you slick walls has you shaking. Your words come out slurred. 
“It’s too big” you whine as he goes deeper
“No no you can take it.” he bites he lips continuing his long deep strokes. He knows you can take it. Your eyes roll back when he begins grinding his hips into you. He knows he’s hit the spot he’s been searching for. 
“There she is” he chuckles. 
You can barely contain the moans now. Your body is shaking uncontrollably. 
“Please” you gasp “S-slow down, I’m gonna make a mess” you cry.
Toji loves the sound of that. He thrust pick up speed, fucking into you even harder. 
“That’s it, just like that, make a mess on my cock.”
He’s desperately chasing after his own orgasm. He wants to cum with you. His thrust are sloppy. He’s moaning your name pleading for you to cum for him. 
“Cum-fuck Now” he demands. 
You can’t help the juices the splatter against his abs as he fucks his load into you. The two of you are a moaning mess. You ramble incoherent words paired with his name. His eyes are glued on the sticky mess between the two of you. The squelching sounds of his cock fucking his cum back in fill the room. 
“What a pretty sight this is. I hope it’s a girl” he moans “She’ll have your eyes” 
You can barely give him a reply to focused on the way his cock is still plunging in and out. 
“It’s too much” you slur.
“No baby it’s not enough” he groans “I gotta make sure this tummy is full of my cum. One more just one more okay”
Toji has plans on fucking way more than just one more load into you. He has to fuck you full until he’s sure of it you’ll be the one carrying Megumi’s little sister.
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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months ago
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Beneath a Dragon's Gaze
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Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different | Word Count: 1.7k~ | Warnings: sex work, smut, hair pulling, biting, titty sucking, darkish Aemond
A/N: saw ep 3 and felt silly 😁 not proofread an inch
“The Prince has asked for you.”
She could not help the wide-eyed look and the familiar flipping of her stomach, now feeling entirely different with the words that had come from her fellow woman’s lips. The Prince. Well, it could have meant either of them only weeks before, but no longer. They frequented this establishment quite often, as an upper-class brothel, with only the finest whores and service, it was only natural, and they had the coin to pay for it.
Suddenly, she felt quite cold in the sheer dress she had chosen that evening, doing very little to conceal the flesh that hid beneath, her nipples having formed peaks against the satin. What could she possibly say to that? There was no possibility of refusing. 
“Very well,” she responded, knowing it was not her place to question. There was no question as to which now, it was most certainly the very same who frequented for the warm embrace and soothing voice of Madame Sylvi, who spent hours in her company and paid her a hefty price for it. For secrecy. But she knew just as well that the only reason Aemond had requested her instead, was because on this night, his usual appointment was indisposed. 
Her heart raced as she slalomed through the scantily clad crowd, each step bringing her closer to the corner where the prince awaited. The halls were dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls, alongside those of curved figures, twisted with pleasure. She could hear the muted sounds of such from the other rooms, but they did little to quell the nervousness that gripped her.
When she reached the curtain, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The Prince. Aemond Targaryen. Known for his fierce demeanour and sharp intellect, he was not a man to be trifled with. Yet, beneath that cold exterior, she had heard whispers of a man burdened by the weight of his family.
Sliding the curtain across, met with the Prince, eyepatch already discarded and down only to his breeches, sat with cup in hand on the plush settee, his lone eye raising to her as she dipped for a curtsy. She felt her throat close at the sight of the sapphire, somewhat mirroring what was happening between her thighs.
"Madame Sylvi sends her apologies, my prince. She is unable to attend to you this evening."
Aemond's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "I did not call for Sylvi tonight," he said finally, his tone giving nothing away. "I called for you."
Her lips parted to question. But she dare not let the words free. She was not one to ask about his intentions, a mere whore.
“Undress.”
The Prince’s eye never wavered as he watched, flesh revealed as she bared herself to him. He stood as if uncurling himself, finishing what was left in his cup before moving his hands to unlace his breeches, his head gesturing to the settee.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
His commanding tone made those flutters awaken once more. She had been employed at this establishment for so long, of course being naked and bared to an abundance of men was second nature. But there was something about the way he wanted her, the way it seemed not spurred by desire of any kind, but a need, like air, that ignited her nerves that she had not felt since her first few days in this line of work.
Still, bare arsed and exposed to a Prince, was a different matter entirely.
She felt his presence behind her, knowing he was naked as his thighs brushed against hers. He nudged her knees apart and pushed gently on her spine, encouraging her to arch her back. Though she could not see his face, the rippled design of the copper in front of her reflected enough for her to sense the detachment in his actions. So, she remained silent.
Prince Aemond guided himself to her centre, barely wet, and pushed his cockhead inside. He had barely breached her when his hands gripped the flesh of her buttocks, watching intently as his cock slowly slid deeper into her cunt, being swallowed by her body. She closed her eyes, the lack of preparation making the act more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but she hoped that with time, her arousal would ease the discomfort.
As Prince Aemond continued to push himself inside her, she focused on her breathing, trying to relax her body and ease the discomfort. The room was silent except for their breaths, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced on the walls. Each inch he gained felt like a stretch, a challenge to her body's readiness, but she bit her lip, determined to endure.
His hands, firm on her buttocks, began to knead her flesh, his grip alternating between gentle caresses and possessive squeezes. The friction built steadily, her body slowly acclimating to his presence. The initial pain started to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and the stirrings of pleasure.
Aemond moved with a deliberate pace, his thrusts measured and controlled. He seemed intent on watching every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside her, his breathing heavy and laboured. She could feel his intensity, the way he held back his own urges to maintain that slow, torturous rhythm.
Despite the initial discomfort, her arousal began to build. Her body responded to his movements, her inner walls slickening and accommodating his length with increasing ease. Soft moans escaped her lips, unbidden but honest, as pleasure began to mix with the remnants of pain.
Aemond's hands slid from her buttocks to her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting spots inside her that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, seeking some anchor as the sensations intensified.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you feel that?" he murmured, his voice husky and edged with restraint. "Do you feel how you take me in?"
"Yes, my prince," she gasped, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "I feel it."
Aemond's pace quickened slightly, his control slipping as his own desire took precedence. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a rhythmic, primal music that spoke of need and release. Her moans grew louder, her body arching and pushing to meet his thrusts, seeking the pleasure that now consumed her.
With a sudden, possessive grip, Aemond's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. His lips found her skin, teeth grazing lightly before he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to claim. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench around his cock.
He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her. "Take me, all of me," he whispered, his voice filled with approval and satisfaction. 
She surrendered to the sensations, her body melting into his as pleasure overwhelmed her. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word from Aemond drove her closer to the edge. The discomfort was a distant memory now, replaced by a wave of ecstasy that built with each passing second. His movements so erratic, his stones clapped against her womanhood with every harsh push, slapping against her bud in a steady, unyielding rhythm.
The sensation pushed her over the edge, her own climax washing over her in a powerful, all-consuming wave. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Finally, with a deep, guttural moan, Aemond drove himself to the hilt inside her once more, his body shuddering and then withdrawing quickly as he found his release and coated her buttocks and thighs with his pearly spend.
They stayed like that for a moment, both catching their breath, their bodies still joined. Slowly, Aemond released his grip on her hair and hips, his hands soothing over the marks he'd left. He pulled out of her velvety walls gently, leaving her feeling both spent and fulfilled.
She expected him to leave, to gather his clothes and slip away into the night, as most men often do with a flick of their coin into her lap. But instead, Aemond surprised her. He curled into her body, his head resting against her chest. His lips found her breast, mouthing at her skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of their earlier encounter. His hand moved to her other breast, caressing it with a gentle, almost reverent touch.
She looked down at him, her fingers threading through his silver, moonlit hair. He seemed to take more pleasure in this simple intimacy than she did, as if seeking comfort rather than mere satisfaction. His eyes were closed, his breathing steadying as he continued to nuzzle her chest.
"I hate it," he murmured after a long silence, his voice muffled against her skin.
She blinked, unsure of his meaning. "Hate what, my prince?"
Aemond shifted slightly, his hand stilling on her breast. "Sometimes, I think Madame Sylvi just says anything to appease me. She tells me what she thinks I want to hear, not what she truly believes."
There was a bitterness in his tone that caught her off guard. "Why do you think that?" she asked softly, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.
Aemond's grip on her breast tightened slightly, and she felt a shiver of unease. His lips brushed against her nipple, then his teeth grazed it, sending a jolt through her body. "Because it's easier for her," he said, his voice lower, more dangerous. "Because I'm a prince, and she fears offending me."
She gasped softly at the sensation, the mix of pleasure and pain reminding her of the precarious balance between comfort and control. "But you deserve honesty, my prince," she managed to say, her voice trembling.
He bit down a little harder, enough to make her wince. "Do I?" he asked, his tone a warning. "Or do I deserve the truth, no matter how it feels?"
Her heart raced, the threat in his words unmistakable. "The truth, my prince," she whispered, trying to maintain her composure. "Always the truth."
Aemond's teeth released her nipple, his tongue soothing the sting. He looked up at her, his eye fierce and unyielding. The sapphire lodged in the other piercing and dark. 
"Good," he said, his voice a soft growl. "Because I have no patience for lies, no matter how pretty they are."
General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch
@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust
@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto
@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince
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motomamita · 2 months ago
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JUST HAD A THOUGHT !
König as a rising underground boxer, with his cute little nurse that comes with him whenever he goes. He lets no one else look after him and all his bandages have cute symbols on it.
Media is all over him and he just can’t help but brag about his cutie patootie nurse that only cares for him, and no other boxer has eye candy like he does.😵‍💫
boxer!könig × nurse!reader
warnings: +18, smut, sex!
you needed money urgently and you were in your last year of nursing. that's when you met könig, who was a friend of a friend of yours and who needed your services in exchange for good pay.
your first meeting with him was in the basement of a bar far from the city, late at night. könig showed up in the locker room, shirtless and wearing boxer shorts. his face and entire body had bruises and scars that seemed to have healed not very well. that's when you knew you were going to have a very hard job there.
in his following fights, könig managed to win and take first place in the standings. After each fight, both received a good amount of money that you shared equally. you spent hours with him in the locker room, cleaning his bloody face and placing bandages on his bruised knuckles. sometimes you got so late that könig invited you to his small apartment, where you took care of him until you inevitably fell asleep in his bed. könig took advantage and pulled you towards him, letting you sleep on his chest.
soon König gained recognition and was invited to fight in the best competitions in the city. both became a team and had to show yourselves as such. now you were wearing a matching shirt and skirt with the inscription "property of könig" on the back, so everyone would know that you were HIS nurse. könig dressed to match you, choosing the same colors of shorts that you choose for your little skirts.
the media began to take an interest in both, calling you "the little nurse" and praising the good chemistry you both had. noticing how your face became worried every time könig received a hit or how you jumped with excitement every time he won, without caring that your panties were visible under your skirt.
you also caught the attention of the other boxers who did not miss the opportunity to look up your skirt or try to talk to you. unfortunately for them, könig was always next to you, hugging you around the waist and growling almost like a dog when any of those sons of bitches tried to get close to you.
everyone understood that it was in vain to try to separate you, you were both there for each other. könig wore a chain around his neck along with a sign with your name on it that he always kissed before entering the ring because, according to him, it gave him luck. and every time he won, he would run up to you to hug and kiss you, not caring that he was dripping with blood and sweat.
dor your part, you massaged his muscles before each fight and even sucked his cock to make him more "relaxed." könig just let you do whatever you want with him just by feeling your skin on his and not going too far away.
today könig had fought the final against another guy, for a lot, a lot of money. in a fight straight out of a movie, könig had managed to establish himself as the supreme winner. the photos of you two hugging and kissing didn't take long, as did the glasses of champagne to celebrate. once the celebrations had calmed down, you took könig to the locker room, you had to clean his bleeding nose and a large open scar on his right cheekbone. but, he had other plans.
"that's it, keep it up.. c'mon.."
könig moaned, lying on a bench, while you rode his thick, sweaty cock. in your hand you still had the gauze with which you were trying to clean his wounds but it was difficult for you to stop in the face of so much pleasure.
at your waist you wore the könig winner's belt and several bills clutched in your short skirt. you couldn't stop releasing on him, feeling how your moisture fell down the length of his cock and wet his sweaty balls. the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust while your clits slapped against his happy trail.
"keep jumping, fuck you, fuck... my little nurse, always taking care of me, huh?"
könig brought his big hands to your breasts, breaking the buttons on your shirt and moving your bra, leaving your breasts in the air. you moaned at the change in temperature and your warm walls squeezed könig's throbbing cock. the breaths and moans of both of you echoed in the locker room as did the sound of your skin colliding.
"come on, make me cum, i know you can..."
he asked, now bringing his hands to your hips, helping you continue bouncing his cock. könig couldn't resist and raised his hips, fucking you hard and finishing inside you.
that night you returned home with the prize and with even more energy to fuck until the next morning.
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7s3ven · 25 days ago
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FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1
( full master list) (intro to this series)
IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.
Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems
A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.
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The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.
The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.
In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.
But as always, life in jail still sucked.
You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.
“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.
Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.
The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.
“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.
“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.
Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”
She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.
“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.
“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.
“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”
Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”
“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.
“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”
“And the catch of this job?”
Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”
You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?
“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”
Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.
“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”
Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.
The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.
“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.
“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”
Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.
There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.
“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”
Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”
The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.
A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.
“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.
“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.
You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.
“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”
You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.
The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”
You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”
Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”
“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.
The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.
“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.
“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”
“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.
The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.
You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.
“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.
“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.
“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”
“Thought you said I got no money.”
“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.
“And I walk free.”
Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”
You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.
“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.
“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”
“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.
“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.
“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”
Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.
Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.
You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.
“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.
“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.
“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.
You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.
“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.
He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.
You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.
“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.
“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”
You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”
“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”
You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.
The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.
The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.
It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.
“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.
You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.
The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.
Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.
“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.
“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.
She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.
“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.
Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.
“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.
“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.
“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.
Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.
“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.
You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”
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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago
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‘𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧 (𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦-𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝 & 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝)’
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pervert!reader, bdsm, service sub!reader, dom!toji, dom!sukuna, dom!suguru, dom!satoru, gang-bang, degradation/praise/mocking/taunting, daddy/princess, pain kink, mind break/dumbification, overstimulation, they all got big dick, vibrator, collar and leash, light bondage, blindfold, voyeurism, biting, spanking, some face spalling, drinking satoru's cum outta a pussy sleeve, double penetration, dacryphilia, some cervix fucking, light belly bulge, squirting
𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟏𝟒 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬/𝟑.𝟗𝐤
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: sukuna/toji/gojo/geto foursome??? w/ heavy degradation andddddddd dumbifiction and they’re like rlly mean to reader lolz. u can do anything else u want i trust u
fey: the way i've been fixated on writing this is ridiculous, gangbang requests are my fav / @omgeto / @lov3rbody hope you don't mind me tagging you girly thought you might enjoy this one
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Waiting with your legs spread, rubbing a vibrator on your clit. Tonight you’re a nameless glory hole for a random guy to fuck and cum in. It's your guilty pleasure to be whored out and degraded.
If only it were by your handsome, muscular roommates. They could pass you around like one of their fat blunts.
Scarlet states on your sex room's ceiling speakers. "A group of four is coming. Ya gonna enjoy them, rowdy hotties. They might last a while." Moving to the edge of the bed, where you bend over, legs spread.
The door slides open and closes behind the silent group. You're anticipating lewd, crude comments, large hands on your hips, and a warm, hard cock in your needy cunt. Slipping the vibrator inside you, moaning.
"Aren't you gonna use me?" Spreading your cunt apart with your fingers. Letting them see the toy pulsing in your cunt. Rubbing your clit, whining. "Please, I'll be a good slut." Stuffing the toy inside, groaning when it touches your sweet spot.
You hear a familiar deep voice, “You'll be a good slut for daddy n' let me get my moneys worth outta your sloppy cunt.” Clenching the toy pulsing in your cunt. Heating up in embarrassment, quickly standing up and turning around.
Whimpering his name, "Tooojiiinn?" The sweet pleasure from the vibrator keeps you from sounding firm. Your thighs trembling, knees weakening, sitting down. They've caught you being a slut.
Toji slips off his shirt quickly. "You'll gonna be fucked too stupid think straight so we'll keep it simple for you. Dirty slut call us daddy." You're done for.
Spreading your legs open, slipping the vibrator out by the long string-like rubber piece. You cunt spams when you rub your clit. Curling your toes into the sofa carpet, Loudly moaning, "Whatever you want Daddy." Toji slips his sweats off.
His cock is thicker than you thought. With puffy veins, you want to trace with your tongue. He's going to break your cunt with a cock like that.
Suguru folds his shirt and pants, setting it on the door side counter. "Whatever we want, good little slut." Sukuna and Satoru throw their clothes together in a small pile. All of them are beautiful, with thick pecs, washboard abs, meaty arms, and muscular thighs
Sukuna snaps "Good slut my ass!" He playful glares, a predatory smirk on his kissable lips. "Fuckin' whore lied to us, said she was hanging out with some friends." You want to sit on his beautiful tattooed face.
Toji adds, "If ya us the truth we could have just tied ya up at home." He picks up a thin collar, with its leash attached.
Swirling the toy on your clit. "Didn't feel like advertising I'm submissive at a BDSM sex club occasionally. What if I got designated to a whore instead of a friend?" Joining in for Sukuna's horror movie nights. Random late-night drives with Satoru and Suguru. Toji's fat blunts and warm cuddles.
These were things you don't want to miss out on if they see you differently.
Satoru spits into his large palm, smearing it over his head. Lightly pumping his hand over his pale pink head. "Aw, don't worry you're always gonna be our lil princess. " He smears the thick pre-cum seeps from his slit with his thumb.
Toji wraps the collar around your neck. Tugging on the leash, forcing you off the edge of the bed and onto your knees. "So you told a little lie to your friends because you thought we'd shun ya for being a slut." He winds the chain around his big rough hand. Yanking you forward, you brace yourself on Toji's thick muscular thighs.
"Yes, I'm allowed to keep things private. 'Side now ya know, ya know my safe word, limits. Are you gonna keep bein' a meanie or are ya use me?" Sticking your tongue out. Toji slaps his heavy cock on your tongue.
He glides his cock into your mouth. "I've always wanted to bully ya more when ya call me a meanie." Gagging you, holding your head in place with a large hand. Pumping his cock in your mouth. You suck in your cheeks, keeping your tongue out, relaxing your neck.
Suguru encourages you, "Hold your hands out for Satoru and I." A large hand guides yours to their warm cock. Swirling your fists, gliding your hand along the length of their cocks.
Satoru croons, "Hmm your hand is so soft 'round my cock." Suguru's droops underneath his weight, too thick for your fingertips to touch. Satoru is a couple inches longer, slimmer but reasonably thick, with more puffy veins.
Your cunt clenches nothing, your slick dripping down your thighs. They are all so big, your cunt is going to be sore for days after this. Are you going to walk after this? They could take you home with them, and you could call it a night.
Anyone after Suguru, Satoru, Toji, and Sukuna would be a disappointment anyway.
Filling your lungs when Toji glides his cock out. He steps aside for Sukuna to stand next to him. "Wondered if your cock was tattooed." Wrapping your lips around Sukuna's light tan thick cockhead. Bobbing your head, groaning, taking him in deep long strokes. Gagging occasionally.
Sukuna wonders, "Is that the only thing you wondered about us?" Loudly slurping, sucking, swirling your tongue around his cock. Gliding him deeper, gagging yourself when your nose touches the short patch of Sukuna's dark hair. Sliding him out with a pop, his cock hangs, too heavy to stand up.
Kissing Sukuna's fat balls, sucking them into your mouth. Toji pulls you back, "Tell us what goes on in that perverted head of yours. Or you're not cumming." It's getting you off to have so many thick cock in your face. The slick sounds of their fist gliding along their cocks goes straight to your cunt.
Letting Satoru go, replacing Toji's hand. There is more space between your fingertips than with Suguru's cock. They're impossibly thick, able to split your cunt open and leave you gaping.
"You're cocks makin' my cunt soaking wet." Biting your lip, fighting the uncertainty. Kneeling, surrounded by four beautiful muscular men with big cocks and heavy balls they're intending to empty in your cunt. "But I dunno if I can handle all four of you. All of you are huge, but I wanna try." Turning your head, kiss Satoru's pale pink cock head.
Trailing kisses along the puffy vein, dragging your tongue up to his head. Licking up his salty sweet pre-cum. Sucking on his balls gently, swirling your tongue. Satoru croons, "Stupid little slut is trying to take on more than she can handle. "s hot makes me wanna break her."
Suguru groans, "Aww, we're too big for our little princess." Steadily pumps his cock, swiping your thumb over his head. Suguru has the prettiest cock and balls. Taking a moment to admire his thick thicks, heavy balls, and pre-cum dripping from his fat head.
You croon, "Some of the biggest, pretties cocks I've seen." Letting Suguru go, fondling Sukuna's balls. Switching to Suguru's cock, leaving Toji to stroke his own cock.
You feel the leash move as it switches hands. Sukuna, Suguru, and Satoru shift, closing in when Toji walks off. He suggests, "We should tie her up, blindfold her, and make her guess whose touchin' her." You hear a chair scrap as he moves it closer.
Struggling to take Suguru deeper, he pushes your head down with a large hand. Sukuna suggests, "The leash is long enough that it can bind her hands." Gliding your hand from massaging Sukuna's balls to stroking his thick cock. Swirling your fist, keeping a quick and steady pace.
Gliding Suguru out of your mouth with a pop. "Still new to this but I can handle two." Letting Sukuna go, twisting your hands behind your back for Satoru to bind with the chain. Satoru slaps your ass, slipping his fingers between your legs.
Satoru drags his fingertips along your wet slit, swirling around your needy hole. "You look so beautiful princess with that collar around your neck, tied up." Whining, trying your best not to rock your hips back when he pulls away.
Suguru orders, "Stand up." Quickly rising, "Good girl." Toji has a blindfold, Sukuna has lube and a buttplug. "Are you gonna be a good, little glory hole?" Suguru twists you around, bending you over the edge of the bed.
There's a pleasurable thrill you feel in your cunt from being manhandled. "Please use me. I want my meanie roommates to bully me, and fuck me stupid. Wanna be a dirty cock hungry whore." Suguru yanks on the chain, pulling your head back, blindfolding you.
Suguru lets you go. Another pair of large hands spread your cheeks. Too rough to be Suguru's. Digging in his nails and taking a large bite of your left cheek. "Toji, Nn Daddy!" He groans when you cry. "Know your hands anywhere." He bites your other cheek, gliding his fingers to your slit.
You're trapped between the bed and Toji. "You're always pulling me onto your lap and teasin' me by rubbing my thighs getting so close to my cunt." He curls his fingers into your soaking wet, tight cunt. "I want you to fuck me in front of everyone, make me your whore." Your cunt squelched when he pumps his fingers.
Toji croons, "Right a fuckin' way. Proud of ya." He spread his fingers apart, spitting into your cunt. Stuffing it in with a loud groan, "Fuck you're so damn wet, dripping down your soft thighs." He drags his nails, scratching your cheek down to your thighs. Squeezing, savoring how his fingers sink into your squish.
Squirming, the sweet firey pain of Toji's scratches adds to the sweet pleasure of getting finger fucked. Hearing Suguru, Satoru, and Sukuna groan as they touch themselves to the sight. Waiting for their turn to use your soft body. It turns you on m.
Toji groans, slapping your thigh and watching it jiggle. "Having your tiny, soft body to fold in two n' fuck mindless is makin' my night." Pumping both his fingers faster, stroking your sweet spot.
Toji croons, "The things I've been wanting to do to ya." It's only taking a few strokes from Toji's fingers and the pressure-building snaps. Intense sweet pleasure tingling in your cunt consumes your whole body. Moaning, clenching his thick fingers.
You plead, "Nnn cumming! Nng your fingers feel so good in my cunt. Mmm wanna make your cock feel good, wanna make you cum Daddy." Toji glides his finger out, roughly slapping both cheeks. Smearing your cum with each heavy spank.
Sukuna groans, "Fuck she's so hot cryin' from getting her cheeks beat. Hit her harder, make our dirty little whore sob." You jolt forward, the bed preventing you from getting far. Firey pain erupts from each harsh slap.
Crying, trembling, struggling to keep your feet planted flat. Toji glides his cock "Stupid slut is getting off on her it. She's clenching, begging for a cock." It's hot how vulnerable you are, tied up, blindfolded. Bent in front of a large, muscular man with his cock throbbing.
Your dripping wet cunt is his to use how he wishes. "Please use me, let me be your stupid little cock sleeve." He lines his cock up, lightly gliding just the tip in. Fighting the urge to rock your hips back.
He glides his fat head in. The soft ridge of his cock head tugs your tight cunt before slipping out. Sliding himself in, "Dirty fuckin slut letting anyone use your cunt. Gonna fuck ya so hard that your glory hole breaks. You won't be thinking of anyone else but me after this." He leans over you, rolling his hips forward.
He tugs on your leash. Pulling your head back, making the collar dig into your neck. Straining your pleads, "Fuck me, please! Please! Fuck me!" The bed dips, a rough hand grabs your chin and warm cock nudes your lips. Opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
Toji bites your shoulder, whining, your cunt clenching Toji's fat veiny cock. Suguru reminds, "Let the whore try to guess if she's not too stupid to." Which canceled out him.
"Satoru's hands are too damn soft." Toji picks up his pace, fucking his fat cock into you harder. "Nootthim!" Your words slur together with a moan. You're unable to keep your thoughts together.
He roughly slaps your face. "Say it you cock drunk slut." Your cheek stings, cunt clenching Toji's veiny cocky. "You're only purpose in life is to take fat cocks. That's all our greedy beautiful whore is meant for." Sukuna roughly fucks your mouth.
Choking you with his cock, gliding his cock out and slapping you across the other cheek. Toji hits your ass, digging in his nails and jiggling your soft fat. Sukuna pulls his cock out with a soft pop.
Collecting your breath, begging "Sukuna please! Daddy please. I'm only good for taking fat cocks and dumping cum in. I'm a dirty perverted slut who can't get enough of having her cunt played with!" Your cunt quivers around Toji's cock, squeezing him tighter than before. Your thick slick gushing down your thighs as you cum.
Trembling, unable to think straight. Giving in to nothing but the pleasurable feeling of getting fucked stupid by Toji's fat cock. Every puffy vein getting thicker, the twitching of his cock. He's so close to spilling in your soaking wet, tight cunt.
Sticking your tongue out, with a swift thrust, Sukuna buries himself in your hot, wet mouth. His large balls smack your chin.
Satoru moans, "Fuck couldn't help from cumming with our pretty dumb little slut begging like that." Sukuna rips your blindfold off. Groaning when he sees your tearful eyes. Tugging on the neck, choking you with the collar, fucking your mouth faster.
Suguru suggests, "I bet our cum dump is thirsty. Make her beg for it." You want to drink Satoru's cum. Not care if it tastes good or not. If it made their cocks hard you'll be their pretty cum thirsty slut.
Sukuna groans, "Fuckin' crybaby slut knows how to take it." Toji's thick hot cum spills trickling from his head. Then shooting out in thick, short bursts. Fucking it deep, smearing it with sloppy ragging thrusts.
He groans, "Pretty little cock sleeve can take all my cum in her tight sloppy cunt." Slowly gliding his cock out, stuffing the cum that trails after his cock. Keeping some of it from spilling out easily.
Toji slaps your ass one more time. "Pretty little slut! Hmm her fat cunt looks good dripping cum." Sukuna glides his cock out. Undoing your bound wrists, yanking your leash, dragging you onto the bed.
Flipping you over, and getting on top of you. Sukuna pins you in a mating press, dipping his head and biting your breasts. Flicking your nipple with his tongue. With your hands free you dig your nails into his back. Scratching alongside his tattoos.
Sukuna groans, rocking his hips, gliding his fat cock on your sloppy cunt. Sinking his teeth in deeper. You slide your hands into his pink hair, pulling to hear him moan.
Suguru and Satoru climb on the bed, hovering on either side of your head. In Satoru's hands in the pussy sleeve full of cum. "Please lemme drink your cum, I'm a thirsty whore." Licking your hand, cupping Suguru's balls, massaging them gently.
Sukuna lets your breast go, pinching your other nipple. Pulling on it, making you arch your back and cry. You can feel it in your clit. Sukuna lines up his veiny tattooed cock with your cum filled cunt.
His abs flex when he slams his cock in. Sukuna's using his strength and weight to restrain you in a tight mating press. Pinning both legs by your side, keeping you from running away or even wiggling. Making you take the full harsh force of Sukuna's thrust.
Opening your mouth, Satoru touches the rim of the pussy sleeve to your bottom lip. His liquid cum trickling onto your tongue. It's sweet, with a slight thickness. "Good fuckin' slut drink my fuckin cum make my cock hard again." Wrapping your fingers around Suguru's head, swiping your thumb over it.
Swallowing the mouthful of Satoru's cum. Sukuna's fucking your cunt too roughly. Your stomach bulges with his cock head hitting your cervix. "I can see how deep I'm going in my thirsty cock whore sloppy cunt." Toji left you feeling sore. Bringing an overwhelming sensitivity.
Your sloppy cunt can't take anymore. "Too much! Can't your cock 's too big, going too deep innnn mmy" Sukuna picks up his speed. Unable to focus on stroking Suguru's cock crying, "Cunt so sore from Toji's fat cock. Too much!" Pushing Sukuna's abs, failing to get away.
Sukuna grabs the vibrator you left on the bed. Clicking it on, holding it to your puffy clit. Snapping at you, "No safe word means I don't fuckin' care. Shut the fuck up and choke on his cock." Crying, warm tears trickling down your face.
Suguru lightly slaps your lips with his heavy head, smearing his pre-cum. "Took two cocks to break her, pathetic." Suguru straddles your neck, Sukuna holds the toys still on your clit. Adding too much pressure, the uncomfortable pain conflicts with the sweet pleasure of his cock stroking your sweet spot.
You're unable to decide if it hurts or feels good when his cock hits your cervix. Giving into every sweet pleasurably painful sensation, not bothering to think. Wanting them to use your body for their pleasure.
You're their cock hungry, dumb little slut. You don't need to think, you just need to take their cocks. Satoru croons, "It's too much, too deep!" Suguru gags you with his cock, his balls hitting your chin.
Clenching Sukuna's cock, you're so close to an intense peak. "Fuck!" You can feel Sukuna's thick cum spurting from his fat head. He glides his large hands down your thighs, squeezing your hips.
Wrapping your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer. Getting off on Sukuna fucking his cum in your sloppy cunt with Toji's. "Nnn how can her sweet cunt get tighter?" He swirls the vibrator on your clit.
Suguru slips his cock out, letting you breathe. Sukuna twists your nipple, crying from the sharp pain. Suguru shoves his cock into your mouth. Covering half your face with his balls. Groaning, he's gotten hard again quickly.
Grabbing Suguru's cock, swirling your fist, pumping your fist along his thick veiny cock. “Hmm as good as your hand feels I need to be inside ya princess.” Letting Sukuna go, he glides his softening cock out. Handing the vibrator to Suguru.
Suguru pulls away. “Toru let me get her on my chest, we can share her messy cunt.” Satoru whines, giving a couple more quick pumps. Fondling your sore breasts, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.
He croons, “Dunno if our princess can handle that. She was strugglin’ to take Sukuna.” Choking you with his cock, grabbing muscular his thighs, digging your nails in. “Won’t it be too much for our glory hole? We’ll have to carry her to the care after this.” Gliding himself out, dragging his balls across your face.
Sticking your tongue out, happily groaning. “Course a whore like you would get off to that.” Suguru slaps your cunt. Whining from the sweet pain, clenching nothing. Wanting another thick cock stretching your aching cunt despite you previous claims.
Satoru pulls away, Suguru grabs your leash yanking you up. Your collar pressing into your sore neck. Scrambling onto your knees, he pulls your back to his. You whine, “Imma dirty slut who loves her daddies cocks and balls.” He roughly slaps your clit then holds the toy to it.
Whining from the stinging pain and overwhelming pleasure. Jerking your hips back, involuntarily running away from the intensity. “Aww is it too much for your sore cunt? Poor little whore.” His mocking shouldn’t sound so sweet.
Satoru gets off the bed, the toys capturing his interest. Shifting through the dildos, you don’t know which one he picks. Suguru lines his cock up, slamming himself deep with one harsh thrust. Closing your eyes, bracing yourself for whatever pace he sets.
Suguru gets you on your back, laying on his chest. Your legs hooked over his forearms and his hands clasped behind his back. Pushing your head down, you can see Toji jerking off with a pussy sleeve.
Gliding it along his cock, staring your sloppy cunt split open by Suguru’s fat cock. “Don’t worry princess I’m going again after they’re done with ya.” You can’t respond when Suguru rocks his hips. Gliding his mind numbingly fat cock in your sloppy cunt. Sukuna’s and Toji’s cum trickling onto his balls with your slick.
Satoru climbs onto the bed with a thin, pulsing dildo. Spitting on its head, gliding his hand along it. “You can take it, let us fuck your beautiful cunt till our cocks won’t get hard again.” He glides the toy in alongside Suguru’s fat cock.
“Fuck! Fuck! Nnng it’s makin’ her cunt into a vibrating pussy sleeve!” Slowly fucking your aching, sensitive cunt. You can’t manage a single thought, don’t care to even try.
You can’t process what their saying. It’s as if something in you snaps. It doesn’t matter when you feel this good. “Nnn! Ahhh nnn!” Mindlessly moaning, Suguru’s fat cock is pressing the pulsing dildo to your sweet spot.
Curling your toes, trembling, pleading, “Please! Please!” Splaying your fingers on Satoru’s thick pecs when he leaned over you. Lining cock up, Suguru pauses for Satoru to glide his cock in.
You’re quivering from the intense burning pleasurable pain of your cunt stretching to take another cock. With a thin pulsing toy stuffed, “What is our slut begging for? Your stuffed full of all you need, cock and cum.” Whining, clawing Satoru’s chest when their heads hit your bruised cervix.
Tightly grabbing Suguru’s thick bicep, moaning when he flexes. Their cocks aren’t the only big their about them. Thick pecs, washboard arms and meaty arms, your trapped between. Taking their throbbing cocks. Your cunt seeming to vibrate around them with the toy stuffed in you.
Suguru groans, “She’s too cock drunk to do more than beg. Fuck that’s gonna make me bust. We fucked our dirty little slut dumb.” Timing their merciless thrusts, rubbing each other’s cock inside your pulsing, clenching cunt.
One head hitting your cervix after the other. Your getting off on the pleasurable painful feeling more with each stroke. “She’s so beautiful crying with not a thought behind her pretty eyes.” He grabs your leash, tugging on it despite Suguru holding your head. Forcing you to watch them double stuff your dripping cunt.
Suguru’s deep groans and Satoru’s breathy moans sound so sweet. He croons, “Does having your messy cum filled cunt ruined feel good?” Satoru presses the other vibrator to your clit, and your hips are bucking. Twisting away from their harsh, quick thrusts.
Thick warm cum squirts into Satoru’s abs and trickles onto Suguru’s balls. Loudly moaning, unable to form words. Your cunt spasming, toes curling, eyes rolling back. Satoru swirls the toy on your clit, fucking you harder.
Messing up his well-timed pace with Suguru, who ruts into you faster. “She’s shaking, sweet little whore. Let’s see how many times she can cum before her cunt breaks.” The force of their thrusts makes your stomach momentarily bulge. Showing how deep they are reaching.
Satoru glides his hand along your body, pushing on your stomach. Whining the pressure making you feel their thick, throbbing veiny cocks hitting your cervix better.
oreo cream-pie’s m.list
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pathologicalreid · 1 month ago
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falling flat | s.r.
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in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some
margovember
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.
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The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.
You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.
With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.
At this point, what choice did you have?
As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.
“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.
This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.
Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”
“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”
There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”
You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.
“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.
Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”
Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.
You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”
It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.
“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”
You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”
In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”
“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”
As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”
You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”
Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”
“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.
You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.
Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.
Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”
You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.
Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”
Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”
“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.
Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”
On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”
“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.
Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”
You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”
Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”
“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.
Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.
Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”
You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”
“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.
Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”
He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”
You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”
“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”
Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”
Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.
Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”
He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.
“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.
He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”
You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”
“You know where you’re going, right?”
“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”
He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.
You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”
He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 
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lostalioth · 2 months ago
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𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬
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→ premise: at the club where you danced it wasn’t unusual for you to have regulars, they were normally gross married men but there was one regular that stood out from the rest, your favorite. a grumpy ‘business’ man with a black metal arm.
→ pairing: mob!bucky barnes x dancer!fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, lap dance, choking, grinding/dry humping, nicknames [sweetness, sugar, princess], reader calls bucky mr. barnes & james, whore is used in a derogatory way once at reader, violent language used once, mention of a gun + description of it aimed at someone, mob!bucky but he’s described more as a ‘bussiness’ man sooo, and reader is described as dancing sexually for/on men.
→ a/n: kinktober 15
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You were Bucky's favorite.
Now he’d never visited many clubs like yours for anything other than business meetings. The men he was making deals with often picked the spots, he merely indulged their requests so they'd be more willing to fulfill his and do business with him. After a client requests they meet at your club ‘the spades’ however he finds himself coming far more often than just his everyday dealings. All for the pretty little dancer wearing black and gold on stage.
Bucky swears the moment he laid eyes on you, that you were made for him. He made an arrangement with the owner to allow him to do his work out of the club sometimes. Part of that deal included that everytime he came in, he’d request you. If you weren't working that day he told the other dancers not to bother him, he wanted you, only you. And when you were busy the owner tried offering him the services of another dancer for the time being. Bucky simply threw the combined money it was to pay for his session and pay for the gentlemen’s session you were with to end. “I want her, just her” he explained leaning back against the cushioned bench in a private room he often occupied paying the other dancer no mind as she huffed lightly and walked away.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, you had taken note of which days he’d come in to do business and started to request those days to work instead of your regular schedule. Happily indulging the mysterious man's request for you everytime. The other girls were often pissy at you for it, not understanding why he never requested any of them. He was a very attractive man, far more attractive than any of your usual grimy regulars that they had to deal with. He often tipped you far above the price for a dance session as well, slipping a few extra hundreds into your bra with a cocky smirk.
The cycle has been going on for around 4 almost 5 months now and as each week has passed you learnt more and more about him. First it was basic stuff like his age and his name even his birthday as he came to the club on the day for it.
“You’re the only birthday present I need sugar” his face holding that signature cocky smirk although under his usual deep sometimes sarcastic tone you could hear the sincerity. “Guess I’ve gotta treat ya’ extra special for tonight’s dance huh?” You smile in return trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat.
Then eventually you learned things like how he always was packing a piece everywhere he went, but you had never felt it before cause he takes it off before you come to him. You learned where he kept it when one drunk guy got too aggressive with you when you tried ending his session because Bucky had walked in. The guy was pulling you back to him with an extra hard grip on your arm.
“Uh- sir you're not allowed to grab the dancers..” you explain, a slight edge to your voice you were nervous. He was grumbling something about how you weren't done and if he was gonna pay that much for a whore to dance then she should at least finish. You couldn't tell as it was all coming out a gargled slurred mess. Bucky had come over to break it up, or well break it up his way. Pulling his gun out on the guy, pointing it towards his head as he rested a hand on your lower back. “If you don‘t let go of her in the next few seconds, your brains are gonna be splattered across the stage and that dancer's feet up there. Do we understand each other?” He explained in an oddly calm tone, everybody else in the club was frozen, even the owner and the guards, they all knew not to mess with Bucky. Safe to say the man let go and hadn’t come back to your club after that. And you tried your hardest not to let bucky feel the fact your core was soaking wet as you danced on him after that altercation. He could very much tell, it was hard not to and it sent an ache straight to his cock, he loved that him protecting you and threatening the man got you all riled up.
✦ .  ⁺   . ♤ .  ⁺   . ✦
You were currently dancing up on the long runway stage that ran down the middle of the club, sexy slow music that was playing filled the room alongside drunk men hooting and hollering at you. As you bent over at the waist rolling your hips and showing off your plump ass to the crowd earning you even louder wolf whistles you notice Bucky walk in. The end of the stage facing the front door, you smile lightly. You tried to push it down but an odd happiness always filled your body when he came in, maybe it was just because he was more entertaining than any of your other regulars or the fact he was sweet on you. You didn't know what it was but you’d much rather entertain him than the hammered bachelor party that was sitting as close as they could be to the stage.
Snapping back up facing away from the group of men you walk back up the stage with a sway in your hips making your way off it. Bucky secretly loved it every time you’d leave what you were doing to come to him, he was your priority the second he’d walk in and you made the other customers know it. Grabbing a hold of his hand you drag him along behind you still swaying your hips softly in rhythm with the music.
Bucky never let anyone tell him what to do ever, let alone drag him anywhere but he swears you hypnotize him with your hips rocking side to side. If you asked him to in that sweet tone of yours while batting your eyelashes at him he’d kill someone, anyone in a heartbeat. You barely even have to drag him along as you make your way towards the private room he always used, using your grip however to pull him in the room, closing the curtain and placing him down on the velvet cushioned seat.
“Always know just what I want the second I walk in huh sweetness?” He coos, his eyes roaming your body as you sway around in front him giving him a whole 360 view of your skimpy outfit. You were wearing black and gold again, you wore the combination of colors more often once you noticed the fact it matched his metal prosthetic as well as when he told you they were his favorite colors on you.
“Of course Mr. Barnes” you smile at him, slowly making your way closer resting your mancuried hands down on his thighs running them up painfully slow. “I told you that ya’ can call me James, princess” he tsks and slightly shakes his head as his body relaxes under your touch. Bending over you lean in closer, your face inches away from his, his whiskey and cool mint breath wafting through your nose and your addictive perfume filling Buckys. “Okay Jamesss..” you drag out his name giving it an emphasis that makes his cock ache as it falls past your lips and his breath hitch in his throat. You smirk and spin your body around to continue dancing and rub your ass lightly over his thighs as your hands grip onto them. Slowly you snap back up to stand straight in front of him, your body between his now spread out thighs. Running your hands along your body as you dance, down your sides and over your ass as your hips move and whine. His hands brush over your hips and up your sides as you dance on his lap, even brushing over yours, goosebumps rising on your skin under his touch.
Swaying and spinning around again before you get too lost in his touch, making him drop his hands you turn to face him as you make your way closer again. Placing your knee down besides his large body you push your weight up and put your other knee down on the other side of him so your body is hovering over his lap. Leaning against the back of the bench he smirks as your hips gyrate and sway over his lap. Needing to feel your body and your skin under his hands again he grabs ahold of your waist pushing you down further onto his lap. “Might as well sit where ya’ belong sugar” he chuckles lightly, his hands not letting go of your hips as you keep on dancing on his lap. Hips grinding and body moving in tune to the music yet you were practically dry humping him now. Your hands push at his chest as you continue dancing, trying your hardest to not think about how good it feels to be almost grinding your cunt against his cock.
This isn't how you were meant to be dancing on him, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be touching you as much as he was and yet from the moment he shook hands with the owner and made that deal those rules never applied to him. His right hand slowly drifts up your side over your chest and up towards your neck. Your eyes are locked with his as he wraps his fingers around your neck. You have to bite your lip to stop a whine slipping out, his grip not hard yet tight enough that you lose a bit of oxygen and your head starts to spin.
His jeans thighten as his cock throbs in his denim prison, “Fuck princess, wish we had far more privacy than this stupid curtain” he growls out. Your hips grind down harder against him in response, your core aching for pleasure now as your eyes screw shut. Bucky lets go of your neck only to grab ahold of your chin pulling your face down close to his. You’ve come to know that when he grabs your face he wants you to pay attention, pulling you closer almost like it's a secret. You open your eyes, your pupils so big there's barely a ring of their beautiful color left around them as you look at him. He smirks, dropping his voice to a whisper. “How much for you to just quit this dumb club and be my little personal dancer huh sweetness?” He asks, a cocky yet serious tone in his voice.
“What…?” You whisper in response, a bit fuzzy on what he was asking. “Quit and come live with me, be my personal dancer, ya’ practically already are princess” he explains further, your hips have not exactly stopped their grinding which only makes his smirk grow bigger. “i cant- i can't quit i need this job for the money” you stutter out yet you knew deep down he didn't really have to even offer you a penny and you’d be giving your two weeks notice and walking out that front door with him but you had to try your best to stand your ground.
“I’ll give you triple whatever the largest amount that you’ve made was sugar, just want ya’ all to myself..” the last part of his statement comes out in a whisper that you don’t know if you were meant to hear or not. A sweet smile spreads on your face as your hands run down his chest landing on his hips as you push yourself up, counting to dance on his lap.
“Then i do believe we have a deal Mr. Barnes”
He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and tilts his head, waiting on you to correct yourself.
“Jameesss” you coo in correction, affection almost dripping from your voice, giggling softly when his hand falls back around your throat and his grip tightens back up. A sound that makes Bucky's head spin and a matching smile form on his face.
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→ a/n: i had so many thoughts for mob!bucky x dancer/stripper!reader’s dymanic that i got a bit carried away and i also wanna write for them again. also this wasn’t proofread
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