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blkkizzat · 4 months

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❝DIGIMON—BUT MAKING U CUM IS MY REAL HOBBY!❞

⏯ OTAKU!GOJO X BIMBO!READER

⏭ summary: your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? college au.

⏭ cw: virgin!satoru, gentle sex then rough sex , spanking (ass & pussy), slight sugar daddy/baby dynamic, coercion, dubcon, ecchi/pervy/freak nasty satoru, apprehensive bimbo!reader scared to nut, reader is also a bit of a tsundere brat but this isn't brat taming per se, oral fixation, toe licking, riding, prone bone, missionary, pussy eating, deep-throating, forced gagging, fingering, squirting, edging, olfactophilia, hand-job, protected & unprotected sex, bdsm references, masturbation, bit of somnophilia, pet names: Bunny (reader is called that in lieu of y/n), suggestions of geto x reader, mentions of satosugu and shokohime.

⏭ a/n: in my crack smut bag again cause this white haired demon wont let me rest until i write this nasty shit. fr tho this fic 13.3k and literally 10k of it is Gojo fucking you six ways to sunday. fyi this is the same y/n from nerd!geto but this is a different version of that AU where suguru is the one who has rizz and satoru is the nerd. y'all better read this or i'll never write gojo again istg lmfao. also shoutout to @halosdiary for beta reading and telling me it was good enough to post lol.

“FUCK YEAH, LET’S GO!!! I ALONE AM THE CHAMPION OF THE DIGITAL WORLD!!!”

Startled by Gojo’s sudden outburst—you nearly rolled off the bed.

Thankfully Suguru is sitting next to you and caught you before you fell off completely.

Fully energized by his win Gojo sprang up from his elaborate PC setup, bouncing around the room in celebration. Fist-pumping the air he couldn’t contain his excitement after winning the Tokyo Regional Qualifiers for the Digimon Online TCG.

“Guys, hey guys! See! I told you I’d win! I’m the strongest! The digidestined!”

You and Suguru exchanged exasperated glances before side-eyeing the hell out of Gojo.

This went on for a good 10 minutes so you had since returned to mindlessly scrolling TikTok, not wanting to encourage your grown-ass-almost-22-years-old-best-friend’s excitement over a children’s game.

“You sure showed those middle schoolers, Toru.”

Suguru quips with a smile. He’s clearly being sarcastic but Gojo is unfazed—nothing could damper his mood.

“Damn straight I did!”

Both you and Suguru have to chuckle, rolling your eyes at his childish enthusiasm.

Despite the shared sentiment of annoyance over your best friend’s hobbies, you both were just happy to have Gojo back again. Two long years had passed since his parents made him travel the world on a rotation program, tasked with visiting the various Six-Vision Industries offices he would one day inherit.

Being the nerdy genius he was, Gojo stacked a mass of university level credits in high school. So even with missing the first two years of college he’d still be joining you as a third year at your university come fall.

After being apart for so long it was refreshing to hang out again and kicking it at Gojo’s mansion had been a daily occurrence since the start of the summer. Although things had definitely changed in the two years Gojo had been away there was one thing that certainly hadn’t.

Gojo was still a fucking huge otaku nerd.

You’d thought his time spent in the business world would have matured him. However, being abroad, away from his friends and spending all day around the ‘stinky old fogeys in suits’ as he called them, only made him retreat further into otakudom.

That much was evident as his collection of posters, figures and manga had somehow only seemed to grow even with him away.

“Alright, while I just would love to stick around and hear more about you destroying the dreams of 12 year olds Toru—beach girl just texted me, gotta bounce!”

Suguru tries to leave but Toru clings onto him practically spider monkeying himself onto his back in an effort to get him to stay.

“Sugu! Don’t leave! We’ve already been apart from each other for too long~~”

Sighing, Suguru attempts to pry his incorrigible bestie off of him.

“Satoru, you just spent the last 5 hours playing Digimon acting like me and Bunny weren’t even here. I’m sure if you go back to playing you won't even miss me.”

Gojo continues to pout as he whines for Suguru to stay.

“But I miss you already Sugu!”

Gojo presses his cheek against Suguru’s as Suguru’s eyebrow begins to twitch.

“I know! Invite your date here! Our chef is 10 times better than any restaurant you’d go to and you know we have an infinity pool grotto and onsen!

While the offer was tempting as any potential date would be thoroughly wowed by the decadent splendor that was the Gojo Family Residence—Suguru would also thoroughly cuck himself once his date was given the grand tour.

Particularly the stop which included Gojo’s anime figure and otaku memorabilia rooms.

While a good number of them were harmlessly nerdy shonen or slightly ecchi isekai figures—the rest? Well the rest contained every kind of freak nasty hentai figure you could think of—shibari, futanari and even the classic La Blue Girl tentacle dioramas—it was like a horny museum.

Although at this point it should be considered a horny mausoleum as no woman who walked in would be walking out still in the mood—it was surely a place where horny went to die.

“Uh yeah, sure next time Toru….”

Suguru reaches back to pat Gojo on the head reassuringly.

Lying as he was more than certain there wouldn’t be a next time. There wasn’t even going to be dinner—this was purely a hookup situation.

“...but she’s already waiting for me outside my place—gotta run!”

Realizing Gojo still wasn’t letting go, Suguru sighs realizing this would require him utilizing his Judo training.

In one swift movement, Suguru manages to shoulder-wheel Gojo and toss him onto the other side of his massive bed. The bed rebounds as he lands, slightly lifting you off your belly but you still are more interested in your phone.

This isn’t the first time Suguru has Judo thrown Gojo off of him (likely wouldn’t be the last either).

Saying quick goodbyes before Gojo could recover, Suguru manages to slip away.

“Traitor!!! So much for bros before hoes!”

Utterly dejected, Gojo crawls up next to you on his massive bed.

“At least I still have you here Bunny.”

“Uh, not to pile on but you know I’m only here until Shoko and Utahime text me they are ready to go to the mall, right? I’m in dire need of a new handbag!”

Now clinging on to you Gojo throws another small tantrum as the weight of half his sinewy body presses into your back, his lean muscular arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Not you too, Bunny puhleeease!”

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers so it wasn’t odd for you, him or Suguru to be found giving the others platonic cuddles like this—often all together too. The both of them were always so much bigger than you so you often enjoyed the comfort and security of always being the filling in the cuddle sandwich.

Gojo rests his chin on your shoulder watching as you continue scrolling TikTok. You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before his irritatingly hyperactive nature gets the best of him, and he starts poking around your phone to click on other videos that weren’t the 'mystery and makeup' ones you were watching.

“Toru, you know you could get a lot of your own hoes to hang out with if you weren’t such a huge otaku nerd…”

You had to swat Gojo’s hand away again as he tries to click on another prank video and he rolls off of you with a frustrated sigh.

“...you’re almost as good looking as Suguru…”

Muttering the last part of that under your breath. Arguably Gojo’s features were just as if not more striking than Suguru’s.

He was too hot himself for all of it to go to waste for being such a big dork.

“I’m sure Sugu would be happy to teach you ‘the way of the fuckboy’ if you asked Toru—that is if you’d actually go out clubbing like a normal 21 year old.”

“Why would I do that though? My house is 100 times better than a club!”

Touché.

While no one in your friend group was what someone would consider poor, Gojo’s wealth paled in comparison to anyone else’s and that went without saying. He’d had everything—if not more—than even the nicest tokyo club had. This was all thanks to his parents as socialites in their own right, often entertaining businessmen, dignitaries or foreign representatives with their ultra-exclusive parties.

“Besides, it wouldn't work—”

Gojo continued to pout.

“—Suguru would just get all the hoes anyway.”

Easily able to walk up to even the most standoffish looking women, Suguru would have them reduced to bashful school girls in under 5 minutes. The women were always willing to hand over their numbers or drop any immediate plans to hang out with Suguru instead.

A good number of them had boyfriends already too.

Yet despite having the looks, Gojo opening his mouth ruined any advantage his lustrous blue eyes, exotic snow white hair and sharp handsome features gave him.

“Well, Suguru has a normal 21 year old’s room for starters, Toru. Not full of nerdy ass anime posters and Digimon tournament trophies.”

Gojo goes quiet.

Driven from an early age to fill his head with knowledge of politics, technology, and international business relations, he spent the precious free time he did get with his friends or consumed by his own interests. Interests which just happened to be a bunch of otaku shit—Digimon in particular.

It was an escape he’d cherished as a child and that didn’t change growing into adulthood either, if anything he needed it more now.

When Gojo doesn’t answer you look over to see him actually sulking for real now—face buried in a giant Agumon pillow plushie.

What a crybaby.

But the crybaby was one of your besties so you decided to lighten the mood and tease him a little.

“Ya know Toruuuu….you could just fuck Sugu then. Don’t think I haven’t seen y’all get a lil’ handsy during our cuddles!”

You give him a playful smirk and mime grabby hands at him.

“Oh and you haven’t? Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck Suguru either!”

No longer appearing mopey, Gojo is up and laughing again. Mission Accomplished.

“Hey! I never said I wouldn’t but this isn’t about me, this is about you finally getting some play!”

You snap back but you’re blushing.

Like damn, who hadn’t thought about fucking Suguru though?

“It's not the same if he makes me bottom! Plus no one thinks I can get pussy!”

Gojo grumbles, hugging his Agumon plushie to his cheek.

You can’t help but notice how cute and baby girl he looks all pouty.

He’d definitely get women lining up around the block of his huge ass mansion if he could at least get to the dating phase without giving out the otaku ick.

“Because you can’t Gojo—Hoes don’t want to fuck guys who play Digimon!”

“But you’re a hoe and you like digimon too!”

Turning to look at him, you’d had half a mind to slap the shit out of Satoru but he had said it so earnestly. There was no sass nor malice behind his words.

Besides, you were a hoe. That wasn’t something you ever denied.

You sigh.

“Yeah I am a hoe now and I—keyword—liked Digimon. But that was back when I was a kid, Toru!”

Gojo scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Listen, you’re my friend so m’gonna keep it a buck with you—a guy concerned with being digidestined is definitely not pussy destined, you digidork!”

You playfully hit him with the pillow you were laying on, not wanting him to start sulking again.

Finally stimulated by something interesting Gojo wastes no time joining the pillow fight you initiated and you tussle with him on the bed until you both are exhausted and out of breath.

Of course you come out of it victorious though. By the end you’d pinned both the pillows and Toru under you.

Gojo however is back to pouting.

“Ugh, Bunny seriously though—I can’t go into junior year of college as a virgin!”

You smirk at his complaints as the answer is obvious.

“Throw away your figures and digimon cards then.”

“I’d rather die.”

“A virgin? At this rate you will.”

Gojo huffs in defeat as you settle comfortably on top of him this time.

You’re about to reach for your phone again until you see a curious look flash across his face—the kind of look he always had as a kid when he thought of a hair-brain scheme that would lead to getting you all in trouble.

“Toru—what is it? And why do I have the feeling m’not gonna like it?”

You pull away cautiously, but his large hands grip your waist, stopping you and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Hm, I dunno—was just thinkin’... why don’t you fuck me, Bunny?”

Your deadpan expression has Gojo scrambling, holding you closer in a vice grip when you try to squirm away.

“Hey! Wait, I’m serious! Come on, Bunny! I need the experience and you always tell us about all your hookups! You have the experience—help a guy out!”

Staring at him skeptically you considered.

I mean sure, you always thought Gojo was attractive, more so since he returned this summer nearly a half a foot taller—but he was Gojo Satoru.

Your dorky, goofy, pervy otaku bestie practically since birth!

You couldn’t just go and fuck him could you?

God, you could only imagine the taunts you’d get if word got out. Your friend group would never let you live it down!

“Nah Toru—that would be too weird!”

“Huh, how come? You said I was almost as attractive as Suguru earlier!”

You stiffen.

Fuck, he’d heard that after all.

“Ooo, ooo! Annnnd, you said last week you wanted a sugar daddy… Well, hi! I’m right here!”

The huge grin on his face has you frowning although more so because he was actually making some sense for once. I mean you were half-joking when you said it—well, let’s be honest not really.

However, you mostly said it because while your family was well off enough, you still weren’t living in the lap of luxury by any means like a Gojo clan member. Unfortunately for you though, you were born with the expensive tastes of someone who was. So while you could afford a cute Chanel bag or a MCM wallet here or there, you’d set your sights on something higher—a coveted Hermes Birkin.

Toru certainly could afford to buy you a whole truck load of them with what his family made in less than an hour.

Nevertheless that wasn’t really the issue at hand.

In spite of you being far from a virgin, there was actually a good reason why you wouldn’t be a good choice for Gojo to lose his v-card.

“Er, em—that’s really not the issue, Toru…”

Trailing off you’re the one pouting now as you glance at your nails.

“Then what? Don’t tell me our lil’ Bun Bun is shy now? Over lil’ ol’ me?”

Gojo teases you by sticking out his tongue—chuckling when you snap your head up to glare at him.

“You wish…”

You grumble, chewing your lip now and debating whether or not to tell him the truth while Gojo looks at you with wide and glassy puppy eyes. Shaking your head you come to the conclusion you could trust him with your secret.

He was the virgin otaku after all—he’s the one who should be embarrassed here!

“It’s just that…I–I can’t cum.”

Gojo just blinks at you.

Clearly confused with metaphorical question marks surrounding his head as that's definitely not the answer he was expecting.

“I’ve slept with plenty of guys before but I never had an orgasm. I don't even really get close—I mean, sure, it feels good, I guess—mostly just a little weird. I heard some people just can’t and maybe that's me.”

You shrug, a bit nervous to look Gojo in the eye as you thought he may tease you further about this but was lost in contemplation. Almost as if he was seriously trying to do the biological math around what you’d just told him.

After about a minute more he finally asks—

“—Does Suguru know?”

A simple question, unloaded in tone as Gojo is genuinely curious but it leaves you flustered nonetheless.

“What?! Are you crazy?! Why would I tell him?!”

“Just figured if anyone could then—”

“—Hell no, Toru! Besides, what if he does? I’m not trying to be reduced to a fuckboy’s pick me if he ends up being the only man alive who can give me an orgasm!”

Sure Suguru was hot as fuck—as was a lot of your other fuckboy friends (Toji and Sukuna)—but you definitely didn’t want to end up like the dickmatized girls that would follow them around and literally box each other in the streets over some cock.

You weren’t much of a fighter anyway and your face was far too cute to be getting scratched up.

Pussy should be put on a pedestal, not the other way around. You’d continue to be orgasmless before it came to that.

“Mm, but Shoko and Utahime know?”

You’re blushing more than ever this time.

“Um, yeah—T-They said once I realized all men were worthless to call them and they’d give me multiple of them.”

Gojo snorted at that but he was now convinced you both could help each other.

“So we have no other options—then it's settled!”

In one fluid motion Gojo snatches away the pillows from between you and swaps positions—now with you on the bottom.

“Huh–wait—Toru!?”

Gojo groans.

“Come on, Bunny! I want pussy, you want to cum on top of getting that Bikram bag—

“—Birkin bag.”

You corrected him.

“Yeah that one! So let’s help each other out, eh? PULHEEEASEEE—Just the tip?”

You weren’t at all convinced that Gojo—whose sexual knowledge came purely from JAV, hentai and onaholes—could make you cum.

But then again sure, fuck it, why not?

You were getting bored waiting for Shoko to call you anyway and if Toru was willing to come off a Birkin for a lil’ pussy, you might as well fuck him.

None of the other guys you had fucked even came close to making sex this worth it. Frankly this would be worth it even if you didn’t actually cum.

“Fiiiine Toru, let’s have sex—”

“FUCK YEAH!”

“—BUT we’re laying down some ground rules!”

Sitting up with a straight back, Gojo obediently awaited your orders.

“Anything you want Bunny, name 'em go’on!”

Gojo’s overenthusiasm was like a puppy and you were sure if he had a tail it would be thumping on the bed like crazy now.

You wanted to crack a smile but you know from prior experience that if you give men an inch they will take the whole goddamn mile—and Gojo of all people was no exception—so you are firm as you sit up to look in his eyes and lay down the law.

“First—like you said, just the tip.”

Gojo started to protest but the raise of your eyebrows had him changing his tune immediately.

“Got it! Got it! Just the tip would be amazing Bunny, what else?”

He chided himself and you continued.

“And secondly, just because you bros have no loyalty, it’s still ‘chicks before dicks’ over here. You better get your nut quick cause I’m still leaving to go purse shopping when Shoko and Utahime call me.”

Gojo waves you off with that rule.

“Psh, we should have plenty of time, it's almost 6pm! They’ve probably been too busy bumping their own purses together to go shopping with you for one. You haven’t heard from either of them in hours!”

Fair point—wildly out of pocket, but fair.

Still.

“Bumping Purses!? Really, Toru?”

“You know I’m not lying—but that’s it then, right Bunny?”

Not waiting, Gojo throws his shirt off and starts fumbling with the ties on his sweats before you stop him.

“Nah, Toru, hold your horses! One more rule!”

Freezing mid-action, Gojo's hands are shaking as he expectantly gazes at you, waiting for the last condition before you give him the green light.

“Finally, third—and most fucking importanly—if you make any, and I mean even just ONE—otaku reference, especially Digimon while you’re inside me I’ll snap your lil’ digidick off, understood?”

Gojo swallowed.

Hard terms to live with but something he would be willing to abide by for pussy.

“Yes ma’am! Got it! Just the tip, you will ditch me for the purse bumpers and no Digimon!”

Gojo repeats your rules matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes but are satisfied enough he understood and you wave him off in the direction of your bag.

“Good. Now, be a good boy and go get a rubber out of my purse.”

Bolting over to your purse Gojo grabs a pack of condoms and is back on the bed in an instant.

Reality sinking in on what you were about to do and who you were about to do it with, you suddenly become hyper aware, appraising Gojo.

You note just how much in the two years since high school he’s grown. Still a bit lanky in areas but overall he filled out more for sure and his muscles were much more defined rippling underneath his skin as he eagerly clambered over you. Gojo still possessed the same piercing sky blue eyes that lit up a room but they looked all too predatorily hungry now that he was hovering over you.

You swallow.

You’d feel almost completely out of control of the situation if it wasn’t also for the bundle of nervous energy radiating off of Gojo—his hands spasming like he might bust his pants the moment he touches you.

You try to maintain your composure, but your jaw drops and your eyes widen in shock when he finally pushes his sweats and boxers down in one swift motion.

Gojo was fucking huge!

“Toru—what the actual fuck?!”

Third leg was a massive understatement.

I mean you didn’t think he’d be small—you’d been around him enough in boxers, sweats, pjs, etc growing up—but you didn’t expect this.

He was definitely a grower and Christ did he just fucking grow!

Gojo looked puzzled until he followed your wide eyed gawking down to his lower half.

Heh.

“Am I the biggest you’ve seen, Bunny?”

Growing prideful Gojo pokes at you a bit and your ogling only grows more incredulous.

You didn't know if he was the girthiest but certainly the longest by far. He’d actually puncture a lung if he stuck that whole monstrous thing in you!

It would literally have to be just the tip and you are thanking God right now that he’d already agreed to those terms. That would be much too uncomfortable to cum from and you are beginning to question how the pornstars manage. This wasn’t a JAV but Gojo, if his company ever went belly up, certainly had a promising career on OnlyFans ahead of him.

Gojo’s chest puffed up ten times more from your staring as he slipped the condom on (which only fit two-thirds of the way down).

“O-Ok, Bunny now you!”

His cock throbbed more violently the longer you looked at him. The anticipation is contagious to say the least and you can't help but feel your chest warm at his eagerness.

Gojo wants to get the attention off of him and you smile at him knowingly.

“You mean you don’t want to take my clothes off yourself?”

The thought never occurred to Gojo but he dumbly nodded. Your yelps echo in the room as his massive hands are on your hips faster than lighting pulling you towards him.

The motion causes your tits to jiggle, the soft mounds moving freely beneath your spaghetti strapped halter and Gojo berates himself on how he only now is noticing you weren’t wearing a bra all this time.

Gojo’s mouth goes dry at your nipples, already peaked and poking through the thin fabric.

Your nipples pucker further when the crisp air of the A/C hits them after Gojo pulls your top overhead and you arch up to assist, not realizing you presented yourself to him like a treat to a dog.

“T-Toru!!!!”

Gojo wraps his strong sturdy arms fully around your body. Pressing his face deep into your chest as his warm wet lips latch onto a nipple. His mouth now suctioned to you, Gojo swirls and flicks his tongue around the hardened bud. Gojo moans around your flesh, pleasantly surprised at how addicting the sweet salty taste of your skin is.

If Gojo wasn’t sure he had an oral fixation before he surely knows now. Zoning out everything else except for the sloppy sounds of him worshiping your breast, he relishes the contrasting textures of his rough tongue suckling the soft skin of your swelling bud.

Gojo surely would have been latched onto you for hours and you are only able to pry his head away when he releases your nipple with a wet pop to take a breath.

“TORU!!!”

You’re panting and red faced as you yank his head back.

But Gojo is a man solely focused—tongue hanging out off his mouth captivated by how cutely your areola puffed as it glistened with his spit and fighting overwhelming desire to get the other one in a similar state.

“Huh–Bunny, b-baby—you taste so good n’ your tiddies are so nice—so fuh-kin’ soft.”

Gojo’s tongue is hanging out of his mouth drooling as he attempts to dive back into your chest. you feel his heavy cock on your thigh as his hips begin to rut against you.

This was too much!

“Stop Toru! You’re being too rough, they are sensitive! Besides, times’ ticking! Remember I have no problem leaving you blue balled if Shoko or Utahime call me!”

You do your best to give him a disapproving look as you blush.

“Awe but you seemed like you were liking it, you were whining loud enough.”

“Shut up n’just get on with it!”

“Yes ma’am~~”

Enjoying your breasts so much Gojo almost forgot he hadn’t even seen your pretty pussy yet.

Making quick work of your shorts, Gojo manages to pull them down just over your core but is stunned once again as he burns the image of the skin-melding fabric of the mesh hot pink g-string covering your cunt. The thin satiny straps dug into your supple hips amplifying your curvaceous form.

Fucking slutty as hell!

Rivaling that of even his most favorite and most scandalous hentai figures.

This was so much better, so much more lewd as the clingy fabric struggles to cover the fat of your plump pussy lips—not like the transparency of them left much to the imagination.

God help him, he just wants to tear them off with his teeth and open mouth swan-dive into your dewy lil’cunt—-pushing his tongue deep into your peachy core tongue fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you until he drowned in your milky nectar—but he has to restrain himself.

You probably wouldn’t like that too much given your reaction earlier and he’d die if you’d happen to just call the whole thing off.

Mouth drying and hands twitching—Gojo is trying so hard to be a good boy and contain his more perverted instincts.

“Earth to Toru! Y-You good?”

Gojo looked like a tightly wound coil ready to pop in every sense of the word and you hated that his nervousness was making you nervous too.

So on edge you almost jumped once his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“G-Great, Bunny…j-just fine.”

Gojo’s voice falters, becoming more pitchy and you giggle. As much as Gojo wants to look at your pussy as he peels the flimsy moist fabric off of them he couldn’t do that at this moment—he would actually bust his pants.

Instead, Gojo leans in to kiss you, but you block him. He ends up kissing your palm instead.

“Toruuu… that be too weird, we’re friends remember?”

“Yeah friends who are fucking, Bunny! You mean you won’t let my tongue in your mouth but you’re letting my dick inside your pussy?!”

You knew it sounded nonsensical even before he said it back to you. But your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could barely hear him anyway.

You didn’t know what you were scared of this time?

You had let all your other previous hookups makeout with you but Gojo was different.

This felt entirely different.

You didn’t know why, you just knew it was and you were apprehensive of the unfamiliar emotions he was stirring in you and this wasn’t supposed to be anything more than an arrangement between friends.

“Don’t you need to warm up tho Bunny? Obviously m’no pro at this—but even I know a little bit more foreplay is usually needed?”

Your heart beats louder at his concern but you push that aside trying to focus on your breaths.

Satoru should have been the easiest lay but for a reason that alludes—you were coming undone before him.

“Shut up Toru and just fuck me! The foreplay stuff doesn't matter, it won't make a difference anyway, m’not gonna cum! Also you’re big af so grab your lube. We're gonna need lots of it!”

Toru pouts but follows your commands without fuss.

Although he’s anxious to get his dick wet he also is still thinking of how he can hold up his end of the bargain other than a stupid purse.

You said he didn’t need to but he wanted to.

The thought of finally losing his v-card excited him but there was something that made his cock throb harder at being the first man to give you an orgasm.

But you don’t want him to touch you beyond what was absolutely necessary, so how was he going to accomplish that exactly?

Gojo was a genius and had the IQ score to prove it, he’d be able to solve the problem once he was inside you, right?

Turning back to face you after retrieving the lube from his nightstand, Toru has to grab the base of his cock this time to keep from prematurely coming in the latex that was already starting to thicken with his precum.

There you were laid out like a slut—panties pulled to the side—fingering yourself a bit to loosen up, having reconsidered his suggestion of foreplay when the twitching on your thigh reminded you of how big he actually was.

“OH SHI—”

You notice his jaw hanging open, utterly entranced as his eyes follow the motions.

You knew you should be letting him do this to get the experience but honestly there was no sense in setting Gojo up for failure—delivering a significant blow to his ego when he inevitably couldn’t make you cum. You didn’t want to damage him even more if he felt it was his fault your pussy was apparently broken, you having tensed up completely every time a guy had tried before.

But you can’t deny you are getting some pleasure—if only through your own amusement—as you grab his cock and pump the lube he poured down his latex covered shaft, still fingering yourself—much to Gojo’s delight and wonder of seeing an actual real pussy up close.

Gojo sucks in air and groans pitifully as your hand spreads the cool gel over his length which only intensifies his ache to be inside of you.

“C’mere, Toru…”

You beckon sweetly, guiding him forward with your back against the pillows, you tease the crown of his tip through your folds preparing him for missionary.

Gojo nearly bites a chunk out of his lip when his thick cockhead finally catches over your slicked entrance and you’re left wincing.

“T-Toru, e-easy—o-ok? Not too deep...”

A breathy confirmation shudders out of Gojo as he’s easing himself into your warm tightening cunt. The stretch is immediate which mentally confirms for you he is also the girthiest you’ve ever had as well.

Your heels dig into his hips to brace yourself while he hovers over you, arms shaking.

“FUUUUUHHHH—”

Even with the rubber on, Gojo still thinks he might melt from how warm and tight you are—so much better than even his onahole with the custom grip and heating features.

Screwing his eyes shut, Gojo has to count backwards from a million, recite Japan’s national anthem, list the GDPs of the top 10 wealthiest countries—anything—or he will cum too soon or worse, crack and drive his hips until he’s all the way to the hilt from the way your dangerous lil’ pussy is sucking him in.

God, it felt like your slutty cunt had a mind of its own calling for him to push in a lil’ deeper, greedily begging for him to go a lil’ further but Gojo resists.

Sweat beads on his brow from the exerted effort of sheer willpower to keep his promise to you.

To Gojo’s credit, he really is doing his best, only a little less than a third but due to his length that's still a lot.

Your eyes wander up to Gojo’s face and away from where he is wholly splitting you open, lest you clench on him even tighter and you knew you needed to relax. Even if you weren't really feeling much but the overwhelming strain from the tight fit, looking at Gojo you were happy that he appeared to be in bliss at least.

His eyes still squeezed shut, mouth hanging open and spittle flowing down his jaw Gojo was in his own world as he continuously babbled nonsense about how perfect your cunt felt around him.

Just the tip in you for all of 20 seconds and already pussy drunk from just this much.

“B-Bunny, Oh SHHIII–B-Bunny—m’cute Bun—FAH-ACK s’gud—m’gonna cum soon UHH–pussy feels s’good—oh-oh my god!”

Although his entire body is quaking with pleasure, the few functional brain cells that survived the fiery blaze of your sinful lil’ pussy are still thinking of you.

Gojo tries to give some attention to your neglected lil’ clit, but a single swipe causes your leg to jerk and you promptly push his hand away again.

“N-NO! Pleaseee, m’too sensitive Toru! J-Just focus on your thrusts! Y-You’re s’close, m’can feel your cock twitching i-i-inside me...”

Gojo wants to challenge you on this—suspecting from the way your cunt felt constricting around him you felt something pleasurable then—but he’s too far gone and much too inexperienced to keep focused on anything else.

Especially when you are so explicitly describing him fucking you.

Grabbing his face you bring your foreheads to touch to help calm him so he’d last a bit longer. Although you still hold his face to prevent him from kissing you, he's close enough that you're sharing the same breath, now looking into each other's eyes.

He struggles to maintain eye contact though before the magnetism of your heated core had them rolling back again.

You're still not close to cumming, yet you are beginning to enjoy the warm comforting feeling of being this full as he holds you close, his short thrusts gaining momentum.

Sharing intimacy with someone you actually cared about for once is really nice and you wouldn't mind having more sex like this even if you couldn't cum.

Thumbing over Gojo’s moist lips you coo sweet praises to him as he desperately moans around your delicate appendage. Suckling your thumb between his lips and nursing on it until he can no longer contain the heavy breaths that overpower him and fan across your face.

Sharing the same exhaled breath is making you light headed and you mewl at the keen sensations it stirs in your pussy that has him full on gasping now. Gojo releases the whiniest moan as he falls into you, unable to support his arms any longer.

Showering your neck with open mouth kisses as his body curls more into yours.

However it all proves far too much when Gojo faltering more in his promise, slips more than halfway into your cunt—instantly filling the latex as it balloons inside of you as you scrape your heels against his back.

SHIIIIIT! He s’big!

Despite nearly splitting your poor pussy into two at the end though, Gojo did such a good job for his first time.

You’d forgive him just this once though as you wrapped your arms around his head, gently petting his undercut. His heaving breaths quiet under your soothing touches, finally ceasing the stream of his spit and tears that had been pooling in your collarbone.

Staying like that for a while holding him while his heartbeat calms to match yours and his length softens inside you. You close your eyes peacefully for a few moments before you hear your phone vibrate next to you.

It's Shoko!

Shoko’s text apologizes for the delays and offers to get dinner instead—promising to go shopping with you and Utahime tomorrow since they got held up and you make plans for dinner in two hours.

Perfect. That gives you plenty of time to clean up and get yourself presentable.

“Did you cum even a lil bit, Bunny?”

Oh sweet baby, if you have to ask…You think to yourself but it's not poor Toru’s fault your pussy is out of order.

“Um, no Toru baby—but you did so well! Ya know you’re actually pretty cute and considerate when you get a little pussy. I’m sure you’ll manage to make any girl you happen to get naked happy!”

Gojo counters you with a disappointed look still panting slightly as he pulls out and rolls over bringing you towards him to cuddle. Allowing him, reasoning that you don’t have to get up right this second.

Yoour back meets his chest and it’s then you notice the condom still inside you. Figures since it was much too small in the first place. Yet you couldn’t complain as it managed to do its job due to Satoru not going all the way in. Breathing out you grimace a bit as you still had to give it a pretty good tug to lodge the filled latex out of your sore cunt.

“Goddamn Toru, you were pretty backed up huh?”

Having witnessed the entire display from over your shoulder and the sight of the light blue rubber covered in your fluids while drooping heavily with his own has Gojo’s dick stirring again as you jiggle the rubber demonstrating its fullness before tossing it into the bin beside his bed.

Conflicted Gojo broods for a while as he hugs you to him.

While his body felt mostly satisfied, seeing you still unsatisfied put a huge damper on his mood.

Sure you had told him you couldn’t come—but would any girl cum without much foreplay or stimulation?

Even the darker hentais and JAVs he’s seen had more foreplay than this!

Hmmm...

Thinking over the experience again in his mind he had a hunch that if right could cure your lack of orgasms but needed you to let him fuck you once more to be sure.

“So you’re gonna hit and quit just like that, Bunny?”

He teases clinging onto you again when you try to maneuver out of his embrace.

“No time for more cuddles Toru—Shoko texted, we’re getting dinner in two hours.”

“Wait! Bunny! That’s so far away—Let me go again, pleeeease!”

Gojo is determined this time to make you cum for real! And, yeah you know—your slick heat sliding up and down his cock again would be a highlight too.

“Toru–”

“—Come on bunny! We solved my problem but we haven't fixed yours, you still haven't cum yet!”

“Toru, I thought we understood we were never going to solve my problem in the first place—so don't stress! Also I know this is probably the first time a girl has said this to you and actually meant it—but it's really not you!”

Gojo puts his negotiation face on.

You wanted to play hardball? Bet.

“I’ll give you my black card for a whole week!”

Gojo turns you around to look him in the eye so you could see how sincere he was, he really wanted to try again—he knew he could make you cum this time!

You sighed.

You couldn't really be mad at him—in fact, it was actually the cutest thing—that he wanted to keep trying for your benefit—but you didn’t see the point when it would just lead to the same result. You don’t even need to glance down to see Gojo’s cock was just as resolute as he’s already recovered and fully bricked—length pulsing against your ass.

Well—given his last performance you were sure he’d last all of five minutes and if you had his black card for a whole week you were about to tear the entire Hermes store up—a Birkin and a Kelly in every color!

Hell, maybe you could even get the coveted baby pink ostrich one.

“Mmm’kay, Toru—black card for a week! No limit!”

“Yup of course! Oooh no—Wait, no rubbers and I'll let you have my new g-wagon too! I hear raw sex is sooo much better you will cum for sure then Bunny!”

Well you knew a good bargain when you heard it.

Throwing the unopened condoms to the side you laid back down.

Imported European cars are stupid expensive to get in Japan and if he was coming off a g-wagon—especially as it was a custom powder blue matte with dune colored seats and shiny platinum rims—then he could have as many two-minute pump sessions as he wanted.

He’d likely pass out from dehydration in less than twenty tops anyway.

“Okay, but same rules as before except no cumming inside Toru! I mean it! It's too much of a mess to clean up after, it’ll be dripping all night especially all that you came last time…”

The thought of your gooey tender cunt weeping his nut for hours has Gojo’s balls tightening in want of making it a reality—but he knew if all went to plan you’d be begging for it!

First—he needed you to take a more active role this time. He saw you settled back onto the pillows and that simply wouldn’t do.

“Um Bunny, can you be on top? I-I’m dying to see what your cute tiddies look like jiggling all crazy like in my face.”

You cover your chest, frowning in offense at his more debauched ecchi preferences but you agreed nonetheless.

Relenting as it’d likely have him cumming sooner and then you could finally get ready to meet the girls—all in your new g-wagon, although you’d definitely have to make up a lie as to how you scammed it out of Gojo.

Gojo takes your place on the pillows, amused as now it’s his turn to beckon you forward. Steeling yourself, you embarked on your climb to mount him. Tall and lean with wisps of hair sticking to his face Gojo looked more like he belonged in a painting, unnerving you that a face only an artist could sculpt admired your body with his lustful gaze.

He was too sexy for his own nerdy ass good like this and you failed not to whimper when his strong hands settled at your waist.

Lube in your hand you smirk, gaining some confidence back when you hear Gojo hiss as the cool gel once again spreads down his fiendish girth that pulses restlessly at your touch. The sensation is all the more agonizing without the latex barrier hindering him as your, your silky smooth palm glided over his bare cock before tugging back the sensitive foreskin covering his crown head.

Licking your lips you almost want to bend down and taste the pre marbling like a pearlescent jewel on his pretty exposed cockhead.

He’d probably cry like a baby if you did, you mused with a grin.

Good God girl snap out of it!

You chastise yourself—no, you had to focus and end this quickly before you lost your mind. The idea of fucking Gojo beyond what he could buy for you started to get more appealing and you couldn’t allow that.

Readying yourself to mount him this time you realize your pussy is quivering in anticipation of the stretch—it was uncomfortable last time so—why was your body reacting this way?

Your own pussy betraying you as she seemed to yearn for the opportunity to gobble him up, taking him in with less resistance in spite of you. Flexing around the thick intrusion inside your core you shiver in feeling the curve of every vein on his girthy cock as you lowered yourself onto him.

The way your pussy flexed as a jolt of electricity ran through you scared you—a new sensation bubbling up inside, threatening to make you lose yourself in the feeling. Must be survival instincts you rationed—your cunt scared for its life never having encountered such an acute danger like Gojo’s dick before.

The burn was pleasurable this time, sucking in sharp breaths at every slight movement of him moving inside your core. Yet Gojo is in even more bliss—from the serpentine motion of your hips cascading over his own to how your your puffy pussy lips looked so wonderfully parted, stretched open around his cock—FUCK!

How was he going to complete his plan if his brain just started turning to mush everytime your dangerously succulent cunt grinded against him.

“O–ooo shiiiiiit!”

“Y-You okay, Bunny?”

Although Gojo himself looked like he was in agony his face was reddening from how good your raw gummy walls were surging around his length.

“Hhnng, fine Toru—y’er j-just big.”

Gravity was your natural enemy in this scenario and you took him a bit past halfway this time.

Wanting to distract you, his large hands grope your tits but you knock him away—your stomach fluttering.

“What's wrong, this time?”

“...s’n-nothing, it’s—just put your hands on my hips, it helps me so my legs don't get tired.”

You lied.

Well your legs were quivering but more pressingly your heart started to race and you didn't know if it was because a cock like this could actually relocate your uterus to your lungs or if you’d actually started catching something similar to romantic feelings for Gojo Satoru.

Either one was unacceptable in your book.

“Hurry up and cum, Toru!”

However Gojo is about to say something, your phone rings.

“I-Its Utahime…”

“Don’t answer Bunny! Focus or you’re never going to cum!”

“I can multitask, Toru! Besides, on the small chance I do I know it's definitely going to take longer than the two minutes you lasted before.”

Hushing Gojo’s protests and eyes flaring at him to be silent, you answer the call.

“Bunny!”

“Hime!”

You greeted each other with your usual peppiness—like Gojo wasn’t 6 and a half inches deep with 2 and half more to go—give or take—inside you.

“What’s up? Oh erm, what am I doing—”

A sly and haughty smile plays on his lips and you scowl at him.

“—I’m still at Gojo’s and no—I’m not doing much at all right now! Haha—yeah. I can definitely talk, of course!”

Gojo frowns as his eyes narrow and to placate him you start half heartedly rotating your hips.

You still looked sexy as hell though. Even with less effort expended it was still a workout as shown by the sheen of perspiration glowing off your body. That delectable sight combined with the light swaying of your tiddies was more than enough for him to cum if he just focused on himself.

But he was determined not to this time, not until you had.

“See Toru? They were helping Shoko’s parents!”

You stick out your tongue and he makes a face back at you.

“Oh what?—s’nothing—Ha! Well ok! He said you were too busy bumping pussies to go to the mall with me! Psh—typical am I rite? Huh—put you on speaker? LOL O-OKAY.”

Snitch!

Gojo mouths to you offended you’d rat him out like this as Utahime’s voice shrills through the phone.

“Satoru you loser! You have to talk about our pussies cause you could never have one of your own in a million years!”

Snorting with laughter Gojo is more than amused.

If only they knew.

You pale signaling at him to ‘STFU’ or he could finish himself off.

“Aww, is that so Utahime? I’m so hurt.”

The mischief in Gojo’s voice is obvious—he’s clearly mocking you.

Annoyed with him getting the upper hand and feeling sassy, you pile on—

“Exactly Hime! I mean he might get some—but a total otaku like him wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy if he even ever got in—EEP!”

A heavy handed smack comes down on your ass—hard.

The force ripples its way into your cunt causing you to feverishly tighten as your tongue pushes a low moan out between your lips.

“Oh ho ho—what's this? You actually like getting spanked huh, Bunny? You dirty, dirty girl…”

Gojo is whispering again before his hand once more swats at that same cheek.

The sting causes saliva to pool in the corners of your mouth.

If looks could kill Gojo would have died a horrible death—that is if you could focus enough to even glare at him. You’re absolutely mortified—too consumed by the spanks that fiercely rained down on your reddening bottom, your pussy getting shamelessly wetter with every hit.

“AH–FAHHH—”

“Bunny! What’s happened?!”

You hear Shoko’s concerned voice this time.

“N-N-Nothing, G-Gojo’s being mean to me cause I told on him! H-He pinched me so hard Shoko!”

“Liar!”

Gojo mouths again and his demeanor turns absolutely devilish.

Oh? So that's how you wanted to continue to play?

You were such a brat sometimes but then again so was he and his competitive nature soared at the challenge.

“Oh did I? Like this, Bunny?”

Gojo’s palms cup your tits roughly before he pinches them, twisting your nipples causing the slobber that collected to dribble down your chin and onto your chest.

“Shiiii—T-Toru! S-STOP YOU A-AHHH–SSHOLE!!”

The grip his thumb and forefingers have on your sensitive buds intensifies and you can barely keep the phone in your grasp as you hold it out arm extended to keep your cries from being heard.

With only one hand free there’s no way for you to worm nor pry his hands from your tits as you are still struggling not to sink lower and choke on your own tongue from the electrifying sensations assaulting your cunt.

This couldn’t be what it was like could it? This overwhelming feeling?

You didn’t want to admit it but as tear-inducing as the sensations were—they felt real fucking good.

Your hips began involuntary rocking as your core now craved how Gojo’s cock scraped against your walls like it was trying to carve itself even deeper inside you if you’d let your hips drop just a little bit lower.

“Toru! Stop picking on our Bunny! Don’t make us come over there and kick your ass!”

The sweat that now runs down Gojo’s brow threatens to blur his vision but he’s locked in and focused. The phone situation being so fucking raunchy combined with the way your pussy is creaming on him (despite you trying your hardest not to feel good) has him stressed.

Swallowing he had to try hard to keep up the act as well as please you without cumming—it would be a feat if he accomplished it to say the very least.

God, this was all so shamefully vulgar.

Did you do this on purpose answering the phone?

He didn’t even know this was a kink of his—or yours apparently.

But your “problem” was now clear to Gojo:

It’s not that you couldn’t cum, it’s just that you were scared to cum.

Any real stimulation triggered your fight or flight.

You were perfectly capable, you just needed a bit of forcefulness—however the effect of it terrified you and you bolted from it every time you had sex with someone—until now.

Heh, there would be no more running from the nut for his little bunny rabbit.

Gojo wonders how far into his ecchi depravity he can take you.

“Your Bunny, huh?”

Gojo's eyes squinted as if he could stare down Shoko and Utahime through the phone.

You were his.

He was the one who was going to make you cum and frankly he didn’t give a fuck anymore if Shoko or Utahime heard it—in fact he wanted them too.

Planting his feet into the bed, Gojo’s form shifts as he swiftly grips your waist simultaneously bringing you down while driving his pelvis up—pummeling his entire length into your guts. The prickly patch of groomed hair at his base tickles your poor abused lil’ clit which had been forcibly nestled into them—the result of being smashed against his pubic bone.

“FUHCCCK—MUTHERFUHH—SHHHH–HIIIIIT!!!”

Vision momentarily blacked out and burning with tears mixed with your running mascara, your pussy still reeling from the sheer magnitude of Gojos long girthly length now all the way sheathed and practically tearing through your womb. Your eyes are firmly lodged in the back of your head, the electrifying vibrations cause you to drop the phone entirely. Your world is spinning from experiencing your first small orgasm that only increased intensity as your efforts to escape Gojo are in vain.

Your cervix is screaming at the probing intrusion of his bulbous tip ramming so far up into you but Gojo has you anchored to him unable to flee from his onslaught of thrusts.

If you could string together a coherent thought you would have wondered if in fact your stomach had been relocated next to your lungs as you felt so full you couldn’t breathe.

Your pussy violently spasms around his girth, creamy fluids seeping down onto his base from your cunt sloshing around him. Gojo grips your cheeks spreading you wider increasing the squelching noises echoing from your cunt.

Shit though, Gojo thinks your perfect pussy might actually break his dick off from how fervently you were clenching him.

Tongue fully lolled out of your mouth, you’re grasping onto Gojo’s shoulders for stability as your saliva drips down his pectorals.

“BUNNY!! Are you still there?? What’s that noise?”

Shoko and Utahime’s calls for you go unanswered. Gojo on the other hand is grinning, albeit through gritted teeth, pleased at how his long trunk-like cock is rendering you nonverbal.

“Hehe, you definitely came a bit that time didn’t ya—ya nasty lil’ Bunny, don’t lie.”

“N-N-Nooo T-Toru–s’like I-I c-can’t breathe—”

“Heh, a’course you can baby Bun—that's what it feels like when you cum, even I know that.”

SMACK!

Another firm smack to your ass has your cunt quivering wildly.

You feel like the virgin in this situation now—and honestly—are you not?

Did those other dicks really count?

It felt like you were having sex for the first time as this was a totally different experience even from the earlier round with Gojo.

“Don’t worry though, now that I know what kinda shit you’re into—I’mma take care of that pervy lil’ princess pussy sooo good, Bunny.”

Oh god—That couldn’t be true could it?

Spanking? Nipple twisting? Having your insides pushed up to your throat?

You didn’t actually like this kinda freaky shit did you?

Yet your body’s reactions remain true even if your mind doesn't want to accept the cause of the fire that is burning within you. Your pussy is in raptures at the feeling of being molded into the exact shape of Gojo’s cock—veins and all.

“HELLLOOOOO BUNNY!!!!”

Absolutely pleased with himself Gojo retrieves the phone.

“Awe p-poor thing, just stubbed her toe runnin’ from me. My—SHIII–room is—FUHHH—k-kinda a m-mess—S-See? I almost tripped just now too. Isn’t that right Bunny?”

Gojo brings the phone closer and you bat it away wishing he would just hang up and spare you the humiliation. Although humiliation seemed to be your new kink as mirroring his earlier actions as you’re pathetically moaning into his skin. Gojo’s masculine scent, mingled with the salty aroma of perspiration, floods your senses, making you feel even more lightheaded, increasing the sloshing of his cock buried deep in your cunt.

The crude noises that rang from your bodies squelching and slapping against each other renders Gojo unable to keep up the charade either. Making up a quick excuse—he has to go get ice for your toe—he quickly hangs up on Shoko and Utahime whose puzzled protests of concern he couldn’t give a single fuck about anymore.

God fucking you while on the phone with them was so fucking hot, he’d have to get you to do it again—maybe with Suguru next time, he’d probably even be into it.

“Hey B-Bunny—y-you think Shoko and Hime were naked too?”

You groan.

This fucking hentai otaku perv—you already told him that they were helping Shoko’s parents!

You want to glare, scream, chastise, get up—but you can’t—you’re at the mercy of him ruthlessly drilling up into your cunt and can only heave out tired mewls in reply.

“Fuuuck–imma cum again soon! Do you feel the way your naughty lil’ cunt is squeezing like she wants to wring me dry, wan’t me to give it all to your pussy Bunny?”

“N-Not i-inside m’pussy, T-Toru!”

A devious smirk appears.

Heh, yeah he promised not inside your pussy.

Without warning Gojo rips his cock out from your sopping core and manhandles you onto your back. Thinking he will simply cum outside somewhere you're finally able to breathe again and you exhale—only to feel his monstrous length being shoved down your throat.

Your eyes shoot open.

Greeted with the image of Gojo's heavy balls in your face, his ball hairs tickle your nose as you gag around his girth straining your throat open wide. You think if he didn’t reach your lungs through your guts he certainly would now that he’s eight and a half inches down your esophagus.

“You said i couldn’t cum in your pussy Bunny, so let’s use that pretty lil’ mouth pussy instead—sweet fuck, ya know she’s almost tighter than your actual cunt.”

Your hands fly to the outside of his thighs pawing over the sweat glossed skin as you drag your nails down them, leaving welts in an effort to get him to ease up. The potent musk of your shared lust that had dripped down his balls was now rubbing on your face assaulting your senses.

It was fucking nasty, so gross and yet your own pussy betrayed you—burning with an ache to be filled again at the smells that stimulated your own primal hedonistic urges.

“Awe, don’t be like that. I know you like it rough, yeah? I haven’t forgotten about you either baby.”

Gojo of course at this point isn’t talking to you but your cunt.

With one hand squeezing your already constricted airway, Gojo’s other snaked its way over your body and reeling it back before delivering a mean open palmed slap to your clit.

The sound of your soaked cunt echoed through his room and he almost came from that alone as your fluids trickled out of you faster, further soiling his expensive sheets.

“This pussy likes being spanked more than those cherry cheeks of yours huh, Bunny? I know my filthy hentai pussy does.”

You’re obviously unable to answer but the way you’re gurgling moans around his cock lets him know this is exactly what you like. Thrusting two thick fingers into your quivering core his burly appendages bullied themselves in as far as they could go.

“You know—G-God, FUCK you’re tight—Bunny, you know I read in an h-manga how girls can squirt from a lack of air and a little bit of prodding, s’ppose—S-SHIII—t’be something in here that sends em absolutely wild.”

Fingers searching deeper it's not until Gojo pulls back to add a third that he scrapes past a firm spongy spot that has your legs buckling.

Astonished by the amazingly sexy reactions of your body—Gojo’s eyes are blown out wide over how much your clit swells, your hole twitches and your juices spurt out of you as your tears run over your cheeks to wet his balls further. Gojo doesn’t even need to thrust as your throat tightens around him like crazy with him jamming his fingers into that particular spot over and over.

Lost in your own ecstasy you’re proven wrong as contrary to your belief you thought his otaku sex-ed would be to his detriment to his skills. However it's exactly because of all of the lecherous and depraved shit he collected and consumed did he know exactly what to do to you now that got you all messed up. Eyes lodged into your skull, squirting and practically blacking out with his dick stuffed down your throat on his long dexterous fingers abusing your cunt.

“SHIIIIIIT—”

With a keen grunt Gojo cums, pumping loads of viscous fluid down your throat forcing you to gorge on his thick cum.

“F-Fuck Bunny are you a throat goat? M-Milked me dry...”

He’s still driving his pliable fingers in and out of you, his arms are shaking from his own orgasm but he doesn’t care. Nothing on earth could stop him from replicating the beautiful sight of your pretty lil’pussy spurting out juices that run all the way down his forearm.

“…heh, looks like I can milk you too, Bunny.”

Gojo finally dislodges his dick out of your throat but still runs a hand through your pussy folds to rub soothing circles on your clit. You whimper through your coughs as you spit up some of his cum, still gagging after what were mere minutes but seemed like hours of choking on his beefy cock.

Vision spotty, tremors run through your body—both ends so thoroughly fucked out—that it doesn’t register that Gojo is once again lifting your body bringing you towards the edge of the bed.

If you thought Gojo was going to give you aftercare from having used your body like one of his anime fleshlights, you’d be correct—but not before one last round.

Lifting your hips off his luxe bed Gojo positions your wobbly legs on his shoulders. His eyes are blown out and crazed with his own twisted perversion. Weakened and spent himself as cock twitched from overstimulation but he’s never been a quitter—determined to make you cum again and again before one of you finally passes out.

Your toes wiggle and you keen as his tongue ravenously dips between your toes. Trailing his tongue past the arch of your foot to bite your heel.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Bunny—the best pussy in the whole world, how could you ever think she was broken? You were just waiting for me to use her huh?”

“S-shut up–Toru, j-jeez…”

Your windpipes had been fucked raw and you’re croaking which to your dismay only seems to turn Gojo on more and he’s tapping his tender engorged cockehead on your clit. Your brows pinch together as you bite back moans from his frenulum catching and chafing so wonderfully over your clitoral hood.

“Puhleaseeee, Honey Bunny! Let me fuck you a bit more now that we know you are as ecchi coded as I am, m’kay my pervy princess?”

The very thought shames you and you think your heart might seize from embarrassment if it doesn’t give out from pleasure first and your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest chest from all the pet names Gojo is bestowing upon you.

“Toru…”

You try to reason with him through your defeated huffs as you press your legs shut together.

“...y-you made me cum from your fingers n’ your cock.. Y-You won. Pleaseee—I-I don’t even think I can cum any more.”

Not convinced Gojo pushes your legs back.

“Oh, is that right? Let’s ask her then!”

Gojo delivers another smack onto your slippery pussy as if on the command of her new owner your obedient cunt immediately leaks a bit more creamy slick onto his palm.

“See, baby? She says you can though and that she’s tired of you running from it Bunny—”

Still hugging your legs together in his grasp, Gojo lowers himself to rub his cheek against your pussy like it was his favorite pillow.

“Don’t fret my pervy lil’ pussy I won't let Bunny deprive you any longer from what you really need.”

You groan yet Gojo is more gentle this time as he gingerly rolls you onto your belly and lifts your hips to slide his giant Agumon pillow underneath.

Urgh, did it have to be this one!?

There's no time for complaints though once Gojo spreads your cheeks wide. A glob of spit hits your crack as his thumb prods against your shy puckering rear hole while he humps his cock between the fat of your thighs through your soggy swollen folds.

“Shiiit imma fuck this tight lil’ bunny hole next time baby, m’kay?”

The threat causes you to shudder yet all your back talk and sass is gone from his illicit preparations as he elicits heady mewls from your hoarse throat. Your cunt flutters eagerly to have him fill you again as his fingers imprint themselves into your bottom.

The anticipation is so intense as bracing for his size ripping through you you nearly fail to notice Gojo is now humming to himself—humming—THE DIGIMON CHAMPIONS THEME SONG!?

OH HE HAD YOU ALL THE WAY FUC—

—And suddenly you’re screaming again, eyes glued to the back of your skull as his hips jerk forward, drilling his dick past your walls to pound directly into your cervix with the tempo of a madman.

OH FUCK! …s’good!

You finally surrender letting your cunt control your brain as you throw ass back to meet his frenzied thrusts. Like a drug addict from the first real taste your pussy is already addicted to the feeling of his cock destroying you.

“S’toru–S’toru–S’toru–FUHHHHCK!”

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, the only word your brain—now thoroughly fucked smoothed—could remember.

The sight of you chasing your own pleasure as your ass slammed back onto his pelvis, your skin rippling as it bounced and splashed frothy fluids onto his abs sent him further into perverse degeneracy.

“F-Fuck Bunny—baby, this pussy too good—We can’t tell Suguru for a while, kay? He’ll want to fuck you too and this pussy is just f’me. Suguru gets all the pussy s’tell me you’ll keep yours f’er me. Thought you were broken but you just needed my cock this whole time—”

Burying your face in the sheets bashfully at the mention of Suguru, your cunt pulls more taut around Gojo’s cock.

“—FUHH, g-go out with me yeah, Bunny? Love you s’much—SHIIIIT—buy you whatever you want—t-take you where you want—this dick s’yours Bun Bun—all yours!”

Plunging into deeper if it were even possible Gojo’s blunted nails drug into the fat of your ass and hips, it wouldn’t scar but it would certainly add to the inevitable bruising.

“I’ll never even look at a non 2D woman again as long as I have you as my lil’ onahole—shit I’ll never even buy one of those again unless it's in the shape of your pussy—F-FUCK, w-wait–y-you think we could get one made in the shape of your pussy–my girlfriend’s perfect pussy?!”

It’s too much—too overwhelming and your mind is slowly but surely being corrupted by Gojo. Otherwise the image of him whining while fucking a onahole casted from your cunt as he watches you finger yourself would have never in a million years popped into your mind.

Determined to see you unhinged in every respect, Gojo didn’t want to deny you pleasure but if he had to be a little mean to you so you could finally be honest with him then so be it.

Slowly pulling out, your expression is near frantic as you look back at him. Your mouth gaping and babbling nonsensically for him not for him to stop—you were so close.

Gojo simpers, relishing in your cute cockdrunk face scrunched with confusion from him pulling out so suddenly.

“W-Words baby, c’mon I just spilled my heart out here!”

Your pussy weeps longingly for Gojo’s cock as your body shakes with a yearning begging to be filled again.

God help you, you want him.

You want him and his sinfully curved demon dick badly, it’s all you could think about—Not even remembering what life was like before he so perversely rearranged your guts. However, not only did he know how to hit all your spots, he knew you—and despite him completely disregarding all of the rules you had initially set, he was the first guy who actually cared about how you felt during sex, even if he was a perverted otaku.

There was simply no use in denying it any longer.

You caved.

Tears streaming down your face as you hiccupped your admission of affections for him, red-faced and flustered.

“S’toru, I-I’ll be your girlfriend—need you n’need your cock s’much—”

Pressing the side of your face against the mattress you bring a shaky hand through your legs, fingers slipping over your slick as you part your pussy lips—your vacant core exposed and fluttering, begging for him just as hard.

“—m’also you’re onahole T-Toru, I promise i’ll only fuck you, j-just please keep fucking me, i wanna cum on your cock, want your cum in me Toru baby!”

You might die from the shame of it all once you sober up from being utterly cockdrunk and stupefied but all you could think about right now was Gojo’s hard dick laying heavy pipe back into your cunt.

Something snaps in Gojo.

Head over heels for you now, Gojo knew from that moment on he’d never let you go.

Real or 2D—no could compare to you in Gojo’s eyes.

Toru finally found something he loved more than digimon—your perfect lil’pussy.

And he was going to show her how much he loved her right now.

Taking what was so graciously presented to him this time around, you’re short circuiting once he’s finally inside you again your most base needs being satiated turning you into a cockfiendish whore crying for him to fuck you harder as you grip his sheets like you could rip them apart.

His strokes become more merciless, unrelenting on your pussy and Gojo leans his weight onto your back, legs bent crouching on top of you, his hips becoming manic they thrashed forward in short heavy thrusts to hammer you into the mattress.

Gojo himself is beyond gone.

Disregarding all promises of mentioning otaku shit while he was wrecking your cunt.

“Fuck bunny this feels better then what I thought Agnewomon’s pussy would be like— you'd look so sexy in that cosplay. Gonna have you dress up for me and show you off at cons. I’ll buy you whatever you want, anything, the whole fucking world yeah? Just fuck—wear those those vibrating panties while you cosplay too, you’d like that?”

You tightened groaning at his debauchery, something that was not missed at all by Gojo who by this point had fucked his own self dumb in your angelic cunt. White strands of his hair stuck to both of your faces as he tiled your head back so he could see how desperately those little hearts danced in your dilated pupils before they were reduced to nothing more than mere splotches whiting out your vision.

“Fuck u really are a slut huh bunny? Tightening at the thought of all those otaku perverts looking at you in that skimpy outfit while I control the buzzing on that lil clit. But they can’t have you—m’the only otaku pervert that knows how to make you cum!”

Delirious with melodic honeyed cries spilling from you, you just wanted him to stop talking—pointing out every single time your body responded to his ecchi tastes becoming your tastes and now just yearning for a taste of him.

Reaching back you’re pulling him down to smash your lips together. Messy, but you could care as Gojo tried to swallow your tongue fucking his own into your mouth with a force that matched his cock. If fucking you was heaven then kissing you was nirvana—he’d give you the whole world if he could keep fucking you like this forever.

Gojo needs you to cum again soon as the feral need breed your tummy until it swells with his seed has him losing the little sanity he even had to begin with. A virgin until today he’d saved up so much waiting for your tight cunt this whole time.

Moving his lips away from yours only for air, your chest heaves harmonies cries from his hand weaving under your bodies. Jittery fingers swiped frantically over your clit, hurling you towards your euphoric climax as his lips descend back upon yours.

“Cum Bunny—I got ya baby.”

Deliberately plowing himself harder against your cervix, your body seizes up releasing tension into pure white energy that you swore was pumping through your every vein as an extension of your pussy as his heavy load spurts to paint your walls and sear your insides as his thrusts continue to swill his seed inside you, pushing it further into your womb—-thank fuck for birth control.

However that was the last thing you remember before you go limp, temporarily blacked out as you swear you’ve transcended to a celestial plane of existence. One where all slutted out souls went to escape from the unearthly pleasure they’ve been tortured by. You don’t know how long you’ve been out but you're squirming as you come back to consciousness. Realizing your now back on your back as your hips involuntarily rocking against something thick and wet.

When you finally manage to open your eyes you're greeted by Gojo tongue slurping at your clit and lapping up the cum oozing out of your battered hole like it was a refreshingly creamy bowl of kakigori. His hands embedded themselves into your thighs pinning them to the bed nibbling on your clit and having your already overstimulated core climaxing on his tongue once more.

Strings of your sticky nectar connect his tongue to your cunt as he looks up at you. Having the audacity to grin lovingly at you as if he didn’t look like a downright starved and deranged man with a sheen of shared fluids dribbling down his chin. He’s pussy drunk once again this time buzzed off the pungent yet sweet taste of his cum marinating in your creamy tenderized cunt.

Gojo is cheesin’ at you like he’s found his favorite spot in the world—and he had as far as he was concerned.

“You said it was too messy, remember Bunny? The least I can do to make it up to you is scoop every drop out of your runny lil’ cunt with my tongue! What kind of boyfriend would I be to have all this cum soaking my Bunny’s slutty little thong and spilling down her thighs while out to dinner—so I decided to have mine a little early.”

FUCKING HELL—DINNER! What time was it?!

Disordented, your head is fuzzy and you could feel the soreness settling in your muscles. You didn’t think you’d be able to get out of this bed in the next 24 hours, let alone make it to dinner—if you hadn’t already missed it!

“Nnnn, n-not like I can go anymore Toru, s’all your f-fault!”

Your bruised lips poke out into pout. Gojo chuckles at you how cute you look and he rises up from between your thick thighs to boop you on the nose as he gazes adoringly at you.

“I know princess m’sorry—I already texted Shoko saying you couldn’t, don’t worry~~”

But your eyes widened as you were now fully worried.

Worried as to what the fuck Gojo actually texted them!

“T-Toru—”

“—I just told them you weren’t feeling well, was that okay?”

Quickly assuaging your fears—you can relax a bit for now (although you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do later) as Gojo pulls you to him again and softly kisses your neck, hands returning to your ass to rub soothing circles on your chaffed skin.

Relaxing again floods sleep into your eyes. A welcome godsend honestly, so you can process everything that just happened, especially Gojo aggressively fucking a love confession out of you.

“And m’sorry if I got carried away Bun… but you were so good for me, so fucking perfect! Just relax and I’ll take care of you! I’ll handle everything—for you and your nasty lil’ cunt. I love you both and I’ll keep both my pretty girls happy forever! I promise!”

Gazing at you with cartoonishly sparkling eyes, you have to look away from Gojo lest your ears altogether burn up in embarrassment from his shameless and yet a hundred percent earnest vocalization of affections that somehow still got your heart racing.

“—oh and my parents will be here tomorrow—we can tell them right? They will be so excited! They've been telling me since I was little I shouldn’t let you get away! Ooo! Ooo! Maybe now that we're dating they’ll let us use their sex dungeon! We need to think of a safe word though Bunny—”

Scarcely comprehending anything he is saying to you, your mind like your pussy had been fully liquified. Both ruthlessly corrupted by Gojo’s long otaku cock and pervy ass fantasies which is no surprise seeing as his family even owns a—

HOL’ THE ENTIRE FUCKUP—A SEX DUNGEON!?

Like a shot of caffeine directly into your veins your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you blink at him dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.

“Doesn’t that sound fun, Bunny!? My parents are so cool! When I turned 18 my dad even gave me some of his rare and one-of-a-king hentai figures for my collection to get me started and then—”

Tuning him out you’re gagged at the unexpected revelations—and his parents always seemed like such charming n’ decent God fearing people too. Well known to be ruthless in the business world, but upstanding global philanthropists nonetheless.

Well the apple sure as hell didn’t fall too far from the sordid sex fiend tree, that was for damn sure!

Clearly you had no idea what you were getting yourself into or had unleashed by agreeing to be Gojo’s girlfriend. I mean, could no longer deny your growing feelings for him—plus he did just give you multiple back-breaking-terrifyingly-mind-numbing-earth-shattering-orgasms. Not to mention, you would definitely be getting one of every Hermes bag ever made if you wanted one—but at what cost?

Your Dignity?

Self-respect?

The right to call yourself a functional and contributing non-degenerate member of society?

Who knows really…

Although perhaps dating a Gojo, the next heir at that, you’d be too rich and highly regarded for people to even care (we’ll except for your friends giving y’all hell but you could eventually make peace with that).

You internally groan as the gentle touches on your bottom morph into lustful gropes and you know your brand new boyfriend would not be granting rest for your totally demolished lil’ pussy anytime soon unless you could distract him a bit.

“—Toru, Toru baby listen, please.”

Interrupting him, you muster the energy to put on the sweetest face you can manage in your exhausted state.

And of course, Gojo, as always and yet unknowingly, tests the limits of your tolerance.

“Yes, my whittle Bunny, my kinky baby girl—hentai goddess divine?”

Gojo nuzzles your nose in an eskimo kiss as he showers you with ‘loving compliments’.

Scrunching your face, you grit your teeth through your already weak smile to stop yourself from losing it at him referring to you as ‘hentai goddess divine’—y’all would definitely be having a talk about that as well as appropriate in-public pet names later though.

“Babyyyyy—I’m so sticky and sore, why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get stuff ready for us to take a bath, hm? Maybe find me something else to wear too, hm?”

You did need a bath and you calculated even with his energetic disposition it should take him at least 15-20 minutes to delegate the tasks and get everything together considering how huge his mansion was.

“Oh! Of course, of course! Just wait here! I’ll be right back, my ecchi angel.”

Brow-twitching you sit up to wave at him with another strained smile as he scrambles to put on pants and heads out of his room.

You sigh tiredly and make yourself comfy on his cloud like pillows.

Thinking he’s finally left and you can savor some much needed time to make peace with what you got yourself into by agreeing to be the girlfriend of an otaku nerd like Gojo Satoru—

—when his head suddenly peaks back in the room with a sheepish look on his face.

“Heh, you know Bunny, was thinking—you really didn’t think I could code crack your cute lil’ cunt now did ya?”

Your eyes are closed but your fists are balling angrily gripping onto the pillows surrounding you.

“Don’t worry Bunny, yours is the only pussy my dick is digidestined for!”

With that, Gojo narrowly avoids the Agumon pillow plushie that is swiftly hurled at his head as he dashes away from the door, his merry yet hysterical laughter echoing through the halls.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⏭ a/n: this fic was wayyyy too long but i've been kinda mean to y'all gojo glazers lately rejoicing in your sorrows cause you are now miserable like the rest of us lmfao, so consider this y'alls bone :P tbh im kinda surprised this is the first full gojo fic i've written lol, it was fun tho cause otaku!gojo is a freak for pussy would drive you insane in all the right and wrong ways. i still have invisible man gojo and ceo/professor gojo planned tho (plus that frat boy satosugu request).

plug choso p3 next! (i promise!!!) taglist.

reblogs and comments are my life's blood ty ᥫ᭡ .ᐟ

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websterss · 3 months

Text

JUST TRYING TO BE BRAVE — ERIC (AQPDO)

REQUEST: A request for Eric from A Quiet Place: Day One The reader only knows of one way to calm him whilst he's having a panic attack during the madness, and they gently let him rest against their chest and listen to their heartbeat until he calms down <3

WARNING(S): SLIGHT SPOILERS, fluff, angst, panic attacks

WORD COUNT: 1,286

PAIRING: Eric x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! I didn’t know where you wanted the reader to calm him down so you get a two-for-one scenario fic lmfao <33

MASTERLIST

You don’t know what you would’ve done if you hadn’t run into Sam like you and Eric had. You two probably would have continued to wander the discarded vacant streets of New York, had you decided not to follow the cat.

Sam had been insistent on you both leaving her be with her cat, but at last she got used to your presence. Now as you shelter in her abandoned home, watching and hearing the rain fall from the windows, you can’t help but feel relieved those creatures can’t hear your beloved's panicked inhales and exhales.

“Eric, it’s okay! You’re alright. We’re okay!” He only shakes his head at your reassured comments. Your consolation this time wasn’t doing the trick to calm him down, if you hadn’t run out you would have given him his prescribed anxiety meds. “It’s okay. They can’t hear us up here right now. You’re okay. We’ve made it this far haven’t we?” You breathe out a laugh as you cup his face. He barely musters a nod before his eyes close again, you could imagine the tornado spinning around in his chest. Wreaking havoc on his sanity and any small chance of serenity. You could imagine it all. You could see the panic, the fear in his eyes, making his chest rise and fall rapidly as he struggled to maintain his breath. “Do you want to try it again, what your doctor recommended us to do? Your head pressed on my chest. Match your breathing to the rhythm of each beat of my heart…” You trailed off letting him take the lead.

At your suggestion, he nods slowly, his eyes closing as he reaches out for your hands again. "O-Okay..." Eric tried to take deep breaths, but they came out as panicked stutters.

You sat back against the sofa, allowing space for him to rest against your chest. You began to steady your rhythmic pace, knowing it only worked if you were just as calm and relaxed. You press a gentle kiss against his curls. As his breathing slows to a soft inhale and exhale. He tuned out everything around him. Hearing every thump, feeling every minor skip in your chest. He felt your steadiness, felt the caresses in his hair. The strong warm hold of your other arm as you held him close. He could feel you, hear every intake of air. You were present for him, and he was welcoming the stillness the moment allowed for you both to have once again. He guessed as much though just how the rest of your lives would dissolve into, a world of quiet.

It seemed heavenly at first, but otherworldly frightening, knowing he might just have to savor the small moments where he’d get to hear your voice again. Just as he was doing now.

Once you registered his slackened jaw and relaxed shoulders, you assumed as much that he had fallen asleep. You didn’t dare move. Your fingers continued to rake through his hair as he had succumbed to sleep. You couldn't help but feel relieved that he had calmed down and been able to find some rest. The rain continued to patter against the windows, its soothing sound acting as a natural lullaby to ease your nerves. As you held him close, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his peaceful face.

“What started the attacks?” Sam watches you both from the windows.

“Moving far from home. His parents were so proud of him for following through with law school, but he was devastated to leave them. I completely out of mind in love with him, made the biggest jump of my life following him to the U.S.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

You peer up at Sam with glistened eyes. “N-No. I wouldn’t be sane going through this apocalypse without him. Whatever this whole mess is!” You exclaimed quietly. You look down at him, brushing back his curls. “I’d regret it more if I hadn’t followed him here. I can’t imagine what he would’ve done all alone, if he’d survived it this far. I think he would. I wonder if he’d have met you just the same if I wasn’t here. I’d have been thankful just the same though, Sam. For letting him stick with you.” You choke back a sob, your smile widening at the corners. Sam only nods, turning her head away from your vulnerable confession. You didn’t take it to the heart. Who knew what pain she was going through herself.

As you spoke to Sam, your voice quivered with a mix of love and vulnerability. You could feel the weight of your words hanging in the air, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of you to navigate this strange new reality. You couldn’t help but wonder how Eric would have fared if you hadn't been by his side, a thought that sent a shiver down your spine. With bated breaths, you turned your focus back to him, sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“Eric baby please!” You swish around in the water, eyes glistening as you look up at the creature crawling out from the hole on the roof. Sam had taken a more firmer approach. Holding her hand over his mouth. You had caught him about to squeak, before Sam shushed him. His need to express his panic in screams was hard to muffle.

You moved as quietly as you could in the water. Making your way to take over Sam’s place. Eric only shook his head at you. You had to nod, to remind him to stay calm.

“Eric, we need to slow your heart.”

“N-No, no, no.” He muttered. “I can’t…”

“You can, you can. Baby, look at me.” You whispered harshly, gripping his face like Sam had done. In a more serene and calm scenario, your softer touch would have been your go-to, but not when that thing was getting closer. “I’m scared right now, I’m scared too, but we need to get you back on track. I need you to focus and match your breathing to mine, right now!” Your eyes plead with him. “Please!”

His eyes were wide with fear, pupils dilated and breaths shallow. The panic was clearly taking over him as water dipped into his mouth, making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the impending danger. Despite his obvious distress, he nodded slightly, trying his best to calm himself down. As you held his face, he tried to match his breathing to yours, each breath a struggle for control over the mounting fear. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay grounded in the presence of your touch.

"I got you. D-Deep breaths…" You barely whisper to him, your frequency morphing into mouthed words.

He took a shaky breath, shuddering as he attempted to follow your instructions. Your steady presence grounded him to the moment.

You didn't hesitate to place his head on your chest. You placed your hand on the back of his head, rubbing his wet hair back and forth in hopes of reassuring him. You tread lightly backwards, keeping your sights on the beast behind you three.

Eric pressed his ear against your chest, the sound of your steady heartbeat providing a calming rhythm to focus on. His breaths were still shaky, but with your hand on the back of his head, soothing in soft caresses, he slowly began to calm down. He closed his eyes and let himself be guided through the water, trusting your instincts to lead the way. Trusting both Sam and you to get him far away from the damned creature.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag.

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had.

God, you’d never have friends like that again.

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen.

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up.

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment.

A city now filled with killers.

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil.

Not good.

Shit. Karver, where did you go!?

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US.

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air.

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed.

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy.

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.”

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been.

So that was where you came in.

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.”

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty.

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back.

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips.

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple.

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses.

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing.

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured.

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper.

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same.

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come.

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder?

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death.

Your mark has been met.

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow.

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze.

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman.

The Reaper.

Oh, what would they think of you now?

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times.

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all.

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries.

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete.

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling.

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set.

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group.

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play.

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching.

“Hm,” their command affirms.

Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–”

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different.

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances.

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow.

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit.

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys.

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant.

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat.

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate.

Price grunts under his breath.

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask.

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?”

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over.

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves.

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion.

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’.

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand.

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all.

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.”

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell.

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate.

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.”

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer.

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?”

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book.

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit.

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over.

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted.

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm.

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before.

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows.

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture.

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head.

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant.

The room is more silent than Ghost is.

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.”

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow.

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.”

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time.

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered.

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague.

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim.

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes.

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.”

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders.

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now!

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.”

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do.

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping.

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself.

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission.

And Ghost.

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks.

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt.

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work?

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky.

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch.

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens. He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.”

“Sir!”

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been.

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back.

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself.

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest.

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly.

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily.

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time.

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen.

But there were ups to this constant downward slope.

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market.

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.”

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks.

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters.

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky.

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull.

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean.

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me.

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you��something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt.

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant.

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice.

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked.

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point.

If I had known…you frown.

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.”

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it.

Like blood lining the street.

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you.

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you.

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver.

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins.

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch.

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days.

Your Captain scurries after.

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type.

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude.

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle.

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case.

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth.

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement.

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?”

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.”

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms.

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?”

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat.

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves.

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report.

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued.

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom.

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat.

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race?

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute.

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted?

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound.

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.”

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit?

“Now that’s dark.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights.

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore.

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you.

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?”

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how.

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left.

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely.

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath.

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets.

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles.

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare.

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious.

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.”

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh.

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow.

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way.

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around.

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you.

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around.

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led.

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–”

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it.

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after.

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you.

Boxed in.

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it.

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you.

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it.

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you.

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps.

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious.

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah!

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!”

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs.

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement.

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.”

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant.

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that.

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow.

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee.

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time.

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter.

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant.

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now.

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip?

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side.

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate.

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years.

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated.

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks.

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet.

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should.

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors.

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth.

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong.

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you?

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haruchuiyo · 1 year

Text

Everlasting love

being a princess means select people for you to fall in love with, but what if you love the man who’s sworn to protect you?

content: royal au + princess x bodyguard + fluff + kind of poetic (i hope so lmfao) + more fluff + established friendship + requited love + even more fluff + slight angst + fem!reader + kisses + slightly suggestive + jing yuan’s so incredibly desperately in love with you

word count: a little over 6k (this fic had no reason to be so long but it’s a fast read I promise!!)

this fic is very self indulgent so I wrote whatever I felt like so lots of stuff isn’t gonna make sense lol

—

It feels silly to do what you’re doing, hiking up a grassy hill while holding onto your dress so you don’t trip, all the while your white haired bodyguard is trailing silently behind you a few steps away. The grass was cut evenly and was muddy from the rain earlier this morning.

You weren’t actually allowed to go out but time to time, rules gets disobeyed by you and you do what you want to do. Although your bodyguard hesitated in stopping you when he saw you put on your walking boots. But who was he to say no? You were the princess of the kingdom after all and he is just a mere bodyguard assigned to guard your well-being. At all times.

The first time you saw him was through your window in your bedroom at night. You heard the horses neighing, the carriages stopping in their strides and distinct deep voices speaking. As curious as you were, you look down from your window and see the king’s guards in their uniform. A particular figure caught your attention with his interesting long white hair. Feeling as though he was being watched, he looks up and your eyes meet. Your eyes slightly widen in surprise when he sends you a smile your way. And you hastily hide yourself away from view.

The first time you met him, he had a gentle neutral expression on his pretty face. He was tall, had long strides when he walked, and he gently held your hand while kissing your knuckles when greeting you. When he spoke up and called you ‘your highness’, and introduced himself as Jing Yuan and your new bodyguard, you felt puzzled with the way your heart pounded against your chest. This was the first time you properly met the behemoth of a man in front of you. And all you wanted to do was leave. Bodyguards are tiresome and they’re on your beck and call every moment of the day without fail. It’s tiresome. Definitely why you felt puzzled because of your increased heartbeat.

Standing atop the hill, the wind was cold but you felt warm below your garments. You look behind you, sure to say jing yuan was behind you.

“It feels nice doesn’t it?” He was looking at you away from the scenery in front. He smiles gently and slightly nods. “It sure does, my lady.” He replies and you smile at him back.

“It is very nice actually, this is my favorite spot did you know?” You ask again while looking at the scenery, taking in the view with a smile on your face.

“It’s my first time hearing of it actually but I keep that in mind, princess.” You giggle at the name he called you.

“And it’s my first time hearing you call me something else aside from ‘my lady’” you retort, lightly mimicking jing yuan at how he says ‘my lady’.

You see his eyes slightly widen in surprise before he took steps in front of you with lowering his head.

“I apologize, my lady, i didn’t know I was out of line.” He hastily speaks up and you chuckle at that.

“It’s because you aren’t out of line, jing yuan.” You gently say before speaking up. “It’s quite nice to be called something else than my lady although it’s the title of my current status.” You lightly giggle at your own words as you kneel down to pluck a flower from the grass.

You see how it’s a pink bluebell, which surprises you because there aren't a lot of them on this hill. You were gonna speak up about it when you realized you were looking down at the flower too long, and also the fact that Jing yuan was quiet. You look up at him and see how he’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes was gentle, thoughtful and of something else that you can’t quite put a name on. And then he flashes you his usual gentle smile. “I keep that in mind as well.” He speaks up, before adding with a glint in his eyes. “Princess.” And you giggle at that which makes him smile even more. His smile has you momentarily glance at the pink bluebell before looking back at him. Your hearts pounding faster against your ribcage.

—

“Let’s go horseback riding today as activities, shall we?” You speak up at the dinner table, directing your words towards jing yuan. Your father is looking at you with a questionable face as if he couldn’t believe your words. Jing yuan was surprised himself but was better at hiding it.

“Surely you can take the carriage?” He asks and you shake your head while cutting into your food. “Take the carriage where? Horseback riding it is.” You say with a tone that your decision is final. You look up from your food at Jing yuan, who’s standing at a corner close to you. And when your eyes meets, you send him a big smile his way and he reacted with a slight smile as well along with a small bow to his head.

And here you are standing in front of a horse like it’s the first time you’re seeing the creature.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” You hear jing yuan’s familiar voice from behind you.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.” You simply say and jing yuan turns quiet. You look behind you and see how he’s getting down from his own horse.

“A moment, please.” He says before walking away with his horse. Coming back a few moments later alone.

“It’s been decided I ride with you.” He simply says.

“On the same horse?” You ask.

“On the same horse.” He repeats finally.

And he helps you up on the saddle, your dress puffs up in front of you which you grin at because it simply looks so silly. And then you lightly squeal when you feel jing yuan hopping up on the saddle behind you. You feel his arms go around your body and your heart pounds faster. Your body feels hotter when you feel his firm chest pressed up against your back.

“Hold onto this tightly, princess.” He says by your ear and you turn loss of words and simply nod your head. His voice was soothingly deep and it almost sent your brain into shambles. You hold the reins and you feel warmer inside when you see how Jing yuan’s holding the reins as well along with you.

“It’s a bit cramped.” You blurt out and jing yuan chuckles. “Nothing to do about that now, is there?” At his words you chuckle before you squeal again when the horse starts walking.

“This surprised me.” You say after calming down. “Feels quite nice actually. You’re a good rider.” You add in.

“Been riding since I could walk.” He simply says and you giggle. “You merely jest, I’m sure I couldn’t even talk when I took my first steps.” And at that, jing yuan laughs and you decide you like the sound of it.

“Alright princess, wanna go a little faster?” He asks and you widen your eyes in excitement. “Who am I to say no? Of course I want to.” You chimed and jing yuan nudges the horse with his heels and the horse’s speed increases.

That makes you laugh in delight, at the speed and how good it makes you feel and excited. You look up at the sky, feeling the breeze on your face and breathe in the fresh air with your eyes closed, not realizing you leaned your head back against Jing Yuan’s shoulder.

“This feels so nice.” You say happily, opening your eyes and getting a closer view of Jing Yuan’s face. He quickly tilts his head to meet yours and your faces was inches apart.

“Eyes on the road, princess.” He announces, looking at you and you giggle. “You’re the one who’s controlling the reins of the horse.” And at that, he grins at you. “Touché.” He simply says, still grinning while looking away at you.

Only now did you properly process how close your faces were and how it made you feel. Nervous, curious, especially at things you shouldn’t feel curious about your own bodyguard. And also over the moon, because it also felt nice to have him this close in this proximity.

Little did you know the man himself felt the same. How he wishes to actually properly hold you. Infuriating how he could only put his arms around your frame to hold the reins, but not your body to his. His heart beats faster when you laugh at his jests, when you show him your pretty smiles, smiles he sleeps and wakes thinking of. How your eyes seem to glisten in happiness when he steps into your view. No matter what side of the bed he wakes up on, whatever emotions he’s feeling, as soon as he sees you his entire day is made for the better.

He feels satisfied and content at how your head is still on his shoulder and he signals the horse to slow down and the horse starts to walk calmly.

“I didn’t like you at the beginning.” He hears you speak up. He raises his brow but his hearts is racing and his minds jumping to conclusions.

“What do you mean by that, my lady?”

“I simply did not like you because you were a bodyguard. Mine especially. Didn’t like anyone being just steps away from me all the time, every moment of the day. It felt suffocating.” You admit to him, tilting your head to the side of his neck, Jing yuan swears he could feel your lips brushing his neck and it’s taking every restraint in him to not react and move.

“I see why you didn’t like me.”

“I do like you now.” At your simple bold words, his bloods rushed and his heart rates piqued. He unknowingly made the horse stop in its tracks hastily, which had you almost falling back on the ground before jing yuan caught you with his arm.

For the second time of the day, your faces are inches apart and your eyes are widened in surprise.

“I mean I do like you.” You repeat. And jing yuan eyes widens at your second confession. Or was it really a confession.

“Princess, I’m not sure I understand the meaning behind your words.” He sounds breathless. He watches how your lips open and closes, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t mean it like that way.” You blurt out. “And of what way do you speak of?” He asks again.

“I’m not sure I can speak of what I actually mean, I’m so confused myself.” You tell him and he hears how your voice wavers. And I’m sure his eyes are as hectic as yours, looking all over each others face.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“Why do you always go back and forth between calling me ‘my lady’ and ‘princess’?”

You ask him. And now it’s his turn to be loss of words. “And stop apologizing when you haven’t done anything wrong.” You remark gently but sternly.

“I apologize. A force of habit, princess.”

“And there you go again.” You say and he smiles lightly.

“What can I say?”

“A force habit that as well?”

“You might be right.”

And you haven’t spoken of what transpired that day. Yet.

—

“I’m not interested in being wed to the prince, father.”

Your father, the king, sighs as he rubs his temples at your defying attitude. You merely send him an angry look his way and when your eyes meet jing yuan’s, you simply wanted to cry your heart out at the frustration you felt. Of being wed, to not have your own choice of who you want to marry and the feeling of your freedom slipping away, slowly by slowly.

“You are to simply get to know him, not to be wed.” Your father stated and you let out a dry chuckle.

“And at the end of the day, you’re gonna have me wed to a man I do not want nor love.” You retort back before walking away, ignoring your father calling for you. You continue to walk, knowing jing yuan is on your path behind you.

“My lady.” You hear him call for you when you arrive at the doors of your suite. You stand still and turn to look at him. “Yes?” You answer, pretending to look fine but failing miserably. You see how jing yuan’s eyes look dismayed at your apparent displeasure.

“Do you wanna go to your spot?” He asks and you feel a little of your displeasure slowly lift off your mind.

“I’d love to.”

The moment you arrived your favorite hill with jing yuan, your heart felt light and content. Emotions surges over you when you see pink bluebells once more. Why they grow on this hill, you have no idea but you’re not complaining.

“That flower is beautiful.” You hear jing yuan say and you look up at him with a smile. You pluck the pink bluebell and raise it in the air, placing the flower beside jing yuan’s head. You close one eye as if to observe him from a binocular.

“What are you doing?” Jing yuan chuckles at your antics.

“Just observing how beautiful the flower are, of course.” You say with a big smile and jing yuan feels his heart skip. He thought of the day he asked for the meaning of the flower from the royal gardener. And what you just did now, he feels his blood rush and lovely feelings come over him.

—

The day the prince from the neighbouring kingdom arrived, you detested him right away. He wasn’t kind to the servants, simply looking you up and down before showing you a pretend happy smile. You felt revulsion when he grabbed your hand to greet you with a kiss to your knuckles.

While he was doing that, you looked at jing yuan who was standing beside you and you simply did a face to show your annoyance. He merely replied with a smile before glancing at the prince and back at you, you took that as a signal to look away from jingyuan to the prince.

The days after that, every walk after breakfast and luncheon, you had to take it with the prince. You dreaded those walks every day and would rather have them with the wall of your bedroom, than with the prince who only seemed to be interested in himself.

On a sunny day, fortunately, the prince didn’t come along as he complained of an apparent headache. You were able to take a walk alone with Jing yuan.

While walking in front of you, you suddenly slowed down, making jing yuan bump into you from behind. You giggle when you hear him slightly gasp.

“Are you alright, princess?” He asks worriedly as if a slight bump to your body will damage you. You giggle again. “Couldn’t be more alright.” You answer and you see how his shoulder seems to relax.

“Take a walk beside me, will you? I quite missed our time alone.” You confess honestly and jing yuan’s face shows evident surprise at the sound of your words before he nods. “Always at your request, my princess.”

After walking for a quite a moment, you glance at the man beside you, whos silently holding onto his sword at his hip in his holster, face looking straight ahead of him, his hair fluttering along with the wind. You kept looking even if he turned to look at you. As he does that, you smile at him.

Jing yuan felt his body warm up at your smile and the way you were looking at him. He wished he could take this walk with you closer without a single distance, while holding your hands and not as your bodyguard but something more. But that is something he could only dream and think of.

“The other day, I was being honest.” He hears you speak up, still smiling but looking straight in front of you as you walked. “About liking you.” You softly add in. Jing Yuan holds his sword holster a tad too hard.

“I’m your bodyguard princess, I’m afraid we can’t be anything more.” He detests himself for saying that, but it’s only the truth. Even if the truth hurts. He sees you smiling sadly at the ground before looking up at him, widening your smile. But he knew it wasn’t genuine by how your eyes seemed to glisten in tears.

“Even so, I’m not saying I don’t feel the same way.” And now it was your turn to get surprised. And he sees how your eyes wavers in shock and dejection at the same time. Because as he mentioned before, you two can’t be anything more than a princess and her bodyguard.

“It’s frustrating.” You admit ruefully as you try not to let your tears fall. You smile sadly at him while holding back your tears. You see how Jing yuan steps closer to you, hesitating to make a move only to not do it. You were gonna speak up before you hear footsteps behind you, and there is the prince you don’t wanna marry.

You give the man you love one last smile before putting on a false happy front for the prince.

—

Ever since that day, everything felt normal but wasn’t the same.

Jing Yuan feels his heart ache each and every time he sees the prince from the neighbouring kingdom gets close to you, gets to stand next to you. His legs wants to walk and stand beside you, hands itches to touch you and his heart wants to be with you every moment of the day.

Today was a small ball your father hosted for only nearest relatives.

Your beauty is infinite and you’re indescribably pretty in your ball gown. And jing yuan couldn’t take his eyes off you at any moment. At some moment of when you were dancing with the prince, your eyes met and he sees you do a shy smile and he swear he felt his cheeks and body heat up.

You swear you saw jing yuan fidget in the spot he was standing at when you smiled at him. And your heart flutters at the thought of the effect you have on the man who’s sworn to protect your life.

The dance was over and you feel a presence behind you. Turning around as you let go off the prince, you see Jing Yuan.

“May I have the pleasure of your next dance, princess?” His voice was of a gentle tone, mellifluous to your ears. He gives you a soft smile as you nod your head. “You may.” You accept his offer with a mix of a shy and delighted tone. You don’t miss how the prince eyes the both of you. So you turn to look at him.

“I had a lovely dance, your highness.” You state smoothly and the prince does a slight bow. “As did I, princess.” He simply says before walking away, not before eyeing jing yuan down as if he was a threat to your presence.

The orchestra starts a new melody and you feel Jing Yuan’s hand on your waist and his other holding your hand. You place your unoccupied hand at his shoulder.

Your fingers touches the nape of his neck and you feel your body get pulled closer into his. You smile as you waltz the floor with him. Jing Yuan closes his eyes when he feels you softly massage his nape and you resisted in your entire body to not place your cheek on his sternum.

A moment into the waltz, you feel his hand at your waist slightly hold you tighter and you look up at him. Your eyes meet and his eyes were mesmerising. And you give out a subtle gasp when you feel his hand slip lower down your waist. You see the decisions from on jing yuan’s face and you wanted to stop him before he did what he did.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady. Have a lovely evening.” He shortly says before leaving you alone on the dance floor. Him leaving has you thinking you should look at your father and you did.

His face showed he knew it all.

—

That same night, jing yuan got to his suite and took his suit off. He loosens his bow tie and rolls up his sleeves. He looks around his room in frustration while gripping his hair. Frustrated at the fact he ruined your moment too early, he shouldn’t have touched you so intimately without your consent about it. He saw how your eyes looked frantic before he was about to excuse himself. And the way your expression fell when he did excuse himself. But something about the touch felt so right and for him. You felt right to him and with him.

Feeling like he needs to take a walk to settle down, he grabs his suit jacket and opens the door, almost walking into you.

When he sees you there hiding under a large mantle, your face hidden by the hood. Your eyes met him and jing yuan doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his room before anyone sees you.

“My lady, you shouldn’t be here.” He mentally hit himself for that statement. He just pulled you inside. “I know.” You simply say, pulling down your hood.

This close proximity with you has his mind and body in shambles. You’re alone with him in his bedroom. Alone. Whatever could happen and if it does, he won’t stop it. He won’t excuse himself again and leave you dejected and disappointed.

“You should leave.” He says and you take a step forward.

“Would it be different between us if I were not a princess?” You ask softly, standing in front of him.

“No, not any closer. I beg you, have mercy on me.” He says while ignoring your question, almost begging and your heart aches.

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have crossed your boundaries.” His own heart aches at the tone of dejection in your voice.

You understand his reluctance to be close to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have decided to come here. You’re putting jing yuan in trouble if anyone saw you at his door. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if something were to happen to him. You look behind him and see his window, there is a cup of water with pink bluebells resting in it. Your heart aches for him. You turn around and were facing the front door in jing yuan’s room and was about to pull the hood over your face, before your entire body gets turned around.

His hands holds your face, he looks at you momentarily before his lips presses down against your own. Your eyes welled up in tears. This felt right. Your arms wrap around his torso, gripping the back of his clothes and you feel his other hand trail down your spine before drawing your body closer to his.

Your breasts flattens against his chest and you wrap your arms around his torso tighter. Your lips move leisurely against each other. He pulls away slightly.

“I’d still follow you around even if you were not a princess. Because I wanted to, not because I’m your bodyguard on duty.” He confesses as he brushes his lips against your jaw, moving up to softly peck the tip of your nose. You hum in content at his kisses while your heart increases its beat at his words. At his answer to your question from before.

He leans in closer again, kissing you. An unhurried kiss, with wants and longings for you, as if the time of the world is in your palms.

Jing Yuan’s lips were soft and smooth against yours. Lips working leisurely against your lips before he angles his head to deepen the kiss. You feel him guide your hands around his neck before he holds your own, for more deeper kisses.

A sweet little noise leaves your mouth when you feel him swipe his tongue over your lips to stroke yours, as if your mouth is molded for him and his kisses. He softly strokes the pulse point below your jaw, the pace of the kiss is slow yet agonizing. You want more of this man.

You feel his hands lift off from your neck, trailing down your spine before gently grasping the back of your thighs through your mantle. As if reflexively, your legs circle around his waist when he lifts you off the ground, pinning you against his front door.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, so is he but he isn’t stopping anytime soon. He presses soft chaste kisses down your jaw, to your pulse point and throat while you go catch your breath.

It is when you feel him lick your shoulder blade that everything comes back to you. He continues to nibble having you softly moaning, before he bites down gently, leaving a slight mark.

“Jing yuan.” The way you call out his name so desperately and so beautifully, he knows you have his entire body and soul bewitched and in the grasp of your palm.

“I love you, I can’t imagine a day not seeing your beautiful smile and ever making you feel sad. I hate myself for it everytime I see you so dejected. When you're in pain, it hurts my heart.” He presses kisses on your throat desperately. You softly whine out his name.

“I love you dearly, my heart. Infinitely.”

—

You’ve been fidgeting the entire day, ever since you saw that there’s another soldier to guard you instead of jing yuan. You pace back and forth in your room before you decide to do something and find him.

Your first thought was to go to the royal court room, your father is usually in there. And when you get there, your fathers guard announces your arrival.

“Father, what happened to—“ you cut yourself off when you see your father looking down at jing yuan. Who was kneeling on one knee in front of your father. Your hearts racing in fear at the sight of man you love in such a vulnerable position in front of your father, the king.

“What is the meaning of this?” You hear your voice waver.

“Do you swear on what you said, son?” Son? Why is your father calling jing yuan that way? Your mind in tatters and you don’t know what to make off the scene in front of you.

“Yes sir, I do.” Jing Yuan answers as he bows his head. And the moment you see the king pull out his sword from his holster, your hearts a mess and you immediately run in front of jing yuan.

“What is the meaning of this?” You repeat your question, your tone belligerent and glaring at your father this time. You grip onto jing yuan from behind you with your left hand, while your other fist clenched by your right side.

“It is alright, my heart.” You hear jing yuan say from behind you, you look away and turn away from your father. “It is alright.” He repeats gently, his eyes are looking all over you with soft glint to them. You shake your head as you kneel in front of jing yuan, holding his face.

“I cant let him hurt you, you didn’t do anything wrong.” There’s tears forming in your eyes and you see jing yuan smile at you, before chuckling a little. He reaches his hands out and gently holds your face as well.

“He won’t hurt me, in fact you just interrupted something, my heart.” He slightly grins at you while stroking your cheeks with each of his thumb. There’s confusion evident on your face and when you look up at your father.

“You have indeed interrupted something, my sweet daughter.” Your father says, his tone has a lighthearted tone to it. You furrow your brows and your father laughs.

“If you don’t mind, please do step away.” He says and you hesitantly step away but not before you give a kiss on jing yuan’s lips. His eyes widens in surprise and when you look at your father again, he seems surprised too at your boldness.

“Don’t hurt him.” Your words are final. And your father seemed to understand it. “I’ve got no intention to do so.” He says before looking at jing yuan again.

“Jing Yuan, soldier of the king's guard. Do you swear to protect the kingdom in case of emergency and war?” Your fathers voice was booming. Your heart races faster when you hear Jing Yuan say he swear and your father taps his sword on his right shoulder. Jing Yuan swears once more at your fathers words and the next thing he says, you clutch the front of your dress and you see Jing Yuan smile as he looks down at the ground.

“And lastly, do you swear to love my daughter, princess of the kingdom, through life and death, every moment of your life?”

“I swear.” You don’t know what you feel aside from relief at the fact jing yuan is not hurt and the way your heart seemed to surge with love for him.

The moment the sword finishes tapping his shoulder, you hastily run up to jing yuan and he hastily holds you into his embrace, his arms tightly wrapped around your body and yours around his neck. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck as you grip onto his hair, as if he’s gonna disappear any moment.

“I love you.” You hear him say. “I can't see spending a single day without you beside me. You’ve seized my entire heart and soul in your bare hands and I wish to never get it back.” Tears fall from your eyes as you nod your head.

You pull away as you nod again, your face full with tears. “Only if you never give back mine.” You say as jing yuan bursts into a slight laughter. “At your request, my heart. I will never.” He voices and you giggle.

He sees your tear stricken but happy face, your lips shaped into your beautiful smile he thinks of every second of the day and you are beautiful. He feels his eyes water, his heart pounds against his chest at the thought of you protecting him when you thought he was in danger. The roles were reversed that moment and he can’t stop loving you. And when you press your lips against his, he feels fulfilled. Fulfilled having you in his arms, where you should be, and being the man you love.

You pull away slightly and he gently kisses your tears away from your face, your eyes closes in content and there’s a smile on your lips. He can’t believe he’s finally your and you’re his.

You place your cheek on jing yuan’s chest and make eye contact with your father. Who’s looking sadly at you two. You pull away from jing yuan and take your father in your arms.

“Thank you, father. You have no idea how happy I am for you to do this.” Your fathers arms wraps around your body. “That’s why I did it, because it makes you happy and that’s all I wanted for my daughter.” His words have you tearing up again.

“I’m having my king's guards after you if you ever hurt her.” Your father says nonchalantly and you swat his chest while he laughs. “I swear on my life I will never.” Jing yuan says with a grin to his face.

—

You flatten out the blanket on the grass on the hill when jing yuan lightly taps your nose, making you lightly giggle resulting in jing yuan flashing you a gentle smile.

“I have something for you.” He simply says and you sit up excitedly. “And it is?” You ask giddily, jing yuan smiles at your excitement in receiving gifts, grand or simple, you love it.

When he reveals your gift, his heart is racing a lot anticipating your reaction. He sees how your eyes widened in surprise, how you look back and forth between him and the gift.

It’s a flower crown made with only pink bluebells and it’s beautiful.

“I tried my best, although it isn’t the best sight to the eye I still hope you like it.” Jing yuan confesses shyly and you giggle. “I love it so much.” You say as you lean in to press a quick grateful kiss on his lips and he hums in content.

“May I, my princess?” He asks and you nod your head. He places the flower crown on your head and views you with gentle eyes.

“You are beautiful, my heart. Never seen anyone more beautiful than you.” He utters with a content sigh and you giggle. “You flatter me too much, my love.” You softly swat his chest and he chuckles.

He reaches his arms out and immediately envelopes you in a hug making you laugh at how quick he was to grab and hold you. He falls back on the blanket with you on top of him, his arms around your waist and your hands on his chest.

You lean down to peck his lips and Jing yuan meets your kiss halfway. When you begin to pull away he makes a discontented noise, and you smile when he lets out a content sound when your lips are on top of his again. You feel his hands trail up your spine to softly hold you by the neck as he softly deepens the kiss. You clutch his clothing on his chest.

After a few more kisses, you pull away to catch your breath and when you look down at Jing yuan below you, he is breathtaking as the sun rays caresses his skin, enhancing his golden eyes and the pink bluebells on the hill is swarming his head like a halo.

You feel his fingers brush the back of your thighs through your dress, tugging on the clothing, urging you to lay on top of him properly. Caging his body in between your thighs and when you do, a love struck smile crosses his face and he looks happy. He gently strokes your thigh and you smile at him.

You have no idea how in the world you started to fall in love with the man beneath you. Along the way from your first meeting, he caught your heart and you’re glad it was him.

“How did you end up in the royal court room with my father?” You ask curiously as jing yuan continues to stroke your thighs.

“He called for me into the royal court room and simply wanted to speak to me about you.” Jing yuan says and you roll your eyes teasingly. “Simply speak to you about me? Whatever for?” You ask again and you see how jing yuan is now hovering over you, caging you in with his thighs, his thighs brushing against your own.

“He found out after the ball and wanted clarification.” Jing yuan answers and you nod in understanding. Then you chuckle and you see how there’s confusion on Jing Yuan's face.

“I’d be lying if I said we were discreet that day.” You tell him and a smile is on his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “We were the most discreet people showing our love for each other.” He delivers it lightheartedly in a sarcastic manner while brushing his nose against yours, making you giggle.

In actuality, jing yuan had a crush on you the moment he saw you from the window watching him from your bedroom. His heart pulled and developed into love for you. But he repressed them as best as he could because of the status of your current situation. Cupping a hand against your cheek, he leans down to meet you in a soft kiss, and he feels you smile into the kiss and he gently squeezes the back of your thigh with his other hand.

And then his hands were atop your hips. He pulls himself in closer against your body and deepens the kiss while squeezing your hips gently. There’s so much ardor and deep affection laced into the kiss, a heat spread across your face and body. Jing Yuan tastes just like the herbal tea he drank and honey cookies.

Suddenly feel a gentle breeze but it’s almost knocking your flower crown off your head and you hastily pull away, laughing as you hold onto your crown while jing yuan holds you by the hips, laughing along with you.

He sits up, bringing you with him and he lifts you up onto his lap by grasping your thighs. You are still holding onto your crown. “You will always have my body and soul, my heart.” He whispers languidly by your ear before pecking your mouth. You cozy yourself closer into jing yuan’s embrace, burying your face into his chest as a love struck smile flashes across your face at his lovely words.

“And you’ll always have mine, my love.”

—

in case you wonder, pink bluebell flowers is the meaning of conveying your feelings of everlasting love :)

if you’ve come this far, a like and a reblog would soo much appreciated hehe <3

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doubledown · 1 year

Text

Yall already know the drill no MLM fetish people as for minors go while I'd prefer you not to interact I cant control what you do

So this is abit of a specific fic for a certain someone ( you know who you are pooks 💕 )

The reader is Latino with a brown complextion feel free to imagine them in whatever shade you want

The reader will be male and masc terms will be used for them

Some Spanish will be in this used in this fic but a translation with be provided so dont worry about havin to go to google translate

This will most likely be around 2 or 3 parts depending on my motivation

ALSO I HAVE NOT WATCHED THE MOVIE so uh if its not like canon him I'm sorry 🧍‍♀️

Degration, Hook up, Hand job, Public Sex, Cheating, S_lf h_rm ( not described implied tho ), HEAVY Voice Kink

HEAVY on criticism. Trying out a new writing style since I noticed that the one I currently due really doesn't stimulate my brain enough which leads to writer's block. SO YEAH LMFAO HAVE FUN ( P.S THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITEEE AND IT IS KINDA LONG SO SEAT BACKK AND ENJOYYYYYYY )🧍‍♀️

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

Your mama says I'm a fool

And yeah, maybe that's true 'cause I can't

stop thinkin' 'bout you

I'm tryin'

I'm tryin' not to forget my words

'Cause when I'm around you, I tend to keep

changin' my mind

Miguel murmered as the smell of heavy whiskey and cheap liquor crowded around him. He wasn't a drinker at all. He hadn't even thought about it. Well.....not until today. Everything was just going to shit. So he figured he drown himself in something other then self destruction and exhaustion. At least this would kill his worries for awhile after all what's the point of multiverse travel if you couldn't do somewhere where you were unknown? A place you could simply escape without anybody finding you or judging you for your actions. Nobody to put a strong and dominate front for. Just simply unknown and out of touch. " What's on your mind to drink tonight? " The bartender asked abit of a friendly smile on his face. Miguel honestly didn't know what to choose so he just said the first brand of liquor that came to mind. " Just a few shots of fireball.." He said resting his arms on the bar. " Alright hot shot your drinks will be ready in abit. " The bartender said quickly soon off to go take other orders while simultaneously making drinks. He couldn't say he wasn't impressed in all honesty but he had seen it done by failedly by parker. He always tended to try things that really didn't suit him. The bartender looked up and Miguel heart almost sunk in his chest when he spoke. " Buyin a drink or did ya miss me y/n? " The bartender asked leaning over the bar giving a peck on the lips to you.

He couldn't look. He wouldn't look. Yet the gentle rumble in your voice was something that always had a hold on him. " Why not both? " You teased catching onto your lover's lip in your teeth before letting go with a smirk. " You know what I like cariño. " [ darling/dear ] Cariño. Cariño Cariño Cariño Cariño...Even after years away from each other the word still made him his heart burn. Just the way your accent just drove him mad was something that he couldn't even begin to explain. Yet he knew it wasn't his place to feel that way nor right. You two were seperated now. But he wished that things had gone very differently.

" Miguel......Surprised to see you here. " You said your tone neutral but he could feel the hiss of anger in your eyes. You two broke up on a rather...messy note. Things were just too much and miguel wasn't excatly helping with being fuckin spider man and shit. You didn't- No. You couldn't do it. You weren't gonna live in fear that somebody may one day hurt you because they may have followed him home or some shit. So you suggested he retire from doing the whole superhero thing. And he didn't at all take it well. The two of you argued about it for days which turned into weeks. Things were said and one thing led to the other and soon you two weren't even remotely related anymore. He choose people he didn't even know over you. And it stung like hell. But you moved on and forward. And to see him in such a low state....it....it messed with you abit. It brought back some things that you really wished you had buried lower..

" Y/N. It's nice to see you again. " He said with a small smile. You had always been rather...eye pleasing to put it appropriately. Everything just fit so perfectly on you. Every feature on your face to every hair on you head was completely and utterly put together so...Intoxicatingly. And your voice....fuck your voice.... " Ah Im guessin you guys have past? " The voice of your lover pulled him away before his thoughts had a chance to tip off. " Yeah. He's an old friend. " You said simply without bothering to look at the other man. You already you tired from work and really didnt want want to deal with your partner gettin all pissy that your ex is here. " Just a shot of jack daniels Mí Corazón. " you purred. [ My heart ] You knew what your voice did to Miguel. You know what you could gain from him just with a few soft I love yous or just simply saying his name the way he liked. He was a slut for words. Literally. And you had no sympthay for him left in you to care. After all it seemed more like a personal problem then anything. Sucks to suck.

You sat down next to Miguel resting you arms on the bar slightly leaning just enough for that slight arch in your back to show. It was wrong you knew that. Quietly seducing your ex while your partner was right in front of you. But after all you had to return the favor. Finding those texts from all those different guys. You wondered how many times he had fucked some guy while on shift. More importantly how many of them were here now. Miguel was weak when it came to you. He always had been. And the way he shifted in his seat when ever you spoke or the way he seemed so dazzedly focused on your features only proved that he still was a little whore for you. But you weren't gonna simply just give him what he wanted. No. That be too merciful. He needed to beg. Like bitch in heat. He needed to beg like fucking him was a need. Like he couldn't survive without you stuffing him full of what he knew craved.

Miguel cleared his throat and diverted his eyes to his drink as the bartender brough back his drink. " I didn't know you were into liquor. " You said with abit of a curious tone. When did he start drinking?? He always had hated the smell of alcohol at least you thought he did. He used to get onto you about drinking all the time goin on and on about how it could mess up your liver and such. Yet here he was puttin his feelings into a cup. Crazy how things change. " And I thought you didn't fall under stress. " He muttered taking drinking it down in a quick motion. He gagged slightly before swallowing a rather displeasing look on his face. " What? The bite too much for you amor? " [ Love ] You snarked a teasing smile on your face. " No. It's just stronger then what I'm used to. " He mumbled clearly embarrassed by his own reaction. The wound between you too was still fairly fresh. Even more unattended then you both thought. The dismissed jab from Miguel only just proved it.

You swished your drink around not even really wantin it in all honesty. It just felt all surreal and awkward having him around. It just didn't feel natural anymore. And you hated it so fuckin much. Your thoughts were brought out by your rather oblivious boyfriend giving you a kiss on the forehead. " Hey sorry to interrupt you in your space but I gotta head out for a bit. A friend from work needs help movin some furniture. " He said with a smile. " Don't worry about the bar ken is already gettin ready for his shift. " He continued giving you a finally peck before leaving. So that's how he did it. He made a lame ass excuse and left before he could be asked questions. Huh. It was the only thought that came into your mind. At this point feelin guilty was out of the picture entirely. After all if he could go have fun why couldn't you.

You leaned up slightly your left hand grazing the other's thigh as he stiffened. He looked at you confusedly and you simply looked at him for permission. You had always been abit of a fan for open things. It obviously took him a minute to realize what you wanted to do and the clear surprise look on his face almost made you laugh. Yet odd enough he moved his seat abit closer to you despite it. " Hm. Seems like somebody missed old times. " You hummed to yourself teasing his cock through his jeans. He shifted in his seat as he rested his hand on his forehead trying his hardest not to thrust up for attention. You slowly but carefully unzipped his jeans and the entire time the poor man was figiting in his seat. " Desperate much? " You murmed loosely as you teased the head of his swollen cock.

He huffed sharply as he shifted his weight toward your as you wrapped your pretty hands around his cock and pumped it at a rather fast pace. A small whimper came from his throat as you stroked him precum dripping as your pace became relentless. He put his head down on the bar ledge his one hand covering his mouth trying so hard to quiet his soft rambles of pleasure. He twitched and pulsed as what seemed like hours to him as his responses simply got harder and harder to hide. At this point he was pratically mind numb with pleasure and being a whiny mess of a man. Yet you weren't done with your pretty boy just yet. Things were simply getting started.

#dom male reader #sub character #sub miguel o'hara #top male reader #male y/n #dom reader #submissivecharacter #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #lowkeywannabendhimover #LOLENJOYY #YesIdidleaveyallonacliffhangersorrynotsorry🤞🙄/j/lh

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amhrosina · 2 years

Text

Bad Dreams (Hold Me Closer) - Frank Castle x f!Reader x Matt Murdock

A/N: The first time I posted this, it somehow deleted every person I tagged AND half of my fic lmfao anyways lets try this again?? Also, is this not the most SUBMISSIVE gif of Matt Murdock ever??? A big thank you to my lovely beta reader @wheredidiputmyfish <333

Find the rest of my poly!Frank/Reader/Matt fics here!

Summary: When Frank is haunted by his worst nightmare, you and Matt must help him through it, even if that means having some fun in the shower to cope.

(Warnings: pretty much every smut warning applies, p in v, oral (male receiving), hand jobs, lots of things happening with cum??, facials (!!!!!!!), delayed gratification, denied orgasms, choking, also angsty as hell at the beginning, Frank and Matt are boyfriends!!!!, this is so self-indulgent, i had to ask a mutual to make sure it wasn't too dirty, probs forgot some lmfao)

Frank Castle was a brave man – he was dauntless, and intense, and extraordinarily unafraid, and it was because of this bravery, because he was exceptional as a Marine, a protector, that he had never experienced the fear that was now eating him alive. It was a confusing situation for Frank, to say the least, who was willing to bet he’d experienced more danger than most of the population.

Each time he’d been deployed, he’d expected it. Fear was a natural response to being sent halfway across the world on dangerous, top-secret missions. He saw it in his military brothers’ eyes, felt it oozing off his wife and kids every time he had to say goodbye, but it never visited him, and he was glad of it.

When Maria and his kids were killed, fear was a luxury only time could’ve afforded him. It had happened quickly, so fast that even Frank hadn’t been able to assess how dire the situation was before losing consciousness, and when he awoke days later to a group of sympathetic nurses who broke the news of his dead wife and dead kids, fear was nowhere to be found. A rageful vengeance overwhelmed him, and it would be years before it subsided long enough for him to grieve.

Frank Castle was a brave man, until he met you – until he met Matt and fell in love with the both of you. He wasn’t the same man he’d been when he fought for his country, and he certainly wasn’t the same man he’d been when he lost his family. He was entirely too aware of the world’s horrors now, and the thought of either you or Matt experiencing them made his stomach turn.

He tried to hide it – the fear that overwhelmed his senses so thoroughly that it paralyzed him – and he would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for Matt’s keen hearing. Or so he thought.

A firm, warm hand on your shoulder brought you out of your slumber. The gentle caress of Matt’s touch was a welcome feeling, but when you fluttered your eyes awake and took in the darkness surrounding you, you blinked at him in confusion. It was hours before any of you had to be up for the day, and the furrow in his brow made it clear he wasn’t waking you out of carnal desire.

“Matty, what's-”

He shushed you, nodding toward the sleeping figure on your other side.

“His heart rate.” Matt swallowed thickly, furrowing his brow further, “It’s pounding. I’ve never- He's never-”

Matt shook his head, panting. You eyed Frank’s sleeping form, which had twisted itself in the sheets so thoroughly that it looked claustrophobic. His breath stuttered out of him at an erratic pace, and you moved toward him before your sleep addled brain could warn you against it.

It was risky, you realized, to wake an ex-Marine so abruptly, especially at a time like this, no matter how much time had passed since his official discharge. This thought rang through your mind like a bell as Frank flipped you on your back and brought his hand to your throat, squeezing hard enough to maintain control, but not so hard that you couldn’t breathe. A warning, mostly sleep induced, but a warning, nonetheless. Matt was instantly beside you, trying to pry Frank’s hands away from your neck.

“Hang on, Matt.” You murmured, searching Frank’s face for recognition. You knew Matt could easily shove Frank off the bed, but you wanted to try a gentler approach first.

The man who stared down at you wasn’t the man you’d fallen in love with, and the murderous glare on his face was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Sweetheart.” Matt warned, though he had stopped trying to pull Frank away from you.

“Frankie, baby.” You cooed, “It’s me, honey. It’s me and Matty.”

His grip on your throat tightened slightly, the only indication that your plea was heard. Matt looked like he was going to be sick.

“Frankie.” You tried again as a tear slid down your temple. “You’re safe, baby, and you’re loved. We love you. Wake up, honey.”

Frank blinked, furrowing his brow. He glanced around the room, taking in your alarmed expression, the tenseness radiating from Matt, and the hand that he still had wrapped around your throat. The tightness around your neck eased, and Matt visibly relaxed as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fra-”

He threw himself backwards, off the bed and onto the hard floor, the thump of his rough landing echoing across the room. Frank barreled backwards as if his dreams had followed him into the real world, and if it weren’t for Matt’s agility, he might have crawled directly through the bedroom door.

Matt sank to the floor, grasping at Frank’s shaking hands. Frank leaned against the door, eyes shifting back and forth as panic overtook his body. You couldn’t hear like Matt could, but you’d be willing to bet Frank’s heart was thundering in his chest. You inched closer to them, unsure if crowding Frank was the best thing to do.

“Breathe, honey.” Matt murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Frank’s fingers. He cradled Frank’s hands to his chest, pressing until he was sure Frank could feel his steady heartbeat. “Breathe.” Matt’s voice left no room for argument. He wasn’t requesting – he was demanding.

Frank obliged, focusing on the rise and fall of Matt’s chest as he finally caught his breath. He reached a hand toward you, beckoning you closer until he could grasp your hand, squeezing it as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

The room dissolved into silence, and you waited for Matt to indicate something, anything about Frank’s inner turmoil. He still cradled Frank’s hand into his chest, and a sorrowful expression rested on his face.

“Honey?” Matt whispered, barely loud enough to register, almost as if he was afraid of scaring Frank. “Are you okay?”

Frank pulled his arms back into himself, wrapping them around his midsection as he hunched forward. A self-soothe if you’d ever seen one.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You shook your head at him, grabbing his hands. “Don’t shut us out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Matt asked, placing a tentative hand on Frank’s thigh.

“I’m-” he started, and you held your breath as he searched for the right words. “It’s not- I'm fine.”

You studied the positions everyone had ended up in. Frank was in a hunched sitting position, leaning against the closed bedroom door. You were on his left, squeezing his hands into your chest. Matt was on Frank’s right, rubbing soothing circles into Frank’s leg. You arched an eyebrow at Frank. He was clearly not fine.

“I’m fine.” He insisted, urging you to drop it. “It was just a bad dream.”

You let out a slow breath, weighing the risk of what you were about to say in your head. “You attacked me in your sleep when I touched you, Frank. You’re not fine.”

Your tone was gentle. You hadn’t wanted to impose more guilt onto Frank, only to point out the lie for what it was, but Frank’s face crumpled at your statement all the same.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” His eyes welled with tears, and he angled your chin as he assessed the damage done to your throat. You didn’t think he had choked you hard enough to bruise. In fact, you were certain he had choked you harder during one of many games played with Matt. You tried to salvage the conversation before the guilt ate him alive.

“I’m okay, Frankie. You didn’t hurt me. See? I’m fine.” Frank ran a finger down the column of your throat. “But you’re not fine, baby.”

You shifted yourself closer to his figure, wishing he could see the tenderness that ached in your chest for him. Matt spoke before you could gather your thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“It’s okay to be afraid, honey, but don’t be afraid of us.”

You nodded along silently, trusting Matt to navigate through the minefield that was Frank’s psyche.

“It’s not-” Frank shook his head, swallowing thickly, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of something. I can taste it in the air around you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

You didn’t speak, didn’t move as he laid himself bare for the both of you to see. Matt tilted his head, bobbing his chin in a slight nod – an encouraging gesture for Frank to keep talking.

“I can’t,” he paused, shuttering, “I can’t do that again. I lost Maria and I lost my kids, and I thought my life was over. I had nothing else to lose, so I didn’t have anything to be afraid of. But then you two showed up, and made me care, and now I have something so precious to lose, and I can’t do that again.”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. “You won’t lose us, Frankie. We’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor.

“I know that we’re here now, and that we love you.” Tears blurred your vision, and this time you let them fall. “And the rest of it is up to fate or the universe or whatever.”

Matt cleared his throat, and for the first time since he’d awoken, a small smile formed on Frank’s lips.

“Or God,” you chuckled, “or whatever.”

Matt nodded at your amendment, shifting closer to Frank. “You can’t be afraid to live, Frank. Don’t torture yourself over things you can’t control.”

“I wasn’t afraid until I met both of you.” He shrugged.

“I know.” Matt bobbed his chin. “I see you, remember?”

“That’s sort of funny, coming from a-”

“Frank!” You yelped, but Matt’s face had morphed into a feline grin. You rolled your eyes, biting your lip so you wouldn’t laugh at Frank’s awful excuse of a joke.

“Someone’s feeling better.”

“I’m feeling sweaty.” Frank corrected, rising to his feet. “I need a shower. Care to join me?”

—-----

A heavy fog hung over the bathroom as the steam from the piping hot shower coated every available surface. Frank had thrown off his clothes and jumped into the large walk-in space quickly, and you’d be willing to bet it was so he could process all the emotions he’d just experienced without any interruptions.

You and Matt hung back for a few minutes, whispering your concerns under hurried breaths.

“Do you think he’s okay?” You asked, pulling your shirt over your head.

“I think he’s been feeling these things for a while and hoped we wouldn’t notice.” Matt wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. He sighed and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Do you think he’ll-” The thought was difficult to put into words. You didn’t like verbalizing something so terrible. “Do you think he’ll leave if he can’t move past the fear?”

“No.” Matt’s voice held a resounding firmness that eased the tension in your shoulders. “He wouldn’t leave us, sweetheart. He loves us too much for that.” You couldn’t decide who Matt was trying to convince more – himself or you.

Warmth encompassed you when you stepped into the shower, sending a wave of goosebumps up your spine. Your nipples perked at the heat – something Frank immediately registered. A lusty glaze overtook his stoic expression. You sent him a coy smile in return. You’d do anything he asked you to do, if only to give him the control he desperately clung to.

Matt followed behind you, shuffling against your back as you nuzzled into Frank’s chest. Water sprayed over Frank’s shoulder, soaking the three of you while you held each other close. Frank placed a hand at the base of both of your necks, and a fuzzy feeling blanketed the anxiety you had been feeling minutes before.

You looked over his features. His eternally furrowed brow, the big nose that you and Matt adored even though he hated it, the hard cut of his jawline. He was so pretty, and you loved him, you loved him, you loved him. He looked down, meeting your wandering gaze.

“When you look at me like that, baby,” he hummed, tugging you against his increasingly hard length, “It drives me fucking crazy.”

You hazily blinked at him, smiling. “I’ve spent my entire life looking for you. Both of you.”

A softness that was only reserved for you and Matt crossed Frank’s face, and for a moment, the only things you cared about in the entire world were the two men enveloping you in their arms. You lifted your chin toward Frank, ghosting a kiss over his lips before nestling your cheek against his broad chest.

Frank looked from you to Matt, who had situated himself behind you, focusing on the way your body vibrated against his chest every time you spoke. A cocky smirk was plastered on his face, daring Frank to do something about it, and Frank was never one to back down from a dare.

He surged forward, careful not to knock you off balance, and pressed his lips to Matt’s in a bruising kiss. Matt met him with equal force, shoving his tongue into Frank’s mouth and whimpering, whimpering, when Frank wrapped his hand around the column of his throat. You tried to ignore the pounding of your core as they kissed over you and could only let out a soft whine when one of Matt’s hands snuck around your waist and began rubbing tight circles around your clit.

Frank broke away from the kiss, wide-eyed and panting. You leaned your head back onto Matt’s shoulder, gasping when you saw how achingly hard Frank was. You moved before you were fully aware of what you were doing.

You barely felt the thump of your knees hitting the shower floor, barely registered the curse that came out of Frank’s mouth as you wrapped your mouth around his cock. Matt’s stunted groan merged with Frank’s when you turned your head and did the same thing to Matt.

“Did you like seeing us kiss, Kitten? Is that what has you so needy for our cocks?” Frank cooed. You stroked both of them off as you met his gaze. Heat flooded your core at his tone, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how incredibly turned on you were if Matt hadn’t uttered his next words so pathetically.

“I want to taste him, too.”

You paused your movements, smiling up at Frank, whose cock twitched in your hand.

“Come taste him, Matty.” You stroked Matt’s cock one last time before tugging on his hand, “You want him to taste you, right Frankie? Can Matty taste you?”

Frank bit his lip in an attempt to smother the moan that crawled out of his throat at your question. A stunted groan lodged itself in Frank’s chest as Matt dropped to his knees, mouth already open and ready to be fucked. The first lick up the underside of Frank’s cock weakened his knees. He didn’t think he deserved this kind of treatment, but Matt was eager to please, and began sucking him off so perfectly that Frank swore he saw stars behind his eyelids.

You and Matt took turns, licking and sucking and kissing Frank’s achingly hard cock, and Frank, the poor bastard, quickly became putty in your hands. He was convinced that if he died in this exact position, with you and Matt so desperate for his cum, he’d die a happy man.

He couldn’t help it. He started thrusting into Matt's mouth, and the first time Matt swallowed around Frank’s cock, which was lodged so deeply down his throat that he definitely wasn’t breathing, Frank almost fell to his knees. It was a wonder he lasted as long as he did.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come. ‘M gonna come. Shit. Fu-”

Matt pulled away from Frank’s cock, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. A mirror image of you, sitting pretty and ready to be soaked, and that image was enough to bring Frank Castle to his fucking knees. He fell against the shower wall, groaning loudly as he came all over the two perfect faces in front of him.

Then, he promptly blacked out. The only thing he could focus on was the twitching of his cock every time another rope of cum shot out of it. The entire world faded around him, and when he finally re-entered his body and opened his eyes, the sight of Matt’s tongue down your throat almost sent him into cardiac arrest.

“Tastes so good, baby.” You mumbled against Matt’s lips, though the comment was clearly for Frank’s benefit. Matt groaned in agreement. Frank’s cock twitched with desire.

“Please,” Frank begged, palming his sensitive cock, “Please, don’t stop.”

You and Matt obliged him. Matt swung you around, pressing your spine into the shower wall and hiking your leg around his waist. His lips didn’t leave yours as he slid the tip of his cock through your folds, testing your readiness. And shit, you were so ready.

A steady ache had been building in your core since you’d stepped into the shower earlier, so much so that your inner thighs were coated in your slickness. Matt’s groan as he thrusted in, and in, and in, was downright sinful, tugging at the fire brewing in your gut. You stretched around him, gasping when he nudged against the soft tissue connected to every nerve ending in your body.

“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so tight.” Matt grunted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The sight of Matt sliding in and out of your wet cunt was met with a wicked groan from Frank, who sidled closer to your panting figure. You latched a hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. Your orgasm was fast approaching, and it was going to be a big one. Frank’s lustful gaze was enough to make anyone crazy, but combined with Matt’s rough pounding against your core, you were pretty sure the Earth was about to shift beneath your feet.

“Like what you see, Frank?” Matt teased, smirking as you squeezed around him.

“Shut the fuck up, Red.” Frank grunted, stroking himself at the same rhythm that Matt was grinding into you.

“You’re both so pretty.” You breathed, whining as Matt quickened his pace. “Oh, shi-”

“Don’t come yet, sweetheart. Not until I say so.” Matt was trading off between whispering in your ear and sucking on the spot right below it. His hand made a slow ascent to your neck, wrapping around the column of your throat and lightly squeezing. If he was trying to get you to hold off on coming, he was doing a shitty job of it. “Can you wait, pretty girl? Hmmm?”

You groaned, looking to Frank for help, but his slack jaw and stuttering breaths told you that you were on your own. He was captivated by the sight of Matt slamming in and out of your wet cunt and only shushed you when you tried to get his help.

“Fuck, Matty.” You whined, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Beg for it, and maybe we’ll let you come, Kitten.”

“Oh, shit. Please, please, please, can I come? Please, can I? Haven’t I been a good girl tonight? Please let me come.”

Tears sprung free, streaming down your face. You held your breath, focusing on everything but the fact that Matt was deep inside you. Matt’s smirk slipped as you squeezed around him again, and you gasped when he hit the spot in you that would normally send you into the stratosphere.

“It’s up to Frank, baby.” he muttered, gritting his teeth as you squeezed around him again. It was his kryptonite, and you knew it. Two could play that game, Mr. Murdock.

You shuttered as Frank rubbed his thumb over your lips, contemplating how long you might last like this, how pretty you’d look coming on Matty’s cock. You were on the brink of sobbing, begging for any kind of relief when he lowered his hand and pressed it against the hand Matt still had wrapped around your throat.

“You wanna come, pretty girl?” Frank cooed. His breath shuttered against your cheek, and you realized just how close he was to coming as well.

“Yes!” you cried, panting through the pleasure-born tears, “Yes, please.”

“All you had to do was ask, Kitten.” He smirked, gripping your throat tighter. “Come, sweet girl. Be a good girl. Come around Red’s cock.”

The tiny thread of control you had left snapped at his words, sending a steady stream of fire throughout your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut, rocking against Matt’s body as your orgasm pulsed through you. Warmth filled your cunt, and you vaguely registered Matt coming deep inside you, vaguely heard Frank curse as he came for the second time. You weren’t entirely sure you were breathing by the end of it. The tightness around your throat loosened, and you felt the pad of Frank’s thumbs wiping the tears that had gathered on your cheeks.

You gasped in air, sagging against Frank, who pulled you off your feet and into his arms. He held you close to his chest and stepped out of the long-forgotten shower, forgoing drying off completely as he laid you down on the end of the bed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Matt followed close behind, though he had made the wise decision to grab a towel before exiting the bathroom.

“Mmmm.” You mumbled, snuggling into the soft sheets. The bedroom held a dim glow, lit only by the early morning light. If you strained your ears, you could hear the beginnings of the workday in New York City. Taxis, subway trains, bodega gates – New York was waking up.

As if it were waiting for the perfect time to make itself known, your stomach grumbled loudly, earning you the soft chuckles of your favorite boys. Frank pulled the towel from Matt’s hips, earning him a swift smack on the chest, and hurriedly dried himself.

“I’m hungry.” You mumbled, matter-of-factly.

“We can tell.” Frank grinned, pulling you to your feet. You reached for a fresh towel, drying yourself before pulling on one of Frank’s old T-shirts.

“I’ll make the bacon if you make the eggs. And Matty, you just sit there and look pretty. Deal?” You asked, padding toward the bedroom door.

“Deal.” Frank smiled and followed you into the kitchen, tugging Matt behind him.

Tag List:

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henneseyhoe · 1 year

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Pillow Talk.

Coyote x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS:short lovey dovey fluff and both of y’all being absolute simps lmfao.

SUMMARY: basically just you pillow talking with your husband after your anniversary dinner.-

Ps. This wasn’t originally a fic, just something that was cute but I wanted to add a fc so why not pick my mannn

✮✮✮✮

“You know I’ve never loved anybody like I love you?” A smile grows on the woman’s face as she lays on the bed with her husband, throwing her leg across his hip. “And everyday I find a different type of love for you” Hearing him go on, she looks up from his golden pendant that hung from his neck, her eyes attempting to avoid all eye contact. “Don’t do this right now” she groans, her hands covering her face to hide her wide smile.

They had just ended their night after a busy day together, enjoying the anniversary of their wedding. Even after seven years of marriage, and fifteen years of knowing each other, he still made her stomach fill with butterflies.

He made her feel giddy, and shy when just neutral the minute before, and he’d always point it out just to make matters worse, especially if they were in public. She always thought she lucked out when it came to him, and she was right. He was everything she could have asked for in a husband. Even when he got upset, he was gentle and always tried to be aware of her feelings, taking in everything she had to say before speaking his mind, and still giving her the space and respect she wanted. He just adored her in every way. His goal was to make sure she was always comfortable.

His favorite thing about the relationship was that it wasn’t one sided. She cared for him like he cared for her. She was everything he could ever want and if you asked him yourself, he’d tell you exactly that, followed by numerous compliments about her and how she was too good for him.

“Cut it out, I’m serious! I feel like you don’t ever take me seriously when I say that randomly, but I want you to understand that I mean it” he says, pulling her closer to his chest and kissing her lips softly. She smiles against his lips, then pulls away. “I do! I knew you meant it from the day we married” he raises a brow before laughing. “Not from the day I first said it?” He asks, the woman smirking. “…I had to make sure I had you locked in for life first” they both laugh.

Calming down from their fit, she sighs. “On a serious note, I’m grateful for a love like yours. Even though you have a thing for trying to make me blush all the damn time” she playfully rolls her eyes.

Chuckling, he put a hand up in defense.“never knew it was a crime to sweeten my girl up every now and then, my bad”

“Every now and then? More like every day”

he shrugs.

“I just like seeing you smile. You being happy makes me happy”

She smiles again, those same familiar butterflies appearing in her stomach.

“…Well, you make me so, so, so happy. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. You treat me too good, you know that?” Before he speaks, she shushes him with her finger. “Hold on, I’m not done. Though you feel like what you do isn’t enough, I think it is. Just knowing that you genuinely love and enjoy everything about me is enough. Even the annoying things”

He cracks a grin against her finger, then moves it from his lips. “You…are so obsessed with me!” he brags in a joking manner, loud laughter escaping his wives mouth. She playfully hits his chest and leans up off of their pillows. “Boy, please! This coming from the man that would try to buy the moon for me if I asked for it”

“The moon? Baby, I’d buy the whole damn solar system”

#greg tarzan davis #top gun fluff #javy coyote machado #coyote #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #black actors #fanfic #henneseyhoe

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koohito · 1 year

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HABITS | AKI HAYAKAWA

tags: GN!reader, SMOKING, mild sensual acts (not really, heavy kissing), aki and reader sharing a cigarette (quite literally) 𓁹‿𓁹ʰᵉʰᵉ

wc: 964

a/n: TYSM FOR THE HUNDRED LIKES ON MY FIRST FIC! on the other hand, this was rushed. i was jus gonna label their cigarette marlboro but my brain literally decided to research the exact brand aki/himeno uses in the manga lmfao. also, this aki was based off of this delicious, scrumptious, world breaking artwork! on a serious note, this is a work of FICTION! all events happened here is based on IMAGINARY WORK! i beg of you to not try this at home(or anywhere)! smoking kills (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀)

“But I’ve never seen you smoke before.”

His face contorts in mild confusion, causing Aki’s forehead to crease. Meanwhile, you stayed seated in your chair, shifting your weary gaze away from the laptop screen to him, as if longing for the cigarette. You raise your forearm, appearing to be giving him the peace sign with your index and middle fingers but really only needing the cigarette.

“I smoke occasionally,” you admitted, offering him a restrained smile. “Now, sir, if you would be so kind as to grace me with one stick and leave me be while I finish this godforsaken paper that is due today.” You melodramatically say, grinning in his direction, just in case he needed an extra nudge to hand over the cigarette.

He walks over to you and shamelessly leans his lower back against your study table, quite literally next to your laptop. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aki retorts, lowering his gaze towards you. His ambivalent tone doesn’t go unnoticed as he shifts his weight onto his arms, leaning back even further. “I genuinely have no idea.”

Uncertain whether to offer an apology or find amusement in his perplexed expression at this newfound information, you opt for the former. “I’m sorry,” an airy chuckle escapes you. “Also, um, it’s because you never asked, and I don’t mean any offense by that.” With a gentle tap on his knee, you continue, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s so rare that I even forget sometimes.”

Aki just..blinks, and you’re ready to apologize again in case he thinks you’re playing with him. But then he retrieves his bronze cigarette holder from his pocket, revealing a single Mevius stick and a lighter. Oh.. shoot. Silently, you observe him through your lashes as he secures the cigarette between his lips. The flicker of fire from his lighter sends a peculiar sensation tingling through your cheeks. Aki locks his gaze onto you, taking a quick drag as the smoke escapes from the corner of his mouth, it makes you unconsciously sink back to your chair.

“You want it??"

Yes, i want you. You bite the inside of your cheek, breaking eye contact as you stare directly on your laptop screen in front of you. “I changed my mind, it’s fine,” you decline through gritted teeth. Suddenly, it feels hot—your back and arms tingle, your throat going dry and hoarse, the drumming of your chest picking up a new pace. You don’t understand; it’s not like you haven’t seen him smoke this close before. Wait, now that you think about it, you haven’t actually seen Aki smoking at such proximity. That doesn’t make sense. You steal a quick glance, perhaps because he lets his hair down, accentuating his jawline and high cheekbones instead of his usual top-knot, and you have an urge to run your fingers through them. Maybe it’s the way he firmly folds his left shirt sleeve and his bicep contracts. Possibly.

Two buttons came undone on his shirt now that you’re actually deliberately staring at him. And, of course, he catches your line of sight.

Aki grins to himself.

He takes another long drag on his cigarette, allowing the smoke to cool in his mouth before pulling your chair closer to him. A momentary shock registers within you as he leans in, grabbing you by the nape and slots his mouth against yours. You tightly close your eyes.

There it is, you feel it. Not even a minute passes, and you feel the cooling sensation spreading on your tongue. Of course, he smokes a fucking menthol-flavored cigarette, you mentally note. Just when you think he’s finished with his ministrations, for some diabolical reason, Aki places the cigarette butt between your mouths and inhales briefly before expelling the remaining substance he’s gotten directly onto you. It trickles onto your tongue, down your throat, offering a cold and soothing feeling that reaches your lungs. Fuck. Everything is in whirl, igniting something in the depths of your chest that you never knew was there. You feel hot, your neck burning, but you pay no heed as you clutch onto his shirt, pressing yourself closer to him, desperate to taste his mouth.

Aki pulls you up from your chair, swiftly switching positions and pressing you against the table. He cups your ass, settling you onto the study table, spreading your thighs so he could stand between them. His tongue, hot and heavy, dances with yours, and a soft moan escapes from the back of your throat. You arch into his touch when he glides a finger along your spine. You thread your fingers through his hair in response, letting yourself immerse in the heated kiss before you nibble on his lower lip, sucking it until he lets out a ragged groan.

“Just so you’re aware,” he breaks off the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. Catching your breaths together would be an understatement as strings of saliva linger on your chin when he lightly squeezes your face, causing your sapped lips to pucker. “I’m not gonna be the reason you develop any kind of lung cancer, so I try to stop myself from smoking almost every time you’re around,” Aki tells you groggily, as if he hears your dilemma from a while ago and your heart constricts warmly. “So, don’t blame me if you suddenly cough up fucking phlegm tomorrow if you’re this greedy catching smoke from my mouth.”

“I won’t.” Fuck, I wanna kiss him again.

“Now, finish that godforsaken paper of yours immediately and come with me in bed,” Aki finishes off the cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you this time. “Or not, you’re a minute past your submission anyway.” He dismisses, brushing his thumb lightly on your jaw as he leans in for another kiss.

Worse comes to worst, emailing your professor and making up some shit excuse for an extension should do you the trick... right?

#aki x reader #aki hayakawa x y/n #aki x y/n #aki hayawaka #chainsaw man #aki x you #aki smoking #aki smut #aki hayakawa smoking #aki hayakawa smut

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blkkizzat · 10 months

Text

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙚𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙫 𝘼𝙡𝙩 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠 ♡

₊˚⊹♡

FOOT JOBS ft. Suguru Geto x Reader m.list

summary: Suguru loves your feet and you are about to find out just how much. ♡

cw: foot jobs, dirty talk, slight dubcon, slight femdom, cum eating, Suguru being freak nasty. a/n: everyone be proud of me because the first time ever I promised I would release a fic on a day and it came out on that day. Look at god bitch, it's a miracle, lmfao. wc: 1.7k slightly black fem coded, no descriptors

Suguru is a freak. This should be a surprise to no one.

There’s a lot of kinky shit this man is into. However not wanting to scare you away he will gently ease you into his profound depravities as the relationship progresses.

When it came to feet It's not like it was hard for you to figure out Suguru was partial to yours. As a good boyfriend Suguru paid for all your manis and pedis but he was always giving you extra to be sure you got the upgraded spa pedicure too. When you got home he never missed the opportunity to give compliments on how good the colors looked on your pretty toes to contrast your skin, how soft your feet were, etc.

However his bigger kink revelations always caught you off guard as they stemmed from the most innocent interactions.

You learned Suguru liked foot jobs from simply brushing his hair.

You and Suguru often found yourselves in this position. You were sitting on the sofa with Suguru situated between your legs on the floor in front of you while you brushed through his pristine locks after a wash day.

Suguru brings his arms over your legs to wrap around him, pulling them into his lap.

Content with this position, he will occasionally give your legs affectionate pats and lean down to place chaste kisses on your knees while you watch TV together.

You giggle from the tickle of his kisses.

Times like this were a happy place for you and you hummed contently as you continued brushing his hair not realizing this time your pretty freshly manicured toes were also brushing against Suguru’s cock.

Suguru on the other hand noticed right away and his hands flexed into fists over his knees as he tried not to be turned on by your innocent movements.

Yet the soft caress of your feet over his bulge with the gentle hum of your voice was slowly driving him crazy with need.

Suguru has little to no willpower when it comes to you so he isn’t able to hold back for long at all.

You gasped dropping the brush to the floor when you felt the soles of your feet being pressed against his bulge. Suguru was forcing your feet to cup his fully bricked up dick over his sweats.

Surprised, you jerk back instinctively but your legs and feet are kept firmly in place by Suguru’s massive hands around your ankles.

Suguru leans his head back into your lap to look up at you, his long hair splaying across your bare thighs. He may have been looking at you upside down right now but his fiery eyes full of lust pierce you all the same, sending a familiar heat into your belly.

The cute peaceful moment of watching tv and pampering your boyfriend ruined because your boyfriend now decided he wanted his cock pampered by your feet.

Seeing you deadpan, Suguru quickly turns needy.

Yet, Suguru in depravity mode is anything but whiney.

His voice is seductive, low and husky. The slow drawl of his words when he begs you never fails to make you wet.

“Please baby. You’ll do this for me, right Y/N?”

Not waiting for your reply Suguru releases shallow breaths while rubbing both your feet down his length, pressing down gently to curve your feet to mold even more against the shape of his cock.

“Need to feel those pretty tootsies wrap around my cock, babe.”

You can feel him twitching beneath your feet as the heat of his cock radiated through his sweats.

As much as you may initially balk at his kinks, you can’t deny how attracted you are to him when he is trying to coax you into doing something absolutely filthy.

Suguru’s eyes dramatically lull back into his head and his lips part a bit wider to release a moan when he feels you flex your foot against his cock of your own will. He wants you to know just how much he needs this.

You smile down at him, giving in to his pleas but with conditions.

“Fine Sugu, but you're taking me to get another pedicure tomorrow.”

Those were more than acceptable terms to Suguru and no sooner than you uttered “Fine” Suguru had already pulled back his sweats to free his aching cock from its confines.

His veiny length sprang back up to hit his stomach.

“Someone’s eager I see.”

You muse watching the way Suguru’s girthy red tip was already leaking as it swayed, twitching in anticipation.

“Very. You have the sexiest fucking feet I’ve ever seen Y/N. God, you don’t know how long I have wanted to feel them on my dick, princess.”

You blush heavily as heat runs down your body and your pulse increases.

You have never even thought of doing something like this before, it really wasn’t your thing. But you are turned on by his words despite yourself and you bite your lip hoping you would do a good enough job for him.

Scooting your bottom up to the very edge of the sofa with your feet still in Suguru’s lap, your left foot supports his cock upright while the right plays with the tip. Hooking your toes over the leaky slit on his cockhead you collect precum and spread it over his length with the ball of your foot earning you a low hiss of approval from him.

It isn’t long until his slick makes it easy to use both feet to encompass his dick, sliding them down to the base. Encouraged by his groans, you gently roll his cock between the arches of your feet before you return back to the top to tease his fat tip and repeat the motions again.

Leaning back onto you, Suguru has a vice grip on your thighs. He’s transfixed by the skillfulness of your feet but it's so hard to keep his eyes open and focused when you are working him over so well.

You’re so good at this he can’t help but praise you (and also tease you a little).

“Ah, H-Hah! Shit baby, you’re too gonna milk me dry. Sure you haven’t done this before, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes. Not that he can see you anyway as his own eyes are glued to your toes rubbing down cock as you go a bit further this time to fondle his sack as well.

“As if! You're the one who is the dirty ass perv Sugu!”

Suguru doesn’t miss the playfulness in your voice but fuck calling him a pervert while jacking him off with your feet activated something within in him.

“Shit, Y/N yeah that’s it.. Fuck, baby! Tell me how dirty I am for loving how these gorgeous slutty toes are tickling my balls. Looks like I’ve discovered a hidden talent of yours babe, who knew you were just as good with your feet?”

You’re glad Suguru can’t see you.

You’re still blushing hard but even more embarrassing is the heavy lidded look of lust on your face as you really begin to enjoy the power you have over him.

You’re making him crumble into pieces by a little fondling of his dick with your feet.

“F-Fuck. Gonna come so soon already princess. Keep it up.”

You knew he was as well as you could feel his body squirm and his cock pulsed against the pads of your feet.

Your own legs are now trembling. Never doing this before and the awkward angle of you being positioned above and behind him had your legs burning and your feet tingling as if they would cramp soon.

Noticing you struggling and movements slowing Suguru’s large hands clutch the tops of your feet to enclose them around his cock, shaping your feet around him into a makeshift fleshlight as he wildly pistons his hips up into them.

A few more erratic thrusts and it’s not long before you feel warm liquid spill across your feet as Suguru moans, loudly cursing a string of obscenities as he spurts out more ropes of his cum. He soils his abs and pants but it’s nothing compared to the fountain of cum that fell on your feet.

Suguru’s thick load is sinking further between your toes and down to your ankles before dripping onto the floor.

“FUCK… that was so fucking hot Y/N!”

You had to admit, watching Suguru cum that hard was sexy. That said, it was also a big mess too and you didn’t exactly enjoy the sticky slimy feeling between your toes.

“Sugu go get a towel please babe.”

You whined after allowing him a few minutes to get his bearings. You did not want cum to start crusting between your toes.

“You mean, you want ME to get it?”

Suguru looked back at you smirking and you once again rolled your eyes.

You weren’t trying to trail jizz footprints all over the floor nor were you trying to slip on cum and break your neck on the hardwood on the way to the bathroom.

“Babe, Come on!”

You whined again and Suguru laughed deeply before giving you a mischievous grin.

“Awe princess... I’ll take care of you so there’s no need for a towel Y/N.”

Puzzled, you were about to question him before you saw him turn around to face you.

Suguru rose to his knees, never letting go of his grasp on your legs. He laid you back gently to rest against the sofa while he brought your ass further off the edge to press flush against his lap.

You soon found out exactly what you meant as he licked a long trail up your foot, cleaning his cum off your feet with his own tongue.

Your body jerked as his salacious lapping and sucking between your toes tickled like hell.

“S-S-Stop it! S-Su-Sugu! T-That’s so gross!”

You squealed through laughter.

“Oh?”

Suguru raised his brow, popping a toe in his mouth while he spread your other leg open wider.

His gaze landed on the large stain on your pretty white panties.

“This slutty pussy seems to enjoy it babe. Tell her not to worry, I’ll take care of her soon enough.”

Suguru moaned out his nasty promises while suckling on your appendages. He noticed the wet spot over your core increasing and the look of both arousal and shame on your face was making him hard as fuck again.

It was then Suguru decided you would be getting a new pedicure every day for the next week if necessary as he would have you indulge him in this more often from now on.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

a/n: Thinking Toji or Nanami might be next. But taking a break to work on a Gojo fic and some holiday stuff! Comment on m.list to be tagged.

Reblog to have Geto lick on your toes but likes and comments are always appreciated.

tags: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @biscuitsngravie @callm3senpaii @honeeslust @aydene

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3terna15unshin3 · 1 year

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HERES A SNIPPET OF SOMETHING IM WORKING ON☝️(even tho nobody asked) it’s gonna be a childhood best friends to lovers / right person wrong time / normal people (ish) & invisible string inspired matty fic. reader is a photographer and it takes place before and through self titled era!

plsssss let me know what u think of the idea, give me all the good and bad i want to know!!!! i’m so iffy about everything i’ve written so far after how many people liked my first fic LMFAO which sounds stupid but i’m Fr scared of sophomore slump💔

and as always my ask box is always open for suggestions or ideas or requests 🥰🥰🥰 anyway here u go!

—

“This area’s too dry. Grass looks like hay. It’ll look rubbish to set all the mic stands on it,” You argue.

Matty sighs in defeat. “You never like my ideas,” he whines sarcastically, rolling his eyes in the process.

Your elbow juts into his side, making him groan and then laugh. It’s your turn for an eye roll.

“Do you want my help or not?” You challenge, “I don’t have much experience with music videos, to be fair, so if you’d rather empty your pockets and hire someone professional—“

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up. Let’s keep moving.” He interrupts.

You both continue on your path, scoping out locations for a video that the boys want to film later in the week. There are plenty of spots Matty suggests, stopping repeatedly to ask you to capture a certain frame. Although, as he had complained, none of them have been up to your standards.

By now, you’re used to his constantly fleeting and sometimes messy creativity. You find comfort in it, actually, and feel the most empowered in your own strength as an artist when Matty’s there. Your camera seems the strongest in your hands when it’s pointed at him.

He nudges you to point out one last possible shot. The trees hang hauntingly low and its branches are frail, almost skimming the tops of your heads. Your feet tread over the now slightly greener grass as you come closer and look around in awe. Matty’s right, for one of the few times today.

“Now we’re talking,” you whisper in satisfaction, raising your Nikon to your eye out of instinct.

You back away slightly to get him in frame. From behind, the last hour of daylight shines through the kinks of Matty’s hair, backlighting him. It accentuates the slope of his nose as he turns to the side and looks up at the tree above him. His side profile is one of your favourite things about photographing Matty. It’s strong, but gentle.

He glances back at you after hearing a few clicks of the camera’s shutter. The sun that lights his silhouette, contrastingly shines directly onto your face—since you face him—painting an orange glow across your skin.

There’s something that makes you feel like he’s staring. And you’re right, because he is, but it’s a stare that felt good. Not exposing, or perceptive in a way that usually made your heart drop. You almost want to look behind you to see if maybe he was looking at something else.

It’s sort of how he always looks at you, though. Maybe that’s how he looks at everyone, you think, but part of you hopes it wasn’t. That you were an exception. Something outstanding.

You gasp when Matty suddenly lunges to steal your camera from your grip.

“Gimme this for a sec,” he mumbles. He’s lucky it isn’t hung round your neck as it usually was.

Embarrassment immediately creeps up your neck as he points it at you. You habitually block his view of your face with your hands, and insist, “Stop it!”

“The lighting’s nice!” Matty protests, pushing your hands away.

You replace them quickly to prevent any photo opportunities. “I don’t have the space on my memory card for you to fool around, Healy.”

He rolls his eyes, turning the lens back onto himself to take a horrendously close-up picture of his own face. You giggle at the way his wrinkled skin was on display from the weird expression he pulled and the odd angle he held your camera.

“This is literally our last location. Relax.” Matty points out.

He’s aware of your fear of being in photographs instead of taking them, so it’s not your first time in this situation and he lets down after pulling your leg a bit. It’s the way you’ve been since he can remember; always groaning and uncomfortable to be in a group photo at school or denying his requests to pose for his camera every once in a while. He grows frustrated with you sometimes, since it’s hard for him to grasp what you could possibly be insecure about. The idea that most of your memories held in the thousands of pictures that span over the years you’d grown up together—showed everyone else’s faces and not yours—made him even angrier. But that’s how you wanted them, after all.

This attribute of yours is one of the things most different between you and Matty. He loves having eyes on him—craved it, even. Wants to be seen and understood.

But you’re an observer, on the other hand. The world is fascinating to you, lighting your urge to preserve and savour its meticulosity. It explains your addiction to capturing it all on your Nikon.

The difference makes you two a great team. Though you regret your commitments in moments like these.

“I’m actually glad it is. Getting sick of you by the minute,” You snicker, stealing your camera back and giving Matty a shove. He stumbles over with a chuckle and the two of you bee-line for where his car was parked.

#and by snippet i mean this is literally the opening scene of the first chapter💀#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #fanfiction

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surielstea · 5 months

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HEYYY so im bored and i cant get this idea out of my head so PLEASE FEED ME. 🙏🏽🙏🏽

Ok so the readers like dumb.. that’s it LMFAO no she’s like an idiot and Azriel is always there to help her figure everything out (they’re already an established relationship) but he always helps her with so much love and adoration cuz that’s his mate like obviously.. and then maybe the inner circle notices this and they see how different they are and begin to question the both of them about it but Azriel gets defensive and starts to get mad but she calms him down and the inner circle realizes why she means sm to him

BONUS POINTS IF SHES A BIMBO! 🤍🤍

Hey hey! Finally replying to some more of my reqs cause I’m more ahead on my writing and I LOVE THIS ENERGY so I had to reply asap…

Okay first of all big fan of bimbo!reader, @thehighladywrites has some amazing fics with bimbo reader x Az that I adore so I highly recommend!!

But I’m super excited to write this one cause I feel like Az would be so patient and gentle with his mate so this just feels perfect, plus writing a bimbo is so much fun, like, she’s just a girl! Soo this’ll be out after all my other WIP’s, and you can check out the schedule here, thanks Anon! :)

#suriels tea #acotar #fanfic #anon request #thanks anon!

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tearsasmascara · 2 years

Text

worlds apart once more—

genre ⤍ angst

relationships ⤍ diluc x reader

warnings ⤍ abandonment, crying, written in like nine minutes

a/n ⤍ hey guys !! so first of all THANK YOU MARIN for helping me finish this fic bc of this post, trc is one of my fav series and i was honored to include a line from it in this <33, second of all shoutout to zee for helping me decide on diluc for the fic lmfao, and third of all thank you zee (again mvp fr), yuki, and wren for pressuring me to finish!! also this entire fic is vauge but i based it upon the idea diluc has to leave for a very life threatening mission. i hope you guys like it !

each tear that leaked out of your eyes was followed by a finger tracing it, erasing any proof that it ever existed. you closed your eyes, your sorrow crashing over you in waves, trying to drown you.

the silence was a gift provided by your lover; the knowledge that his voice might set you off again wasn’t much of a secret. you knew his sweet words would remind your heart of what it would have to long for once more.

soft fingers brushed your hair out your eyes, even softer lips pressing a show of affection into your hair.

your body shuddered, a physical manifestation of your heartbreak.

“why you?” your broken voice whispered, now dry eyes looking into your lovers.

your eyes may be done weeping, but your heart wasn’t.

he appraised you silently, looking at you in a way that still sent butterflies into your stomach, engulfing your sorrow for a brief, serene moment.

diluc gathered you, holding your fragile body in his, and rubbed his hands up and down your arms, the soothing motion sending breath into your lungs that you previously couldn’t inhale.

“you are intelligent enough to know the answer to that question, my love.”

the answer was, why anybody? why did people have to die for a cause greater than them? what made diluc any different from the others sacrificing their lives for what they believe in?

diluc was different because you loved him. it was as simple as that.

a fresh wave of grief overtook you as you crumpled into yourself, sobs wracking your body as you clutched his shirt, star shaped tears staining it.

his fingers slid under your chin, the gentle force causing you to look up into his eyes.

“while i'm gone, love, dream me the world”

you looked up into your lovers eyes, fresh tears blurring your vision.

“you are my world.”

and you broke all over again.

hi !! thank you for reading this! if you did please rb (tags make me so happy but no pressure) and i hope you liked it!

taglist: @calyxcore, @ireallylikehamsters (send an ask to be added !!)

#[fresh books]#diluc x fem reader #diluc x gn reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x you #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #diluc angst #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc x y/n #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you #genshin diluc ragnvindr

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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

Note

Hey Jenna! This is more of a private DM that you don't have to post but I just wanted to say I'm sorry about all the drama going on in the community lately. I saw your 'correction' post and just wanted to share a few things: 1. I am SO happy to know that I'm not alone in the 'older' fic readers on this site. I'm almost 30 so I usually feel shy interacting with a lot of the blogs I read and support because I feel that I am so out of the element haha. It's nice to know someone else here is in the same life phase as me (Just moved into our first home and getting married next year! No kids yet but in the future for sure) 2. With that said, I have a full time job that pays for that mortgage and that wedding- and friend, it is STRESSFUL. You get it. So after a stressful day of work responsibilities, wedding planning, family craziness, wedding paying (did I mention the stress yet?) I just want to let my mind escape to somewhere more wonderful. That's where this site comes in but more specifically that's where you come in. Your stories have truly given me so much joy and comfort in ways I didn't know could be satisfied. I don't have a lot of friends who enjoy some of the things like I do (Don't get me wrong, they are fantastic but none of them would be willing to talk for hours on end about Hunter's waist, Echo's gentleness or how handsome Rex is when he's serious haha) Your series with Doc is truly one of the best stories I've read in a very long time- and I love to read! There's just something about how you capture pure emotion and your words truly feel like a dance as I read through Doc's internal monologue. It's a long-winded way to say that I appreciate your work here and even though I may not be as active as others, I very much look forward to when you post and when I have the time each week to come here and read what you've done. I hope you don't feel discouraged when someone comes on here with such entitlement they feel they are owed your work. I am just happy to see that notification turn on whenever you post, no matter the time between.

I hope you don't mind my answering this - I kinda went back and fourth given your initial comment (I'll delete this if you didn't want it to be public!!)

But I wanted to say, on so many levels: Thank you

Thank you for taking the time to write such a heart-felt note. Thank you for putting yourself in such a vulnerable position as to share your age group (and thank you for making me feel not so alone in that! There are a couple of us on here, but it does feel a bit rare lol), and thank you for your incredible warmth and support! So many people in this fandom strive to enjoy our shared passions and use that connection to bolster others, but, unfortunately, greed and envy are human conditions and are bound to make themselves known in such a thriving and varied community. All we can do is stand together when that happens and try to help those who are hurt when those emotions cause people to lash out. For what it's worth, the friend that I mentioned who was so terribly bullied is still on here and still creative amazing works, and has found themselves in an amazing little family of supportive, loving friends.

Also, can I just say: CONGRATULATIONS!! What an incredible time in your life! New home, new husband, and, maybe soon, a growing family of your own! I have to admit something here: I hated dealing with almost every aspect of my wedding. My mother was amazing, my friends were supportive, but, gawd, that is just not my scene. I wanted to do the courthouse thing and have a fun little ceremony in the woods, which is, decidedly, not what happened lmfao. So I sincerely hope your wedding is everything you want it to be, but, even moreso, I hope the honeymoon and the many, many years that follow are even better! And I am so, so honored that my little blurbs of self-indulgence grant you even brief moments of reprieve from the very real and overwhelming stress of your crazy life.

Thank you

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piastrinorris · 2 years

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🥺🎶💖

- @corroded-hellfire 💚

🥺 is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

oof, little gentle touches. strokes of the jaw. fingers brushing against each other. reassurance. the bar is on the floor for me, clearly lmfao

🎶 do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

i do! i listen to video game soundtracks of games that i know i love, but also that aren't going to be too distracting. so for me, that's the sims, stardew valley and undertale/deltarune, mostly. some skyrim songs are also great for getting in the writing mood, but i can't trust putting the whole soundtrack on or it'll stress me out lol

💖 what made you start writing?

idk which of these 3 i should answer with so i did them all lol

- uhhh i think when i was 8 years old i read a really ooc dramione fic and i was like "wait i can do better than that" UFHJDGUISKJAL i was a lot more confident then - first started writing reader inserts 9 years ago for a fandom i now have no part in, where i'd exhausted the [person] x reader tag and just gone "huh. better write my own now then i guess" LMAO - i started writing stranger things fics in june/july bc @denim-mixtapes and i would yell about eddie over snapchat, discord, insta, multiple twitter timelines, you name a social media platform we were yelling about him on it lol. anyway we kept throwing headcanons at each other until one day i was like "maybe it's time to get back into it" and so yeah. made this blog fresh after i'd deleted my old one, and here we are :)

#ridgespeak #ask game #amy 💚

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ayech · 2 years

Text

Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Summary: After their prison escape, the Russia crew spends the night at an inn that Dmitri’s cousin owns. You and Dmitri share a room, and a shower.

Warnings/disclaimers: Language, brief mentions of violence, graphic smut, reader is female

Word count: 4.8k

A/N: I tried to incorporate some Russian in this fic because it’s hot. That being said, if my Russian is off the mark I apologize, I only just started learning it on Duolingo and this owl won’t stop harassing me. Also for the convenience of this fic, we are going to pretend that Dmitri doesn’t have a family LMFAO. Please enjoy my totally self-indulgent shower sex fic.

\\\

The snow falling just beyond the window was gentle but incessant, and you absently wondered to yourself if it ever stopped snowing in Russia. Your forehead settled against the glass as you stared outside, letting out a relieved sigh as the cold press soothed your battered and bruised skin.

It had been a long couple of days to say the least. Everyone knew breaking Hopper out of prison was going to be a tall order, but nothing could have prepared you for hijacking and crashing a plane, numerous violent encounters with Russian soldiers, another demogorgon (how do those things even keep coming back?), multiple nights desperately trying to stay alive in the bleak, unforgiving wilderness–

“You can shower first, if you’d like.”

Oh. And him. You were the least prepared for that.

You winced when you turned your head a little too fast for your aching muscles, smiling appreciatively at the man who was also holding out a change of clothes.

“Ah, what do you Americans call them again? Pizhamas?” Dmitri frowned at the way his accent mangled the word, but you only giggled and reached for the neatly folded garments, not missing the way his fingers grazed yours in the exchange. “My cousin had some extras in storage.”

Dmitri’s cousin ran a small, secluded inn that was nestled deep in the Russian wilderness. At first, having to help another fugitive seemed like it would be the group’s downfall, but if you all hadn’t taken Dmitri in you probably would have never made it out of the cold. Conveniently, the inn was hidden enough to buy some time and hatch up a plan on how to get back to the States. Although, his cousin’s single stipulation was that you all couldn’t stay for more than one night, to avoid any conflict with the soldiers that were no doubt searching for your group. It was a constricted window, but beggars can’t be choosers.

All planning was put aside for tomorrow, however. Hopper’s orders.

—

“Tonight, we rest,” Hopper wrapped an arm around Joyce’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him, waving everyone else off with his free hand. “We aren’t going to come up with any solid plans when we’re this tired. We’ll sort it all out in the morning.”

“Yeah, besides,” Murray also took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Dmitri’s shoulders. “Our comrade here spoke to his cousin and said we could stay as long as we need tomorrow, just as long as we’re out by nightfall.”

You smirked when Dmitri scoffed and shrugged his arm off. “We shouldn’t push our luck though, Americans. I say we leave by the afternoon.”

“Like I said, we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Hopper sighed. “ And Murray, stop picking on him. Remember you have to share a room tonight, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Murray’s face fell immediately. “Not happening. I sleep alone.”

“Oh, really?” you snorted. “But I thought he was your comrade?”

You couldn’t help feeling slightly smug when everyone laughed at your jab, and you tried not to falter when Dmitri gave you a particularly fond smile. Murray smiled at you as well, though it lacked amusement.

“I don’t sleep with my comrades. But I know someone who wants to,” he sing-songed and narrowed his eyes knowingly at you. Your heart plummeted at the insinuation.

“Yeah, whatever,” you quickly tried to play it off before he took it too far, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “I don’t mind sharing a room.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and shrugged in exasperation, backing away with Joyce to head to their own room.

“Well, Enzo, at least you get some peace and quiet not having to share a room with Murray,” Joyce soothed, patting his shoulder sweetly before leaving with Hopper.

“We’ll see about that,” Murray mumbled right in your earshot, smirking deviously when you turned to glare at him. You noticed Dmitri watching the two of you with a confused look, and waited until he turned around before flipping Murray the bird, silently seething at his giddy laughter as you followed the Russian to your shared room.

—

A surge of annoyance came over you thinking back on what happened earlier, and you scoffed to yourself as you fiddled with the shower faucet. What had really infuriated you about Murray’s taunting was how right he was. He really had a knack for calling out sexual tension when he saw it.

You were pretty much attracted to Dmitri the second you met him. Well, after you had haphazardly swung a crowbar at him in an attempt at self-defense (no one had told you he was one of the good guys yet). Hopper eventually pried the weapon from your hands, and when Dmitri was backed up against a wall, eyes wide and bewildered at your frantic display, you couldn’t help but find him endearing.

What really did a number on you were the days spent navigating the woods. Dmitri, despite Murray’s constant heckling, was incredibly reliable. Calm, collected, and intuitive, you found yourself gravitating towards him constantly. Perhaps part of his allure was that he was born to the land, making him better equipped to navigate it and easier to rely on. But when the sound of Russian officials echoed through the air, and Dmitri held you flush against his body while you two were tucked away behind a tree, you were made painfully aware that you weren’t just drawn to him because he knew how to lead.

“Stay quiet,” he husked into your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and blowing strands of hair against your cheek. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your back, and prayed he couldn’t feel your blush under the hand covering your mouth. “I’ve got you, куколка.”

And at dusk, when he was on watch and keen blue eyes peered across the fire to look over you as you slept, you couldn’t deny the stir of something more. Something heady.

Now you were finally alone with him–regrettably, thanks to Murray–and you had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Your body was tired, your muscles sore and eyes aching for sleep, and yet you were still restless.

You desperately needed a hot shower to wash away the grime and messy emotions.

You fiddled with the faucet some more, frowning and looking up at the shower head when the stream still didn’t come out. Of course, that happened to be the exact moment the water finally decided to kick on. You sputtered and wiped your eyes with the back of your arm, reaching towards the counter for a towel and only finding the clothes Dmitri handed you earlier. Shit.

You wiped your face as best you could with just your arm, slowly opening the bathroom door and peering into the room to see Dmitri sitting on the edge of one of the beds, sleeve rolled up as he cleaned a wound on his bicep.

“Hey,” you called softly, his head quickly turning at the sound of your voice.

“Is everything okay?” he questioned, and you were taken aback when he stood to attention and dropped the wet cloth he was cleaning his cut with, his face painted with concern.

His furrowed brow deepened when you started laughing, and you almost felt bad when he frowned in confusion. He was so cute.

“Dmitri, I just need a towel,” you said between laughs, pointing to the small stack on the dresser. He cleared his throat then, lowering his head and muttering a brief ‘da’ before retrieving one and walking it over to you.

You were still smiling in amusement as he approached you. “What exactly did you think happened?”

“I don’t know what happened,” you laughed again at his slightly defensive tone. “That’s why I was worried.”

“Worried?” you teased, opting to poke fun at the confession to distract from how it set your stomach into a flurry of excitement.

There was a moment of quiet between you two. His eyes scanned over your face instead of responding, and the fluttering in your stomach intensified. Then you were engulfed in black, Dmitri throwing the towel over your head and ruffling your hair with it.

“Why are you wet?” he asked as you scrambled to pull the cloth off your head, huffing at him when he smirked at your disheveled state.

“There was a delay in the pipes, and I was under the stream of water when it finally kicked on,” you waved your hand dismissively, suddenly very insecure about the situation under the intensity of Dmitri’s amused gaze.

“Do showers work differently in your country?”

“No. But maybe you should have a talk with your cousin about his plumbing.”

You rolled your eyes. He was fully smiling now, absolutely delighted by your flustered agitation. You almost couldn’t stand how fond he looked, it made you want to crumble to your knees in front of him. Instead, you turned around and started back towards the bathroom.

“Try not to drown in there,” he called out as you went to close the door.

“If you’re so worried, why don’t you come and keep an eye on me?”

You paused then, the door still a quarter of the way open. You didn’t mean it like that. It was just a mindless retort, really, but the tension buzzing in the air from all of the teasing contorted it into something resembling a proposition.

Dmitri didn’t say a word at first, and you felt your palm sweating on the doorknob you were still gripping. Your words lingered with a heavy presence in the small room, your hammering heart the only sound in your ears for what felt like minutes. When Dmitri finally did speak, you noticed that his voice sounded rougher, his accent more defined than usual.

“You want that?”

Oh.

Maybe you did mean it like that. Just the thought of Dmitri actually joining you in the shower made you feel like you would burst into flames, liquid heat coursing through your veins at the prospect.

Rather than answering, you looked back at him through the opening of the door, stuttering on an inhale when your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, his attention entirely fixed on you as he waited for some sort of explanation. You were nervous now, too nervous to know the right thing to say. Instead you let your hand fall from the doorknob and stepped back further into the bathroom, holding his gaze and pointedly leaving the door open. Your cheeks felt hot as you watched his lips part in understanding.

You had to turn away then, before you got too overwhelmed. You focused your attention on undressing and finally getting into the shower, which had begun to run cold since it was on for so long. You reached out a shaky hand to adjust the temperature, internally spiraling over the possibility that you might have just made a complete fool of yourself, and could have to spend the rest of the night with someone who turned you away.

Before you could feel too rejected, you heard the door creak as it was pushed further open. You held your breath when the shadow of Dmitri’s silhouette slowly moved behind the shower curtain, trembling when you heard him quietly call out your name.

“Are you sure about this?” he sounded almost like he was out of breath. “If I come in there, more than just my eyes will be on you.”

Fuck. You felt your heartbeat between your legs, the realization that he was holding back making your body heat up, the steam coming from the water only adding to that effect.

“Yes,” you fought to keep your voice even. “I’m sure, Dmitri.”

There was a rustle of what could only be him stripping off his clothes. You turned your back to the curtain and took a steadying breath, closing your eyes as you faced the stream of water. The splash was almost sweltering, though you appreciated it when you felt the cool air creep in upon Dmitri’s entrance.

You gasped when he immediately pressed himself against you, his chest flush with your back as he mouthed along the line of your shoulder. Being this close to him brought you back to that day in the woods. You could feel his heart beating just as fast now as it was then, and you couldn’t help the surge of pride at having that effect on him.

His hands held your hips firmly, and you tilted your head so that his mouth could wander the expanse of your neck. You hummed when he peppered gentle, open mouthed kisses along a tender wound right under your jaw. One of the prison guards had nicked you with a blade.

“That feels nice. It’s still really sore,” you breathed.

His grip tightened on your waist. “I took care of him.”

You shivered at that. Of course he did.

Your hands desperately reached for him, one grasping at his hair as he began sucking right at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the other circling one of his wrists and pushing down in an attempt to guide his hands lower.

He chuckled and you felt it reverberate in your throat. “So needy.”

You huffed when he easily shook his hand free from your hold, instead grabbing your wrist and moving your hand between your legs.

“Touch yourself for me, куколка,” his lips were by your ear now. “Show me how you like it.”

You couldn’t help the desperate sound that tore past your lips, the frustration almost unbearable when he laughed again, his breath against your cheek more scorching than the water raining down on your bodies.

“You asked me to keep an eye on you, remember?” he teased, though relenting just a little when he brought his hands up to firmly knead your breasts. “I’m with you, now make yourself feel good for me.”

You were helpless like this, with his body looming over yours and his imposing voice in your ear. You finally pressed your fingers against your clit, rubbing with an even, steady rhythm while Dmitri watched. Delicate, breathy sounds spilled out of your mouth into the damp air around you, and at the small of your back you could feel something thick throb in response. You imagined how well Dmitri’s cock would fill you up, and you put more pressure into your strokes as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

Dmitri took the opportunity to wrap a hand around your bared throat, thumb stroking against your pulse point.

“So pretty,” he sighed, and you shuddered at the way his accent rolled over the word. “Does it feel good?”

When you didn’t immediately respond, too lost in chasing your own pleasure, you felt his grip tighten on your throat. You moaned properly then, your walls throbbing as if he just grabbed you by your core.

“Stay with me, now,” he growled into your ear. “I said, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasped against his grip. Then, on an afterthought, you whispered: “Da.”

You smirked when he groaned at your use of his mother tongue, giggling when his resolve slipped away and he instinctively rubbed up against you while burying his face in your shoulder.

“You do too much playing,” despite his chastising, you could feel his smile against your skin.

“You’re one to talk,” you said breathlessly.

“You’re right,” he murmured, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “But we’re having fun, no?”

To emphasize his point, he ground his hips against you once more. You both moaned when the slide of the water made his cock slip and slot between your thighs, so close to where you both wanted it to be.

“Блядь!” he hissed, thrusting forward again when you squeezed him between your thighs. He held your legs in place as he fucked you like that, the water and your arousal allowing his cock to glide easily between the soft plush of your inner thighs.

“So wet,” he growled appreciatively, grinding his hips into yours as he fucked your thighs. “And all for me. So good, малышка.”

“God, Dmitri,” you felt delirious as you looked down and watched the head of his cock peek out between your legs with each thrust, your thighs twitching when it just barely grazed against your clit. “Please.”

He pulled away from you then, and you could have cried from the loss of his warm weight against your frame. His hands on your waist guided you to turn and face him, and through the fog of pleasure, it dawned on you that this was the first time you were actually looking at him since this all began.

His wet hair was unruly, sticking up in multiple directions from you grabbing at it. And his eyes were dark, blue irises almost entirely engulfed by his lust-blown pupils, as they raked over your body to take in your own disheveled state. His strong chest heaved with his labored breathing, and you set your hands over the light dusting of hair there before trailing them up his neck, pulling him in for a hungry kiss.

Dmitri wasted no time in lifting you up and pushing your back against the wall, hissing into your mouth when you dug your nails into his shoulder at the cold press on your skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” you whispered, kissing the crescent welts and soothing the skin with your tongue.

He laughed lightly. “Don’t apologize. I want you to leave marks.”

He shifted then, adjusting his hold on you so that your legs were draped over his elbows, his hands supporting your lower back while he pressed you into the wall. You watched with hooded eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance, slowly easing the head of his cock in before meeting your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his voice was low, and your lips parted on a silent moan as he slowly thrust in and out, his thick cock stretching you wider and wider as he eased in deeper with each stroke.

He shamelessly moaned when he finally bottomed out, halting his movements when his hips were flush with yours and just pressing his weight into you. The pressure was too much and not enough at the same time. You felt like with one more inch he would split you open, yet you still weren’t as close to him as you wanted to be. You wouldn’t be satisfied until he consumed you completely.

His eyes were closed as he tried to regain his composure, and you couldn’t help but hungrily take in the way his pleasure etched into his features; furrowing his brow, flushing his cheeks, and pulling his lips into a soft ‘o’. He blinked his eyes open slowly, growling when he met your heated gaze.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he warned. “I won’t be able to control myself.”

“Who said I want you to control yourself?” you smirked, unable to resist challenging him even with his cock filling you to the brim.

He smirked too, clicking his tongue as he lowered his face to tenderly rub his nose against yours. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then, as if to answer his own question, he pulled out and slammed back into you with a punishing thrust. You cried out, your head falling back against the tile when the force of his hips pushed you a few inches up the wall. He followed it up with another harsh thrust as he set a brutal rhythm, pressing his mouth to yours as he pounded into you with abandon.

“О Боже мой,” he grunted against your lips. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

You moaned as the praise showered over you, heating your skin more than the cascading water ever could. The wet sound of his hips slapping into yours reverberated throughout the small shower, filling your ears along with the guttural sounds Dmitri was making as he fucked you into the wall. You gasped when he adjusted your legs again, casting them over his shoulders so you were completely bent in half, all of his weight pushing into you as he got impossibly deeper.

The feverish cries spilling past your lips were uninhibited, growing louder and more desperate with each push of his hips against yours. You nearly sobbed when one of the hands supporting your lower back finally moved to rub against your clit, deft fingers stroking in tandem with every thrust.

“Вот так, малышка,” Dmitri’s voice rumbled against your throat where he had buried his head. “Ты звучишь потрясающе. Такая маленькая шлюшка для меня.”

You whined at his use of Russian, your body thrumming with pleasure as the foreign words ghosted across your damp skin and set every nerve ending into a frenzy.

“Dmitri,” you whimpered into his hair, latching onto the strands and shuddering when he applied more pressure to your clit, driving harder into your wet heat. “I’m so close.”

“Me too,” he rasped into your neck, an almost pained groan spilling from his lips as your walls clung tighter to his cock.

“In me,” you whispered, feeling him falter slightly in his movements before lifting his head to look at you with hesitant eyes.

“Please, Dmitri,” you whined, too blissed out to even feel remotely embarrassed by how desperate you were being. “I want to feel you inside me for days. Please.”

Your request pulled a feral growl from his chest, his hips quickly picking back up their ruthless pace as he chased his release. He moved to press his lips to yours again, though it just resulted in panting in each other’s mouths as your pleasure came closer and closer to its peak.

While his thumb continued its ministrations on your clit, Dmitri snuck two fingers down to squeeze them in alongside with his cock, curling them just so to press up against that sweet spot inside of you. That, coupled with the added stretch, was enough to make you see stars, stray tears falling down your cheeks as you trembled through wave after wave of pleasure.

“Да, да, да,” Dmitri chanted softly into the hair’s breadth of space between your lips, letting out a long moan as he followed you over the precipice. His hips stilled against yours as his cock throbbed inside you, liquid warmth seeping into your center and causing another belated surge of pleasure to shudder through your overstimulated body.

His forehead pressed into your shoulder as he let out a satisfied sigh. A tired laugh bubbled out of your chest as you cradled his head, petting down his hair to try and undo the mess you made of it. He hummed at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, turning his head inward to press a line of kisses up your neck and to your jaw, not stopping until his lips found yours.

Without the cloud of lust muddling your senses, you were actually able to revel in the feeling of kissing Dmitri; how soft his lips felt, and the way the hairs of his mustache tickled the sensitive skin above your lip. You smiled against his mouth at the sensation.

He pulled away slightly, examining your face with adoring eyes. “What is it?”

“Your mustache tickles,” you giggled and bumped your nose with his, feeling giddy when he laughed along with you and pressed another sound kiss to your lips.

When you both decided it was finally time to actually bathe, he attentively helped you back down to your feet, letting you brace yourself against his sturdy frame while you tried to regain the feeling in your legs. His hands were gentle and diligent as they moved over the planes of your body, careful around healing wounds and bruises from the days passed as they lathered your skin with soap. He shot you an apologetic glance at the new bruises blossoming bright red on your lower back, tenderly massaging the skin there as he washed you.

You returned the favor once he was all done, delighting in the firm feel of his body under your hands as they glided over his skin. As you washed him, you felt the trickle of something warm and thick running down your thigh. It caught Dmitri’s attention as well, and his eyes darkened in interest as he brought his fingers to trail up your inner thigh, collecting the cum with the pads of two fingers before swiftly inserting them between your legs.

You gasped at the intrusion, burying your face in his chest when embarrassment burned in your cheeks.

“You did say you wanted to feel it in you for days, да?”

You shuddered at how smug he sounded, your face only feeling hotter when he massaged your tender walls before pulling his fingers back out.

By the time you stepped out of the shower the water was freezing, your teeth chattering away as you rushed to get dressed.

“This is nothing. We were just stranded in the cold for days,” Dmitri laughed at your jittery dance as you waited for him to finish changing.

You gladly let Dmitri bundle you up in a blanket once you were back in the bedroom, watching him with warm eyes as he adjusted the hem of the soft fabric around your neck. Your heart sank when he stepped away from the bed you were sitting on.

“Hey,” you called quietly, your anxiety spiking when he stopped in front of the other bed, looking back towards you curiously. “We… we can sleep together, if you want. It would be warmer that way.”

Dmitri blinked at you, almost confused, and you felt extremely shy all of the sudden. Then you saw him smirk, chuckling under his breath before reaching down and pulling the sheet off the bed.

“I was just grabbing another blanket,” he walked back over to you, pointing at the cloth draped over your still-shivering frame. “I didn’t think you’d share with me.”

“Oh,” you mumbled bashfully, dipping your chin further into the jumbled fabric around your neck.

You completely covered your face when he started laughing, embarrassed by how insecure you probably sounded. The bed dipped as he got on it, then you heard him softly call your name. Reluctantly pulling the blanket down, you found him lying on one side of the bed with his arms open in invitation.

You immediately burrowed into his side, feeling more than hearing the rumble in his chest when he let out another fond chuckle. He turned the lamp off next to the bed, a blanket of darkness falling over the room.

“So needy, куколка,” he whispered, enveloping you in his arms and kissing your hair.

“You just…” you hesitated, your chest constricting with the intensity of your feelings. You worried it might be too much for your current situation. “You make me feel safe.”

You felt him hold you tighter then. “Good. You are safe with me.”

You wanted to say more. You wanted him to know how happy he made you, and how much you cared for his safety too. You wanted to tell him that you would be more than willing to repeat tonight’s events, that you would eagerly accept and reciprocate his touch outside of this room.

But tomorrow was uncertain. There was no telling when, or even if, you’d make it back to the States. And if you did make it back, what did that mean for him?

“Dmitri,” you kept your voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the peace that had fallen over the dark room. “If it turns out that there is a way for us to get back to our country…”

You didn’t know how to finish the question. You didn’t know how to ask without making it sound like a request. You also didn’t know if you could handle an answer that involved you parting ways.

“Then we will go to your country,” he muttered the words sleepily into the top of your head, sending a chill down your scalp.

“You would leave your home?”

“Hm? My home?” his sleepy voice was laced with confusion. “I was living at a prison as a guard for years. Not the coziest home, eh?”

You hummed in understanding, deciding to leave it alone and let him sleep. He seemed to pick up on your unease, though, and you suddenly felt a tickle against your temple as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he soothed a hand up and down your arm, squeezing your shoulder and pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You are home.”

You felt yourself sink into him, warmth spilling from your chest and all the way out, your toes and fingertips tingling with it.

Everything you wanted to say would be said eventually. If not, you were pretty sure Dmitri already knew.

///

Да/Da → Yes

Куколка → Literally means “little baby doll” or “dolly,” but it’s equivalent to “baby” or “sweetheart” in English

Малышкa → Baby

Блядь → Fuck

О Боже мой → Oh my God

“Вот так, малышка. Ты звучишь потрясающе. Такая маленькая шлюшка для меня.” → “That’s it, baby. You sound amazing. Such a little slut for me.”

#dmitri antonov #dmitri antonov x reader #enzo x reader

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