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muntitled · 25 days ago

Text

Tic-Tac-Toe

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: Every Wednesday your schedule consisted of attending classes during the day, and satisfying the needs of a sadist through the night.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Insertion, Fingering, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Gunplay, Deepthroating, Breeding Kink, Unprotected sex

A/N: Hell is empty

4k Words

You're strapped in a chair, like always, and you are blindfolded because he doesn't trust easily.

It's terribly annoying.

At any point of during and after your little 'arrangement' you could have called the cops. Doesn't he understand that?

Every Wednesday, you're taken from the warmth of your apartment, and you're delivered right back at 00:00 on the dot, every Thursday with barely an inch of life left in your bones. You'd either always come back wet, with semen sliding between your thighs, or with mysterious marks- old and new- crawling underneath your sweater. Whatever mood he was in, he'd always leave you feeling sore.

It should have bothered you.

The thought of seeing this large, domineering shadow-in-a-suit every Wednesday should not overwhelm you with all these feelings of excitement. Instead, you should do like all the mentally ill girls do and just get some fucking help.

But you want him to trust you, for some reason.

Which was utterly ridiculous considering the fact that to him, you were something akin to a porcelain wind up toy for his amusement. You had no business requesting he remove the blindfold aspect but still, you asked anyway. Toy's couldn't be trusted, could they?

"I'd really appreciate it if I didn't have to wear one of these everytime I visit your place." He removes the blindfold, and in a second, your vision is filled with nothing but him. One moment you were in the cozy warmth of your dorm room. Curled up on the couch while your roommate spends her youth effectively- out with boyfriends and friends and everything you didn't have. You answered the front door when you heard his special knock, like you always do. You walked with him to the cab. You let him put on the blindfold. You said 'I'm fine’ when the taxi driver got a little too nosy and you let him lead you away from your boring life.

If only for a few hours.

You'd let him do whatever he wanted for those few hours because such surrender was almost sacred. You forfeited your safety in his hands, to do with it whatever he pleased and in that, you found rest. Whatever happens, happens.

Forget this room- what was essentially his personal dungeon, windowless, red and boasting various torture objects- your eyes are only on him.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to kidnap me anymore? We do this every Wednesday," You become more childish around him and he lets you. Like you forgot you are a fully autonomous university student. There was power in that too. "Surely we've established some sort of trust?” He doesn't respond to you immediately. You crane your head up at him, hungry to lock eyes with his cold, empty slits that enchanted you body and soul.

You are in love with him, perhaps.

That's a logical response isn't it?

You laugh almost.

Listening to yourself try to rationalize your fondness for such a horrible man.

Said horrible man is silent. All you hear is the clicking of his dress shoes as he moves to the leather seat directly across from yours. Your eyes scan over all his movements.

The right corner of his lip quirks up. A small coffee table creates the only distance between you and he bends over to pour you both a generous glass of Brandy on the rocks. You don't drink it. Ever since he's been bringing you here, you never do. He knows this, yet still he pours.

"This relationship isn't about trust." He says finally. Something inside you, that is perhaps a little broken, actually purrs at the sound of his voice. You're hyperaware of your thighs squeezing together on the leather seat. They're spilling out of the sundress you purposely wore today.

Lots of your clothes were for the function of comfort. Your body was full and curvy and not always something to be advertised, unless you wished it to. Tonight, you wanted to show off as much as possible.

A thick leather band is keeping both your wrists locked to the armrests, while he sits back, free and so irrevocably in charge it should scare you. It should. But the sick and incredibly deranged thing is that it doesn't.

Outside, the rain is beating down on whatever building you're in, casting a thick veneer of grey all across the city.

But inside this velvet room... your heart is hammering inside its cage as you watch him undo the buttons of his crisp suit. A black one today. Jet black like his hair.

Although-

"You've got more grey in your hair than last week." You can't help but say.

He tilts his head in inquisition. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," you shrug your shoulders as much as you can under these limited restraints. At least he hasn't restrained your ankles this time. Progress. "In here, you're the boss. Right?"

He takes a sip of his drink until finally, you've finally locked eyes. Your bare toes curl and your back arches slightly as you sit a bit straighter in your seat. Like you're in a lecture hall, although he is far more interesting than any of your professors.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he finally says as he takes one more sip of his drink before bringing his briefcase onto the coffee table. Its presence is ominous and so horribly loud for an inanimate object. It kickstarts all your dormant nerves, revving up all the rest of your senses that have yet to catch up to the fact that you were facing the man of both your desires and nightmares once again.

"Who have you told about our arrangement?" The question causes you to roll your eyes. He watches the petulant movement with that same, silent smile and blank eyes. He unclicks the briefcase. Your stomach lurches and your thighs squeeze together. Pavlov's dog.

"Every time you ask me-" an object clinks onto the table. A butcher knife.

You try to pull your eyes away from the objects he's placing on the table, one by one. "Everytime you ask me if I've told anyone about our arrangement-" another object. A wooden spoon beside the knife. "Everytime I tell you the same thing."

Your throat closes when he uncovers a dildo. Bright pink and fucking menacing. "Carry on talking." He says, snapping your gaze away from the objects lining the table.

"I don't have any friends." Your voice is wobblier. You try to deny the sight of the rabbit vibrator, "It's the reason you picked me." You clear your throat as you hoped to clear all the nerves beginning to fog your mind. "Someone could've followed me here. B-But I don't really know anyone enough to care." The final object that clunks onto the glass coffee table and this time, you're unable to look away.

"Are we ready to begin?"

The metal revolver laying quiet and undisturbed beside the rabbit vibrator makes everything else on the table look like children's toys. Even the butcher knife.

You pull at the restraints, your legs quivering slightly as you shift and writhe in the seat. He studies you as closely as you were once studying him. You can see the excitement begin to flood his eyes at the physical manifestation of your discomfort.

"Now you're getting it." He nods sardonically, taking another sip from his glass before placing the briefcase on the floor beside him. "You were a little too happy to see me," he joked, letting out an airy exhale of laughter.

"You wanna hazard a guess as to what we'll be playing today?" He's smiling, genuinely. With that look in his eyes you can tell he's hovering in the clouds. Meanwhile you've begun to feel real fear. No matter how regular these visits might become you'd never get used to him. It's impossible. Not when he found new and daring ways to torture and pleasure you every single week. You couldn't get used to something as brash and unconventional as him. Like the conditions of a child in a broken home, he kept his tactics inconsistent so that every week is a new hell or perhaps- depending on his mood- heaven.

"If I guess wrong?" You swallow thickly and something dark in him settles. He spreads his legs more, there's a twitch inside his lips before he smiles again.

"Well, guessing isn't the game, so you'll be fine."

You nod your head... assessing the objects. There's menacing objects and household objects. Even just looking at them you can tell what they all have in common.

"Am I going to have to insert-"

"You're not guessing." His voice booms. He rests his elbow on the armrests, his hands corded with veins seem itching to do something, you're not sure what. "I said guess." He commands.

"Hide and seek?"

He snickers, "A favourite-"

"More like your favourite." You snip back, "I couldn't sit down the whole week." You frown at the memory. That week he'd brought you to an abandoned warehouse, letting you run the entire perimeter full.

"It's in your best interest to keep coming to our sessions-" he reminds you, snapping you back into the present.

"You're paying my university fees, I'm not complaining." You nod, before plastering a thin smile on your face, "All I have to do every week is prostitute myself to a literal sadist-"

"Have you given up on guessing today's game?" He didn't like you making him hyper aware of the fact that this dynamic, whatever it is, is considered objectively bad. And so you're not surprised when he swiftly moves past the topic.

He leans forward. His large hand disappears under his chair before uncovering a small whiteboard. Four lines- 2 horizontals are running across 2 verticals, creating 9 blocks. He stands up, while your eye is still focusing on the board. From your point of view it sits underneath the row of objects on the table. You don't even realize your right wrist strap is being untied.

"Colour?" He asks, pushing a crate of whiteboard markers towards you. With your now free hand you pick the pink one.

He snickers. "Predictable." He whispers before placing a large, domineering hand on your head. He presses down your braids, patting you like a stray he's rescued from the cold. You stare aimlessly ahead, fearing you won't be able to contain everything you've begun to feel for him if you lock eyes now.

"We're playing tic-tac-toe," he relents. His hand lingers on your head a bit longer before he's stepping away.

"With a twist, I presume?"

"Clever girl," he nods, walking back to his seat. "So you're aware of the objects."

"Place a gun in front of a girl and she's going to notice."

"Paranoid girl." He tsks before leaning forward.

"You want to start or should I?"

"Wait-" you swallow, "What happens if I win?"

He smiles that dazzling, debonair smile.

"You pick which one goes inside you."

Lightning cracks across the sky. A chorus of thunder roars all at once like some kind of phenomenon and your lips stutter open.

"Th-That's insane I-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you came here out of your own volition. "

"What happens if you win?"

"Then I choose." He says.

Your eyes skate over the object. It doesn't take an ivy league graduate to hazard a guess as to which of the objects he's itching to stick inside you.

"There's a fucking knife here-" You're trembling. Tears are pooling in your eyes. It doesn't even matter that you're a somewhat decent tic tac toe player. It doesn't matter that you're confident in this game. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

"And there's also a spoon," he nods, neutrally, "And a vibrator, and a dildo. Etcetera. Etcetera." He leans forward, unclicking his whiteboard pen, "your words are just words, Darling. You're just listing things. Start," he says, with a deadly lilt in his voice. "Or I will."

You scramble to uncap your marker with one hand, all while he watches with dead and black eyes. You knew that whoever starts the game was placed at a big advantage and so you're nearly scrambling to place that dignified X in the center block.

"Clever girl." He says once again, drawing his blue 'O' directly beside your pink 'X'. You aim for the block above him. He blocks it. You aim for the block beside the center. He blocks that too.

Your victory comes too quickly. You barely feel it as you strike a line vertically through the blocks. 3 X's.

Relief washes over you but it's overcast with doubt. Like you're celebrating in trepidation as you watch him stand up.

"Congratulations! Which do you choose?"

"I can pick anything?" You ask, staring up at him, bright eyes wild with the adrenaline that comes with wanting to preserve your organs.

"Anything you want, my little winner."

You begin to lean over. His eyebrows quirk up when you wrap a small hand around his wrist.

"I pick that." You say breathlessly. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands at his side. And you watch as he walks towards you, as if compelled by an unforeseen force. His palms are calloused underneath yours and you blow out several unstable breaths as he stands above you. So imposing it's breathtaking.

"You sure?" It's the way he asks it that has you second guessing. And perhaps he sees the caution seeping into your eyes because there's excitement lurking in his. Before you're even able to formulate a response, his hand is locked tightly around your esophagus, vacuuming all pathways shut until you're writhing for air.

"A fine, fine choice," He's becoming more and more riled up the more you writhe in your seat, trying to scrounge for a single breath of air. He doesn't let you. Instead he moves behind you, before leaning down.

If you could breathe, you would shiver at the feeling of his lips behind your ear. "Here we go-" he whispers, before reaching around your torso with his free hand before forcing your legs open. The second he lets his three digits stab into your cunt, he uncurls the grip on your throat as you make a horrid sound somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a haggard gasp. "FUCK- Sl-Slowdown-" you knew better than to request something like that. All you hear is a snicker from behind you as pain blossoms all across your nether regions. He's not gentle. He's not kind. He doesn't allow you to adjust to his fingers before he's scissoring them inside you, causing a blood-curdling scream to rip itself out of your throat. Your back is arched and you're trying to get away from him but the fucking persists.

"You've been wet like this for me the entire time?" He sounds absolutely demented, behind you, "You wanted this didn't you?" He bites at your ear as the first tears begin to pool at your eyes, "My little winner."

"P-Please stop-" His fingers are restless inside you. Curling and uncurling. Scissoring and stabbing as if wanting to open you up and split you all the way in half.

"What a pretty little pussy, huh? Look at what a mess you're making."

"When-" you can't form words. "When- Stop?" It's all you're able to say as your nails dig into the material of his suit.

"The sooner you cum the sooner it stops."

You doubted your ability to cum under these circumstances. He's setting an ungodly pace and it's all so hurried and in a frenzy, it's like your brain does not have time to understand if you even like what's currently being done to you.

"What- Do you want you want my help?" you begin to shake your head. "I'll help you, baby-"

His other hand reaches over and pinches your clit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm is quite literally forced out of you. Your hips writhe and your ass tries to leave the seat as the first feelings of pleasure rip through you by force. "That's it, Clever girl," he coos, still curling his fingers inside you, "That's my Clever girl." He says once more before stilling his movements. For a second you just sit there, trying to collect your breath while he's still inside you. All at once, his hands are removed from your body.

He grabs a handkerchief from his breast pocket and you watch him clinically wipe his hands before erasing the marks on the board with the same cloth. A very clear boner pushes against his black slacks yet still his face is calm.

"Alright, My turn to start-"

"WHAT!? B-But I won." You scream, absolutely seething with desperation.

"You know everyone who plays 'X' has a significantly higher chance at winning-" You say with your eyes narrowed. He nods.

"And you know that too, which means we each should be granted alternating times to play ‘X’. Regardless if you won or not." You slump in your seat, suddenly far too aware that your bare cunt is exposed.

"Don't mope." He says, "It's not cute." Before drawing his 'X' in the center.

You close your legs, sitting upright with a new zeal of self preservation as you grab ahold of your marker.

You draw your pink 'O' underneath his.

You both play many more rounds. All ending in ties. This is how you play- with a frazzled grip and closed legs. A shiver every now and then overcomes you with the gravity of your aftershocks. His snickers bring your eyes up to his. He speaks as he makes his move.

"You're so focused on blocking," he sighs, "You're not even trying to win anymore-"

"I'm not letting you stick a knife in my cunt." You nod in finality before blocking another move.

"Not even if I say please?" He asks, making a faux pout.

"Fuck off."

"In that case, I have to win."

Your heart kickstarts as he pushes his pen to the board. Images flash across your mind. Blood splattered across his gorgeous face. Your blood as he fucks the sharp end of a knife inside you. You nearly vomit while he speaks. “Easy as-" you block him.

"Tic-" you block him again.

"Tac-" you block him some more

"Toe- I Win."

A victory that somehow escaped your vision. He strikes a line diagonally through the squares and your stomach sinks. He stares at you from across the room. His eyes so deeply satisfied you can feel it radiating off of him in waves.

You lower your teeth to the other restraint, violently trying to free your left wrist from its oppressive hold. And you watch as the devil slowly rises.

Your heart aches. Your brain is sent into complete alarm as your flight or fight kicks in and your sympathetic nervous system fires.

"Now, which one would look pretty inside you?" He drags his fingers along the objects, undoubtedly an act of taunting. You stomp your feet on the ground. You try to push the chair underneath you but it's plastered to the floor.

"Please!" Tears are running thickly. They cloud your vision. You don't even see the way his smile falls enough for him to rub over the bulge in his slacks.

"Fuck," he says gravelly as he relents and picks up the gun. "You're so fucking pretty when you're scared out of your fucking mind. You know that?"

You shake your head as he nears, wondering if this might really be the end. Has your body become too worn out by his games? Has the time for him to discard his toy finally dawned on you both? Is he all grown up with no need for such things as toys?

"PLEASE-NO-"

"Open your mouth." He's standing in front of you, your head directly in front of his raging bulge.

You shake your head, trying to move away but he rips your face towards him. "Listening to me is the only choice you have to make it out alive, Baby. You wanna live, don't you?" He's nothing but a tall figure, with the overhead lights shining around his head like a halo. Your face right by his bulge.

"Little girl needs to go to school." He nods, eyes fluttering shut, "She needs to complete her studies and get a good job so she wouldn't have to meet with scary men like me- Fuck-" it riled him up to no end to have you scared of him. You suppose it triggered a part of him that craved attention. He needed to feel like he existed and if that was reeped from fear then so be it.

"Stick the barrel in your mouth," the bottom of his hand coaxed open your jaw, and, as if on autopilot, you listen. Perhaps there is a way out of this. Perhaps you should just listen.

"That's it... Fuck," he brings your free hand up to rub his erection "That's it, Baby, stick it inside your mouth." Cold metal hits your lower teeth, "Stick it in like you would a cock." He says, looking down at you intently as your tongue unfurls and you suck the barrel in. "Shit-" he places his other hand on the back of your head before forcing you to take the gun deeper down your throat. He's trembling. Far too badly. And so is his finger on the trigger.

"Fuck, you're such a fucking whore, you know that?"

You're gagging and flailing around the barrel, saliva slides down.

So desperate to please him.

In your hast you don't even realize your left hand that had been restrained is now free. Your eyes are closed.

Please him.

Just please him and you'll live.

"That's my brainless girl..." he praises and that rouses something in you. It has your hips bucking against nothing.

"Such a stupid girl..." he continues, "You're gonna ride me, aren't you? You're gonna fuck me so good-" You're not about to tell him that sex wasn't supposed to be apart of this game. You're not stupid.

You faintly hear the sound of a belt unlooping. A zipper siding down. "You're making me so happy, baby." He admits before effortlessly lifting you from the chair until you're straddling him.

You're free.

When did that happen?

"F-Fuck, I need you to ride me." His head is leaning back against the chair. His tie hangs messily from his shirt that has two buttons undone.

You're free.

"Don't try anything," he warns, as he lifts you enough to pull his cock out of his pants. "Matter of fact. Keep it in your mouth while you ride me-" He slams you down onto his cock the very second those words leave his mouth. He's fucking into you with recklessness and fury and violence. His hair falls in his face but the gun is too heavy, without a hand there, it nearly slips from your mouth.

He's careful to catch it, forcing the barrel back in your mouth as he places a hand on your ass, controlling how your ass bounces on his lap. The gun offers motivation like no other. It has you arching your back and swirling your hips as you tighten your cunt around him.

He sticks the gun down too far and you gag. "You trying to get me to cum, huh? You little slut-" you nod, the tears still spilling as pleasure begins to stream through your brain. It has you excited by the prospect of being held at gunpoint. You realize with grave certainty that you've arrived at the point of no return.

"What a good girl- fuck-" he's ramming up into you, his hand on the gun twitching like his cock does. "I'm gonna fucking cum- FUCK-" he does and your orgasm immediately barrels into you at the exact same time. You try to ride him, to milk it as much as you can, to continue to make him happy.

"Such a stupid fucking slut-" he whispers, eyes hooded as his hips still spurt cum into you.

Your ears perk. You see his finger on the trigger move. You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear a click.

"Such a silly girl." You hear him say. "Don't worry, Baby, it isn't loaded." You're still in your body. You're still alive, on his lap, your sundress unfurling around you both.

"Not yet anyway."

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game smut #the salesman #the salesman x reader #the salesman smut #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #squid game salesman

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ridingthatd · 5 days ago

Text

❝ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙈𝘼𝙉 ❞

frontman! sukuna x guard! choso x fem! reader

this smut is inspired by squidgame.

your husband sukuna ryomen isn't only a dirty man in bed, but he's also a dirty man in work. he's known as the frontman ; the main man who created the business, squidgame where people can sell their lives for money. and you're his pretty little thing; his wife, his property. what happens when one of his guards lust over you?...

warning the content is very kinky and filthy.

good business is good business. doesn't matter how you make the money, doesn't matter if it's dirty money because good business is always going to be good business no matter what way you archive it; that's how ryomen business worked or more like that's how squidgame worked.

"RED LIGHT!".

a robotic loud voice echos outside the one way see through window. the sound of a wine glass being filled, fills the room along with a jazz song played out of the music box across the room. sukuna leans back against the leather couch as he gaze outside the window.

one hand holds the glass of wine close to his wet lips while the other is burried deep inside his wife's tight pussy. here you were seated like a good girl on your husband's lap, your face burried in his neck just like his fingers were burried inside your pussy. his fingers were curling against your soft sensitive spot, hitting it again and again and again making it hard for you to muffle your whines.

you were so wet that even through the loud music sukuna could hear the wet filthy sounds your dirty pussy made as it sucks his fingers in and out. he takes a sip of his wine before placing it back on the counter next to the couch, your hazey fucked eyes stare at him as he grabs your face.

"open." he firmly commands and you immediately follow, opening your mouth and sticking your wet tongue out as soon as you do you feel sukuna spitting thewine that he just drank inside your mouth before he leans in for a wet kiss, sliding his tongue between your teeth and shoving it down your throat all while his fingers don't stop rutting inside your pussy.

sukuna groans at the delicious taste of your spit mixed with the wine, he sucks hard on your tongue causing you to whimper indicating your close to cumming on his lap. he lean out leaving a wet string of spit connecting both of your tongues. you wanted to cum, you wanted to squirt all over his lap but you knew not to, you knew it wasn't the time to. you can cum only when-

"GREEN LIGHT!".

your back arch, mouth hangs open as you scream out while squirting on sukuna fingers. he doesn't stop fucking violently them in, draging your orgasm until he milks everything out. your thighs tremble, twitching as your squirt drips down sukunas leg to the floor. sukuna gently places your face inside his neck before placing a wet kiss on your forehead, muttering a good girl.

he stares outside the window one last time before caring you in his arms making his way to the door, as he opens the door he was greeted by one of the guards that stands outside the room. sukuna simply take one look at him before he heads down the hallway. not aware that this guard was shamelessly stroking his cock to the sound of his wife.

'CHOSO POV`

he can hear it. he can hear his bosses wife muffled whimpers, you cute little thing trying not to be loud yet failing not to. his fat cock was leaking through his red pants, making it hard for him to resist.

but you make it even harder for him to resist as his eyes widen once he hears how wet you are, he can't believe that your dirty little pussy is so needy and wet that he can even hear it from outside the room. you dirty slut he smiles to himself as he palm his ragging cock groaning as he pictures what your sore pussy looks like right now.

were you bend over? were you spreading your pussy on the coach? or were you on the floor getting fucked like a dog- he growls at that thought. he can tell you were close by how loud your whines were getting, by how rough his boss was pounding your sweet little pussy.

choso's breath gets heavy, he can't help the way drool slip past his lips as he squeeze his cock through his pants. he bets his cock is so red that it matches the color of his suit.

choso gasp as he hears the beautiful scream you let out- you were squirting everywhere, he can hear it- he can hear the pissing sound your pussy make as the clear liquid spurt out. the sound of the drops of cum hitting the ground.

and he loses it, biting hard on his lips before his cock tremble and robes of cum gush out of his tip. he came in his pants.

the loud sound of siren fills the air, it was a meeting call. choso and all of the guard stand in a line and run down the hallway, making their way toward ryomen office.

here you were standing next to sukuna nervously staring at the guards that were lined in front of you. what was happening? why was the meeting called and why were you here? did you find out the perverted act choso did. his heart pounds.

"shoot one of them." sukunas rough voice speak up behind the mask he had on, handing you a gun.

"but-".

"it's either you shoot one of them or I'll shoot all of them". your husband makes it clear. choso gaze at you, as you carefully hold the gun and your eyes examine the group of masked guards in front of you. before they land on choso.

his breath hitch, it feels like you were making eye contact with him even though you can't see his eyes because of the mask. choso was to lost in your eyes that he didn't notice his bleeding arm that you just thought. he only noticed the way you muttered a small sorry to him before handing your husband the gun.

his mind was blank as he follows his boss command to go to his room, making it down the hallway as soon as he closes the door of his room behind him, he moans out freeing his hard sensitive cock from his pants.

she shot ME! she chose to shoot me and no one else. and she shot me in the arm which means she didn't want me to die so she can see me again. choso whimpers at his thoughts stroking his cock faster. you chose him. you want him. you looked at him.

fuck he's going crazy.

'END OF POV`

"why would you do that". you sob out on your husbands lap as he shushs your cries. bouncing you on his leg, comforting you like a little baby.

"you're the one who insisted on me teaching you how to use a gun after I told you no". he says as he strokes your hair.

"so I gave you a gun lesson". he causally speaks out. you don't say anything, you know there's no point of arguing with him because he was right. if you can't handle killing a real person right now then there's no point of teaching you how to use a gun.

"is the guard going to be okay?". you question.

sukuna gives you a blank stare not answering your question, with one arm, he grabs you and lifts you, so easily you could be a rag doll. you let out a surprised noise as he carries you to the couch.

he throws you on the couch, sits next to you and easily pulls you over his lap. your eyes widen as you find yourself on your stomach. you feel his rough hands tearing up the dress you had and throwing it across the room, leaving you naked.

you try you lift your face up from the couch but sukuna growls before yanking you by the hair and shoving your face back into it.

"don't move you fucking slut". you whimper, already getting wet at the way he's handling you.

your is face down, so you dont see him pressing a button to call one of his guards.

sukuna rubs your belly bulge that you had from the cum that he plugged in your pussy hole, not letting any of his warm cum spill out.

he spanks your ass, you arch your back despite the strength of his spank when he hits your ass again.

then, he rubs your wet slit. you let out a whine.you push your hips up, aching for the touch, but when you get too eager, he pulls his hand away and slaps your butt again.

you hear the front door open and close.

"ah you came. have a drink and sit down". sukuna says. you can't see anything as your face is currently pressed against the couch.

you hear the someone walk behind you, and make his way to the armchair across from the couch and sits down.

sukuna starts rubbing your clit, holding you down still, and all while, he never breaks eye contact with choso. here you were on sukunas lap ass up, head down. your pussy spread wide open vulnerable for any eye in his office.

choso doesn’t dare move his eyes from sukuna. he stays completely still, while sukuna is sipping on his wine, staring calmly into his eyes.

"look at her". only at sukunas command does he let his eyes trail downwards. he sees the way you're plugged, ass full of handmarks. choso held back the growl that wanted to rip from his throat at the filthy sight in front of him.

he pours himself a glass and sips. with a relaxed sigh, he gently circles the plug that was in your ass hole with his fingers before he grabs it and slowly pull it. you whine as you feel sukunas warm cum that was inside of you gush out your sore pussy.

i own this that's what ryomen was trying to tell choso.

he scoops some of them that spilled out with his fingers and he fucks it back inside of you all while clamly staring at choso.

"ngh-! daddy- i can't please-!". you sob.

"aw your sweet little pussy can't take it right now? my fat cock was to rough with you?". sukuna coo at you while rubbing your pussy gently.

you sniffle bobbing your head up and down.

"hm how about we use your mouth then? is that good? you want me to feed your filthy mouth some cock?". you eagerly node.

sukuna then roughly grabs you by the hair and turn your head so you're looking at choso.

choso couldn't hide his bulge anymore. your eyes trail down widening as you see the way precum was leaking out of his huge cock through his pants.

"remember this guard you filthy slut hm? weren't you feeling bad for shooting him yea? how about you give him a favour right now and suck his cock so you can make it up for him?" sukuna growls out, shoving you on your feets and hands like a dog.

"crawl to him like a good puppy".

choso can't believe what's happening, he feels like he's going to suffocate under his mask from how hard he was breathing. he was going to drown with his own drool as he stare at your naked body as you crawl your way to him.

your red ass from being spanked by his boss sway left and right. choso whines under his mask as soon as he feels your delicate hands on his thighs, looking up at his him with puppy eyes hungry for his fat cock.

you slowly unzip his pants before your eyes widen at how embarrassingly flush his cock was, it was so pumped, his tip glowing red as white precum drips out of it.

his thighs shake once you lick the precum that was dripping before shoving his whole cock down your throat. choso couldn't hold it back anymore as he whines and sobs pathetically.

you can hear wet sloppy sounds. sounds from your husband stroking his fat cock at the sight of you. it made you even more horny. knowing he's watching you suck one of his guards cock. while pumping his own cock with his huge vieny hands.

sukuna makes his way toward you before you feel him grab your hair and shoves your head up and down, guiding your mouth down choso's cock.

hearing the way the guard was whimpering and gasping while sukuna is pushing your head down his cock was making your pussy really wet.

"just like that you fucking dirty whore". sukuna groans out while he fists his cock so close to cumming just as close as choso was.

choso throws his head back, eyes rolling back his skill, thighs tensing before he spurts his hot cum down your throat at the same time sukuna grunts and cums all over your face.

choso shakes under you, the pleasure overwhelming and too much. everything he’s ever dreamt of is right in front of his eyes.

"she's so wet, do you want a taste?" sukuna smirked before offering your fingers that were coated with your juice up to choso.

choso didn't care enough to hide behind his mask anymore. he desperately needed to taste you.

he swiftly removes his mask revealing his sweaty flushed face before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling his fingers closer to his mouth. his tongue rolled out of his mouth, sliding across your fingertips to taste your addicting juice.

choso popped your fingers into his mouth, fully drooling and sucking on your slender fingers. spit trailing from your rosy knuckles to your wrist, the lewd display causing you to clench your thighs.

sukunas tsk before firmly speaking up.

"you have two choices. you either fuck her tight little pussy right now and I'll kill you after".

"or you can leave the game and act like nothing every happened." sukuna offers.

choso doesn't have to think about it twice or hesitate before answering.

"fuck her right now".

taglist : @after-laughter-come-tears @princessbunnys-things @beetleluu @lavenderdaydream97 @des-todoroki @sukunadckrider @luvleyprincess @bunnygirlgonewild @cajunfootrub @iveivory @suicidollz @evieloves @mourart7 @okayiamkassandra @xxdiaqiaoxx @mjustag1rl @thequeenofcurses @mimi321us

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

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Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must��ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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er1nne · 2 months ago

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rafe hates when you buy things without using his card

(do not copy or plagarize, original work) The Range Rover hummed quietly, its blacked-out interior wrapping you and Rafe in a cocoon of shadows and muted streetlights. It had been his idea to take you for a nail day—completely unprompted but not surprising. Rafe had a way of knowing when you needed a little spoiling, especially after the week you’d had. The air smelled like his cologne, something expensive and sharp, mixing with the faint scent of leather from the seats. You were reclined comfortably with both legs stretched out, your freshly painted white toes wiggling lazily as you scrolled through your phone.

Rafe sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. His thumb stroked absentminded circles into your skin while his sharp blue eyes flicked toward the darkened street ahead. Traffic was crawling, a sea of red taillights stretching endlessly ahead. Rafe didn’t seem too bothered, one hand resting on the wheel while the other stayed on your thigh. His thumb moved in slow, hypnotic circles against your skin, his blue eyes flicking between the road and the glow of your phone screen. He was calm—you liked him this way.

“What’s got you so quiet, huh?” His voice broke the silence, smooth but with an edge that always demanded your attention.

“Just trying to check out before everything sells out,” you mumbled, barely glancing up. You were busy, furiously tapping away as you finalized your cart. The latest House of CB drop was a battlefield, and you weren’t about to lose.

“Lemme see.” He leaned closer, his sharp gaze cutting toward your screen. When he caught sight of the digits you were typing, his brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Wait, is that your card?”

You paused, immediately bracing for what was coming. “Yeah? Why?”

Rafe let out a short, irritated laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have all of my cards saved to your phone, and you’re using your own card? What the hell for?”

“It’s not a big deal, Rafe.” You kept your voice calm, like you weren’t trying to spark an argument in the middle of what was such a nice day. “It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Afford it?” he repeated, voice tinged with a certain tone to it. “Sweetheart, I literally pay for your life. Why do you even have a card? For decoration?”

You glared at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he cut in, shaking his head as if the idea itself was absurd. “What are you holding onto that thing for? Just in case I drop dead tomorrow and you suddenly need it?”

You huffed an air of annoyance as a pout covered your slightly glossed lips and starred out the car window. The car filled with an almost unbearable silence. His hand, which had been rubbing your thigh, went still.

He turned to glance at you a few times before looking back at the road, the corner of his mouth twitching with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Afford-” he repeated again slightly scoffing, voice low and slow, like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms leaning slightly closer to his natural warmth. “It’s not that much.”

“To you. To me, that’s pocket change.” His fingers drummed a little harder against the steering wheel now, a restless energy creeping into his movements more obvious than ever.

“Rafe,” you started to whine, but he cut you off, shaking his head.

“Nah. Don’t start.” He turned fully to face you now, his hand lifting to cup your jaw, gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “Why do you always make this a thing? Is it so hard to let me take care of you? That’s why I’m here. To take care of you. You’re supposed to let me.”

Your resolve faltered under his intense gaze. He wasn’t just irritated—he was hurt. His words were a reminder, the same ones he’d given you before. Rafe wasn’t just possessive for the sake of it—he hated seeing you stress over anything, especially when he had the means to give you whatever you needed, whenever you wanted it. He didn’t want you holding onto burdens you didn’t have to carry. He’d told you before how it made him feel when you refused to lean on him, how he hated the idea of you ever struggling when he had the means to make your life easier. Rafe always told you how much he loved taking care of you, he felt proud to. Anything you ever want, he would give you, plus more.

“I’m not helpless,” you said softly, and it sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Did I say that you were?” he shot back immediately, his sharp blue eyes flicking from the road to meet yours. There was no trace of anger in his voice, just a steady, unyielding determination. “I know what you’re capable of. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze softening, though his tone stayed firm. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re mine, remember? So stop making it harder than it needs to be. Let me do my job.”

Even while navigating the slow-moving traffic, his focus on you didn’t waver. His eyes flicked back to yours, holding them for just a second longer than he should have, but long enough to make your heart skip a beat. You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet conviction in his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe…” you started. You stared at him for a long moment before finally relenting, handing over your phone with a quiet sigh. “Fine. Just this once.”

He smirked, already deleting your card details and replacing them with his own Amex Black information. The confirmation dinged almost immediately, and he handed the phone back to you, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “There. Easy. Now you’ve got your shit, and I’ve got my peace of mind.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you avoided his eyes.

Rafe tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. “Don’t thank me, baby. Just stop making this harder than it has to be. Just let me take care of you?” A small pout covered your slighly glossed lips as you responded to him in a small voice, "Okay."

“That’s my girl,” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, hand returning to your thigh as he glanced toward the street, his usual sharp focus slipping back into place.

You smiled slightly, your frustration melting away as you leaned into him. Because no matter how stubborn you could be, you both knew he’d always win in the end. And deep down, you didn’t mind.

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mrs-trophy-wife · 1 year ago

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#persona #goals #rr #car interior #rolls royce #red leather #red leather seats #Dior #lady Dior #Python #handbag #bag #purse #red

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shouyuus · 20 days ago

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18+, mdni, vi-shaped but what else is new

car mechanic!vi who's basically been working at her dad's autoshop hounds auto since she was like seven years old, running around handing vander the fuel pressure meter and fetching water, who grows up in the garage to the point that all vander's regulars know her by name and also all her favorite sweets (bc she DOES have a sweet tooth, despite her tomboy looks).

car mechanic!vi who's closet is exclusively stained gray tanktops, leather jackets gifted to her by all her dad's patrons, and old denim from thrift shops bc she likes how they feel worn in and also why bother getting "nice" clothes if they're just gonna get greased up anyway? who hums to herself when she's working, always has a cool beer chilling in the garage fridge and is doing her best to make sure she can send powder to caltech bc she knows her sister is a genius and is gonna be like a rocket scientist one day.

car mechanic!vi who laughs when you pull up one day with your 1960's cherry red corvette, climbing out of the driver's seat with your white fishnets and your pink croptop and your plaid miniskirt, your heart-shaped sunglasses propped on top of perfectly blown out bangs, and the only thing vi can think when she lands eyes on you is how much she'd enjoy taking you apart on the hood of your car, your thighs hiked onto her shoulders, your palm-prints inked into the bright red paint of your car.

car mechanic!vi who grins slow, slings a greasy towel on her shoulder as she comes out to greet you, hitching an eyebrow as you motion towards the car, your cheeks stained the most adorable shade of pink she's ever seen, saying --

"i think there's something wrong with it --" but when you purse your perfectly glossed, cherry-tinted lips, vi has to force herself not to lose focus because sweet baby jesus on a harley, that should be illegal.

"-- think you can help...?" you shuffle your feet, glancing at her even as she takes her time looking you over, doing nothing to hide the way her eyes rake over the length of your body and back up again.

"sure thing, sweets. mind if i pop the front?"

you swallow, nodding eagerly; vi doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on her arms and perhaps flexes harder than is absolutely necessary when opening up the front hood of the car.

car mechanic!vi who bends over to take a closer look and actually does miss the way you physically have to tear your eyes away from the bend of her ass, because holy shit? it does not help that vi shifts to lean further into the hood, a slip of skin peaking out from beneath her tanktop, and suddenly, there's a spring-water rush of blood behind your ears, threatening to drown out all other sound as she pulls back with a shrug.

"looks like the cooling system's busted," she says, scratching at the back of her neck, frowning as she looks back at you, "there's a couple things we can do --"

you swallow, "just a couple?" you ask, before you can stop yourself. you squeeze your eyes shut as the words leave your mouth. woops. fuck.

car mechanic!vi who blinks, cocking her head at you before a smirk teases across her lips. she leans back against the front of your car, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

"yeah, for the car. but... dunno, if you wanna stick around for a bit, i can think of a ton more things we can do..."

you lick your lips, scuffing your mary janes against the cool pavement of her garage.

"define a bit... and also a ton..."

vi's grin is crooked; there's a fox-bright gleam in her eyes as she pushes off the car and makes her way towards you -- and for a moment, you can't help but wonder if she's a lamb in wolf's clothing, or perhaps (the thought singes a tantalizing line up your spine) just the damned wolf itself.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that for the car, she can either order all the parts that have suffered wear and tear, and then just replace them.

"issue with that is, in these older models, even with the parts replaced, it won't last you too long before you'll need them redone again."

"so..." you teeter, looking around at the various tools hung across the walls, every inch of space utilized to maximize efficiency, the high ceilings, the slow-turning fans, the propped up cars, some missing the front two wheels, some just a skeleton of mechanical parts.

"but lucky for you, one of my old man's pals just put a brand new crossflow radiator into his 1960's corvette, and he paid me to help him rig it. and i can do the same for you."

by the way vi smiles, it's obvious that this is the option she thinks you should go for. you blink.

"cross... flow... what?"

vi stares for a few seconds before letting out a startled laugh.

"wait -- i thought you said this was your car?"

you nod, fiddling with your hands behind your back.

"and... you've got no idea how to take care of a vintage car like this, do you?"

you shake your head, feeling a now-familiar heat prickling into your cheeks.

"my -- my dad got it for me for my 21st birthday..." you say, just on the other side of petulant.

car mechanic!vi who hums low in her throat and closes the distance between you in a few quick steps, a hand drifting up to trace along the line of our cheek.

"and you're just daddy's little princess, aren't you?" she asks, noticing with a dull ache in her belly, the way your breath hitches at the word princess.

she bites back another smirk as you bob your head once, your eyes flickering down to her lips before refocusing on her again.

"well..." she draws out the word, tugging back, a satisfied warmth pooling in her chest at the way your lips push out into perfect pout at her distance, "if you wanna give you daddy a call to ask what he might want..." she lets her words trail off. but you're already shaking your head, your eyes bright, your expression over-eager.

(she thinks you just might be the end of her; if she doesn't end you first.)

"no!" you squeak, "i -- i mean -- whatever you think is best --" you amend hurriedly, blushing something furious as vi leans back up against her workbench, her gaze locked on the shape of you, the hunger in her eyes now so evident that it sparks goosepimples down the lengths of your arms.

"yeah? you trust me that much, pretty girl?"

you nearly go into anaphylactic shock; your lashes flutter.

vi thinks she might honestly blow a fuse as you look shyly back at her, your gaze somehow both molten and hard.

"y-yeah. i do. i -- i trust you."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time drawing up a plan for your repairs, but when you glance over the receipt, you notice that the number at the bottom is way, way too long, and you're fairly certain (even in your advanced stages of crush-induced lightheadedness) dollar amounts aren't usually broken up by dashes.

"is this... where i should send the payment?" you ask, holding up the handwritten receipt.

vi grins, tossing you a look over her shoulder as she steps out from behind the wheel of your car, now parked safely in her garage.

"nope. that's just my number."

"your..." you look back down at the scribbled series of digits. oh.

"so... are you gonna text me the final cost?"

vi chuckles, "sure, sweets -- if that's what you'd like. and if you're feelin' real frisky -- we can text about other stuff too."

your breath catches in your throat like thread around a barbed wire fence. you nearly drop the receipt.

"l-like what?" you ask.

"oh... i dunno..." vi says, the tease now obvious in her voice as she makes her way around the shop, gathering this tool and that, bending down to haul a massive toolbox from beneath a set of shelves. your mouth physically waters at the flex in her biceps as she carries it all back over to her workbench.

"maybe about the kinda coffee you like," she says, leisurely, "or how you'd like your eggs in the morning."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time in asking if you'd like to go out the next day, because as much as she really loves the thought of pinning you to the hood of your car right then and there, a part of her wants to do this properly. and, she muses, there's no better foreplay than sharing a banana split sundae with a pretty girl.

she sends you on your way with the receipt tucked into your miniature handbag ("what's that even hold anyway?" "uhm... my card wallet, the keys, and lip gloss!" "...ah. of course. all the most essential things.") and a promise to pick you up the following day, since your ride's temporarily out of commission ("don't worry, sweets, i'll take real good care of this baby right here." you immediately wonder if it's normal to feel jealous of a car).

and pick you up she does, at 6pm on the dot, in black pants so tight they might've been painted on, and a cropped leather jacket, though you hear her revving her motorbike a full 30 seconds before her text dings on your phone --

look outside, sweetness.

car mechanic!vi who is so polite to your rather bewildered parents, smiles wide and charming, easily slips into conversation with your dad about the vintage cars in his collection, calls your mom "m'aam" and compliments her pearl earrings, promises not to keep you out too late. so that by the time she tells you to swing onto the bike behind her, you're convinced that your parents might like her more than they like you.

"hold on tight, princess." is all she says before she rips off down the street of your cul de sac and you're yelping, burying your face in her back, the leather of her jacket butter-soft and warm against your skin.

car mechanic!vi who's just a bit too smug and more than a little smitten when she has to help you off her bike in the parking lot of the cute little retro-themed diner downtown, you shaking out your hair from the helmet she'd handed you, your cheeks painted sunset as she guides you into the restaurant with a palm at the small of your back.

who enjoys talking to you way too much, who wants to bottle up the sound of your laughter in one of those old fashioned coca-cola bottles, all sweet and bubbly, and save it for the summer afternoons when the air's thick enough to slick the skin, pop it open and pour it down her throat, swallow around the sound of you, giggling into the curly fries, debating with her about the perfect ketchup-to-mustard ratio for the most optimum fry-eating experience.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that the sundaes here are the best in town, and nearly melts at how bright your eyes get, how excited you look as you nod and flag down the waitress to order one.

"just one?" the waitress asks.

"trust me, one is more than enough," vi answers smoothly, shooting you a wink that might've induced heart failure in a weaker soul (and you truly do not think you're one of god's strongest soldiers bc you definitely had to take a mental breather after that).

but it turns out that she was quite right, because the banana split is huge. dauntingly-sized. and vi perhaps has too good of a time watching you gape over it (she's not at all thinking about how your cute lil mouth, so round now, would look stretched over her strap, not at all nope, nope, nope) before motioning for you to dig in.

car mechanic!vi who thinks, for the first time, that she might've bitten off more than she can chew (metaphorically, of course) when you cut off way too big of a bite, and white whipped cream smears across your lips as you struggle to get the whole thing in your mouth, your cheeks puffed out, lashes fluttering.

"careful there, sweets -- don't want you to hurt yourself," she says, in a decent stab at her usual suave tone, but her voice comes out just a bit hoarse as she reaches out to try and wipe some of the whipped cream from your lips at the exact moment your tongue flicks out to do the same --

her stomach clenches as your tongue accidently laves along the pad of her thumb and the dollop of cream drops onto the table between you.

"whoops," you say, your shoulders shrugging up as you finally swallow the bite of banana and cream, reaching for a napkin to wipe your mouth before dabbing at the tabletop.

when you glance up at vi, she's still staring, her expression strangely blank as you meet her eyes. but the second your gaze catches on hers, you see the way her pupils dilate, darkness eating into pre-dawn blue.

car mechanic!vi who tries her level best not to fidget too hard as the pair of you diligently make your way through as much of the sundae as possible, before you toss down your fork with a sigh, shaking your head.

"wow, i'm so full!"

"mm... could be fuller, i'm sure," vi murmurs into your ear, grinning when you shiver at the low sway of her voice, the gentle dance of her fingers on your waist.

"v-vi!" you squeak, even as she ushers you from the diner with a bright grin at the waitress, promising to come by again soon, and to send their love to her dad and younger sister.

and fuck, she really did think she wanted to take this slow, but holy shit, she can't wipe the image of you swallowing around the mouthful of cream from her mind, the feeling of your warm tongue as it'd flicked across the pad of her thumb.

"c'mon, sweet girl," she says, grazing her lips along the soft spot behind your ear and your knees almost buckle then and there, but her strong arm is looped around your waist as she helps you back onto her bike and cups your cheeks, "god, you have no idea what you do to me, huh?"

your breath hitches; what you do to her? what about what she does to you?

car mechanic!vi who can't help the way she presses in to kiss you, hesitating for a breath to ask can i? against your lips before you're nodding, just as eager as she is, and tugging her in to kiss her. you taste as sweet as she'd imagined (and lord, has she been imagining, even though it's been less than 24 hours), the lingering taste of whipped cream and chocolate syrup on your tongue as she licks hungrily into your mouth, moaning as you whimper, your thighs squeezing around her hips, your ass nearly slipping off the seat of her bike.

she hitches you back up without breaking the kiss, heat rolling up into her neck and shoulders as she feels your fingers twisting in her hair.

"f-fuck --" she pulls back breathless, her head spinning, her eyes caught on the press of your kiss-bruised lips, the way you purse them as you glance up at her, already looking so debauched she's tempted to pull you into the shadow of the diner and take you against the wall.

but, she falls half a step back and breathes, grinning crookedly as you pout at her.

"a-are you gonna take me back to your place, or not?".

car mechanic!vi who lets out a startled laugh and cocks her head, thinking that really there is a god, and that this -- just you, sitting on the black leather of her bike, your hair a bit mussed up, your cheeks flushed with color, asking her to take you to hers -- is all the proof she needs.

"you really are a spoiled little princess, aren't you?" she asks, swinging her leg over the bike seat and adjusting her grip. your arms loop around her middle and she tries not to groan at the feeling of your body pressing up against hers.

"well, daddy always told me that i shouldn't settle for anything less than the best," you say, and your voice would've been lofty, had it not been for the way you lean up to ghost your lips by the shell of vi's ear, chasing shivers down the length of her entire spine.

her stomach roils with heat. she turns to shoot you a smirk over her shoulder.

"well then. guess i'll just have to ruin you for every other girl who might come your way, huh?"

car mechanic!vi who definitely breaks the sound barrier tearing through the few streets separating the downtown strip and the auto shop, who's barely done parking the bike before she's pulling you bodily off the seat, hitching your legs around her waist and carrying you into the shop, slamming a hand on the switch to close the garage door.

she's already kissing you by the time she sets you on the hood of your car, the height of it perfect for her to pull back and pin you down by your wrists. she thinks that you have no business looking so perfect against the bright cherry of the paint, and grins as she looks you over, pressing a knee up between your legs just to hear your breath hitch and admire the way your cute little plaid skirt rides up.

car mechanic!vi who drops to her knees, pillows her cheek on your thigh and groans as she flips up the hem of your skirt to press her the flat of her tongue to the damp patch already soaking through your pink lace panties. who's mesmerized by the sight of you arching your back on the hood of your car, your fingers scrabbling at the smooth metal, reaching down till you can grip at her hair, your lips parting over your little whimpers and moans -- she thinks, faintly, that she wants to fuck you till your voice goes hoarse.

"vi -- what if -- is anyone -- ah --"

she can't help smiling at the way you can't quite get a full thought out, leaning back as she hooks her fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs till they're dangling off one of your delicate ankles.

"no one's here, sweetness -- so you can be as loud as you want," she says, reaching down to slick her fingers between your pussy, admiring the shine on her skin.

"b-but what if -- mmngh -- someone c-comes -- b-back --"

and it's cute, really, how worried you are about all of it, even as she teases a finger around your sodden hole, her thumb flicking up against your clit, making your body jerk up. she smiles, easing a finger in with a soft groan of her own, relishing the way you squeeze around her.

"mm, well -- let's see..." she says, her voice low and steady even as she tugs back her finger and pushes it in again, slow as anything, "my dad's out drinking at my uncle's bar across town, and my baby sister's at benzo's place with ekko --" she allows herself a crooked grin as you keen around her just as she presses a second finger into you, "they said they were studying but..." she shrugs, her eyes hooded as she watches you squirm beneath her, "i'm pretty sure they're hooking up so --" she runs a tight circle around your clit with her thumb, puffing out a breath as your thighs clamp shut around her wrist and she has to pry them back open with her other hand, pinning your knee to the hood of your car, keeping your other leg still with one of her's.

"the only person you gotta worry about coming... is yourself, princess."

car mechanic!vi who fucks you through two orgasms, eats you out for a third, before finally letting up and carrying you up to her bedroom above the auto shop, asking if you want to text your parents that you're staying the night.

you do, and vi only teases you a little bit about being such a good girl, but she lets you burrow in against her chest, lets you kiss her neck and tug her phone from her hands before planting one on her lips and trailing your way down her chest, tugging at her tanktop till she laughs and pulls it from her body.

car mechanic!vi who nearly loses her mind when you look up at her from between her legs, all wide eyes and parted lips, pressing your perfectly manicured nails into the corded muscles of her thighs and asking her in the sweetest voice to

"show me what you like -- please? i -- i wanna make you feel good too."

car mechanic!vi who fucks your face till both of you are breathless, her hips bucking up against your perfect mouth, her mind fizzling out at the edges at the way you're moaning into her cunt, the way you're grinding your hips down over nothing as she talks you through how to eat her out just the way she likes. who jerks you up and hauls you into her lap to kiss you sloppy, her fingers digging into the meat of your hips as she grinds you down over her still-throbbing clit, who fucking can't get over the sight of you riding her even as both of you tip into the realm of overstimulation, whining and keening and you collapsing onto her in the muted, twilight dark of her room.

"h-holy shit..."

vi laughs, "yeah. you can say that again."

you look up, a soft, pliant smile, "holy shit, violet..."

and the sound of her name on your lips convinces her, more than anything, that (contrary to all her big talk earlier), you're definitely the one who's ruined her for any other girl who might come her way.

car mechanic!vi who wakes up to your lips on hers, who groans into the taste of you, kissing you, rolling over to pin you beneath her even as the early morning sun spills lemon-bright and spring-water-sweet through her half-closed blinds.

"morning, princess," she mumbles against your lips.

"morning..." you giggle, gasping as she drops a tender kiss to your shoulder.

"sleep well?" she asks, trailing down the smooth skin of your chest till she can lave her tongue around your puffy nipple.

"mm --" you suck in a breath, "y-yeah -- had -- had good d-dreams -- a-ah!" you arch up into her, your body soft and warm as a daydream, and she just can't get enough.

"yeah? tell me... what'dyou dream of, hm?" vi asks, letting the world hum through her throat, rumbling over your skin like thunder across a distant horizon.

you twist your fingers into her hair, gently tracing the tattoo on her cheek before smiling down at her with a smile that looks like the shadow of the rest of her living days --

"i... i dreamt of you."

car mechanic!vi who comes downstairs to find vander in the kitchen, powder nowhere to be seen. but vander takes one look at her and grins, chuckling, rolling his eyes.

"alright then -- what's her name?"

she hesitates for a second before telling him.

"pretty name," vander muses, even as he tugs open the fridge to pull out a few eggs and a half-empty carton of milk. he pushes the milk towards vi with a pointed look.

"vander -- i -- i think she might be the one."

to which vander only laughs, cracking an egg with one hand into the oiled up pan. almost immediately, the egg whites begin to sizzle.

"this the girl with the cherry corvette?" he asks. wordlessly, vi nods. vander chuckles.

"good for you kiddo -- i always told you, haven't i?"

"that i'll know when it's the one? yeah... i -- i think i get it now." vi runs a hand through her bedridden hair, staring at the carton of milk and the ludicrously proportioned cartoon cow, advertising full fat contents within.

"well, as long as you're sure," vander says, cracking another egg, and another.

vi lets out a weak laugh, nodding as she opens the fridge to pull out some orange juice and a few boxes of blueberries.

"yeah. i'm sure."

vander nods, brows furrowing slightly as he flips the eggs with an expert twitch of the wrist.

"good. and -- how's she like her eggs done in the morning?" he asks, reaching over for a plate. vi stares at the over-easy eggs sliding from the old nonstick.

she lets out a tired little laugh, "probably like... poached, or something."

vander whistles, "got yourself a little diva, huh? well -- can't blame ya -- your uncle silco --"

"okay, thanks dad --" vi cuts him off with a deep groan, nudging him out of the way to place a small pot in the sink to fill with water.

vander chuckles, "you gonna introduce me when she comes down later?"

vi takes her time placing the pot on the stove and starting the heat.

"sure, yeah. i'll introduce her."

vander reaches over to ruffle vi's hair, cackling when she tries to duck out from beneath his massive hands.

"'m happy for you, violet."

vi stills, a helpless smile spreading across her lips like sun-warmed butter.

"yeah... me too." she says, "me too."

#⛈ monsoon season #this is 4k words i need to be taken out by the FIRING SQUAD #♨ steamy #arcane #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #vi arcane smut #vi x you #arcane x you #vi x y/n #arcane x y/n #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #lesbian #car mechanic!vi #i have so many more thoughts about her lord please give me strength.#also i adore dad!vander okay i just hes so good u_u

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inmaki · 1 year ago

Text

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

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