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starsofang · 13 days ago

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART SEVENTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, degrading, mentions of death/blood, dove is called some nasty words, please heed warnings for this chapter masterlist a/n: girlbossed a little too hard and finished the chapter a day early. posting this after my 14 hour shift with nothing but hope and dreams. this chapter is a long one, i think the longest one so far, so have fun :p

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Up close, Graves was even more sinister than imagined. It was as if you were living in your own nightmare come to life, with beady eyes crinkling back at you as a curled smile stretched over his face. Adorned in all black from head to toe, with the only spouts of color being the mess of dark blonde atop his head, nearly covered by the old, leather pirate hat.

His skin was deathly pale, a feat you knew to be from his reaping sins. To take a life in return for a piece of his—a soul bind.

If he weren’t such a sick man, you’d dare say he’d been handsome, if it weren’t for the look of rotting to the core. His personality did no justice, something cocky and mighty. He knew exactly how to play his game, and he played it well.

In your turmoil, you dared to wonder if all of this was indeed another nightmare. Perhaps you were still asleep, stuck in an endless loop until Soap or Gaz awoke you as they always did; but with a sharp pinch on your thigh beneath the thin covers of Price’s bedspread, the world remained at ease.

This one wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Graves mused, smile so wide you worried the corners would crack and bleed. You wished you could see him writhe like a helpless roach beneath your shoe. “Why the long face?”

“How—” You swallowed, fisting the sheets. “How are you here?”

Graves stood straight, glancing around the room. He pretended to ponder, holding his arms up to shrug. “I let myself in.”

Your eyes followed his every move as he slowly stepped throughout Price’s quarters, taking it in. You sat as still as a statue, completely frozen in place. The sound of his heavy boots along the wood floors rang alarm bells.

The air in the room fell icy cold, rising goosebumps on your skin. There was that frigid chill that felt as if you’d just stepped into a slaughterhouse, a hint of decay tickling your nostrils.

This was the feel of death you’d always felt, lingering behind you, watching. He’d always been there, even if only in your mind.

“Where is the Captain?” you asked, attempting to make your voice firm. Show no weakness—it was the very thing you’d been taught since your first day on the ship. You hoped Price would be proud that you remembered.

Graves’ eyebrows raised and while his smile remained, it only seemed to glimmer with excitement when the question was asked, as if you asked a dog if he wanted a bone.

“He truly has you on a leash,” he snickered, finding something amusing in all of it. “You’re like their little bitch, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran hot at the demeaning nature his words brought, but you knew better. They were for show, something to make him appear taller. If you fell for it, you’d only be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“No,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I am a pirate, just as them.”

Graves barked out a laugh, one that made your ears bleed. It was meant to deplete your confidence, poisoned with arrogance.

“Is that right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “A pirate, are you?”

Graves stalked towards you, agonizingly slow, stopping when his knees bumped the side of the cot. He leaned down so his face was level with yours, empty eyes peering deep within your soul. His breath reeked of death and despair, nearly knocking you unconscious.

“I’d like to test that.”

His icy hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you out of the bed. With a yelp, you stumbled to your feet, bare of their shoes. The world beneath your soles felt foreign now, ever since Soap had given you your gift and you’d never take them off unless you were falling asleep.

The grip was tight, causing your heartbeat to thump through your muscles angrily. Your skin under his hand paled from the sheer force.

Graves tugged you along as you fought to resist him, squirming and attempting to plant your feet to the floor. Without the help of your shoes compared to his unruly strength, your fight was deemed useless. He continued dragging you, so much so you could feel little splinters begin to dig into your soles and invoke dull pangs of pain.

Fear filled your body from head to toe, your heart pounding against your rib cage. A lump filled your throat, coated with anxiety. Your mind filled with millions of thoughts, smothering any confidence you previously had and replacing it with the idea of death.

Was this where all would end? Your crew was one of the most feared among the seas, a healthy bounty placed over their heads. But there would always be one person above, and that person was Graves.

Every kick, bump, resist was fruitless as Graves hauled you to the door. What lay beyond it terrified you, images of your men dead flashing before your eyes.

Coated in their own bloodbaths, bodies laid limp amongst the floors of their own homes, sprawled out as if they meant nothing. Oh, you couldn’t bear it. You’d have to go, too—you’d have nothing left.

When Graves opened the door, you weren’t sure if the sight was any better.

It was dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky, granting no room for light. A single lantern was all that was left to cast orange shadows, its fire flickering in a dance for a way out.

Your crew was lined shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in a submissive front, hands bound with thick rope behind their backs. Graves’ men, his Shadows, held the barrel of their guns to each of their heads.

Though the sight was an improvement from what you initially prepared yourself for, it was far from good. It was bordering those images, a glimpse into what could be a massacre.

The moment you were out of Price’s quarters, Graves let go of you, shoving you. You lost your balance, tumbling to your side, your head slamming into the deck. Pain blossomed under your skull and you hissed in pain.

“Dove?” you heard one of them call out. Your head spun, making it hard to figure out who it was.

A heavy blow landed on your side where you lay, and you wheezed, Graves’ boot unexpected. It kept you in place, applying pressure to guarantee you wouldn’t try to flee and fight back.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Price growled. You could recognize it, filled with a burning venom that dared to kill anyone that was in its crossfire. “This has nothin’ to do with her.”

“It’s all to do with her,” Graves spat, digging the toe of his boot into your rib cage. His previous cockiness had melted away, revealing his boiling rage. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

Graves lifted his boot, granting you a brief moment of relief before it slammed back down. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, leaving you croaking out a plea to stop.

You coiled in on yourself, curling into a ball in attempts to lessen the damage. It did nothing to stop his boot from weighing on your side. The pain felt like nothing you’d experienced before, and you were sure you felt a bone crunch.

“Dove,” Gaz called out, frantic. He tried leaning forward to get a glimpse of your face, to search for your eyes, but the barrel of the gun only pressed deeper into the back of his skull in warning. “Dove, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, alright? I’m right here.”

Your eyes were widened with fear, chest heaving to catch the breaths that were stolen from you. You couldn’t move, frozen in place, even as Gaz called out for you with the threat of a bullet through his head.

“I don’t know what you’re plannin’, Graves,” Price snarled, “but this is between us.”

Graves laughed diabolically, throwing his head back. It only made everything much more tense.

“Isn’t she apart of you now?” Graves humored, cocking his head. His fingers drummed along the gun in its holster on his hip. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s a pirate. I believe those were your words, Price.”

The realization that Graves knew had you going cold. The closer he got, the stronger the connection became.

“What the hell is it ye want?” Soap asked through gritted teeth. His eyes were darting back and forth between your crumpled form and Graves. “S’always somethin’ with ye, aye?”

Graves eyed Soap, a glint in his gaze. There was something unfamiliar in it, as if he held a personal grudge towards the man in question.

“There is something I want,” Graves agreed, letting out a dramatic sigh. He tapped at the gun once again, staring up at the sky in thought. “I think dove here knows exactly what that is.”

Graves dug his boot once again, peering down at you as if you were scum. You couldn’t stop the small whimper from the agony drumming in your side.

“Go on, dove,” Graves taunted, grinning. “Tell them.”

“I don’t know,” you panted. You were unfocused, eyes staring at the old floor from where your head rested.

You tried recalling what it is he could want, anything at all, but nothing was becoming clear. You scavenged through the deepest parts of your brain for even a simple clue, but the blows had made you dazed.

“I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

“You do know,” Graves repeated, cutting off the Captain. His tone grew annoyed. “Think real hard, dove.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, shoulders beginning to shake. All the built up confidence to fight back had vanished into thin air. Now, you felt like a scared little girl, begging for mercy.

Graves’ boot lifted, then returned back down. A string of curses were thrown his way from your crew, who were thrashing in the binds, unable to aid you under the lineup of guns to their heads.

You felt wetness cascade down your cheeks, dampening your skin and falling down to the side of your head from the angle you laid. It was then you realized you were crying, embarrassingly so.

Only mere hours ago you were deemed a pirate, and yet at the start of war, you fell apart like a damsel.

“The telescope,” Ghost said, voice low. It was the first he’d spoken, only sitting there silently as you were beaten down. His head hung low, as if ashamed, though the darkness in his eyes was enough to cast doom across entire continents. “He’s talkin’ about the telescope.”

You blinked away the tears, eyes burning. Realization dawned on you the moment Ghost spoke. Through your huddled position, you tried to tilt your chin down to meet his eye. As if thinking the same thing, he lifted his head, connecting your gazes. You could see that familiar apology pooling out of him, expressing everything he needed to say.

Washed away to land and shore,

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

The telescope you found for Gaz was an innocent gesture. The sight of it called out to you, as if meant to be owned by you. If you would’ve known it was Graves it was calling, you would’ve thrown it into the deep sea so it could never be found again.

“So he speaks,” Graves mused sarcastically.

Ghost broke contact first, eyes boring into Graves. He looked murderous, plotting his own bloodbath with just a simple look. The dim light of the single lantern did nothing to lessen the ominous glow, only highlighting it.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him,” Soap hissed, scowling. The look of pure disgust was such a contrast to his normal, boyish grins.

Graves paid no mind to him, stuck in a contest with Ghost. The two of them had a dark force swirling between them, one that even outside made the air heavy and suffocating.

“A point for your bravery, Ghost,” Graves sighed dramatically, breaking his stare. He looked between each and every man, sparing you no glance while his boot remained in place. “My telescope. Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

You instantly shifted your eyes to look at Gaz, who seemed to be struggling with a decision. You knew why he was having a hard time—you gifted the telescope to him, unknowing of who it truly belonged to. It was something he treasured, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“I have it,” Gaz said lowly, head bowing. “It’s in my quarters. I’ll take you to it.”

Graves sucked his teeth, feigning pity. He shook his head, hand fully resting on the gun at his hip. “Not going to work on me, Gaz. I’m quite capable of getting it myself. You sit tight, aye?”

Gaz stiffened, expression growing grim. Nevertheless, he said nothing, deciding silence was the best contender for a fight bound to end in loss.

Graves gestured for the man behind Price to fetch the telescope from Gaz and Soap’s shared quarters. Price didn’t tear his eyes away from Graves once, even as the Devil of the Seas took out his own gun and pointed it right at Price’s forehead.

He pressed the barrel of the gun into Price’s forehead, indenting the skin. It was a snug fit, a perfect shot for Graves if he wished to end things the easy way.

Graves didn’t like it easy. He liked it fun.

“Scared we’ve caught on to your trail, aye?” Price bluffed, voice gravelly and malicious. “That’s why you came out here like a fuckin’ mutt, hidin’ in the storm until you found the right time to ambush us?”

“You have your dove to blame,” Graves replied nonchalantly, rubbing his boot back and forth along your side. The pressure had you sucking air through your teeth, eyes clenching shut. “She might be your new toy, but she’s just as much a mutt as I am.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Price snarled, body shaking with feverish rage. If he could pounce on Graves, you knew he would.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Captain,” Graves snickered, pulling back the hammer of the gun. It resounded a loud click, which translated to a warning bell in Price’s favor. “Such anger. That anger has never worked for you, Price. It didn’t work for Ghost—it won’t work for her.”

Price let out an animalistic growl, his lips pulling back in a sneer. You’d seen the Captain angry, and you’d seen him under the guise of a scary, ominous pirate who would kill any innocent bystander that stood in his way.

This was entirely different. This was personal. A build up. This was a storm that had been coming for ages, and you were only toeing the edges.

The Shadow returned, holding the telescope you’d gifted Gaz. It shimmered in the lantern’s glow, glinting its gold details and showing it off. It felt like a goodbye.

“I’d be real careful from now on, Graves,” Price warned. It was the first you ever heard him speak so menacingly, like the demon inside of him was erupting with a stream of hot lava filled with nothing but spewing hatred. “When I find you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself. String you up on my sails until you’re dry, toss you into the ocean to the sharks. I’ll take pleasure in watchin’ you burn until there’s nothin’ left but ash and dust.”

Graves took the telescope from his Shadow’s hand, inspecting it. The words Price spoke clearly struck a nerve, for the arrogant grin had vanished, replaced with a gloomy, threatened expression.

“Hm,” Graves huffed, letting his gun fall and placing it back in its holster. He signaled for his men to follow suit, and you watched as all weapons dropped. “I await the day that happens, Captain. Until then, keep your mutt on a leash, aye?”

Graves made no effort to untie the crew, leaving them bound as he gathered his men to walk the plank connecting the two ship. A long, woden plank that creaked under the weight, one od wish you could kick from its balance and send them flying into the dark sea.

The moment was brutally silent as they left. Nobody moved a muscle until Graves was on his ship, the plank pulled from its placement, and the skull flag waved goodbye as they set sail into the pit of the night.

Time stood still, but the second Graves and his crew were hidden in the waves, all hell broke loose. Price and Gaz worked together to unbind each other with their backs to one another, frantic to be released. Ghost sat silently, eyes staring into the floorboards as if they’d speak to him.

“Say somethin’, dove,” Soap begged, scooting on his knees to be by your side.

As if the dam broke, you began to cry once more, heartbreaking sobs coming right from your core. You curled up tighter into your ball, your hand resting on your side as if it would magically ease the pain.

“It hurts,” you replied, voice cracking.

You’d stayed strong up until that point. Now, you couldn’t hold up your front.

You were scared. You felt more helpless than ever. You couldn’t remain strong for the sake of pretend anymore. Everything hurt, and Graves’ presence shook you to your very core.

“I know,” he cooed. He made a frustrated noise when he struggled against the binds. “I know, dove. We’re right here, alright?”

It felt strange, being on the other side of the spectrum. You were used to being the one to aid people in their injuries, but now, it was you being comforted. You couldn’t grasp what your life had become.

Price was released from his binds, quickly helping Gaz slip out of his. While Gaz made quick work to move to work on Ghost, Price was by your side in an instant.

One hand rested on your hip, turning your body towards him while the other found your face, resting his palm on it. His eyes were filled with worry when you faced him and he urgently wiped at your tears with his thumb.

“Dove,” he breathed in relief, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. This was his fault. “You’re okay, I have you.”

You whimpered when he shifted so he could slide his arms beneath you, one under your shoulders and the other in the bend of your knees. The movement flared pain all over again, and Price murmured apologies, unsure of what to do.

He hurried to his quarters, his men following closely behind like scared dogs with their tails between their legs. Gaz held open the door, and you only caught a glimpse of his guilt-stricken expression before you were ushered in.

Price carefully slid you on to his cot, wincing every time you whimpered or cried. The pain felt excruciating, your breathing quick and labored.

“She needs a medic,” Soap stressed.

“She is a medic,” Gaz reminded, resting his hands on the edge of the cot so he could lean over and inspect your face. “We have no help besides her.”

“Well, she can’t treat herself, ye fuckin’ oaf,” Soap snipped, shooing him away from your space. “Cap, she needs to get checked. She can’t even breathe properly!”

Your head began to pound from the sheer loudness that filled the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache while simultaneously trying to correct your breathing.

You knew well enough that there was something shattered or broken. A rib, though small in theory, but dreadfully painful without the correct medicines. Not to mention the amount of force Graves had used—it was pure hell.

Price was silent, as was Ghost, the two of them sharing a conversation with just a look. There was an understanding shared, and Price gently shoved Gaz and Soap aside, replacing them.

He mimicked Gaz’s previous stance, leaning on the bed. His hand came to brush a stray tear away, frowning embedded in his mouth.

“Tell me what to do, dove,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever it is.”

You sniffled, hand shaking where they rested on your side. You shook your head, nearly deranged from the shock and horror of it all, unable to snap out of it.

“I—I can’t fix it on my own, Captain,” you quivered, lips trembling. “It hurts.”

Price nearly broke, filled with guilt. He glanced behind him at Ghost, who quickly looked away, hands balling into fists.

“I know,” he assured calmly, brushing his finger along your cheek where he wiped the tear away. “We’ll fix it, aye? You just have to sit tight until we can. Can you do that for us, dove?”

Though you knew the wait would be cruel—a slow healing process until you could receive proper care—you found yourself nodding shamelessly, instantly trusting Price and his promises.

Price nodded along with you, giving your cheek a comforting pinch. “Attagirl,” he praised, calming your nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut him,” Soap muttered, jaw pulled tight. “He’s fuckin’ dead.”

Gaz reached up to grip Soap’s nape, tugging at his hair. Soap threw him a glare, one Gaz promptly ignored, turning his attention to you.

“Listen to Cap, birdie,” Gaz encouraged warmly. “We’ll get you all fixed up. You won’t even know you’re hurtin’.”

Price had a look of hesitation when you caught his eye. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning in confusion before he spoke again, causing you to grow uncomfortable.

“We need to check it first, dove,” he said apologetically. “If you don’t feel well with all of us bein’ here, you can pick who you prefer. No hard feelin’s, hm?”

The idea that one, if not all, had to see you undressed in order to inspect the damage was one that made you a bit dazed. You’d never been seen beneath your raggedy clothes in the village, and the same applied for your time on the ship. It felt sacred, like your vulnerability was on the line, but you had to remind yourself that it was purely medical—you’d done it plenty of times when in practice at your old home.

“It—it is fine, just… just turn away, yes?” you pleaded, unable to meet any of them in the eye.

You heard a round of shuffling, only seeing Gaz elbow Soap in the corner of your vision. Once you were sure they feasted their eyes upon the old wall, you began to carefully lift your hips, biting your lip to muffle the pained noise that threatened to leave.

The hem of your dress was swiftly pulled up past your thighs, all the way until your torso was exposed. You stopped it beneath your breasts, quick to tug the blanket over your nakedness that remained uninjured and in no need to be checked.

The anxiety that pooled in your stomach left you queasy, but you toughed through it, knowing how important it was. If you had more than a mere fracture, it could become worse over time.

“Okay,” you said quietly, cringing when they turned to take you in. The men did their best to make you feel as at ease as possible, gearing their focus towards the nasty swelling on your side.

You dared to take a peek yourself, fearing for why they were so quiet. What you saw was ugly—swollen and puffy, beaten to the point it was already turning purple and blue. It was tender to the touch, even more so without clothing as a barrier.

The worst was the gnarly, black veins that spouted out like roots, dipping deep into the new bruising. It was inhuman, something completely out of the ordinary. You knew it was Graves’ dirty work, and it reminded you of when Ghost had cut his finger in the kitchen and his blood turned black, vanishing into thin air.

When you shifted your eyes from your injury, you searched for Ghost’s, who was hard-stuck on the veins. His body was tense, a darkness swirling in his irises.

“Ghost?” Soap tried, nudging the brute lightly. “Any idea what that is?”

Ghost glanced over to Soap before returning to your side, taking in the sight. “Could be anythin’,” he muttered, unsure. “I don’t know what all he’s capable of. For all we know, it could already be infected.”

“Infected?” you asked, a worried chill racking through you.

Price reached out a careful hand to spread his fingertips along the veins. You choked on a gasp at the immediate discomfort, face scrunching up into a wince.

“We’re goin’ to a doctor,” Price nearly growled, taking his hand away. “I don’t care where. The moment we spot land, we’re goin’.”

“We still have bounties on our head, Cap,” Gaz reminded with a frown. “We can’t just go anywhere. It’s not the same as shoppin’. If we end up in the wrong place, we might get ourselves in deeper shit.”

“That is a risk I’m willin’ to take,” Price argued, firm in his stance. “If we start nitpickin’ where to go, it might be too late. You’re either in or out.”

The room fell silent as the men stared at their Captain. The answer to them was obvious, though you knew why they hesitated; if they were imprisoned, it would do you no good.

Emotions were high and the clock was ticking. It placed everyone on edge.

“I agree with Price.”

All heads turned to Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes boring into yours.

“It’s my fault she’s marked. So long as she gets fixed up, I could care less about bein’ thrown into a cell. I’m with Price,” he finished.

“Ghost—” you tried.

“I am quite firm in what I’ve decided,” he interrupted harshly before realizing his mistake, calming himself down. He looked away from you, crossing his arms a bit tighter. “I’m in no mood for arguments.”

You went quiet, watching Ghost turn towards the door and plot his escape. You knew out of everyone, he was affected the most, tormented with sickening guilt for all that’s transpired. You could only imagine how he felt, now that times had grown darker.

“Let him go,” Soap murmured softly, gaining your attention. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just worry ‘bout ye, aye?”

You were torn, but you nodded nonetheless, silently agreeing.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Price explained. “No use in movin’ you anymore than I have. I’ll get you situated for now, and then you can rest.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price muttered amongst themselves, discussing a brief plan of what to do. The two set off to find more pillows to extend your comfort while Price remained by your side, plopping himself in his chair with a heavy sigh. His elbows rested on its arms, his fingers coming up to rub at his temple.

He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent the longer you looked.

“I am sorry, Captain,” you said quietly, eyes glueing to the ceiling.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” he asked, frowning. “Got nothin’ to apologize for, dove. Our worry stems from care.”

“Yes, but,” you paused, gathering the words, “I have caused much trouble since my arrival. Things only seem to be harder for you.”

“Life was hard before you, dove,” he assured, letting his hand fall from his face. “That’s the way it goes. It is to no fault but the world.”

You took in his words, letting them sink in. You hadn’t known a true life of trouble before, the only hardships being your utter loneliness and daily taunts from the local villagers. This was something beyond your knowledge, and you were beginning to understand that there was more to life than simply displeasuring people. There was more than what meets the eye, but there was also light at the end of every tunnel.

“You do not see me as a mere burden?” you asked, and he huffed.

“What have I told you before?” Price pressed in return, tilting his head. “You are one of us. A true pirate, if that is what you’d like.”

“I am far from a pirate,” you scoffed to yourself, ashamed. “I could not even defend myself or any of you.”

“Dove,” Price called out softly. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “A loss is not always a failure. Some wars are too big to handle on your own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that. Why must you speak so lowly of yourself?”

You stared at him unblinking, studying the furrow of his eyebrows and the curl of his lips, hidden beneath his beard. The worry lines on his forehead showed years of hardship, and you wondered how he managed to live through it if you could barely survive your own smaller ones.

“I have known nothing else,” you confessed bitterly, though not towards him. You were angry, not only with yourself, but at life for dealing its deck of cards in such an unfair way.

“I see,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the armrests, getting lost in thought. “It was the same for me as well.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he sighed, picking at the splintering wood of the armrests. “My father was a captain before me. Had the tongue of a devil. Always angry, always cold—treated me like scum, even as a child.”

“I am sorry,” you murmured quietly. Price bristled, frowning.

“That is not the point, dove,” he replied. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the side of the bed, mere inches away from where you laid. You waited patiently for him to continue, keeping your gazes connected to show you were listening. “Some may treat you like a mutt on the street and deem your worth how they please. The only thing that matters is how you take it and how you come out of it.”

It dawned on you what he was implying. It was his way of comforting you, shielding you from your own burdening insecurities that never seemed to escape your mind.

“I could’ve remained angry and bitter, but now I captain my own ship and crew. The same applies for you—you may have experienced cruelty all your life, but you must take the reins on your own worth and decide what it is, dove.”

A blinding warmth shrouded you, like a blanket after being trapped in the icy cold, and you welcomed it with a smile. You’d never known Price to be so well with words, not int he way he was expressing now.

He knew what you needed to hear after being trapped in your own world of darkness, and he provided the light you needed to find your way out—all of them did. A glimmer of hope in a world full of loss.

“I am very thankful you kidnapped me,” you blurted, unable to contain your inner thoughts.

Price laughed, boisterous and loud, a smile washing over his face. It was a lovely sight, one that made your heart pound. Even through your pain, you found solitude in the aftermath, reaching a level of comfort you’d always wished to feel.

“I am happy to have you here despite it,” Price teased warmly. “I can say the same for the rest.”

You laughed, almost immediately regretting it at the shooting pain coursing in your side. He shot you a sympathetic smile, slowly standing from his chair.

“I will let you rest,” he said, giving you a gentle pat to your thigh over the blanket. Your heart jumped at the action, and you repressed it.

“You are not staying?” you asked, deflating.

“Soap and Gaz will be here with some more pillows soon. I must gather a plan so we can get you to a medic as soon as possible.”

It made sense, and you knew it was important. There was no telling what was flowing through the black veins, but your heart longed for more of his presence.

“Just for a moment longer?” you dared to request, voice small.

Price peered down at you from where he stood over you, a hint of surprise flashing on his expression before it softened. He nodded, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. You held on as long as you could.

“Just a moment then,” he repeated. “I will do it for you.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Your feelings were uncertain, but the more you spent with them, the clearer your vision became. It was an inner battle, forcing yourself to push them back in order to protect yourself. Now, though, you decided to allow yourself the comfort, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” you told him, unaware your voice had become a mere whisper. The air between you felt heavy, as if something unspoken was there.

Price glanced down at your hands that remained interlinked before shifting his gaze back at you. The gears in his mind were turning, and just as you were about to ask if it was alright, he beat you.

“I am not an emotional man,” he murmured quietly, seeming just as unsure as you were. “I make very stupid decisions and take paths I shouldn’t take. One of them is tellin’ me to kiss you, and I’m not sure if that’s alright.”

You froze in place, eyes growing wide. You were unable to look away, lost in your own little moment. Everything in you was yelling yes, yes, yes! and it was hard to ignore. You had always been weak in your feelings.

“Gaz tried to when I gifted him the telescope,” you said, unsure of why you did. “I hope that is okay.”

Price broke out into a smile, huffing out a breathy laugh. “So long as he did not beat me to it.”

You released a relieved breath, a shaky smile spreading on your lips. Price did not seem angry, and for that, you grew more enticed for a kiss. While your feelings for the others were all different in their special ways, having Price be the first was not something you could deny. It excited you more than it should.

Before you knew it, Price leaned down, capturing your lips in his own. There was no spark like you’d read in books you’d read at merchant stands when you couldn’t afford them, nor were there fireworks.

Instead, it was a calm sea that smothered you in peace, easing every worry that crowded your mind. They washed away, replaced with a warm buzz.

He was gentle, hand still grasping yours, the other coming to rest beneath your jaw. His skin was hot to the touch, rough from the callouses on his palm.

The moment wasn’t long, and when he pulled away, you wished you could reel him in for more.

“Rest,” he encouraged, his smile brighter than a thousand suns. “We’ll get you fixed up and better before you know it, alright?”

You nodded dumbly, your head empty. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the feel of his lips still tingling on yours.

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back, stepping away from the bed. He gave you a soft farewell, reminding you that the boys will be back soon and to try and sleep until then.

Once he was out of the room, the quiet didn’t bother you. It wasn’t maddening, driving you up a wall, suffocating you with loneliness—it was peaceful and kind, welcoming you with open arms as you slipped into unconsciousness, the images flashing behind your eyelids of the four of them in your life only bringing you true comfort after the storm.

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evilgwrl · 13 days ago

Text

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Twelve

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Genuinely this is pure filth, THREESOME!!!!! (MxFxM), food play (with an apple [nothing internal]), oral sex (f&m receiving), choking, praise, hints to a gang bang, reverse cowgirl, spanking, hickies, titty sucking, overstimulation, possessive behaviour from Mr Simon, slight asphyxiation

Taglist: @waves-against-a-cliff @echo9821 @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

Masterlist

P.S Barry Sloane (aka Captain Price) I love you

P.S.S I also wrote this listening to Closer by NIN

The taste of his skin was salted, a magnitude of sweat and work lacing every indent of his flesh as he worked his thumb into the heat of your mouth, pulsing tongue wrapping around the digit like you were famished. You didn’t need to look at the former Captain to feel his gaze, a flurry of overblown pupils tainting every vision of skin that fell in his view.

Simon’s grip was molten, staining your ribcage as it crumbled under his touch, perked nipples presented under scalding air. His eyes were sinister, consumed by blackened holes of greed as his lips found your neck, tugging the tender dermis between gritted teeth with a suck.

The apple was warm, juices seeping between Price’s canines as Simon laid you down, swollen arm wrapping around your left leg to hold it open, his mouth drooling across your chest in a ludicrous manner. Thick strings of spit fell across hardened buds, the Lieutenant’s tongue imposing on their sensitivity.

Your head tilted as Price smiled at you, holding the fruit to your mouth before you bit down, a spray of liquid cascading down your chin as it stuck to your neck, a small puddle of sweetness catching between your collarbones. His grip was tight, squishing the browning flesh over you as he drenched your breasts with the tasteful substance, a trail leading just above your pubic area.

Simon was quick, lapping at the residue on your chest, all the way to your neck, hooking your leg up as your mound fluttered, open for Price’s gaze as his mouth met your abdomen, trailing his tongue as he pressed against the nectar he poured across you. Gritted teeth nipped at your stomach as you gasped, bucking your hips reactively.

Ghost’s mouth was quick against yours, the taste of apple almost vulgar as he racked his tongue into your mouth, pushing against your own in an arrogant fight for dominance. Your cry into his mouth was taboo, almost pornographic, as you felt Price spread your cunt open, tangy slick drooling between exposed folds. Invasive digits pressed against your hooded clit, catching the way your body jolted, thighs attempting to shut as a whack sounded against the fat of your leg.

“Keep your legs open,” the oldest man hissed, his beard pricking against your nether region as he pressed his nose against it, inhaling. Simon smirked against your mouth, biting down on your tongue as you whined, the taste of metallic pooling into both of your tastebuds as his hand found your neck, coiling around it in a vast movement, his lips now against your earlobe as he suckled the flesh into his jaws.

“Pri-“

Your words were cut off by his tongue, the intrusive muscle diving in between your pussy with a grin as he growled into your heat, tongue lapping at your beckoning hole with torment. Your eyes squeezed shut instantly, moans strangled out by Simon’s grip against your throat as he kissed you again, tainting your delicate skin with pebbles of internal bruises.

Simon’s words were thick against your mouth, drawing you in with every syllable, “We’ll never let anyone else near you, you understand me? All ours.”

Your nod was vicious as you groaned into the kiss, a needy, ‘please’ leaving your constricted throat at the possessiveness in his tone. Your head was foggy, wracked with nothing but pleasure. You were distracted, body compliant to the men before you as you gravelled in the attention.

Price was desperate, slurping at your cunt with hunger as he gripped your right thigh, digging his nails into your skin with every lap. His beard was drenched, soaked in the taste of your slick as his forefinger hitched at your clit, dragging the bead in a circular motion, his tongue focused on fucking your wanton entrance.

You were shellshocked – almost unable to breathe from the stimulation, your body on fire from the animosity of pleasure. Simon’s attention fell back on your tits, groping one as he sucked on the other, almost uncontrollably, as he switched between the two.

Your orgasm was growing fast, yet painfully slow, holding your belly in a tight coil, freezing you up in fulfilment as your chest hicked, the air from your lungs sucked into your ears with a growing buzz before you choked out a scream, your clit throbbing intensely as Price continued his abuse, slurping as he bullied your pulsing bead.

“Good fucking girl,” the man growled against you, your body writhing as unshed tears met your eyes, back cascading into an arch as you whined, attempting to buck him off with your hips.

His movements felt relentless, overwhelming, yet it was even worse when he pulled away, a zephyr rushing to your exposed, swollen cunt. Simon’s hands quickly found your heat, working two fingers between drenched folds as you rutted.

“N-No Simon – it’s too much-“

Price’s laugh was brutal, watching your thighs stutter against the sheets, every movement sent to your chest. His cock was painfully hard, stretched across his pants as he watched your hand dip under the covers, tugging at Simon’s shaft in a twisting motion as the man hitched his movements for a brief second before tugging you on top of him.

Your mound was quick to meet his length, clit caught on a bulging vein as you moved against it, mouth wide open with pleasure. The Lieutenant’s hiss was noticeable as his hand found your ass, dragging you along his cock with familiarity. Price folded his arms, watching the two of you, before his fingers wrapped around his boxers with a harsh squeeze, his zipper spluttering, tugging his length out of confinement.

The scene seemed unlawful, a different genre of taboo as John’s hand found your hair, stroking your scalp gently, working your locks in between scarred fingers. You were fast to turn, your ass facing Simon as horny fingers delved into the flesh, eliciting a quiet groan from the man underneath you. Your hips were raised as he ran his cock through your slit, pearly beads of precum sticking to your slick in a lewd manner before he circled your hole with desperation, clutching onto you as you lowered, a hoarse moan leaving your lips.

He was everywhere, searing through your cunt with certainty as he worked himself into you, rigid cock tainting your pillowy walls as your mouth transfixed into an ‘o’ shape, the colour of your eyes turning a starchy white.

“So fucking gorgeous, ain’t you?” Price cooed, running a finger over your spit-swollen lips, rubbing at your teeth in a back-and-forth motion. Your smile was subtle, your hair falling over your eyes as you leaned forward, taking his cock into your hand, your body jutting forward as Simon fucked up, a pained whine elicited from you.

“Tha’s it, just like that,” Simon uttered, running a hand over the fat of your backside as you adjusted just above his stomach, the other’s man dick moments from your face. Neediness adorned your features as the Captain held your hair back in his hand, a fat glob of spit falling from your lips as it landed across his shaft, your fingers quickly working it into the skin.

Your mouth was hot, a layer of sweat coating your body as you took his length into your wet crevice, your tongue itching out to kitten lick the tip, the salty taste of his anticipation coating your taste buds.

It was almost like an initiation, John’s eyes met Simon’s with a curt nod, the man below you beginning to fuck up into your wet heat, a grunt leaving his lips at how tight you wrapped around him. Your mouth was wide, inviting the oldest man in with ease as he guided you across his length with your hair, a gag sounding across the room as he pushed further down your tongue.

With your cheeks hollowed, you stared up at Price, eyes wide with pleasure, glossy with tears. His face was contorted with pleasure, beard still wet from his previous activities as he used your mouth, working himself off with your tongue.

Simon’s thrusts were forceful, sending the other’s cock further down your lips, the fuzz of his pubes brushing against the tip of your nose as you gagged and spluttered, spit drooling from the sides. You were a blubbering mess, choking against Price’s length in a pornographic picture as he rutted down your throat, kissing your tonsils with a bruise.

Your hand found his hip, gripping the tender flesh as you swallowed around him, crying out as Simon brushed against your sweet spot, your cunt clenching.

“So fucking tight – fuckin’ perfect,” the Lieutenant spat, his hands smacking down on your ass with every deep thrust. Price watched your eyes roll back, your tongue flat as he ran his cock against it, chasing his orgasm both from fucking your face and the pure sight of you.

“Gonna cum down this pretty throat, hm?”

You nodded, head bobbing as you gagged, meeting every shallow thrust the Captain pushed into your mouth. Your body was on fire, fuelled by being used by the two men inside you.

Your cervix was kissed, split open by the throbbing cock inside you, milking his length with selfish intent, desperate to feel him. All the air was knocked from your lungs, your body only focusing on the intense pleasure you were both giving and receiving.

John’s thrusts grew sloppier, your cheeks hollowing further as he jolted, pressing you against his pudgy abdomen with a grunt before hot spurts of cum choked down your throat, streams of tears leaking from your wide eyes. You were quick to swallow, your mouth burning with a lack of oxygen as the man pulled away, panting.

Your chest heaved, catching your breath before you let out a strained whine, Simon’s hips meeting yours as he pushed you further down onto him, hitting the deepest spot possible with every quick thrust. Your breasts shook, John’s hand quick to grope at them as he pulled you into a kiss.

“Did – so fucking – good for me, for both of us,” he growled, stroking your cheek as you smiled against his lips. He could no doubt taste himself and that somehow made it hotter, your cunt clenching further around Simon.

“Dirty girl enjoys being used by the both of us, imagine her with all four,” Simon laughed, his balls slapping against your cunt with every pound.

Your words were mousy as you whispered out, “Yes, please.” The Lieutenant only growled as he pushed you forward, your chest knocking against Price with a harsh sensation.

“That’s it, baby,” John murmured, pulling away to stare at you, cerulean eyes bloodshot with contentment.

Simon practically choked on the air as he pulled out, his cock throbbing as he spluttered cum against your ass, strings of ivory staining your skin in an obscene manner, your body collapsing against the Captain.

“Jesus Christ,” you whined, still unable to fill your lungs with oxygen as you croaked out a giggle.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked, moving your hair to the side before he laced a kiss against your neck, a litter of purple marks staining your skin.

“Perfect.”

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ellecdc · 7 months ago

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All's Fair in Love & Chaos

1st instalment ( II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

The day that every witch, wizard, and wix alike waited their whole life for finally came for Sirius Black; the day that their soulmate’s initials became visible on your wrist.

The mark becomes visible when the last person of your soulmate bond comes of age. For example, much to Lily’s chagrin, the initials J.F.P became visible on her wrist on March 27th, as did the initials L.J.E on James’ wrist.

Much to Sirius’ chagrin, on June 25th, the initials R.A.B became visible on Remus’ wrist, as did the initials R.J.L on Regulus’.

And so it went for the rest of his friends and classmates.

Except for poor Pete, whose wrist adorned the initials of someone who - after much research and triple-checking by all of their friends - clearly didn’t go to Hogwarts.

Sometimes, however, soulmate bonds took place between more than two people, and though it was possible for it to happen among all blood statuses, the odds were higher amongst Pureblood’s.

So when Sirius woke up this morning to a weird burning/itching feeling on his wrist, only to see not one, but two sets of initials, he was feeling pretty chuffed.

That dissolved very quickly, however.

“No…. nononononononono.” He muttered in agony as he saw two people approaching him; one looking almost as horrified as he did and one looking awfully sinister.

“Well, well, well.” Barty Crouch Junior drawled as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, dragging you over with him - seemingly without your consent – by your arm. “I thought it must have been a mistake when I woke up to find out I had a Son Of a Bitch as a soulmate, but alas; here you are.”

“This can’t be.” Sirius whispered disbelievingly, causing Barty to cackle maniacally.

“Oh, but it is.”

Any words that Sirius had died on his lips at the wheezing of his younger brother.

You, Barty, and Sirius all turned to see Regulus hanging from Remus’ shoulder as he clutched his stomach.

“I…I – oh Salazar, I think I finally believe in gods! All of them! Oh…” He stuttered in between fits of laughter.

Sirius looked between him and his supposed best mate, but Remus only looked at Regulus as if Regulus was his most beautiful when he was laughing at the expense of his brother.

Bastards; the both of them.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” James offered, his face clearly trying to smile though it took on a pained expression in comissery.

“Thank you…” You accepted timidly, eyes darting between the group of people you suddenly found yourself emmersed in.

“Now look what you’ve done, Black.” Barty sneered as if Sirius’ last name was a dirty word. “You’ve worried our poor girl.” He cooed as he pulled you tight into your side, causing you to squeak in surprise.

“I hardly think I’m the one worrying her.” Sirius sneered back.

Barty’s face turned stony. “Just what are you insinuating?”

“Uhm, that you’re certifiably insane?” Sirius responded simply.

“Oh, come now; Junior’s not that bad.” Remus tried to reason; his boyfriend still hanging limply off his shoulder as he tried (and failed) to repress his laughter.

“Not that bad?” Sirius screeched incredulously. “Did you not see what he did to Crawley?”

Peter snorted at that. “Mate, you literally did the same thing to Snape.”

“That was you?” Barty asked in surprise, looking Sirius up and down skeptically.

“Sure was.” James answered on his behalf.

“Huh.” Barty chuckled in thought. “That’s where I- never mind that. I only did that because he groped Y/N’s arse.”

Sirius felt his own face turn stony as he turned his attention to you. “Is this true?”

You seemed to pale at the attention. “Well…yes? But-”

“Ha ha. Black’s just as bad as me.” Barty sing-songed from beside you, looking at Sirius with a look of faux innocence.

Sirius heard a thump, and he looked over to see Remus looking behind the bench where Regulus had apparently fallen in his fit of laughter.

“I – I’ve died, yeah? I’m dead? Fuck, I must’ve done something right in my past life to be rewarded with this. Sirius is – is bonded to Barty Crouch Junior.” He howled with laughter, so uncharacteristic of the young, stoic Black.

“I am not!” Sirius argued petulantly. “I’m bonded to Y/N, Junior just…happens to be there.”

“If you’re only bonded to Y/N, why are my initials decorating your wrist, hm?” Barty asked salaciously, pulling Sirius’ wrist towards him to see the evidence for himself.

“Oh, sod off.” Sirius barked, shoving him aside and offering you an apologetic glance before storming towards the exit.

“Oi! Where are you going, future-Mr-Barty-Crouch-Junior!?” Barty taunted.

“To jump off the astronomy tower!” Sirius called back.

“Ou! We should go watch.” He said, turning to you before following Sirius out. “You should try to do a flip!”

“Oh, Y/N.” Lily cooed after the boys finally disappeared out of the Great Hall. “I’m so sorry.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh as your eyes stayed focused on the place where you last saw your two new soulmates. “If Regulus did something in a past life to be rewarded with this, I must have done something right horrid.”

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lovscb97 · 6 days ago

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tags: lee felix x fem!reader x yang jeongin, threesome, established poly relationship, d/s dynamics, hard dom!innie, soft dom!lix, sub!fem!reader, some mxm action, dirty talk, degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc), use of petnames (princess, baby, kitten, etc), kissing, spanking, exhibitionism? (they do it in someone’s bedroom at a party lmfao), oral sex (f. receiving), jealousy/possessive behaviour, punishments, etc

wc: 1.59k

add. notes: for my other luvr @aerissick :3

. . .

you’re royally fucked.

if someone had told you five minutes ago that you were going to wind ass up face down in a random frat house bedroom with the door unlocked and your two boyfriends towering over your mostly naked figure, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them they were being silly (although it’s not like the predicament isn’t a normal occurrence for you considering you guys do get experimental a lot). considering your current circumstances though, you reckon you should retract your previous statement, because lo and behold, here you are, legs spread slightly and on your hands and knees all for the greedy sets of eyes which belong to your lovers.

“fucking slut, look at her. she’s dripping.” jeongin clicks his tongue with a sneer, ring clad fingers tracing the curve of your ass as he examines the mess you’ve made of your panties; you shiver when the feel of the cold metal touches your warm skin. “did you enjoy dancing with hyunjin, hm? making a show of yourself in this skimpy little skirt that we told you to not wear?” you shake your head rapidly against the sheets, mouth opening to whine out apologies when a sharp slap lands itself on your inner thigh, causing you to yelp. the sting of it burns, pain spreading through your leg at the impact. “i didn’t say you could speak, whore.” your younger boyfriend growls out. you bite your tongue at his words.

“princess, you know the rules. no acting out in public.” felix’s soft voice enters your ears, and you whimper, craving his body next to yours. “now what do we say?”

“’m sorry lixie, please.” you plead, voice muffled by the covers of the comforter underneath you. “so sorry, innie. please, please.” jeongin’s dark chuckle rings through the air, and you feel his digits graze against the wet patch of your underwear to collect the arousal that’s gathered on the fabric. “don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you, sweetheart? always too cockdrunk to speak when we’ve barely touched you.” he huffs, popping his fingers into his mouth to taste the essence lingering on them. “what do you think, love? should we say.. fifteen as a start?” he asks felix shortly afterwards, your eyes widening at his words.

“n-no, no! ‘m sorry, it won’t happen again. please, n—“

“shut the fuck up, bitch.” jeongin snarls, pushing your head down deeper into the mattress as you gasp. “you don’t get to complain when you were out on the dance floor throwing yourself at other people.” you sniffle, face turning to the other side to catch a glimpse of your older boyfriend who’s standing next to you. you bat your teary eyes at him in hopes he’ll take pity on you and end this charade, but it doesn’t last long when jeongin yanks you back by the hair to sit up and face him, dark eyes raking over your smudged makeup as he grabs you by the chin with his other hand. “don’t try funny games with lixie, baby. he’s pretty pissed too.” he has a sinister smirk on his face as he speaks, giving you a knowing look when your pout deepens.

“we don’t like doing this to you either, princess.” you hear felix sigh, turning around to see his hands dropping out of his jacket pockets as he takes a step closer to you. you flicker your eyes to his face when he moves towards you, keening into his touch as his fingers stroke your cheek, causing jeongin to scoff. “don’t get soft on her now.” he grumbles, and felix smiles, shaking his head. “we’ll give her ten.” jeongin rolls his eyes at that, mumbling something about how you two always do this before stepping away from you, leaving you to croon against felix’s soft hands.

your happiness is short-lived though, because the minute you let your guard down, you feel a sharp smack against your ass, drawing another yelp of pain from your lips. “count, slut.” jeongin demands, slender fingers making sure to rub against the skin where he’d spanked you. your gaze flicks to felix’s, who nods at you with a soft expression on his face.

“one.” you whisper, gasping when jeongin tugs you again by the hair.

“one, and what? speak louder.” he raises an eyebrow, biting his lip at the way your eyes well up with tears. “one. i’m sorry.” you respond, and jeongin seems satisfied by that because he lets you go once you’ve said it. felix’s thumb comes out to graze against your cheek, his pretty face taking in the way you’re settled on the bed, whoever it belongs to, and how sweet you look apologising for your actions. he seems to take pity on you too, because he’s swooping down suddenly to capture your lips in a deep kiss, causing you to moan against his mouth as you reciprocate his actions. another sharp smack rings through the air, leaving you wailing into your lover. “two. i’m sorry.” you sniff after pulling away, feeling your younger boyfriend massage the other cheek he’d just hit you on.

your punishment seems to last hours, even though in actuality it barely spans over three minutes. by the time jeongin is done with you, your face is stained with runny mascara and your ass a bright shade of pink, twinging in slight pain every other second. next to your side, felix whispers sweet nothings in your ear, praises falling from his cherry lips like a waterfall and causing the swirl of delight in your stomach to grow, leaving you having forgotten your punishment easily. “did so good for us, princess. you deserve a reward now, yeah?” you nod eagerly at his words, and he chuckles.

“if you ask me, i still think she hasn’t learned her lesson.” jeongin tsk’s, causing you to furrow your eyebrows as you pout. felix coos at his words, stepping forward to pull him close by the waist despite the fact that jeongin resists. he melts into his touch quickly though when your older lover kisses him, and you feel your clit throb at the way they embrace each other, lips moulding perfectly against one another. “feeling left out, aren’t ya, baby?” felix teases in a heavy breath once they’ve pulled away, jeongin’s face flushing slightly at his words as he mumbles excuses. “c’mere, come relieve your tension with our pretty girl.” felix guides him close to your neglected frame, and you automatically get up to position yourself on your hands and knees once more, flashing your now drenched panties to their inviting eyes.

“fucking hell.” jeongin groans at the sight, licking his lips at the large wet patch on the fabric. both their hands come out to touch you, and you sigh in content at the feeling of your two boyfriends having their way with you, pushing you into whatever position they please so they can bury their nose into your cunt and litter your thighs with kisses. “please do something.” you sob when jeongin presses his thumb into your clothed nub, rubbing over it slightly while felix’s mouth trails dangerously close to where you need it.

“oh, we will, baby, don’t even worry.” jeongin chuckles darkly, and before you can even react to what he’s said, he’s grabbing your underwear from both sides to rip it apart into shreds. you gasp at his actions, opening your mouth to whine about how that was your favourite pair, but the words die down in your mouth when you feel felix’s tongue breaching your folds. a loud moan leaves your lips at the sensation of his wet muscle finally, finally having touched you where you’ve needed it all night long, knees almost buckling as you struggle to hold yourself up in the midst of the pleasure you’re receiving.

“enjoy your treat, kitten.” jeongin purrs, threading his hand through felix’s long, blonde locks before pushing him deeper into your pussy. you mewl at the feeling of him continuing to lick into you deeper, clit pulsating with need when he wraps his sweet lips around it and sucks. “feels good, princess?” you vaguely register jeongin asking through your pleasure drunk haze, incoherently nodding and mumbling something in agreement which makes him laugh.

“see, we’re the only ones who can make you feel this good.” he snickers, feeling himself straining in his pants at the way you whine from felix’s tongue laving through you. “ain’t that right, cutie?” you mumble out a shaky ‘yes’, unsure of what you’re even responding to as your mind starts to become clouded and fuzzy. it doesn’t take long either until you’re shaking through an orgasm, panting and gripping the fabric underneath you as you spray onto felix’s welcoming tongue. he continues to lick at you until you whine in overstimulation, weakly pushing his head away until jeongin stops you.

“oh no, keep going, kitten. we’ve really gotta prove our point to her, hm? gotta prove it’s only us who deserve this body.” jeongin flashes a wicked smile, gripping you by the hips to pull you back against the older’s waiting mouth. you flinch from the sensitivity when you feel felix moan into you, to which jeongin just smirks once more, leaning in close to your ear.

“don’t worry, pretty girl. we’re gonna make you cum so much, you’ll never want to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.” he mumbles lazily, and you shiver at his words.

it seems that you’re in for a long night tonight.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#✰ sunny's oneshots!#i.n. smut #jeongin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #jeongin x felix

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rooksamoris · 5 months ago

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💞 — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄.

💞 — in which vil invites a vampire hunter to live in your castle as a guard. this hunter seems to enjoy pressing your buttons quite a bit.

💞 — vampire!vil schoenheit x vampire!reader x vampire hunter!rook hunt (implied poly)

💞 — warnings: SUGGESTIVE!! nothing crazy, but it is suggestive, hopefully in the gothic romantic sort of way. obvi, blood, mentions of gore. rook says "bon appetit" at some point. vil and reader are "married" but in the eternal partners thanks to immortality sort of way

💞 — 2.2k words. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY @v-anrouge!!! when i was wondering what i should write, i remembered you were the one who gave me the thought of vampire hunter!rook which has completely haunted me since. i wish you a million more happy days <33 think imma do a whole au tagged as "𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄." bc wow i miss vampire stories

Vil could not have been serious about this.

You looked at him in disbelief as he sat at the luxurious table. He ignored your look of disbelief and continued to sip from his wine glass, the rid liquid sloshing to and fro. Any idiot would assume it was just wine or fruit cordial, but no, this was a bit too thick to be either. Your eyes then darted to the smiling blonde bowing at the both of you. That bastard hunter that you and your kind were constantly trying to get away from. He was grinning without a care as if he was not in the presence of one of the most feared vampires in all of the Twisted Wonderland.

“You don’t look too pleased to see me, mon vampire,” he said, tilting his head to the side, smile ever present.

It took everything in you not to scrunch your nose, “What vampire would be pleased at the sight of a hunter?” you retorted, before looking back at Vil. You assumed he was bluffing when he told you he would employ a vampire hunter to keep watch over the castle. You knew why he did it—all that power came with enemies and artifacts that all manner of magical creatures wanted to steal for themselves. But come on, you hoped he would settle for a protective spell.

Vil finally sighed, “He won’t harm you, or me if he knows what’s best for him.”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, no need for worries. I could never dream of tarnishing such beauty,” he replied, standing straight again. Despite that smile of his, there was something sinister beneath it all. He was hiding something, that much was clear.

“Vil, darling, you can’t be serious—”

All the vampire did was stand and make his way over to you, standing behind your seat and placing one of his hands onto your shoulders, and then he used the other to cup your chin so that you were glancing over at him, “Stress ages the skin. Relax your brows,” he told you. Your immortality would keep you from aging just fine, yet he still insisted that you follow these human regiments with him.

After a moment, you sighed, letting your shoulders drop before sending a half-hearted glare at the hunter, “Fine,”

“Good,” Vil moved away from you and to the blonde hunter, his hand quickly grasping his jaw, “And you,”

“Yes?” Rook asked, practically beaming over the fact that the poisonous vampire himself was touching him. He could barely keep himself from reaching out and embracing the vampire.

Before this, he had just been admiring you and your spouse. All of this was like something from one of his dreams. Here he was, in that gothic castle which he had only seen in paintings, with the famed vampires hiding in it. Rook could not wait till he was free to explore the place and uncover the magical secrets that were hidden there. Perhaps he would even get the chance to collect skeletons from the closets.

Your glares were exhilarating and Vil’s touch was just… arousing. This was the type of opportunity he would kill for. He probably did kill for it, no one could know when it came to him.

Vil’s lavender eyes traced over the hunter’s face, before narrowing in on his eyes, “You will be on your best behavior, yes?”

Rook nodded, placing a hand on his chest, “Of course, my queen.”

“Darling, quit your pouting already,” Vil said, glancing at you through the mirror as you tended to his hair. He never let anyone tend to his beauty process, but you. Who would not trust their eternal lover? He began to rub a serum into his skin, “I know you’re not happy, but you’re a vampire, not a toddler.”

You nearly tugged his hair at that, “You know how I feel about vampire hunters,” you told him, “And him? Of all the hunters to bring into our home, you have to bring the one with the most kills under his belt—if he tries anything, I’ll… I—”

“We’ll both feed off of him. Don’t worry,” he said, cutting you off as he turned around to face you. One of his hands reached for the brush and he set it at the vanity behind him while gazing up at you. His hands cupped your hips and forced you closer, “You worry too much. If he messes up, he’ll make for a great meal.”

His hands trailed up and down—hips, to thighs, hips, to waist—he had done this thousands of times before, “You’ve heard of his skill, his strength. A man with such endurance must have plenty of blood… all that running and fighting he does has to show in the health of his arteries. I’ll even let you use those fancy chalices you like,”

Oh, Sevens. He was so attractive when he went into his informative tangents.

A blush covered your cheeks and your hands reached to grab onto his shoulders so that you could balance yourself. Centuries later he still managed to make you blush like a rose. He claimed you were his spouse, but sometimes you felt more like a devout worshipper. His body was the shrine you bowed to, your love was the offerings you held out to him.

“I just ask that you play nice,” he said, his hand drifting from your hip, up to your cheek. A smirk came to his lips as he tugged your face towards him. He smirked when your eyes trailed over to his mouth, “You can do that, right?”

All you could do was nod in response.

“Good,” And finally, he gave in and kissed you, teasingly dragging his fangs along your bottom lip. Vil knew how much you loved when he did that, he could feel it in the little shift you did as he held you close. He pulled away after a moment, just to let his hands dip down to the back of your legs and pull you into his lap, “Now, let me take care of you.”

Living in the castle with Rook was strange, but not completely horrible. He had so much to satisfy his curiosity, so most days you did not see him unless you were in places that he was monitoring. You caught him a few times in the secret tunnels beneath the castle, and the various hiding places that no one knew about.

He tried to get into your good graces with his… strange shows of affection. Last night, when he was walking you home from the opera, he told you how much he wished you would let your rage control so that you would sink your teeth into his pale freckled skin.

Strange, and yet your mind drifted back to the thought of it. Letting go of your control and pouncing onto the hunter, tearing the collar of his shirt, piercing that pretty skin of his. You forced the thoughts out of your mind when you began to imagine what his gasps and whimpers may have sounded like.

Vil seemed to be much more quick to let up when it came to Rook. He did not think the green-eyed hunter was a threat and just let him share his amorous and romantic poetry. At the dinner table, he would laud you and your Queen, comparing himself to the knights of yore, bound to protect and never to touch—and Vil did not interrupt him once. He looked pleased, instead, amused even.

Even more absurd was when Vil began letting Rook help him out with his clothes or his makeup. That had truly caught you off-guard, but you still did not seem to let up on your suspicions. He was just so unsettling sometimes, despite his sweet moments. You worried he would turn around and set a trap for you, or worse, for Vil.

Vil could take care of himself, but you loved him too much to not worry.

“Ah, mon vampire!”

You turned around when the hunter suddenly called out for you. Of course, he just happened to be in the gardens at the same time as you, “Rook,” you muttered, “Do you never sleep?”

He quickly took his spot at your side, his hand drifting to hover around the small of your back, “Now why would I tell a predator like you when I am most vulnerable?” he asked, this thumb sliding over your spine a bit. His green eyes looked a little more threatening for a moment, “That would make me a poor hunter, non?”

That look in his eyes made you shiver.

“I suppose you are right about that.”

You were sure you could take him on in a fight, but you also wished Vil was out here too. Rook always seemed a little more behaved in the presence of Vil, since he was more of a threat than you were—or perhaps Rook just enjoyed toying with you more. When the two of you were alone, Rook seemed more like the bloodthirsty creature, except he thirsted for your ire. He was just begging to be your meal with the way he acted.

His touch grew firm, “Looking for an escape?” he asked, raising a brow, smiling at you. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“No,” you retorted, a little blush coloring your cheeks, “That’s what you should be doing.”

Rook laughed at that and his hand moved off your back and to your hand instead. Gently, he tugged you with him deeper into the gardens, “I would never want to escape from you. No matter how vicious you became,” he told you, affectionately.

You scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a minute,”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. You’d run with your tail between your legs just as the other mortals do.”

He tugged you a bit harder once he came to a stop, forcing you to fall against him. The blonde nearly shivered as your hands met his chest to steady yourself, “Mon vampire,” he whispered, “You and I both know I would never run from those gorgeous fangs of yours,” he said as his free hand cupped your jaw.

The foolish hunter was guiding your face toward his pale neck. A soft growl came from the back of your throat, “Stupid hunter,” you muttered. That familiar bloodlust began to seep from your every pore.

“Go on,” he cooed, “bon appétit.”

You decided to give in—his blood just smelled too good. You brushed his blonde hair behind his ear before slipping a hand behind his neck to force him closer to you, causing him to place his hands on either side of your head, against one of the pillars in the gardens.

Fangs glittered beneath the night sky like swords on the battlefield, his neck was your enemy. All you wanted to do was suck him dry, and end that dull beating you could hear where his blood was rushing. Vil had told you athletic people carried more blood. He shivered as your tongue swiped against his neck.

“Ah—wetting my neck to make it easier? You are just so—”

Before he could finish with his teasing, you quickly and violently sunk your fangs into his neck, humming in satisfaction as his blood hit your tongue. His body tensed up for a moment and then he relaxed, leaning his body against you, pinning you to the pillar. He gasped a bit at your harsh sucking, but never once did his protest.

Instead, his fingers tenderly carded through your hair, “Mmm… Tu es merveilleux.”

You could not even bring yourself to pull away and reply to his compliments, instead opting to dig your fangs in even deeper. The blood began to drip down your chin, Vil would scold you for that, but you did not care. His blood was delicious.

“What have I told you about getting blood on your clothes when you’re feeding?”

Speak of the devil—erm, vampire.

Quickly, you pulled away from Rook’s neck and you were just about to wipe your face on your sleeve, until you felt Vil’s sharp glare and Rook’s hand grasp your arm in time.

The hunter gave you a teasing smile, before turning his attention to Vil.

There was a frown on Vil’s face, “I can’t believe you managed to make such a mess in the five minutes that I have left you alone.”

“Merci, I do my best.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Look what you have done to mein schätzelein,” he scolded, as he took out a handkerchief to wipe up your mouth for you. His attention was now on gently wiping away the blood that dripped down to your chin and onto your chest. He patted it down, careful not to rub too hard. A brief look of hunger flashed in his eyes as he wiped the blood. He nearly bent down to lick it off of you instead. “Such a mess... and I thought we promised we’d feed on him together? Greed is not a pretty look for you.”

The flush on your cheeks brightened, much to both of their amusement.

“Don’t scold them, Roi du Poison. It was my fault. I was teasing too much,” Rook interrupted before you could speak. One of his hands trailed down your back, while the other slipped around Vil’s waist, “But since you’re here now, you can have a taste as well.”

Vil rolled his eyes, “I am much better at controlling myself,”

That was a lie. His eyes kept drifting between the pierce marks on Rook’s neck and the little bit of blood stuck on the corner of your lips.

©rooksamoris 2024. do not steal or translate my work!

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#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #rook hunt #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vampire au #vampire!reader #vampire!vil #vampire hunter!rook hunt #𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄.

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months ago

Text

before the corn grows.

Batboys x depressive!reader

a/n: oh my gosh this was so therapeutic—also, I was unsure whether to include people on the az taglist in this fic since it’s technically a poly fic? Sorry if you didn’t want to be included in this, I wasn’t sure about it :/

As always, thank you for the request, anon <3!

warnings: mentions of self-inflicted violence, fluff, I think this is technically hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,766

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Judgemental prick.”

“I don’t think I said anything.”

“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cassian scowls, stirring in the fifth spoonful of sugar. “For the Spymaster, you were practically yelling it across the table. It’s the small things in life—I’ll enjoy some damn sugar in my tea if I want to.”

Azriel shifts in his seat, powerful arms folded over a broad chest, thighs spread as he relaxes into the seat. “There was nothing small about the amount you just put in,” he replies, smirking. “Just looking out for your health.”

“You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” the General mutters, brows tightening at the cocky smirk on his brother’s mouth. Matching hazel eyes glint with sinister mirth that Cassian decides to ignore for today, raising the mug to his lips and drinking deeply.

He jerks violently, spraying the bitter liquid across the table, making Az recoil. “It’s salty?” He glares at his brother, who’s now grimacing at the smattering of tea that’s been spat in his direction. “I told you I was looking out for your health,” he mutters, reaching for the kitchen roll.

The General grabs it first, snatching the roll away, dabbing at his mouth and tongue before Azriel is leaning across the table, grappling at Cassian’s arm to try and pry it from his thick fingers. “Let go you prick, I’m the one who has that concoction on my tongue,” the General snaps gruffly. “And I’ve got your saliva all over my leathers. Hand it over.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I ruin your pretty clothes? Is your vanity hurt?”

“Piss off, bastard,” Azriel snaps. “You should have paid more attention to what you were spooning into your drink.”

The door swings open and the third brother walks in, violet eyes visibly worried, fingers preoccupied with straightening the pristine cuff of his sleeves. Freshly polished shoes pause in their place, surveying the chaos that’s unfolded upon the kitchen table. The two pull apart, sobered by Rhys’s strained look, at once on guard.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asks, noting the fine but not flashy dress of the High Lord—clean but casual. “Have you seen her recently?” Rhys asks, and they both stiffen, shaking their heads. Hazel eyes glance at one another across the table, before returning to anxious violet, in time to catch him running a hand through his hair.

“She’d been focusing on getting orders done in time for solstice presents,” Azriel offers solemnly, “it’s when the most work comes in, so she’ll be resting now.”

“I’m going to check on her,” Rhysand announces, and neither of the Illyrians object. Not a word needs to be spoken to know the High Lord will relay whatever news there is to the two of them the second he learns it.

Then in a whisper of darkness, he vanishes.

————

The door had been locked, but it hadn’t been an issue.

The issue was the stagnant air in her house. The issue was the moulding bread in the kitchen. The issue was the dirty clothes scattered across her bedroom floor.

The issue was, she looked like she hadn’t gotten out of bed for a week straight, hair knotted and oily, skin lacking the warmth of life, eyes numb and unfocused.

He braces himself to deal with her, then lands three quiet knocks to her open bedroom door—letting her know he’s here. Blankets curl tighter, being pulled over her head, wrapping into a tight ball that shudders and sobs almost silently. He can hear the gasping inhales, the wet snivels as she tries to hide away.

He knew something had been amiss.

“Lovely,” he calls softly, the name like heated cotton against clean skin. “How long have you been sleeping for?”

————

You curl tighter, feeling the bed dip, the shape of a large, warm palm settling over your shoulder.

“Go away,” you manage numbly, throat raw, sinuses hurting. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.” Limbs wrap tighter, trying to pull yourself together for him. Simultaneously wanting to scream at him to get out, to hit and lash at him, wanting to melt into his arms. Yet the raging instincts rise, and rise, and repeatedly fall short, losing their momentum and disintegrating into silence. Your clothes are stiff and sticky, glued to your body with sweat and salt, and you hate you hate you hate everything so much that it has to be pushed away. Folded up neatly into a box and just pushed away.

Fingers latch over the duvet, prying it from your grip with startling ease, hands too weak to do much against him, stomach aching with nausea. Light cracks into your vision, and you attempt to hide from him, conceal the gleaming spit and snot across your upper lip and chin, hide the puffiness of your eyes and the knotted mess of your hair—damp from tears that had been shed what feels like hours ago.

“What’s wrong…?” He asks softly, knuckles brushing the rat-tailed hair from your forehead, pushing it away so it’s no longer being coated in saliva and mucus and tears. “Talk to me, please,” he whispers, making to pull you up.

Sobs wrack your chest, slamming into you with violent force, wet breaths gasping from cracked lips as you heave with despair, uncontrollable spasms seizing your lungs as a fresh wave wrecks through you. He can feel you shaking your head, wet palms trying to dry freshly tearful eyes, hot water dripping heavily onto his shirt as you try to stop.

“Please…” you croak out, stumbling over the word, interrupted by stuttering breaths. “Leave me…go…”

“I’m not leaving you like this,” he whispers tenderly, pushing wet hair behind a pointed ear. But you shake your head again, crying harder, and his heart fumbles in his chest, aching sharply.

“I don’t…go away,” you moan shakily, head lowered against his shoulder. “I don’t want you here.” Lips are weighed in viscous saliva, turning them soft and slimy, making it hard to speak. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, arm wrapping over your back, power sliding for the window to flick the latch open—get some fresh air circling the space.

“I don’t…I don’t want you here!” You cry sharply, trying to wriggle out of his hold, struggling to return to your grave-like bed. To dive into the thick and smelly sheets that’ll get tangled with your limbs. “Lovely,” he says quietly, “hold still.”

Your body shudders to a gradual stop, shins and upper arms burning with the movement, left raw and unhealed from the lack of energy. Breathing stutters as you try to back away from hyperventilating, trying to calm your lungs, but the airways continue to spasm.

His broad palm pushes the stray locks of hair away, still saturated with salty tears that clump at the ends, scraggly and messy and smelly and damp and cold and…you try to pull away from him, feeling disgusting for getting him dirty. He’s so clean and tidy, and smelling so nice, like freshly washed sheets and crisp morning air. He shouldn’t be in your room.

You can hear the stuttering pulse of his heart, the only give to his emotions and one you’re only able to discern because he doesn’t think to hide it from you. He strokes your hair soothingly, goading you to calm, to resign yourself into his care so he can look after you.

“I’m tired,” you manage, chest shuddering with stammering breaths.

“Then rest,” he whispers, “but let us be with you.”

“No…” You shake your head, brows scrunching as your lungs begin to flutter and he holds you just that little bit tighter. It’s bad enough that he’s seeing you like this, it can’t be the others too. “Rhys…”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, first,” he murmurs, pulling away and cupping your jaw, violet meeting your gaze, “okay?” Your lower lip wobbles, fresh tears spilling as you grip just that little bit tighter, at last falling into him, if only because you lack the energy to stave off anything else. Far too tired to protest.

————

It had been so much worse than he had been anticipating, and a small part of him recoiled with sorrow when wrapping her shins in bandages, carefully applying a numbing balm to her upper arms to ease with movement.

He hadn’t realised…he hadn’t seen the signs… Even looking back on the weeks leading up to Starfall, he can’t find anything out of order. She’d been as peaceful as usual, as calm and reserved as normal, preparing for the influx of projects, almost anticipating them, desiring things to preoccupy her mind with, perhaps.

He feels wretched and useless, only able to scramble after the remnants of the storm. Desperately trying to find pieces of what he’d known in the wreckage of a war. Her eyes stay vacant, though not as foggy as when he’d first found her.

A bath had been too painful, so he’d used his hands to clean off the grime, only a flannel, soap, and a warm bucket of water at his disposal. He can only hope that once she’s fed, her body will begin its reconstruction, stitching together the thin slices, healing over scars so she doesn’t have to be reminded of it. Though he wonders if that’s an appealing aspect rather than a detestable one.

He’s proud of his own scars, memories stored away within his skin, stories contained within the tissue of battles long past. A map of his history placed into the grain of his body. He wonders if it’s at all comparable—how she starves herself so the cuts might set, so she will be able to look back at what she’s gotten through. A token of some kind for surviving. To know that while it’s all inside her own head, none of its meaning is detracted.

Pain is still pain, no matter where it comes from.

————

You’d tried so desperately to pull yourself together. To keep those haunting beats of emotion kept wrapped up in ribbons and bows, so it would be less inclined to leap out if stored comfortably.

Had tried to sit on the box to keep it from bursting open, so you wouldn’t have to bear that vulnerability. You’d rather stick yourself with knives that try to articulate what can only exist in the blood of your veins and the screaming caves of your mind. The echoes that repeat until painful instructions are being mumbled upon your numb lips, hardly unaware of the order to cut, cut, cut.

Had managed for the most part to section them off, until he’d finished tucking you into a spare bed, and his lips had brushed your cheek.

Then some tears had again dripped out, but he’d thumbed those away tenderly, never becoming fed up on the nonstop trickle.

You could hardly manage to look at him, not ready to face that reality yet. Then he’d told you he would be finding you a meal, and that you should eat as much as you felt capable of, but that you should try. And then he had pressed another light kiss to your cheek, swifter than the last, not giving you time to comprehend it, helping keep the tears to a minimum.

A large part of you is relieved, a great weight raised and wiped from your shoulders now your skin is clean again, now your hair is no longer sticking to your scalp but smelling fresh and healthy. Relieved you can again feel your circulation up and running, having gotten too used to the freezing tips of your fingers and toes, the cold numbness that had overtaken your shins and arms as your body tried to spool in the blood to your torso.

A knock sounds at the door, and you lift your head to spot hazel eyes watching you, concerned, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. He sees the reaction, and sighs, opening the door a little wider so he can walk inside.

“Does Rhys know you’re here, Cassian?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips as you incline your head to look up at him, stood beside your bed. Before he can answer though, you here a derisive snort coming softly from the hallway, and a tender warmth unfurls in your chest, throat aching a little with emotion. “Az, you too?”

A figure wreathed in shadow steps guiltily into the empty doorframe, one hand resting on the wooden beam as if he might leave.

You swallow thickly, shifting comfortably beneath the crisp sheets, liking how they rustle with the movement, scraping against bare and clean skin, even if it hurts a little. “Did… Has Rhys told you…?”

Cassian watches you silently, an anguished look on his features, but Azriel pauses, then nods his head solemnly.

Your lips press together into a thin line, unsure what to say if they already know. There’s no use in lying then, or trying to get out of it. Not without causing more concern. So you allow your shoulders to slump, resting back into the pillows. “I don’t really know how it happened,” you admit quietly, peering into your lap. “I just…I guess it had been building up for a while.” Your eyes shut briefly, hands rising to cover your face, rubbling lightly at your brows before falling away again, “I didn’t even know I was in it until I was out of it.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything,” Cassian says thickly, hand hesitantly settling over your shoulder, thumb stroking in slow, careful motions, ready to pull away if you don’t want the touch. But your lower lip wobbles, head dipping a little, before leaning into the gentle feel, the broad, reassuring warmth of his palm, the callouses rasping against your scrubbed-soft skin.

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Az murmurs, closer than he should sound from the doorway, but then you feel the slightly cool breath of his shadows curling against your cheek, and a tear drips down your face. You nod. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice thick, clogged with emotion, “now. I’m fine now.”

“Are you…” Azriel begins, trailing off when you glance at him questioningly, his heart aching when you turn your gaze to him, the small cuts peeking out from atop the duvet. Cassian takes up the lead, thumb still gently sweeping over your shoulder. “We want to hold you. Will you let us?”

Your lower lip wobbles, eyes growing hot and wet at the simple ask, somehow knowing exactly what you’re too afraid and embarrassed to ask for. “Yes…” you manage, voice small and quiet.

Neither of them comment on it, moving with swift certainty, collecting at your sides as their wings reorganise at their backs. It’s a rare sight to see them in anything other than their leathers, but the soft fabric is welcomed as they settle, the pale linen thin enough for you to feel heat through it, to almost be swept away by the comfort their scent brings, like returning home after weeks away, remembering the scent that you become too quickly accustomed to, to fully appreciate and treasure.

You lean into Cassian’s side, head tipped against his shoulder, Azriel pressed close enough to twine your fingers together in your lap atop the sheets, shadows roaming freely between the three of you, a sure sign you’re home again.

A long sigh comes from the doorway, sounding more resigned than disapproving—he knew this was going to happen at one point or another. There would be no separating any of you in a moment of need or vulnerability.

“I thought I told you to at least wait until she’d recovered a little more,” Rhys sighs, a gently scolding tone to his words, eyes displeased but softening when they spot how you’ve practically melted into his brothers’ sides. You switch subjects, eyeing the tray he’s brought, stomach grumbling as the promise of a hot meal dawns in your mind. “That smells good…” you murmur, watching him intently, and a fond smile curves his lips.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhys replies. “Your favourite, if my memory serves.”

Your brows curve, lip wobbling again—you don’t deserve this. Them.

But Rhys has already leaned over Cassian, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smoothly sliding the tray into your lap.

“Eat,” he instructs softly. “If you’re still so inclined, you can cry afterwards, but eat first, okay?”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

#poly!bat boys #batboys x reader #poly!batboys x reader #batboys x reader fluff #poly!batboys x reader fluff #before the corn grows.

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kaluxsims · 10 days ago

Text

It's curtains for you! (evil laugh) Silliness aside, this was treat 1 for my Simblreen trick-or-treaters, a variety of recolors for creepy curtains. Dreadful drapes. Wicked window dressings. Oops, more silliness. I'll put the download up here, but there's more info and previews under the cut.

Download: SFS or MediaFire

Note: I've renamed the mesh files, so please delete the originals. This is especially important for TNW's Velvet Seclusion curtains, because I edited the mesh.

There are three parts to this recolor set. Details are under each preview.

Simplest first. Just some recolors for Veranka's 3t2 The Red Curtains. The mesh now has the original recolors merged in.

Now, the drama. The patterns. The gloomth. I lowered The Ninth Wave's 3t2 Velvet Seclusion curtains to be below the AL ceilings, but I didn't stop there. I wanted more spoop. I edited the mesh to take taller decorative top pieces and made a bat version. Because I edited the mesh, old recolors don't look right anymore. I included some recolors by Donnha that have been updated to work with my edited mesh. The flourish and doodads up at the top are done with texture transparency on a flat surface. It means the same mesh can have different shapes, and it's lower poly. It also means they sometimes look like that first one, but it's not really that noticeable when they're not against a backdrop in sunlight. They'll look better in your gloomy rooms.

Then there are some recolors of Hugelunatic's Contempo Curtain and a new wider version, so that you can do this...

The wider Contempo curtains are made to fit behind the Velvet Seclusion ones, the better to keep your sinister sims' secrets. The wider Contempo curtains are repo'ed to HL's originals.

That should be everything you need to know. Hope you like them and Happy (nearly) Halloween! The rest of my treats will be posted over the next three days, with treat 4 coming on Halloween.

Credits: Veranka for the 3t2 The Red Curtain mesh and textures, The Ninth Wave for 3t2 Velvet Seclusion mesh and texture, Donnha for additional Velvet Seclusion recolors, Hugelunatic for the Contempo Curtain mesh and texture, and the creators of the patterns used (sorry, I found them on Pinterest)

@simblreenofficial

#ts2cc #sims2cc #sims 2 download #sims 2 custom content #sims 2 cc #the sims 2 cc #s2cc #sims 2 decor #sims 3t2 #simblreen 2024 #simblreen participant

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whateverloomis · 6 months ago

Note

Omg ok so uh.... Can I request some knifeplay with poly!ghostface and an innocent/naïve reader? 🥺

AGGHHH I got carried away here, anon 😩 I hope I delivered 🫡 Thank you for your request bb <33

Warnings: SMUT, Knife play, blood play (blood pact-ish), fingering, making out, oblivious reader, AFAB reader (no use of pronouns,) hint of Stully, unedited.

Word count: 1.3k

Ever since you joined the friend group Billy and Stu took a liking to you. It started off as casual conversations and getting to know each other but after nearly a year of mixed signals and you being too oblivious, all three of you ended up in a situationship.

Billy Loomis was an expert at manipulating people and he got a kick of it whenever he got the chance to target you with his sinister intentions. Stu just liked to sit back and watch as you slowly fell for Billy and himself, of course.

The day you guys made -whatever kind of relationship you had- official was over a blood pact. Little did you know the boys just wanted to claim you as theirs, in their own fucked up way.

It was a Friday after movie night with Sid, Tatum and Randy. Billy and Stu waited rather impatiently for their girlfriends and Randy to leave in order to finally have you to themselves. Once they did, the energy quickly got tense.

"It's been a while..." Billy said softly, sitting next to you on the couch as he placed his hand on your thigh. You looked at him in genuine confusion. "Been a while since what? We just watched a movie." You answered and Billy smirked, looking away momentarily before looking back at you.

"A while since we've done this." He answered and moved closer to you, placing a few soft kisses on your lips.

Pulling back slightly, you bit your lip and looked at him in the eyes before leaning in again, but before you could continue kissing, Stu walked in the living room.

"Not fair! Don't start the party without me!" He said playfully and you giggled at his comment and Billy's annoyed glare.

You noticed that Stu placed a large candle on the table in front of the couch and sat down on the floor in front of it before lighting the flame.

"C'mon, we've got a surprise for you." Billy said and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the small coffee table and sitting on the floor, pulling you along the way until you sat between his legs.

You looked at the boys in confusion, "Surprise? It's not my birthday yet (or is it?)"

"You say the dumbest shit sometimes." Stu replied in amused mock and you flipped him off.

"Enough." Billy said from behind you and grabbed your hand, lowering it along with his. "We're making our relationship official" He continued and your eyes widened.

"But... You guys have girlfriends..." You said, as if fucking their boyfriends behind their backs wasn't bad enough.

"It's okay YN, they don't mind." Stu said as casual as ever. "Right Billy?, he continued, and Billy nodded in response.

You looked at both of them, searching for anything that indicated they weren't being honest, but everything seemed to be normal. They wouldn't lie to you, and you trusted them so you went along with it.

"Okay! So what's the surprise?" You asked them excitedly and Billy placed a knife on the table. You looked at it in question and curiosity got the best of you. You felt the urge to touch the blade and let it take over you.

Running your finger over the blade you admired how shiny it was. Sharp. It looked freshly polished and neat. Both boys looked at you, amusement written all over their faces.

"We're gonna do... A little blood pact to make our relationship official... Special." Billy said. You felt his hot breath on your neck and observed as he picked up the knife.

Stu stood up and kneeled in front of you, stretching your legs and placing them over his lap, rubbing your thighs as if he were soothing the sensitive skin.

You felt fear, anxiety rushed through your body but you knew this is how you can show your trust and dedication to them, right?

"Is this... Really how it works?" You asked, seeking for reassurance and confirmation.

"Of course baby... This is how you show your trust. How you give yourself to us." Billy said and Stu smirked in amusement.

And of course... you believed them.

Billy placed the knife on one of your thighs and ran the blade across your skin softly. You shivered at the cool sensation and it made your nipples pebble up, showing through your shirt.

Stu noticed and trailed his gaze down to your tits, squeezing your legs in response. "Looks like someone's excited." He said, and you blushed at his words, unable to admit the obvious.

"As it should be." Billy said and pressed the knife against your skin, making you whine at the sensation. The sting was eliciting a strange feeling of pleasure that you couldn't understand at the moment, but you loved every second of it.

Billy continued his actions, marking your skin with a small B and S. You looked at your thigh and blood was dripping down, pooling on the floor beneath you.

"Go ahead." Billy told Stu and he released your legs carefully, positioning himself between them and licking some of the red stripes from your thigh. Savoring you.

You moaned softly at the sight and sensation. Stu bit hit lip as a reaction to your taste, a bit of blood dripping from his lip.

Billy collected the blood with his finger from Stus lip and brought it to his own, sucking on it and tasting you as well.

"So sweet..." He whispered in your ear and collected more blood from your thigh, this time bringing it to your lips in order for you to taste yourself as well.

It had a metallic taste, but to your surprise you could also taste the faintest hint of sweetness. "Mm... You're right." You responded and immediately felt Billy's cock twitch against your back. Your words excited him. Your blood. You.

Stu bit his lip and chuckled before leaning in and kissing you. You could taste your blood on his tongue as he teased you with it. Moaning into his mouth you crawled towards him and straddled his lap. Billy observed both of you making out intensely and huffed out a "Fuck..." before standing up and walking towards the couch.

Stu stood up with your legs wrapped around his waist and walked towards the couch as well, sitting you between him and Billy.

The boys scooted close to you and started to kiss the sides of your neck, breathing and moaning against you. They stole kisses from each other sometimes too which made you moan in response. The boys weren't that affectionate with each other but when you got the pleasure of seeing it happen it drove you crazy.

Billy sneaked his hand between your thighs and up your skirt, rubbing your clit through your underwear. You rested your head against his shoulder and moaned at the sensation.

Stu also reached under your skirt but instead he spread some of the blood along your skin, tasting you one more time before cutting your underwear open with the knife.

You gasped in response and bit your lip. "You owe me new underwear now, Macher. You said and he laughed at your sassy tone. "I prefer you without them on." You moaned at his response and spread your legs for him.

Billy chuckled at his boyfriend's flirty comment and continued to rub your clit at a steady pace. Stu started to run two fingers over your entrance before slipping them all the way in. "Fuck, you feel so good around my fingers" he moaned out.

"I bet that hole feels better around my dick." Billy countered, always the competitive kind in bed.

All you could do was moan and shake at the feeling of both boys playing with your cunt and giving you all of their attention. They rubbed and finger fucked you expertly. The sensation of their movements coursed through your body and you swore you were gonna cum any second.

"Fuck... Fuck!" You moaned the way that you usually do when you were gonna reach your high, but suddenly the boys stopped. You whined as your legs shook at the loss of the intense pleasure they were creating.

"You're not getting your release yet." Billy said and Stu picked you up over his shoulder. "We're taking this upstairs." He said. The night was just about to begin.

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis x you #scream (1996)#billy loomis x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostfacesmut #stu macher smut #stu macher x billy loomis #stu matcher x reader

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bitchlessdino · 1 year ago

Note

I voted for Joshua but, in my heart I chose both him and Jeonghan lol. I've been in a JeongShua drought lately

+ love your writing!!! would you mind to write some smutty jihan x reader? please

Pairing: bf!jeonghan x afab!reader x bf!joshua

Genre: humor, smut

word count: 1.5k

tags: established poly relationship, NO INCEST I cannot emphasize this enough, spanking, spitting, an*l play, double pen., sex toy, mouth fucking, throat bulge, degradation (cumslut, some objectification), unprotected sex

Summary: Just as conniving as your boyfriends, you convince both of them to get the same haircut without the other one knowing. The moment they came home, realizing what you've done, they show you the kind of consequences you've earned yourself by being a little trickster.

author note: so siblings or dating is a little thing where people guess whether a pairing in a picture is either siblings or dating and sometimes it what you least expect. So when I saw these pics separately for the first time I had to think long and hand how these two would work together, I immediately wanted this fic to be silly bc they are so so silly 😃 well enjoy!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han

“Babe what the fuck.”

Your camera flashed bright white, getting them both in the same frame. At this point, you were laughing your ass off as both your boyfriends stared at you unamused. “You guys look great. I have great taste.”

After dating for a year, you’ve had your fair share of pranks, leading up to countless photos and videos that haunt you to this day. Dating one of them was exciting enough, dating two of them became utter chaos. When the opportunity rose for you to get them both back at the same time, you took it.

You let out their collective sighs as you jumped around them with taunting laughter like a child on a sugar high. Their faces didn’t even look the least bit alike but when they got identical haircuts, the more similarities you were starting to see. Joshua was the first to speak up his bemusement while Jeonghan looked almost impressed, holding back a bit of his own laughter.

“It’s not that funny,” Joshua said, deadpanned.

“No, it’s really that funny,” You insisted.

He trodded off toward your laughing figure before throwing you over his shoulder. His hand came over your ass in harsh spanks, but it did not falter the boisterous notice you were making. “Stop”–spank–“laughing,”–spank.

“Josh,” you responded between giggles, “You and Hannie look so fucking alike right now!”

“Okay. I’m taking you to bed. I know how to shut you up.”

He brought you to your shared room before throwing you on the bed, Jeonghan following after in his chuckles, while a big and bright smile is still on your face. You felt none of the threat oozing from Joshua’s eyes but Jeonghan knew exactly what was coming and although he wasn’t as bothered by your practical joke like Joshua was, he was looking forward to giving you your just desserts.

“Say it.”

“Josh,” you moaned.

Joshua held your head down on the mattress, cheek pushed into the sheets, as his thick, long fingers plunged in and out of you. “Not that. You know what I want to hear. Jeonghan, remind them.”

Jeonghan’s raw cock stood mere inches from your face, a sinister smile on his face. He pressed the curve of the head to your lips before he slapped it against them. “You’re gonna play dumb for us, baby? Or are you really just that dumb?”

“Hannie…” you sighed into the sheets, breath hitching as you felt a knuckle curve into your warmth, “Give it to me please…”

His pristine bangs swept over his forehead, reaching his eyes. His gentle voice prodded into you just as much as his cock teased to be inside you. “Then say it. You’re not our little cockslut for anything, so say what we want to hear.”

You mewled in yearning for Jeonghan, gripping the sheets desperately. “I’m…sorry…”

“For?”

Your answer got caught in your throat, muffled moans only escaped as Joshua pushed in a third finger, twisting them inside you as strikes of his free hand handed on your ass already bruised with his clutches. Your arousal slides down his forearms, his thumb pressed against the rim of your puckered entrance and with that, you whine. Your shallow breaths took a slow release, looking back in the eyes of the boyfriend whose cock couldn’t look more edible and perfect to fuck the inside of your throat.

“I’m sorry…for t-tricking you…”

“Good,” Joshua replied, “before I forgive you, I need you to say something else for me.”

“Y-yes…”

He exchanged knowing with his boyfriend, eyes flickering with fire that had the power to burn every inch of your skin, once having let you suffer in the throes of being blue-balled. Edging was the bane of your existence, but their way of life.

“Say how much you need our cocks in you.”

“…I,” You swallowed, “desperately need your cocks me…”

“Are you going to be a good little slut for us?” Jeonghan joined.

“Yes…I’ll be your good slut…”

“Because that’s what you want, right?” Joshua added, “You’re made to be a couple of holes we can fuck in, right?”

“Yes…I’m just a couple of holes to be filled up by your cocks…”

“Who’s cumslut are you?”

“Y-yours, Josh…And y-yours, Hannie.”

“See, it does matter the jokes you pull on us, you’ll never beat us, we own you. You belong to us. You’re our perfect little slut for us to use up. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes…” your voice gave out, your climax coming and going, the clench of your warmth sucking in Joshua’s fingers, “I’m yours to fuck and nobody else’s.”

In that second, Jeonghan rewarded you and his girth stretched the circumference of your mouth. Your eyes, blown open from the adjustment, stared back at Jeonghan, a whimpering mess all over his cock. He let out a groan, and a hand of his ran down your hair. “What a perfect little mouth…”

Meanwhile, Joshua is sucking off the bit of you left on his fingers and his cock aligned at your arousal before he made himself known. You pounded your fist at your side, while the other fisted Jeonghan’s length so you can reach the base. Your tears ran away from your eyes in protest, burning down your cheek as you felt him enter your throat, a bulge taking shape at the column of your neck.

“Fuck, you look so good…” Jeonghan groaned.

He held his hand over the bulge, moving gently down and up to feel it form and disappear. Besides being utterly entertaining, the sensation it shot through him was I compared to anything else. Your throat was like a perfect home, taking every inch of him, molded perfectly to his shape.

God, did it hurt, but something about him filling you, holding himself inside you, as moisture leaked from your face in a scorching heart was heart-pounding, frightful, but all the more thrilling. Jeonghan pulled out for a moment, letting you take him at your pace—a wet, flustered, sob-stained mess that gasped for beyond oxygen—before abandoning mercy and fucked you to the depth of your throat.

Joshua, on the other hand, split your divide wide for the taking, and his cock doesn’t wait a moment to adjust, just fucking your insides until he could feel you swell around his girth. He threw his head back, your ass jiggling against every thrust like dessert, flawless collapsing around his hips.

In the midst of this, he has your toy, wrapping it around his lips to moisten it for comfort, and his saliva lubed its silicone exterior. “All your holes. Remember that.”

He spat at your puckered lip, a shiver ran up your spine, and he lathered it soft, prepping you for entry. As insurance, a translucent ribbon stretched from him and your toy before it finds plugged inside you, Joshua now in control of both your lower ends.

You shook beneath him, mouth full of cock, holes fucked full to the point you could be classified as your common electrical outlet, and you felt dirty. Safe to say it was in the best way.

Jeonghan, who has held himself back the entire time inside you, finally released his proof of sin, pouring it down your throat like a hot, strong faucet, making your body jump in response. In turn, you feel your arousal follow soon after, the buckling of your hips not bothering Joshua in the slightest, and you begin to gently come down from one high to move on to another.

Joshua, held you by your ass cheek, hand ensuring the toy inside you takes full advantage while tugged against your hole’s resistance, pushing in and out of you between your plush whines. “That’s right, cum…cum around my cock again…good sluts can handle more…”

Joshua pushed you against the mattress deep until there was nothing but your body and him, your thighs pulsated around him. Your screams were loud and satisfying as you spoke only in his name. His cock shot loads inside you, final thrusts taking their final strikes until he was empty. He pulled, his hot, molten cum oozing right out of you. His knees took a fall, folding his thighs flat against his shins and he’s catching his breath.

Jeonghan pulled out as well, laying himself out on your cheek, twitching on your face in utter fatigue. “Good fucking job, baby.”

“Damn good fucking job,” Joshua repeated before pressing a kiss to your side.

Clean-up wasn’t an option at this point with all the energy drained from all your bodies and at the moment it was fine, it was time to rest. Jeonghan, who usually can’t stand to be without his phone for a few minutes, retrieves it from the bedside table, seeing the screen plastered with notifications. “Y/n, what the fuck? You sent our picture to ‘Siblings or Dating’ on Instagram?”

You slightly chuckled, momentarily forgetting about that. “Oops. That I did.”

“Well, it looks like you have more to learn don’t you,” Joshua said, now fueled by sheer spite, “Good thing your ass is open and ready for us.”

#svthub #seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua hong smut #hong joshua smut #yoon jeonghan #hong jisoo #joshua hong #hong joshua #seventeen #seventeen joshua hong #seventeen joshua #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen yoon jeonghan

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miyacults · 10 months ago

Note

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

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mamisfavmosher · 1 year ago

Note

hi love, can i request something similar to tap out but where reader’s being too overstimulated and passes out please? thank you!

of course! thanks for the request!

pass out // poly!judgment day x fem!reader

(see what i did there?) anyways, sorry this took so long...

SMUT - MINORS DNI

warnings: kinda rough!judgment day, reader passes out, spanking, degradation kinda, slapping, almost safewording, crying, etc

Readers POV

"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!" I pleaded.

To be fair, I had been a brat all day and it was only a matter of time until I did something that the rest of the Judgment Day deemed out of line. The act in question was intentionally tripping Damian on his way to the ring just to be petty. In the moment, he had immediately turned to glare at me, but refused to acknowledge the situation anymore until we reached the dressing room.

"Oh, so now you wanna apologize? Too bad. You've been a brat all day and I'm sick of it!" Priest raised his voice. His hand closed around my throat, pinning me to the wall. I watched in a panic as Rhea's lips painted a sinister smile onto her face. "You dumb whore." Damian shoved me toward the couch where Rhea was now sitting. I felt tears starting to gather in my eyes as I knew what was coming.

Rhea cracked her knuckles and pulled me over her lap. "You think you can humiliate the Judgment Day, huh?" Her hand came down hard on my ass and I immediately tried to squirm out of her hold. I gasped in pain as I felt the tingle starting to form on my skin from where her ring-clad fingers had struck. "Bad news, you little bitch," Her hand came down hard again. "You can't." I writhed in her grip as she continued spanking me, the pain increasing greatly with each hit.

"Mami, please! Please, stop, it hurts!" I sobbed as tears rolled down my cheeks. She only hit me harder.

"Serves you write, chica," Dom moved closer and fisted his hand into my hair. "You wanted to act like a brat, so now we're gonna treat you like one." He bared his teeth toward me in an evil grin, the hand in my hair moving to roughly shove my face to the side before slapping my cheek. Tears pricked in my eyes as the pain spread through my face. "Open up." His thumb hooked into my mouth and forcefully opened it wider. Dom quickly shoved his pants down his legs before thrusting into my mouth.

Rhea made a sound of approval from behind me as I gagged and choked on Dom's cock, her finger nails scratching over my sore flesh. "Why don't you two boys come and join in on the fun, too?" She looked toward Damian and Finn who had been watching the scene play out so far. The two men smirked at each other before making their way over to us.

Finn was now side by side with Dom, swiftly pulling his pants down his legs and taking hold of his cock. Damian had walked behind me, muttering comments to Rhea about fucking the brattiness out of me. Both of his hands came down hard on my ass, a loud slap resonating through the room. I let out a yelp and flinched at the stinging ache. "Maybe you should think twice before you try and embarrass me of all people, you fucking brat." Damian seethed out and shoved his cock into my ass.

A pained squeal escaped my throat as the burning sensation of being stretched too quickly appeared. Nearly two seconds later, Dom removed himself from my mouth so Finn could have a turn. Finn pushed his dick all the way to the back of my throat causing me to gag and sputter. His hands were placed on the sides of my head as he held me in place, my nose pressed against his stomach. I moved my hands to shove at Finn's legs, my oxygen running low.

Finn moved away for a few seconds as Dom came to kneel by my side, a look of feigned pity on his face. He quickly captured my wrists in his hold and nodded at Finn to continue. I inhaled a small gasp before I was pressed back into the same position. "Brats don't get to fuckin' breathe, lass." He sneered at me.

Small mewls sounded from the back of my throat as I squirmed in attempt to escape the situation. Periodically, Finn would back up long enough for me to take one breath before swiftly blocking off my oxygen again.

All the different sensations had black dots forming in my vision. Rhea's nails felt like a chainsaw ripping my flesh. Damian's aggressive penetration had my entire body ignited on fire. Finn was causing my mind to spiral into a panic as he seemed to be offering me less oxygen each time. Dom's position of restraining my only defense is causing an intense fight or flight reaction within me, and right now, flight is winning the war.

I attempted to inhale, but as nothing reached my lungs, my vision went out. My body lost all strength as it gave out and went completely limp.

Dom was the first to notice. He was the only one with a clear view of my face. Remaining silent for a few seconds, he observed to try and understand what was happening. Once he realized I had passed out, he quickly alerted the others. All four of them stopped what they were doing immediately. "Sweetheart?" Dom's thumb gently rubbed across my cheek. "Can you hear me?" He was panicking now.

Rhea moved my body so that I was lying on my back on the couch, her hand gently running through my hair, trying to bring me back. "Baby..." Her eyebrows furrowed as I remained unmoving. "Babydoll, c'mon.... wake up." She muttered.

Finn had run off to get some water and a snack as the other three still worked on bringing me back.

Damian gently rubbed at my legs, Dom was tightly holding my hand, and Rhea was consistently observing my face while running her fingers through my hair.

As my body calmed down and a steady income of oxygen had reentered my lungs, my eyes slowly opened. The three of them had relieved looks on their faces.

The reminders of what had just happened flashed in my mind and I immediately flinched away from their touches.

"Mi amor..." Damian removed his hands from my legs, but stayed close by. "Are you okay? What just happened? Talk to us." In the back of my mind, I knew he was concerned along with the rest of them, but all I could hear right now was the aggression in his tone from just a few moments ago. I faintly shook my head as hot tears began to streak down my cheeks.

Finn ran back into the room with a water bottle and snack in hand. He set them down before quickly kneeling down next to me. "Is she okay? What did I miss?" He asked in a hurry. Dom quietly filled him in that I had just woken up.

".... I couldn't breathe." My voice was weak and quiet, coming out in sobs. "And- and there was nothing I could do about it." I cried. My hands wiped at the tears streaming down. The weight of the room became heavy as they realized their mistake. They had given me no way of escaping the situation.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I didn't even notice." Rhea said, almost speechless at the realization. "We're so so sorry, please." Her hand fidgeted on the edge of the couch, itching to grab mine. I chewed on my bottom lip, contemplating everything in my head. My eyes drifted to the ceiling as I choked back another sob.

"It was so scary, Mami." I sniffled, my hand sliding into her warm palm. She acknowledged the sign that I was ready for touch and immediately pulled me into her strong arms. I was placed on her lap and the boys sat on either side of us.

Rhea cuddled me into her chest, pressing soft kisses to my head. "I know, baby. I know. I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again. I promise." She shushed me.

"I'm sorry for being a brat, but I didn't think it would lead to this." I mumbled into Rhea's neck.

"No, no, no. Baby, this isn't your fault at all. It's ours. It never should've gone that far and that's on us. Don't blame yourself for something you can't control. We love you so much and it breaks our hearts to see that this happened because of us and our carelessness. I just hope you can forgive us, sweetheart." Priest spoke passionately with a comforting hand on my leg.

"Love, ya mean the world to us and I hope you know that. And I'm sorry for what happened tonight, but you have my word that we would never do this on purpose." Finn reassured.

"...I know." I glanced around at them all.

"We love you, pretty girl." Rhea peppered kisses on my cheek. "So so much!" A deep kiss on the lips. "And we're so sorry."

"I love you guys, too." I gave them a soft, reassuring smile.

They spent the rest of the night holding me close and continuously telling me how much they loved me and appreciated me, and how sorry they were.

At the end of the day, they could be very rough, intense people, but they loved me endlessly and made sure to show me.

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