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darlingdarkly · 13 days

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Fates Worse Than Death part 4

Deimos x f!reader Noncon Enemies to Lovers

6k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements, unprotected pnv climactic intercourse, outdoor sex, chase kink

Part: 1, 3, 5

You expect to be locked up. Caged, enclosed, tied down and forget about the key, it no longer exists. But when you wake up that next morning from a deep restful sleep, courtesy of your extremely comfortable new mattress, and he carefully undoes your restraints you realize that won’t be the case. He walks away from you, already showered, dressed and ready for the day.

When he turns and realizes you haven’t followed him towards the bathroom for your shower he speaks. “Are you going to get up or lay in bed all day?” He asks like you have a choice. “For what? To take a shower just so I can come back and get re-tied down? Or are you just coaxing me into getting up so you can move me to a proper cell?”

“You’re only a prisoner in your mind. Now come on or our breakfast is gonna get cold.” Yeah fucking right, you think. He turns away once more and you exclaim your retort to his back. “The restraints I sleep in beg to differ!”

He doesn’t turn back in your direction, just calls back at you from over his shoulder. “Those restraints keep you from slitting my throat in the middle of the night. Something I’m sure you’ve fantasized about more than once.” He’s not wrong. “When you can show me you can be trusted, maybe I’ll give you a little more free will.”

“You know the last time I checked, people who are living of their own free will get to come and go as they please. I try to take one little walk in the woods and I wake up tied to a table. Is that all in my mind too?”

“We both know ‘a little walk in the woods’ isn’t all you had in mind and besides, for someone who considers themselves a prisoner you sure do a lot of complaining about your freedoms. Tell me, have they started furnishing the cells back at Rainbow with queen sized beds these days?” He counters.

“No, but at least we believe in taking prisoners instead of just cutting down every adversary we come across with no discretion, that’s more than you can say.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He challenges.

“Yeah, and why is that, Deimos?” You challenge back arms crossed over your chest.

He finally turns back to you. “Because it’s about time Rainbow learned a lesson about meddling in things that are none of its business. Because you came out here to me, sought me out with ill intent and you couldn’t finish the job, none of you could. You were out-maneuvered, unprepared and arrogant and you had no idea what you were dealing with.” He takes a step forward before continuing, bridging the distance between you.

“I left you still breathing for information, to find out what you knew and to try and get a handle on who I’ve let get too close.” There’s a pause as he closes the last of the gap, standing before you and encompassing all of your attention as you stare up at him raptly.

“And I kept you because I like you.” He leans down close. Calm, cool and collected, showing you even unrestrained he harbors no fear for you and you can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “And because I can.”

You don’t have a response for that and are ultimately left staring after him as he stands back up straight and tall and walks away once again, knowing he’s won the little mental battle of wills.

When you’re too stunned to move, still processing the information he grows impatient. “The hose is always an option, sugar cane. The choice is yours.” You scowl but get up off the bed and push past him towards the bathroom.

You undress and he’s way more attentive than he was the first time, eyes running over you with a scrutiny that’s not purely for security purposes. He reaches out with a glove as you spin around to head for the shower and it brushes against the exposed skin of your ribs, making you pull away and sneer like a cat being rubbed on its belly by unfamiliar fingers.

“Easy. I just wanna see how you’re mending.”

“Yeah? Well you can look with your eyeballs, not your hands.” You say this but don’t pull away any further. He doesn’t press it and removes his hand, apparently satisfied with the progress of the healing process.

Showered and ready for the day, redressed in the jumpsuit that had been your downfall you follow him towards the mess hall but instead of carrying right on through the huge double doors he heads in the direction of his office, something that puzzles you. When you get there your breakfast is already set up, one for each of you on his desk.

“Working through breakfast? Did you really have that much pile up while you were gone?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“No, you made sure of that, sweetheart. But I didn’t think your breakfast would go down so well while being glared down by a few hundred sets of angry eyes. You're not exactly popular at the moment.”

Your mouth opened for a retort but you thought better of it and just nodded in understanding before sitting down across from him. You both dig in unceremoniously and you watch from across the desk while he checks his emails while he eats, stealing little glances up at him between bites.

You hadn’t really thought much of it the first time, you’d been more occupied on your escape at that point to care about much else. But the desk setting is a bit more intimate than you’d been the first time around, closer than you’d originally been to him and with nothing else to distract you it was impossible not to stare.

He must notice you noticing him. “Something wrong?”

He asks after pulling the mask away from his face just enough to get the food to his mouth but not enough for you to catch a glimpse of him underneath.

“Why do you do that?” He swallows and then answers your question with another question. “Do what?”

You motion to him with your fork. “Eat like that? Why not take the mask off?” You ask the question innocently but there’s depths to your inquisitions, an unmistakable curiosity to know just what lies behind the hard shell.

“Don’t want to.” He leaves it at that but you pursue at your own peril.

“But why?” He cocks his head to the side. Like examining a particularly interesting bug that’s crawled over his foot, you have his full attention now.

“Why do you wanna know, sugar cane? Are you curious about what I look like?” And you can feel his eyes boring into you, he’s stopped looking over at his computer and he’s stopped eating and now so have you as you feel like somehow the tables have turned without you even really noticing and your face is heating.

“I- I don’t know. No.. it’s just.. weird is all.” And that’s all you can muster up in response. Too uncomfortable with the insinuations of the reasons behind your question and he knows but lets you drop it. You both finish your breakfast and it humors him to see you’ve stopped sneaking little looks at him, content just to eat almost with your head down, lost in thought and a bit embarrassed at being seen through so easily.

You go to gather up the trash and trays when he stops you. “Leave it, I’ve got something I want to show you.”

He gets up and you follow after him. He was right for having you eat in his office, every single person you pass in the halls as you make your way to wherever he’s taking you looks at you with loathing. It’s hard to believe short and stocky could have any fans with how much of an asshole he was to you but he must have some kind of winning charm amongst the troops because they all look ready to jump you if not for your all mighty keeper.

You stick close to him and even after you pass through the big double doors exiting the building and pushing out into the open air it still reeks of hate. But he seems not to notice, you’re sure he does notice but he doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. You’re his and they’ll do well to remember that, no matter what attorcites you commit.

“Do you like dogs?” He asks and you are blindsided by the question and all its simplicity, so much so you ask him to repeat himself. “Dogs?”

“Yeah, dogs.” You’re still confused but you answer it, it’s an easy enough question. “Yeah. Why?”

“I’ve been around dogs all my life. My daddy raised hunting dogs, bred ‘em, raised ‘em. Trained ‘em up from young pups, made them into disciplined hunting machines. Blue ticks mostly, but some hounds and setters as well. They’re called man’s best friend for a reason. A well trained dog can sometimes make a better companion than some men. Fiercely driven, highly motivated, loyal to a fault.”

He’s taking you over to the east side of the compound, you’d never been out this way but you’re less concerned with your surroundings than him opening up to you for once. You wonder why he is.

“He instilled his love for canines into me. So much so I took a lot of their characteristics into consideration to help develop my ability. I studied them closely, used their natural born instincts to help advance my own skills. They give to me just as much as I give to them.”

He speaks like he owns them, but you’ve never heard so much as a bark. You can’t imagine being here for all this time and having yet to see or even hear one. It’s when he stops in front of a huge building and opens up the heavy metal doors that you find out why. The noise leaps out at you as soon as the door is cracked.

It’s more than barks, it’s whines and whimpers and even a few bays but they’re not hurt or upset, in fact quite the opposite. You step past him into the building, unlike outside it’s cool and comfortable and he closes the doors behind you before continuing on through the facility.

There are pins set up down either side of the walkway and each pin is a ten by ten foot fenced-in square that houses a single dog. Each pin has a wooden dog house standing in the far corner but none of them are in use, instead each dog is pressed up against the front of the chain link cage as close as they can get, their tails a flurry of wags.

He stops at each cage, stooping down and talking to each in turn while they lap at his gloves through the links in the chain and the others further down the line wait in almost indignant anticipation.

There must be a dozen in all, dogs of a few different breeds and in a whole array of different coats waiting, albeit a bit impatiently for master to come around, it’s clear they’d missed him.

“They’re good dogs. Impossible to keep them quiet though, so I had the place sound proofed. It’s not ideal to keep them here now that we’ve been discovered but they’re like my children and I can’t part with them. It’d end me if anything happened to them.”

You drop down on a knee in front of a cage and the dog inside, what appears to be a blue tick coon hound with a white and brindle coat eases up to the front of the cage, all nose as it sniffs out your scent and must approve of what it smells as it cautiously but hopefully pushes against the cage as you reach out to stroke its fur.

“That’s Clover. Sweet girl, very driven that one but somewhat lacking in discipline and attention span.” She pushes against the cage broadside, rubbing her whole body against it as you give her pettings. “Well hi, hi, hi Clover girl! What a sweet baby!” She rolls over against the chain, dropping onto her back and exposing her belly, which you try your best to reach through the chain with your fingers.

“She likes you.” You smile as your fingers brush over her soft undercoat. “The feelings mutual.” He can’t help but feel that ache gnawing at his heart watching you play with the dogs, he’d expected a positive response but he didn’t expect it to affect him so much seeing you play with them. He tries to recompose himself and continue on.

“Dogs can be a useful asset or they can be a detriment, it’s all about how you work with them. They’re wild in nature, they need release and freedom, a chance to stretch their legs and quell the urges of their instincts. People can be the same way.”

And you don’t like the look he’s giving you, the way his gaze lingers on you from your peripheral. “Where are you going with this, Deimos?” You ask but don’t stop your loving administrations. “I want you to help me with my ability.”

You stop petting Clover and pull your hand away from the fence, prompting her to roll back over and cock her head. “And why would I do that?”

“As an opportunity to stretch your legs. Run wild, not feel so much like a prisoner.” It takes you less than two seconds to shoot him down. “No.”

“Are you sure? Think about it.” He prods. “I don’t need to. No.”

“Come outside with me. It’s too loud in here for a conversation.” You don’t necessarily want to continue this talk, you certainly don’t want to help him train in any way shape or form. He’s a terrorist, the literal direct enemy. But you can’t exactly refuse so you stand and follow him out of the kennel and into the afternoon light. He closes the door behind you and turns to you, clearly avid about making this happen somehow.

“Look, I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is run for the hills, if you can escape me then you’ve earned your freedom, I won’t pursue you any longer.” And he leaves it hanging out in the open just like that.

“And get shocked again? No, not with this thing on my neck. I’ll pass.” He slips a hand into the pocket of his tac pants and pulls out a slim remote, with the singular press of a button the collar of your jumpsuit beeps. It’s hard to believe it’s really that simple. “Just like that?”

“Just like that, sweetheart.” You’re still not exactly comfortable with his little nicknames for you and you’re still wary of the whole thing.

“You want me to run away? Like to try to get away again?” He nods.

“I don’t think I really need to remind you where that got me last time, do I?”

“That was different.” Your brows furrow. “How?”

“You’re supervised this time.”

“Oh really? And what makes you think I’ll believe anything you say? I could get away and you’d probably still catch up to me and bring me back anyway. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

He leans back against the outer wall of the building, another one of the many moments he’s glad for the mask, because there’s a smug smirk resting on his lips as he knows he’s got you, he knows all you need now is a little push to your ego.

“Just to be clear you won’t escape, trust me on that but you can sure as hell try. Besides, have I ever gone back on my word before? I promised if you took that punishment like a good girl I’d find opportunities for you to stretch your legs. This is it, now do you want it or not?”

You consider your options for a moment, there aren’t many and you really don’t want to go back inside and sit on your ass for the rest of the day. “Just run?”

His smirk widens and you can hear it in his voice this time around. “Just run, sugar cane. I’ll give you a thirty second head start. You’ll need it.”

You take one last look over your shoulder towards the wood line before turning back to him. “When do we start?”

His answer is the count. “1.. 2.. 3..”

You can hardly believe what you’re doing as you do it but you take off for the woods, nary a look back over your shoulder once you do, you don’t really know where you’re going, the town was north and this is east but if you can just get away apparently it won’t really matter. You’re hesitant, you heard the beep in the collar of your jumpsuit but your nervous system still remembers the shock it suffered not all too long ago and isn't exactly eager for a second dose.

You drop off the other side of a big hill, zigzagging through brush and around the base of huge pines, your feet slipping through the pine duff at a hurried speed as the breeze pushes through your hair. It does feel good, you have to admit. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt freedom quite like this, the escape felt different somehow. Scared, rushed. Now you just feel a bit exalted.

You hear it and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prick up to points. The whooshing sound of displaced air, this time far easier to spot in the daytime than in the dead of night. His deathMARK. You want to bolt but your feet hold you back, you can only imagine you’re nearing that line. It’s then that he crests the hill behind you and instead of evading him you skid to a stop and so does he. You both stand opposite of each other, catching your breath.

“You’re not trying.” You can’t stand how he just seems to see everything so plainly. “Yes I am.” You lie.

“No. You’re not. Why?” It’s really no use, lying to him, he just sees right through it. “I wasn’t meaning not to. It’s just.. the line.” He’s impressed that after only encountering it once you could possibly know for certain where the line was buried. “I told you your collar is off. You had my word.”

You don’t drop his gaze, your eyes burning into the black panes of his mask, he sighs. “Come here.” He walks up to the line buried in the ground and steps past it before turning around and extending his hand to you. “It’s off, you have my word.” He says it again and the conviction in his voice is hard to not believe.

You walk up to the edge, the point of no return and after a moment's hesitation, you cross it. Your body prepares for the debilitating shock but it never comes and you look up at him, a meek expression on your face, one he’d never seen. “You can trust me.” He doesn’t justify it with an explanation or embellish it, just states it and leaves it at that.

“Now go again, and try to give me a run for my money this time.” You smile, it’s transient, there and then gone. You can’t help it and you hoped he hadn’t caught it, but he did and it’s all he thinks about for the whole thirty seconds of your head start.

Free of all inhibitions you dash through the woods, taking off in a straight line as quickly as you can. It takes longer before you hear the whoosh of the drone this time around. You push yourself faster, arms pumping as you try to out run it. You jump over a fallen log and skirt a huge rock before you come upon fairly flat ground and chance a look over your shoulder. He’s there, trailing you about forty feet back and you feel a dagger of panic shoot through your heart.

You take off again, head down, eyes narrowed as you try to out run him but you can hear his footfalls against the forest floor and he’s gaining. You redirect, shifting directions quickly in an attempt to outmaneuver him.

You bolt around an ancient oak and weave your way between a cluster of young pines but just when you think you’ve got him you feel his arms encircle your waist as he brings you to the ground like a lion pouncing on a gazelle. You instinctively bring your arms up beneath you to cushion the fall as he lands on top of you, his body covering your legs.

You both lie there panting, he can feel your heartbeat through the palms of his gloves at the small of your back and this whole thing might’ve been a mistake because he can feel himself growing half hard just chasing you down.

“Fuck me, how are you so fast?” He just laughs, a hearty genuine sound that rumbles through you and makes a heat flare in your cheeks that’s got nothing to do with running. “Secrets, sugar cane. Gonna try again?”

“You bet your ass I’m trying again.” His response is to smack yours, savoring the little squeal of protest it produces from you as you scramble to get out from underneath him. He pushes up off of you, sitting back with his arms behind him as he looks up at you rise up from the dirt.

You turn and run and he watches after you as he begins the count anew. You have a plan this time, it’s clear there’s no outrunning him, he’s too quick but maybe you can hide. You keep count in your head, if he lets the drone loose before you found your spot then there was no point in hiding at all he’d just catch you again. About twenty seconds into the count in your head—and you hoped to god he kept his count by the Mississippi rule, you found what you were looking for.

A massive oak tree uprooted many, many, years ago, and taking a pit mound with it, had left a divot in the earth and some animal, a lone fox perhaps, had dug it out for a den. There was no time for debate, you expected to hear the whir of the drone at any moment so quickly you crawled into the dugout space and pressed yourself against the exposed roots of the tree.

If the drone had thermal capabilities the spot was useless but if not it’d more than likely fly right by without spotting you. The latter turned out to be true as moments later you heard it whiz by, its flight undisturbed as it scanned the forest further out, it wasn’t much later you began to hear him, following close behind.

This was your opportunity. You waited for him to pass and when you couldn’t hear him any longer you climbed out of the earth and headed north. You made great time, full on sprinting as you tore through the forest. There was no use in trying to sneak, he’d realize soon enough that something was up and change directions.

But soon you heard the distant whir of the blades again, faint but nearing. You had a decision to make, hide again or try and out run it. The forest before you was bare, the brush light and the trees still standing to your dismay. You thought about turning back for the compound, it’d be the last place he’d expect you to head for but before you could you heard the drone overhead. It had found you and without much choice you took off north once again.

You knew it was your last chance for freedom so you barreled forth on legs already tired and worn. You had just made it into a small clearing when he pounced on you, totally sideswiping your body and you tumbled into the circle of pine straw and fallen oak shed rolling over top of each other until you came to a stop straddling him.

You lay there, a mass of panting limbs and it’s not until he’s relatively caught his breath that he realizes you're above him. He’s wary, it’s the unfamiliar cat feeling all over again, except this time the feline has climbed into his lap and he’s not sure whether you’ll simply claw his eyes out or sit and make biscuits. He gets his answer when your hips roll down over him, just an innocent shift of position as you try to readjust that turns into an inadvertent grind against the firm plane of his abdomen. You let out a groan you can’t contain in sinful bliss at the movement and it makes his lips press thin behind his mask, a groan of his own just barely stifled in his throat.

The sensation is exquisite, having been left so abruptly wanting after your recapture and the subsequent consequences you can’t help yourself. But you stop when your brain catches up to your nerve endings and you realize what you’re doing. You go to rise up off of him, embarrassed and a bit appalled at yourself when his hands snap to your hips and you both freeze.

You’re at a standstill, unsure what comes next and he makes the first move, pulling you back by your hips until you’ve moved off of his stomach and yanked you down over his hips, the prominent bulge in his tac pants unmistakable as you slide over it, both of your breaths hitching at the delicious friction.

What comes next is an exchange, a silent pivotal moment communicated solely through subtle touches fueled by mutual desire. It’s hesitant but quick, meaningful but rushed and what it comes to is you rising up off of him to pry at your clothes. It takes him no time to free himself from his confines and when he looks up and you’re still struggling with the god forsaken jumpsuit he motions you back to him. “Let me help.”

You stoop down but as he pulls a wicked looking blade from its sheath on his belt you instinctively pull away only for him to hold you fast. “Stay still and trust.”

He waits as you calm and still for him before he expertly slices a slit in the crotch of your suit. You give him an exasperated look and it makes him chuckle. “It was taking too long, I’ll have them make you a new one.” With the deed done there’s no use in arguing with him so instead you mount him again, grinding against him once more. Your fingers find purchase against him as fists, one balling up in the fabric of his cape, the other looping around the strap of his vest as the skin to skin contact has you keening against him.

He’s had enough teasing and rifles the length of him through the slick lips of your sex, collecting your wetness on the tip and lining himself up before you can change your mind. You have no such second guesses as you drop down onto his length in fact there isn’t much thought going on at all, just primal need. You keep your grip on him as you begin to fuck yourself.

He lets you use him, it’s the first contact of any kind you’ve initiated and he’ll let it run its course, reaping the benefits. His hands never leave your hips as his head drops back, trading the view of where you’re joined for one concentrated on your face and all your varying expressions. Watching your mouth part slightly as you take what was so cruelly denied. You pick up speed, eyes squeezing shut as your vision blurs around the edges, your head tipping back skyward as you ride him for all he’s worth.

His hands explore you, reaching up to cup a supple breast and he wishes to god he’d either had the patience to let you strip or had just cut the whole damn thing off you because you’re still wearing too many god damn clothes for his liking. He wants nothing more than to plant his boots in the dirt and lift you up by the hips, drive into you from below until your eyes roll back but he knows you need this. If you’re to let go of your hesitancy it’s best to be done on your terms. That doesn't mean once you’ve had your fill it’d be over, but he’s a patient man.

The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees is joined in harmony by your soft pleasured sighs and he’s never heard a more beautiful song. Your eyes open and you know what you’re doing is wrong. You glance down, the mere sight of him beneath you makes the alarm bells ring in your head but it also makes you that much wetter, knowing it’s him you’re keening for. It’s wrong but that doesn’t ease the ecstasy of it from coursing through your veins, collecting in a pit of pleasure that pools deep in your belly.

The last of your resolve makes your hips momentarily falter. “Uh uh. Don’t you dare stop.” You go to turn your head from him when one gloved hand releases the grip on your hip to lift up and grab your chin so you’re unable. “Look at me, sweetheart.” Your cheeks heat but you obey, your eyes flitting to the dark lenses of his mask. “‘Atta girl. That’s it, just like that.” As the honeyed poison he speaks begins to ferment you, the simple instinct driven part of your brain takes over, melting at the praise of a proven superior.

You moan at his words and he feels their effects as you tighten around him. “Does it feel good, sugar cane? Hmm?” You’re beyond words, knowing if you tried to speak all the would come out would be unintelligible babbles so you just nod your head frantically, it’s the best you can do.

He keeps a grip on your chin, keeping you trained on him as his other hand palms the swell of your hip, guiding you back into a steady rhythm, one that has you squeezing down around him and a low moan bubbling up in your chest and it’s clear you’re not going to last very long. Your fists tighten into white knuckled grips as your hips cant against his, speeding up as your climax draws near. He can feel you getting closer, his own hips bucking up to greet yours as you slam down onto him with each thrust.

“Come on sugar cane. Let me feel you come for me. Take what you need.” Your pleasure reaches a head, your walls spasming around him as you cry out your pleasure to the canopies above. Your face at this moment is a portrait of desire and he burns the image of it into his mind's eye, committing it to memory as you ride it out above him.

Just as you stop shaking, not even giving you time to recover he pulls out and deftly flips you, pushing you down on your stomach and pushing your knees up beneath you. With your ass raised up high and the length of your right forearm the only thing keeping your cheek from pressing into the dirt he resheaths himself inside you. You howl at the intensity of it, barely sliding off from the hill of your orgasm before he begins the hurried ascent to the next one.

“Deimos!” He growls above you, the sound of his name on your lips only spurring him on. He pulls your hips back into his, relishing his gain of control and chasing the pull of his own release. Your hands clench and unclench against the earth, scratching through the duff and leaves until the rich topsoil cakes under your nails. It’s the last thing on your mind as he fucks you senseless in the midst of the forest.

He knows he’s close, can feel his balls beginning to tighten as they slap against your clit with each thrust. He can tell you’re faring about as well as you push back into him, mewls reaching a heightened pitch as you barrel towards your second release and your lips begin to loosen as you careen towards the edge.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!” You begging him for release is all it takes, his last few thrusts quick and sloppy as he feels you clench around him for a second time as he empties himself inside of you. His hips jut up against yours, pushing in as far as he can go and stilling against you there. Both of you breathing in heavy tandem.

After several moments he pulls out of you unceremoniously and puts himself away before standing. You look up to see him, hand outstretched to help you up off the ground. You take it, and now that the heated pleasure has subsided the wake of regret rises to take its place and you find it hard to look him in the face. He must have trouble finding the right words to say, keenly aware that you’re a bit fragile at the moment and worried that the wrong words could have destructive results so the walk back towards base is a quiet one.

He leads you back to the compound and shuttles you into the kennel while he goes and finds you a change of clothes. Before he leaves he finds it in him to speak. “While I’m gone will you do me a favor?” It wasn’t exactly what you were expecting him to say but it felt like a better option than discussing things between you. “Sure, what is it?”

“Can you feed them for me? There’s a bin at the back with their food and a scoop, the bowls are on a little table next to it. Two scoops for each.” You look towards the back and spot the bin before turning back to him.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods and leaves and you make your way through the aisle and toward the back of the building. Everything is as he said and after separating the bowls out and dishing two scoops of food into each you start at the back and work towards the front. The dogs are well trained and back away from the door while you enter. Sitting patiently as their tails give away their true excitement, thumping against the green AstroTurf floor in an unmeasured staccato.

You set the bowls down and step away before each dog rises and goes to eat. Careful to latch each door shut behind you, you make quick work of it and soon enough you’re setting the last bowl down in Clover’s pin. Unlike the other dogs she noses around your legs while you place her bowl on the floor and goes right to eating as soon as it’s lowered enough for her snout to reach. You can’t help but rub her sides while she digs in and you don’t even notice his return until he clears his throat outside her door.

“All done.” You say as you step through and latch it tight behind you. He hands you your clothes, another old set of fatigues instead of a new jumpsuit and points you in the direction of the bathroom so you can change. You can’t shake the feeling there’s been some kind of shift between you and this is only proven further as you head for the bathroom and he doesn’t follow after you. You shut the door and turn on the tap, splashing water up on your face and staring up at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t know what this means, afraid to think about what kind of line you’ve crossed without even really knowing it but something is different.

When you’d washed up and changed you found him again and you both left the kennel, completely different people than when you’d entered.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #tw dark content #deimos smut #deimos x reader #r6s deimos x you #r6s deimos smut #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #r6s deimos #tw noncon #twdubcon

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

A Little Disappointed

Deimos X f!Reader

Requested by Anon

Disclaimer: I've never written Deimos before (hope I wrote him well!) Additionally, this story contains EXTREMELY dubious-consent and themes of non-con (emphasis on the NON-con). Please do not read if you are under 18 or are sensitive to these kinds of topics, please and thank you.

Summary: You are a Rainbow Six Operator and you have been captured by Deimos. He tries to intimidate you with his usual methods, but when he can see that isn't working, he tries something different.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, dub/non-con, reader is smol, Deimos isn't nice (duh), rough sex, interrogation, clothed male/naked female, a little dacryphilia if you squint

Word Count: 1.6k

Seriously if you read beyond this point and don't like the content then that's on you. Final warning.

You wriggled in your seat, trying desperately to free yourself from the ties that held you in place. Taking in your surroundings, you could see that you were in a small room, with a fluorescent light above your head, and only one door on the far end of the room. There was a chair in front of you. It was at that moment you realized that you were naked.

When the door opened, you jumped. A masked man stalked forward. He was tall and frightening…intimidating enough to make your heart stop. You gulped, wishing that you’d stayed on base like your superior officer told you to. The man sat across from you casually, leaning back and legs spread out.

“Where am I?”

“Now, now, that’s classified. But I was thinking, before I came in here, about how I wanted to get the information out of you that I need.” He leaned forward. You could see your reflection in the eyes of the mask. “You’re a good lookin’ girl, no need to harm that pretty face. How about you tell me where the Rainbow Six base is, and I’ll let you walk out of here free and clear? Hm?”

You furrowed your brow. You had friends in Rainbow. You had people counting on you to keep your mouth shut. There was no way you were just going to give up that information willingly. If it came down to it, you were better off dead than giving up your squadmates.

“Just kill me, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

You were trying to keep yourself from crying. You were a soldier, how embarrassing would it be to cry in front of your enemy? You couldn’t deny the terror building inside of you though.

“Yeah, thought you might say that.”

He stood up. His height alone was enough to send a chill down your spine as he stepped forward and knelt in front of you on one knee.

You couldn’t tell if he was looking you in the eyes, or looking at your body. You felt a warm trickling tear fall down your cheek. Damn it, you thought.

“Yeah, now that’s a good look for you sweetheart. Go ahead and cry it out.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” You said, venom laced in your tone.

Once again you tried to wriggle free, but your hands were bound together and your feet were tied to the chair tightly. You weren’t going anywhere unless he let you go.

“Well, I have to say I’m a little disappointed you’re not going to give up the information to me so willingly.” He stood up again. You felt so small in comparison to him. He cupped your breast in his gloved hand, “perhaps you’d like to make it up to me somehow?”

“You’re disgusting.” You said as he brushed over your nipple with his thumb.

Your body deceived your mind though. His touch felt good. You looked away from him, embarrassed that you felt that way. It wasn’t like you saw much…action being in the Rainbow base all the time. You didn’t want to admit that you were…sort of into the idea of a big guy like him having his way with you.

“Heh, looks like maybe you would like to make it up to me, huh?”

Another tear fell down your face, and you wished you could wipe it away.

“You call me disgusting and yet…” He brought his fingers down to the wet pool formed on the wooden chair underneath you. He collected some of the juices you’d expelled there and brought them to your lips. “You’re so wet.”

He ran his soaked and gloved fingers over your bottom lip.

“C’mon sweetheart, open up.” You begrudgingly obeyed, fearful of what he may do if you didn’t.

The taste of leather combined with your own juices filled your mouth. You felt tears continuing down your cheeks, though you weren’t necessarily in distress, you were still frightened.

“If you’re good for me, I might even make sure you enjoy yourself.” He pulled his fingers free from your lips.

In a swift motion he pulled out his knife and snapped the ties off your feet, though your hands still remained bound to each other. You didn’t move though. You weren’t sure where you would go even if you did make a run for it. There was no telling where you were being held, and if there were others waiting to catch you or kill you just beyond the door. Not to mention, you could see the revolver resting on his hip, just waiting for a target to fire at.

“You’re smart, I like that.” He chuckled, “Now, I want you to get up and kneel on the chair, keep your back to me honey.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No I won’t.”

He sighed heavily, “I’m not going to be nice if I have to repeat myself. Come on.”

You sensed the truth in his words and decided to stand and turn. You got on the chair again, one leg at a time and let your breasts hang over the back of it. One of his hands, now gloveless, rubbed your asscheek, placing small taps on it as though he were testing its resistance.

“You know when I found you, I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way this girl is actually a Rainbow Six Operator, she’s far too pretty to work for someone like that.’ But…here you are.”

You heard the clanking of what you assumed was him removing his belt. He tossed it on the floor, confirming your suspicions. You gulped.

“I-I didn’t know you guys did stuff like this during your interrogations.” You said, somehow hoping that it would make him stop.

You felt the head of his cock as he ran it up and down over your folds, coating it in your wet slick.

“We don’t…but I didn’t know Rainbow had girls there that look like you either. Just relax, it’ll be over soon.” He grunted, pushing himself into you.

He was big…bigger than you were expecting and you gasped. You were glad he was holding your hips in place, otherwise you would’ve tipped forward face-first in the chair. He reached an arm around your small waist and found your clit with one of his rough fingers.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not cruel. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.” He cooed, circling around your swollen nub, made slick by your wet cunt.

You moaned, hating yourself for it, but it felt so good. You felt your walls flutter around his girth while he slid into you. His pace was even, strong, and relentless. You whined into the concrete room, feeling nothing but waves of numbness washing over your body. As more tears fell down your cheeks, you damned yourself for making audible sobbing sounds.

“That’s it, cry for me pretty girl, I like the way you sound.” He said in a gruff tone.

“You’re…mm…you’re disgusting.” You said to him once again.

He chuckled, “and yet I make you so fucking wet, what’s that say about you?”

His finger continued teasing your clit while his length was driving into you harshly. He made you feel so full from wall to wall you could hardly stand it. You shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself, you should’ve been screaming, kicking, and fighting, but you weren’t. In fact, you hadn’t even tried to put up a fight. Were you so desperate that you were ok with something like this? Maybe he was right…maybe you were just as disgusting as he was.

“Mm, I can feel your tight little pussy clenching around me…you getting close there sweetheart? You gonna come for me?” He asked, never slowing his rhythm.

“N-never.” You said, which you knew was a downright lie. There was no way you could stop your impending orgasm, it felt too good.

You let out a loud moan into the room, you could hardly contain it anymore no matter how much you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. You were trying so hard to stop yourself, so hard to stop the feeling that pooled in your abdomen at his touch. It was there, building, getting stronger with every thrust of his powerful cock.

“F-fuck I’m gonna…oh…I’m gonna…”

“Do it, come on, just let it out for me.” He urged, circling his fingers faster.

No matter how badly you didn’t want to, your cunt started contracting over his girth while you screamed out in your climax. You felt him too, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his hot ropes of cum. The sound was wet and messy as he kept fucking you even after filling you up. Finally, his movements ceased, and he pulled out of you with a groan.

“There you go…not bad.” He said.

He grabbed his belt off the floor and replaced it around his pants. While he did that, you turned back over and sat in your chair. His cum was seeping out of you, coating your thighs and rear. He sat down in the chair across from you again. Even with the mask, you could tell he was amused.

“Heh, you know, I should kill you, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll just keep you instead.”

AO3 LINK

#deimos #deimos rainbow six siege #deimos x reader #deimos r6s x reader #deimos x you #deimos r6s #rainbow six siege smut #deimos smut #rainbow six fan fic #rainbow six siege fan fiction #rainbow six siege fanfiction #rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege x reader #rainbow six siege x you

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ghostiex0 · 1 year

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Could i request some Thatcher x reader where they're at a bar with the rest of the SAS and Reader asks thatcher to join them in the bathroom where it wnds with thatcher bending the reader over the sink counter and fucking them?

Mike Thatcher x reader smut

First post in a good while lol. Old man Thatchers character is kinda hard, but enjoy! Gender Neutral reader

Warnings: N//SFW below, semi-public sex, no protection (he pulls out). Readers cocky.

“-then the bastard tried to act all smug, the hell else was I supposed to do?” Mike was quick to defend himself.

James had gotten on his case about the reputation he now had in pubs around the area after apparently laying into some ‘bastards’. Hearing about the throw of the pool ball made you cringe. From Mike’s story, it did sound like they deserved it at least. “Could’ve called me up!” Light laughter followed James’s comment. “I don’t blame ya, just think it’s funny.” Maybe he realized how he was getting the older man a little too riled up, backpedaling on his previous statement.

Mike took another swig of his drink, not bothering to give a response. Under the protection of the bar table, your hand slid over to his thigh. His eyes looked down at your hand, then flickered to your face. You had to bite back a little mischievous smile. He let you off the hook for a good few minutes, conversation carrying on around the table. You yourself falling victim to a few bad jokes here and there. After those few minutes though, Mike shifted in his seat, his eyes no longer looking at yours but his body language told you he was all too aware of your hand placement. You wondered if the stiffness in his body was still from his annoyance, or now from how your thumb gently rubbed against his thigh, slightly gravitating towards his crotch.

Your wrist was quickly snatched in his large hand, the tightness not enough to hurt, but enough to tell you to cut it out. Sadly, it only amused you further. His eyes turned to glare at you when even while he gripped your wrist beneath the bar, your fingers angled downwards to rub as much of his thigh as you could reach. It seemed to be enough to set him off.

“We’ll be right back.” Mike announced, suddenly standing up from his stool at the bar, his co-workers seeming stunned at the sudden movement. You didn’t blame them, not as he pulled you out of your seat as well, your heart racing in your chest, your feet barely keeping up as he brought you to the bathroom.

“That was sure bol-“ “Shut it.” The older man cut you off, pushing you into the one person restroom, quickly locking the door behind you both. “You think touching me like that back wouldn’t have any repercussions?” His voice almost as heavy as his steps as he approached you, making you walk backwards until you hit the cold surface of the sink. Your hands grasped behind you, the chill stinging against your hot palms.

Mike was always so easy to rile up. Lightable temper and years of pent up sexual frustration, a perfect target for your needs.

“You even listening to me?”

“Maybe not. But I can tell you’re stressing yourself out more than you need too.” You pointed out bluntly, a small smirk on your face as a sort of flabbergasted look crossed his face. “Let me help you?”

Something inside of him snapped, his lips smashed against yours. The scuff of his facial hair prickling against your skin. With your hot breath mingling he grunted, your lips pulling away from his. Mike’s erection, hard in his jeans, pressed into you, providing your own needy body some sort of relief.

“Turn around.” He was good at commands, you’d give him that. He gave you enough room just to push off of him and shift your body around, your stomach thankfully covered by your top, protecting you from the freezing cold surface of the sink. Your hips were pulled back in a matter of seconds, forcing you to bend down slightly, ass curved up to pressed into Mikes crotch.

“Seems like you want me too, huh?” His words mingled with his heavy breaths, his hands wrapping around your waist. In a second your bare ass was on display for him, his large hands gripping onto your skin, forcing you to arch your back up more.

Your head was foggy, you must have not been able to hear his pants unbuckling with your heavy breathing, but you could clearly hear your own desperate noises as the tip of his cock pushed up against your hole.

“Seems like you’re the one who needs help now, sweetheart.” Thatcher chuckled to himself, purposefully teasing you for a few more seconds. His hands suddenly squeezed your hips tighter before his hips snapped forward, his cock hitting deep inside you.

As his thrusts increased, your legs slowly deteriorated, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to quiet any noises. Though there was nothing you could do about the distinct sound of his skin hitting yours.

The coil in your stomach snapping, a long drawn out noise leaving your lips as his own thrusts got sloppier. “Fuck…” You heard Mike’s strained grumbles, feeling his cock pulse inside you. He slipped out just in time to cum on you, instead of inside.

A good few minutes passed, your upper body still resting against the sink as you finally caught your breath. He had been kind enough to wipe you up without saying anything. His large fingers hooking into your bottoms and sliding them back up on you.

The silence was almost deafening as you finally let your body relax itself, pushing up on the sink to stand up straight. You turned around him, dazed yet still smug.

“Wasn’t that a good stress reliever?”

#r6s #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #thatcher x reader #Mike Thatcher x reader #sas x reader #r6 smut

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rekas-writes · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Claiming

Pair: James “Smoke” Porter/GN! Reader Source: Rainbow Six Siege

Type: One-shot - 1485 words Genre: Non-graphic Smut/18+ Perspective: Second-Person (You/Your)

Summary: Separated from your team during training, you find yourself cornered by the ruthless Smoke. Only, he seems very intrigued by your precarious position stuck between him and a brick wall (Set before his move to Nighthaven!)

TW: Steamy but no actual sex, just a lot of grinding, making out and biting. There’s a few swear words and he lovingly calls you a whore. As always, this is 18+ only!

A/N: I feel like I’ve been neglecting the other categories of my blog so I’ll be doing my best to touch every base haha. I made Smoke kinda mean + I kinda ran rogue with this and forgot the word counter- Enjoy!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Nothing could’ve prepared you for your impending fate when simulated rubble blocked your path. Your breath hitches as you call to your team, reassuring them that you’d make your way back to them somehow. Ash nods an affirmative but there’s a concerned look that crosses your close friend’s face… But there’s not much you can do with the amount of bits and pieces in the way.

Quick and eager to regroup due to your nervousness on your own, you cautiously clear your way through some rooms, prepared to fight at any moment. You end up in a rather quiet area, far from the objective as you try and make your way back to your squad. There’s a certain looseness, feeling confident that most of them were at the firefight; covered in powder and aching from plastic blanks.

Though, it would seem you were rather too loose and didn’t look too closely at one corner as you felt the harness of your uniform get grabbed harshly- knocking you off kilter. The surprise left you open and easy to defend against, and much harder for you to fight back. You stumble and flail, cursing your lack of flashbangs while trying to shove your gun behind you to hit your attacker better than shooting blindly and possibly hitting yourself with the spray. There’s a pained grunt signifying success before you yelp, hand flexing at the twist of your wrist before you hear your weapon clatter uselessly to the ground. You’re spun- back shoved against the unyielding wall and your hands pinned in an iron grip above your reeling head. Determined, you struggle again but nothing gives in enough for you to break free, especially with your entire lower body trapped, making you sigh, ready to announce an embarrassing surrender before you hear a familiar chuckle,

“Nice try, love,” you can hear the smile in a certain chemist’s rough voice as he leans in close, his free hand unmasking himself to help calm you down from your adrenaline- showing himself as a vulnerable friendly rather than a pretend-enemy, “Pay more attention next time. Don’t let your guard down; no matter how quiet it is there could always be someone lurkin',” Smoke chides sternly, “Your real enemy ain't gonna hold you close like this either, and they certainly won’t be as drop-dead handsome,” he breaks into a grin, already dismissing the scolding tone in his naturally husky voice and you roll your eyes, almost so hard they strain.

Though, you are grateful for him taking it slightly easy on you, he could’ve just shot and tagged you out of the round. Plus, it was a good lesson better served here than in real battle. You were so close to being a proper operator, this simulated training match with and against proper, experienced operators being used to provide more realistic combat/ on the field experience as well as acting as a final test of sorts for each recruit on the cusp of being an official Rainbow Six Operator. It was a high honour you wanted more than anything with how much you dedicated to this path.

A large part of you felt so disappointed at being caught out so soon however, even if it was by your boyfriend, but it was soon replaced by a surprised gasp and hiss. He’d bitten your damn neck! James gives you a cheeky smile with a not so innocent tilt of his head, “Sorry,” he really wasn’t sorry. His hands wrapped around your wrists loosen, a quiet way to let you go if you wanted. You stay put, coy as you rub a thigh between his legs- pleased at the noise you pulled from his lips. There’s a glint in the SAS officer's eyes as he holds you firmly, biting again with a slight bit more force in rebuttal, making you whine and squirm in his grasp, “You just look so good in your new uniform, sweetheart,” he purrs lowly, the deep, more seductive tone replacing his playful one making you squirm a little more at the warmth that simmered beneath your skin.

You’d received your very own specialised uniform a few days before the skirmish, and you’d be a fool if you didn’t notice the way Smoke stared at the way you filled out the new gear. It was rather tight in certain areas, leaving little to the imagination, and he’d taken great notice given the way he squeezed your thigh with his free hand- appreciating the raw strength and muscle you’d built over your training, “And with the way you’re pinned and moaning so nicely for me… I don’t think I can resist claiming you,” he almost growls, and you have to stop yourself from so eagerly nodding your head,

“You want that, huh? Make you mine right here, right now? Want the others to hear you be a whore for me during training?” and you’re pleading with the way you grind so adorably against the thigh he so kindly shoved between your legs. His ego is instantly inflated at how needy you were for him already, biting his bottom lip as the edges of his lips turn up into a cruel smirk, “Or do you want me to leave you here? You look desperate enough to let anyone try to satisfy you,” he laughs under his breath at how quickly you shake your head, making barely quiet, little noises of protest- your mind still well aware of the danger of someone walking in, “Ah, ah, use your words, sweetheart,” he tutts with feign-disappointment,

“N-No! Mmn, ah, no, o-only you, p-please... Oh...! Only you c-can,” you cry and plead, rewarded generously with a hard yet sweet kiss and more appreciative squeezes and grabs to your form as you rock back and forth on his thigh. Smoke's hand strokes your inner thigh, so close yet so far from where you wanted him, your needy hips grinding the best you can against the sweet relief he offered so graciously. You don’t have it in you to argue with where his hand is, not when he had taken control of your mouth already- tongue curling expertly against yours. He tilts his head, letting every whine and moan fall into his own experienced lips. When he finally parts, there’s a string still connecting you and your eyes are half-lidded and hazy with desire. You crave more, need more with all your heart and soul. It isn’t enough, but you know you shouldn’t keep going if you want to keep your dignity.

Smoke bites a little harder when his lips trail from your own pair back to your already reddened neck, licking soothingly over the abused flesh. He kisses trail after trail to different spots, sucking and biting at each new patch of heated skin. You swear you almost hear a "mine" muttered under his breath at every angry, red mark. Each feeling of his teeth against your very pulse, of his warm tongue laving against every loving, deliciously sore bruise, of his soft lips against every inch of his canvas made you keen and arch into his embrace- dizzy with growing thirst and need. His insistent, thorough ritual of making sure every visible piece of you was noticeably his made your legs jelly and the throbbing between your legs intense. Yet relief was seldom as you could only sob at the lack of direct friction and touch.

Your mind was fuzzy; positively lost in your own yearning and his grip as the chemist’s hands travelled and grasped every sensitive, erogenous zone of your body- harsh enough to surely form bruises beneath your uniform. Your wrists kept themselves against the wall, unwilling to move and displease your boyfriend as he rewarded you with such pleasurable pain. James pulls back, a proud smile on his lips as he admires his handiwork: Your heaving chest as you panted through swollen lips. Your exposed neck littered with his hickeys with tired, red wrists hanging uselessly above you. Your unfocused, lust-clouded eyes and make-out-ruffled uniform ties the whole masterpiece together for him. His wonderful masterpiece.

You blink, disorientated and breath very much stolen as he simply straightens himself out- a simple brush of his hand fixing up his assault vest that was only slightly askew. The innocent, confused frown on your face at his departure makes him chuckle, smirking,

“I do believe we have a straggler left untagged in this round,” he reminds you of your current training with a wink, granting you a second chance at the fight, before leaning in once more and whispering into your ear, “If I were them, I wouldn’t let myself get caught,” Smoke flashes you a wolfish smile when he faces you fully once more, before clasping his mask back over his flushed face. It almost feels like he’s warning you about himself, more so than his teammates. You attempt to lean up slowly from the wall as you try and recollect your bearings, until you start hearing rogue footsteps nearing you rather quickly. Shit.

You take off with a wobbly sprint, shaky legs and clumsy feet trying to find purchase on the cement as you scramble off. James has to stop himself from laughing at the very awkward dash as he grabs and adjusts his weapon to make it look less like he just let you go. His other hand rests on an obstacle in front of him as he looks in the direction you’d fled, panting softly to feign catching his breath. Thank the gods for his baggy uniform pants, he was unbelievably hard after that.

It didn’t matter. He was going to catch you tonight, no matter where you ran. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six siege x reader #r6s x reader #rainbow six x reader #smoke x reader #x gender neutral reader #r6s smoke x reader #r6s smoke #james porter #reader insert #x gn reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #x trans male reader #smut #nsft #kinktober 2022

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kiruuuuu · 10 months

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Sun's Out, Guns Out - Day 5!🌈

Hi all, this is your quarterly reminder that I'm not dead 😊 As always, @dualrainbow has organised a Pride event and I'm happy to participate! Give them a follow and check out the other entries 💖

Since I tend to resort to my favourites when I can't write what I want to write (motivation, thy name is fickleness), this one features Thatcher and Lesion trying to figure out a few things. Well, mostly Thatcher. Please enjoy!! (Rating G/T, fluff, ~3.3k words)

Mike Baker has always had a knack for teaching. Born from the addicting sensation of being smarter than everyone, he quickly realised there’s actual merit in passing on hard-earned knowledge founded on a mixture of theory and painful experience. It took him a while to suppress the resentment of witnessing others, armed with his wisdom, excel immediately where he had to struggle for much longer, but once he overcame that particular ego trip, he started receiving heartfelt compliments.

And, well, he likes those.

Suddenly, he played a part in many success stories, was cited as a major influence by skilled operators around the world, and shook hands with others whom he admired on equal footing. There are other advantages as well, like broadening his horizon through exchanges with young minds from vastly different cultures, many of which left him befuddled at first yet enriched in the long run. He’s often called old school, a term he wears with pride instead of embarrassment seeing as it stems from his conviction that advanced technology might be useful but ultimately a crutch. He’s opened many eyes to the old ways and no doubt saved countless lives by empowering others to acquire survival skills not reliant on newfangled tech.

This, too, he learnt the hard way. After the disaster in ‘92, he vowed never to allow something like it again.

Amidst the coaching, he endeavours to learn from his students just as they soak up his advice. Not always successful, he still tries to grasp their differing world views and outlooks, attempts to understand how they developed and why his own rarely match. Finding similarities is easy, there’s timeless topics such as cars, sports and physical fitness, and beyond that cyclical trends materialise and disappear over the course of a decade or two – whisky, gardening, woodworking, it all recurs.

But the longer Thatcher pushes his retirement, the more he perceives a rift forming between his generation and the younger ones. Not having any children himself (or any friends who do), he’s reliant on his work relationships to keep him up-to-date, and while there’s no shortage of sensible, eager young men in the SAS as a whole, Rainbow generally features established, well-adjusted operators who need little guidance.

So… maybe it’s the small sample size. In any case, Thatcher is increasingly perplexed when Mute mentions most of his friends don’t even own a car anymore. Or that they have no notion to buy a house and settle down – even Thatcher considers marriage optional, seeing as his own crashed and burned spectacularly, but not wanting to own property? And the absolutely disrespectful way Mute speaks of national treasures like the Queen and Thatcher’s namesake (which, alright, he’s had long discussions about this and maybe she wasn’t the progressive saint he once thought she was, but still – defacing her monument just isn’t funny).

At first he was filled with a giddy sort of glee when the taciturn, serious young Brit opened up to him, heeded his advice and even looked to him first when he was unsure about anything work-related, but the longer they spend conversing about their private lives, the more Thatcher wishes he’d never asked in the first place. He’s fairly sure he will never understand the point of ‘memes’, no matter how often Mute tries to explain.

And one day, a humid, muggy Friday in June, Mute approaches him with a problem for which Thatcher has no answer ready yet. So he does what he always does when he’s unable to process news or make his mind up: ask the one person for help to whom he’d entrust his life without a second thought.

~*~

“Mark thinks he’s gay”, says Thatcher, apropos nothing, as he turns the page from sports to local news. ‘Hotel California’is softly pouring out of the radio next to the toaster – the classic rock station isn’t his favourite but one meaningful glance over Simon & Garfunkel incentivised him to switch to it. He didn’t want to be accused of being a lonely old man again.

Across the table, Lesion visibly smothers his initial reaction, whichever it would’ve been; there’s an unnatural half-blink and an almost imperceptible pause in guiding the ham-topped croissant to his mouth. And Thatcher thinks: here we go.

They haven’t fought in a while. Not for the entire year, actually, if he discounts their usual bickering (and he’s inclined to, it barely counts despite the awkward atmosphere it forces bystanders to endure, which is incidentally Thatcher’s favourite part). He regrets having to sacrifice their harmonious breakfast which, apart from the at-times questionable songs wafting over, is nearly perfect where he’s concerned. Lesion bought fresh muffins for Thatcher and croissants for himself, Thatcher provides good-quality cold cuts, they share a pot of tea and discuss whatever is new either in their lives or the world. It’s idyllic.

Sadly, he’ll have to ruin it – for the greater good.

Could he introduce the topic in a less inflammatory way? Sure. Would it have the same result, i.e. a quietly destructive Lesion who chooses his words so carefully it’s hard to imagine he’s simultaneously holding himself back from throttling Thatcher? Absolutely not. And therefore this is the only option remaining.

Once Lesion has bought himself some time to process Thatcher’s remark by carefully chewing for an inordinately long time, he avoids his gaze and asks, very calm: “Did he drink too much and say a few things he now regrets?”

Deflection. With a joke, at least, Thatcher taught him that – when they first met, Lesion would raise his brows and change the topic when confronted with anything he did not want to comment on. Either he’s attempting to save the mood or his brain is working overtime to figure out how to respond. Good. So he doesn’t know what to think about this either.

“Nah. We both know the lad barely drinks.”

Lesion begins pushing the crumbs on his plate into a neat pile. “He does when James is around.”

And this is why Thatcher chooses him for any difficult topic. Lesion has mastered the art of being unobtrusive and inoffensive to the point where everyone around him either forgets his presence or believes him to be an accomplice of sorts, thus dropping all inhibitions. His skills in information gathering and observation are unparalleled and Thatcher enjoys making use of them, even if it’s for petty purposes.

Well. Especially for petty purposes.

He’s right, of course, he always is: Thatcher retroactively analyses Mute’s behaviour around his colleague and concludes that yes, Mute does indeed let Smoke be a bad influence on him.

“Tell me what happened.”

Somehow, the initial friction has disappeared and though Thatcher would prefer a sharper exchange of words, he plays along for now. “Julien dragged him to a Pride event last week and some bloke there talked Mark into believing he fancies James. He’s not fully sure, though, so he poured his little heart out to me.”

He spots the tell-tale crease between Lesion’s brow. He’s getting pissed – even though Thatcher isn’t entirely certain why. But that’s what he’s here to find out. “I have additional questions”, Lesion states after a moment, “but I think it’s best if you tell me your thought process first.”

“On what?”

“You seem to disagree with him. I’d like to hear why.”

“With whom?”

Lesion refuses to take the bait and get angry over stupid details. His patience is another virtue Thatcher admires greatly. “With Mark’s assessment of himself.”

“That he thinks he’s gay?”

“Yes.” He takes a sip of his tea. “That.”

Alright then. If this was anyone else, Thatcher would refrain from elaborating, wave it off and attribute it to personal differences rather than risk offending or coming across as ignorant. The two of them, however, have known each other for such a long time that no such anxieties remain: they’ve both made idiots of themselves in front of the other, have supported each other through various crises, have become such an important and fundamental part of each others’ lives that he discards any vanities in favour of personal growth.

Most of the time.

Which doesn’t contradict his urge to exasperate his best friend. It’s almost… charming? Endearing? He’s not sure of the correct term, but it does leave a deep, satisfying feeling in the low of his stomach to watch Lesion ruthlessly apply logic to try and change his mind, working himself up to unmerciful gentleness with which he both ensures victory and that Thatcher’s pride isn’t hurt. These days, he rarely allows himself any indulgences, yet Lesion’s cutting rhetoric is too addicting.

He’s not proven wrong often, but with this man, he almost enjoys it.

“We’ve talked about it before”, he starts, Lesion keeping up eye contact now as he finishes the other half of his croissant, “being gay isn’t a choice.”

An encouraging nod. So far, so good.

“Either you’re born gay or you’re not.”

The nodding fades. Surely, he can’t object this early.

“So either you know that you’re gay, or you don’t know, which means you’re not. And yeah, there’s the bisexuals and whatever, but they know who they are as well. Mark on the other hand said he never really had any interest in anyone until now – but if he was gay, that wouldn’t have happened.” He probably should stop talking. Lesion is looking at him, mid-chew, the same way he did when Thatcher ranted about poor people always buying poor quality products even though purchasing slightly more expensive, higher-quality ones would last much longer.

Which, alright. He conceded the point eventually.

Another sip of tea after the croissant has disappeared. Lesion adds more crumbs to his pile. “Is it too late then?”, he asks, curious. “For him to realise he fancies men.”

“Huh? No.” Ridiculous. As if there was some kind of cut-off point where lads had to live as heteros because they didn’t claim their gayness fast enough. “No, what I mean is… he’s just not gay. He’s found a kindred spirit in James, somehow, and I predict he’s going to turn into an annoying little gremlin under his supervision, but he’s confusing a serious, close friendship with, I don’t know, attraction? Romance?” The more he scrutinises it in his head, the more sense it makes. “Yeah. He never fancied anyone before. How would he know what it feels like? I have the impression he just never had a friendship like that before.”

Actually, this is obvious – he’s almost embarrassed he couldn’t come up with the same explanation when Mark sought him out. No wonder the poor lad is a little lost, a shithead like Smoke will do that to an innocent soul.

Lesion is starting to shift now, sharpen around the edges, weighs his words more deliberately before he allows them to escape his lips. It’s reminiscent of how he is on the job, competent, no-nonsense. He might crack jokes and wear a smile but Thatcher’s gaze penetrates the thin veneer of jovial gestures to reveal remorseless efficiency. And though he respects that part of Lesion deeply, he also savours how pliable, how… domestic they are around each other. Lesion has saved his life more than once, and he’s helped remodel Thatcher’s bathroom. He asked Thatcher to test drive a used car he considered buying, and he’s killed with a smile and a shrug.

If he’s honest, Thatcher prefers his softer side. There’s something peaceful in sitting in his garden and trying to spot birds, even if they’ve had to wash blood off their bodies more times than they care to count.

“How did he come to the conclusion that he likes James?” Gathering more necessary intel. Thatcher suppresses a grin.

“I can’t recall his exact words, it was surprisingly flowery. Maybe he dreamt about kissing him, felt like he was having butterflies in his stomach whenever James texted him, something along those lines. Typical shite, you know. But I mean, that’s normal.”

Lesion’s eyes snap up.

Oh? He’s picked up on something though Thatcher wouldn’t know what exactly. They’re still dancing around the issue, Lesion hasn’t formulated his point yet so it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. It’s no fight yet.

“Normal stuff”, Lesion repeats and it sounds very close to a question. He must know what Thatcher means.

“Aye. Everyone has these kinds of thoughts, even if there’s some kind of stigma on it since blokes barely talk about it. It’s curiosity, nothing more, the brain latches on to something and you can’t get it out of your head for a while. Like buying a new car, innit? A mate gets himself a brand new ride and suddenly, you want one too. It’s almost impossible to push that thought away.”

“… a new car.” It seems Lesion has resorted to parroting bits and pieces of Thatcher’s speech. Again, with anybody else, he’d be upset that he’s opening up about a topic rarely discussed between men and met with hesitant mockery, but this is Lesion. His best friend would rather jump out the window than hurt him deliberately.

“Not the best metaphor maybe, but you get the gist. He’ll just have to pull himself together and realise it’s perfectly normal to have these kinds of, I don’t know, intrusive thoughts, and move on.”

Lesion’s face evokes the image of an exhausted mum debating internally whether she should let her child eat the crayons just so she can have a bit of peace and quiet. He’s still not contributing to their conversation which is frankly worrisome – not that Thatcher is apprehensive about what might be going on in his head, but he knows the longer he talks the worse it gets. The two of them have a code word for ‘you should probably shut up now’ and there’s a reason Lesion is the only one who uses it regularly.

“Do you not agree? Just because you think like this doesn’t mean you’re queer. Hell, most of the blokes on this earth would’ve ended up married to another bloke if they followed that line of thinking. The two of us might as well have married.”

This shakes Lesion out of his stupor. “Might as well”, he repeats, sounding oddly entertained. It seems he’s about to add something but decides against it, shaking his head a little before he takes a deep breath and gets up to pour himself another cuppa. Buying more time. This is getting serious. “Want the rest?”

Thatcher hands him his Arsenal mug, mulling over the phrase which seems to have sparked amusement in his best friend. There’s worse fates in the world than being tied to this man, he supposes – they get along better than any married couple he knows. Most days, their schedules are intertwined, they give and take in equal measure and have found compromises for all their differences in taste. “Might as well”, Thatcher mutters without meaning to and accepts the tea-filled mug with an added ‘ta’.

Instead of sitting back down, Lesion leans against the counter, fingers wrapped around the Winnie the Pooh mug he used to pick as a joke (and now defends from other guests), steady gaze resting on Thatcher without the hint of reproach. There’s a warmth in it he’s accustomed to seeing when it’s late and they drank a little too much. Quiet anxiousness rises in Thatcher; he can deal with exasperation but doesn’t do well with vulnerable sincerity.

“You’ve not talked about this with anybody else, I assume?”, Lesion asks.

“Of course not. If they’re all too embarrassed to say it out loud, I’m not gonna be the first one.”

An eternity passes while Lesion stands there, eyes drifting aimlessly around the cosy kitchen, and contemplates how to reply. Thatcher’s uneasiness increases with every passing second yet he knows better than to interrupt the other man’s thoughts. Despite his growing desperation to interrupt his own.

He has a feeling he won’t like what he’ll hear next.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘normal’”, Lesion starts hesitantly. “I do believe it’s not unusual to be curious in one’s younger years, but… dreaming about kissing your mates when you’re in your fifties is, um.”

Thatcher’s cheeks begin to heat up. He hopes he hasn’t committed a grave mistake. “Oh come off it – don’t tell me you don’t think about those things.”

“Ah…” The corners of Lesion’s mouth lift into a sheepish smile. “I do.”

“See!”

“But, Mike. I’m gay.”

Uh.

Thatcher’s brain screeches to a halt. “What”, he says and can’t keep the hint of anger out of his voice. Strangely, he feels betrayed rather than surprised, and it’s a tad odd to realise he’s genuinely upset over the fact Lesion never told him. He cares not one bit about his sexuality, Lesion can do whatever he wants, but Thatcher needs to be in on it. Still, it helps to distract him from the fact that Lesion’s earlier words open up an entirely different can of worms.

Which is that apparently Thatcher’s mind has significant overlap with that of a gay man, at least where other men are concerned, and he is not prepared to face this particular revelation just yet.

Maybe I should’ve married him, he thinks and suppresses the sudden, absurd urge to laugh.

“Do you want to talk about this?”, Lesion offers, still smiling, and it’s eerie how well he knows him – when conflicted, Thatcher tends to withdraw unless assisted, yet is too prideful to ask.

He appreciates the suggestion but appearances force him to weakly object: “Don’t you have errands to run today?”

Lesion shrugs. “They can wait. I’d rather make sure you don’t end up brooding the whole weekend.”

A fair assessment. Thatcher nods and is flooded with relief over having someone in his life so willing to talk about everything and nothing, except… Suddenly, there’s something else besides gratitude as well.

~*~

“… so, in conclusion, it doesn’t matter what you identify as. Just do what you feel is right, use your common sense – and I know you have a lot of that. If you feel an attraction, there’s nothing wrong with pursuing it without worrying about labels for the moment. Alright, lad?”

Mute stares at him in much the same way Thatcher’s family did on their last reunion when he asked for extra vegetables. He adds a mental note to teach Mute how to control his expressions better and keep his composure even when confronted with the unimaginable.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just -” The lad blinks a few times before starting to nod. “I mean, yeah. Thanks. That’s actually really helpful. I was worried about some of it, but what you said just… some things clicked.”

Boy does Thatcher know how that feels. “Don’t mention it. You got your head on straight, lad, keep it that way.” He realises too late and hastens to correct himself: “I don’t mean – well, you know what I mean.”

His awkward floundering earns him a grin he much prefers over the troubled look which has recently dominated the young man’s features. “Yeah. No worries.”

“Good man.” Thatcher pats his back and gets up, relieved their talk went smoothly and confident he’ll be able to manoeuvre similar conversations in the future. Which is a relief, because based on Mute’s memes, the entire younger generation is some kind of queer or other and he’s had his suspicions about Dokkaebi for a while.

“Just one question though.”

He turns to Mute, expecting anything from mundane to profound and certain he will be able to advise. After all, it’s his job to guide and teach wherever he can.

The lad points to Thatcher’s neck. “… is that a hickey?”

Alright.

Well.

Time to make up an excuse and get the fuck out of here.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #oneshot #thatcher #lesion #smoke #mute #thatcher/lesion #smoke/mute #event #I either want to write 100% smut or 100k fics and there's no in between #so please accept this as an offering instead #inspired by comments about people who are ACTUALLY like thatcher and everyone hopes they figure it out eventually #lesion is starting to give me big kim kitsuragi vibes

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burnedwriter · 1 year

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Updated fandom list!!

Resident evil

Genshin impact

Call of duty

Rainbow six siege

More will be added!

This is an updated list of the fandoms i will write for to clear any confusions

The rules are under the #asks

A/n:i will try my best to keep up with the requests since i will be busy with

College

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #rainbow 6 siege x reader #r6 x reader #r6s x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #rainbow six siege x reader #call of duty #genshim impact #genshin smut

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kryptonian-puppy · 1 year

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Keep The Wolves Away (Rewrite) has been updated with not one, but two chapters, in honour of the pieces of shit who suffer from loseritis and can’t read 😔 Get well soon bitches

#rainbow six siege #rainbow six #lmao #r6s #keep the wolves away #you know I’m #something of a shithead myself #enjoy the deep dive into crows broke ass brain and some smut as a treat #also #why when I search for rainbow six gifs nothing shows up???#I gotta make my own from my clips #and I only have a few good ones #the rest are me getting shit on

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r6shippingdelivery · 2 years

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WIP day

Tagged by @rejected-beater, thank you! 💜

Working VERY SLOWLY on a couple things. so you get two teasers:

Last chapter of Chemical Delirium

Mira took a long gulp of her drink before asking, "So! How was your meeting with Six?"

"Same as always, short." Ash shrugged, leaving the bag of snacks on the table. "Did Sam give y'all a hard time?"

It was cute how she picked up some of Thermite's mannerisms. Mira knew they were close, so it made sense, but it was still shocking to hear miss formal & professional use y'all. She sat on the corner of the table, taking care to not crush or kick out of the way anything important.

"You know how he is," Mira said. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, and the flat wood pressed against her pussy lips, making her gasp. Good lord, what was wrong with her?

Ash nodded in agreement, absentmindedly patting her leg before she started telling Mira about the plans Six was already making for the next Invitational. Yet Mira couldn't concentrate on it. The brief contact of Ash's hand on her left a searing imprint in her mind. She didn't even have to concentrate much to feel a tingling on his skin, right on the same spot Ash touched, which felt oddly nice. Imagining how that would have felt just slightly higher, on her inner thigh, made Mira so wet that she was sure her panties were drenched.

WIP for the language event at DualRainbow

El ambiente en su pequeña cabina compartida era gélido, y sus movimientos eran bruscos, como si apenas pudiera contener su enojo. Glaz hacía esfuerzos para ignorarlo, mientras se preparaba para ir a la cama. Sus doloridas costillas protestaron el intento de quitarse la camiseta, por muy holgada y cómoda de poner y quitar que fuese. Al final desistió con un gruñido y decidió tragarse el orgullo.

— Necesito ayuda para quitarme esto, — Glaz admitió, irritado por tener que depender de otra persona para algo tan nimio.

Al igual que había sucedido a lo largo del día, Fuze ya estaba a su lado, esperando solícito. Y, al igual que el resto del día, su expresión era de clara desaprobación mientras le asistía. Lo más curioso era que, a pesar de su evidente enojo, Fuze se había pegado a él como una sombra, tratándolo casi como si fuese inválido. Glaz suspiró, harto de esas miradas y largos e incómodos silencios. Le dolía todo el cuerpo y no estaba de humor para tonterías

— Si tienes algo que decir, dilo, en lugar de poner cara de estar chupando limones cada vez que me miras.

Tagging time! @sugarbeandude @grain-crain-drain @dagoth-menthol @simonxriley @an-2809 @love-change-machines and anyone else who has a WIP and wants to share a teaser!

#rainbow six siege #r6s #rainbow 6 siege #why is writing f/f smut so hard ;-;#I always fumble so much with words when I try to get it going #also sorry for the spanish stuff #you'll get a translation once the story is done and posted :P

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darlingdarkly · 23 days

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Fates Worse Than Death part 3

Deimos x f!reader noncon Enemies to Lovers

5.6k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements, electrocution (non sexual), bondage, unprotected climactic pnv intercourse, threats of forced impreg, breeding kink

Part: 1, 2, 4

It was early when he left, Reveille hadn’t even blared its siren song to give rise to the base and its inhabitants. It was almost dreamlike in the way he came to you, soft and sweet in pulling you from the depths of your slumber. He left your mask on and you were grateful for it, without your sight it was easier to let the roles slip, just take it as it presented itself without the clouded lenses of your predicament.

So when he leaned down and lightly shook you awake you came up gently as the cot dipped to accommodate his weight. “I’m going, sugarcane.” You groaned and when you spoke, voice sleep strained and groggy and he saw your arms strain against the straps as you attempted to lift up and touch him made him wish to call the whole thing off, who gave a shit about meetings when he could just undo your straps, pick you up bridal style and carry you over to his bed where you belonged, lay in bed all day and make love to you over and over and over.

But it’s easy to forget the kitten has claws when she’s like this, it’d do not to forget she’s not as docile as she presents. “What time is it?�� His fingers trail up your arm, the gloved pads of his digits swirling nonsensical patterns on your warm skin. “Early. 4:30. You can go back to sleep, I’ve arranged for someone to come in and help you out of your restraints and feed you, you’ll be staying up here until I return. I’ve got a surprise lined up for you later today.” He stops speaking and you feel one glove come up and smooth your hair, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the errant strands on your forehead.

“Be good for me.” You almost wish you could be but you won’t and deep down you both know you have to play the game so he says it and he means it but it doesn’t mean he believes you when you say you will. He spends a few more fleeting moments lingering in this early morning light, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your temple, one that cut through all the bullshit and made its way to the core. It was a message, a last plea, stay, be good, I know this is fucked but it could work couldn’t it? We both feel this, behind the roles and twisted implications, who gives a fuck how it started?

Then he was gone and you drifted off until Reveille woke up an entirely different woman than Deimos had kissed on his way out the door. A few minutes later someone entered the room and pulled the mask from your eyes. It was short and stocky and he looked as pissed off to see you as you were to see him. Obviously though, Deimos had had some sort of chat with him about his manners because he was on his best behavior as he carefully undid your straps.

It wasn’t time yet so you stayed compliant, sitting up on the cot and waiting for him to back away before standing and heading for the bathroom. He didn’t watch you like Deimos had as you showered but he was right outside of the door and frisked you a bit too thoroughly as you stepped out, dressed and ready for the day.

He left the room and you alone in it as he went to get breakfast for you. It was the first time you really got a good look at your surroundings. The room was double big, like it was really two rooms where the wall separating them had been knocked down. The walls were papered in deep red scroll and his bed took up the center of his section of the room. There wasn’t much else to speak of, a few dressers and a wardrobe against the far wall, a desk with a few pens in a cup on its mahogany surface. Your section of the room was even barer, just your cot and four empty walls, though they were also papered in dark red scroll.

It wasn’t long before short and stocky came back, tray in hand as he plopped it unceremoniously on the desk in Deimos’s section of the room, it didn’t topple over but the contents spilled out of their sections into each other and the juice you were meant to drink knocked over and spilled out over the wood. He looked you dead in the eye before turning and leaving.

You were glad for the way things turned out later on. You stood from the cot and made your way over to the desk, while the juice was off the table (more like all over the table) the food was still edible and after retrieving a towel from the cabinet in the bathroom and cleaning up his mess, you ate everything eagerly, you’d need every bit of it to escape. When you’d finished you knocked on the door and he came back to retrieve the tray.

“Good, you cleaned up your mess. Good to know he’s teaching you something useful other than how to take his cock.” You don’t even bother with a response, let it sink into your skin, you’ll get your licks back and they’ll be far more rewarding as actions rather than words. He isn’t quite done yet though.

“What? Nothing to say? You’re no spitfire. Whatever he sees in you is bullshit and he’ll know it soon and when he does I hope he lets me pull the trigger on you. I wanna watch the life drain from your eyes as I’m the last thing you see.” That seems to satisfy him and he leaves believing he’s the one on the high note. That's fine, let him. The morning passes slow and you try to retrace the plan in your brain, check it once, twice, three times for flaws. There is no alternative, no plan B. If this didn’t pan out your way, if anything went wrong, your goose was cooked.

It wasn’t until after lunch that you decided Deimos was probably far enough away that if something went awry it would at least take him some time to get back, enough time for you to get far enough away to have a chance at disappearing. You could link back up with rainbow after you’d meshed into the closest population dense city. Short and stocky had just left with your empty lunch tray as you bent down and pulled your paper clip free from its shoe home and unbent it to turn it into a shabby but functional lock pick. The outer doors of the facility were far too heavy duty for your little makeshift tool, but the door out of this room was all you needed unlocked for your escape.

You got up off the bed and walked to the solid wooden door, pressing your ear up against it to hear any activity on the other side. It was silent and still as far as you could tell so you bent down and set to work, carefully raking the paper clip around inside the lock mechanism to try and jostle the tumblers. It was a slow, tedious process but after a few minutes work the lock clicked and the knob turned freely.

You stepped cautiously out of the doorway and out into the hall. Short and stocky stood at the top of the stairs with his back to you, this was your chance. You strode forward with careful purpose, trying to stay as quiet as possible while moving as quickly as you could, if he saw you now it’d be a fight and one you’d probably lose.

He started to turn and you took the last few strides in a run, the element of surprise nearly lost as you pushed him with all your body weight and watched almost in slow-mo as he careened over the edge of the stairs, arms pinwheeling to prevent his fall but it was no use.

His side made first contact with the concrete stairs, producing four audible, gut wrenching cracks that seared white hot pain up his spine and knocked the air from his lungs. He continued to tumble, rolling over once, twice, and landing awkwardly on his right forearm at an acute angle. It’s there he heard another pop as his arm took the brunt of the fall and he landed in an agitated heap, screaming mad and hell bent on killing you when he got to his feet.

But before he could you were on him, the last thing he saw was your fist coming down on his temple, ironically knocking him out the very same way he’d threatened on the night of your capture and then all went dark.

You had to act quickly now, it was possible someone could have heard the commotion or would come up here for anything at any time so you stepped over him and raced down the last three flights of stairs and carefully made your way across the sky deck, head once again bent between your knees.

Entering the main building you had to act quickly, it was imperative that you avoided being seen until you changed, you were the only person on base wearing a skin tight jumpsuit and everyone would know you’d escaped upon first glance. Ducking into a particular side room you’d eyed the last time you’d made this trek with Deimos, you found what you were looking for.

It was an old supply room, dusty and mostly unused it was full of stores of toilet paper and cleaning supplies, a stack of desks, a few empty filing cabinets and what you came here for. In a box on the floor, a sight you gazed upon by chance after a soldier stepped in for a rack of toilet paper as you were passing by and stored away for this particular moment, was a pile of old uniforms. They were musty and it took you three separate sets to find ones that weren’t either covered in mildew or faded and the ones you finally settled on were about two sizes too big but they’d do.

You slipped them on over your clothes, you couldn’t risk another soldier dipping in for toilet paper and wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid either short and stocky waking up or someone coming across him. This was a mistake you came to regret later, but hindsight is always 20/20.

You strode out of the supply closet in no rush, a patrol cap pulled down low over your eyes as you casually but briskly made your way towards the doors of the facility. You depressed the bar on one of the heavy metal doors and pushed out into the warm air. You surveyed the outer compound with scrutiny and found everyone tucked into tight groups, no lone wolves, which meant if you were going to get out of here without being singled out immediately you had to blend.

You spotted a set of soldiers by the gate, rifles in hand and more than likely headed for the gun range you’d heard but never had seen. You walked out with purpose and snagged two empty ammo cans from a stack by the wall and stuck yourself in the group, making sure to linger around the back so as not to draw too much unwanted attention.

The platoon leader called attention and you snapped to, the action just as much instinct as it was disguise. When he calls forward march you begin to move, keeping pace with the group and keeping your head down. You pass under the gate with the weight of nervous anticipation balancing precariously on your shoulders, expecting at any moment the call to halt from above but it never came and you marched out past it and onto a trail through the woods without hiccup.

When the gates were too far back and concealed by foliage to see you dropped off from the group, simply sliding behind a tree until their footfalls became too distant to hear. You left the ammo cans behind and sprinted out into the trees. From what you could remember there was nothing for miles around, just endless forest but you knew there was a little town about twenty miles south and if you could keep up a relative jog you could make it there just after nightfall.

You took a few glances back to make sure you weren’t being trailed but all you could see was empty forest. Your heart pounded with excitement but you knew better than to let it get the better of you, there was still much danger ahead and endless-

Your muscles locked up violently, legs stopping mid step and freezing as white hot pain zapped down your neck, coursing through your spine and consuming you from within. You called out involuntarily, a guttural pained scream that started and seemed to never end until all your breath was expelled and it died out in a hoarse croak. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand, couldn’t move and you heard the wail of a siren sound back in the direction of the base.

You stretched an arm out in the direction of safety, willing your body to crawl towards it with the last of your might, but it stayed put in stubborn defiance. The sight of the pines swaying in the wind, their dark green needles seeming to reach out for you was the last thing you saw before darkness stole over you.

When you wake it’s like waking in a dream, a dream you've dreamt before, fundamentally the same but different slightly. The pain is back, though then it was head driven, a throb radiating almost solely from your cranium but this is different. This feels like static but everywhere. Your nerves are shot to shit, jittery and fried, your fingers and toes tingle and there’s a metallic taste in your mouth.

You try to take in your surroundings when the feeling finally subsides a bit, fading out from forefront surround sound until it’s just background noise at best, though it still roars in and out of focus. It’s the same room you’d woken up in the night you were captured, only this time instead of tied kneeling to a padded platform you’re tied to a table, face up and completely naked, arms hoisted up past your head and secured to the northern legs of the table. Your body is stretched out across the top, eyes up skyward looking at the dingy ceiling. Your legs are spread, each tied to a seperate southern table leg to keep them that way, your ass is pulled to the edge of the table and as you crane your head south you can see him watching you from between your spread legs.

It was you who broke the silence first. “We can’t keep meeting like this.” He comes up and stands between your legs and he makes it obvious by the crane of his head that his eyes are trailing up every inch of your body, taking in the sights and landmarks along the path to your eyes before he even speaks.

“Cute. You think now's the time for jokes, eh?” You try to not think about what comes next. You’re naked, which means you’re probably not going to die just yet but it doesn’t mean he won't cut you down at any time past this point, maybe he was just waiting for you to be awake. Your only solace is that short and stocky won’t get to pull the trigger on you, you made sure of that.

“Just couldn’t be good for me, could you?” You flinch as his hand glides up your thighs to palm your hip, the padding gripping the flesh rather roughly. “What did you expect?” And he can’t help but feel pride under all the disappointment because you’re still cocky and fierce as all hell even tied to a table and completely at his mercy, and there’s something in that that makes his combat pants just a bit too snug for his liking.

“Not for you to put Vasquez in the infirmary with four cracked ribs and a fractured ulna.” You scoffed. “If I disappointed you then I’m soooo sorry but one thing I’m not sorry for is anything that happened to that fucking asshole, he got what he deserved and you’re lucky he’s in the hospital and not the morgue.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me. You’re already in deep fucking shit.” And his use of curse words make you flinch, you can only recall a handful of times he’d cursed and never had he done it in anger but it doesn’t change anything. If he was pissed off then good, so were you.

“The shock collar was a low blow. Kinda barbaric don’t you think?”

“Worked though, didn’t it? I knew you’d run eventually. It’s ok, I’m not mad. It’s only in your nature.” The way he says it piques something in the back of your mind but he glosses right over it, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

“It did cut my meeting short but that really could have been an email anyway. But you know terrorist organizations, always wary of the digital footprint. You’re not off the hook though. Violent outbursts, escape attempts, lies. Ohh you’ve got a lot to atone for.” He gave your hip a painful squeeze but you held your tongue against the groan it threatened to elicit. When he stopped you felt it safe to speak.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He moves away from you and somehow feel less secure with him wandering about the room than if he’d stood put beside you. You vaguely hear the shuffle of papers and your heart stops when you hear him call out your full name.

“Standard checkups, vaccination records, routine physicals, psych evals, two hospitalizations, one for an apparent appendectomy the other outpatient surgery for the removal of shrapnel from your abdomen and left thigh.” You tensed as he read you your medical file and your breath hitched as he called out the last procedure on the list.

“Ahhh and last but not least an IUD procedure completed just two months ago.” You started to get angry, the familiar heat of it almost comforting. Almost.

“You scalped my file?!”

“You’re not the only one with friends in low places, sweetheart.”

You considered it momentarily but was still unsure what it changed or why it mattered. “So what? It’s not a pill, I didn’t lie to you I just withheld some truth, what the fucks it matter?”

“So what is you didnt fucking tell me.” And there was the cursing again and this time it was punctuated with a loud bang as he drove his fist into the metal table your file had been resting on. You’re unsure why he’s angry, could he really believe you had some kind of rapport? It seemed like he did, and maybe that’s when it all snaps into place for you, this isn’t some elaborate psychological tactic, it’s not a ruse. He genuinely is keeping you just to have you for himself and it's then you realize you won’t die, there’s never been any danger of death. He’s not keeping you out of spite, you can’t annoy him enough to end you. It doesn’t matter how many times you run away he will drag you back to heel like some kind of wild dog because he’s just insane enough to try and tame you.

“So now.. I have to figure out what to do with you.” He walks back towards you and you can feel his eyes on you, making your skin erupt with gooseflesh, he walks up the side of the table and brushes the side of your face with the palm of his hand, lightly cupping it. You stare up into the obsidian lenses of his mask, unsure how to act. You can’t see his eyes but just know somehow past those black panes he’s staring down at you so tenderly and the weight of that fact sits uncomfortably on your chest.

After a moment he speaks again. “Since you’re so desperate for release, you’ll get none. I need you to understand your actions have consequences and I will see to it personally that you learn.”

After a moment you understand he means to fuck you again and shortly after that the innuendo dawns on you as well and you just laugh. “What the fuck makes you think I’ll do anything you say?”

“You want incentive? How about if you’re good and you take your punishment like a good girl, I’ll see to it that you get some training, opportunities to stretch your legs a bit? Obviously you’re restless, pent up animalistic tendencies, I can understand that. If you’re good, I’ll make it happen.”

The fucking audacity of him to think you’ll accept treats for parlor tricks. Like some kind of dog you’ll just roll over for belly pats. “Screw you! You bastard! Let me fucking go!”

And then his hand goes from stroking your cheek to gripping it, the thumb digging into the soft flesh of your cheek while the rest of his fingers line your jaw, pursing your lips together and preventing any more lip.

“Not enough for ya? You wanna act like a brat? Fine. How about this? Either you do as I say or I’ll take you down to the infirmary. The IUD procedure is simple enough and so is the removal.”

Your eyes widen and even through the grip he’s got on your maw you threaten him, eyes burning up at him like hot coals. He can feel the heat. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Ohh, I think you’d be surprised at the things I’d dare. If I feel you so much as twitch around my cock I’ll have them take it out and then we’ll see about starting our own little family together, huh? I’ve always wanted to be a dad but have just never found the time to get around to it, better late than never though, right? I mean, surely you’re confident enough in your fertility to justify the need for protection, I’m sure you’ll make a fine mother. Whaddaya say, sugarcane? How’s your maternal instincts?”

You struggle in the bonds and slip out of his grip, pulling viciously at the ropes but they just cut harder into your skin, the harsh woven fibers biting voraciously into your flesh. “No! Don’t you fucking dare!”

He regains purchase, this time around your throat and he can feel your pulse beating wildly, even through his glove. “Then do as I say.”

You stop struggling, for one because the ropes feel like they’re starting to draw blood and two because he’s let you go in favor of drawing down towards the southern end of the table. Fingers tracing lightly down your side and then back up the other until his fingers skim along the soft length of your inner thighs and you’re left hanging in anticipation as he spreads your thighs further apart to slot himself between them as they travel higher and higher.

The pads of his fingers find your clit and press ever so slightly over the bundle of nerves, drawing lazy circles over it and you can’t help the tensing of your muscles, the way your eyes squeeze shut as you fight the sensation. He plays with it, unrelenting until your arousal starts to well up around the edges of your slit, his fingers drawing down to gather it and spread it generously around.

You inhale sharply as your nipples pebble, hard and aching to be touched. He notices and brings the hand not driving you slowly into madness up to pinch one and roll it between his index and thumb. Your back arches and his fingers leave your breast to encircle your neck, squeezing the sides lightly to capture your attention.

When your eyes fall on him he speaks, and you can hear the apparent arousal in the gravel of his voice, hear the way his eagerness bleeds through, pining to have you again. “Show me you can practice restraint. Show me your self discipline. Don't disappoint me, soldier.”

His fingers push into you slightly for the first time and the edges of your vision blur as your mouth falls open at the dubiously welcomed intrusion. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were locked on yours watching your reactions with careful scrutiny. “Be good for me.”

He pulls out just as fast as he’d pushed in and then he’s gone for a moment, you hear him easing out of his tac pants just enough to pull his cock free and you close your eyes, willing your mind to relax and resist. But when he nudges up to you with the head of his cock, flicking it through the part of your sex and coating it in your slick heat you wonder just how much resolve you have in you.

He leans down over you as he pushes into you in one fluid thrust and you moan with him, unable to stifle it, the sweet ache intoxicating. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust or catch your breath, just uses you with little to no care for how you fare it. His thrusts even out into a steady rhythm as his hands find purchase on the table you’re tied to and something about feeling him thrust up into you without any other contact, the push and pull of his cock without the feel of his hands on you has your eyes rolling back in your head until you have to squeeze them shut to try and regain the reins of your sanity.

You try and weather the storm, really try to focus on anything other than the devastating drive of his hips but it’s almost impossible. And then you feel his thumb over your clit again and your eyes fly open as the sensation makes you clench around him involuntarily, your arms pull at the ropes, desperate to push his hands away because if he keeps it up you’re not gonna make it.

And then he starts to speak. “You did this to us. Could’ve come back and taken my time with you, could’ve been good and I’d have spent all night just like this, fucked you good and raw til you screamed my name but you had to try. Had to test my patience.”

You try and block out the words, shake your head back and forth to try and not hear him but you can’t and it just adds fuel to the flame and he notices but doesn’t relent. He can tell by the shake of your thighs and the way you’re digging your nails into the palms of your own hands that you’re struggling to cope. He picks up speed a bit and your mouth drops open, prompting a sweet low moan to escape and he wishes he’d blindfolded you before he started because all he wants to do is drink up every single sound before it has a chance to leave your throat, swallow them down to keep them all to himself.

You’re gripping him so sweetly, the clutch of your pussy unlike anything he’d felt in a long, long time and he’d be damned if he’d give you up now. There’s not a thing on this planet that could separate the two of you, not even you. He’d love to see you try, really truly try to keep him from you. He’d never stop, never stop clawing his way back into your life no matter how hard you ran. He’d always find you, in this life and the next.

He can feel it too, the effect he’s having on you. He can feel it in the way your pussy clenches around him, can hear it in your back talk and banter, he knows you’re doomed, even if you don’t and he’s gonna enjoy every second of your downfall, every little slip of your grasp of sanity and reality until the only thing left is him.

His thrusts get particularly heavy, hips punctuating his point as he growls down from above you. “You will be mine.” You’ve lost, you know it. You try and fight it but he’s hitting it so good, cock dragging over that spot that makes your toes curl, there’s no escape and no relief and he knows just what he’s doing. Can feel your ruination coming to fruition and you’re so fucked.

You want to beg, beg him for forgviness, beg him for mercy but you can’t, it’ll just fall on deaf ears and something about it is just too compromising for your pride. Why should you let him know he’s getting to you? Why should you have to kneel at his feet? You’re supposed to be a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, an oddity among women and men for that matter but you’re so fucking close and he knows it and it’s killing you.

“Is it hard, sugarcane? Bet you’re so fucking close. Bet you wanna come for me don’t you?” And he leans in close, pelvis grinding down against you as he keeps up your ruination. His tall frame dwarfs yours and you sigh in relief as his hand finally ceases its assault on your clit to come up and seat itself against the back of your neck, pulling your head up and drawing your forehead against his as his other hand abandons the table for a grip on your hip, pulling you down against him as he thrusts up into you, making the sensation just that much more unbearable, making you cry out just that much louder. He dips down to whisper close against your lips, like he’s about to impart some great secret and he doesn’t want to risk allowing the rest of the room to hear it, empty or not, the shell of his mask so, so close.

“Do it. Let me make you mine in the most ultimate of ways. I’ll take such good care of you and the baby, I swear. Come for me and we’ll start all over.”

You’re quite nearly delirious, holding onto the last of your resolve with bloody fingers. It takes everything in you not to come around his cock, the way it fills you completely, hot and hard is going to be the death of you, or rather the birth of a new you but you can’t. You can’t bare this monsters offspring, he’s a goddamn terrorist for fucks sake and so you hold off until you feel you’re ripping apart at the seams.

You want to succeed but it’s slipping and you’d almost given in to the defeat when he finally comes, you feel it, thick and heavy in you and by god’s mercy he stills and you sob with relief. Chest heaving as your pussy spasms in protest around him. Sweat and tears streak your face as you let out shaky breaths to try and regain your composure. He pulls out and rubs his hands up your body, starting at your hips and gliding up your sides until he’s working at the knot holding your hands above your head.

You feel the ropes loosen but are too overwhelmed to do more than shift them down a bit to alleviate the ache in your shoulders. He says nothing as he comes around the side of the table and scoops you up off of it, pulling you into his chest and cradling you close. You can’t fight him, don’t have the strength so you just rest your head against him and let him carry you all the way out the door.

You shift to get comfortable in his arms as he makes two lefts, and then a right. Closing your eyes and breathing deeply as he climbs two flights of stairs and crosses the sky deck. Burying your head in his chest while he mounts the last four flights before you feel him gently deposit you onto a surface far too comfortable to be the cot.

Only then do you look up at your surroundings. “Bet you didn’t even stay long enough to see my surprise, did you?” His surprise is a queen sized bed, since you’ve been gone it’s been brought in, assembled and made. While it’s nothing fancy, having been carefully checked over with a fine toothed comb for anything that could aid you in another escape attempt, it was very lavish for someone being held prisoner, though you know he doesn’t exactly see you as that even if you still do.

There’s an awkward moment where neither of you knows quite what to say, for some bizarre reason you can’t explain there’s an apology waiting on the tip of your tongue. You won’t say it but it doesn’t mean it’s not there. He reaches up past your head to the metal headboard and pulls down a new set of restraints, they’re long and give you a bit of range as to how much you can move but they’re still restraints.

After you put on another white tee from the seemingly endless supply he has for you, he takes your hands and silently puts on the leather cuffs, securing them. His touch lingers on your wrists even after he’s finished and you feel like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t, just pulls your mask from its place and pulls it down over your eyes. You lie back and get comfortable as he moves away from the bed and undresses.

You listen to the familiar sounds of him sliding into bed and then the room stills and you drift off, until Reveille wakes you in the morn.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #darkfic #tw dark themes #tw noncon #tw dark content #twdubcon #deimos x reader #r6s deimos #Deimos smut #r6s deimos x you #r6s deimos smut #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Note

Corpse voice request anon here xD

But yeah just kapkan waking up to like very deep voiced reader and being an absolute simp for reader. If you do write kapkan as a bottom then maybe also have reader break kapkans back iyk

Atta Boy

bottom!Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda X m!Reader

NONNIEEEE This is my FIRST MLM fic EVER so it was very exciting for me to do :) I really hope I did it justice and hope you enjoyed it!

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, m/m, anal, anal fingering, anal creampie, bottom!Kapkan

Word Count: 818

Russian Terms:

Dobroye utro = good morning

Khoroshiy = Good

“Dobroye utro.” Maxim said, stirring against you.

“Mm good morning.” You said, voice deeper than usual in the morning haze.

Maxim’s first motive in the morning was to torture you by rubbing his rear against your hardened cock. You snaked your large hand over his waist and felt his abdomen ripple under your touch. You buried your face into the nape of the hunter’s neck, inhaling his musky scent.

“You’re such a fucking tease Maxim.” You groaned, rutting against him through your boxer-briefs.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, playing coy as always.

“You know exactly what I mean.” You said in a low growl.

That got his attention. Maxim was a sucker for your abnormally deep vocals. He turned to face you, eyes dark and full of lust. He was already hard, cock touching your thigh. The smirk over his lips was impossible for him to hide around you. If there was one thing that was true about Maxim, it was that he was good at keeping his composure, except when it came to you.

“Atta boy.” You teased, latching your lips onto his harshly, drawing soft moans from him every time your mouth melted over his.

You started tugging at the waist of his underwear, desperate to feel his cock in your hand. He helped you, pulling them down over his ankles and tossing them to the side of the bed. You took yours off too, keeping your mouth on his the entire time.

“Mm…Max.” You groaned in a deep tone past the hunter’s lips.

Your name sounded like a prayer coming from his mouth when he said it in return. You parted from him, making sure to grab the lube from the nightstand while Max got into position for you. He loved nothing more in the morning than a hot cup of black coffee, and your thick cock lodged deep in his ass.

You stroked your fist over yourself, coating your length in the slick substance. Maxim presented himself to you, face down into the mattress, rear out and ready for you. You climbed onto the bed behind him. With a lubed finger, you pushed past his tight ring of muscle, hearing him whine into the comforter.

“Relax, come on. I know you can do it.” You lulled gently.

His cock was leaking down onto the sheets when you pushed another finger in, scissoring your digits to prep him for your size. When you were sure he was ready, as ready as he could be, you lined your cock up with his hole. You grabbed his hip with one hand before pushing past the threshold, and feeling the warmth envelop your girth.

“Oh, Max…fuck.” You groaned, beginning to thrust into his tight hole.

You put a large hand on the strong back of the hunter, pushing him down as you started thrusting into him harder. Maxim’s tight ring contracted, squeezing over your length and drawing deep, raspy moans from you. You started fucking him faster, more ravenously.

You leaned forward and grabbed his weeping shaft in your firm hand, stroking him to the rhythm of your thrusts. His whimpers got louder as you did, though they were still muffled by the mattress. You looked down at him, his face was turned to the side, reddened from the assault on his rear. He was drooling a dark spot onto the sheets.

“Tell me how that feels.” You urged, knowing it would be difficult for him.

“Khoroshiy,” he muttered, followed by a deep groan.

You continued running your fist over his cock, running down the length and then back to the base. He was so needy, so whiny, and you loved every small sound the strong Russian made at your touch. You started fucking him harder, feeling yourself getting closer to climax. His body slid forward. You brought one hand to his hip, and the other to pull on his dark locks. You leaned forward, and pulled his ear to your mouth.

“I’m gonna fill you up Max, you ready for that?” You said in the deepest, darkest tone you could muster.

“D-da.” He managed to get out.

You kept his hair clenched in your fingers, enjoying seeing the way he was coming unraveled under your grasp. You felt the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and your cock stiffened with your impending orgasm.

“Here we go, f-fuck.”

Even as you came, your gruff voice remained low. You felt your cock pulsating while you filled Maxim with your hot cum. He moaned, and his body trembled beneath you. When you were sure you were sufficiently spent, you pulled out of him and stepped off the bed.

“That’s my good boy.” You cooed, knowing that underneath him you’d find a cumstained sheet where he’d also found relief. “Now get yourself cleaned up, we have a busy day ahead.”

Melody's Birthday Celebration

Celebration Masterlist

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ghostiex0 · 2 years

Note

Ooo Hiya!!!<333

I slid back into your request because i love ur writing obviously and well bc..

May i request Kapkans s/o confessing to him that they think that his comrades (The rest of the spetznas) are hit and they'd like to start smth with them too?? NSFW if possible?

(Idk why i just love the idea of the spetsnaz sharing a s/o)

I totally forgot about this ask so I’m sorry it’s so late!! I made it kinda lengthy and rushed some parts for plot. No gender specifics so I tried to keep reader GN (vague on anatomy as well) Warnings: N/SFW content below! Minors DNI Unprotected fivesome. Mostly focused on reader. Messy attempts of Russian

At the start, you were sure it was normal. Your gorgeous lover had gorgeous friends, it made sense you wouldn’t be able to help yourself be at least a little imaginative. You also harbored much more guilt over it at the start. But now, six months into dating Maxim, you had gaslit yourself into the fact that their was nothing truly there. That fantasizing about them was completely normal, it was just a fantasy wasn’t it? It was just… a natural reaction you presumed.

It was common for all of the men to hang out outside of their work. Drinks, working out, hunts, anything really was a great excuse for them to banter about with one another. Today you were supposed to be heading up to the lodge. It was basically a tradition at this point and you were more than happy to agree, but maybe you should have thought about this a little more. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to keep your mouth shut about these feelings, or your legs for that matter.

“лисичка,” Maxims voice interrupted your thoughts, his footsteps walking towards you to pull you close. From this distance, you could hear the subtle beats of his heart, thumping in a rhythm that’s become so known to you. “have you been able to finish up the rest of your packing?” Thats right, packing. Jesus, you were getting so sidetracked thinking about all of that again.. about all of them again.

“Is something bothering you?” Shit. Maxim must have caught wind that something was up. Who were you kidding? Of course he did. He always knows that stuff. “No, no, it’s nothing really,” you lied through your teeth, “Just thinking about what we’re going to do at the lodge.” So, not a full lie.

He gave a small grin, “Glad you’re excited.” Moving to the other side of the bed, he looked over the suitcase you were finishing up stuffing, “Do you want any help?”

“No it’s fine honey, thank you.” As he walked past you to leave the room he was sure to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek, leaving you with a smile. You were definitely lucky.

As noon arrived, you could see all four of the men through your bedroom window, getting all of the luggage into the vehicle. You didn’t know exactly what time they had arrived, but it was recently. Your heart practically leapt out of your chest when Shuhrat looked up, making direct eye contact with you. You were so stupid, it would have been so easy to play that off as normal. Give him a small wave and then walk away, instead you acted like you were guilty. Slinking away and shutting the curtains. Whatever, you weren’t guilty of anything. What would he say? It’s not illegal to stare.

With an annoyed sigh, you left the bedroom finally, down to the house entrance, grabbing your coat off the rack, slipping it around your shoulders, and walked out.

“Ah! принцесса finally come to join us?” Alexsandrs voice was instantly recognizable, “seems so, hah.” He grinned at your response, moving to bring you in for a hearty hug. Your cheeks flushed, you knew they did. It made you swallow as quietly as possible.

“Good, because we should be heading out in a minute.” Timur spoke up, lifting an arm to pull the trunk down with a clink. Alex let you go to turn towards his Shuhrat and Timur who were closer to the car, leaving you to go to talk over things you only assumed would be frugal such as seating placements.

At 16:00 pm you all had finally arrived. The car ride was fun, but got stuffy after longer than 3 hours, thank god these men had to have patience in their line of work. Getting out felt like the stretch of a lifetime, a bit of crackling and some groans. Unpacking would be quite the trip in itself. You didn’t think you had brought a lot, but there were five of you. It made sense it would add up quickly.

The lodge was still struggling to warm up, some warm air every now and then stopping you from shivering. You were situated on the top floor, no where near the fire, so you supposed that was your fault. You kinda blamed Maxim for insisting that natural heat was the best way and Timur backing him up with how it made the place feel more magical than artificial heat. You weren’t feeling very magical right now that’s for sure.

If anything, you were getting overwhelmed. The car ride got stuffy sure, but underneath it you might have been making yourself feel that way. Recently, second guessing everything was the norm and overthinking about your lovers friends was constant. This was the guilt again wasn’t it?

Booms of laughter and mens voices rising made you settle with the lot of items already out, gently closing the door with your exit. “Знаешь, я бы с удовольствием заставил-“ “быть осторожным..” More laughter and chatter ensued. Whatever they were talking about, they seemed to be plenty entertained.

“Come to join us?” Once again, caught watching by Shuhrat. At least he didn’t seem bothered. The men surrounded the downstairs table. A sleek modern look on some old wood Maxim had cut down a year back. By sleek modern you meant it had been sanded and sealed of course… that’s really all.

“About time, you’ve been hogging yourself!” Alexsandr gave a laugh at his own tease. “Come sit.” He gave the couch a small pat, a seat right between him and Maxim. Your partner nodded in return, showing silent support.

Shooting Alex a small smile, you made yourself comfortable in between them. This was perfectly normal, but when you faced Shuhrat and Timur again, there was a certain glimmer in their eyes, like they were communicating with the two you sat between about something. But just as quickly as you saw it, it was gone.

Night crawled up quickly. Board games and fun might of had something to do with it, though you believed most of the credit had to go to the booze. They had brought some strong stuff, you knew to limit yourself and that you did. Just enough to make you feel lighter and not out of your mind. Apparently, it made you jumpy as well. You felt it almost immediately, Alexsandr’s big hand clasp down your thigh. A pure reaction, you jumped. Straight off the couch. There was only a second of silence, yet it felt like 5 minutes. All of their eyes just staring at you, a type of wonder you couldn’t possibly describe lay in them.

“Ahaha! Sorry- I just um- … I’ll be right back.”

You had thought about all their hands on you before. Maybe that’s exactly why your reaction was as dramatic as it was. It was like you had been caught. Like they knew you had been fantasizing about how their hands would feel. You needed a drink. Not alcohol this time either. Just a fresh glass of water, hopefully calm you down. The sound of the water running was enough to have you taking a deep breath, the water washing down your throat was even better.

“лисичка, what was that?” You hadn’t even heard him approach. Yet there Max was, standing only a few feet away from you, concern and confusion written all over his face. “I..” God you didn’t even know. How would you be able to say anything without sounding crazy about what happened? “I’m really attracted to your friends!” That sounds bad! Explain yourself! “- Then he touched me and I just panicked-! This is sounding bad, I’m so sorry”

Laughter. That’s right. You spilled your guts about liking his friends and he laughed. You were stunned. You stared at your lover in awe as he slowly regained himself, the laughter simmering into a low chuckle before he made eye contact with you again. “Huh?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I would be mad?”

Silence fell over the kitchen as you looked for any sarcasm in what he was saying. There was none. Maxim was being genuine about all of this. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Uhm, maybe because I just admitted I would fuck your friends..?”

“You would? Then why are we still just playing board games?”

You were speechless. Your mind was completely boggled, at everything! You knew they were all very close, but what guy would be okay with this sort of thing? His friends fucking his partner?

“I wouldn’t make you do something you don’t want too, but they like you.” Reassurance. That was something. You didn’t really need reassurance right now about if they all liked you or not, just about the seriousness of the situation. “I guess I’m a little shocked, aren’t you worried about ruining your friendship with them?”

“нет, I don’t think anything could ruin it.” Maxim was being fully open and honest with you about this, you could see, despite him being a rather protective partner, he genuinely didn’t seem that bothered with this. It made you wonder if this was the first time this idea had been thrown on the table.

“If everyone is up for it..” It felt embarrassing to say out loud. You couldn’t help but feel like at least a bit of a whore. Wanting four guys all to yourself. Jeez, how would this even go?

“Why don’t we head back to everyone?” the weight of his arm on your waist was a gravitation out of your thoughts. Your tongue felt heavy, so you gave a simple nod to his question, letting him guide you back to the living room.

When you entered the living room, all eyes snapped towards you, their gazes felt more raw and intense than they ever had before. Did they overhear what you both were talking about in the kitchen? You hadn’t been that loud…

“Я говорил с ней об обмене.” Their eyes left you and stared hard at Maxim instead. “в самом деле?” “да.” “So, are we all on the same page then?” The switch to English was seamless, almost a little too so. What did he mean ‘on the same page’? There was no shock on any of their faces, just patience as they had directed themselves back towards you.

“I think so…” you took a glance at Maxim, looking for any sign of discomfort, but their was none from him. Taking a deep breath you gave a little laugh. “Be honest, did you all already know?” Any anxiety that was resting in the air, disappeared as smiles showed and you could hear some chuckles.

“Well, we were hoping, is a better way to put it.”

You felt their answer was good enough, you didn’t really want to embarrass yourself anymore and decided to shrug it off. Something in your had warmed up to this quickly. No one was being awkward about it. It felt normal. Was this an agreement you all were a thing now?

“Why don’t we celebrate a bit?” Alexsandr spoke up, “I think everyone would benefit from a little bit of fun, help us all get more comfortable?”

“Ever the opportunist huh?” Timur quipped back at the older man, “but as long as everyone else is ready, I’m in.” Shuhrat nodded in agreement, “Maxim?”

Maxim didn’t hesitate to give his nod of approval as well.

Maxim now stepped up, taking the opportunity and easily shifting you up into his lap, his hands rested at your side, a stabilizing grip, but loose enough for you to shake him off if you needed. It felt comfortable and safe, even as your head spun with the thoughts of what was going to happen with these four men looking down on you.

Before you knew it, they all had at least one hand on your body. Respectful places, yet it was enough to let all your days or yearning for them to finally show through. Slightly sinking down on your lovers lap, causing one of their hands to slide a little further up your thigh. You couldn’t really tell who.

Maxim leaned as far back as the couch would allow, his hips rising up to push against your ass that now rested his lap. You were made acutely aware of the slow hardening pressed against you through his pants. On your left side, Timur made himself known, his lips gently pressing against your shoulder, giving you the chance to shrug him off if you wanted. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not with the tension and light touches from all of them that’s made you feel so delirious already. His lips danced along your neck, going from as soft as a feather, to causing you to take shape breaths of air in an attempt to stop your racing heart. You could only imagine the marks his attacks were going to leave.

“Do you mind?” The whisper from Shuhrat, positioned on your right, made you tense. You caught yourself in time to make sure you wouldn’t moan out loud. You still felt a bit of embarrassment burning on your cheeks, worsening when you realized his hands were positioned to slip off your top. Were you really going to have sex with your lover and his friends all at once? Yeah. You were.

Giving him a nod of approval, he shot a glance at Timur who gave your neck a break as your shirt was lifted up and over your head. Your bare chest on pure display for them. Rough and calloused hands rubbed over your hips, Maxim slyly rubbing his erection against you. You don’t know how, but you had failed to notice the older man get down on his knees in front of you until you felt his fingers hook onto your bottoms, swiftly pulling them down. So quickly, you had become fully bare for the men surrounding you. You could feel the need for more bubbling inside you.

Alexsandr’s scarred hands rubbed against the soft skin of your thighs, blue eyes watching your every move. You felt like you couldn’t look away from them. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, wondering if he could in the spasms of your leg muscles.

“Strip.” The order came out of your mouth like a whine. It caught them off guard almost as much as you. There was a tense silence, their eyes darting from you, to one another. “I- Please…?” Finally, the silence broke as Alexsandr gave a hearty laugh, Timur joining him but at a quieter volume.

“Вы слышали её,” Maxim piped up from behind you, you could hear the soft rustle of his clothing being slipped off. “делайте то, что она сказала.” The others seemed to take to what he said, a hum or a nod of approval as they all chose their easiest clothing articles to discard of. It wasn’t the first time you had seen this much of their skin, but it was the first time you were close enough to feel the burning warmth of it.

Your legs were pulled up and forwards due to Alexsandr. Maxim’s hands on your sides having saved you from loosing your balance. Another silent exchange seemed to happen between the four men. A part of you might have felt a little hurt at your exclusion, but there were much more prevalent things happening. Alexsandr moved his body back, giving Shuhrat access to in between your legs. The Uzbek naturally took his place, hands smoothing over your legs to slowly spread them open. All of them practically fucking you with their eyes for forever now had made any embarrassment nonexistent. Shuhrat’s chest slowly rise and fell with impeccably steady breaths. You couldn’t help but stare at his erection, prodding against the fabric of his baggy pants. Your hips started to slowly roll against Maxims, shallow breaths starting to sound like whines the more desperate you became. You could see through the fabric Shuhrat’s cock twitch. His grip on your legs tightened in preparation as he closed to gap between you two. Shuffling down his pants just enough to let him slip into you as he rocked his hips forward into yours. A whimper left your lips, leaning fully backwards onto your lover, Maxim, in defeat. The ache between your legs finally getting some release.

With the graze of a hand over your bare chest, you became aware of Timur’s presence, sat on the couch next to Maxim. The only thing stopping him from being fully nude were a pair of underwear that, like Shuhrat’s pants, did their best to keep the hardened cock he had secure within them. You couldn’t stop yourself before your palm rubbed against his crotch, causing him to let out a gorgeous groan. “Take them off..” you were able to breathe out, Timur listened, pulling down his last coverings and sucking in a breath when your hand trailed along him, eventually wrapping around his cock and slowly moving up and down, abusing the precum dribbling from his tip for lube.

Alexsandr sat calmly on the chair to the upper right of you, his blue eyes locked onto yours, causing a shiver to run through your body. Something about it was so intense and intimate despite the fact he had touched you the least out of any of them. He always had such a presence anyway. You couldn’t help but want him so bad. Especially since he was the one you haven’t been able to get any of yet.

Your eyes were ripped away from Alexsandr when the speed and strength of Shuhrat’s thrusting increased tenfold, a huffy groan coming from him as you felt your whole body rock with the next thrust. Your eyes naturally feel closed with hushed moans of pleasure coming from you. Your body felt like it was on fire. The rocking that Shuhrat’s thrusting caused made Maxim give a groan of his own, his cock being repeatedly rubbed up against. The mismatched choir of pleasure noises they all produced was music to your ears, urging you to dive deeper in. You did, snapping your hips up to meet Shuhrat’s as his cock sunk deeper inside you, hitting the place that made your eyes roll back. Your free hand gripped onto Maxims tousled pants that hung far below his waist, a meek attempt to ground yourself.

The tension in your core finally snapped, relief crashing onto your now sweaty skin as you came. Shuhrat gave a loud groan at that, leaning his head back slightly as his thrusts stuttered in their pace before he slipped out, leaving you feeling empty. You could feel small bits of Maxim’s cum drip down your back, Maxim’s rugged breathing on your neck as he came down from his high as well. You felt a pressure on your numb hand, Timur gently moving it away from his crotch. You wanted to know if he came as well, but felt so tired and dazed that it was hard to really do anything but lay where you were weakly.

Your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the darkness, only a small light illuminated barely half of the room. He was sitting above you, a fond smile on his face, a little intimidating with how wrecked you were. You didn’t know how you got here, but you were in the room you had originally unpacked in when you first arrived, hence the bed having an abundance of blankets already. Did he carry you all the way up here? You felt kinda bad, “Rest, дорогая.” it was as if he read your mind. “we have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.” He gave a gentle pat on your thigh if reassurance, leaning back on the pillows he stacked up against the wooden headboard of the bed to rest, himself.

#r6s #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege #fic #smut #spetsnaz #kapkan x reader #glaz x reader #fuze x reader #tachanka x reader

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luveline · 2 months

Note

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?”

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly.

“There’s a cock in the window.”

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.”

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside.

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not.

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation.

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly.

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues.

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.”

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?”

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask.

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?”

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck.

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted.

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?”

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision.

“Stop,” Remus says.

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you.

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him.

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’.

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide.

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out.

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions.

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.”

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you.

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?”

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity.

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?”

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes.

“So the vibration helps?”

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say.

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.”

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.”

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.”

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says.

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on.

“Sirius,” Remus pleads.

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?”

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?”

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh.

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning.

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.”

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why.

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lonelystarrs · 6 months

Text

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉.

𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗭𝗲𝗻’i𝗻 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

His gambling and betting habits often got himself into situations he’d rather not be in, it’s what landed him here at this stupid Halloween party with his utter goof of a girlfriend, but there were plans hiding under that ridiculous outfit.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI + smut + crack + size kink + ghostface! Toji + whip use + switch reader + mean Toji + public sex +

4.7k smut fic • I am unwell • enjoy my terrible humour. Kinktober

Part Two: Maid Zen’in

You thought you were real fucking funny didn’t you? Turning up in that ridiculous outfit.

Gojo was already cackling and elbowing Toji in the side.

“It’s hilarious, you sure got a keeper huh Zen’in?”

Toji rolled his eyes, thick shoulders hunching more and biceps bulging from his arms crossed. His ghostface mask sitting on the side of his head so he could literally drink his way out of this.

“Gotta admit, I still would.”

“Yeah? Feel free.” Toji sneered, trying so hard not to watch you but it was hard not to, you were busting out moves on the dance floor and because of the air filled suit, the moves were impossible to actually see them.

No matter where he looked, he could see the air filled horn bobbing around above the heads of others in the crowd of people at the club, the laser lights illuminating to the music as you danced with no care in the world amongst a group of people.

You said you were coming as a murderous unicorn, which was ridiculous enough, but what you were wearing was anything but fucking murderous, maybe to Toji’s ego and pride. The mane was rainbow, the white blow up body suit you had on filled with air and a pair of heels.

Fucking designer, red bottom strappy heels, in that costume.

“Yo, Zenin, isn’t that your girl?”

“No.” Toji denied it many times this evening, even though those asking knew otherwise.

Gojo cackled again, elbowing Suguru who joined the conversation as he watched you moving on the dance floor having far too much fun for your own good, the air filled suit making you move in a way that was fucking hilarious to the six eyes.

Toji knew why you were doing it, because you’d gotten into a argument this morning and he’d made a snide remark about something he didn’t even remember quite frankly, either way you’d fallen out and had been giving him the cold shoulder all day. Even meeting him here instead of coming with him.

Now though he was glad for the distance, soon as he seen you he couldn’t help but think thank fuck he walked into this club alone. He just had to bear witness to you flirting with the bouncers as they bantered with you about your outfit.

He wore a black tight muscle shirt, with black jeans, a holster on his chest with two big hunting knives either side and a ghost mask.

He looked like a threat, like something suitable for Halloween, you just looked like a girl living her princess dream prancing around like a pony. It was your whole idea coming to this thing in the first place and the only reason he was going was because he lost a bet with you, his damn gambling habit presenting her karma for him finding any opportunity to bet irresistible.

“Eh, she is sure giving it beans with those dance moves.” Satoru couldn’t help himself, his eyes were twinkling with amusement, he couldn’t stop watching you.

“I’m surprised you came, Toji, not usually your kind of thing.” Suguru at least was less bothersome on the topic.

“Oh look she’s on her way over!”

It was embarrassing watching you waddle through the crowds, beaming a smile that was only making his jaw clench and when you eyed him, giving him a flirty look of acknowledgment before changing your pace to a flirty strut, Toji nearly walked away.

“Hey handsome, do you wanna feed the pony?”

Gojo Satoru lost it beside you, bellowing a laugh at your over the top flirtation and even Suguru started to laugh.

“-cause you make me so hooooorny T.”

Your hands lifted to flick the bobbling horn on your head and Toji grabbed his mask pulling it back over his face before storming off to the bar again. Leaving Gojo to strut up to you and smack a hand on your shoulder in some kind of praise, perhaps he should just let you both date.

Perfectly suited for each other and the six eyes did have a thing for you, the sulking for two weeks after Toji first claimed you as his girl was enough of a clue. Let alone the remarks Satoru made towards you, his eyeballing and offering to date you instead of Toji.

But you’d always refused.

And he was kinda glad, as odd as it could be at times you did bring some fun to Toji’s life, a perfectly grown women when needed but that side of you that had zero ability to be embarrassed was troublesome, but at times entertaining. He could banter with you in a way he couldn’t with females usually and you only dished it back.

But the sex, fuckkkk the sex. You were insatiable and you’d even made his eyes almost cross a few times, how you sucked his cock was unworldly and lucky for him you couldn’t get enough of doing it.

Toji took a seat at the bar, ordering a strong whiskey to try give him some hope on getting through this evening with some sanity, how long he was sat there he didn’t know, but being alone only gave the opportunity for girls to come up to him.

So you wanted to play huh?

He could play, perhaps make you regret trying to show him up like that.

He entertained it, a girl in an angle costume coming up, her tits out held by some flimsy looking material that Toji could so easily rip from her, some skimpy white skirt that was hiding nothing, white stockings on show and pretty blonde hair.

She wasn’t exactly horrifying, but this was what girls went for this time of year, not like he was complaining -he was a guy after all.

She twirled her finger around a strand of hair, battering her eye lashes at him.

“You’re like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” Toji smirked, turning in his seat to face her, giving her the once over, “—how so?”

Toji played it clever, soaking up the praise instead of giving it just because if you were looking you’d be none the wiser. As much of a woman jumper as he used to be Toji was loyal when treated well, and treated well by you he certainly was.

The blonde reached out to trace a finger on his muscles, dragging an acrylic nail down the line between his bicep.

“You’re huge-“

“So I’ve been told,”

“Anything else big about you?”

Toji chuckled tilting his head to her when she bravely gripped his arm and squeezing the bicep, just as he was about to say that’s enough a riding crop slammed down between them, hitting the bar with enough force everyone sat there spun around.

“Hey angel face, he flexing his muscles for you hmm? He’s such a show off, thought I trained him better than that.”

Toji knew that tone, the kind that made him lay back let you ride him until you were spent, the kind that kinda made him melt a little inside for you —not like you’d ever, in a million fucking years, know that.

Green eyes turned to meet you, expecting to see you in that ridiculous blow up unicorn suit, instead it was gone and suddenly he was wondering where the hell it was so he could put it back on you to stop the amount of looks you were getting.

Stood there with the lights dancing around you in leather chaps with studs, a leather bra with a body harnesses a fucking pink gag horse bit dangling down your neck resting between your collar bones and bright red lipstick, hair into a clean, high ponytail with a crop in hand.

And he knew his dick was gonna be under those red bottomed heels this evening.

You had a black, glittery horn on your head that had red glitter spilling down it that imitated blood, along with make up running down your forehead in red glitter.

This was your damn take on a murderous unicorn?

The blonde went to open her mouth, but you beat her to it, pressing the crop under her chin and closing it for her.

“Shh, this guy-“ you stepped forward and Toji reached for you, standing behind you as he pulled you in, a large hand made its way around your neck to grip it from behind “-he doesn’t fuck angels, he’s too corrupt for that.”

The smirk that spread over his face was nasty, tilting your head back into his chest and pressing his lips to yours, going straight for your bottom lip with his teeth and pulling.

He felt you moan against his tongue as it swiped your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Playin’ a dangerous game comin’ out like this doll,”

“Yeah?”

Toji hummed whilst kissing you upside down again,

“Yeah, s’get outta here-“

“Or-“ you span around in his arms, leaned up to him and brushed your lips against his, “-we can use the private room back there for VIP.”

Toji rose an eyebrow at you, you only grinning at him and grabbing his hand to lead the way through the groups of people until you both reached a gold door, the bouncer there nodded at you and Toji rose an eyebrow.

Since when did you know people on that level to only be acknowledged through nodding?

Your back hit the door the moment it shut and Toji was on you within seconds, hand gripping your neck and squeezes it in the way he knew made your cunt clench, choking you lightly whilst tilting your head up to him feeling your little moan on his palm against your throat.

“What you got goin’ on in that head of yours sweetheart? I ain’t stupid.”

You shrugged, “-nothing really, but I am wondering if you wanna make a lil bet again.”

Toji rose an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to look around the room, it wasn’t huge, the seats were black trimmed with gold in a booth shape with a small table off to the side.

“Keep talkin’”

“I’m thinking, you let me take control and if you lose it I win.”

Toji snorted a laugh, “-you won’t even get my cock in that tight lil cunt without my help doll, you think you’re gonna manage with me just sitting back?”

“If I need your help, then I lose.”

He released you and stepped back until he let himself slump back onto the booth, spreading his legs and his arms across the top of the booth, one hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt and undo the button to his jeans, pulling the zipper down. His skin tight top riding up showing the lines of his V that lead to a cock too big for most girls to handle. The black pubic trail of hair also leading a line down into his boxers.

“C’mon then sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

He was snide, cocky with how he was sat spread out and you smirked at him stepping forwards, pressing the crop under his chin and tilting it up to you looking down on him, his green eyes glazed with sly intention, his smirk only aiding it.

“You’re not allowed to touch me, clear?”

Toji rolled his eyes and shrugged “-whatever you say, boss. You’ll be begin’ for me too long before I need to.”

Toji’s eyes widened when you actually smacked the crop across his face, anger filtered through him briefly at you having the fucking balls to even think you’d get away with it, but when he looked back at you, eyes half hooded with some kind of pissed off look he only felt his cock throb. The leather you wore was glistening in the low lights, hugging every curve and pressing your tits up perfectly.

“Less snark, Zen’in, it’s boring me.”

Holy shit —fuck you were still surprising him 2 years into this damn relationship, how the hell had you hidden this from him? You had attitude, that was never hidden and fucking it outta you was borderline impossible, but it didn’t mean keeping you fucked dumb didn’t work until you got bratty again.

He glared at you, hands balling into fists and his jaw clenched, the red welt forming on his cheek as he held eyes with you.

“Don’t push it,”

“I plan to, Toji, or do you feel yourself losing patience already? Might be an easy win for me after all.”

You litt-

Toji groaned, his stomach tensing as the ball of your foot pressed into his semi hard dick only encourage it to harden under it, his hips rolled and his head tilted back, keeping eyes with you as you watched his reaction.

“Been thinking about sucking you off all night, my mouths watering over it T.”

“As said doll, it’s all yours.”

You hummed and stepped forward, pulling his jeans down just enough to free his dick as it slapped against his stomach, pre drooling from the tip into the deep lines of his six pack.

“You’re drooling already, Toji.”

He watched as you lowered yourself between his legs, bending forward to run your tongue between the lines of his six pack collecting pre on your tongue, teasingly running it around the head of his dick not touching it directly, only grazing the tip with the underside of your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his as your placed your hands on his thighs.

“That’s it-“ Toji sucked in air, his muscles tensing under your tongue as he watched you, eyes focused on your tongue glistening with drool and pre.

You pressed a kiss to the underside of his head, peppering them down the length of him before your tongue pressed to the base and ran up to the tip again, letting a glob of spit drip to cover it. His cock flexed against his stomach, smearing the spit along his skin as it rested heavy on his stomach.

His eyes rolled back when you finally wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking before bobbing your head with your hand twisting, keeping to the top of his dick and moving your tongue around the head. His hips bucked, fingers digging into the booths padding to stop himself reaching out, cause all he wanted was to grip your hair and fuck your face like a fleshlight. See how watery your eyes got, watch the drool spilling down your chin, see how well your throat bulged out from his dick, pressing his hand against your throat to feel himself fucking you.

But he was a man of strong will, even if his toes were curling in his shoes as you worked his cock like a dream, the squelching of your mouth as spit started to dribble down his dick. You kept going in the same pattern, twisting your hand when it separated from your mouth bobbing and sucking him in, your tongue swirling around this head giving him constant friction.

“Gonna suck the cum outta me? Fuck -hah- shit doll, that your fucking plan?”

He felt you laugh on him, pulling away with a pop and drool down your cheeks, red lip stick smeared on your lips and his dick.

Your eyes all glassy and panting lightly looking at him with fuck me eyes and his heart thumped against his rib cage, kicking away in a flutter that only pissed him off. He knew he liked you, way too fucking much for his own sanity and it pissed him off that you got under his skin in a way he couldn’t get enough of.

But how you looked right now? Between his thick thighs, running your tongue up and down his big cock that looked so huge in your hands, staring at him with eyes like that, willingly making a mess of yourself on him?

Fuck it took everything in him to not reach out and kiss you stupid, to bury his cock into you and let you cum over and over on him in a love language only he could give.

You didn’t reply, instead you stood and placed your feet on the booth seat either side of him, then lifting your right to place beside his head, hovering your cunt over him as you ran two fingers over your clothed pussy.

“No Toji, that’s not my plan.”

He groaned when you pushed the material aside, letting him view your glistening cunt as it drooled with slick. He was half expecting you to let him touch you at this point, his cock flexing against his stomach as his own pre started to leak into his muscle lines again. Watching as one hand spread yourself open for him, the other rolling around your clit.

It was cruel how you moaned above him, it was mean as you pressed two fingers into your tight hole letting him watch you spread yourself open for him.

“You’re clenching around those fingers, they ain’t deep enough are they sweetheart? Trying to act like a little whore but you can’t fuck yourself like that, y’need me, so why don’t you just give in?”

Toji reached for his own cock, wrapping a fist around himself slowly stroking.

“-sit on my face, get that other leg up and put that pussy where it it belongs hmm? I’ll get you cummin’ how you like.”

Pulling your fingers back covered in slick you toyed with your clit again, hips rolling as you lowered yourself to his face.

“S’it baby, she needs my mouth hmm? I know what she needs-“

“M’gonna cum-“ Toji hid his sneer as he watched you pick up your pace, rolling your clit around your slick covered fingers and he could see your little hole clenching around nothing, fluttering as you came.

His nice attitude left him, sneering an insult under his breath as you cummed over his face, thinking he almost had you breaking the bet by caving first.

“Open your mouth T, I’ll let you catch it,”

Green eyes focused on the clear slick starting to drool from your fluttering hole, a link forming and he held his tongue out, letting the sweetness of you coat it.

“You’re so fucking hot, honestly.” Toji hummed at your praise and taste of you, your foot retreated from besides his head, falling to your knees either side of him, eyes all glassy and pretty, pink dusting across your cheeks.

Your hand reached down to grab his dick from his own hands, wrapping a hand around him and rubbing his head at your hole.

“You’re brave but you ain’t doin’ that without me. No fucking chance.”

You hummed and let your weight start to drop onto him, the stretch already too much as his thick head pushed through the tight ring of muscle, both moaning at the feel of it, your warmth starting to swallow him in.

He gave an airy chuckle when he seen you panting, struggling to take him when you got half way.

“What’s wrong brat? Thought you had this, you look like you’re struggling to me.”

You glared at him, reaching up and turning the ghost face mask on the side of his head to cover him completely.

“Shut up you asshole,”

His patience was dancing on thin ice, the need to thrust into you and bury you to hilt, to bully the rest of his thick cock into you was making his nerves jump. As much as he tried to ignore the need to grip your hips and slam into you, to fuck you until you seen stars and begged him to stop was overwhelming.

However when you slammed yourself down onto him, his head tilted back.

“Ah fuck- you little brat-“

Your hands gripped his shoulders and you spread your knees further from him, already feeling so full. You looked up only to see him tilting his head back, his breathing picking up and his hips stuttering under you fighting the instinct to move.

You couldn’t see his face, covered by the ghost face mask and it only made it hotter. Your hands gripped the material either side of it and tilted him to look at you.

When you started to bounce on him, your walls tightened around him still trying to adjust, his eyes rolled back under the mask only opening again to see you above him looking fucked out.

“Shit, sweetheart y-you’re, fuck me, shit, y’fucking yourself dumb on this fat dick?”

You nodded dumbly at him giving him a panty ‘uh-huh’ as you sank yourself down on him again.

“Harder, if you’re gonna fuck this dick do it harder, I wanna see you strugglin’ on it.”

His hands were flexing on the booth, he started to fidget under you as you kept a pace that was no where close to getting you both to cum, he wasn’t a fool, he ever was a stupid man…

He knew you were doing it to break him first and when that thought crept into his head about giving in, he couldn’t ignore it.

You felt wet, you sounded soaking and he could feel your slick drooling down past his balls. Fucking him with this mask on like he was some toy for you was in fucking credible.

To top it all off you had the balls to smack him with that whip, the boss him around which no one done, and you were both in public.

He wanted your mouth, fuck he wanted your tongue down his throat as you whimpered into him.

He was never one who bothered about consequences, never one to care about repercussions.

“You never told me -hah- you never said what the loser has to do.”

“Maid outfit-“ you painted out, “-fucking you in this mask is so hot, fuck your dick is made f’me T.”

“Maid outfit? Loser wears one?”

You nodded dumbly and he chuckled, that’s it?

“That’s it? Fuck this-“

Toji reached up, tearing the mask off and throwing it across the booth, his large hands reaching down to grab your ass painfully.

“You ain’t walkin’ outta here pretty girl, I ain’t carrying you either-“ your eyes widened as he pulled from you , his tip just stretching you out as a wild smirk blew across his face, his eyes almost dots as he looked at you like he was about to kill you “-you little brat, I’m gonna watch you struggle then I’m gonna fuck you even harder when we get home.”

He seen your face fall, the regret perhaps dancing across your eyes and he soaked it up knowing it would fade by tomorrow. Knowing you’d be your cocky self all over again.

And he couldn’t wait.

His pace was brutal, hips slapping up into you with such force your skin was starting to sting, the leather of your outside screeching with each movement.

“Kiss, now-“ his demand was through panting, his breathing heavy as he worked his body to bully his cock inside of you, you gave him wanted he wanted as your whimpers and moans vibrated against his tongue. He swallowed each noise, his hands bruising on your ass cheeks as he held onto them for life.

Then you made a noise he’d never heard, almost a sob that mixed with a moan.

“Atta girl, keep making that noise-“ your arms wrapped around his neck, burying your face into it as your body stuttered and he knew he hit the place he was looking for, “-there it is, gonna cum for me you little slut? Can feel her squeezing me, she’s so tight”

He moaned into your ear, teeth biting at it as he coaxed you into coming with harsh words.

“M’cumming, holy shit Toji-Toji slow down, fuck m’gonna cum!”

“Do it then, I want her sucking the cum outta me, gonna have it drooling down your legs when we get outta here, whole clubs gonna see you’re a slut.”

The moan you gave was pained, frustrated as you danced on the edge of cumming, that coil so tight in your stomach, feeling like you were gonna snap but it wasn’t happening.

“Fuck!” You growled out in frustration into his neck, shifting yourself against him and he chuckled.

“She’s as stubborn as you huh?” He wrapped an arm around you, turning you so your back landed on the booth seat and his other hand grabbed the mask he flung off, pulling it back over his head as he towered over you.

“Look at you, tiny, pathetic little thing- look so dumb all cock drunk,” he rotated his cock inside you, hips moving in a circle as he looked down on you in the ghost mask.

Your hands reaching up to grip his biceps that bulged from holding his weight above you and he looked huge, made you feel like nothing under him. The low light of the room almost blocked out by his shoulders.

He started to rut into you, pressing a thumb to your clit and rolling rough circles around it. A strangled noise leaving you as your hips bucked up, tears welling in your eyes as your body started to shake under him.

“It’s too much, T-Toji it’s too much.”

“Yeah? Deal with it, I’m gonna cum soon and I don’t give a shit if you don’t,”

The panic on your face was enough to make him smirk under the mask, rolling his thumb around your clit harshly knowing it would be too much to actually make you cum.

“I want to,” your head rolled back and tears finally fell from your eyes in frustration, fucked beyond the point of cumming for him as you felt that knot slipping away left with raw, frustrating over stimulation from his rough handling.

“Then cum like a slut, you know how to do it.”

He moved his thumb, slowing his pace to harder thrusts that made your body jolt, tits bounce with each delayed, wet plap, plap, plap of his dick bullying into you.

When your eyes glazed over, your body relaxed under him he knew he had you were he wanted, Toji dropped to his elbows, leaning down to your ear as his hips worked to keep you both going.

“Baby-“ he cooed into you, voice slightly muffled under the mask, “-you feel good, pussy made f’me yeah?”

He felt you nod dumbly, your moans jolted by his hips.

“And dicks made for ya, sweetheart, she’s sucking me in so well.”

He knew he was contradicting himself making a fucking idiot out of his previous taunting that he’d cum without you, but seeing you actually frustrated, tears spilling down and you struggled made the little empathy he had in life flicker.

He kept his short punches, his lower stomach rubbing against your clit and keeping his cock punching that spot inside you until you cried out, suddenly cumming around him violently. Clinging onto him for dear life and sobbing after, pushing his mask off again so you could look at him.

“Damn girl, you’re -“ he groaned at your face, absolutely ruined from his rough treatment, your lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged with drool and tears.

Your walls fluttering around him brought him with you, curling himself over you until he folded you up, burying himself balls deep as he emptied into you, stuttering, airy curses leaving him as he convulsed against you, hips jolting as your walls pressed around him swimming his dick in cum.

You were slack under him and his energy spent as he almost fell into you, burying his face into your neck as your panting filled the room.

Bodies aching as you pulled apart, Toji sitting back on the booth and leaning his head back, chest still heaving to bring air into his lungs.

He side glanced at you, looking at your pretty face before moving down to your swollen hole leaking cum from it. Toji reached out and patted your public bone.

“She takes me like a champ-“

You deadpanned, before sitting up onto your elbows still recovering with a breathy voice.

“She doesn’t have a choice, you monster.”

Your foot playfully pushed him and he grabbed it, bringing it up to his head so he could kiss the inside of your ankle.

“Seem to be dealin’ with it just fine,”

“So, you liked the unicorn thing?”

“No. Don’t ever do it again, I’ll leave your ass and Gojo can have you.”

“Really? Cause I was thinking of a new theme song, it’s a twist on the original-“

“Don’t sing it,”

“My lil pony, you wanna bone me~?“

If you want Toji in the maid outfit here’s the link to the next part : Maid Zen’in

1K notes · View notes

highvern · 1 month

Text

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that.

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off.

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news.

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass.

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical.

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation.

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you.

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his.

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision.

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery.

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him.

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?”

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place.

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom.

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline.

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch.

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy.

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on.

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him.

“Fuc–Yoongi!”

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits.

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?”

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.”

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.”

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool. “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.”

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing.

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.”

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out.

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!”

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position.

“Oh my god, Yoongi.”

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

“I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off.

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy.

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it.

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again. “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?”

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off.

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #🫡 highvern

477 notes · View notes

thewriterg · 5 months

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.1

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; new recruits, questions, and a bag of tricks

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n; my toxic trait is starting a new series before finishing my other ones 😊 | chasin chaos masterlist

“Sergeant Mactavish, Werewolf.” The brunette held his hand out clawed fingers reaching about for the lieutenant who barely spared it a glance before looking back towards his sergeant and captain who smirked or started back at him smugly your presence lacking completely which was uncommon even if you weren’t meeting the eye he could feel your presence today it was gone but he temporarily stopped himself from dawning on it while words spewed from his lips

“Where’d you find this guy?” The gruff voice drizzled over the sassy reply made Gaz bight back a chuckle

“At the end of a rainbow” The harpy replied smartly his arms crossed over his chest feathers lying delicately over the surface of his forearms slightly lighter than the ones on his back where his wings sat it’s trail coming curtly to an end when it reached his the front of his wrist that damned fitted cap resting around his head in its common home ground talons tapping one of the many quills the sound almost sounding if he were thunking a table having his feathers harden on command just for the sake of it a quirk you could say

“Worth his weight in gold mind you” Price offered eyes not looking up from some type of notes he were reading over thick pear and moss mixed green colored horns sitting adorned on his well kept hair curling slightly forward and up Ghost could tell he was wearing an older shirt since there were two holes cut out instead of one for his stray wing that still sat strong spar bones matching the color of his horns and furless tail while the mainsail resembled a more dirty rag cream color

“They said it not me” Soap grinned mock waving off the compliment quirking the damned thick bushy brow of his the only one with a slit slicing right through the point of the arch while the hulking man sighed heavily dragging a hand over his covered face balaclava with a simple print of his actual hard mask a skull

“Fuckin’ hell… you follow orders?” The muffled voice was not a mere obstacle for the hybrid to hear the slight pointed ears on the side of his face doing their job well to listen

“I well trained if that’s what you’re asking. Sit, stay, paw, jump, roll over, I know ‘em all.” The brunette looked off mocking a ponderous expression counting off on his fingers the canines in his mouth slightly showing even though they were retracted

“Real bag of tricks, aren’t you?” The instinct in the sergeant perked up as you suddenly trailed beside ghost surprised that he hadn’t been able to pick up your presence or at least your scent quicker like he had with Ghost especially since they were so… different not having a face to match with your cooled voice since it seemed you also favored a balaclava yours simply plain black yet he didn’t mind just gave him two sheets to play at once…

Raking eyes over your figure the man determined you were a looker for sure yet he didn’t miss how the other silently agreed

“My apologies miss, I dinae get your name” Soap stated a now gentle smile resting on his face that you seemingly ignored accent seeping through a little more and as more time went on the more he could smell the authority coming from you and Ghost it was a little less than Price yet more than Gaz and the other recruits around base

“Depends who you ask. What’s the role you’ve had in your pack?” You questioned eyes low that he could see through the gap in your mask where your sight shone through staring him down almost as if you could see right through his soul yet he kept his quirky grin Mohawk stopping just below the base of his neck a small piece of stray hair lying against his forehead thick fluffy tail perking up slightly swaying against the back of his thighs cargo pants dipping in the back just below his tail

“I’ve been in a few packs could be an alpha, beta, omega if you wanted me to… but I seen you have your roles sorted. I’ve got no problem bein’ ah pup miss” You roll your eyes at that while the brunette winks you swiftly trail away dragging Ghost away with you picking up Price on the way while both men let you drag them along their hulking figure’s towering over your back boots slightly thumping against the floor before your figures disappear within the halls he turns to the crow who’s fiddling with the screen of his phone

“You ever feel left out of somethin’?” Soap questions and Gaz suddenly stands a small smirk on his face as he rakes his eyes over the wolf before shaking his head

“There’s enough for everyone to get their fill, you’ll be next soon enough” Without an explanation the sergeant was already trailing away opposite of where you had gone leaving him alone

But never for too long

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“It’s rude to stare sergeant” Ghost grunted gruffly after jamming his janky locker shut barely giving Soap enough time to look at his shadows slipping from under his glove some looking like it was traveling farther up almost resembling veins while the rest began to make a small cloud on his wrist until he shoved his sleeve over the sight unapologetic about the whole thing barely looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the wolf as he stood behind him

“Just tryin’ ta figure you out, Lt.” He grins tail becoming livelier as it perks up behind his back before it reluctantly lowers still up and lively

“I’m well traveled, seen a lot of things, met a lot of people. Never smelt anythin’ like you… or Flatline for that matter” A slightly clawed finger rests curled on his chin tail gently flapping up and down it had been a little over a week since he was recruited it didn’t take long for him to find out your name or call sign that might have well been your name since no one seemed to know it just by the brief description of eerie, bold eyes, and a mask to cover you face, he got the answer of either Ghost or Flatline

“Hell of a compliment soldier” The blonde resorts almost sarcastically finally looking over his broad shoulder to lock eyes with the brunette and he waves him off finally stepping closer to the skull mask wearing man deciding by his side was the best place to stand and if he noted the smoke trying to spill from his pockets where he had his hands shoved deeply he didn’t say anything about it

“Och, you know I dinnae mean it that way. Can’t blame me for bein’ interested, I never packed with a wraith hybrid before… or a phoenix thought they were bedtime stor-”

“Not hybrids” Ghost cuts off the scott before he can dig any deeper and he furrowed his eyebrows questioning if he had heard right if his ears were failing him or not with a small ‘what’ spilled from his lips

“We’re not hybrids.”

“No shit? What the hell is tha’ like?” Swiftly Simon was in front of him eyes bold yet precise slicing right through him while Johnny’s gaze slightly widened at the quick movement his boots not even so much a squeaking against the ground a bit of the air currents flowing against Soaps slight shorter form

“You ever shut up Mactavish?” He somewhat seethed and the wolf was back to sly grin in less than minute, the grin that showed his canines in the full well kept facial hair adorning his structure even more, the grin the wraith wanted to wipe of his fucking face to be exact.

“Only when people make me.” Soap implied looking up slightly to address his superior with a voice that would make other feverish or peely in his terms that damned drunken grin still on his lips while Ghost practically stared him down eyes slightly squinted thoughts brewing behind those sharp, precise eyes of his that the Scott couldn’t wait to hear of tail swaying behind him with a bit more speed than before but of course his Lt. was a tease and put all his weight on one foot to turn walking out of the locker room without so much a grunt but he liked the chase

And so did superiors

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“It’s an in and out mission that I’m sure you could do on your own, however I don’t need higher ups on my ass about favoritism. You’ll grab a few normals and head Midwest in the states to Chicago. One out of three missiles resigns with one of the biggest weapons busts in America that’s supposedly on its way over to Russia package delivery for a friend of ours… Makarov.” The air in the room shifted at the name drop of a once friend fallen foe even though You and Prices shoulders were up at the mere mention of Russia itsself you had a love hate relationship with meeting room as you got passed a file over things you truly didn’t need to go over things that a rookie could even fill in the blanks for

“This will either be the easiest sail of your life or your standing on the line of death, you all know your first priority even though I know you don’t want to hear it. Push come to shove the normals go first.” The older short cut haired woman looked at You, Price, and Ghost especially Soap noticed it confused him at first the wraith and phoenix at least, two lieutenants in such a small base or at least a small base that wasn’t Air Force but it made sense to him shortly after when he peeked in on occasional training sessions thought out a week You and Ghost switched groups between normals and weaker hybrids both favoring one group more than the other deep down and then at the end of the week bring them together to spar

“Wheels up at 04:00 tomorrow I’m sure you’ll have your picks by then.” Laswell sighed looking around the table for any objections your sitting between Soap and Gaz while Price and Ghost are sitting on the opposite side of the rounded table one of your legs are crossed under your form while the other is propped up you have your arms wrapped around it and your covered chin is lying on your knee and without another word she grabbed her laptop and exited room something about a ball and chain to her desk

The wolf and harpy are first to get up from their seats and the winged hybrid doesn’t go before gently brushing his fingers against your arm migrating towards the exit even though he’s stopped shortly by a shit eating grin and swaying tail conversation quickly taking place between the two

“So, what do you think?” Price hums both him and Simon approaching your seat as you began to stand rolling your shoulders eyes low beneath your mask it was still early in the day only 13:27 you had a training group normals at 14:15 sharp anyone who was a minute late got to run laps around base even if they weren’t hybrids or the ‘superior’ race in the field you couldn’t determine if you were fighting a hybrid or a normal and if you babied them because they were weaker than a super they wouldn’t have a fighting chance against one.

“He asks a lot of questions” Ghost responds curtly while the older man takes no offense to it producing a chuckle from the back of his throat taking out a cigar from his breast pocket in his vest holding out the thick brown lump filled with nicotine out to the blonde who responded by taking out a silver lighter snapping the cover back quickly as it produced a flame its front covered by an ace card with its main attraction being a skull the drug lights aflame a small hissing sound coming from it when the salt and pepper haired hybrid took a drag

“Comes with the package. Wolves don’t like uncertainty in the pack dynamic.”

“He knew you and Gaz before he transferred, didn’t he?” You spoke up squinting your eyes at your captain eyelashes mere meters away from kissing your cheek standing the only way he could get a read on you and Simon he usually says ‘those eyes can tell you everything and nothing all at once, just gotta watch em.’

“Yes, but you’re both hell of a new variable” Price admits before smugly nudging your shoulders with his strong single wing while Ghost crossed his arms over his chest you roll your eyes stepping away from the pair

“Save your verdicts until you see him in action, he’s a vision in the field.”

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Hey… how yall doing 😅

I haven’t posted since October I missed you writers!

Ermm I’m a year older —Nov 8th— happy belated birthday to me

And that’s about it 😭

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