#AND THEN WHEN I FINALLY FINISHED THIS THREE DAYS AGO

[didyoulookforme]

though i wish i could

you and matty decide to help each other out. because that's obviously what best friends do. slightly based on letter T of the nsfw alphabet

7.7k words

warning: 18+, smut, smoking. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

-----

it was one of those nights—the kind where matty showed up unannounced, a cigarette tucked behind his ear and some super genius plan to pass the evening. maybe it’d be a god awful movie, maybe a record you’d practically worn out together. it didn’t matter. it never did. it was familiar, easy, predictable. best friend stuff—or at least that’s what you told yourself.

except best friends don’t usually lie on your lap with their head resting softly as you run your fingers through their wild, curly hair. they don’t absentmindedly toy with the rings on your hand like they��re trying to memorize the way they feel. and they certainly don’t slip a casual “baby” into every other sentence, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. no, that’s not normal best friend behavior. but this was matty. he was different. always had been.

you’ve convinced yourself that this is just how the two of you are. how you’ve always been—so close you know each other inside and out, with almost no boundaries left to cross. so, what’s wrong with placing a half-finished joint between his lips while his eyes pierce into yours like he’s searching for something you’re not sure you want him to find?

because, after all, he was just your best friend. nothing more.

right?

-----

so there you were—half-baked on the floor of your living room, matty’s head resting on your legs like it belonged there. he’d just come back from tour, and, let’s be honest, keeping you two apart afterward was practically impossible. no matter how long he’d been gone, the second you were together again, it was like no time had passed.

not that it didn’t absolutely wreck you when he was away. facetime calls and texts were fine, sure, but they weren’t him. they weren’t his stupid laugh echoing through your tiny flat, or the way he’d complain about your snack choices while demolishing half the bag anyway. having him here again, sprawled out on your carpet like he’d been there all along, felt… right. comfortable.

you missed him more than you’d ever dare admit, so this—him, a joint lazily passing between you, his voice weaving into the crackle of the record spinning nearby—felt like something you didn’t want to let go of. he felt like home… within your home...? something like that. whatever it was, you were maybe too stoned to overanalyze it right now.

his hair was different since the last time you’d seen him in the flesh. it had that purposeful, messy-but-not-really look—soft curls held in place with just enough gel to make him seem like a bad boy who’d totally just rolled out of bed. you’d seen it for the first time on twitter when a photo of him mid-concert popped up on your feed. it took exactly three seconds before you were calling him, demanding why he’d chosen to ruin your life with the audacity of that look.

“thought you’d like it,” he’d said, all smug.

and you did. of course, you fucking did.

your fingers slid through those same curls now, twirling a strand here, tucking another behind his ear. his eyes fluttered shut as he let out a soft hum. that stupid, crooked smile of his practically begged for it. you knew this was the kind of thing you only let yourself do when you were high—or drunk, or tipsy enough to stop overthinking. it was the only time your guard dropped enough to touch him like this. 

and then there were his lips. moving. saying something. but you weren’t listening. you were too busy internally freaking out because, only a few days ago, you’d finally admitted to yourself that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t see him as just a friend. that perhaps you lo—

“hey, so… i found your arsenal of vibrators earlier today.”

and just like that, you were yanked back into reality.

“for fuck’s sake, matthew. you can’t just say that.”

“not my fault you keep your weed and sex life in the same drawer.” his grin was unholy. “kind of asking for it.”

your hand instinctively tugged his hair in protest, earning a wince and a laugh from him. “stop that!”

“stop what? speaking the truth?”

you groaned, already regretting letting him in your apartment. well, maybe not, but still. “i can’t believe you went snooping.”

“wasn’t snooping. was looking for weed and happened to find your box.”

you tried to glare at him, but it lasted all of two seconds before you cracked, laughing despite yourself. you hid your face in your hands again, groaning. “god, you probably saw the new one too, didn’t you?”

“oh, you mean the one that looks like it was designed by an aerospace engineer?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “yeah. terrifying, honestly. but also, kind of impressive. good for you, babe.”

“kill me now.” you slumped back against the couch, mortified.

“why? better me finding it than someone else, right?” he tilted his head back against your legs, looking up at you.

“okay, sure,” you said, trying for nonchalance, “but ‘arsenal’? really? it’s a perfectly normal amount.”

he snorted. “baby, there are at least seventeen in there. and in all shapes, sizes, colors—hell, i’m pretty sure one of them was glowing.”

“first of all, it’s not glowing—it’s neon,” you corrected, crossing your arms over your chest. “and second, so what if i enjoy options?”

“options, huh? right. i’ll keep that in mind,” he took a slow drag from the joint, cheeks hollowing in a way that made you forget why you were mad for half a second.

it was infuriating, really. matty, who was usually sweet and soft-spoken, had an alarming tendency to let loose when he was high. most of the time, it was harmless. occasionally, though, he’d push his luck. like tonight, apparently. maybe this was payback for the years you’d spent grilling him about his girlfriends you’ve never liked.

you sighed, leaning back against the couch as he passed the blunt back to you, his eyes never leaving yours. and even though he’d just embarrassed the hell out of you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“so, how often do you even use them?” the question came out easy, casual, like it was no big deal to pry into the most intimate corners of your life. typical best friend behaviour, sure.

“what, you want an exact schedule? why?”

“just curious. purely educational. broadening my horizons.”

you rolled your eyes, the spliff perched loosely between your fingers as you handed it back to him. “couple times a week. three if it’s been a particularly boring stretch. maybe more if i’m in the mood.”

he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, staring up at the ceiling like he’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. “three times a week,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “that’s… respectable. consistent.”

“you’re such a dick.” you laughed, swatting at his arm. “and you?”

he hesitated as he scratched the back of his neck. “uh… couple times a week too, i guess. but it’s tricky on tour, y’know? not a lot of privacy when you’re sharing a bus with others.”

you raised a brow, the corner of your mouth tugging up. “oh my god, you’ve been walked in on, haven’t you?”

and his cheeks flushed instantly, a deep, satisfying pink. “hann.”

that was it—you were gone, full-on laughing, your body shaking so hard you nearly toppled over. the weed didn’t do you any favours. “hann? no way. what did he do?”

“just… stared,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand. “and then, after a solid five seconds of the most soul-crushing silence, he goes, ‘at least close the door next time, mate.’”

“poor adam. scarred for life.”

“poor me,” he countered, but his voice was softer this time, the kind that slid under your skin and lingered. your fingers found his curls again, and he didn’t protest, just let you touch him like it was something that was meant to happen. the air around you shifted, heavier somehow, the haze of smoke thickening it.

you weren’t sure who moved first, but his head turned slightly, his cheek pressing against your thigh, and suddenly you were all too aware of every point of contact between you. his curls against your hand, the warmth radiating from him, the way your own body was buzzing, humming with something you still didn’t want to name. you adjusted your position, trying to ease the growing ache low in your stomach, but it didn’t help. not when he was right there.

“when’s the last time you had sex?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted it. your voice sounded too curious, like you actually cared about the answer. which, of course, you did, you just didn’t want him to know.

he laughed, a short, sad sound. “been months.”

that caught you off guard. “really? but you’re matty.”

“yeah, and?” he looked up at you, his eyes almost amused. “what, you think i’m shagging my way through the world or something?”

“kinda,” you admitted with a shrug. “i mean, isn’t that, like, part of the job?”

“not really my thing,” his voice was quieter now. “done it a couple times, but… i don’t know. feels a bit shit after. not worth it.”

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything, just let your fingers keep moving over his scalp. he reached for your hand after a moment, his thumb brushing over the rings you wore. it was a small, mindless gesture, but it made your chest tighten all the same.

“what about you?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“a few months ago,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on where his hand held yours. “with my ex.”

he nodded, his thumb still tracing the curve of your ring. “sorry. about him.”

“don’t be,” you said quickly, trying to push past the lump in your throat. “i’m better off.”

he didn’t respond, just gave you a faint smile that said he understood in a way words couldn’t. the silence stretched between you again, the static of the record the only sound. his fingers kept brushing over your hand, and every now and then you caught him shifting, adjusting his position on the floor.

you stared at him for a long moment, your mind racing, the words forming before you could stop them. “you ever think maybe…”

he turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing. “maybe what?”

“maybe we could, i don’t know…” you hesitated, your pulse thundering so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out your voice. “help each other out. just… take the edge off.”

he froze, mid-drag. his brows furrowed, his eyes sharp even through the haze of smoke. “you’re fucking with me now.”

“i’m not,” you said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice came out. “just think about it. no big deal. two friends helping each other out.”

“you’re actually joking.” his voice cracked on the last word, which would’ve been funny if your heart wasn’t beating so fast.

“i’m not,” you leaned back, feigning nonchalance as your heart clawed its way into your throat. “we’re both adults. both single. both… frustrated.”

“frustrated,” he repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air. “and this is your solution?”

“it’s a solution,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly. “what, you’ve got a better idea?”

he laughed, but it wasn’t his usual easy, warm laugh. this one was stilted, like he wasn’t sure if he found this funny or terrifying. “this feels like some teenage bullshit, honestly. like, next you’re gonna ask me to pinky swear it won’t ruin our friendship.”

“oh, grow up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “it’s not that deep.”

but it was. at least for you. the idea had been sitting at the edge of your mind for months, years now, clawing its way forward every time he looked at you with those big, earnest eyes that made your chest feel too tight. maybe it was the weed, or the way he was looking at you now, like you’d just flipped his world upside down, but for the first time, the thought slipped out into the open.

“you’re not worried it’ll get weird?” 

“doesn’t have to,” you said, your heart still jackhammering with every syllable. “it’s just… an itch to scratch. no strings. no awkward aftermath. unless, you know, you’re not into it.”

he scoffed, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. “don’t put this on me. you’re the one who started it.”

“and i’ll end it if you want,” you said quickly, your pulse racing as he turned his head to look at you. “just say the word.”

but he didn’t say the word. he just stared at you, his gaze softer now, less sharp but still so him. like he was trying to figure out if you were serious—or maybe if he was.

“i don’t know,” he muttered finally, sitting back against the couch now. “this is… fucking mental.”

“you’re overthinking it,” you forced a small smile. “like you always do.”

“and you’re underthinking it,” he shot back with no real heat. “like you always do.”

“that’s why we’re friends, isn’t it?” you smirked, though the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you inhale properly. “we balance each other out.”

he let out a feeble laugh, his head tipping back against the sofa, exposing the curve of his neck. your fingers itched to touch him again, but this time with the excuse of… what, exactly? this favour you’d just proposed? it sounded ridiculous when he said it, but deep down, part of you wondered if you’d suggested it for more than just convenience. part of you wondered if it was because you’d always wanted to be his, but you’d never been brave enough to find out if he wanted the same.

“you’re sure about this?” his voice cut through your thoughts, softer now but still laced with that edge of uncertainty. “like, really sure?”

“yeah,” you said, even though you weren’t entirely sure of anything anymore. “are you?”

he didn’t answer right away, just took a long drag and stared at the ceiling like it might have some hidden wisdom to offer. “fuck,” he muttered, finally exhaling. “yeah, okay. fine. let’s do it.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how quickly the air shifted between you. “wait, really?”

“don’t make me say it again,” he muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips now. “but, like… no weird shit tomorrow, okay?”

“no weird shit tomorrow,” you promised, though the words felt hollow even as you said them. the truth was, everything about this already felt weird. not bad weird—just… heavy. 

“good,” he took another hit, holding it for a moment before passing it to you. “so… how do we start this?”

you took the joint from him, your fingers brushing his as you brought it to your lips. the air felt too warm, the space between you now way too small. “i don’t know,” you exhaled slowly. “you’re the one with all the bright ideas.”

“oh, i’m the one with bright ideas?” he let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “this was your idea, babe.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your lips twitched. “fine. guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

he smiled then, that small, weird smile that always made your chest ache. “wing it, huh? sounds about right for us.”

the tension hung heavy between, your gaze flicking to his lips before darting away. his hand brushed your knee, a casual, almost thoughtless gesture, but it made you freeze in place. your lungs pounded in your chest as you passed the joint back to him, your fingertips trembling slightly.

“just… promise me one thing,” he said finally, his voice almost hesitant.

“what’s that?” your own barely above a whisper.

“promise me this won’t mess us up.” he wasn’t looking at you now, his gaze fixed on the blunt as he turned it over in his fingers. “because i… i don’t want to lose this. lose us.”

your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. “we won’t,” you said, the lie slipping out easily, even though you weren’t sure if you believed it. “we’re too stubborn for that.”

he laughed softly, a small, insecure sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah. too stubborn.”

-----

the two of you ended up in your bedroom. you weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here—well, you did, technically, but the reality of it was still setting in. your pants had been the first to go, leaving you in a baby tee and a thong that felt absurdly small given the circumstances. no bra, of course. matty had tugged his shirt off with practiced ease, but you caught the slight hesitation in his movements, the tension coiled in his shoulders.

and now here you were, lying side by side, your heads level on the pillows. the rules you’d managed to set earlier echoing in your mind: no getting completely naked, no penetrative sex, no kissing on the mouth. the essentials of staying detached, you’d thought, though the warmth radiating from his body told you this was anything but.

his face was so close, just inches away, his gaze darting between yours and the ceiling like he wasn’t sure where to settle. your own focus wandered, tracing the line of his jaw, the faint scruff dotting his chin, the steady rise and fall of his chest. everything about him felt sharp and tangible, and the haze of being high didn’t soften it nearly enough.

you reached out before you could overthink it, your fingers slipping into his hair the way they had so many times that night. he let out a quiet breath, his eyes fluttering closed almost immediately. the sound sent a thrill down your limbs, and you let your touch drift lower, tracing the back of his neck.

“you like that?” it felt like a stupid question. he always leaned into your touch. still, tonight you needed his confirmation.

his nod was small, almost imperceptible.

you lingered there, your thumb grazing his skin in slow, deliberate circles. you could feel how stiff he was, the way his body held itself just a little too still. “you’re nervous,” you murmured. it wasn’t accusatory—just an observation.

his lips curved into the faintest, self-deprecating smile. “yeah. a bit.”

“we don’t have to do this,” your voice low and steady. “i mean it, matty. say the word, and we’ll stop.”

his eyes stayed shut a moment longer before he opened them, looking at you like he was trying to make up his mind. “no, i—” he paused, licking his lips. “just… need a second to get out of my head.”

you smiled softly, your thumb skimming along his jaw as you gave him the time he needed. silence filled the space between you, but you didn’t let go, your fingertips tracing his face like you were committing it to memory for the first time. the slight arch of his brows, the slope of his nose, the hollow of his cheek—everything that had always been familiar but somehow felt brand new at this second.

when your thumb brushed over his lips, his eyes met yours again, darker now but still impossibly tender. he caught your hand in his, his fingers wrapping loosely around yours, and pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. it was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a spark to your toes.

“what about you? what do you like?”

the question made your stomach flip, and you laughed nervously, biting your lip. “you’re gonna make me spell it out?”

“maybe.” there was something behind his voice—something tentative, like he didn’t quite trust himself. “just… help me out here.”

“okay, okay,” you said, your laughter fading into something quieter. you guided his hand to your side, just below your ribs. “like this, start here.”

his palm settled on your skin, warm and solid, his fingers spreading wide as if trying to feel every inch of you at once. his thumb traced the curve of your ribs, slow and tentative, and your breath hitched as your body leaned into him without a thought in your brain.

“like that?” 

you nodded, your head sinking deeper into the pillow as you let out a shaky laugh. “yeah. like that.”

his touch stayed light, his hand moving in lazy, meandering paths along your side. when his fingers skimmed your spine, your body arched slightly, the sensation making you shiver. the room was impossibly still, save for the sound of your gasping. you let yourself sink into the feeling, your eyes closing as his hand pressed firmer, the heat of him searing into your skin.

your own touch moved instinctively, sliding from the nape of his neck to his chest, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his tattoo. you paused at the heart inked over his skin, following its shape carefully, reverently, like it might crack under too much pressure. “this one’s always been my favourite,” you murmured, almost shy. you weren’t sure if it was okay to admit it out loud. 

his lips twitched into a faint smile, a quiet laugh escaping him. “you were there when i got it. squeezed your hand so hard i thought i’d break it.”

“you were being a baby about it,” you teased, though the memory made you grin. “all that whining over a needle.”

“so what? it hurt like hell.”

“mmhmm. sure it did.”

your hand wandered lower, brushing over the ridges of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down from his navel. his muscles tightened under your touch, and then—god—he let out the softest moan, barely audible but enough to make your heart ache.

your fingers stilled for just a moment before your gaze flicked up to his face. his eyes were closed, his jaw tight, his mouth slightly open like he was trying to hold himself steady. his hand came up suddenly, catching yours. for a second, you thought he was going to stop you, but instead, he guided your arm around him, pulling you closer until your chest pressed against his. his face buried itself in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel every exhale ripple through you.

“matty,” you whispered, unsure of what you even wanted to say. your fingers curled instinctively into his back, your nails dragging lightly against his skin. goosebumps rose under your touch, the realization that you’d done that sending your head spinning.

then his lips grazed your collarbone—barely, just the faintest hint of a kiss. it felt more like a question than an answer, but it shattered something inside you all the same. he kissed you again, and again, his mouth moving along the slope of your shoulder, each one feather-light yet impossible to ignore. your head fell back against the pillow, a satisfied sound escaping your throat—not quite a moan, but damn close.

his name hovered on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it again. not yet. your body moved on instinct instead, your leg sliding over his until you were tangled together, the press of him against you making it nearly impossible to concentrate. 

“you’re—” his voice was rough, muffled against your skin as his lips kept moving. “you’re making it really fucking hard to stick to the stupid rules right now.”

“you’re one to talk,” your voice coming out breathless as your hand slid back into his hair. “you’re the one kissing me.”

“not on the mouth,” he countered, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. “that was the rule, wasn’t it?”

“semantics,” and you gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, light but sharp enough to send a shockwave through you.

whatever restraint had been holding the two of you back started slipping, unraveling faster than you could catch it. his hands roamed now—your waist, your ribs, your hips—like he couldn’t decide where to stop. your body arched into him, you gasped rapidly, your skin tingling with every touch. it was like stepping into some unspoken, forbidden space, a place neither of you could—or wanted to—leave.

his palm slid lower, curving over your ass, his fingers squeezing lightly at first, testing. the moment they dug in, the air caught in your lungs, your body going rigid for just a second. he halted immediately, his hand retreating like he’d been burned.

“shit, ’m sorry. i—”

“don’t stop,” you interrupted, your voice trembling but sure. you shifted closer, your leg brushing against his thigh as you said it again. “don’t stop. please.”

he didn’t need any more convincing. his hand was back, firmer this time, gripping and kneading, his touch bolder now that he knew it wouldn’t scare you off. you felt his thumb hook under the waistband of your thong, tugging it just enough to stretch, then letting it snap back into place. it was nothing, really, but the deliberate tease of it—the knowledge of how close he was—drew a low moan from you before you could catch it.

“fuck.” his hips pressed forward against you, seeking something, anything, to take the edge off. the weight of him, even through his pants, made your head spin, the haze of your high amplifying every sensation until it felt like you might float right out of your body. his hips moved again, slower this time, but there was no mistaking his intent—the pressure of him, hard and insistent against your hip, set every inch of you alight.

you shifted, needing something to hold onto, and your hands found their way to his neck. you tugged gently, drawing his face closer until your lips were grazing the curve of his throat. you kissed him there, soft and slow against his skin. his jaw tensed beneath your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile as you worked your way up, your mouth brushing over his ear.

“remember when you told me you liked this?” your lips caught the lobe, your teeth grazing it lightly before you sucked it into your mouth.

and that’s when he completely lost it.

his grunt was low and guttural and his hips jerked forward sharply, grinding against you. his hand tightened on your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to promise bruises tomorrow. you couldn’t bring yourself to care—not when his other hand was sliding up your side, his fingers gripping your ribs like he was trying to steady himself. 

“fuck,” he rasped, his head dropping forward, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “you’re—shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

“you’re the one grinding on me,” you shot back, though your voice was only a whisper. you slid your leg over his again, hooking it around his hip to pull him closer. the movement dragged a sharp gasp from him, the sound muffled against your skin, and the way he reacted—like he couldn’t get enough of you—made you grateful for suggesting this precarious idea in the first place.

his hips moved faster now as he pressed against you through the rough fabric of his jeans. it wasn’t enough—not for him, not for you—but the friction was good, so good, and you felt yourself arching into him, your body moving on instinct.

you tilted your head back, gasping as his lips found your collarbone again, his mouth soft and hot as he kissed his way down to the curve of your shoulder. his breath was ragged, uneven, brushing against your skin in bursts as he muttered something you couldn’t quite make out. you wanted to ask, but then his teeth grazed your skin and everything in you short-circuited.

“matty,” his name slipping out like a prayer. you weren’t sure what you wanted—his mouth, his hands, all of him—but you knew you needed more. your hand moved to his wrist, guiding it upward. you pressed his palm against your breast, the thin fabric of your tee doing little to mask the heat of him.

his hips stiled for a moment as he stared down at where his hand was now. “fuck me,” his voice trembled as his thumb brushed over you experimentally. his gaze flicked up to yours, his eyes dark and glassy, lips parted slightly. “you are gonna be the death of me, baby.”

you let out a faint laugh, your hand still resting over his, encouraging him to move. “then stop overthinking and touch me.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hand squeezed gently, his thumb circling over your nipple through your shirt, and the feeling—his hand, his touch, the way he was looking at you like you were something to be worshipped—made you start coming undone. he let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky and uncertain. “jesus, you’re—”

“you talk too much,” you muttered, pulling him back down to you, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear. the tension between you was unbearable now. a thread pulled so tight it could snap at any given moment. 

his hand squeezed your breast as his head dipped lower, his lips brushing over your throat, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to learn your body. the heat of his breath sent goosebumps racing across your skin, and by the time his mouth found its way down to your chest, you were already aching for him.

he paused, hovering just above your nipple, his face half-hidden by your shirt as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “can i?” he was barely holding himself together.

you nodded, biting your lip, your fingers slipping into his hair to pull him closer. “please.”

the second his mouth closed over you, even through the thin fabric of your shirt, your back arched, a soft gasp slipping out before you could stop it. his lips worked slowly, testing you, his tongue brushing over your nipple before his teeth grazed it lightly.

“fuck, matty. that—feels so good.”

“yeah?” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he moved to your other breast. he sucked harder this time, his teeth catching just enough to make you gasp again, your hands tightening in his damp curls. he alternated between the two, making sure not to neglect either while savoring every single sound you made.

the room felt impossibly hot, and so did he. you could feel the sweat slicking his skin, sticking to yours, and it should’ve been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. it was perfect. raw and messy and real, and you were so fucking turned on you could hardly think straight. 

“don’t stop,” you urged him closer. you didn’t care that your shirt was clinging to your tits now, soaked with his sweat and spit. it was intoxicating—the heat of him, the way his mouth moved against you, the little sounds he made as he pleased you.

every now and then, he glanced up at you with lips swollen and pupils blown wide. and that look—fucked-out and so completely focused on you—made your heart stutter, your chest tightening with that thing again. you didn’t let yourself think about it too much. you couldn’t.

the tension was building, unbearable, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. you fumbled blindly for your drawer. matty didn’t stop, his mouth still on you, but you could feel him pause for a second, his hand tightening on your hip.

“what’re you doing?” he muttered against your breast, his voice muffled, almost distracted.

“just—give me a bit.”

you finally found what you were looking for. you pulled out a vibrator and grabbed his hand, pressing it into his palm. “make me come,” you whispered. “please.”

his head lifted, his hair a mess, his lips shiny and red. he stared at the toy in his hand like it was some foreign object before his gaze flicked back to yours, his brows furrowed. “oh my fucking god,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. but then he nodded eagerly, “okay, baby. yeah. i’ve got you. i’ve got you, darling.”

matty laid you back against the pillows, his movements more deliberate as his lips found yours for a fraction of a second—just a brush, not a kiss, but enough to make you both pause. you swore you saw a flicker of longing in his eyes. perhaps you were imagining things given what was happening. given that your best friend was now currently kissing down your body, his lips trailing along from your chest to your stomach, grazing the sensitive skin there before his tongue darted out. you squirmed under him, your hips lifting slightly, but he held you down with firm hands on your hips.

he moved lower, his weight shifting as he settled between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart gently, his lips finding the inside of one and kissing his way upward.

then you heard the familiar buzz of the vibrator. he pressed it to the inside of your thigh first, the sensation soft and teasing. “this okay?” 

you nodded quickly, gripping the sheets beneath you. “yes. please.”

he smirked, dragging the toy slowly up your thigh before pressing it against your clit through your underwear. the vibrations hit immediately, and your hips jerked as a moan slipped from your lips. he kept the pressure light at first, moving the silicon toy in small circles, watching you closely the entire time.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” he murmured, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. his free hand stroked your thigh softly, grounding you even as the vibrations sent shivers up every bone of your spine.

he dragged the toy lower, sliding it through your clothed core, making you squirm. his head was now resting against your thigh as he teased you. “feel good?” 

“yes.” your fingers twisted in the sheets almost uncontrollably. “fuck, matty, it feels so good.”

he kept it up for a while, working you up mercilessly as you felt your underwear get drenched because of him. every now and then, he pressed it firmly against your clit, holding it there just long enough to make you gasp before pulling it away again. it drove you absolutely insane. every movement felt precise. he seemed to know exactly how to keep you tethered on the fucking edge.

and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away entirely. you whined, your hips lifting instinctively, but then you felt his fingers hooking under the waistband of your thong. he glanced up at you, his eyes dark and questioning, and you nodded quickly, helping him slide it off.

the cool air hit you, and for a moment you felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his eyes raked over you—reverent, almost in awe—eased the knot inside of you.

“jesus christ,” his voice barely audible, you almost didn’t catch it. “you’re perfect.”

he turned the vibrator back on, pressing it directly to your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, your hips bucking against him. he didn’t stop, didn’t pull back this time, just kept the vibrations steady as he dragged it up and down your warmth.

his hand shifted, pressing the plastic against your entrance, holding it there just long enough to make you tremble. the sensation was soft but relentless. “can i?” and those simple words sent a ripple of heat to your core.

you nodded quickly, unable to find your voice.

he pressed it in slowly, the toy stretching you inch by inch. the drag was agonizingly good, the ache sharp and perfect. your head tipped back against the pillow, lips parting as your breath caught. he didn’t rush it, watching because you knew he couldn’t help himself, his mouth hanging open slightly as it disappeared into you.

your hips tilted toward him, desperate for more, and when it was finally all the way in, he paused to ensure you were alright, that it wasn’t too much.

“don’t stop.”

he started to move, slow at first, the toy sliding in and out of you with an almost maddening rhythm. your thighs trembled against his grip, your entire body hypersensitive to the push and pull of him. the haze of your high blurred the edges of everything else until all that remained was matty and the relentless pace he set.

the thrusts grew deeper, faster, and you felt the faint roll of his hips against the mattress. the sight of him, flushed and desperate, grinding down for his own relief while his focus stayed entirely on you, made heat pool low in your stomach. he was swearing under his breath now, little fragments spilling out between wobbly breaths. 

then his mouth was on you, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before he sucked gently, pulling a broken sound from deep in your chest. it wasn’t enough—not even close—but when he found his rhythm, licking you slow and deliberate in time with the toy, you swore you could’ve died right then and there and that would’ve been alright. 

your hands flew to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “fuck, matty.” his lips curved against you, smug even, but it didn’t matter because his tongue flicked over you again, then again, until you couldn’t think straight.

when he started sucking, harder this time, you bucked against his face, completely out of your control. he groaned into you, the sound rippling through your core. it was filthy, the way he worked you—his mouth, the vibrator, the subtle roll of his hips against the bed. 

his teeth grazed your clit, light but sharp enough to send a jolt through your entire body as you yelped. he froze for half a second, pulling back just enough to mutter, “shit. sorry—”

“don’t care,” your body already arching toward him again. “just—don’t stop.”

he didn’t. if anything, he got bolder, his lips dragging over your bud before his tongue circled it in ways that had your thighs quivering. ever so often, he’d wipe his mouth against your thigh before diving back in, as if he couldn’t eat you out enough. it was messy, overwhelming, like he was making out with your cunt because he couldn’t kiss you properly, and you fucking loved it. no one had ever touched you like this. he wanted to ruin you just as much as you wanted to be ruined. completely and utterly.

you couldn’t stop convulsing, couldn’t stop moaning, your hands grabbing at anything—his shoulders, the sheets, your own hair—just to keep yourself grounded. the toy inside you was relentless, his rhythm perfect, and his mouth—god, his perfect mouth—was almost too much. he was groaning into you now, grinding harder against the sheets attempting to chase his own orgasm. 

“fuck,” he muttered again, his voice muffled against your skin. he sounded completely gone, like he was drowning in you, and that sent you hurtling over the edge. your whole body tensed as the pleasure crashed into you, sharp and overwhelming. his name spilled from your lips in broken gasps, and he didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and the toy still working you through it.

he only pulled back when your thighs started trembling uncontrollably, his lips swollen, his face shiny, his chest heaving like he’d just run one hundred thousand miles. he looked absolutely wrecked, and it was the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen.

you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, still lightheaded from the aftershocks as you reached for him with shaky but determined hands. “fuck it,” you were barely coherent, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up.

“wait—what—” he started, but you didn’t let him finish. your lips crashed into his, messy and desperate, and your world came crumbling to a halt when he froze. you thought you’d messed up everything. but when you felt his body melt into yours and finally kiss you back, it was everything and more than you had dreamed of all those lonely nights ago. his lips parted against yours, his hands sliding up to cradle your face like he, matty himself, was terrified you might disappear. like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

he shifted, bringing your heads level on the pillows, his mouth never leaving yours. the kiss was fast and uncoordinated, a little too much teeth and tongue, but you didn’t care. it was perfect. you muttered his name against his lips, and he answered with yours, his voice heavenly and breathless.

matty’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not until you were gasping for air, your lips now puffy and bruised. his forehead dropped to yours, your breaths mingling in the silence that followed, but his hands never left you, still holding on. maybe he wasn’t ready to let go.

his lips barely left yours, back to kiss you over and over again, just like two horny teenages who wanted to devour each other because it was all so new. when his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging just enough to draw a pathetic whimper from you, your palm slipped between your bodies, brushing over the rigid line of him beneath his jeans. the second you touched him, his hips jerked sharply, and he let out a sound—desperate, so devastatingly beautiful it made you whole.

you touched him again, harder this time, and he whined again, another sharp, broken noise that sent a thrill straight to your gut. you’d never seen him like this—so undone, so out of control—and you just needed more. 

“help me,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the button of his jeans. “i can’t—just—help.”

he swore under his breath, fumbling with the button with clumsy digits. he got it undone after what felt like an eternity, the zipper catching slightly before it finally gave way. but he didn’t pull them down, didn’t even try. instead, his hands were back on you, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer like he needed your lips to stay alive. “should’ve done this years ago,” he muttered between kisses, his words slurring together. “fuck—wanted you for so fucking long.”

your heart raced, your chest tightening at the weight of his words, but you didn’t have time to process them. your hand slipped inside his boxers, wrapping around him, and the groan that tore out of him made you clench. he was burning under your palm, thick and hard, and when you stroked him, his whole body shuddered.

“jesus christ,” he gasped, his forehead pressing against yours as his hips bucked into your hand. “fuck, baby, you’re—.”

you stroked him again, firmer this time, your fingers sliding up his length and then back down, the slickness of him making it easier. “you’re so hard,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

his head tipped back, his jaw tight, his mouth falling open as another moan ripped through him. he wasn’t holding back, wasn’t trying to be quiet at all, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever heard. “can’t fucking help it,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “you—fuck—you don’t even know.”

“then show me,” you murmured, your hand working him faster now, matching the frantic rhythm of his hips. he swore again, louder this time, his grip digging into your waist like he was holding on for dear life.

“i’m not—” he broke off with a choked groan as your thumb brushed over the head of him. “fuck, i’m not gonna last.”

“you don’t have to,” you said sweetly. “it’s okay. just let go.”

he groaned again, his hips snapping forward, twitching in your hand as you stroked him faster. his body was a mess, his skin slick with sweat, and every breath he took was uneven, his whole chest heaving as he chased his high. you kept going, your pace relentless, until he finally broke, a loud, growling moan spilling out of him as he came. 

it was warm and sticky on your fingers, but you didn’t stop, not until he was completely spent, his body twitching in the aftermath. “shit,” he managed finally, “fuck, ‘m sorry, i—”

“don’t apologize,” you interrupted, leaning in to kiss him again, “please don’t.”

he sighed into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle your face as he kissed you back. when you finally pulled away, just enough to catch your breath, he pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours. “what the fuck are we doing?”

your heart ached, your chest tight as you stared at him, his face so close to yours it felt like the world had disappeared. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i don’t want to stop.”

“me either,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before kissing you again.

it was slower now, lazier, but just as intoxicating. his hands stayed on your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he kissed you deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. your body melted into his, the heat of him, the weight of him, grounding you in a way that felt both impossible and completely inevitable.

you were dizzy, hazy, every nerve in your body still buzzing from what had just happened. but for the first time in years, you felt completely, utterly content. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. with him. always him. 

then you made the mistake of resting your come-covered hand on his back, and he groaned, his body jerking slightly. “oh, god,” he muttered, his voice half-laugh, half-whine.

you couldn’t help but giggle, your head dropping back against the pillow. “sorry.” you didn’t sound sorry at all, though.

“you’re disgusting,” he teased, but his lips twitched into a soft smile as he leaned in to kiss you again. it was even slower this time, deeper. and you let him. you let yourself sink into the warmth of him.

this was it. this was everything. and for the first time, it was yours. he was yours.

[americankimchi]

dragon age veilguard review: spoilers for the entire game ahead

alright now that it's been a few days and i've had time to 1) get over the honeymoon phase and 2) really think on the game beyond the emotional high of the endgame mission/endgame choice, i can finally type this up

my final score for this game is 8/10, if you just care about that part and wanna skip the rest.

preface, i've only finished one playthrough as an elf mage grey warden, and played every companion/region quest*/side objective to completion**.

i played it on the underdog difficulty and it took me ~74 hours (i left the game open and went to do something else a few times, so it should probably read closer to ~70). this is a screenshot of the final auto-save after i beat the game

veeery long review under the cut ✌️

*exception being minrathous since i picked treviso instead, so the region quests got shafted

**didn't find all the chests or all the collectables, but i got close. also, i missed neve's first companion outing because i forgot to do it prior to the minrathous/treviso choice and didn't realize recruiting davrin was a cut-off point. aside from that i finished every quest i could grab my hands on.

OKAY SO i want to start this off by saying that i thoroughly enjoyed this game, enough to want to replay it again (i currently have two concurrent playthroughs as a dwarf shadow dragon and a human antivan crow going) and will probably be modding it to high heavens once that boat gets sailing, and that i believe it deserves that 8/10 score with all my heart. it was a great time.

that being said.

DIALOGUE REACTIVITY BASED OFF CHARACTER CREATION:

anyone who plays dragon age veilguard and only veilguard is getting a very surface level experience of what thedas is/has to offer culturally. i'm saying this because the excuse being "this is tevinter, why would it be the same as the southern half of thedas" isn't enough to explain a lot of gaping holes in the game's setting.

for instance, i played as an ELF MAGE GREY WARDEN in the middle of TEVINTER during a massive catastrophe brought about by the returned "ELVEN GODS"

having played all the games prior to dav, i did so because i knew that there would be

high tension with my PC being an elf in the notoriously cruel-to-elves country of tevinter, the old empire of which caused the fall of arlathan, and who enslaves elves to the point of it being a huge story beat for a previous companion (fenris)

a mage in a magocracy, where the script is flipped between mages and templars as compared to the south which recently went through years of a mage-templar war

a grey warden - their relevancy in thedas ended around 10 years ago due to corypheus basically tricking them all into hearing their calling, and 22 years prior veilguard during the fifth blight. at the beginning of the game, being a grey warden is more of a coincidental occupation than a narrative beat like it is in origins, but there's always something going on with the wardens so i picked it as a 'i'll pick this to experience the game first and then go for what i suspect is the best narratively relevant origin for my second playthrough' option

of the three descriptors, ELF/MAGE/GREY WARDEN, which do you think had the most story-relevant screen time?

that's right.

the grey warden one.

i won't say that there was nothing about being a mage, but i can remember probably on one hand where the option to chime in as a mage was relevant to what was being spoken about. (a conversation about spite, a conversation about scout harding's new abilities, and if there were more they weren't memorable enough for me to recall off the top of my head) which was fine on paper if you don't know anything about dragon age's entire deal wrt mages. i believe the only real mention about tensions between mages and templars happened in minrathous when we met up with neve's templar friend rana. i think the line reads something like "oh templars are just here to make sure the magic doesn't go out of hand. we don't even take lyrium like our southern counterparts" and then the game moves on to other things

which is crazy considering just how seriously the mage vs templar conflict was being leaned into for the previous three games, enough to the point where i was getting absolutely sick and tired of hearing about it. well the monkey's paw curls a finger because not only did i not hear about it, it felt like it never even happened.

TO BE FAIR: we're playing in tevinter (and antiva. and rivain. and the hossberg wetlands. and—well, you get the idea) and there's a general air of tevinter snooty superiority when they consider the 'south', so perhaps it wasn't fair for me to think "oh, they'd talk about it right? they'd bring it up more than once", but my being a mage seemed to just not even register for any characters in tevinter. not that i wanted them to roll out the red carpet or anything, but i can't remember a single moment where an NPC was like "oh right, you're a mage too". maybe they did, and i just don't remember it. but it didn't seem to matter at all.

but alright whatever, if we want to write that off as being "we're in tevinter. that has no bearing on circumstances here because it's a MAGOCRACY" fine i'll let it slide.

but the fact that my being an ELF didn't seem to be a Huge Deal when in tevinter threw me for a fucking loop. was there some sort of massive societal upheaval in the ten years between dragon age inquisition (dorian: i thought keeping slaves was fine as long as you treat them well) to veilguard (i found a single codex entry of a letter where dorian says "hey guys. we should stop keeping slaves. like genuinely what the fuck is wrong with us for even doing that in the first place") but the fact that NOBODY SEEMS TO BLINK AN EYE at my rook's elven heritage. ESPECIALLY since the main antagonists of this game are ALL ELVEN GODS seems like a wildly missed opportunity to introduce some tension. UNJUSTIFIED TENSION, but tension nonetheless.

the wardens had a lot of content, which both surprised and delighted me thoroughly. i'll never speak a word against them of course, and i did love how it showed that the wardens were here to do a job, and not play nice about it. the first warden was, in my humble opinion, one of the best characters in the entire game. annoying, gruff, called my rook warden basically the equivalent of a stupid rhino in a china shop not knowing what's best for the wardens/their oaths and impulsive in a way detrimental to everyone in his surroundings. literally one of my favorite lines happens when he and rook are beefing in the middle of the cobbled swan:

like. that was so satisfying.

the fact that the first warden isn't a villain, he's actually a fantastic grey warden. he'd sacrifice himself to kill an archdemon, and in fact "steals the glory" for himself. like was he an asshole during that exchange? yes, but it's undeniable that he was going to his death voluntarily and with a grim fervor. that's peak grey warden. nobody can say he'd ever shirk his duty. his character flaw was that he's a terrible leader, has the military tactics of a damp slice of toast, and generally doesn't inspire his subordinates to feel any sort of true loyalty to him. see here where my rook aggressively relieves him of duty and after a tense exchange where it seems like combat is about to start, evka saves the day by taking charge. and she does take charge pretty quick. nobody seems to really oppose the real quick promotion.

and then it's back to business as usual. archdemon trapping, anyone?

which was a problem i had with other factions in the game, namely the antivan crows. like yes, not every group is a monolith sharing the same ideals/morals/etc. but having played dragon age origins close to two decades prior where a massive point of contention was between zevran and the crows and the trauma that came from his upbringing as a crow... to then get thrown into treviso to see that the house we're dealing with is a bunch of leathery robin hoods was an unexpected turn. like. guys? weren't they villains? why are we all relatively good people (barring illario) here??? if anything, i thought that there'd be more politicking and backstabbing (literally and figuratively) but everything here seems kinda...... harmonious in comparison to whatever the fuck house arainai was doing. i might have missed a codex entry (i didn't read them all) explaining why the tonal shift happened, like maybe someone somewhere wrote about how house arainai imploded post-fifth blight when a crow went, well, rogue, and exposed the crows for the literal torture they put CHILDREN through, but nothing. like the game straight up lets an NPC whose name escapes me form a new house composed OF children at the end. like. what........ this isn't neverland, why are we forming the lost boys with knives here. hello??

on the other hand, i feel like the wardens had more options to expand on the fact that uh. yeah. grey wardens don't come from great backgrounds. like when you could conscript the mayor of d'meta's crossing much to everyone's displeasure, or the first warden actively being an obstacle to real progress (but not a villain! just extremely blind to the real dangers!), etc. etc. still not great in terms of "we employ literal murderers and criminals of every kind so we can toss them in the direction of darkspawn as a literal meat shield for thedas" but at least it's something.

but i digress. back to the point:

felt like the amount of dialogue options i had where i could bring up my warden expertise not only outstripped the mage/elf tags, but was so prevalent that sometimes it felt like the game was specifically catered to me being a grey warden. this is obviously just because i haven't played enough of the other origins to really feel out how much content they have in comparison, and it's partially just because of how obviously biased i am towards them as a group, but the FLAVOR of being a grey warden was present wherever i went. we'll see how well this opinion holds up after i finish my other two playthroughs.

THE COMBAT:

genuinely the best combat in the series. the fact that you can dodge-roll and more importantly PARRY in this game is an unexpected boon that i can't praise bioware enough for. the abilities themselves are smooth, the detonations provide a nice chunk of damage AND crowd control where you can just unload, and the damage types/weaknesses being a genuinely relevant part of the game to the point where if you have a lightning abilities/weapons equipped and you're facing down a hoard of antaam, you're going to have an extremely bad time*.

* on higher difficulties. i've heard on lower ones that it doesn't matter and you can just brute force your way through the game

i will say the "quick recovery" doesn't feel quick at all, even if i'm hitting the button for it frame-perfect, i can still get knocked down as the animation for quick recovery is going off, which was annoying. would've liked the i-frames to have saved me from getting turned into paste by the three ogres punching me down at the same time but alas.

also, they tend to target you even if you have a warrior (davrin/taash) on the team. unless you're actively casting taunt, they will run past your party members to hammer down on you. which was. annoying.

STILL I LOVED THE COMBAT, i went spellblade as a mage and my build was absolutely disgusting at the end. with a combination of fully stacked out duration+strike abilities, arcane bomb stacking abilities/weapons, and not even glancing at the other two trees for the majority of the game, i felt like i was a rogue that could conveniently cast chain lightning. it was crazy fun.

but also a steep learning curve. mythal took me 17 entire real life minutes to beat. LMAO.

i love that you don't need to restart the game if you want to play a different subclass, you can just refund your skill points and explore the game to your heart's content that way. not that i did, i picked one tree and stuck to it the entire game come hell or high water (or a lightning resistant high dragon 10 levels above me) and i had a blast with it.

THE STORY (THE EVANURIS, ROOK, & VARRIC):

hooooo boy. okay. this is going to be about the MAIN STORY ONLY, companion and region specific stuff will be in its own section later.

the writing for the main story was actually pretty enjoyable the further along in the game i got. every single main story mission was an incredibly cinematic experience; my favorite being the siege at weisshaupt mission—but only because it's kind of hard to quantify the endgame section as a 'mission' when it felt like an entire act on its own.

the amount of personality rook has was a breath of fresh air, and the voice acting for male british rook (alex jordan, who also coincidentally voices my favorite character in wuthering waves: jiyan♥) was SOOOO good. every line delivered felt like it matched the scene's energy/the personality i picked, so the flow of dialogue felt natural enough to be part of a tv show or movie.

although i do wish there was more option to be a little bit more of a bitch. a little rat bastard. not evil because i don't think dragon age would ever let you be evil in the way owlcat games lets you turn into a literal swarm of bugs consuming all (including companions) in its path, i thought there'd be a chance to be like. well. a little mean to people. i can be rude, but not mean. if that makes sense.

i do feel that rook was done a disservice by not having a hawke-like session 0 where we can see, precisely, why they're already so attached to varric and scout harding, but maybe that was left on the cutting room floor. i'm not a fan of tell don't show, so the game telling me "hey remember when you and varric did this thing that we're not going to actually show you" was pretty annoying. i wasn't expecting a dragon age origins-type prologue segment where i move through the world as a warden pre-veilguard, but i do wish we had like. a short cutscene flashback sequence or something to really immerse myself into the character. like let me put my shoes on before i start running the race!

still though rook felt really present in the story. like they slotted really nicely and smoothly into the leadership position which. i mean yeah who else, right? even though they did have plot armor in the sense that i didn't really understand (in-universe) why ghilan'nain and elgar'nan didn't just squish my rook into a pulp and scrape the dagger off the smear he became every time they came face to face... i suppose we wouldn't have a game, otherwise lolol

moving swiftly on, the boss fights felt appropriately built up to, and never did i feel like i was woefully unprepared for the task set up before me (although i must admit i was slightly taken aback by the three-headed hydra at weisshaupt. delightfully so, but it did stunlock me for a few seconds sjkhfj)

from the prologue -> endgame, i suspected something was off about varric once i realized "hey, how come nobody's talking to him anymore?" while the answer of "varric is actually a manifestation in rook's mind caused by solas trying to mold him into someone who could replace solas in the fade prison he crafted" was admittedly beyond the scope of what i came up with:

1. everyone in this game is a monumental asshole (funny, but disappointing narratively)

or

2. he died but bc he died next to the fade magic + we live in the fade now he's just a ghost only rook can see?? (true, but to the left)

i didn't really consider solas had a hand in it which is funny as hell considering. well. blood magic was mentioned at the very start of the game by solas himself

the reveal was very satisfying, and on my current playthroughs it's very entertaining to see everyone (especially solas, but my companions too) very carefully skirt the subject of varric's death by speaking about it in terms oblique enough that everyone in the know understands it as 'varric is fucking dead' vs. rook's manipulated memories understands it as 'varric is laid up in the infirmary'

the evanuris were very well designed, ghilan'nain being a creepy flesh centipede woman with tentacles and blight covering her head to toe was genuinely one of the most refreshing villain designs i've ever seen. elgar'nan was comparatively boring, but considering his whole deal is to be the elven god of tyranny having him just be a conventionally attractive man was a statement in and of itself.

their boss fights were standard, elgar'nan's being the easier of the two specifically because i wasn't trying to haul my ass through waves of darkspawn, but even ghilan'nain's wasn't that hard either considering all i really needed to to was burst some blight growths and could fully ignore the darkspawn if i wanted to. i had more trouble fighting the demon of desperation in minrathous than i did the story boss fights, but that was a trend for most games i feel. the side objectives containing the optional, harder fights and the mandatory quests softening the blow from the main story bosses so the player can get through them at a steady pace.

i do feel like the majority of the story was well written, but suffered greatly from pacing issues brought about by the format of the game itself. while there was a steady pressure brought about by the urgency needed to stop them from crafting the red lyrium dagger, the fact that i could just wander about the world picking up and completing side quests at my leisure before tackling the broader problem at hand did have me slightly confused about how long the game's time frame really was. i think it takes place over the course of a few months, or maybe a year total? if it was mentioned, it went straight over my head.

though i suppose that's a problem most RPGs have—the risk of allowing the player to have agency in picking what to do next means that. well sometimes they can spend hours trying to pick up every collectible while minrathous burns in the background.

though i did wish there was more dalish presence in a game focusing around the elven gods. like i know the veil jumpers are in the game as a faction but. they don't really feel dalish. they just feel like a bunch of archeologists who happen to be elves. a bit of a disappointment, there. also, they were constantly imperiled by something which really put a damper on the "we are also a competent group of people" vibe that i got from pretty much everyone else. the dalish aesthetic was just that, aesthetic. the veil jumpers being posted up in arlathan forest just seemed like they were there due to their occupation and not their heritage. bellara goes into it a little bit through her quest line, but i don't know. there wasn't that sense of unity and closed ranks the way it felt in da:o and da2. the less we speak of the dalish in da:i the better.

as for solas himself, i'm positive that the way you speak to him reflects his demeanor to you over the course of the game (i picked every aggressive/stoic option i possibly could, and the results i got were extremely entertaining; i have so many recorded videos of rook and solas duking it out but due to size constraints i haven't uploaded them anywhere ajkjdj) but at one point they went from "actively antagonistic" to "actively antagonistic but with begrudging respect"... on the side of solas. my rook was extremely honest about hating him every step of the way. extremely honest.

still, i loved how the game kept track of the progression of their relationship. the way every time a new talk with solas started i'd see a little "yeah last time you kept yelling at each other so we're keeping that energy" popup on the side of my screen. the way rook and solas could constantly. well i don't want to call it 'banter' because at every given point my rook would call him out on his bullshit and solas would strike back with a precise cut deep enough to bleed, watching them snipe at each other so aggressively vs. what i suspect is a much softer and more amicable conversation if you go the more diplomatic route was nice to see.

during endgame, since i completed every side objective (the solas's regrets chain of quests + the mythal encounter/fight) i had the option to:

deceive him by giving him a fake prop of his dagger

convince him to stop (unlockable by doing the aforementioned quest chain)

fuck it we ball; 1v1 me right now you bald bitch

obviously, i threw aside all other options and went for the 1v1. when i say i was HOWLING WITH LAUGHTER watching my rook go "I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS" and throw a haymaker to the face........... /wipes tear. it was beautiful. and then my rook STABBED HIM IN THE GUT, SEALING HIM INTO THE FADE FOREVER??? ten years i waited for this. ten YEARS. HALLELUJAH.

though it is very funny after all those years of seeing posts like "UMMM ACTUALLY THE VEIL SHOULD COME DOWN" and then the game is like "nah. that shit stayin up for a while" like kjHDJKLSHGFJK

anyways. i enjoyed stabbing him and watching him get yoinked into the fade. i'll do the merciful ending eventually but i had to do it to him at least once.👍

THE COMPANIONS:

though obviously i have a few characters who i enjoyed more than the others, i did like all of them!!

taash's questline was very good in terms of the cultural aspect (i can relate to feeling torn between two worlds) but the gender identity was somehow both heartwarming and. extremely awkward. it felt a little bit like watching an intro to gender studies 101 powerpoint presentation. like i suppose it was to explain the concept of being nonbinary to people who've never considered gender beyond what color cake to buy for a baby shower, but it did have me raising an eyebrow a few times. not in a bad way but in a very "this is obviously catered to people who don't know a thing about it, and i appreciate that bc it serves as a nice jumping off point for people to really get to know more, but it is a little clumsy in execution". i think my favorite scene for taash is when they're with neve in the dining room talking about how "nobody REALLY likes being a woman" and neve's just there like. oh. you sweet summer child. JKHDSKLAGHFGJ THAT WAS SO GOOD!! but i think the strongest part of their character arc was them trying to figure out who they are in relation to their cultural identity. especially the bit where they fought with their mom about it alllll the time. like where my second generation kids who don't really relate to their ethnic background at!!!!! RISE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!

the way i had to google if i was first or second gen. apparently it's "first to be natively born in a country = second gen" so i'm going with that

and the scene where they're screaming "TAMAAA" when shathann dies...... bro i teared up. i ain't ashamed about it. that was heartbreaking af.

still uh. it was kinda funny (read: eyebrow raising) that a character whose entire arc is coming to grips with multiculturalism and a break from the gender binary..... ends up being presented with a binary choice on whether or not to pursue their connections to their qunari heritage or their rivaini roots. like uh. guys. guys??? why do we have to pick??? aint the whole point of multiculturalism is that it's. uh. multicultural??? i suppose you could argue that it's the "oh you're just supporting taash into embracing a specific part of their culture, you're not really telling them to abandon the other!" but like. eh. EHHHHHHH. it didn't FEEL like that. esp. when it's presented as an either-or scenario.

THEIR PARTY BANTER WITH LUCANIS WAS THEEEE FUNNIEST SERIES OF LINES. i love those two together omg. and taash + scout harding!!! wagh!!!!

EDIT: i was gonna add a section abt the lords of fortune for taash's segment but forgot. which is very on brand bc they were forgettable at best and invisible at worst throughout the entire game. i don't want to say that they were irrelevant but like. uh. yeah. 💀💀

neve. neve neve neve. has hands down the absolute worst voice acting in the entire game. like i'm sorry to say that every single line was monotonous and genuinely lacking in any real connection to the words being said. i have to wonder if the voice actor for neve isn't used to working in a booth and more on camera, because truly with every line she spoke i became more and more disinterested with the conversation. the concept of a mage detective in the depths of minrathous rooting out corruption sounds so compelling, and it was, but unfortunately any deeper connection i could've forged with neve was hamstrung by the fact that i was bored to tears by the voice acting. even the conflict generated between my rook and neve due to him picking treviso (an obvious choice for a warden. they were going to blight the waterways) fell flat. because the lines were delivered flat. disappointing, considering how interesting the content of the game she features in is. like the sequence where i'm running through run-down ruins with NPCs tethered by their own blood jetting out of their bodies as they function as living speakerphones for a blood mage hell bent on revitalizing minrathous in her own twisted way. that's sick as hell. it WAS sick as hell. i loved every second of that. i just didn't love neve's voice acting. a shame, bc i was really excited about her pre-release. :(

scout harding's questline confused me not because of the content, but because it felt like this should've been a separate game entirely?? like why are we discussing the tranquilized titans and their horrific half-dead, half-dreaming state solely through the lens of a companion quest? why aren't we visiting orzammar or kal-sharok for more than 2 minutes and talking about the fact that the lyrium they've been mining for centuries is the blood of their ancestors?? like it's mentioned once or twice, but only during side-quests. like the solas's regrets quest chain or scout harding's companion quests. like isn't this a huge deal? why are we slotting this into a game about the elven gods?? the reveal that the evanuris essentially genocided the titans in order to craft their own bodies is a tale of horrific violence and violation and we........ just kinda. don't talk about it? after scout harding's quest is over? and the fugliest armor set known to man is unlocked? (toes. why does her armor have TOES.)

i did appreciate the fact that the game let us tell her that her anger was justified bc like. ngl if i learned all that and then the only option presented to me was to forgive the fuckers that did it i think i'd go crazy.

aside from that weirdness, scout harding is bestie. i love her. sorry that i KILLED HER OFF THOUGH!!! WHAT!!! okay unironically though i love that. i love that you can PERMANENTLY kill someone off. it adds depth. it adds STAKES. i wish more people would've died at the end. like bellara just being. fine? after being trapped in blight for who knows how long was baffling as hell. like she's not FINE but she's not dead. crazy stuff. how does being a warden sound bellara. u got a swift career change ahead of u. my rook's a warden tho he'll put in a good word for u dw

SPEAKING OF BELLARA. her questline was sad as hell but also like. how many times am i going to deal with cyrian bro like why couldn't we just knock his ass out. i know for the plot he has to keep going back to his evil masked ghost overlord anaris but like. eh.

his death scene was very sad though. bellara :((

CYRIAN UNMASKED LOWKEY....... KINDA FINE THO..... 👀

same as scout harding's i wish bellara's whole thing had more to do with the dalish. NOT THAT IT WASN'T I MEAN IT WAS ALL ABOUT BEING DALISH but it was more veil jumper than anything. man the veil jumpers were disappointing. just a faction built to fumble at any given chance. the only competent person is bellara and she's on the squad........... whole faction just fell apart without her 💀💀

bellara is my cutie pie bestie babygirl though <33 im so excited to romance her WAUGHHH even if i hate her hairstyle like girl what the hell is that on the back of your head!!!! they had to nerf her otherwise she'd be the Perfect Companion 😔💞

emmrich was sooo sweet. literally just an amiable old man on a journey to help his friends and students and his BONE SON!!!! SKELETON CHILD....... manfred my love......... unfortunately i did honor manfred's noble sacrifice and help emmrich into becoming a lich but like. that shit. feels like it should've been saved for post-game, somehow?? like in the veilguard equivalent of a trespasser or whatever. like what do you mean we just have an immortal lich companion just chillin. just vibin outta the necropolis. is that allowed?? are there other liches outside the necropolis???

???

the drip is immaculate though ngl. he easily clears everyone else's veilguard outfits <-she has only seen half of them due to only having the one finished playthrough

i didn't really use him much outside of his companion quests + fighting undead, so i don't know much about him with regards to party banter. sorry emmrich ;-;

davrin was. oh my goodness. have you ever seen a man so beautiful. the soulful brown eyes. the jawline strong enough to cut diamond. the EXPOSED CHEST. GOOD HEAVENS..... /SWOONS

literally the dreamiest dragon age companion ever like im sorry he clears literally everyone else ever made. and i say that even with zevran existing in the universe. (if silver fox zevran had at any point showed up in this game this opinion would swiftly change.)

i didn't romance him and i regret it bc i feel like there would've been something to the whole brothers in arms -> you and i are the only two people on this team who perfectly understand each other; you and i are dead men walking but we go to our blighted graves with grim smiles and clear eyes; should the calling come for one of us, it will end up claiming two, etc etc—unfortunately you recruit lucanis first and i didn't pivot 🫡

THE ONLY COMPLAINT I HAVE FOR DAVRIN: his entire arc focuses around assan. not JUST assan, like assan is the conduit through which davrin works through a lot of stuff, but it feels like. well i don't think there was a single scene where assan wasn't there. which makes sense because GRIFFONS. MY GOD. THEY'RE BACK. but also. i feel like if davrin had some space from assan in like a single mission/quest/etc. it would've been good. absence making the heart grow fonder and all. like i'd kill and die for assan but like 60% of the way through davrin's arc i was lowkey getting tired of it all being about our favorite bird son.

lucanis.... lucanis lucanis lucanis. he's the one my rook romanced and uh....... i'm gonna be honest. i wasn't really feeling like i was in a romance at all until the very end of the game. there's a line where lucanis was like "that's what i love about you" or whatever and i was like. huh? what? when was this established? i don't think we ever had a conversation or an event that would lead to this conclusion??? did i skip it? did i forget??? taps game is this thing on???

like i'm not saying the romance was BAD. (aside from some questionable animation choices. like why was lucanis standing so close to my rook like BACK UPPPPPP 😭😭)

all of the romance scenes were sweet and enjoyable and full of typical Bioware Cringe Romance Lines™ (affectionate) (honorary) but it did feel a little like. 80% of the game we had tepid to mildly reciprocal reactions to any of rook's flirtatious dialogue choices, and then when i got the choice to lock in the romance for lucanis it's like. OKAY HIT THE GAS, BUDDY! IT'S TIME TO FLOOR IT. 0->100 in an instant. i love a slowburn, but this was less of a slowburn and more me silently watching a mile long fuse burn up for like 60 hours until it thunderously explodes all at once.

unrelated but why does rook not have a bed in his room. why is it just a couch. they were suckin' n' fuckin' on an ancient elven la-z-boy in the fade. amazing stuff.

ASIDE FROM THE WEIRD PACING ISSUES I EXPERIENCED (hopefully it wasn't universal) THE ROMANCE WAS SWEET. 10/10 WOULD RECOMMEND

as for his personal character arc. why the hell did lucanis become first talon??? like speaking as someone who found out post-game that he straight up SAYS in his tevinter nights short story that he doesn't want to be first talon. at no point in the game did i think "yeah this guy is fit for and desires a position of authority" like um. viago is right there. i could see the argument if treviso was blighted (don't know if teia and viago survive that; i saved treviso in my playthrough) but like. VIAGO (AND TEIA!) ARE RIGHT THERE BRO...............

him not killing illario is whatever i can understand not wanting to have the blood of family on your hands. it's the becoming first talon that's crazy. although i suppose the whole filial duty to caterina angle........ but since when was the antivan crow org following the right of primogeniture??? WHATEVERRR

also. antivan crows?? are not a moral organization??? what happened between da:o --> veilguard. why are they all robin hoods. weren't they child slavers who mercilessly tortured them into becoming assassins. there's an argument for "oh that was just house arainai" but i was expecting more morally gray/amoral assassins for hire and less "TREVISO WILL BE FREE. DOWN WITH TYRANNY" like huh???? are we red jennies all of a sudden. are we shadow dragons. whats goin on here.

FINAL THOUGHTS:

wow that's a lot. girl has a phd in yaponomics fr. at the end of the day, veilguard is a good game. i mean, i'm playing again it right now on nightmare mode this time. (CALIVAN'S FIGHT.......... WHAT THE FUCK................ i didn't die to his little minions OR to his pride demon summon i kept dying to his fuckass sextuple cast magic missiles that get spammed constantly like BRO CAN YOU RELAX. CHILL BRO CHIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS!!!!!!!)

i think this game could easily make space for a few more DLC, something like trespasser or mass effect's citadel DLC. hopefully they do because the epilogue slides were PITIFUL. PALTRY. and dare i say? PATHETIC. the romance slide for lucanis and rook being a single line of dialogue that they split between them. i was gobsmacked.

dragon age i say this because i love you and i have loved you for so long and will love you forever: BRING BACK WORLDSTATES. PLEASE. I DON'T NEED A MASSIVE CALLBACK. I DON'T NEED CUTSCENES. I WOULD BE CONTENT WITH THROWAWAY DIALOGUE. WITH A CODEX ENTRY. A LETTER SENT IN-GAME. PLEASE. BRING BACK WORLDSTATES AUGHHHH

although i don't think it'll matter bc if i'm reading those hints right we're going across the sea in the next game to deal with the uh. what was it called? something storm?? that the qunari were running from or whatever???? so i dont think anything we did here in thedas matters. it'll be like me:a except. you know. dragon age.

WAIT. PAUSE. THIS GAME HAS A SECRET ENDING??? <-SHE JUST GOOGLED "DRAGON AGE STORM"

FOR FUCK'S SAKE. WELL THAT'S ON THE TO-DO LIST NEXT THEN.

anyways i love this game. 8/10 would get my ass beat by the demon of desperation and its 5 billion summoned minions again 👍

[captain039]

PART 3 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, smut, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain, idiots in love

Previous part <-

After Viktor's leg massage a few nights ago you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. You heat up at every thought of him, cheeks going red no doubt. His hands felt so nice against your aching legs, practised hands moving with grace. Your mind wanders to more inappropriate images, these same hands slipping under a waistband skill full finger-

“You’re going to over fill the sink” you jolt and turn of the taps quickly the bubbles high and the water almost overflowing. Get a grip! You curse yourself silently lift the plug slightly to drain some water before you begin to wash the dishes with a little bit of aggression.

“You are distracted, lately” Viktor comments from his spot in the small kitchen.

“I’m fine” you cover up quickly.

“You’re not in any pain today, are you?” He asks and you can hear the furrow of his brow.

“No” you shake your head, today was a good day, so far, only the persistent dull ache you always had in your hips and back. It was a downpour outside, a thunderstorm rolling over, Viktor didn’t want to ruin any notes rushing to the lab in the rain, so he stayed home.

“What distracts you then?” He asks and you wonder when he became this worried and interested in your wellbeing. You think about the last few years, quiet and reserved, as he always had been, he respected your space, and you respected his, you weren’t really friends, not like you were in childhood, just acquaintances, living separate lives in the same home. You sagged a bit, you and Viktor were close as children, he’d always have some new invention or toy to show you and tell you about and you’d listen eagerly with wonder. Then your teens hit, and that seemed to go downhill from there, you were struggling with the growing pains and being in the under city there was no real access to medical care, your mother knew a healer, but she just said that children change and grow and that is what you were doing. When your father got promoted and you moved to the upper city when it was all well and less divided, you had access to a little bit of medical help but still nothing. You forced yourself to work despite the agonising nights of not being able to move after them, you made the medical officers look at you again properly and they finally found something not right. You never saw Viktor again, till three years ago. A re-kindled flam you suppose. You thought he wouldn’t recognise you; you look very different from when you were a kid, but he knew, just like you knew it was him.

You’d finish the dishes lost in thought and Viktor hadn’t pressed the question.

“We need more food” you comment glancing outside to the down pour.

“The markets will be shut in this weather, you’ll catch a cold too” Viktor answers and you sigh knowing he’s right so you go to your room, pick up a book and sit in your reading chair by your bedroom window. The day passes slowly you fell asleep during your reading a gentle hand on your shoulder shaking you awake. You groan a bit at the awkward angle of your neck and sit up seeing Viktor a little too close. Your book is on the side of the table and you have a blanket over you.

“The rain has stopped” he says and you nod rubbing your neck a bit as he shuffled back.

“I would’ve let you sleep longer, but your neck looked uncomfortable” he comments and he’s right your neck hurts now. It’s still grey outside but there’s life outside on the streets, no doubt the markets have opened back up.

“I’ll grab my coat and head to the markets” you say stretching and yawning.

“I will join you” Viktor says surprising you.

“It’s a lot of walking, Viktor” you say and he waves you off.

Viktor walks beside you as you go from stall to stall grabbing produce as you need. Some people recognise Viktor and greet him which he greets back quietly too. It’s a little funny watching him tense up with embarrassment at the recognition he receives.

“Are you ok?” You ask as he slows down but you realise he’s looking in a shop, an inventors shop.

“Did you wanna have a look?” You tilt your head and you see his cheeks redden slightly before he nods. You smile a bit and follow him inside. The shop owner has a collection of contraptions from toys to everyday gadgets to some strange things you’ve never even seen. His eyes are slightly wide before they narrow on each thing he inspects, you find it cute the way he calculates how it works studying it before putting it back and moving onto the next item.

“Welcome in” the shop owner grins at you.

“Hi” you turn and greet while Viktor is too busy studying another gadget.

“I’ll be damned” The shop owner laughs softly.

“The great inventor, Viktor” you looked to Viktor seeing him tense and place the gadget he was holding down to turn to the shop keeper.

“It’s honour to have you in my shop” he smiles.

“You have many interesting inventions” Viktor says scanning over them again.

“Not as interesting as yours I imagine but they keep busy” the shop keeper grins.

“They’re still interesting” Viktor comments his eyes falling on you. You tilt your head at him as he study’s you for a moment before looking back to the shop keeper.

“It was nice to see your inventions” Viktor says and you figure he’s ready to go.

“Have a good day” you smile at the shop keeper and head out.

“Do you want to head home?” You ask.

“You still need to get bread, yes?” He asks.

“I don’t wanna push you” you mutter softly.

“Let us get bread then” he brushes you off again. You figure he would do that, you did it back to him, he’s had this condition since he was a child, probably born with it, he knows how to handle it. You’re worried nonetheless the whole way to the bread maker and back to your apartment, Viktor slows in his walk and you match his pace as you walk home. Once home Viktor sits down which you’re thankful for as you unpack the food. It’s dinner time already so you make a simple soup and serve it with the fresh bread you bought on the table.

“Thank you for joining me” you say softly as you both eat.

“You are welcome” Viktor says. You notice how his braced leg is stretched out beside him and you feel guilty. An idea pops in your head, you’re hardly any good with your hands as he is, and- no stupid idea, he doesn’t like people touching him why would you get a free pass? You glare at your reflection in the soup.

“The soup has made you angry?” Viktor asks a light tease in his voice but also concern. Your eyes snap to his face relaxing and you shake your head.

“No just a thought” you say trying to keep a poker face.

“What is it?” He presses gently.

“Just a stupid thought” you grit your teeth a bit before relaxing your face.

“Hardly stupid if it makes you feel like this” he adds.

“I was just gonna offer what you did to me to help with your leg, a massage or something” you blurt and suddenly you’re bright red and frozen.

“Forget it, forget I said anything, stupid-“ you’re up in a rush grabbing your bowl and putting in on the sink disregarding what you had left. A hand rests on your wrists where your hand is fisted against the counter and you tense looking to Viktor who is looking at you.

“I appreciate the offer” he says softly and you clench your jaw and look away from him. He sighs softly his hand moving from your wrist to the side of your face his finger tips gently pressing to your cheek to make you look at him again.

“Would you feel better if you did?” He asks and you frown. This wasn’t about you, it was about him helping him.

“This isn’t about me and my feelings-“ he lifts a hand to stop you.

“Would it?” He presses an intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. His finger tips draw down to your jaw as he drops his hand again.

“Well yes it would but-“ he shushes you again and you stare slightly baffled.

“Come” you stare confused at where he just was before you follow him. You’ve rarely been into his room, it’s so…him. Simple but practical with notes and things scattered on his desks, his bed is neat and hardly used. He sits down on the edge of his bed and beckons you to do the same so you do, when you became so obedient you have no idea. He rests his cane on the nearby bedside table before he leans down and begins to unbuckle his brace.

“Viktor-“ you say but the look he send you shuts you up instantly, you feel like you hardly know this Viktor, the one that has told you to shut up three times in a row. He rests it by his cane and rolls his pant leg up. He sits by you, his eyes looking to his leg, his foot inwards slightly, you see a few scars on his skin, maybe from operations.

“This makes you uncomfortable, I don’t, it was a silly idea” you whisper embarrassed.

“It doesn’t” he says and you shake your head you know, by looking at him you know the walls being put up. You sigh and lean into him resting your head on his shoulder so he doesn’t do anything. He must accept your words are true because his pants slide back down covering his leg and you both sit there for a moment. Your hands rest in your lap, fiddling with your fingers a bit as you sit in silence.

“Stop” Viktor mutters and takes your hand moves it to his lap instead, his fingers go to your palm before moving up and intertwining with yours holding your hand still. You stare at your hands tangled together, heart beating loudly in your chest.

“It’s late” you begin.

“You need sleep” You stand his hand slipping from yours as you leave the room.

Next part ->

[arthrobug]

[hexcitrine]

randomly looked at this account to update my age and holy shit it's been a while since i posted here..........i have a small pile of art i have yet to post but hbhbshdbshbd too lazy

[cowardlylearningtobebrave]

.

[nexus-nebulae]

ok but the fact that we've been reading AND FINISHING multiple books recently....... the world is healing

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! | t. fushiguro + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - age gap (the reader is in their early 20s) - porn with plot - oral (f! + m! receiving) - threesome - double penetration; anal (first time) & vaginal - restricted movement (hands tied up) - face-sitting - cowgirl dp positions - gun + knife play - choking - spanking - unprotected sex - overstimulation - degradation (brat, broad, slut, whore) - pet names (baby, dollface, good girl, pet, princess) - blackmail/threats - the reader is in an established relationship w/ Nanami - mentions of blood, tears, spit, and drool.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k (told you, porn with plot, lol)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: uhhhh happy Friday the 13th, everybody???? blame @ramonathinks for this idea (jk, don't, she's so amazing, ty for pushing me into this, mona bear ♡ and tysm for beta reading; your thoughts mean the world). Haven't done a fic in two months sooooo go easy on me!! Not proofread, so I'll fix stuff l8rrrr

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! Just answer the question!”

“You’re so fucking sick, you know that!?” You glare at your friend, who slumps on the booth chair with a heavy sigh. 

A slight breeze tickles your skin through your comfortable sweatshirts as the leaves on the trees slowly change to autumnal colors, and Halloween decor is already adorning every house and every yard. It was a warm and sunny afternoon on this pleasant Friday. Usually, you’d be cozied up in your apartment enjoying yourself, probably catching up on some horror flicks you missed last year. 

But alas, that was not the case. Because you’re a college student. As October has finally rolled around, only one thing prevents you from enjoying this beautiful season — midterms. The thought of it is enough to pull you into a pool of dread. Every day has been one whirlwind after another. Yet, on the bright side, all you have now is one last exam to worry about, and you’ll finally be able to rest this weekend. So here you are, at the diner with your best friend, Shoko Ieiri, completing your papers while eating off your plates to satiate the stress. For the most part, things were going smoothly.

Until the news anchor on the television at the bar relays an announcement… 

“…Once again, everyone, please be on the lookout for these two killers on the loose. Three weeks ago, the two recently escaped from their cells, killed three guards, and are still at large. There have been accounts around the state that reported recent sightings of either or both criminals, the recent one being in this county 27 hours ago. So, please, stay safe. The killers are identified to be…”

And Shoko, being the curious person she is, asks you a question that stops your fingers from typing on your laptop: “Do you find those killers hot?” 

That’s how you two end up where you are now, groaning at the brunette’s persistence in getting your approval to find two criminals — murderers, even! — attractive. 

“Hey, Y/n, I know you hear me.” Shoko snaps their fingers at you while you try to get the assignment done. “Just answer the question: don’t you think those guys are hot.”

“We didn’t come all this way for you to talk about your hybristophilia fantasies.” Facing the Word document, you remind your friend why you’re here in the first place. “Just get back to writing; I wanna finish this and get home.” There’s nothing said afterward for a few seconds, thinking she has finally given up.

However, “First of all,” your eyes close to conceal them rolling behind the lids. “I’m not into hybristophilia; I just know a hot guy when I see one. Second, look at their mugshots. Like, damn, you’ve ever seen anyone so intimidatingly good-looking before? Come on, have a look!”

“You’re such a weirdo,” the click-clacking of your fingertips tapping your keyboard fills the rest of your answer. 

Still, she persists. “Y/n, look at the phoooone~”

No words, only tapping keys.

“Y/n?”

The keys become louder. 

“Pretty, pretty, pleaseeeee~?” 

Louder.

“Y/n!!”

A fist bangs on the booth table as the other closes the laptop shut, sending another glare to the person across from you who holds the phone up. You’ve had it at this point, so you say with a steady breath, “If I look at the dumb mugshots and answer your dumb question, will your dumbass leave me alone and finish your work?” The brunette only puts the phone on the table and slides it your way, giving you big doe eyes and whimpers like a hurt puppy. You sigh with your nostrils as you snatch the phone up, your gaze stationed on the images presented.

The image displayed two mugshots: on the left was a man with raven hair and a scar on the left of his lip. Intense, forest-green orbs contrast the black strands that cover his forehead. The mugshot letter board below him is labeled as "Toji Fushiguro." The one on the right is another man with spiky salmon-colored hair pushed upfront with prominent black tattoos decorating his nose, cheeks, and forehead. The board named him as “Sukuna Ryōmen.”

You look at the pictures intently, examining the men’s features at your discretion. It didn’t occur to you how long you were gawking at the mugshots until you peered from the phone to see Shoko give you the biggest shit-eating grin. Shaking your head, you chew the inside of your cheek before responding.

“….Well,” you cough. “…they’re not terrible looking at all. They are…..hot.”

“Told you!” Shoko slams the table with high enthusiasm, earning another sigh from you as she snatches the phone back. “Would you fuck them?”

You almost popped a vein. What the fuck—“is wrong with you!?” 

“It’s just a question, geez.” She holds her hands up defensively. “Or is that too lewd and raunchy to ask the partner of the trusting, charismatic “Golden Boy” SGA president, Kento Nanami?”

You choke on your spit before you can say anything, and your cheeks dial in warmth. “S-Shut up! Don’t bring my love life into whatever deviant horny thoughts you’re thinking!”

“I’m sorry, I’m boreeeeeeed. I don’t wanna do this paper, ugh.” The brunette whines and bangs their forehead on the table surface; your eyes roll for the fifteenth time in the past three hours. “…Maybe I should get some dick after this.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to use the restroom.” 

You exit the dining booth when they give you a muffled response of anguish, straightening yourself and heading for the back of the diner. As you walked away, you noticed a pair of hooded figures sitting at the booth behind you. Realization kicks in, and you groan internally. Oh, God, they probably heard what we were talking about! But what caught your mind next was that one of them had a black mark on the bridge of their nose. Huh, what an odd tattoo…

After using the toilet, you wash your hands at the sink, but your mind is still fixated on that weird tattoo. Who would get such a thing on their face? Wouldn’t that hurt? I wonder if that’s the only tatt— And then It clicked, you quickly turn off the faucet and dry your hands, exit the rest restroom, and run to your booth. Shoko was begrudgingly typing away on their laptop until she saw you return in a hurry. 

“Hey, you okay?” She asks you, but you aren’t looking at them. Your face contoured to a confused expression as you stared at the booth behind the one you were sitting in, now empty. 

“Did…..The two people who sat behind us, did you see them?” 

“Hmm? No, I didn’t. Must’ve left while my head was on the table.”

“Uh huh…” you say nothing more as you slowly sit back in front of your laptop. Your mind is now clouded with confusing thoughts, questioning your experience up until now. It could be a coincidence, quite far out at that. Regardless, you could’ve sworn you saw that tattoo on the Sukuna guy that Shoko showed you. It was such an uncommon decor, especially since you just saw it on the face of a criminal. Not to mention, the news anchor earlier stated that those two killers were in this exact county…

Needless to say, you didn’t touch your keyboard for about twenty minutes. Your mind was too wrapped up elsewhere to think clearly about your school assignment, and your body harbored a disturbing chill worse than the soft autumn winds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, why are you researching about the loose killers again?”

“Hm? Oh,” you stop typing on the laptop to attend to the phone call you’re on. Exiting your bedroom, you walk to the living room. “No reason, I was just curious. I saw something about them on the news at the diner with Shoko.”

The person on the other side of the line hums. “You should be careful about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I know, Kenty,” you open the sliding door to your balcony and close it behind you before taking a seat on the cream-colored swing chair.

“I’m very serious, Y/n.” It was none other than Kento Nanami who was speaking with you. The trustworthy “Golden Boy” of your class year, the circumspect president of the Student Government Association… your loving and attentive boyfriend.

"I know you are."

"And those guys aren't just any usual criminals. They're notorious killers who barge into people's homes at night to steal valuable things. Maybe even kill their victims in their sleep if they have the time. So, be very careful, okay? Can’t trust these streets at night, especially now with those guys on the run. So, don’t go anywhere alone, always have your pepper spray on you, and be sure everything is locked — doors, windows, everything.”

A deep sigh leaves your lips. “Yeah, I double-checked all the locks once I got inside.” 

No one says a word; the rustling of the trees and the beeping of cars from the traffic at the light substitute this awkward silence. Until Nanami says, “….You scared?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind flashing back to the bewildering encounter at the diner earlier today. Those two hooded men, one with a black tattoo on his face. It felt too surreal to feel like a coincidence, yet it wasn’t too far out of your mind to think as such. The timing was strange, with the news reporter and your conversation with Shoko. The thought of two murderers nonchalantly being in the same space as you rub you off in the worst way imaginable. “…Kinda, yeah. A bit spooked.”

“You want me to come up there and spend the night?”

“No, no! You don’t have to do that,” you hurriedly decline his proposal. “I know you’re busy with homework and student government stuff. I wouldn’t want you moving around so much; I’d feel bad.”

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the phone, and your heart swoons at the sound. “Don’t feel bad; you could never be a burden to me, especially when your safety is my top priority.” Another skip of the beat; it’ll never fail to amaze you how sweet he is with his words.

“Thank you, Kenty. But still, I know you’ve got a lot on your hands. You don’t have to see me right this moment. Besides, isn’t Haibara supposedly dragging you to some party at Geto’s?” Nanami is silent for a few seconds before he groans; a smile creeps up on your face at his reaction.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have to leave to pick him up, and then we can go…But I can cancel and come o—“

“Absolutely not.” You’re quick to interject. “You’ve been so high and on edge with your exams. This is the first party after midterm week. And I can bet my left toe that Gojo — cause you know he’ll be there if Geto is — will be upset you couldn’t make it.”

“…….Which one?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five toes on your left foot, so which one—“

“Kento.” He chuckles once more for your ears to hear at the use of his real name. “Have fun, okay?”

Nanami hums. “I’ll try. I’ll come by your place Sunday. Sounds good?”

“Perfect. Take some pics for me. Love you!”

Your boyfriend bids you farewell before ending the call, already missing his voice. A yawn creeps out from you, a sign that you are indeed fatigued and need rest. Leaving the balcony, you close the door and do a final check at your door. Confirmed that it’s locked and secured, you turn off the living room lights and head back to your bedroom to get some shut-eye. 

You shut off and close your laptop on your desk before turning off the lights. Then, you lift the comforter and finally enter the chilly embrace of your bedsheets.  Usually, you’d scroll on your phone for a little bit until you get drowsy enough to fall asleep. Yet — it could be because of the exam you were doing at the diner — you felt way more exhausted than usual and wanted to sleep right away. And you did just that: closed your eyes, listened to the calming rhythm of your breaths, and soon drifted into an anticipated slumber.

….Three Hours Later….

The next time you open your eyes, you’re not in the room you left yourself in — let alone the bed. 

Instead, you find yourself somewhere cold and dark. Your bed is nowhere in sight, just a lone chair facing you. There are no windows, no desks, just you and this chair with a sole overhead light that almost blinds you when you slowly get up. 

The change of scenery throws you off as one thought after another picks up the pace of confusion. Where am I? What is this place? This has to be a sick dream of mine…Wait a minute. You look down to find your pajamas are shriveled and torn up, pieces of the material scattered all over where you’re lying on the cold floor. Also, what the fuck!? You can’t seem to move your hands and feet, noticing that there’s some rope restricting your limbs from moving freely from one another. No matter how hard you try, squirming does little to no help, yet it confirms that this is not a dream.

What the absolute fuck is going on right now!? It was an appropriate question for this perplexing situation, not knowing where to pick up from to start picking clues as to why you’re here. Better yet, who brought you here?

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

You turn to the sound of a door opening and closing; the direction it came from makes it hard to register the distance of whoever was speaking to you. However, that doesn’t matter because you can hear footsteps approaching you and a figure stepping into the light. And when the face finally comes to your field of vision, your blood shifts into an immediate icy cold.

Standing to you by the chair was a man in a tight black shirt that exhibited his muscular arms and physique way too perfectly, harboring dark and baggy pants. But those weren’t the features that had your breath hitch. No, no. The man before you had raven hair with the length stopped to his ears and strands that covered his brows. They did not even try concealing the striking green eyes that looked straight at you. And the familiar scar at the right of his lip put everything together for you — the mugshot that Shoko showed me, the inmate that escaped prison…!

Toji Fushiguro, in the flesh, takes a seat on the chair with his legs spread while putting on black gloves. He notices your look of realization and smirks; you don’t like how his scar is rooted up with the motion. “Y’re a pretty heavy sleeper, ya know that. But I guess that made bringing you here a lil’ simple.” 

A tiny bit of confidence prompts you to speak with the man. “Whe–Where am I?”

“C’mon now, little girl,” your stomach churns when he scoffs at you. He brings up a hand to help him as he cracks his neck. God, why is he so jacked!!? “Y’re supposed to be smart, right? You know that’s the wrong question to ask me.” 

Okay then, think, Y/n, think… ”…Why did you kidnap me? Is it for money? Because I don’t have much—“ The palm of Toji’s hand faces you to halt you from speaking more, making your nervousness dwell even further. 

“For one, you should really consider locking your balcony door when y’re done using it.” There are not enough words to describe the mental facepalm you gave yourself. “If we wanted to run y’r pockets, we woulda done so earlier.” He casually admits to you. “But that’s not why we brought ya here, so he’ll explain it to ya.”

He? Wait, wait, we??

The other mugshot hits you like a flash before you hear the door open and close again. Of course, Toji isn’t the only one on the run right now. There was another guy with salmon-colored hair and tattoos. The other figure, now wearing a black tank tee and ripped black jeans, came from behind Toji. Your stomach drops to the floor when your eyes land on the prominent black tattoo on his nose — now seeing that he has way more on his face, shoulders, arms, and wrists. The scene from the diner replays until your brain can’t keep up. It was him, no doubt about it.

“Well, well. Did the sleeping beauty finally get their rest?” Sukuna Ryōmen, looks just as [if not more] dangerous as Toji. He stuffs his hand into the back of his jeans pocket. “Listen here, I’ll be asking you some questions, and I expect nothing but honest answers. Got that?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask the question. You being scared shitless right now should’ve prevented you from doing so. And yet, you ask, “And if I don’t?”

It happened way too fast; your eyes couldn’t even process it happening. But one moment, the salmon-haired criminal was standing in front of you beside Toji. The next, you feel someone crouched behind you with the cold feeling of something barely piercing your skin. Your eyes widen, and you don’t dare move a single hair. Toji shakes his head at you, the smirk on his face still present. Now you can guess who had fun cutting up your PJs.

“I don’t think you wanna know the answer to that question.” He says it so close to your ear that you could’ve nearly fainted. Sukuna then moves the knife to scrape the side of your neck. “And don’t you ever think you’re in a position to ask me questions. Use that college brain of yours, brat.” 

You gulp — a risky move when you have a sharp object to your neck — and nod. Satisfied, the pink-haired man removes the knife from your proximity and stands right up. “At least you follow things quickly.” He says while walking back to where he stood prior. “Now, question one: do you know a kid named Kento Nanami?” 

The mention of your boyfriend’s name hits you like whiplash. Kento? What do they want with him!?

“…Yes, I do.”

“Good. Next question,” You chew the inside of your lip before he asks you the following. “Where does he live?”

Your body almost shuts down when he says the final word. No. No, no, no! Absolutely not! “I can’t tell you that.”

“Tch, just when you were doin’ so good.” Sukuna sucks his teeth. “And why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want you hurting him.”

He barks a laugh. “You don’t even know what we’ll do to him! Damn, talk about a loyal dog.” 

The insult sparked a flame in you. It was a small one, but a flame nonetheless. “Why the hell do you want to know anyway? It’s not like he knows you any—Hrckk!”

“What the hell did I say about you asking questions, huh.” A hurried hand meets your throat, black nails digging into your skin as his grip gets unbearably tight. You attempt to keep a stern face despite choking for some air, but you’d be lying that the pain wasn’t getting to your head.

“Alright, Kuna, let ‘em go.” You almost forgot about Toji sitting on the chair until he spoke up. With a displeased click of the tongue, Sukuna releases you and throws you to the cold, hard floor. “For your information, princess, that kid does know us.”

You’re coughing up a storm, but you still listen. Your eyes are watery, and your throat pulses. “Hic…Ack, what—What are you talking about?”

Toji continues. “That little friend of y’rs is the reason why we were behind bars for three years. Fuckin’ kid saw us break into a house in his neighborhood and called the cops on us. For the longest time, we’ve thought about getting out of those damn cells and coming back to rip that lil’ fucker limb from limb. Maybe ransack his whole home and then some.” 

“And now that we are out here,” Sukuna chimes in. “We plan on doing just that. We were sitting right behind you at the diner and heard the brown-haired chick say his name, meaning he had to be around this county. And when he heard that fucking square had a little girlfriend, who better to introduce ourselves and point us the way than you.” 

So much information hits you all at once that you’re not given enough time to process it properly. Nanami called the cops on these guys? Where was that piece of information on the phone call!!? Three years ago, it must’ve happened before the start of freshman year. And then there’s the matter of these murders trying to kill him — the love of your life! 

You immediately try to weigh your options: you could give them a fake address, but that would lead them back to you and have you killed instead. And Nanami doesn’t live at home right now; he’s on campus with you and everyone else. So, sharing these two his home address will just have his family killed in his place! Oh, you wouldn’t handle that guilt; you just couldn’t!!

“So, what’ll it be, little girl?” Toji’s voice snaps you from your rampant thoughts. “You can be a cute girlfriend and be loyal, and we’ll just kill you right here, right now. Or, you give us an address, we’ll put you back to sleep, and you’ll never see from us ever again.” 

Those two options were far from what you wanted to do. You would never want to jeopardize your poor boyfriend’s life and those around him for being a model citizen, especially for these assholes! There had to be a way, something you could do!

“Please, don’t hurt him!” The ropes on your hands and feet have you shuffle to look at the two men from the dirty ground. “He didn’t do anything wrong. Please just spare him!”

“No-can-do, brat.” Sukuna comes down to your level once more, yanking your shirt — or whatever’s left of it, your bra practically out for the whole world to see — to lift your upper body. “Nothing to ease a vengeful spirit than taking care of the problem, right? So do us a favor, will ya.” 

Tears are fighting your control to fall, your body trembling. You’re scared, so so frightened. But most of all, you’ll do what you can to make sure your “golden boy” stands tall for you. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything you want, I’ll do it! So, please!!” 

Sukuna opens his mouth to bite back, but no words come out. Actually, his expression resorts back to a neutral tone. He then turns to Toji, who looks at him with a quirked brow. There’s nothing but silence between the two, a silent conversation between the two killers that you have no choice but to stay quiet for. And you jerk when the two focus back on you. Sukuna then finally says something.

“Anything, huh?” It’s the worst when he sneers at you. Such a devious man. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tch. Fucking brat.” Sukuna sucks his teeth before he snatches your chin with a rough vigor, forcing your teary eyes to face him. And it doesn’t help that you now have a gun pointed at your temple. “This is your warning. You better do this right, or you’ll be the first to get a gift with your boyfriend’s head all minced up. Now, use that mouth. Properly.”

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you’d end up here. You stood on your knees and hands on the concrete floor, your mouth occupied with Sukuna’s cock, propelling your face to and fro to meet the base. Why the handgun to your head? According to the salmon-haired man, he said: “Try to fight, run, or bite our dicks off, then this whole mag is getting emptied.” So, you’re literally giving the fellatio of your life. And judging by the grunts coming from Sukuna, it seems you’re doing a decent job keeping him going. 

As for the other one, Toji, his hands grabbing onto your asscheeks from beneath should answer that. “C’mon, baby, sit on my face. I don’t bite…” you can tell he has the biggest grin on his face saying that, has you hesitant to follow orders. Regardless, you gently sway your ass down to sit on his face. But impatience gets the best of him before he pulls you down himself, his nose abruptly hitting your clitoris. You jolt despite his hands keeping you on him, forced to feel his tongue and mouth indulging on your wet folds.

So there you sit, bare and nude, for the men to use you as they see fit. Whatever piece of your clothes were torn off you to be fully exposed for them. This is what you choose to do for the sake of your boyfriend: giving yourself off for the night. 

Oh, if Shoko could see you now. Sucking off one of the exact murderers you two were talking about at the diner while the other eats you out? You know you’ll never hear the end of it from her if — by some miracle — she finds out! And you’ll hold onto that miracle for as long as you can. 

“…Fuuuck, hnngh! It’s been a minute since I had my dick on something tight,” Sukuna comments while putting his free hand on your head. His thrusts increase to have your tongue bathe the underside of his dick, and he sighs at you choking when the tip suddenly hits your uvula. “Heh, that’s right. Keep those tears coming, pet…You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Fushiguro. This broad taste that fucking good—Ohhh shit, fucking shit…”

You can feel Toji’s lips curve into a smile from down under, he gives your labia and clit a slow and antagonizing lick before responding to his partner in crime. “Mmmm, man. It’s been a while since I had to do this. Crazy how this princess got with a square like that kid. Wonder if he makes ‘em feel good like this.” And then he returns to your clit to give it a harsh suck. 

Your body continues to be used like a toy. Your jaw loosens to oblige Sukuna’s girth that’s currently hitting the back of your throat every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. His ruts dial-up, and you ball your fists with the constant oral abuse on your face. Drool runs down your chin with every shove of his length, practically choking you with his dick. And the commotion between your leaking vulva and Toji doesn’t go unnoticed either; motherfuker’s tongue is relentless, making sure every crevice and part of your pussy is familiar with him. And the sounds of him slurping your essence are so lewd, so erotic for your ears that you think they’re bound to explode on you. 

“—Ahhh, damn, I’m gonna cum,” Oh, God. Your eyes open to look at Sukuna’s expression, nothing but pure enjoyment looking at your pitiful look. “You’re cute looking all pathetic taking my cock like this, whore—Mmmph!! Shiiiit, keep your head like that.” He grabs your head as his thrusts speed up to an irregular pace, your throat and face becoming numb. Your whimpers are muffled, and tears streak down your cheeks. His groans of pleasure fill the room, and before you know it, his load is released down to the depths of your throat. You’re stuck taking it, mewling on the shaft still in your mouth until he’s finished. 

He removes you when he is, his cock slathered in your saliva and still rock hard. You gawk at it, amazed that you could fit it in your mouth. And you hate to admit this, but it has you wondering what Toji’s is like. 

Speaking of, with a foggy mind, you peer down to see Toji finally done eating your cunt out. “Ya taste good, you know that.” He licks his lips provocately with a smile. You open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. “You ready fr’ me now?” He cocks his chin up, and you turn to see what he’s talking about, only to be met with the pinkish-red tip of his sprung erect cock. If you didn’t think you’d be able to have Sukuna’s in your mouth, you’re going to need a diety’s grace to see what you can do with Toji’s. “Heh, think I’m too big fr’ you? How the hell is Kento handling a piece like you?”

“S–Shut up, stop bringing him up!” You shout at him, tired of being reminded of the love of your life whom you’re betraying right now. All for his sake, but still…

He chuckles at your reaction. “Little girl got spark, huh. Fine then, be a doll and put it in yourself.” 

Cold sweat slides from your brow. Me? I’ve gotta put that shit in on my own!? But you have to. You know you do. So, with anxiousness pooling in your stomach, you bring your ass up and use your hand to align his cock to your wet cunt. 

It takes a lot of mental motivation for you to continue, but slowly and surely, you push the folds of your cunt onto his glans. The pain you experience makes it excruciating to bear, but with steady breaths, you push the tip in with every exhale. And when it finally enters your vulva, a gasp erupts from your puffy lips and a hiss from the man with the scarred lip. “Mmmm, slow down, baby, slow it down…” That was probably the only words he’s ever said that you could trust, so you anchor your ass down, taking in every inch of his length with his hands guiding your ass down. When you reach the base, you give yourself a few seconds to adjust to his girth within your velvety walls. “Fuck, ya feel so nice and tight, princess.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna walks from behind. “Can’t wait for me to have a go.” You couldn’t even comprehend the meaning of that sentence because the salmon-haired one kicked your back. You are now mounted on Toji completely, the two of you facing each other while Sukuna crouches behind your ass. “Get ready, I’m putting it in.”

“Huh?” Wait, both at the same time!? “Ho–Hold on, I’ve never done it in my ass bef—“

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me; guess I’ll be the first then,” he shuts down your argument and then bends down to use his fingers and spit to ease your asshole. It feels so gross and repulsive that you could puke right now. Not that it would matter to Sukuna because he’s already set on doing it — his fore and middle finger pushing in and out of your anus. When he feels you’ve loosened up, he’ll remove his digits and substitute them with his cock. 

And he doesn’t warn you either, fucking bastard; he nudges his dick in his own countdown with no regard to how you’re feeling. Gripping onto the raven-haired man’s black shirt, Sukuna’s cock puts you through pain worth traumatizing, evoking screams that scratch your throat until he gets the whole thing in your ass. Nanami would never put you through this much pain. Never!

“Aww, y’re making the pretty girl cry,” Toji teases condescendingly, chuckling at the sight of you burying your head in his chest to shield the embarrassment. 

Sukuna hums while grinding his hips to your ass, a tiny bit of blood painting his shaft. “Hmph, good, makes my enjoyment worthwhile. Now,” you shriek with the sudden snap of his hips to your ass. “Let’s get this show started.”

When Sukuna moves, Toji follows right after, and you’re left to fend for yourself in this unsteady tempo from both your holes. You start seeing stars from the unusual stimulation, and your mind and vision become so blurry that it hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to try and concentrate on one dick at a time! One is currently scraping the wells of your walls in a way that your slit clenches around him, while the other churns your insides from the back that almost takes your breath away. More drool and tears seep into the black shirt you use to disguise yourself from them. This shit is already humiliating as is!

“C’mon now, baby. Show me that pretty face of y’rs.” Of course, Toji uses one hand to nudge your head to look at him. Your face is such a wet and hot mess, the sweat on your body making you sticky. The attempt to make sentences is beyond you, relying on moans and choked sobs to express your disorganized emotions. “There ya are. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Toji then takes your plump lips with his, his hand snaking to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. It was one thing letting them use your cunt and ass as they see fit; now, they dare to kiss you in a time like this. Oh, this is the absolute worst! How can you speak to Nanami ever again after this!? These lips are now sullied by the lips and cock of other men. You can’t ever go back and say that you were his, and it’s because of these assholes!!

…And what’s worse, you were starting to find enjoyment in what you were doing, sinking into Toji’s kiss and moaning into his scarred lips.

“Haahh…Mmmph…Damn, this slut is so fucking tight.” Sukuna watches your back glisten in the light while your ass quaked under his unstable momentum. He sneers before slapping your asscheek, resulting in a rushed moan and a twitch from your pussy. Toji breaks the kiss. “Hey, keep doing that. Think they like it.” 

With devilish glee, the tattooed other doesn’t hold back. He gives you another smack to the ass, and more loud purrs and shrieks fill the space between you three. Fast ruts to your soaping slit and ass coincide with the strikes to your butt, catching you off guard and leaving a stinging sensation every time. 

It’s apparent now that your hips start to move on their own, riding out your own high while preparing for your orgasm that’s climbing up. And the raven-haired man notices as he puts your hand on your aching buttcheeks. “Goin somewhere, dollface?” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me come already!! “—Ahhnn, ooohhhh!! I’m about to cummm—I’m gonna break—Eeyahhh!!!

“That so?” You want to wipe that smirk off his stupid, dumb, handsome face. “Then go ahead and get dirty, princess. Ring us up.”

Your arousal staggers up when both of their thrusts fall into a unity, the tender spots of your gummy walls from your ass and cunt being hit and abused prompt more ecstatic moans and your head pounding with every jab. Almost there, almost! Please, please, I want it!! And you are finally given what you want; your release crashes into you in a hard swoop, the shocks crawling up your body while your holes contract around both men’s cocks. Your brain falls into an erotic trance; you only care about the euphoric sensations tingling around your body. Dizziness overtakes you, and your head descends back on Toji’s chest.

“Hmph, you really a pathetic pet.” Sukuna grinds his pelvis into your sensitive ass. The aftershocks from your release still make your body react to their movements. “Chasing for your own orgasm, huh. We outta fuck that selfishness right out of you, damn brat…”

You don’t say anything — more like you don’t have the energy to. Your ass and chasm are too stuffed to keep your mind active, and your eyelids feel too heavy to keep up. It probably was from all that crying and screaming. All you want to do is go back to sleep in your bed at your cozy apartment. But that must be asking for too much. Just please end this nightmare…

Kenty…Please forgive me, I’m so sorry….

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You can’t remember how sleep found you that night. But your eyes open to the ray of sunshine that peaks through the binds of your bedroom. Wait, my bedroom!?

You shoot up from your bed, the soft comforter and sheets peeling off your skin, and the cool air from the air conditioning welcomes you back to your personal space. Everything untouched, everything where it’s supposed to be — where you’re supposed to be.

A deep breath is the first thing you do when you wake up, following a long exhale. Was I dreaming? You would’ve accepted that delusion had you not looked down to realize that your figure was covered with one of your oversized shirts, remembering that your old pajamas were cut and torn up. Flashes of last night return to haunt you, and shivers travel down your spine from realizing what transpired at those ungodly hours. You quickly check your sheets for any stains — Thank God, none. Funny how a pair of serial killing assholes have the decency to clean up your body. 

And then a sudden feeling of dread crawls up after hearing your phone vibrating on your nightstand. You hurry to check the screen to find out it was a text message from Nanami. It’s a Saturday, 9 a.m. He’d usually be sleeping in until noon. Curious, you unlock your phone to check what your boyfriend is texting you about.

Recent Message from: ♡ my bby nanamiii ♡

Hey, Y/n. Hope you slept well and everything’s okay. I’m coming from Geto’s place after picking up Haibara, who is going through the worst hangover right now. He said he wants to see you and that you make the best meals for his hangovers. I don’t want to intrude if you’re not up for guests, so please tell me so I can take him somewhere else. But otherwise, we’ll be there at around 30-45 mins. Let’s just relax this weekend, okay?

Reading the text as you fall in love with him all over again. After what you’ve gone through, knowing that he’s safe and sound from any trouble, all you want right now is to be around him and hold him close. To be with him and forget about everything that’s happened. 

You send a heartwarming reply saying you’ll be waiting for the two of them. Then, you remove yourself from the bed and stretch out your fatigued muscles. Ugh, I should probably shower before Nananmi gets here…

However, before you lift your shirt and head for the bathroom, you notice a glass of water and a bag full of pills. Huh…I definitely didn’t have that there when I went to sleep before I was taken. And next to the glass was a folded piece of paper. Curiosity got the best of you this morning as you picked up the material to read its contents. 

And this is where you knew your life was changing, for better or worse. Your legs give out, making you fall to your knees with a shaky breath, the hairs of your body standing, and your heart on the verge of leaping out of your mouth. What you read crushed your whole being, leaving you cold in this world — worse than the autumn breeze.

Yo, thanks for the great time last night. Keep that up, and your pretty boytoy will keep standing. Here’s water and birth control, and keep that bag safe. Wouldn’t wanna end up losing it for the next time we fuck you dumb. See ya later, pet.

SR + TF

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly <3 header art by rororgi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[eudaimaniacs]

cherry (old! logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 1.7k words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni). loss of virginity and age gap

notes: i have a headache from swimming yesterday but still managed to finish this in a day (so it's not proofread). i have tons of requirements to do so i may do an occasional small imagine once in a while. anyways, enjoy!

You started dating Logan six months ago, and when the conversation about sex came up, you shamefully admitted that you're still a virgin. You didn't want to look like a little girl to the older man since you knew that he had dated and slept with numerous women in the past. When you let out those three words of truth, you expected him to break up with you. However, Logan smirked and remarked how he hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time.

So, it was a matter of waiting for you to lose your virginity to Logan.

You went to your close friends for sex advice. They weren't experienced with the topic but teased that you're going to fuck an old, attractive man. With a few good luck, you readied yourself for the day Logan will take your virginity. You didn't bother searching online since watching porn made you cringe. Additionally, the boys you dated were either clueless or too eager only fuck you. Logan wasn't like them; he cared and didn't date you because you were innocent and pretty.

One night, when you stayed at Logan's house, you decided to lose your virginity finally. You wore a white lace-trimmed tank top with black pajama shorts. You used the cherry lipgloss you bought for this occasion to make the night extra special. Logan donned the wifebeater tank top you loved. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard made him extra sexy, or maybe it was the age gap.

You two cuddled on the queen-sized bed you cleaned before this night. The softness of the pillows and the blankets didn't lessen your anxiety. With you touching his chest and Logan snaking his hand around your waist, you waited for the opportunity to bring up the conversation about sex again.

"Logan, honey? I have something to ask you," you whispered as you scratched his chin.

The older man hummed in agreement as he waited for your question.

Finding the right words, you blurted out, "Are you ready to have sex with me tonight?" With wide eyes and a beating heart, you hoped Logan wouldn't notice your nervousness.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. Logan remarked, "I'm ready when you are, princess."

Your gaze softened as Logan agreed to have sex with you. However, it dawned on you that you didn't know how to start. Were you supposed to pleasure Logan first, or is he the one who should do it first? Should you take off your clothes when does it too? Who goes first? Who comes second? Your mind raced with the inexperience you didn't bother to fix.

"What's the matter, [Y/N]?" Logan noticed that you weren't taking action. You didn't want to admit you didn't know what to do. What if Logan wasn't attracted to your inexperience? What if he hated how awkward you are at initiating sex?

You took a deep breath before admitting to Logan, "I'm n-not too s-s-sure what to do, Logan. I tried to, you know, do my research about sex. S-so I'm sorry if I seem to be aw-"

Logan cut you off before finishing to tell him the truth. He sat up and rested on the headboard. The older man commanded you to take a seat on his lap. You quickly followed and rested your head on his chest. The beat of his heart assured you that Logan would be understanding about your anxiety about sex.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. You don't have to worry about having sex for the first time. I'm here to guide you. Remember when I told you how I hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time? I want your first time to be special, [Y/N]," Logan softly whispered as he caressed your back to relieve you.

You giggled and raised your head to kiss his neck gently. Logan chuckled at your sudden, playful attitude after assuring you everything would be okay. You pushed up your chest against his, and the older man seethed as he saw your breasts.

"Look at you now. You're now teasing me with your boobs. I thought you were nervous," Logan chuckled as he massaged your butt. You gave him a beck before replying, "Maybe you cast a spell on me, honey. I got a bit fired up with that sweet talk you did."

Logan lifted your chin and saw your glossy eyes accompanied by the cherry lipgloss. Your innocence, mixed with playfulness and the cute face and outfit you had, made Logan's heart race. He couldn't believe that you trusted him to be your first time. His rough, veiny hands caress your shoulder as he toys with the thin strap of your top. Your breath hitched up at the older man's soft and sensual action. You touched his chest to support yourself and felt your pussy wanting to be touched.

You slowly rubbed your clothed vagina on his black denim jeans as Logan went under your top to grope your breasts. You let out a shaky moan as you chased your high. Logan smirked as he saw your face contorting at the newfound pleasure.

"Let me do something, princess. Lay down for me," Logan grabbed your thighs, leading you to stop rubbing your pussy against his jeans. You were unsatisfied that he prevented you from chasing your climax. However, you were equally excited about what he would do next. You lay down on the bed as Logan told you and waited for his following action.

Logan kneeled at the end of the bed and asked, "May I take off your shorts, princess?" His rough hands caress the softness of your covered thighs. You slowly nodded, not wanting to keep Logan waiting for your response. He chuckled and reassured you that he would always be patient with you. You felt Logan sliding off your black pajama shorts, and you lifted your legs for him to take it off easier. The older man sucked his teeth as the sight of your lacy pink panties appeared.

Your heart was beating fast since you were one undergarment away from exposing your pussy. Logan pushed the fabric to the side and smelled your arousal. Sweet. He slowly circled your clit and licked your pussy to taste you. Logan moaned as he ate you; he wanted to do it fast as he had never tasted a virgin pussy before. However, knowing this was your first time, he took it slow. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Logan's tongue pleasuring you. You grabbed the bedsheets and screamed his name.

As you felt your stomach twisting, Logan stopped and wiped his lips coated with your arousal. You curved your eyebrows in disappointment as Logan continued teasing you. You whined about how he should stop it and remarked that you wanted to orgasm badly. Logan grabbed the hem of your tank top, telling you to take them off. He fondled your breasts and kissed you.

Logan shushed you and whispered, "I'm only prepping you, princess. I'm now going to give you the real thing." He stood up and unbuckled his belt for his massive penis to escape. You gasped at the length of it. How is it going to fit you? You were both hungry and scared of the enormous cock staring at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. I'll take it slow, and you tell me if I need to take it out. Got it, princess?" Logan stared at your lust-filled eyes, waiting for your approval. You whispered a soft yes as you braced yourself for his length to push in. Logan grabbed your hips as he slowly entered inside of you. Your eyes suddenly opened at the foreign sensation penetrating you.

You let out a few tears but remained strong as you didn't want to embarrass yourself by tapping out. Logan saw it and whispered, "[Y/N], are you okay? Do I need to take it out?"

You shook your head and responded, "I'm okay, Lo. I need to adjust a bit to your length." Logan heartily chuckled as he rested his head beside your neck. You hugged his back and waited for the pain to subside. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small moan, signaling Logan to pick up the pace.

Logan started to thrust slowly and made sure that you weren't crying because of the pain. He lifted himself and pounded you. You grabbed his chest as you felt the shape of his dick molding your pussy. You screamed his name and told him how good it felt. Logan saw your bouncing tits and squeezed them.

"Lo-Logan, please kiss me. P-please, I need you to kiss me," you panted as you grasped the sheets. Logan leaned in to passionately kiss you. He tasted the sweetness of cherry lipgloss and let his tongue in. You scratch his back as you feel your high coming.

"I'm a-about to-fuck. I'm cumming, Logan!" You screamed as the older man quickened his pace to reach his high, too. You cried out pleasure as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

Logan hungrily kissed your neck and groaned at the sensation of your tightness. He went wild as he sensed his orgasm chasing him. You grabbed his hair to brace yourself from the immense pleasure coming.

"Let go, princess. Fuck, I'm close too. Come on, princess. Cum for me," Logan moaned as he quickly pounded for the two of you to release. You felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you as Logan did one effective thrust. You screamed out his name as your legs went numb at the pleasure.

Logan stayed inside of you as he released his cum inside of you. He pulled out to see the sheets stained with blood and your once-virgin pussy leaking with his cum. The older man kissed your forehead and grabbed a towel at your dresser to clean you up.

"How was it, princess? Was it good?" Logan asked as he gently wiped your thighs. You sat and rested your head on the board to look at him better.

You giggled and replied, "That was the best, Logan. I couldn't have asked for anything better." He softly grinned and leaned in to give you a soft, deep kiss. Logan savored the sweet taste of the cherry lipgloss. You hummed as he continued kissing you. And as the night became darker, the two of you slept soundly as the imprint of your gloss and virginity marked Logan and his warm cum filling you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[lustspren]

D.A | I Hate Everything About You.

Male reader x IVE's Wonyoung.

🔙 Previous update | 📄 I Hate Everything About You |

tags: HATE sex, rough sex, bdsm, daddy kink, squirt, overstimulation, really dirty facefuck, creampie, facial, degradation, dirty talk, kinda enemies to lovers ✧ 

word count: 9.6k

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“Are you sure? One hundred percent?” you asked, sitting in your desk chair with the phone to your ear. You had finished a six-hour stream a few minutes ago.

“Of course!” Yujin replied from the other end of the line. “I already made sure the staff got you a room at our hotel. You have no excuse!”

You sighed, rolling your chair back and turning it to face the wall. Helios was sleeping on top of the bookshelf where you had all your action figures, next to a Blood Raven Space Marine.

“Yujin-ah, I’m serious, I don’t want to have any problems when I arrive,” you said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for a room myself?”

The reason for the argument was that she, Liz, and Rei had invited you to see their performance at the Golden Wave in Tokyo. The idea had of course been born from Yujin, and her insistence left you no choice but to accept. But it still wasn’t that easy; you had to sort out some logistics first, as always.

“No! Don’t even think about it, Ezio!” Yujin said, in a tone you knew was best not to refute. “Just trust me. Has a tragedy ever happened because of that?”

“A year ago you made Rei and I believe that your manager wouldn’t find out you were spending the night with me after the concert, guess who got told off the next day?”

“But that wasn’t my fault!” she protested. “I had no way of knowing!”

“But it happened. I just answered your question.”

Yujin snorted, and you smiled. Getting on her nerves was pretty easy and fun.

“Are you going to accept my offer or not?”

“I have no choice, I guess,” you sighed, and turned back to your computer to push your chair forward. “I’ll buy the ticket right now.”

You heard Yujin exhale in relief as you searched for the airline’s website.

"The hotel is the Hyatt Regency. I think we'll get there around 2pm."

"Okay," you replied, scheduling the flight. "But I'll go the day before."

"Why?"

You sighed.

"I'd say it's for shopping, but I spent way too much on my two trips to Italy in the past two months. I need to get back on my feet."

"You went again?" Yujin asked. "I thought you already went to Rome in October with the NewJeans girls."

"I mean, that was a one-night binge," you finally bought the ticket and stood up, walking out of your office. "This, on the other hand, was a mini vacation."

"Mini vacation? Where, with who?" she asked again, as you headed straight to the kitchen to grab a drink and some leftover poke you had left in the fridge.

"Woah," you chuckled, going to sit at the dining table. "You sounded just like Nana. Scary."

"Hey! I have a right to know!"

"Yeah yeah, I'll tell you when I see you, it's a long story."

"Yeah, you better."

"Hey, I gotta go," you said, opening a can of Pepsi. "I'm going to eat and then I have a work meeting."

"Okay! See you in a few days then?"

"If nothing weird happens, yeah."

"Alright! Bye oppa!"

"Bye Yujinie."

Yujin hung up, and as you ate your poke you checked your text messages. You had from Sohyun, from Hanni, and of course, from Nana.

Nana was honestly amazing. She could just ask that from the first text, but no, she loved it and begged for your attention. Incredibly, it was like that from the first day you met her, when she did that challenge with Sullyoon at the Music Core and she cast a spell on you that three months later you still couldn't shake.

You didn't even bother to answer her at that moment. You rushed to finish eating, fed the cats as well, and ran to take a shower to attend your meeting with Sony.

In the end, that trip to Tokyo turned out to be extremely productive. Sony executives had made it clear that a face-to-face meeting would be extremely necessary to discuss all the details about your collaboration, and by putting your trip to Japan on the table, it was easy to arrange a time and place.

Unfortunately, that meant you had to make a flight change in order to get to Japan as soon as possible, and from around 8 in the morning you were already in Tokyo on your way to the meeting. That was basically the whole day for you, since obviously, releasing a custom line of speakers was something that took quite a bit of work.

At around 8pm, after the meeting, lunch and a short walk, you arrived at the Hyatt Regency. But you found something strange. The lobby was strangely populated, and once you paid a little attention to your surroundings you could see dozens of people with cameras whose flashes went on every second.

As you tried to figure out why there were so many photographers, a hotel employee approached you with a friendly smile.

"Good evening, sir," the woman said, with a pretty thick accent. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Uh... yes," you nodded absentmindedly, trying to look over the heads, but it was no use. "Yes, ma'am." you finally looked at her.

"Follow me, please." she nodded and started walking.

You followed the woman to the reception. The check-in process was quite smooth; about five minutes later the hotel staff had already provided you with both your room card and instructions on all the benefits that came with the reservation and how to claim them.

With nothing else to do down there, you decided to go straight up to your room, as you were exhausted and urgently needed to lie down for a couple of hours. The crowd was still milling around where the event was being held, and curious you finally approached outside the security line as it was on your way.

You wished you hadn't seen what you saw over the heads of the photographers, because it immediately put you in a bad mood.

Jang Wonyoung, now an ambassador for Tommy Jeans, posed for the cameras as seemingly innocent as ever, with that face carved by the archangel Gabriel and that beautiful, slim body. She was probably one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen, without a doubt.

And you really, really disliked her.

You couldn't stand her since before you personally met the IVE girls over a year ago, but from then on, you only confirmed that she was exactly the kind of person you could never be friends with. She was a pick me girl, self-centered, pretentious, and haughty. Four things you hated all in one person.

Of course, she couldn't stand you either. Every time you had interacted had resulted in tensions, many of which ended in an argument, and for some time now you had chosen to simply stay away from each other to avoid awkward situations with people who had nothing to do with you.

And there she was again, in a hilarious twist of fate. It seemed scripted just to make you look stupid.

But as always, you were just going to ignore her and go about your business. Nothing was going to happen as long as you two stayed away from each other. So you took a few steps back, turned around, and took the stairs to the first floor, then took the elevator to your room.

The first thing you did when you got there wasn't even unpacking, it was going straight to take a shower and then lay down on the bed to check your phone.

You ended up getting a little too wrapped up in watching TikTok and Twitter, because you didn't realize when two hours had passed, only when your eyes started to feel heavy and your body was already asking for some rest. And that was exactly what you were about to do.

Until you heard the room door open.

Instantly alarmed, you looked over your shoulder, ready to throw punches on whoever had forced the lock to get in.

But out of all your possible scenarios, none of them mentally prepared you for seeing Wonyoung walk out of the hallway and stop dead in her tracks. You immediately sat up, your brow furrowed in a combination of anger and confusion.

“Ahhh!” she screamed in fright, dropping her suitcase and handbag to the floor. Recognizing you, her eyes went from fear to anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” she asked, in perfect English with no trace of an accent.

Great, just what you fucking needed.

“I ask the same damn question,” you said incredulously, staring at her. “It’s my room.”

“No, it’s not!” she protested, and stepped forward to show you her key card.

“Look on the fucking nightstand and tell me what you see, please,” you retorted, pointing at it.

Wonyoung frowned and walked over to look at your key card. She then clenched her fists and stomped her foot.

“Oh my god!” she shrieked in frustration. “This has to be a fucking joke!”

She then turned her back on you and stormed off down the hall. You knew where she was headed, so you immediately followed her. You both headed straight to the lobby to demand an explanation.

“I’m sorry, but that’s how the reservation was made,” the receptionist told you, embarrassed by the unfortunate situation. “There’s nothing that can be done to change it.”

“At least I can pay for another room, right?” you asked, hopefully.

The woman smiled sheepishly and folded her hands across the desk, indicating to you that nothing good was about to come out of her mouth.

“I’m afraid all rooms are taken for the night, sir,” she said. “We only have the Atrium suite available.”

And with that, any hope was crushed. On another occasion you would have paid whatever, but right now you couldn't afford it.

Wonyoung, seized by rage, slammed her hand on the desk and went back the way you had come.

You looked at the receptionist, embarrassed by Wonyoung's bratty attitude.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you sighed. "She's like that. Thank you very much, too."

"It's nothing, sir," she shook her head. "Sorry again for all this."

And with that, you set out to follow Wonyoung straight to the room, where you entered and slammed the door shut behind you. She immediately turned around and glared at you.

"Tonight was special for me!" she yelled at you. "Why the fuck did you have to show up and ruin everything?! Ugh!"

The moment she said that, you felt rage wash over your body like an uncontrollable tide of bubbling lava.

"Huh? Now it's my damn fault?!" you said, not yelling but with a louder tone than usual. "How the fuck was I supposed to know you were going to be here today?"

"You did it on purpose, you idiot! Surely Yujin told you!" she pointed at you, taking a step forward. "Why else would you be here today?!"

"For fucking work, woman," you replied, also taking a step towards her. "Why the fuck do you think I care enough about you to come here a day early?!"

"Because you hate me, Ezio, that's why!" she took another step towards you and gave you a nudge with her knuckles on your shoulder.

"So what?! You hate me too, you pretentious bitch!"

"I hate you because you hate me, you moron!" another step, now she was less than two feet away from you. "And I hate you because you always go around thinking you're better than everyone else!"

You couldn't help but let out an incredulous laugh.

"The donkey talking about damn ears!" you yelled.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

"That you're the first one to think you're better than everyone! Oh my god!" you growled, frustrated at her cynicism.

"Because I am actually prettier than everyone, asshole!"

Without realizing it, the two of you were now face to face, but you were so furious that you didn't think to step back.

"See? That's your fucking problem and you don't even realize it!"

"So you hate me for being pretty?" she said with a laugh, raising both eyebrows. "Are you fucking retarded or what?!"

"Huh?" you grimaced. "I hate you because you're a fucking pick me bitch and you do nothing but draw all the attention to yourself on purpose!"

"So fucking what?!" she yelled again, so close to your face that you could feel her breathing. "Are you going to cry about it?!"

She continued yelling at you, between insults and rhetorical questions that you didn't hear. For some reason, you took advantage of that moment to scrutinize every detail of her pretty doll-like face, from those bright, round eyes, to her small nose, to her little moles, and finally, those pretty, full lips, which, in an impulse that came from the depths of your heart and you didn't quite know why, you kissed.

Wonyoung accepted your lips with a slight start, but immediately resisted by hitting your chest several times until you moved away with your hands on her waist.

"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" She pushed you away and then gave you a stinging slap. "If you think you can kiss me first, you're so damn wrong!" She grabbed your face with both hands. "Because as a princess, that honor belongs to me!"

And then, in a move you definitely didn't expect, she kissed you.

There was something that felt strangely liberating about that kiss. It didn't feel weird like you thought it would, and the best way you could describe it was like accidentally getting something you didn't know you needed. That satisfaction was directly reflected in how your lips danced fiercely against each other, your heads constantly tilting from side to side.

You couldn't believe you were kissing Jang Wonyoung, possibly the only idol that you automatically got upset about when you saw her. For some reason you were enjoying it, maybe too much, and you couldn't blame yourself for it, she was a whole fucking beauty of a girl after all.

"I've always wanted you, you fucking idiot," she muttered mid-kiss, both hands tightly gripping the hair on the back of your neck. "You're exactly my fucking type. Ashole, fucking ashole."

That only made the anger in you come out again. But it made a revelation come to your mind, so clear that it made you feel stupid for not having had it before.

"I've wanted you too, from the first fucking day," you muttered back, your hands gripping her small waist. "Why do you have to be such a fucking bitch?"

"And you're a bitter fucker," she muttered, lowering a hand to your cock to squeeze it angrily over your sweatpants. "A bitter fucker who makes my pussy drip and doesn't notice."

"That's all your damn fault, woman," you replied, pulling away from her lips to kiss the side of her face and then the right side of her neck. You heard her moan. "Your attitude is a fucking turn off for me."

As you peppered that side of her neck with wet kisses and your hands tightened on her ass, she continued to knead your cock until it was hard.

"Are you so retarded that you couldn't spot the damn signs?" she asked between gasps, shoving her hands under your sweater and then pulling it off. "Fuck, you're even stupider than I thought."

"And what were the signs, huh?" You bit her neck, teeth marking the skin. You also slid your hands under her white sweater and pulled it off in an instant. "Looking at me like I'm a piece of shit? Trying to trample me every time I talk?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Ezio," she gasped, and grabbed onto your hair again as you peppered her collarbone and the center of your chest with kisses. "God, I'm fucking sick and tired of you. I need you to use me like your fucking sex doll."

Wonyoung grabbed you by the waist, turned you around, and pushed you down so you were sitting on the bottom edge of the bed. She then took off her bra, revealing a pair of modest but bigger than you imagined tits, and then she got rid of her denim skirt, which fell to the floor to reveal her white panties.

"It's not enough for you to be a pick me bitch, but now you're a fucking slut too?" you asked, looking at her slim, tight body, as she kicked off her boots.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," she muttered through gritted teeth, and straddled your lap with her hands on your shoulders to crash her lips against yours again.

She began to grind her hips back and forth, with intense, deep movements. You brought your hands to her small waist and then to her small ass, which you squeezed with your fingers before giving her a hard spank that reverberated throughout the room.

Wonyoung moaned and sank her teeth into your bottom lip.

"Mmm fuck yeah daddy," she growled, looking into your eyes. "Again."

You gave her another equally hard spank on the other cheek. She moaned again, grabbed your hair and pulled your head back to dive into your neck with kisses.

"Mmm, you're so fucking sexy, fuck," she gasped, and bit your neck. "Will you do the same fucking me against the wall?"

"I will when you suck my fucking cock, bitch," you replied, giving her another smack that made her moan between kisses.

"Oh yeah?" She lifted her head to look you straight in the eyes. "Then make me, fucker."

You pushed her off you and stood up, grabbing her hair in a rough grip and pulling her off the bed. Wonyoung bit her lip and moaned, falling to her knees in front of you. If that was a challenge, you were more than happy to take it.

"Open your fucking mouth," you said as you quickly pulled down your sweatpants and boxers, releasing your hard cock onto her face.

Wonyoung instantly complied and opened her mouth, tongue sticking out. You then grabbed your cock and buried it inside her mouth. She caught you between her lips, and you grabbed her hair again to move her head along every inch of your shaft, fast and hard.

She let you guide her however you wanted, just being a good girl and sucking every inch of the piece of meat that went in and out of her mouth with those cute, full lips. Thanks to this, the blowjob got sloppy within seconds, as you made her pump her head at a frantic pace.

"Yeah bitch, now choke on that cock," you said, and grabbed another handful of her hair with your free hand to push her head all the way down your shaft.

Wonyoung took the tip of your cock into her throat with gags that made saliva spill out of her mouth. You could tell she was struggling, but from the way she looked at you with dilated pupils and slightly arched eyebrows, you could also tell it made her extra horny.

You let her breathe a couple seconds later. She moaned and bit her lip, jerking you off with tightly clenched fingers.

"Oh god, fuck my face and don't hold back daddy," she told you, her lips spit stained and her eyes glassy. "Or are you a fucking pathetic weakling?"

Your only response to that was to give in to your impulses and give her a slap, exactly like the one she had given you a few minutes ago. She gasped in surprise, but turned her face again almost immediately to open her mouth and stick out her tongue.

"So you like that huh?" you asked, giving her another hard slap on the same side of the face, to which she responded with a moan. "You gonna let me use you as a cum dump, bitch?"

"Any hole you want as long as you do it dirty and not like a fucking pussy," she said, and hit your cock against her tongue.

"Oh don't worry, you can count on that," you replied, and then you grabbed your cock and took it inside Wony's mouth, all the way to the bottom.

This time, it was up to you to control the situation. You started to move your hips hard, fast, with too much pent-up rage being released. Wonyoung stayed still for the first few seconds, hands on her thighs and tongue out as your cock hit her throat over and over again. But as the saliva built up in her mouth and she had a harder time keeping up with that pace, she brought her hands up over your knees to dig her nails into your skin.

"You like it this dirty? Huh?" you growled, watching as you turned that gorgeous doll face of hers into a complete mess, clutching two handfuls of her hair like handles. "Put that fucking throat to work, slut."

You kept thrusting again and again, until you let go of both handfuls of her hair to bring one hand to her neck and the other to the top of her head, and with that push her back so that her neck was bent against the edge of the bed. Then you raised one foot to the matress, pressed her into it and fucked her throat up and down.

Now, Wony was not only gagged, but she was also coughing and choking on her own saliva. You were pushing her beyond her limits, you knew that, but you certainly didn't care and neither did she. Her eyes were still on you, tears spilling out of them; her hands, now clinging to your thighs with trembling fingers and nails well dug into your skin.

After a few seconds you felt close to your climax, so you quickly pulled out Wony's mouth and gave her another slap on the other side of the face.

"Now finish me, bitch," you hissed.

Wony moaned and pushed herself off the mattress to grab your cock soaked in her own saliva, press the tip against her tongue and jerk you off at a speed surprising for such a thin wrist. Just an instant later you exploded with moans, shooting jet after jet of cum onto her tongue.

"Oh fuck yeah," you growled with a hand on her head. 

She caught you between her lips and pumped her head along your shaft, letting you unload inside her mouth and at the same time slurping all the saliva off your cock. When you had left your entire load inside her and your cock stopped throbbing, she pulled you out and stuck her tongue out. Nothing on it.

"See daddy? I'm a good slut," she moaned, and slapped the back of your shaft against her tongue. Her face was still a mess, her cheeks streaked with tears and both her lips and chin stained with saliva. “Don’t I deserve a reward?”

You grabbed her hair, pulled it back, and moved within inches of her face.

“I’ll decide when you deserve a fucking reward,” you said, and spat out a good amount of saliva that you had accumulated on her face. “Do you understand that?”

“God, just fuck me and destroy my pussy, Ezio,” she whimpered, reaching a hand inside her panties to touch herself. “I’ve been waiting for over a fucking year.”

“Too bad for you,” your lips curved into a small, wicked smile before giving her a small kiss. “The wait would have been shorter if you hadn’t been such a fucking despicable bitch this whole time.”

“Ugh you’re such a fucking bastard!” she squealed, and you pulled her up to her feet.

"A fucking bastard who's got your pussy dripping wet," you said, replacing her hand with yours inside her panties. She wrapped her arms around your neck and clung to you.

"And also a fucking cute bastard who I'd kiss all night if I didn't want to punch him in the face," she managed to say between moans, while you kissed the left side of her neck and rubbed your fingers up and down her slit.

"Then do it, bitch," you growled, and raised your face to look into her eyes. "You don't have the fucking nerve."

Wony untangled one of her arms from around your neck and slapped you, which met the standard of intensity you'd been carrying so far.

"And ruin that gorgeous face of yours?" She bit your bottom lip, and then slapped you again, harder. "I would never dare. But seeing it marked in red by my hand is sexy."

With a growl of frustration at how stupidly insane she was, you wrapped your free arm around her waist, joined your lips with hers, and walked with her to the opposite side of the room, where there was a built-in worktop with a wooden desk; you sat her on it and spread her legs wide.

"I'm sorry, but your fucking panties bother me," you said against her lips, and in a small display of savagery, you ripped them from her crotch and let the shreds fall to the floor. Then your hand returned to her slit. "Hmm, what should I do with this nice wet pussy?"

"Eat it? Fuck it and fill it?" she asked, and kissed your chin as you rubbed her clit in circles. "I don't fucking know, god, at this point do whatever you want with me daddy."

"That's an excellent answer," you smiled, and slowly brought two fingers inside her. Wony held onto your shoulders and stifled a moan against her pursed lips. "Is the despicable bitch in you wearing off?"

"Fuck you, motherfucker," she hissed, and leaned forward to bite your jaw as your fingers sank completely inside her pussy. "You're lucky you drive me crazy."

"Oh yeah?" you murmured, pumping your wrist in a steady, hard rhythm.

Wony took a moment to lean her head against the TV behind her and arch her back, melting under the steady, increasingly faster pumping of your fingers, which made her pussy fill the room with wet sounds. A few seconds later she was able to open her eyes and look at you between adorable moans.

"Yes daddy," she nodded between moans. "You drive me fucking insane, and I fucking hate you because you're not mine."

You snaked an arm behind her lower waist and held her close, now fingering her as fast as you could. She gripped the sides of your neck with her hands, and held your gaze as she gave in to the pleasure.

"I thought it was because I think I'm better than everyone," you said, raising an eyebrow.

Wony rolled her eyes back and bit her lip. From the way her fingers tightened on your neck you could tell you were taking her downhill.

"Yeah, and that's so fucking hot," she gasped, her face becoming more twisted and flushed. "But I also hate other fucking bitches touching you, mmmgh!" She arched her back, pressing her sexy abdomen against your newly hard cock. "If I could lock you in my fucking room to have you all to myself I would do it without a fucking doubt!"

Those were her last words before she hugged your neck and came around your fingers. Her face as she writhed in ecstasy and moaned like a princess was like watching Turandot in the front row; a mesmerizing work of art that was burned into your memory from the first moment. A fucking beauty, like very few you had ever seen in your life.

For which you still felt an incalculable amount of rage.

"You're not ready yet, bitch," you hissed, fingering her just as fast through her orgasm and making her squirm desperately. "Cum again damn it."

"Ugh just fuck me you fucking piece of shit!" she whimpered, and she slammed a closed fist into your chest as her hips shook. "Fuck fuck fuck!!"

Despite her complaints, your commands sank into her body and made her react against her will. It wasn't even ten seconds after her orgasm passed until another followed, making her shake and you double-duty to keep her from knocking the TV over. With another girl that would have been enough, but you weren't sated yet.

"Please Ezio, please!" she whimpered with tear-filled eyes, and she put a hand on your head to hold onto your hair as you continued to move your wrist as if nothing had happened. "You can do the same with your cock inside me! Please!"

"I don't care," you growled, beads of sweat falling down both sides of your temple. "Shut the fuck up and cum. Cum, bitch, cum!"

"Mmmgh!! Fuuuuckk!" she screamed, pulling your hair and hitting you several times in the chest before cumming again, and now with an added surprise.

You finally pulled your fingers out of Wony's pussy when she squirted and made a complete mess, wetting part of your arm and the floor beneath your feet. The way she writhed was absurdly sexy, and you took a step back just to admire her in detail, noticing how her legs couldn't stop shaking and her mouth remained half-open, paralyzed.

"Now you deserve a reward," you said between gasps of exhaustion, your wrist feeling like it was going to melt, and you walked over to her again to wrap your arms around her waist and pull her down from the counter.

"You're a fucking insufferable son of a bitch," Wony said, and gave you another punch to the chest as you carried her up with one arm to the back of the room, where there was a single chair, a small circular table, and a double couch that you sat on.

“And?” You raised an eyebrow, and pulled her by the hand so she straddled you. Wony cupped your face in her hands, and now her touch felt so delicate that it sent shivers down your spine.

“And I won’t let you out of this room until you’ve made me cum at least four more times,” she said before kissing you again.

Wony wrapped her arms around your neck, and you wrapped yours around her small waist. You ran your hands over every corner of her back, and then down to her surprisingly round and firm ass to grope it. The back of your cock was pressed between her folds, and at the feel of it, Wony ground her hips slowly to rub your crotches together.

You pulled away from her lips to move down and kiss her collarbone, now letting yourself drift towards her small, pretty tits to suck, lick, and eat them in every way possible. Wony moaned into your ear, the lobe of which she bit on before she made you look at her.

“I’d love to ride you, daddy,” she made a cute pout. “But you’ve already exhausted me for that.”

“Can you at least stand up?” you said, both hands on her thighs.

“I think so.” she nodded. “For now.”

Perfect. Because you had something in mind since you saw her naked in the first place.

You stood up from the couch with her in your arms and carried her to the left, towards where the window was. You pulled the curtains wide open, revealing the bright nightscape of Tokyo. Wony was smart enough to lower herself, turn around and rest her hands on the glass, her pretty face now illuminated by the lights of the buildings as she bent over for you.

“You’re a good fucking girl huh?” you said behind her, hands on her waist before spanking her. Wony squealed and looked at you over her shoulder.

“I’m a good fucking girl for daddy,” she nodded. “Do I deserve my reward already?”

You gave her another smack on the other cheek, both now with bright red marks on the skin.

“Shut up, you impatient whore,” you said, and pulled her by the neck towards you, speaking in her ear. “I’ll make you perform in a wheelchair tomorrow.”

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“You’d do me a big favor,” she said, and licked you from your chin to the tip of your nose.

Unwilling to continue playing with her for the sake of both of you, you spit on your cock, picked it up, and brought it between her ass cheeks. Wony held your gaze, and you watched her face twist closely as you slowly sank into her suffocatingly tight pussy.

“Oh god, keep going,” she moaned with her eyes on you as half of your shaft was inside her. “Put it all inside me daddy.”

The words got stuck in your throat as you pushed forward and every inch of your cock was inside what was possibly the tightest pussy you were ever going to experience in your whole life. You tried to say something, but all you ended up doing was kissing her and stifling a satisfied moan against her lips.

Wony, clinging to your forearm and your hand on her neck, let you take control of the kiss and use your tongue as much as you wanted as you began to move back and forth. You made sure every inch of throbbing flesh went in and out of her slim body, and she was forced to part from your lips to try and take in everything she was feeling at that moment.

“You’re bulging my fucking belly oh my god,” she moaned, giving you little kisses on the side of your face.

You placed the hand you had on her waist on her lower abdomen to check, and sure enough, you could feel your tip bulge against her skin every time you pumped forward. That wasn't something new for you, but doing it to her gave you an extra boost of horniness, and if before you were determined to leave her crippled for a whole day, now it was your damn life mission.

"Come on slut, let all of Tokyo watch you being fucking railed," you panted in her ear, and put a hand on the back of her neck to press her face against the glass.

Wony rested her hands on the glass and looked at you out of the corner of her eye, face pressed against the window. You brought one hand to the back of her head and grabbed a good handful of shiny brown hair, while the other hand was left on her waist. Now you fucked her hard, fast, letting the rage in you flow just like when you fucked her throat.

"Does my cock satisfy you enough?" you asked between gasps, watching as it disappeared between her ass cheeks with each thrust. "Or are you going to complain about it like the fucking spoiled brat you are?"

"Why?" she asked, and managed a cocky smile despite being absolutely railed. "Are you gonna cry to that little whore Hanni Pham if I hurt your feelings?"

Oh hell nah. That was hitting a very, very soft spot for you, and she knew it. Hats off to her. It was an easy way to piss you off, and since you were completely done avoiding giving her what she wanted at this point, you gave her the victory and started to unload spanks, one after another, with your palm wide open and as hard as you could.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes!" Wony moaned with each spank, staring at you. "Harder, motherfucker, harder!!"

You didn't know if you could do it 'harder' than you were already doing, but you still made a little extra effort. By the time your arm tired, Wony's buttocks looked like two freshly picked cherries and her legs were wobbly in an attempt to stay upright.

"Like that?! Huh?!" you hissed, and grabbed her hair into a ponytail to pull her towards you.

"Yes!! Just like fucking that daddy, fuck!" she replied between unbridled whimpers, with nowhere else to look but the city. "Oh my god I'm going to cum, keep going, keep going!!"

Not even a minute passed when her words came true. Wony came in a tide of attacking spasms that threatened to make her fall to the floor if it weren't for the fact that you held her tightly and she pushed her hips back, preventing you from moving until her orgasm passed.

But almost instantly after she relaxed her body, you regained control and put a hand on the back of her head to push her against the glass with a downright dangerous blow. She only moaned in a mix of pleasure and pain, her mouth half open and her brow furrowed as you fucked her like an animal again.

"Fill me daddy, please!" She pleaded, miraculously still standing even though her pretty long legs looked like they were about to fall apart. “I can’t feel my damn legs anymore!”

“Oh yeah? I’m fucking glad.”

You pulled her hair again, this time to wrap your arms around her body and hold her against you, one hand tightening on her neck and the other on her pussy to rub in quick circles. Wony squealed and dropped her head to rest on your left shoulder, exposing her neck for you to kiss, suck and bite until she came again.

“For the love of fucking god fill my pussy already!!” she screamed in the middle of her climax, voice raspy from the grip of your fingers on her throat. “Please daddy!”

You didn’t wait for her second orgasm to pass before you turned around with her and walked her to the bed, where you threw her down with a rough push. Wony fell face down, and you quickly positioned yourself above her with your knees on either side of her hips. You brought your cock inside her again, and dropped forward to rest your forearms on either side of her head.

Wony quickly sought out your lips, and you accepted them as you pumped your hips up and down. You then wrapped one of your arms around her neck, and swirled your tongues together with moans from both sides.

When you felt your climax approaching, you let go of her neck and lifted your body, grabbing a handful of Wony's hair and pushing her head against the mattress, causing her hair to cover part of her sweaty face. The other hand went to the back of her neck, where you gripped your fingers before fiercely fucking her pussy against the mattress.

"Cum daddy..." she managed to say between pretty whimpers and the little breath you left her with each thrust. "I told you I'd be your cum dump, well fucking use me."

Coming from her, you didn't expect those words to sink into your bones as much as they did at that very moment, greatly accelerating your climax and making your body work on its own. It was such a magnitude of the damn spell, that you didn't even realize you'd cum until Wony began to moan in satisfaction.

"Oh fuck yes!" she growled, and bit the sheets beneath her as you filled her tight little pussy with deep thrusts. "It feels so warm, god. Are you sure you don't want to be mine alone?"

Still panting and not fully taking in how good it felt to cum inside her, you raised an eyebrow at that last bit.

"Why, are you going to drug me with chloroform and kidnap me if I refuse?" you asked, and removed your hand from her head and neck to let yourself fall forward and pepper her jaw with kisses.

"It won't be necessary," Wony replied, and turned her face to kiss you in a way so cute it seemed unlike her. "Because I highly doubt you'll refuse anytime soon."

Once you dumped all of your load inside her, you pulled out and laid on your side next to her.

"If you stop being a spoiled bitch, maybe," you said, pulling her on top of you to wrap your arms around her body and kiss her. You felt your own cum drip down to your thigh from her pussy.

Wony cupped your face in her pretty hands and gently ran one through your hair before pulling away from your lips.

"That's like asking me to stop breathing," she said with an innocent smirk, and she pushed herself off you to turn around and bend over your thigh, sticking her tongue out and licking up the little pool of cum that had spilled from inside of her.

After cleaning up the little mess she'd made on your leg, the only thing left to do was your cock, which she grabbed by the base and took straight into her mouth. You were still a little sensitive, but of course she didn't give a damn about this, she slurped up every inch of flesh without caring how you felt. Within seconds, however, you could appreciate how amazing she was at giving head, and how good her plump lips felt running up and down your shaft.

Her pretty ass, full of bright red marks on each butt cheek, was to the side of your face; you groped it, with gentle squeezes and caresses so as not to make the marks of your hands on her skin sting. You were taking care of her indirectly, and when you realized it, you quickly gave her a spank to make up for it. Wony moaned as she pumped her head and turned to look at you.

“Mmm, you still have some for me right?” she asked after pulling you out of her mouth, and placed wet kisses around your tip. “Yujin told me you can cum up to four times before you get tired.”

“I definitely have more for you,” you replied. “But that bitch lied to you.”

Not really. But that night had been special since Yujin looked absurdly hot in that tight black leather outfit.

“Three then?”

“Three,” you nodded. “And I know exactly what to do with the third bullet so get up here.”

“I told you I can barely feel my legs, Ezio, are you fucking deaf or what?” she raised an eyebrow as she straddled your abdomen.

"You won't have to use them, dumbass, and turn around," you motioned with your finger.

Wony frowned in confusion and complied with the order. You noticed that she genuinely had trouble lifting her legs, so you had to give her a small hand. When she was finally sitting with her back to you, you pulled her hair so that she was lying with her back pressed to your chest, and you grabbed her legs behind her knees to lift them up and pull them towards you in a full nelson position.

"Put it inside you, slut," you said, as you had your arms busy holding her legs.

She reached between her legs and grabbed your cock to take it inside her pussy herself. Wony delighted you again with a cute moan, as you held her head, planted your feet on the mattress and began to move your hips up and down, quickly picking up the pace until you were eventually drilling her pussy.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!!” Wony screamed, so loud it seemed like she would tear her throat out. “Motherfucker you’re destroying my cervix oh my god!!”

Along with her moans, the room echoed with the deafening sound of her body being nearly torn in half by your animalistic and careless thrusts. In the end, your promise about making her perform on a wheelchair was going to come true. Pretty reckless on your part honestly. In fact, you were afraid of what might happen to you if her manager found out the real reason for her inability to dance.

But there were hundreds of possible excuses. Besides, it was common for some idols to perform sitting on a chair when they had physical problems, right? Wony was pretty enough to attract attention anyway; she didn’t have too much to worry about, and certainly neither did you. That was why you were going all in, no holds barred when it came to giving her a fuck she would remember for the rest of her life.

"Yes daddy fuck yes!!" Wony moaned with her head hanging back, clinging to your forearms and with her hair—which by the way had a delicious vanilla and jasmine scent—covering your face. "It feels so goooood!!!

After that scream to the ceiling Wony came again on your cock, and you felt the muscles in her thighs contract and tremble under your fingers. You let go of her legs and wrapped your arms around her torso. She was again lying against your chest, and you kissed her neck as she moaned in your ear.

"Don't you dare stop you fucking asshole," she managed to gasp in your ear, even though her legs were still shaking. "If you don't make me cum at least two more times I'll have to tell your slut girlfriend that you're such a lame fuck."

And there she went again, like the fucking despicable bitch she was, mentioning the most important person in your life right now to add fuel to the fire. Luckily for her, you were quite susceptible to provocation at the moment, so you immediately pulled out of her, pushed her off you, and got on top of her. Wony was still obviously unable to move her legs on her own, so you grabbed them again, spread them wide, and pushed them back before thrusting back into her. You then leaned forward to look into her eyes, holding her legs with your torso.

"Keep my girl's name out of your fucking mouth, bitch," you hissed, and began fucking her again.

"Or-what?" Wony asked, panting, jerking back and forth from your thrusts. "I can say whatever the f..."

You cut her off with a slap.

"What was that?" You asked, thrusting fast and deep. “I didn’t hear you, bitch.”

“I said… Mmmgh!” another slap on the same side of her face from you. “Fuck!”

As you watched her cheekbone redden, you brought your hand to her long neck and tightened your fingers there. Wony tried to say something else, but the sound came out barely in a raspy whisper. She then closed her eyes, opened her mouth in a permanent O shape and frowned in a sexy display of pleasure.

“So you like that huh?” you said, straightening your back a little to add pressure to her neck. “Who knew you’d be such a S&M slut.”

Another attempt to speak from her, and only a weak cough. Seconds later she squeezed her eyes shut and raised her hips. The way she pursed her lips and began to squirm were indicative that she had come again, but you didn't stop, instead you switched the hand on her neck to the left, and used the right one to slap her again.

Wony opened her eyes now teary to look at you with arched eyebrows. You looked down, intending to admire how your cock bulged that tight belly every time it went inside. The hot and lascivious scene triggered all your senses, and made you turn on the overdrive so that in a sudden burst of energy, you gave her the most aggressive thrusts of the night.

"Now you're not saying shit, are you?" you gritted your teeth, and added another hand to her neck to squeeze it harder. "Wanna say something bitch? You fucking can't because you're a fucking masochistic whore."

You leaned towards her and spit in her open mouth. Wony closed her eyes again, and you felt her try to scream from the depths of her throat in vain as she came again. You didn't stop. More thrusts as she squirmed, and your persistence only made her cum one last time. By then, her pussy was so tight and felt so good around your cock that you felt your own climax just around the corner.

Wony was finally able to breathe properly as you let go of her neck and pulled off your cock. She opened her eyes and looked up at you as you straddled her chest, and despite breathing like she was on the line of life and death, she raised her neck and presented her cute little face to you; seconds later, you were turning her into a beautiful painting worthy of Tintoretto himself.

Every corner of her face was being covered in cum, with most of the spurts landing around her nose, under her eyes, and on her beautiful lips. By the time you finished draining yourself, you fell to the side and lay on your back, breathing heavily. That had definitely been your last bullet. But that only made you think like a normal person again.

What the fuck had you done?

Turning to look at Wony you could tell she was asking herself the exact same question. You expected her to make one of her usual comments, but she didn't say anything, she just stared at the ceiling with her face covered in cum and her chest rising and falling. Fuck, you had lost count of how many times you had made her cum. That girl was sure not going to be able to dance tomorrow.

You sat up after a couple minutes and looked into each other's eyes.

"Uh... I'll get some toilet paper," you said.

"Yeah… sure," she nodded.

Silence reigned in the room as you went to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper and returned to Wony. It was a rather tedious cleaning session, since you had left several places in the room dirty. Of course you had to start with her face, then you went to the TV area and finally near the window. Needless to say, all the work had fallen on you, since Wony couldn't stand up. You even helped her put on her panties and gave her one of your oversized t-shirts so you wouldn't have to snoop through her things.

By the time you were done you were dressed again too, in sport shorts and a hoodie. Wony had made herself comfortable under the blanket already, on the left side of the bed, but you didn't join her, instead you went to the couch and made yourself comfortable there in the most awkward way possible.

"What the hell are you doing?" you heard Wony ask you, as you were already curled into the fetal position (the only possible position in that space).

"I know you don't want to sleep with me," you said, pulling the hood of your hoodie up and closing your eyes. "And frankly I don't either."

There were a few long seconds of silence.

"Ezio, don't be a fucking idiot and come here," she finally said. "The bed is big enough for both of us."

"Why do you suddenly care?" you asked. "Anyone would think you'd be too self-centered to even share a bed."

You heard her growl in frustration.

"Do you want to wake up with a bad back?" she asked. "Get in bed right now!"

As much as it stung, you had to accept that order for the sake of your back and your comfort, since that damn couch was certainly not suitable for sleeping under any circumstances. With a huff, you stood up and went to the bed, where you crawled under the covers next to her but leaving a good gap between you.

"The blanket isn't that big, so I hope you're not a restless sleeper," you told her, turning your back to her.

"I'm not," Wony replied from the other side of the bed. "And even if I was, I'm a fucking cripple right now."

"Good," you said, closing your eyes again. "Good night."

"Good night," she repeated.

The next morning you felt particularly comfortable and warm when you regained consciousness. What had woken you up was the sunlight, filtering freely through the window whose curtains you had left wide open. You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see Wony at the other end of the bed.

But she was in your arms, curled up against your chest and hugging you. Even your legs were intertwined. You immediately frowned, wondering how the hell that had happened and searching through your memory.

When the memories came back to you, everything was much easier to decipher. She and you, at some point in the early morning and for some reason, sleepy, moved around the bed looking for each other. First Wony had hugged you from behind, and when you turned around, you were the one who was the big spoon. Finally, she had turned around and curled up against you, the position you were still in until that moment.

You didn't see it appropriate to wake her up, so you just waited as long as necessary, completely still and lost in your thoughts. Wony woke up around twenty minutes later, yawning and rubbing her eyes, and upon noticing the situation you were in, she froze.

"Uhm... Ezio, what are we doing?" she asked with her hands on your chest, looking into your eyes.

"I... I don't know," you replied, still hugging her. "I honestly don't know."

Again, silence. But it wasn't an awkward silence, as you were unable to feel that tension that was always between you again. Rather, you felt the purest calm.

"At least you slept well?" you asked, looking back into her eyes.

She nodded softly.

"Perfectly," she replied, lost in your eyes. "Better than ever, honestly, and you?"

"Comfortable, very comfortable," you replied back, also lost in her gaze.

Both of your gazes then shifted to a single possible place. You looked at her lips, which were just inches away from yours. She looked back at yours, and with a quick glance into her eyes, it was easy to understand that you both wanted it. So you finally kissed.

This time you were able to properly enjoy Wony's lips, in a slow, careful kiss that was totally in contrast to what had happened last night. Wony cupped your face with her gentle hands, and you held her waist with one hand while caressing her shoulder with the other. You completely lost track of time as you kissed, but you were sure that a while had passed by the time you pulled away.

"Ezio... I'm sorry," she said against your lips.

"Why?"

She looked into your eyes.

"Because of everything we've been through," she replied. "I'm... not really like that."

"Huh?" you frowned. "But yesterday you said that..."

"I was just playing along, fool," she nudged you affectionately with her hand on your chest. "I've never hated you, but you know... you do me, and I apologize for that."

"Jang Wonyoung, you've been acting like a bitch ever since I met you and now you come to tell me that you're not really like that?"

"It's the attitude I learned to have in order to survive this shitty industry," she looked down. "You can't act fragile and naive, Ezio... Everyone has their own method to deal with media pressure and competition. It works for me to believe I'm better than everyone else, even though I know I'm not."

"But..."

"It's true that over time I didn't tolerate you for being such an insufferable whiner about my personality, but I never hated you."

"Last night you almost had security kick me out of the room when you found me here."

"Because I hated to think that after such a nice night I'd have to deal with your hatred for me," she said, still looking down as she scribbled on your chest with her finger. "And that shit stresses me out."

"So..." you looked at her in silence.

Wony finally looked up to meet your eyes.

"You've been hating just a disguise all this time," she replied. "I'll explain anything you want, really."

"No... you don't have to explain anything right now, but I'll think of questions to ask you," you said, somewhat flabbergasted. "Actually, I have a good one: what's the real you like, then?"

She gave you a cute smirk.

"You can find that out for yourself, honey," she replied, and grabbed your hoodie to pull you into another kiss.

You kissed back gladly, but you felt like the biggest idiot for being such a dick for so long. How the fuck could you not hate her? You never really talked to her, and you never gave her the chance to get close to you in a friendly way either because you always repelled her with your obvious dislike for her. Plus, it only made you realize something else.

She was one of the most gorgeous human beings you knew, and on top of that she was actually a sweet and kind person? Oh my god. Fuck no.

As the minutes passed, you broke the kiss, and you found yourself caressing her face with one of your thumbs.

"Do you want me to order us breakfast?" you asked against her lips, giving them small kisses.

"I'd love that," she nodded. "And watch something on TV together?"

You couldn't help but smile, but you cursed in your head.

Karma was a fucking bitch. A cruel one.

—————————–

As always. Thanks for reading! MASTERLIST HERE!

[prongsx]

Favors in exchange for kisses

warnings: kisses, English its not my first language, small mention of blood. f!reader

1,5 K words

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You don't know exactly how you got into this situation with Jason. But you're not complaining.

It started months ago, when your long-time friend Dick Grayson heard you complaining about not having a place to live and mentioned that he knew someone you could trust to share an apartment with, with his brother, Jason Todd.

You were hesitant to accept, after all, you didn't know Jason Todd, but this was Gotham, and finding someone you could trust to share an apartment with was almost impossible. And it would only be for a while.So you went to live with Dick Grayson's brother.

Jason was kind of quiet, mysterious, and his blue eyes left you a little confused and breathless. It took you a while to be able to have meaningful conversations with him, it was hard to learn more about him, but little by little you won a small space in his life.You discovered his favorite books, learned his schedule, understood how sometimes he didn't want to talk, other times he was more open, and you learned to appreciate those moments when you both talked, laughed and smiled softly.

Then came the biggest problem.

Jason was too helpful.

You simply didn't know how to deal with someone who did so many acts of service. When he found out that banana pancakes were your favorite, he woke up early and cooked them. When you complained about that wood that was making noise in the living room, he fixed it immediately. Even when carrying your bag down the street, he would magically appear and hold it. Your coffee was always with those three drops of milk, just the way you liked it.

And when you tried to reciprocate, he seemed almost offended. Like the time you made a big meal, he was offended, you seemed tired from the effort and he didn't like that. Even when you cleaned his things he seemed irritated, you weren't supposed to do things for him.

After months of looking for ways to thank him for his helpfulness, you discovered it in an unusual way. Your room wasn't fully furnished, even months after moving in you were still buying furniture and needing to assemble it. Jason dismissed all the delivery people from the store and said he would assemble it himself, using the excuse that he didn't like strangers in his space.

"You spoil me," you joked with him, sitting on the floor as you watched Jason working on your new vanity. It wasn't a bad sight, Jason's large hands proving skillful and efficient, his t-shirt revealing his biceps that made you a little dizzy.

"I find doing manual labor relaxing." He replied, glancing at you and smiling slightly. You hummed in response, resting your chin on your knees and admiring Jason. You wanted so badly to find something to thank him for, something to show him that you were grateful for him.

When he finally finished the job, he stood up and held out his hand to help you. After gaining momentum, your hands instinctively went to his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you so much, Jay."

He was silent, you were silent. It seemed too intimate a touch, you were nervous, afraid he wouldn't like it, that he would ask you to never touch him again, which would be a shame because your hands could feel the heat of his skin. Then he smiled. He smiled, a dimple in his cheek.

"Nothing, princess."

After that, the touches became more frequent. Every time he did something adorable, you would touch his arms or his hand. Like the time he carried all your college books for meters and you held his hand in thanks (you stayed like that for longer than usual).

Another big step was when you arrived tired, from a horrible day, and you found Jason smiling shyly at you, the apartment smelling of your favorite food. As you washed dishes side by side, your hips touching, you lifted your feet and kissed his cheek, whispering a thank you. His reaction was adorable, his neck slightly red, his eyes blinking at you in a silly way that made you smile back.

So you continued, becoming a little bolder every time he did something to please you. It seemed impossible now to go back to the time when you didn't touch him, and you could swear he liked it. There were times when you could almost feel him sigh when your kiss on his cheek went all the way to his jaw.

When he came back from patrol, bruised and bleeding, he wouldn't let you help him. He would never dirty your soft hands with his blood. But he enjoyed it when you sat next to him, stroking his hair and talking to him in that calm tone, trying to make him relax with more pleasant conversations. A routine was established.

Jason was a little quiet sometimes. At first you thought he was grumpy and moody, but you soon discovered that he was just someone with poor social skills, and you managed to establish a way to show that you cared about each other.

"Hum, I stopped by the pharmacy, but your order had already been picked up." You jumped, startled by Jason's sudden arrival. For such a big guy, he had an impressive ability to be silent. Damn Batman training.

"Jay, hi." You greeted, as you leaned on the kitchen counter, casually scrolling through your phone. "Dick got it for me, he was just passing by."

He fell silent, making you look up from your phone to look at him. Jason's eyebrows were furrowed, his lips forming a frown.

"Why?" You blinked slowly.

"Why what?"

"Why Dick got it for you. I was going to get it for you." He looked almost... annoyed, frustrated that he hadn't gotten the product for you.

You blinked slowly again, tilting your head.

"He...was closer. I didn't mean to bother you."

He let out a huff, looking annoyed, like when a dog sees his owner reading a newspaper another dog brought.

"Jay?" You called out to him, almost shivering when his blue orbs stared at you.

"I'm the one who does your things. Why is that idiot Dick getting involved?"

"I don't want you to feel like you're my employee, that's all."

He huffed again, looking indignant. Another problem with Jason Todd: he didn't say what he was feeling, it was like trying to win the lottery with blurry numbers. Then he approached you, his posture looking like he was preparing to interrogate a criminal, his hands resting on the counter.

"Did you kiss him?"It certainly wasn't what you expected to hear. Your mouth fell open, your eyes wide.

"What?"

It was the only intelligent thing your lips formed.Jason still had that indignant look on his face, his blue eyes half-closed. He was too close and you felt a little cornered, the kitchen seemed small, the air harder to breathe. You stared back at him.

"Why do you think I kissed Dick?" You repeated, still that confused expression. You would be offended if your brain was working perfectly.

"You kiss me when I do favors for you!" He murmurs.

Oh. That was it.

You let out a breath, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

"Jason. Do you think I kiss the mailman every time he brings letters?"

"God, I hope not."

You both stay silent, your hands going to the hem of his shirt, unable to control yourself, squeezing it between your fingers, the weight of the unspoken words.

"Jay. You know...you don't have to do me favors to receive my affection, right?" You whispered, your eyes roaming all over his face, his beautiful features, his slightly crooked nose, his lips that looked so kissable.

"But I like it. I like taking care of you. Fuck, I want to take care of you always."

He himself seemed shocked by the intensity of the words, his eyes widening, his heart beating out of control, just like yours.

"Jay." You let out a breath, your hands rising to his face, caressing his cheekbones. You shivered when his hands held your hips, keeping you firmly against the counter. You didn't know what it would be like to kiss Jason, of course, you had already thought about it a lot, more than was healthy.

And when you finally pulled his face to you, pressing your lips, slightly chapped but still soft, against his. You dominated the kiss for a few seconds, being gentle as you held his face, but then something seemed to snap in Jason, he held you with impressive ease, pressing your hips against the counter and thrusting his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your soft moan. His hands were all over your body, hungry, as if he couldn't lose you.

"Only I can take care of you," he growled against your lips, his breathing heavy.

"Yes. yes," you said, caught in the haze of Jason's kisses, your eyes almost closing again.

"Good," he whispered, before kissing you again, fiercely, his hands gripping the back of your neck.

You were fine with this deal of favors in exchange for kisses.

⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷《 ✮ 》⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷

Inspired by a post I saw about Jason's love languages headcanon. Jaybean is just a guy who doesn't know how to show love in a normal way!!! But we love him anyway. I hope you liked it! I'm very happy to start posting things here, slowly gaining courage.

[jamminvroomvroom]

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

-

whoops? lol

-

taglist

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[flowersforbucky]

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

word count: 4.9k

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending, 18+ only

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

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thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

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wanna see? | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

summary: during a night of heavy drinking, y/n tells chris that her roommate, who had slept with him weeks prior, had been less than impressed by his skills in the bedroom. chris asks if y/n believes her roommate, and when she says she does, he decides to prove her wrong.

warnings: SMUTTTTT; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); p in v; DIRTY TALK; unprotected sex; drinking; spanking; ROUGH; 18+

notes: not to gas myself up but...this smut...is insane. i literally wrote all of this in like three hours idk what happened i think my body was taken over by my hormone monster or some shit. but anyways i hope u chris girlies enjoy <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

“Y/n! Our Uber is two minutes away, are you ready?” My roommate Bree called from the other side of my bedroom door just as I finished applying my lip gloss. “Yep! I’ll be out in a second.” I replied, taking one final look at myself in the full length mirror and adjusting my pleated mini skirt. Satisfied with my appearance, I finally exited my room and found Bree struggling to tie her corset top up herself. “Oh god, let me help.” I sighed, grabbing her shoulders to turn her around so that I could lace her up. “Thanks babe. Oh my god, you look unreal!” She exclaimed, facing me once I was finished, and I smiled sheepishly. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I looked down at my tiny skirt, low cut top, and chunky boots self consciously. “Absolutely fucking not. As a matter of fact I think you should wear that outfit every day for the rest of your life.” She replied before poking my cleavage playfully. I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Oh shut up, let’s go.” I shoved her shoulder jokingly and we both headed for the front door of our apartment.

“So,” I began once we got on the elevator, “Who’s all gonna be there tonight?” Bree’s fingers were flying across the keyboard on her phone, frantically texting someone. “Um…the usual group I think, probably gonna be a few other random people we don’t know yet, but Nick told me they’re keeping it pretty small this year.” She replied as we got into our Uber and I nodded in acknowledgment.

We were heading to the triplets’ house to celebrate their 21st birthday. Bree and I had met Nick Matt and Chris about a year ago, and the five of us had grown extremely close since then. It was a short drive from our place to theirs, but still I pulled out two mini bottles of tequila and handed one to Bree. She raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “We didn’t have time for a pre game.” I said simply before raising my bottle to cheers her. She laughed before doing the same, and we both took our shot. “Fucking ew,” She said, shuddering, “I hate tequila.” It was my turn to laugh. “The first shot is always the worst, remember?” She nodded hesitantly. “True enough.”

“So…you think things are gonna be weird with you and Chris? This is the first time you’ve seen him since-” Bree cut me off by waving her hand nonchalantly. “Nah, it’ll be fine. For him it meant nothing, and you already know what it was for me.” I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.

A few weeks ago, I was awoken from my sleep at 3 a.m. by Bree barging into my room to tell me that she had just slept with Chris. This news shocked me, since I knew that she had been pining after Matt since we first met them. When I asked her to explain how the fuck that happened, her only explanation was that she was drunk enough to pretend that Chris was Matt. Initially, I had been concerned that their intimacy would make things weird in our group, but both of them seemed to be completely unbothered by it.

“Alright well, let’s just enjoy the night.” I said as our Uber pulled up to the house. “And who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky with the right triplet tonight.” I joked before walking up to the front door, side by side with Bree. She sighed. “Probably not. Pretty sure all hope of that disappeared once I opened my legs for his brother.”

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Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I realized that I was drunk. Bree and I had arrived at the house about an hour ago, and we both immediately took three tequila shots back to back in honour of the triplets’ birthday. Thirty minutes later, we took another trio of shots, and that was more than enough to get me absolutely wasted. I haphazardly reapplied my lipgloss before exiting the washroom and heading back over to the kitchen to grab something else to drink.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Shouted Nick over the loud music before rushing from the cluster of people he was with and grabbing the bottle of tequila from my hand. “Pretty sure you don’t need any more of that right now. How about some water?” He phrased it like a question, but didn’t wait for me to respond before grabbing a solo cup and filling it with water. I made a weak attempt at protesting, but deep down I knew that he was right; I was so far gone and the night was still young. “Thanks Nicky.” I said once he brought me the cup of water, and he rolled his eyes. “Ew. Don’t call me that. Now come over here and hang out with us.” He led me to the kitchen table, where him, Chris, Matt, Nate, and a few of their other friends were chatting.

“Hey Y/n, you want a shot?” Nate asked, a bottle of vodka gleaming in his hand. Just as I was about to respond, Nick cut me off with an aggressive “No!”, causing me to pout. “Oh yeah, you’re wasted kid.” Chris said with a shot glass in his hand. I looked at him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and blood shot eyes. “Yeah well so are you.” I retorted weakly, and he chuckled. “It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He said before immediately lifting his glass to cheers with the rest of the group.

I stood there sipping my water slowly as they all took their shots, my eyes focused on Chris’ sharp jaw as he grimaced from the taste of the alcohol. I continued to watch his mouth as he spoke to the person to his right, caught in a drunk trance and intrigued by the rosy colour of his lips.

If I was being honest, I had felt a certain attraction towards Chris since I met him. It wasn’t exactly a crush, and I certainly didn’t have any sort of serious feelings for him, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t ever been tempted to go there with him before. There was a time, early on in our friendship, where we almost crossed that line.

I had been helping him hang posters on the wall above his bed, when he suddenly tackled me onto the mattress. It started off playful, but after a few moments of us play fighting, he ended up on top of me and the mood in the room completely changed. The smiles on our faces disappeared, and I felt my heart begin to race as his lips moved closer and closer to mine. Just as our lips brushed, the sound of Matt’s footsteps coming down the basement stairs caused us to jump apart, and we never spoke of that moment again.

Outside of that time, him and I had only ever acted as very good friends. As a matter of fact, out of all of the triplets I definitely got along with Chris the best. We both had similar personalities, and could joke around without worrying about hurting each other’s feelings.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Nick’s voice to my left. “Y/n, did I tell you how unbelievably hot you look tonight?” I giggled, noticing that his voice was beginning to sound slurred even to me, so he was clearly drunk. “You did, but thank you Nick.” I replied, smoothing down my skirt and batting my eyelashes jokingly in his direction. I thoughtlessly glanced at Chris, and found his glossy eyes trailing slowly down my figure; clearly admiring my outfit.

“Hey Y/n, have you seen Bree?” Asked Nate, and I looked around the room quickly, realizing that I hadn’t seen her since I used the washroom. “I saw her go outside a little while ago, probably went to smoke.” Replied Matt, and I smiled to myself knowing that Bree will love the fact that he has been secretly keeping tabs on her whereabouts. “Speaking of Bree,” Chris started, turning back to look at me, “Did she tell you about what happened two weeks ago?”

The group grew silent for a moment as they waited for me to respond. I took a sip from my water and nodded. “She sure did.” Chris smirked. “I’m surprised she even had to tell you. You must have been out cold if you slept through all that noise she was making.” The entire group groaned, clearly disturbed by Chris’ lack of filter. “Oh my god! Goodbye.” Nick threw his hands in the air before storming off to join Madi on the couch in the living room.

I scoffed, grabbing the bottle of vodka from Nate and taking a swig. “Bullshit.” I replied simply, wincing from the burn as the vodka travelled to my stomach. Chris raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?” Even in my drunken state I was very aware of the amount of eyes on me awaiting a response. “Well, I asked her to rate the sex on a scale from one to ten. She said six.” The group broke into laughter, and Chris’ jaw clenched as he smirked. “Hmm, funny.” He replied.

“You asked for the wrong number,” Said Nate through his laughter, “You should have asked her for the inches.” Chris grabbed the bottle of vodka from me before bringing it to his lips. “Oh I did,” I smiled, leaning towards Chris’ ear before continuing in a whisper so that only he could hear, “I believe her exact words were, ‘nothing special’.” Chris smirked, swiping his tongue across his front teeth. “Oh really? And you believe that?” He responded, and I nodded, crossing my arms across my chest. “I have no reason to not believe her.” We stood there for a moment, both of us just staring at the other tauntingly as the rest of the group just watched in silence, clearly feeling left out of the conversation all of a sudden. Finally, after letting his eyes travel down my body slowly again, Chris spoke.

“You wanna see for yourself?”

It took every fibre of my being to keep my jaw from physically dropping at his words. “Uh, what the fuck are we talking about here?” Nate said, his voice tentative. I kept my gaze on Chris, hoping that my eyes weren’t giving away how shocked I was. I watched him watch me; his bright blue eyes drilling into mine, his lips upturned in a confident smirk. Realizing I had been silent for too long, I blinked repeatedly and cleared my throat to regain my nonchalant composure before shrugging. “Sure.” I heard Matt groan beside me as I grabbed the vodka from Chris, taking a sip as I followed him towards the stairs to his bedroom. “I’m gonna be sick.” Matt’s distant voice shouted as Chris and I descended the stairs and walked into his dark bedroom.

Once Chris shut and locked his bedroom door, I felt a pit in my stomach begin to grow. I suddenly broke into a fit of laughter from the ridiculousness of this situation. “What are you laughing at kid?” Asked Chris, beginning to chuckle himself. I took a moment to catch my breath before responding. “You’re not actually gonna let me see your dick, are you?” I clutched my stomach as I tried to control my laughter, and he shrugged. “I will if you want to see it.” I bit my lip in contemplation, trying desperately to think properly through my drunk fog. Failing miserably, I nod my head.

Chris smirked. “Come here then.” I put the bottle of vodka down on his desk and walked over to where he was standing in the middle of his room. I stopped about a foot away from him, but he gently pulled me closer. Looking at my face, he finally pulled me up against him; rubbing an uncertain thumb against the small of my back. “Wait, I’m not hard right now.” He chuckled, seeming to have his own moment of consciousness. I smiled up at him and tilted my head, placing a hand on his stomach. “Well I need to see it in its full glory. How else am I gonna know if you’re telling the truth?” His thumb stopped its movement on my back, and a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes.

“Okay, then make me feel good baby.”

My stomach did a somersault at his words, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his before grabbing his bottom lip with my teeth and pulling slightly; watching as it snapped back into place. My right hand slowly traveled down his stomach towards his waistband, where I let it linger for a moment before moving down to his crotch. There, I had to keep myself from audibly gasping; as even through his pants, his fast growing bulge was in fact huge.

Chris smiled lazily as my hand continued to palm his clothed dick. “Impressed yet?” My eyes snapped to his, and I decided to maintain my unimpressed persona. I hummed, my lips touching his but not quite kissing them. “Is this all you got Chris?” I bit his lip once more just before it turned up in a smirk. “Not quite.”

I gasped in shock as Chris spun me around and slammed me against the door, attacking my lips with his own. His kiss was full of a sort of animalistic hunger, and I was consumed by the taste of peppermint and vodka. He pressed me even harder against the wall as he rolled his hips against me, and I fought the urge to whimper at the feeling of his restrained cock against my needy core. He brought both of his hands up and pulled my low-cut top down to free my tits before grabbing one in each hand. Detaching his lips from mine, he took a moment to look at my chest before attaching his mouth to my left nipple; swirling his tongue around its sensitive nerves before moving onto the right.

Pulling away from my tits and once again coming face-to-face with me, he spoke. “Get on your knees.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and began guiding me down to the ground. Now at the same height as his bulging member, I watched as he wasted no time in removing his jeans. Now only concealed by his thin boxers, the true size of his cock was much easier to see. I stared in silence for a moment, taking in the fact that his boxers just barely covered its entire length. “Now do you believe me?” He asked from above me. I struggled to find my words, but I didn’t want to end this crazy game that we were playing, so I shook my head. “I’ve seen bigger.” I replied, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Chris rolled his eyes before pulling his boxers down to his knees. Now fully exposed, his cock smacked my face as it sprung free from its restraint. I couldn’t help but stare at it in awe — it had to be at least eight inches — as the faint light in the room reflected on its beautiful veins. “Open your mouth.” Chris’ commanding voice pulled me from my trance, and I looked up at him in shock. “What?” He tilted his head, “You said you’ve seen bigger, so you should have no problem swallowing this cock. So open your mouth.” His dirty words went right to my heat, and I felt my panties begin to flood with arousal.

Chris used both hands to collect all of my hair and held it out of my face as I wrapped my lips around the first few inches of his cock. Starting slow, I swirled my tongue around his sensitive tip before bobbing my head; taking a bit more of his length with each pump. I released his cock from my mouth for a second to catch my breath, before quickly leaning back in and deep throating his entire length. I heard a hiss escape his lips as my nose brushed against the sprinkle of hair against his lower stomach, and I began moving my head up and down his entire length; making sure to get every inch of him in my mouth.

“F-fuck, Y/n, that’s good. Keep going.” Chris rasped, and he began thrusting his hips at the same pace I was moving at. I moaned around his cock as his grip on my hair tightened; halting my movements entirely as he began face fucking me. Tears welled in my eyes as his cock repeatedly slammed into my throat, and I watched his face as his jaw went slack in both concentration and arousal.

Suddenly, all his movements stopped and he pulled me up to my feet. With his lips on mine and his hands tightly grasping my ass, he walked me backwards towards his bed. Once my heels reached the edge of the bed, Chris reached under my skirt and slid my panties down my legs. Feeling myself lose all sense of control, I didn’t hesitate when he ordered me to lay on my stomach with my ass in the air. I began trying to remove my skirt, but was stopped short by a sharp slap to my ass. “No, leave it on. You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” My back arched subconsciously from his words, and I began to tremble in anticipation.

I felt the bed shift as Chris climbed on, and I shuddered from the heat of his breath against my core as he spoke. “You want to talk shit about how you don’t think I can make girls scream, then you better stay fucking silent.” He gave me barely any time to register his words before his mouth connected to my core. Working his tongue relentlessly against my clit, I buried my face in his duvet to keep from making any noise. Using both hands to massage my ass as he continued to devour my cunt, he very quickly proved to me that he did in fact know how to eat pussy.

His mouth moved from my clit to my opening, and I couldn’t stop the guttural moan from passing my lips as his tongue began to plunge into me. Immediately, he stopped his movements and slapped my ass hard. “What did I say?” He asked, his gravelly voice filled with a sinister edge. “S-sorry.” I replied, pushing my core back in an attempt at reconnecting with his talented mouth. “That’s my good girl.” He replied before finally re-attaching his mouth to my hole. I bit down on my lip — so hard that it began to bleed — in order to keep myself from making another noise as I felt an orgasm approach. Chris continued using his tongue to fuck me as my legs began to shake and my brain grew fuzzy.

Like a tidal wave, my orgasm overtook my body and I began to convulse uncontrollably. I was somehow able to stifle my sounds of pleasure, even when Chris moaned into my pussy as I felt myself squirt all over his face. Without even giving me a moment to recover, Chris straightened his body up onto his knees, grabbed onto my hips, and plunged every substantial inch of his cock into me. At this, I couldn’t help but scream out in shock, and Chris promptly pulled out of me; leaving my dripping core feeling empty. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Do you want me to stop?” He tapped my pussy with his cock as he waited for me to respond. Scared to say anything, I simply shook my head. “Are you ready to admit that Bree was lying?” I turned my head so that I could see him behind me.

“Size doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to use it. So go ahead and prove yourself right.” At my words, Chris shook his head as his lips turned up in a smirk. Immediately, his dick slid back into me slowly, and I felt my hole stretch more and more as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, before pulling his hips back so far that his tip was barely resting inside of me; and then slammed all of himself back into my cervix. He continued at this agonizingly slow and deep pace for a while, and used his words to taunt me the entire time.

“You’re such a good girl, taking all my cock like this.”

“I bet you feel so good right now baby.”

“Oh fuck, keep creaming all over this big dick.”

Suddenly, Chris pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back. Wasting no time, he hooked my legs around his neck and pushed his inches back into me. I stared at him, mouth open, as he watched my pussy swallow his cock with each quick thrust. Using one arm to support his weight, he placed his free hand on my stomach and pressed down. “You feel that?” He began, finding the spot where my stomach was bulging, “Feel how deep in your guts my cock can get?” My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I bit on my own arm to stifle the noises that were dying to escape it as I felt my second orgasm approaching.

Chris seemed to notice my impending climax, as he leaned forward to reach even deeper into me. “You want to cum, hmm?” He cooed, bringing a hand to my cheek. With my face contorted in the confusing combination of pleasure and frustration, I nodded my head. He moved my arm away from my mouth and planted a deep kiss there. “You can cum as hard as you want, just as soon as you tell me how good my cock makes you feel.” I whined silently, my overstimulated nerves causing my body to fill with a sudden desperation. “Come on, Y/n,” Chris brought his thumb down between our bodies and began rubbing my clit, “I want you to cum for me.”

I was panting now, feeling as though I might explode from the overwhelming pressure within my body. I was quickly realizing that I was losing this battle, and it was time to throw in the towel.

“Fuck Chris you’re so big.” I nearly screamed out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at keeping my composure. “Feels so good, please let me cum.” I begged, and watched his face as his pupils dilated from my words. “That’s my girl. Now let go.” His hips continued pounding into me as I finally gave into my orgasm, and I lost all control of my mind as I spewed a plethora of moan-filled profanities into the room. My walls contracted uncontrollably around his girth as my orgasm tore through my body, and I felt my nails dig into the skin on his shoulders.

“Oh fuck Y/n, gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” His words came out shaky, and I didn’t hesitate before responding, “In me, please baby.” I begged, wanting to feel his warm seed spill into my worn out core. “Shiiit.” He hissed, his body slowing to a near-halt as he rode out his own orgasm. With slow, lazy thrusts, he pushed his cum deep into me as his cock twitched repeatedly.

Eventually, his movements stopped completely, and he slowly pulled out of me and walked towards his bathroom. When he returned, he came back with a towel and used it to help clean me up in silence while I caught my breath.

“I might be drunk,” He started, “But that was hot as fuck.” I laughed, holding my spinning head before sitting up. “We are never to speak of this again.” I said as I got to my feet to retrieve my underwear. “Sure sure…until the next time we do it right?” I rolled my eyes at his response and nudged his shoulder playfully. “Shut up. I need a shot, let’s go.” I headed for the door once he was fully clothed and together we began to climb the stairs. “How likely is it that everyone up here knows what we did?” I whispered to him as we neared the top. “Oh very likely, but who cares? It’s my birthday, so no judgments allowed.” He winked at me as we made it to the kitchen, where everyone’s eyes immediately landed on us.

“Oh god.” I muttered under my breath as I hurried over to Bree, who was smiling knowingly at me as she began pouring out two shots of tequila. “Please tell me one of these are mine.” I whispered to her, and she laughed. “It sure is. You have a good time down there?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she handed me a slice of lime. “If you really meant it when you said his dick was ‘nothing special’, then I’m gonna need the names and numbers of the guys you were ranking him against.” She tilted her head back and exploded into laughter before lifting her shot glass in the air and urging me to do the same. “You got it, babe. Just as soon as I get Matt to fall in love with me.” I laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before raising my own glass. “Cheers!”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

➸ masterlist

“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

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