#I feel like it would be too rough with over the shoulder ones

[ashwhowrites]

Man I always have the best ideas for your requests and then the moment I see they’re open it’s like no thoughts only smooth brain.

Can I request where reader is friends with both Eddie and Steve, they become a little trio. Reader is attracted to both of them but keeps it secret because she doesn’t want to mess up the dynamic, doesn’t know how she’d pick when she loves them both. Eddie and Steve both really like her but their situation is complicated. They’ve been secretly together for a little bit but both agree they want reader. It’s just how do you spring that on someone and if they refuse not make everything weird? (Plus, people are really judgmental about same sex dating and alternative dating etc.) They both actively flirt with her, treat her right, they think they’ll actually reveal if she confesses to liking one of them. They all go out together as they normally do but there is a lot more teasing flirting from both boys to her. She says goodbye to them at the end of the night but is so keyed up from the flirting and what not she has to have an answer. She is intent on telling them that she likes them both and doesn’t know what to do. Except She catches them messing around? (Cause obviously they liked the flirting a lot too.) She’s super embarrassed and lowkey a little sad that they kept the relationship from her and that if they’re together they won’t want to be with her. But then Eddie and Steve confess and happy fluffy sexy ending.

Thank youuuuuu I love you mwah

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

⚠️little bit of smut

Flirting game

Y/N dreamed about the day she'd fall in love ever since she was young, how her heart would race from eye contact and plan a future by their side. She didn't expect how hard it would be to be in love with two different people.

Y/N, Steve, and Eddie had been close friends and didn't spend much time apart. It was easy for them to get along, and they barely had boundaries. Everything in their life was shared and secrets didn't exist. Well, that was a small lie.

Y/N was head over heels for Steve. She felt it was obvious since she could never keep her cool around him. She craved to run her hands through his hair, feeling how soft and silky it was. His sweet compliments paired with his smile made her stomach do flips. He was softer than Eddie, offering a comforting shoulder. He listened to all her feelings and made her feel accepted.

To make it more complicated, she was in love with Eddie too. His long hair and boyish charm never failed to make her heart race. His dirty jokes warmed her cheeks. His rough exterior always had her attention and she wanted his attention on her.

She felt tugged between the two. Steve pulled one arm and Eddie pulled the other, and she wasn't sure who she wanted to win. Her plan was to suffer in silence until one of them made a move, but one night got too hard to walk away from.

~

"Steve this place is amazing," Y/N said in awe as she walked around Steve's newly owned apartment. Eddie nodded as he sipped on his can of beer, walking behind her.

Steve smiled as he handed her a glass of wine. "Thank you, there's one place I want you to see." Y/N was intrigued, blushing to herself when Steve ran his fingers down her arm and moved to hold her hand. Eddie smirked as he stood behind, sharing a look with Steve.

Y/N let Steve lead her blindly, enjoying the feeling of his hand in hers. Steve walked her down the hall and stopped, a smirk on his face as he opened the door.

She looked in the room, expecting something exciting but all she saw was a bed and boxes. "What is it?" she asked, not understanding what he wanted to show her.

"It's my bedroom," Steve said, his hand still in hers. She looked at him confused, and then she felt Eddie's body pressed against her back. She held her breath as he moved his nose against her neck, her eyes locked on Steve.

"You know what happens in a bedroom right, baby girl?" Eddie whispered into her ear. She tried to cover the fact that her insides were burning as she stood between them. Steve moved closer until his body crashed against hers.

"Don't look so scared, love," Steve chuckled, pushing up her head as he placed a finger under her chin, "The bedroom is for sleeping." Eddie and Steve moved away at the same time, allowing air to move through her lungs. Their touch was gone and she felt cold air wash over her. She stood in shock and confusion as the boys walked down the hall. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what happened.

"Coming?" Eddie asked from down the hall. She turned around and nodded, quickly walking towards him.

They worked on putting away boxes for the next few hours. Steve's apartment slowly came together as more drinks were shared. Building up an appetite, Steve ordered pizzas declaring they'd take a break for food.

"Since I have no table, the floor it is!" Steve said cheerfully as he sat on the ground. Y/N held her third glass of wine as she took the spot across from him, and then Eddie joined after. Steve and Eddie's knees touched and Eddie's knee touched hers, all connected in a way.

They talked among themselves as they ate. Y/N listened closely as Steve talked, watching his lips form the words. She was so zoned in on him that she didn't realize she dripped sauce down her chin, but Eddie noticed.

When Steve finished his sentence, Eddie reached over gaining her attention when he swiped his thumb over her chin. She jolted in surprise, her eyes on Eddie as he cleaned up the sauce. She was stunned by the small intimate touch, staring in awe when Eddie slipped his sauced thumb into his mouth. He soaked in her stare, giving her a wink. She quickly looked away, gulping down the rest of her wine.

Eddie excused himself to the bathroom and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. With her body warm and brain in overdrive, she stood up to grab water from the kitchen.

Steve followed, walking quietly enough that she didn't know he was there. She opened the fridge and let the cold plastic soak into her skin. She took a few sips as she calmed herself down. She turned around and her back was pressed against the fridge. Steve looked down at her with a smile, loving the way her breathing picked up.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a bit warm," Steve said reaching his hand out and pressing it against her forehead.

"Um, yeah. I think I need some rest, though," she said, needing a break from the way these boys were throwing her around. Steve clicked his tongue, and his hand moved down to her neck. She held her breath as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. She couldn't help but look down at his lips, wanting to lean in. Steve's lips formed into a smirk, and he backed away, his touch no longer lingering on her skin.

"Do you need a ride?"

"No!" Y/N knew she wasn't going to survive a car ride with him. "I can drive."

She grabbed her keys and practically ran to the door, saying goodbye to Eddie as he approached.

"She's leaving?" Eddie asked, watching as the door closed.

"Yep. But I think our plan is working," Steve smiled walking over to Eddie.

"Then why won't she just admit something?" Eddie groaned. It's been months of the cat-and-mouse game, and he wanted it to end.

Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's slim waist, bringing the boy against his chest. "She will, I know she will." Eddie rolled his eyes as he lost patience.

"In the meantime, we can enjoy what the little show does to us," Steve flirted, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie smirked as Steve's hand slid down his body, landing on the button of his jeans.

"Yeah? Turns you on working her up like that?" Eddie teased. Steve unbuttoned his jeans, sliding his hand inside. Eddie shivered as Steve teased him over his boxers, the touch setting him on fire.

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, moving his hand inside Eddie's boxers to wrap around his cock. Eddie moaned into his mouth, diving his hands into Steve's hair. Eddie slid his tongue into Steve's mouth, their tongues massaging against each other. Steve moved his hand up and down on Eddie's cock, twisting near his tip forcing his pre cum to drip out. Steve smeared the pre cum along Eddie's length, using it to help jerk him off.

~

Y/N was halfway home when she turned around. The heat between her legs reminded her how badly she wanted them. Even though she was scared as hell to tell them the truth, she made her way back to Steve's.

Her head was all over the place and she had no idea what she would say but kept moving forward. She dug out the spare key Steve gave her and let herself in. The house seemed empty but she knew they were there somewhere.

She walked down the hall towards the bedroom, freezing when she heard the sound of moans. She gulped as she went to step back, not wanting to intrude on Steve's private time. But a part of her wanted to see, she wanted to see Steve moaning out curious of what was making him feel so good. She stepped forward, peeking her head in the open doorframe.

Eddie and Steve were naked and tangled in Steve's sheets. Their naked chests pressed against each other as Steve pushed himself in and out of Eddie. Their moans meet each other in the air between them. Y/N stood in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She never thought anything was going on between them, hell she didn't even know they were gay. She felt hurt that they kept this from her and that her feelings didn't matter anymore.

She turned to sneak out but her step caused a loud creek to echo throughout the hallway. The boys froze and looked towards the door, catching Y/N's stunned expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Then she booked it, running down the hall. Steve and Eddie called out to her, quickly scrambling out of bed and throwing on their underwear as they ran after her.

By the time they reached her, she was staring at the door, trying to decide whether she wanted to leave.

"Y/N..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself in," she apologized. She turned around and took them in. Their sex hair, Eddie's marked chest, and Steve's bruised lips.

"It's okay," Steve coughed, "can we talk about what you saw?"

Y/N nodded and hugged herself. "Are you guys...together?"

"Yeah, for almost four months now," Eddie answered.

"Four months?" She screeched, she dropped her arms in shock. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Did you think I wouldn't accept you?" She accused.

"NO!" Steve rushed, "It's just we are so used to hiding so we hide from everyone."

"So was all the flirting to throw me off? Make sure I believe you're straight? Because that's fucking shitty! You played with my feelings!" Y/N cried, getting so frustrated that tears began to fly down her cheeks.

"No, baby. It is nothing like that," Eddie said softly. He slowly walked up to her, and she allowed him to touch her arm. "We weren't playing with your feelings or using you. We meant the flirting, we were hoping if we made advances towards you that you would tell us how you felt about us."

"How I feel about yo-ouu...b-both?" she stuttered. Did they already know? She looked between the two with fear in her eyes.

"We are both interested in you. We both have strong feelings for you." Steve confessed. Y/N was stunned by their confession. All the time she hoped they'd look her way, and they truly were.

"What do you feel about us?" Eddie asked, leaning closer to the shaky girl. He smiled as he cupped her cheek, landing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Just tell us," he whispered, his lips leading down to her neck.

She gasped in pleasure, and her eyes met Steve over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie continued to kiss her neck as Steve stared into her eyes.

"I want to be with both of you," she moaned out, Eddie's teeth sinking into her neck. Steve smiled at the confession and walked towards them. He walked around her, his naked chest to her back as he pressed his lips to the open side of her neck.

Y/N shivered as both of their lips pressed against her skin, her eyes closing as their hands began to work up and down her body.

"Let us show you how much we want you," Eddie whispered.

"Please," she moaned.

"Our pleasure, baby girl," Steve whispered against her skin.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[honeyedclementine]

you're so lonely, i can fix that

pitfighter!vi x f!reader, smut, stone top!vi mentions of caitvi, act 1-2 spoilers usage of 'good girl' ( one shot, 1.1k words) ageless blogs, minors, and men dni

reply to be added to my tag list ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

vi had almost certainly been your favorite addition to the roster of fighters in this dim arena sat in the lowest pits of the undercity. you were a regular viewer of the fights, you had seen plenty of people come and go. you watched the strongest fighters get cleaned off the floor in bloody heaps. but none of them came even close to her.

you were more than just a viewer, of course, you had your connections that brought you a bit closer to the fighters than most. not that you needed those connections to get close to vi. a few weeks into her stint in the pits, you ran into her at the club, watching her drink herself to death. you wondered how someone like her would end up down here, so down in the dumps. you didn't let her reach the end of the bottle before you offered your... comfort.

there was nothing to it, of course, just blowing off steam after fights and what not, but by gods was it some of the best sex you'd ever had in your life. you thought it was only going to happen that one time, of course, but then she caught your eye after a fight, blood dripping from her nose, and next thing you knew you were back at her apartment again.

now, you linger in the doorway, arms crossed as you watch her submerge her bloodied knuckles in ice water, wraps still on. you both know why you're here, but you find yourself making conversation anyway.

"what do you fight for?" you ask, your voice a low drawl. you wait there in the doorway, waiting for her permission. you watch her back heave as she catches her breath, the dark ink of her tattoo disappearing behind the binding around her chest. you ache to see all of it, to dig your fingernails into the ink.

"to forget," vi says with a huff, turning to face you over her shoulder. "you should know everyone this far down is running from something."

she nods slightly and you step into the room, letting the door slam shut behind you with a resounding thud. "or someone?"

vi turns back around. you approach slowly as if creeping towards a caged animal, hand extended before landing softly on her shoulder. you kneel down behind her, pressing your lips to her shoulder and then her neck, whispering, "you're so lonely, i can fix that."

this is all it takes for her to turn to you, a firm hand splaying across your neck and collarbone, her lips, teeth, and tongue attacking the flesh of your neck. the two of you don't kiss—you honestly prefer it this way. you'd rather be a warm body to her than have her pretending you're someone else.

you kneel on the floor, pressed up against the bench she had been sitting on—the old wood digging into your back as she kisses down your neck and chest, nearing the neckline of your low-cut top.

"fuck, vi," you whimper as her teeth sink into the crook of your neck, a sharp hiss of pain falling from your lips. your hands tangle in the nape of that black hair—every time you do this, your fingers come away smeared with whatever paint or grease she uses for this, but you never mind bearing the mark of her.

the two of you never get very undressed as she goes for your belt, shoving you further down against the hard floor with a hand behind your head to make sure you don't make too harsh of a contact. your nails dig harshly into her back, leaving faint red scratches all along the black ink. she moans against your neck at the pain, her hand dipping into your pants and immediately going for the slick wetness between your legs.

you let out a terse moan as she explores your folds, feeling the roughness of her calloused fingers against you. she only teases your clit for a moment before two fingers dip into your entrance, pushing into you with little warning. your teeth sink into your lip so hard you taste blood, hips arching to her touch as you run your hands along her tattooed back and biceps, feeling the muscles flex as she fucks into you with little mercy.

you never mind the roughness of her, in fact, it only turns you on more. your hands claw at her and she moans at the pain, a noise that coils low in the pit of your stomach as her fingers pump in and out, spreading outside of you as her blunt nails scrape at your inner walls, hitting every spot that drives you absolutely crazy. she sits between your legs, one thigh pressing up against your aching center as she fucks you, only creating more pressure.

"gods," you moan, the word sounding wrecked and broken as it falls from your lips.

"good, good girl," she moans against your neck, adding a third finger on her next inward press. "you take me so well."

the words go straight to your cunt, a wretched moan tearing itself from your throat as you relish in the pleasant burn of the stretch. you already know you're not going to last long, not with her fucking you like this. you can feel her rage, her guilt, her shame. you take it all, content to keep her warm while she waits for someone else.

she hovers above you, dangerously close to your lips as she watches you come beneath her fingers, your orgasm ricocheting around your body like a stray bullet. you clench around her fingers, desperate for her to keep fucking you even as you spill over her palm and down her wrist.

when she pulls out of you, vi brings her fingers to her lips, her tongue starting at her wrist and following the dripping lines of your slick before she takes her own bloodied and split fingers into her mouth, licking them clean. you bite your lip at the sight, head falling back against the concrete floor. absentmindedly, your hands come to your belt, tugging everything back into place. she doesn't ask you to touch her and you don't offer—you learned fairly early on that she won't let you.

"fuck," you breathe out, catching your breath as she stands. you push yourself back up onto your elbows, looking up to see vi offering you a hand. you take it and let her help you up, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet. "whoever broke your heart made a serious—"

"don't," vi shakes her head, sounding defeated. she sits back down on the bench, but you remain standing, just staring down at her. she looks up at you softly and you can see the sadness that resides in those eyes. "see you after tomorrow's fight?"

you offer a half-hearted smile, taking the invitation for what it is. "always."

tag list: @puppyels @njm63522 @fict1onallyobsessed

[r0-boat]

Feral!Lighter brain rot

I'm very normal about his EP

Cw: Dubcon, consent non-con, rough sex, No beta we die like men

Thank you for coming to my TED talk...*explodes*

Even the undefeated champion can get overwhelmed whether it be from stress or simply becoming drunk off adrenaline from a fight.

All he wants to do is maul the next thing he sees, like a feral animal.

That's what pretty little things like you are for. He tells you over and over that he'd never hurt you in a soft voice that makes your heart swoon. But you know full well that he can.

He knows precisely what you want, You're not exactly the most subtle with your desires.

That thought had been driving you crazy. The What if Lighter: Your sweet, protective boyfriend wasn't so sweet with you? To see you as a toy to play with than someone that he cherishes more than anything else in the world.

Why not give you an experience to remember?

This is what you want. To have him come in just when you're about to go to bed. You're lying on the couch when your door knob clicks and turns. You know exactly who it is... There was only one other person you gave your spare key to.

It's not that you didn't want to see him. It's just that you weren't expecting him; usually, he would shoot you a maximum of three-word text when he came to crash or visit.

But this time, he practically barges in, slamming the door behind him. The look in his eye shivers down your spine as an imposing figure stocking closer toward you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, especially when he left his jacket and shirt, dropped on the floor forgotten. He took his red scarf and wrapped it around his left hand.

"On. Your. Knees."

That wasn't a request.

You looked at him, eyes wide., Whatever was showing on your television was long forgotten. Your legs shook everything, urging you to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted. But something within you stirred inside, whether it be curiosity or blind courage. It made your lips move.

"Make me."

Lighter's green eyes flicker at your blatant challenge. His eyebrows raise slightly. The silence is deafening as his lips curve into a smile. His left hand grips the red fabric as the other takes off his shades, tossing them.

He comes after you in a flash, His hand roughly grabbing at your color, yanking you until he hoists you over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your back as he brings you to your bedroom, tossing you on the bed with little care of where you end up before crawling on top of you, licking his lips. He could practically smell your arousal.

And he was just as aroused as you were. Scratch that He's more aroused than you are. He feels so bad for handling you similarly to how he handles riffraff. But he can't deny how hard his cock was pressing against his jeans.

He lets out a snarl His arms flexing as he tears his pants in two. Before doing the same to your shirt and pants.

"Hey! I just got those!" You yell, hitting his rock-hard chest. It's kind of cute how you think you can hurt him.

"too bad doll, should've listened to me the first time."

There was no ounce of gentleness to how the man handles you to flip over, grabbing your wrists, and tying you with the scarf.

Coating his fingers in his saliva before plunging it inside you. His hand and thick fingers force you open. His callused palm and rough scarred fingers groping your ass spreading you whiter as wide as he could to force his fingers deeper stretching you out for the hardness you can feel grinding against the crack of your ass.

Fuck... Your muffled screams sound so good. He wanted to be at least gentle when he fucks you, but It looked like his body had other plans. Taking you like this was so thrilling. His eyes rolled back as he lost himself in his own lust, ravaging your body till there was nothing left.

"Gonna fuck you... Going to fill you up and teach that naughty little mouth not to talk back!" Lighter growls in your ear taking out his fingers before plunge again in your mouth You're empty hole soon filled with something bigger screaming against his mouth and fingers as he immediately sets his pace.

You're tasting yourself on your tongue. The thought alone was setting Lighter a blaze.

Why do you make him like this? He could feel every ounce of self-control crack and crumble.

He was making so much noise from the bed rattling and his own moans your neighbors could probably hear but to be honest he doesn't give a fuck. All he cares about is fucking all the stress he has built up from god knows how long.

From how tightly you were gripping his poor cock, to your shaking, quivering body and you're sobbing, muffled mess with your tears soaking his thumb and palm, you were close. Lighter was, too. Lighter was so close. And all he wanted to do was fill you up fill your insides tell you were leaking.

You felt him sink his teeth into your shoulder before the both of you exploded at the same time. Lighter can feel you milking him as he came harder than he ever did in his life.

For the first time since he first started training, his body felt sore as he practically collapsed on top of you before quickly rolling off so he doesn't crush you.

When he finally catches his breath, He rolls over to your side, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest, kissing your face.

"hey hey hey...shhh It's okay... It's okay we're done... I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

He'd never forgive himself if he did. But he got his answer when your arms wrapped back around him and he saw your beaming smile. He sighs in relief smiling back kissing your lips.

"I guess It's safe to say that you liked it.... Good... I did too."

[hongjoongtime117]

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Reader

Genre: SMUT (MDNI 18+)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Temperature play, fingering, oral sex (M/F receiving), HANDS, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, pet names, per usual let me know if I forgot anything important!

Author’s Note: This was written for @woolysium who also made the AMAZING banner for this fic! Thank you, love! And I’m so glad you enjoyed this one! Thanks for the inspiration! ❤️

As you lay bare on your stomach in the middle of Wooyoung’s bed, your skin prickles with excitement. He had told you earlier that he had something special in store for you tonight. The bed dips on either side of your hips as Wooyoung straddles them, the thin material of his tight black boxers leaving very little between the two of you.

 “Gonna take such good care of you, baby,” he whispers into your ear as he’s pressed firmly against your back. He runs his soft, veiny hands up your arms to entangle his with yours. You admire the shiny, cold, chrome rings, and his Chrome Hearts inspired manicure. He knows you love his hands, and he does his best to keep them nice and pretty for you.

He untangles your hands and retrieves a bottle from the nightstand. You hear the cap to the bottle click, and he can feel you tense just the slightest bit underneath him.

“Relax, baby. I’ve got you,” he purrs. 

You feel the cool liquid hit your back, and he begins massaging it along your body, experienced hands causing you to relax under him. The more he massages, the warmer the liquid becomes and you realize it’s a warming massage oil. You exhale a light sigh at the sensation. “Mm, feels good Woo.”

“Told you I would take care of you, pretty girl.” He scoots further down your legs, grabbing handfuls of your ass before he begins massaging it as well. He dips a hand between your thighs, brushing against your heat. Your breath hitches and you can tell by his tone, he’s got that cocky smirk on his face. 

“The thought of my hands on you has you dripping already, baby?” 

“It’s not my fault you have such veiny, gorgeous hands, Woo,” you retort. 

“Mm, I know a good place for them, too. Right inside your tight little hole.” 

You sharply inhale at the bluntness of his words. “You’re such a tease, Wooyoung!” 

“Oh, but you love it, don’t you, baby?” He lands a rough smack to your ass before he climbs off of you and makes his way to settle against the headboard. “Come here, pretty girl. Let me make you feel good.” 

You crawl across the bed to him, and he pulls your back to his broad, strong chest. He eases your legs over his and he spreads your legs apart with his own, giving him full access to your glistening folds. He thumbs your perk, puffy nipples, the excess warming oil sending shivers up your spine. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls lowly in your ear.

He taps your lips with his freshly done nails. “Open, baby.” You comply and Wooyoung sticks two ringed fingers in your waiting mouth, playing with the saliva that has gathered there. 

“I know how much you love these hands. Be a good girl and suck them like you suck my cock, hmm?” 

You close your plump lips around his fingers, and let your tongue explore every inch of them. The engravings and the chill of his rings, and the embellishments on his nails give your tongue plenty to do, and you moan around his fingers, savoring the weight of them in your mouth.

While you busy yourself with his fingers, he uncaps the bottle, skillfully with one hand, and collects just a bit of the warming oil, rubbing it between the fingers on his unoccupied hand. 

“I’d ask if you’re ready, but how wet you already are tells me enough. You’re glistening, baby,” his voice low and seductive in the shell of your ear, as his eyes drop over your shoulder to your leaking arousal. He snakes a hand down your body, unhurried but needy, until he reaches your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“Watch as my fingers make you cum, pretty girl.” He uses the hand in your mouth to gently maneuver your head down to look where his experienced hands are working your clit. The sight has you whimpering around his fingers, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. 

“That’s a good girl. So good for me.” The prominent veins in his arm bulges at his ministrations, and you can’t help but to run your fingers over them. You meet his hand at your aching bud, loving the feel of it underneath yours. He knows exactly what to do to have you coming undone, and embassingly quickly. The warming oil is only enhancing the sensations you feel. His fingers are fast and practiced, drawing tight circles against your clit, that has your eyes fluttering shut and the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. 

Your breaths pick up, fanning across the skin of the hand filling your mouth. He knows your body like the back of his hand (haha) and can tell you’re seconds from your release, your whimpers and whines giving him those telltale signs. He works his fingers even faster under yours, and right before your impending climax, he withdraws his fingers from your watering mouth and grasps your throat firmly. 

“Cum for me, pretty baby.” The knot finally snaps as your orgasm rips through you. Your lips part in a silent scream and your head falls back to rest on his shoulder, breaths ragged and shallow. 

He raises his fingers to his lips, tongue darting out to taste your sweet slick. The lewd sounds of him lapping at his fingers has your hole clenching around emptiness. 

“Fuck, you taste so delicious, baby. But I need it straight from the source,” his voice dripping with lust. He slides out from behind you, laying you down and hovers over top of you. He trails hot, wet kisses down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You try to reach for his painfully hard cock, but he stops you short.

“Woo, please?” you pout at him with big shining eyes. 

“Maybe later, baby. Right now, just let me worship you.” Not bothering to wait for a response, he places gentle kisses to the spot where your thighs meet your pussy, drawing a breathy moan from your spit swollen lips. His fingers slip between your folds, and you buck your hips, chasing any kind of friction. 

“You just came and still want more? Such a needy girl,” his whispers to your pussy, velvety voice and warm breath making you shiver in anticipation, and you lean back on your arms to watch him between your legs.  

“I’m more than happy to give you what you need.” His blown out pupils meet with yours as his tongue licks from your leaking hole, to your throbbing clit. Your hands find purchase in his silky, raven hair, the slight burn of his scalp making him moan, sending vibrations straight to your core. 

“Need more, Woo… please,” you beg, legs trembling and voice weak with desperation. 

He growls in agreement, filling your hole with two lithe fingers. The icy feel of his rings contrasting with the blazing heat of your walls around them leaves throaty whines spilling from your lips. His eager lips suction around your clit, while his fingers simultaneously hook right into your sweet spot, the coil in your core winding tightly once again. 

“Fuuuuck, Woo, just like that,” you babble, eyes rolling back, dizzy from pleasure. You grind your cunt impatiently into his wet face. 

Fingers pumping in and out at a quickening pace, being sure to drag across your pleasure point at every chance, his voice is low and commanding, rumbling against your core. “That’s it pretty, ride my face.” 

He can feel your body tensing, preparing for another soul shattering orgasm, as he plunges his fingers deeper still, the markings on his rings dragging across your walls making you clench tighter. A symphony of incoherent pleasure falls from your lips, and it only spurs Wooyoung on even more, his groans of satisfaction radiating through you. 

“Yes, baby. Let me hear your sweet little noises. Let me know I’m doing my job well. Come on, good girl. Cum for me. Soak me,” his voice husky with need. A few more pumps of his fingers and a soft nibble to your clit has you seeing stars as you squirt and soak him, yourself, and the sheets below. 

“Mmm, you listen so well, baby.” He looks up at you with hooded eyes, panting, as you both try and catch your breath, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. 

He crawls up your body, littering kisses on his way up to meet your lips. He gives a sharp bite to your lower lip before coaxing your mouth open to let his tongue in, allowing you to taste yourself on him. 

“I still have one last thing in store. Think you can give me one more, pretty girl?” he says softly as he parts from the intimate kiss. 

You give a slow, hesitant nod. “But what about you, Woo? You’re so hard. Please let me help. I’ll make you feel so good.” You place your hand on the unmistakable bulge in his boxers, the fabric wet with precum, and he drops his head to your shoulder with a pitched whine. When he recovers enough from your touch, he lifts his head and traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and you instinctively take it into your mouth.

“Mmm, I’m definitely gonna have those pretty lips wrapped around something other than my fingers. What I’ve got planned is gonna make us both feel good. Sound good?” You give a sound that is equivalent to a ‘yes’. “Good, I’ll be right back, baby. Be good for me.”

He returns only a few moments later, a metal ice bucket in hand, and something else inside the bucket that looks similarly shaped to Wooyoung’s cock, the stainless steel glimmering in the low light of the room. Your eyebrow raises in curiosity. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” Wooyoung checks in as he sets the bucket onto the nightstand, within easy reach. 

“Yes, of course, Woo,” your voice small from excitement.

“Then come here.” He takes an ice cube from the bucket and places it into his mouth. He settles back on to the bed and you saunter over to him. With you both on your knees, centimeters away, he grips your chin in his hand and brings you in for a searing kiss. You sloppily pass the ice cube back and forth with your mouths until it has melted and has begun dripping down both of your chests. 

He reluctantly releases from the kiss and grabs another icy cube, popping it into your mouth.

“I want you to melt this around my cock, while you sit on my face. Think you can do that, baby?” Your enthusiastic nod makes him giggle. “Let’s get to it, hmm? Take your throne, pretty girl.” He quickly shucks off his boxers and tosses them carelessly onto the floor.

You hesitantly hover over his face, facing away from him to get to his leaking, flushed cock. Unknown to you, he’s also placed an ice cube into his own mouth. Before you can sink your mouth around him, a harsh pull elicits a gasp from you. Wooyoung moves the ice around in his mouth to speak properly, right into your folds. “Seems you didn’t bring your listening ears for this part, baby. I said sit.” 

Without further warning, he brings you full force onto his hungry mouth, using his tongue to press the frozen cube straight to your clit, as he wraps his lips around it, suckling with intent. You choke out a sob at the cold relief on your swollen nub. You take his heated length into your own mouth, and you can feel Wooyoung’s dick twitch with the mixture of the warmth of your mouth and the cold of the ice, his cock finally getting the attention it has craved. His groan vibrating your clit has you letting out one of your own around his cock. 

You swirl the ice around his throbbing cock, making sure to pay special attention to the protruding vein along the side that drives him wild. He unintentionally bucks his hips up, causing you to gurgle around him and tears to form at the corner of your eyes. His grip on your thighs tightens, sure to leave bruises behind. You can feel his breaths, heavy and short.

Without unlatching from your clit, he reaches for the metal object that has been sitting in the ice bucket. He teases your entrance with the cool steel, silently seeking permission. A firm massage to his balls was all the go ahead he needed to push the chilled metal into your tight, clenching hole. The change in temperature has you grinding desperately, meeting the thrusts of the dildo, and the laps of his tongue. You double your efforts on his cock, swallowing around him, determined to get him to cum down your throat before you’re overthrown by another climax. 

The ice has melted for the both of you, but it has still left a frosty feel. You suck on Wooyoung’s tip and give his balls a squeeze. He detaches from your clit with a wet pop, a strangled cry coming from deep in his chest as his back arches and his hot seed warms your mouth and throat from the leftover chill of ice. 

“Fucking Christ, Y/N!” chest heaving, and breathing rugged, but never stopping his assault on your cunt with the cold metal. You let his dick leave your mouth, as you claw at his thighs, your third orgasm not far away. 

“Pretty, give me one more. You’re such a good girl, taking everything I give you,” he praises and coaxes you towards your release. Tears stream down your cheeks as he fucks you faster, the icy metal hitting your g spot with every thrust. Your body trembles as you choke on your sobs, and your release comes barreling forward. A final well placed thrust, and a claiming bite to your inner thigh has your vision going white, body tensing, as you cum hard around the now lukewarm object in your cunt. 

He kisses you gently as you come down from your high, telling you how good you were for him. On unsteady knees, you hop off of him to face him properly. You take his hands and trace your fingers over every visible vein.

“Mmm, you really enjoy my hands so much. I’m starting to wonder if my dick is useless.” he teases. You bury your face into his neck and bite down hard. 

“Shut up, Jung Wooyoung, or I’ll make sure it never gets attention from me again!” you gripe at him. 

He cackles at your response before he cradles you to his chest. “I’m only teasing, baby. You did so good. Did you enjoy yourself? I sure as hell did.”

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t have enjoyed it?” 

He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. “I’m glad you’re satisfied with my services.” 

“You’re such an ass, Woo,” a snort laced laugh escaping. 

“Mmm, yep. But I’m your ass!” 

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 2. the escalation

read part 1. here

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.2 summary:

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap, zero communication, angst

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

Sex with Chris became frequent after that night at the party.

It was a rush, like being swept up in a storm, each moment together like a collision between two giant forces. Rough, loud, painful, and so, so satisfying.

You were currently on your knees, face pressed against the coarse carpet that covered the floor of your bedroom and your ass high in the air, being pounded by the guy who had taken up significant space in your life over the years.

Thank the lucky stars you were home alone tonight, because there would have been no doubt about what was happening in your room.

“Fuck, fuck-” Chris groans, and you feel the way he grips your ass and spreads you apart, likely to watch his own dick moving in and out of your stretched-out pussy. “You’re always so fucking tight-” he says, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.

All you can do is moan loudly against the carpet, your mouth agape as you squeeze around his unrelenting thrusts. You can’t even tell how long it goes, only that he makes you cum, over and over, until he eventually chases his own release.

The clean-up that followed the sex was always quick but efficient, always done in silence. And once Chris was done with that, he always left with a quick kiss and pat to the cheek.

Sex with Chris hurt in the best way possible, and left you craving for more. And he never kept you waiting for long. You don’t think too hard about all the other places he must be getting sex, all you focus on is the fact that he always comes to you eventually, even if you don’t call for him.

-------------------------------------

“Chris-” you whine against his mouth as he thrusts up into you, the head of his dick ramming into that spongy bundle of nerves inside you that whites out your vision and has you gasping for air. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his t-shirt, stretching it as you pull, pull, pull, while he pushes, pushes, pushes into you, his lips sliding over your cheek, barely audible groans escaping him as he holds you back against the counter in this random bathroom at this random house party.

The noise outside the bathroom is loud enough to drown out the sounds of Chris fucking you, devouring you, and your head thrums from the bass, the sensation in your body reduced to just that spot inside you, your lower back, where the edge of the counter digs into your skin, likely leaving bruises, and your hips, where Chris’ hands grab and knead at the flesh as he drags you down onto his cock while thrusting up into you, over and over and over.

If anyone noticed how you limped for the rest of the night, no one pointed it out.

-------------------------------------

Another party, another chase. You’d spent a good hour and a half keeping Chris on his toes as you trailed from room to room, flirting with other guys and getting increasingly tipsy. At least, that’s what you’d thought, until you spotted him leaning over some girl, trailing his fingers up her thigh.

You’d decided to just grab the guy closest to you, quickly ask for his name before demanding that you kiss him, and he does, does it with fervor as he runs his hands all over you, trailing them up over the back of your thighs before kneading your ass cheeks over your jeans, pulling you close. Through the corner of your eye, you see Chris, now kissing the girl he had been talking to, except his eyes are locked onto yours.

You watch the corner of his lips lift slightly, and you feel like you keep losing this game you created in your head.

Ten minutes later, Chris has you on your knees on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles digging into your skin as he shoves his dick into your willing, open mouth. He uses you, makes you choke and gag on it, tears streaming down your face and spit trailing down your chin as he thrusts it in and out of you.

Another ten minutes, before he comes down your throat and shoves you off his cock, leaving you gasping for air.

He doesn’t say a word as he extends his leg forward, pressing the toe of his shoe against your clothed cunt, rubbing it against your jeans.

You know what he wants. So you give it to him.

You rut against his shoe, clawing at his leg as you sob and beg for more.

“What was that?” he asks with a mocking tone. “You want to get fucked?”

You nod furiously, forehead pressed against his thigh.

“Go ask that guy you were all over earlier.”

That was the first night you’d kissed a guy that wasn’t Chris, and in front of him too. It was also the first night he’d left you without making you cum.

-------------------------------------

Chris had one hand clamped tightly over your mouth, while the other was trapped between you, furiously stroking over his dick while he rutted against your stomach.

You’d barely had the time to process it at the time, but Chris had climbed into your room through the open window and proceeded to pin you down on your bed and kiss you fiercely.

That was a few hours ago. Since then he had fucked you twice, once on your back, before he’d flipped you over and fucked you on your knees, your face pushed into your duvet and his hand still clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t get too loud.

“You’re so good, you always take it so well.”

“Such a good girl for me, you like that don’t you?”

“You’re mine, yeah? Tell me. Only mine.”

“One more, you can take one more right?”

And you did take more, over and over and over again. Because it felt good. Only because it felt so good, despite the growing pang in your chest that became stronger every time Chris left.

-------------------------------------

Chris was…an enigma.

Despite the casual nature of your ‘relationship’, Chris tended to say and do things that confused you. And perhaps that was what got so many girls hooked onto him. The way he treated you like you were all his, all that he wanted, even though his womanizing nature was well-known.

At first, it seemed like a calculated move on his part, like he knew exactly what he was implying with his words and actions, a vague promise for more, even when both he and his girls knew there was no chance of it happening.

The more time you spent with him however, the more clear it became that Chris seemed almost sincere most of the time. Or maybe that was the delusional part of you, hoping he might be?

Is this what all the other girls he’s with go through? A constant spiral of wondering what was real and wasn’t, with their relationship with Chris?

A soft snore pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality, where Chris, the man who usually doesn’t stay long once he’s done the deed, was now sleeping under your covers, one arm slung across your middle, while you leaned against your pillows.

It was surreal, seeing him like this, looking the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You’d expected him to help clean you up and leave as soon as he’d fucked you, but instead, he’d stayed, waited for you to take a quick shower, before he too snuck into your bathroom to clean up and eventually crawled back under your covers.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stayed, but you still find yourself asking-

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, I’m tired, let’s sleep for a bit,” he mumbles, eyes already closed, one arm hanging off the edge of your bed, while the other pulls you close.

“Isn’t this like, against your rule or something?” you ask, trying to fight back the urge to cuddle up against him and run your fingers through his hair. It looked so soft, fanning against your pillow, the moonlight creating a slight halo around him.

He looked beautiful.

“Do you do this with your other girls?” Another question you’d asked before, the first time he’d slept over.

All he does is hum dismissively in response, just like last time.

You settle down under the covers, relishing in the warmth of Chris’ body, exhaustion from your earlier activities settling into your bones as the fresh scent of your own body wash wafting off of both of your skins sends you off into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later, just before sunrise, you’re startled awake by the sound of a branch hitting your window. It was still dark, but there was the noticeable lack of a body next to you, and the warmth that was quickly fading.

That was the one of the rare nights when Chris had stayed the night. And just like always, he left without a trace, the only reminder of his presence being the soreness between your legs and used condoms and tissues in the waste basket under your desk.

-------------------------------------

You knew this was getting out of hand.

Things were only escalating with Chris. What had started out as an experiment of sorts, a game, one that barely had rules to begin with, was starting to feel like a trap. The way he was attentive and disinterested in equal measure, the way he was so attuned to your pleasure and somehow still came across as a selfish jerk who only cared for his own, the way he always, always made it hurt in just the right way…it was almost degrading how exhilarated it made you feel.

You hadn’t accounted for how addictive Chris would become.

Speaking of addiction, you were currently experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

You pull out your phone and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged with Chris.

> Can i come over?

> uh..is everything okay?

> Yeah.

> Why?

> u usually just.. show up lol, why’re u asking this time?

> Heard you were prepping for college apps

> yeah

> Busy?

> kinda? u can still come over if u want..

> it’s been a while

> Have you been counting the days since we last fucked? Lol

> shut up ohmygod

> r u coming over or not?

> Yeah, gimme a few.

> okay

That had been a week ago. Chris had never showed up.

You had tried your best to ignore how hurt you’d felt. You’d instead just focused on your applications, working on your essays and filling out endless forms. You’d even gone out with your friends to take your mind off of everything, attempted to hook up with another older guy at a bar, but he’d turned out to be much older, and married at that, which had put you in an even more sour mood than before. You’d promptly decided to go back home then.

Your shitty mood must have been really obvious, because your brother, who was back home for break from college, showed up at your bedroom door, leaning against the frame as he watched you do your nightly skincare routine. He’d seen the way you’d walked up to your room, scowl so deep with a faraway look in your eyes.

“Did something happen at the bar?” he asked, stepping into your room and closing the door to make sure your parents wouldn’t overhear your conversation.

You pause, watching him through your vanity mirror as he flops onto your bed, displacing your carefully placed pillows and plushies, sending one of them tumbling to the ground.

A deep inhale.

“No, nothing happened,” you say with a deep sigh. “Well, there was this one guy-”

“Fucking hell, what’d he do?” your brother interrupts.

“Relax, nothing happened. He was flirting with me, but turns out he was married. Made me feel icky so I left right after.”

“Oh, okay. What a loser.”

“I know, right?”

You and your brother enjoy the special kind of comfortable silence that only being in each other’s company provided.

“You’ve been kind of off lately,” he finally says. “You wanna, um… you wanna talk about it?”

So much for comfortable silence.

After a few long seconds, you reply. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re kind of a shit liar, kid.”

You ignore him, focusing instead on smoothing some oil into your hair before braiding it. Behind you, your brother sighs, shifting on your bed. Incrementally, his sighs get louder, and he rolls back and forth on your bed, rustling up the covers and making an even bigger mess than before.

“Stop that, will you?” you snap at him, glowering at him through your mirror.

“I’m bored.”

“Go be bored anywhere else.”

“Not leaving until you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“Get out.”

“Nuhuh.”

“You’re so annoying, oh my fucking god- stop messing up my bed!” you yell, chucking your hairbrush at him. You let out a satisfied chuckle when you hear a yelp.

Silence.

“Want to go on a drive? Like we used to?”

You turn to face your brother who is now sitting up on your bed, legs crossed as he picks at one of our plushies. When your don’t answer right away, he looks up at you, giving you a conspiratorial grin.

“Let’s sneak out and get food,” he whispers, eyes wide and eyebrows raised with a wolfish smile.

It makes you laugh, the idea of sneaking out as a fully grown adult with your older adult brother, and you won’t know until much later, but your brother had let out a sigh of relief at seeing you relax a bit.

Abandoning your plans to head to bed, you and your brother quietly make your way downstairs, grab your jackets and head out in his car, and everything felt simple again. The two of you used to do this a lot more often when he was still in school. Every time you seemed stressed, he would suggest an impromptu late night drive around the town, making stops at either a gas station or one of the many restaurants near you to get a late night snack.

You sat, once again in comfortable silence, listening to a song you didn’t recognize softly playing through the car radio, as the two of you dug into the lamb shawarmas you’d decided to get as tonight’s late night snack.

“Oh, this shit’s so fucking good,” your brother groaned through a big, messy bite, making you laugh and gag at the same time, and you shove at his shoulder, exclaiming about how gross he was being, before the two of you just end up shoving at each other and giggling like little kids.

You felt good. Normal.

“You know you can talk to me about anything right,” he says, sauce still smeared across his lip and cheek.

“I know, I know,” you say, as you shove a few napkins into his face.

“Unless it’s about sex. I don’t wanna hear about you fucking some dude. Or girl, I don’t care.”

“Wow, okay.”

“But if what’s got you down- and don’t lie, I know something’s up- has something to do with some guy- or girl, like I said, I don’t care- you’ll tell me if it gets too bad right?”

“Define ‘too bad’…,” you say, picking at the wrapper on your now half-eaten shawarma.

“Don’t want you to get hurt, kid, that’s all.”

You look up at your brother, who is looking straight ahead, still chowing on his food. You feel overwhelmed suddenly, and everything from the past week catches up to you.

The stress from wondering if you’ll get into college, the doubt from figuring out if college was even what you wanted to do, and then there was Chris, and oh, how could you tell your brother about any of that? He would absolutely flip, and you feel so ashamed.

You settle on telling him it’s just the stress of college applications.

“Right,” he says, drawing out the word. “Makes sense, makes sense. You know, if you need help with any of it, just let me know yeah?”

You weren’t going to ask him for help. You nod anyway.

“Oh, by the way,” your brother turns to you, leaning against the car door with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Did you hear? The triplets are going to L.A.!”

“What.”

“Yeah! Apparently, their channel is really hitting it off, so they’re like prepping to move there, ‘cause that’s where all the youtubers and influencers are, right? More opportunities and things like that. Isn’t that cool? I’m excited for ‘em.”

Your brother goes back to blissfully munching on his food, leaving you shell shocked and dazed.

“Yeah…good for them.”

-------------------------------------

The next couple of days went by in a blur. You threw yourself into applications, now extending them into a job search to desperately keep yourself occupied. The initial plan had been to take a gap year after school, which is why you’d been so lax with your college prep. Some of your friends had already heard back from their dream schools and were already preparing to move to different places for the upcoming academic year, some were already working, and you were just, in limbo. And you didn’t mind until now, until you’d realized that you’d end up getting left behind by everyone.

Even…Chris.

That asshole still hadn’t texted or called, and the only time you heard about him was through your brother when he’d vaguely mention about seeing the triplets when he went over to their house. You knew that you could just as well contact him, but pride and your hurt feelings kept you from doing so. Instead, you wallowed in shame and anger at having let this man leave you feeling so disoriented.

This wasn't the plan. The plan had been to hit it and quit it, see what the hype around Chris was all about but he’d managed to crawl under your skin, leave you wanting more.

Just as you’re about to work yourself into another spiral over the man, you hear a series of sharp taps against your bedroom window. You look up, startled, to find exactly the person you didn’t want to see right now.

“Since when do you lock your bedroom window?” you hear Chris ask, voice muffled through the glass.

You remain seated on your bed, leaning against your pillows, frozen, before you slowly pick your phone up from where you’d dropped it beside you, and pretend to mindlessly scroll through it.

“Let me in, babe, c’mon-”

A few more seconds go by, with Chris alternating between tapping your window and texting you to get your attention. Worried that he might end up waking the whole house, you finally make a move to open your window.

“I almost fell off that fucking tree waiting for you to-” Chris starts to say, but one look at your face has him stopping in his tracks.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You weren’t sure what he was seeing, but you could feel a knot building up in your throat, a slight tremor in your limbs. The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of this man.

“What do you want, Chris?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of your bed, refusing to look at him, instead focusing on a loose thread on your sheets, picking at it while trying to get your breathing under control.

You feel him step closer to you, until he’s standing right in front of you, your face now level with his waist. Chris’ hand comes up to grab your chin, lifting your head up with a gentleness that surprises you.

“You mad at me, baby?” he asks with a soft smile, and it throws you off, makes you angry, because why the fuck did he have to go sounding like a boyfriend coming home to a girlfriend who’d gotten upset over something trivial?

You huff, rolling your eyes at him, which makes him grab your chin slightly harder.

“Don’t give me that attitude right now,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Why wouldn’t you let me in?”

Your attempt at looking passive was failing, and anger takes over, making you glare daggers at him.

“Two weeks, Chris. Almost two weeks of radio silence, and what, you expect me to just be here waiting for with open arms? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit out, smacking his arm away from you, making him let you go.

“Oh come on,” he drawls out, body going half limp as he lets his head roll back. “I got busy! Didn’t think you’d be this mad, and- and, hold on- I didn’t expect you to be waiting for me, I just don’t get why you’re mad!”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Well yeah, but you already knew that, didn’t you,” he says with a cocky smile, hands reaching out to grab yours. “Stop being so upset, I’m here now, yeah?”

“You can’t just show up whenever it’s convenient for you and expect me to be okay with that. You made plans that night to come to me and just ghosted me! For weeks!”

He looks puzzled, like he genuinely doesn’t understand why you would be upset and that just makes you even more upset.

You feel like an afterthought to him. To a man who had taken up significant space in your life, you were just…nothing. And you can’t blame anyone but yourself for this situation you’re in because you knew **what you were getting into, you knew this was all it would be and yet…

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

Chris freezes up, his fingers that were running up and down your arms stilling against your elbows.

After a brief pause, he sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and burrowing his head into your lap, bringing your hands up around his shoulders.

“How’d you find out?” he asks, voice muffled against your t-shirt. “Wait, let me guess. Your big-mouth brother?”

That makes you chuckle. “Yeah, he mentioned it a few nights ago.”

“I wasn’t lying, I’ve been busy preparing to leave. Nick is the one working on the logistics mostly, but yeah…”

“You could’ve said something,” you whisper, hand coming up to hover over Chris’ head. It seems like Chris senses your hesitation, because he grabs your hand and places it on his head, which you take as permission to run your fingers through the soft strands, combing through the slight knots that were close to his nape and gently smoothing it out.

“We weren’t gonna tell anyone until we had everything figured out.”

“So how did my brother find out?”

“Stupid Matt probably mentioned it when he came over.”

In a distant part of your mind, you think about how weird this all is, having Chris like this, soft and vulnerable, so unlike his usual domineering self. You’re still upset with him, but it feels nice, having this Chris.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I didn’t wanna slip up and end up telling you, which is why I stayed away for a bit.”

“You still could’ve texted, told me something came up.”

“I know,” he whines. “Would you believe me if I said I did mean to text you but every time I thought about it, something else would come up and eventually I just…forgot.”

“Right. You forgot.”

The sharp pain in your chest was starting to feel normal in conjecture with Chris at this point. Of course he just forgot to text you, because that’s how insignificant you were to him.

You pull your hand away from his hair and gently try to move out from under him.

“When are you leaving?” you ask, sitting at your desk to put some physical distance between the two of you, even though your body was screaming to just fall into his arms.

Chris looks at you with an expression you can’t read, before moving to sit on your floor and lean against your bed frame, leaning his elbows over his knees.

“End of the week.”

“That’s two days away.”

He hums, letting his head drop back against your bed.

“Guess your roster of girls are going to have to find a new way to occupy their time, huh?” you say in hopes of lightening the mood.

It undoubtedly does the opposite.

Chris makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. He lifts his head back up and fixes you with a gaze that makes you shiver, his eyes now cold and distant as he smirks up at you.

“One last fuck before I leave? You can find another guy after that, but I doubt anyone here is gonna be anywhere near as good as me,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair.

And that’s how you find yourself under Chris, wrists caught in his hands and held up above your head as he fucks into you.

It’s different this time.

He watches you intently, and it makes you uncomfortable, his unrelenting gaze, but your focus is split between that and the fact that he’s fucking you with deep, slow drags of his cock against your inner walls. He’d eaten you out right before, worked you up and left you wet and sloppy, close to squirting before pushing into you, eyes locked onto your face as he slowly stretched you out.

You could feel it build up inside you, the pressure to release, but he was going slower than usual, focusing on fewer but deeper thrusts that left you biting into your lip to keep you from crying out loud.

“Tell me, who’s gonna fuck you like this, hm?” Chris asks, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Tell me.”

You gasp, your pussy clenching around him as he tightens his grip around your throat.

“No one,” you breathe out, voice low and rough from your throat being squeezed. “No one, no one else, please-”

“Yeah? You’re mine, aren’t you?”

You nod against his grip, near sobbing at this point, begging for him to just fuck you harder and let you cum.

“Say it. Say the words”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, please- please fuck me harder, please-”

Chris lets go of your wrists, but you keep them where they were, and he lets out a satisfied hum which has you preening.

Chris sits up, his hands moving to grab your hips, and you brace yourself to be fucked hard, but Chris keeps up with the slow pace still, as he pulls you onto his lap, making you cry out in frustration, a fresh set of pleas falling from your lips in hopes of urging him to just take from you like he usually does.

You watch through blurry, tear-filled vision as Chris runs his hands up your stomach, palming at your breasts while he bucks up into you.

“Chris, please…”

He ignores you, fingers now drawing invisible lines across the planes and curves of your body, thumbs dipping into the crease between your cunt and thighs, feeling you all over while he watches you with his intense blue eyes.

You almost miss it, what with the blood rushing in your ears and your own moans, but you hear Chris whisper, “I’m going to miss this.”

And that’s what sends you over the edge, the prospect of Chris missing you, even though a rational part of you knows it’s probably just the sex, just this, your warm body under his to be used by him.

Still, it makes you cum harder than you ever have before, leaves you sobbing and almost screaming. Chris holds down your body, your hips thrashing wildly as your cunt leaks and squeezes rhythmically around him, which sets him off and makes him come inside you.

Everything after that follows as usual. He rolls off of you, methodically cleans the both of you off, discards the used condoms and tissues, and tells you he’s leaving.

You watch as he makes his way to your window, back tense as he runs his fingers through his mussed up hair.

“Bye,” you whisper, trying to ignore the fact that it will be a while until you see him again in person. Months, maybe a year, instead of just a week and a half.

Chris turns then, and you can’t make out his expression in the dark, with his back lit by the moonlight.

You watch, breath catching in your throat as he makes his way back to you, hesitating for the first few steps.

He leans over you, knees bent awkwardly as he angles himself to your height. His hands come up to rest over your cheeks, thumbs rubbing across them, before he completely takes you by surprise with a final kiss.

It’s not the kiss itself that catches you off-guard, but the gentleness and timing of it. You and Chris have kissed before, in fact, you’d done it every time he’d fucked you, but only during. Always during. Never after.

He nips at your bottom lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp, his fingers carding through your hair as he angles your head to deepen the kiss. Your hands clutch at the front of his shirt, stretching the fabric. The next few moments are just this, soft touches as you break apart and keeping going back in for more, quiet but heavy breathing in your dark room as you drink each other in.

You feel tears building up behind your closed eyelids, melting into his touch, and it’s almost funny how much this feels like you’re bidding farewell to a long-time, steady lover. One who wasn’t just a casual sex partner.

It makes you laugh, a wet sound that barely covers up the sob that follows it, and Chris chuckles too, leaning his forehead against yours.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he asks to no one in particular.

“I don’t know, Chris,” you answer anyway, your fingers playing with the chain on his neck. “You tell me.”

One more kiss, pressed hard against your lips with a sigh, before he stands back up and makes his way back to your window.

“I’ll see you later,” he says without turning back.

And with that, he was gone.

That was the first and last night Chris had kissed you after sex. It was also the last night you’d see him before he left for L.A.

-------------------------------------

You hadn't realized how big of a gap Chris would leave in your life.

Things kept changing, time kept moving, albeit slowly, but you were still waiting to catch up with everyone else.

You try to fill the void by hanging out with your friends, getting drunk and high, chasing phantoms of Chris at different parties, finding yourself pressed between bodies that were distinctly not his.

You dated. Like, actually tried. Chris had been in your life since you were sixteen, and you hadn’t sought out anyone for two years after that, but it was high time. You’d stayed loyal to a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend and maybe that had been your mistake. Maybe you should’ve pulled a page out of Chris’ book and just slept around like he did, maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so…lost right now.

But you hadn’t wanted anyone else. Not like you wanted him.

Still, you tried, but it was becoming increasingly clear that you had a pattern. The only guys you ended up actually talking to all happened to be older than you, friends, or friends of friends, of your brother. Subconsciously, you were probably seeking out for a proxy of Chris, some way to replace him in the best way you could.

Elijah had been sweet. He took you out on dates, bought you gifts, and was a real gentleman. Your brother had eventually caught on, and when you’d expected him to be mad, he’d actually approved, told you that Elijah was a good guy and that he trusted him to take care of you. That didn’t stop him from giving Elijah the shovel talk though.

It was good, for a while. Elijah was sweet, maybe too sweet. He was soft with his affection, and it made you feel undeserving.

You felt broken, for being unsatisfied with a man as amazing as him.

The breakup was rough. There were tears, both of you an absolute mess as you tried to explain why you were feeling the way you did without giving away too much, and to his credit, Elijah took it well. He was respectful, didn’t pry, and wished you the best.

“I’ve grown to care for you, a lot,” he’d said, holding your hands in his. “I want you to be happy, and if that’s not with me, I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

You hadn’t realized how serious it had been for him.

You felt like a bitch.

Jason was…wild. He was loud and obnoxious in a fun way, and reminded you of a certain someone. The two of you had hooked up in the back of his car upon your second meeting at a bar, the first one being at your house when he’d come over with a bunch of other guys to help your brother move out and into his own apartment closer to the city.

It didn’t last long. He was not a good lay, and that was that.

-------------------------------------

Ray was amazing. You started talking to him a little after you’d decided to go to community college to get your life in track. You’d gotten accepted into a few colleges of your choice, but in the end, you still didn’t know what you really wanted to do, when the local community college’s brochure caught your eye, and you found some exciting writing and teaching courses.

Ray was supportive, knew what he wanted and got you thinking about what you wanted too. A great listener, and even greater in bed. He was a little emotionally distant sometimes, but even that he’d patiently talked to you about, explaining how he had a hard time expressing emotions in front of people.

You were still going strong, many months into talking and dating, and he had yet to do anything that put you off. He’d even come over to your house for dinner with your parents and brother, and everything had gone well.

Days were exciting again, especially with an amazing boyfriend who you seemed to match really well with. The two of you were amazing at communicating, especially because Ray was good at it, and he was influencing you in such a positive way. You were also sexually so, so compatible, and it just, worked.

Everything was going well.

Until one night, when you’re getting ready to go on a date with Ray, and you hear voices downstairs, loud excited exchanges. You figure it’s Ray and your brother just chatting it up before you have to leave, so you hurry up, fix your hair and put on your heels, before rushing downstairs to greet your man.

The sight that greets you has you stopping dead in your tracks.

“Oh.”

At the sound of your voice, all heads in the room turn toward you. Nick, Matt, and Chris had come back to visit their family, and had decided to stop by your place to see their best friend. Your parents and your brother were there too, and suddenly everyone is exclaiming about how great you look.

You feel disoriented, trying to keep your reaction normal as you brush off compliments from your parents, Nick and Matt. Your brother just rolls his eyes with an affectionate look, while Chris remains silent, his eyes raking over your figure.

“Well, you’re way too dressed up to just be hanging out with friends,” Matt comments eventually. “Date?”

Your mother answers for you. “Oh, she’s been seeing Ray! He’s such a nice boy.”

Your father grunts, muttering something under his breath but nodding all the same.

To anyone else, besides his brothers perhaps, Chris looked like the picture of impassive, but you’d learned to read his body language over the years.

He was pissed. You could tell.

Thing is, even after Chris had left, the two of you had kept in touch. You’d done your best to avoid watching the triplets’ videos, especially after you’d come across ones that featured Chris with different influencers, the prettiest girls you’d ever seen. You didn’t need to work yourself up over the fact that he was around all these beautiful people now. It didn’t matter anymore.

But avoiding the videos was different from avoiding the man himself. You couldn’t help it, texting him every now and then, asking about life in L.A. He always answered, even if sometimes it was days late. Neither of you brought up what had transpired on the last night he’d spent with you before he left, and neither of you talked about the casual sex that had preceded it.

It was an interesting development, talking to Chris like he was just another friend. He didn’t seem like he way trying too hard to maintain a certain facade, like he was trying to hide parts of him.

The two of you talked a lot more in the almost one year apart than you did in the two years you’d been in each other’s vicinity.

You’d conveniently left out the part about you dating Ray though, or any of the other guys, from all your conversations. You didn’t feel the need to. It’s not like Chris was talking about all the dates he was going on, and you were sure there were plenty of those back in L.A., so in the interest of keeping things friendly and casual and normal, you didn’t talk about your love life.

You announce to the room that you’re going to grab a drink from the kitchen, hoping to escape the chaos and wait for Ray in there.

Your parents retreat back to their room. You hear your brother and the triplets chat for a while before you hear Chris ask if there was any Pepsi in the house. You hear your brother offer to grab him one, but he politely says he’d just get it himself.

A few beats of silence, before you hear soft footsteps that get louder as they get closer to the kitchen.

“How long?” Chris asks, as he appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

“What?” you ask, hands gripping the counter as you watch him move closer to you.

“Ray. How long have you been seeing him?”

He pauses right in front of you, towering over you, as he waits for you to answer.

“It’ll be our six month anniversary in a couple of days,” you answer, looking down and choosing to focus on your own clothes, picking at a hem of your sleeve.

“Funny, you didn’t mention him in any of your texts.”

“Didn’t feel the need to,” you reply, turning your head to the side when you feel his face moving closer to yours. “Besides, it’s not like you were telling me about all the people you were dating back in L.A.”

“I wasn’t dating anyone.”

“Dating, fucking, whatever.”

Chris tenses at that, before stepping closer, hands caging you against the counter, and you catch the faint whiff of weed on his clothes.

“You look good,” he finally says, hand coming up to brush against the fabric of your dress where it was cut against your thigh.

“Thank you,” you mumble, wondering how no one had come in to see what’s taking either of you so long in the kitchen.

Just as you’re about to suggest that you both go back outside to sit with others, before you do something you regret, you hear the doorbell ring, and Ray’s voice calling out for you.

You jump, trying to get past Chris, but his hands stay where they are, palms on the counter as his head drops to your shoulder, mumbling something you couldn’t quite catch.

“What?”

“I missed you, baby. Couldn’t fuck anyone without thinking of you.”

And before you know it, he’s stepping away and backing out of the kitchen, his Pepsi forgotten on the counter.

You stay frozen, trying to process what happened. Ray eventually comes to you in the kitchen, greets you with a smile and a deep kiss, tells you how beautiful you look before whisking you away and into his car for your date.

And the whole time, all you can think about is Chris.

author’s note: idk how i feel about this one, it's plot heavy and angsty and i feel like idk idk if anyone's gonna like it but here (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife @spideylovin @sturnclouds

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 15

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

“I need to put you down.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders, and your legs locked together circling his waist. You shook your head in disagreement, feeling as though he would disappear the moment he slipped away from your grasp like grains of sand, and all of this was merely a fever dream.

Keegan sighed out loud, his hands traveling from your thighs then underneath your butt, and hoisted you up, to keep you in place. He took some steps forward, peeking around the corner of an alleyway, and slowly slid down to the ground. His hands took nest around your waist and adjusted you on his lap.

“Fine, let's stay here for a short while,” he said in a low voice, his warm breath fanning your ear.

You clawed onto his clothes and forced yourself to let go. You pulled away from him and gazed into a pair of icy-blue eyes, which you didn’t expect to behold so soon, to have him before you in an unwanted place like this, when you left his side over a year ago. But it was just like this, all the times you had spent with him, always at arm's length, never truly in his arms—never he was yours.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but reach up to his mask and pull it down to his chin, tracing your fingers over the line of his jaw which felt a hit rough from the stubble.

You were never his, and yet, you found yourself questioning what he had been thinking over the past year as he pulled you tight to his chest.

You wanted his mouth on yours, and now, in this dark alleyway that smelled of sewers, under the cold rain, on the run from the hunting shadows, it was happening. Your lips parted as his thumb brushed over their petal softness, and you combed your fingers into the undercut at the nape of his neck.

Keegan felt tingles wash down his back, like what you have always done to him as he closed the gap between your mouths, first with the utmost gentleness, then with the hunger of a starved man. You made a delicious little sound, which he drank and responded with the same hunger, sparking a fire in his stomach that he had once lost.

He didn't want it to stop.

You didn't want it to stop, yet you knew you didn't deserve such a wish, and so, you pulled away, or tried, but he kept you in place.

“You're the one who didn't want to let go, now you're the one pulling away?” He muttered on your lips, resting his forehead against yours, and your noses touching one another.

You forced a smile upon your face. “We need to get moving, yeah?”

“Touche,” he remarked and averted his gaze onto your shoulder. “Let’s treat this first.”

You nodded, and reluctantly and slowly, you got off his lap, letting him rummage on kit he had behind him. “We don't have time to stitch it, so a bandage should work for now,” you said, patting his chest for a knife and found one. With it, you tore your sleeve off leaving your shoulder bare, and put the knife back in its place.

He didn't utter an answer, but you knew he was listening and agreed to your statement as he pulled out a bandage from the kit. Lifting your arm up, he quickly wrapped your wound with the bandage, wincing at the tugs he made to secure the fabric in place, but he didn't take long till he tied it up on a knot.

You rolled your shoulder and squeaked when he flicked your forehead. “Bro, the fuck?” You rubbed the sore spot.

“Don't move it too much, idiot.” He got up on his feet and extended you a hand. “And don't call me ‘bro’ after you kissed me.”

“Well, I was just trying to make sure I can still move,” you scoffed and took his hand with your good one, letting yourself be pulled up to your feet. “And you are the one who kissed me, bro.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and pulled his mask back up to his nose. “You initiated it, bro.”

You rolled your eyes, which he copied, and when you met his eyes once again, you couldn’t help but smile. He shook his head at you and placed his hand on your head, ruffling your hair which was already a mess. You grumbled as he started to walk and peeked around the corner for the second time. With a motion of his hand, you quickly followed him into another alleyway, and from your peripheral, you saw corpses scattered on the street, blood staining the pavement red.

You heaved a loud sigh and something crackled from your comms, Soap’s voice coming in.

“Bravo 7-1, in the blind . . . how copy?”

Just before you could click on the comms and speak, Keegan covered your mouth with his hand, pressing you against the wall as a Shadow passed by. He waved his hand, telling you to stand by, and with practiced movements he rushed towards the contractor, plunging his knife through the neck. He dragged him back to your position and carefully laid him down so as to not trigger any unwanted noises. Then, he nodded at you.

That moment, the lieutenant answered, making you sigh in relief. “This is Ghost, how copy?”

You clicked on the comms and in a hushed voice, you said, “Snapdragon, uh, Shampoo to 141, how copy?”

“Shampoo?” Keegan echoed, confusion clear in his voice.

“Long story,” you simply replied to the man, pulling a face as you listened to the 141’s reply, but it seemed like they couldn’t hear your answer at all as they went on a conversation of their own, then cursed out as it dawned at you. Your way of communicating back was the throat mic that you forgot to remove after burning Valeria’s house and Ghost took it back to the ship. “Fuck, they won’t hear me.”

Keegan reached for the wires on your vest, carefully eyeing each one. “They don’t seem damaged.”

“No, but I talk with them through a throat mic.” Your hand flew to your neck, rubbing the sore spot where you scratched and clawed. “God, damn it.”

Keegan watched you tap your feet against the group rapidly in repeat, one of your mannerisms that he picked up throughout the years you spent with him. Seeing your dejected gaze on the ground, mapping out your next moves in silence, he removed his earpiece, disconnecting it, and reached for his comms. “Russ to Walkers, how copy?”

You snapped your head at his way, eyes widening at the mention of surnames, and voices that you had longed to hear.

“Hesh to Keegan, on the way to save a British ass,” then a second of pause, “although, I don’t think this one is British. Ehh, Scottish, maybe?”

At the same time, a quiet voice answered, “On it.”

Your vision began to blur, tears threatening to run down from your eyes as you realized how much you missed their voice, how you prayed and repeated their words over and over again in your head, in fear that you would forget about them. And you let the tears fall as a searing touch, one you would burn the world for, wiped them off your cheeks.

You buried your face in Keegan’s palm, hand cupping over his, as you bit down on your lip, to silence your sobs.

“Good, I’ve got our lady,” Keegan announced and pulled you into his embrace, muffling your cries in his chest.

Immediately, Hesh demanded, “Put her on, let me talk to her. Put her on, Keegan—”

“Shut up, won't you? She's preoccupied.” Keegan swiped a strand of hair from your face and rested his chin on top of your head.

“Preoccupied?” David repeated. “You're not fucking her in the middle of the street, are you?”

Keegan had never rolled his eyes so hard until this moment. “Why the fuck would I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you glowered, pushing on Keegan's comms, and sniffed to stop your disgusting snot from dripping on his vest. His words made you pull yourself together, almost literally making you push the remaining tears back in your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” a chuckle reverberated from the comms, getting you to smile. “Hey, how've you been?”

“You want the truth or the filtered one?”

“Since when do you filter anything you say?”

“Touche.” You snorted. “Well, tortured, imprisoned, and now I'm here, I guess?”

“I said the unfiltered version!” He yelled through the comms, and muttered a curse, making you shake your head. “Not the short version,” he finished.

“It'll be too long of a talk, man.”

“Good point.”

“Are you alright?” Logan joined in.

You giggled at his question and wiped the excess rain water from your face. “Yeah, never been better. I feel like I could take on anything right now.”

“That's you when you're high,” the younger Walker remarked, making you gasp, his brother laughing and Keegan stifling a laugh.

“Is this a reunion or a roasting competition?” You questioned.

“Both,” he simply answered.

You rolled your eyes, and silence rolled in for a moment, which you immediately broke. “Hey, make sure to mention me to the 141 or show them something that tells them you're not a threat.”

“Rog,” Logan quickly replied, ever the quiet and straightforward man more than Keegan.

“This guy's looking funny tho,” Hesh commented and you knew immediately what he was gonna talk about. “A mohawk, really? He looks like a rooster. It gives off the vibe of someone who made a bad decision in life. He should have just shaved it all off.”

You shook your head. “Like you can talk.”

“At least I don't look like a stegosaurus.”

You covered your mouth, clamping your lips, and closed your eyes to stop the laughter threatening to escape from you. You thought your first impression of Soap was bad, referring to him as a rooster—an ostrich even, and here your brother was, calling the Scot a dinosaur.

You removed your hand from your face. “You need to stop,” you demanded, breathing heavily to calm yourself. “Because if you don't, I won't be able to stop laughing and we will get compromised.”

“Rotten pineapple looking ass.”

“Stop—”

“The dark evil troll from Trolls Movie.”

“Hesh—”

“The visual representation of hair growing on the tip of the penis.”

“BWAHAHAHAHA—hmph!” Keegan's hand clamped over your mouth, but it didn't stop you from laughing on his hand, hitting the Sergeant’s arm. Your body trembled, your eyes watered and it felt like air had been knocked out from your lungs.

You were so going to hell for this.

But your laughter immediately died down as you heard footsteps rushing towards your location, and you shot a look of apologies to the sergeant.

He shook his head at you and gestured at you both to get to work, just like the old times.

Soap looked over his shoulder once more, eyes narrowing at the dim alleyway behind him for the third time. He could have sworn he heard some voices, but everytime he took a stumbling step forward, his footfall and the conversations between Shadows would drown out the noise which had been following him for a few minutes now.

He got in contact with Ghost, but he had not heard a word from their bonnie since he escaped on his own. And the Lt. even stated that you stayed behind to let him escape and gave him a phone to contact Price, but the phone had died down due to the unfortunate weather.

 Although, at first, he was a bit cautious of what you wrote on the notebook, at the moment, their last resort was to believe your words, and his mission now was to get away from the Shadows, meet up with the lieutenant and get Price.

Only, if he wasn't so dizzy right now that it seemed like everything was spinning and he fell on his knees.

“Hey.”

Shit. He rushed back up on his feet. That sounded American.

“Leave me no choice.”

The next thing he knew, a hand covered his mouth. He struggled to get out of the man’s grasp, the slickness of their clothes made it hard along with the fact his arm was hurting and he was dragged back into an alley.

Just as Soap got hold of the man's arm, something was shoved before his eyes, making him freeze. A photo of a woman between two men, hugging one another and sporting huge and bright smiles on their faces. His eyes widened at the features of the woman.

Bonnie.

“Recognize her?” Hesh let go of Soap and slowly backed away from him, still showing the photo whilst he raised his other hand in the air.

Soap pushed himself to the wall. “That's . . .” he trailed off, scanning the man from head to toe. Sounds American, looks American.

“My sister,” Hesh confessed and stashed the photo in his pocket. “We're here to help around, by her request.”

Soap frowned. “Ye donnae look like her.”

“She's adopted.”

That made him frown even more. How could someone just casually say that? But more importantly, why didn't you mention any family members to the 141 before? Heck, now that he raked his mind about you, he barely knew anything about you at all. You were like a big puzzle with so many pieces missing and the pieces he had in his hands might even be lies.

“If you don't believe me, feel free to ask anything that can make you believe me,” Hesh offered and reached for his kit, fishing out a roll of bandage and a stim shot, which he threw at Soap.

Soap easily snatched it from the air and stared at the ivory fabric, then met the man’s eyes, cerulean ones to viridian. “You couldn't stop Shepherd from capturing her?”

Hesh raised his brows. “Goddamn, she's hiding this much from you lots?” He clicked his tongue rapidly. “You’re mistaken.”

“Mistaken?”

“She let herself be captured.”

Ghost stared at the photo the man in a skull mask showed to him. He positioned a knife against the man’s neck and had him pinned against the wall. But he remained unmoving from his place, inching the blade closer to the man’s throat. “What's this?”

Logan stayed silent for a moment, eyes unblinking, boring straight to the lieutenant’s eyes, and in a monotone, he said, “A photo.”

“Fuckin’ hell—I know what a photo is,” Ghost grunted, pushing him harder against the surface, but the man remained unfazed. They were at the top floor of the cathedral where they could see most of the vicinity, and just as when he thought he was alone, with no Shadows following him, lurking in the dark to strike him, this man appeared like a ghost on the hunt for another ghost.

“A sibling photo,” Logan quipped.

Ghost frowned underneath his balaclava, annoyance getting onto his nerves. “You're her brother?”

Logan nodded. “We came to help.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes at him. “Why should I believe you?” he questioned and darted his eyes down to the man's hand, watching him reach for his comms.

Logan disconnected his earpiece and with a click, he spoke. “Gremlin, come in.”

Not a few seconds later, your voice echoed from the comms that the lieutenant now could hear. “You with the Lt. now?”

Ghost's grip on his knife slightly loosened and held back the sigh of relief that threatened to rush past his lips.

“Yes,” Logan croaked.

And your next few words made something that Simon had already buried in the dark long ago to step into the light once again.

“That's a relief. Take care of him for me.”

Keegan already getting in action while Simon is still walking to that point 💀 (I had fun thinking of insults to Soap's mohawk, sorry not sorry) The Walkers being menaces tho, and I'm sorry for the late update, I forgot I didn't upload it here on Tumblr.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[daydreams-after-dark]

feel like ive sent a lotta requests to u for some reason? 😭 but rn i have the idea of usually dom! fem.reader being asked if sub!skz can dom them n they fuck so good her brain is basically a mush. (would you believe me if i say i kinda dreamt of the part b4 fucking but i woke up..?)

First and foremost... it sucks when you wake up before the action happens!!! I feel ya!!

A/n: I don’t normally use pics with faces, but I needed to demonstrate the mask I mention.

MDNI /// NSFW /// MDNI /// NSFW

CW: established relationship, gang bang, degradation, name calling, unprotected p in v, reference to anal sex, restraints, spanking, writing on body, dom skz, sub reader, role reversal, slapping, rough sex, aftercare.

//////////

You’re usually calling the shots. Demanding. Instructing. But every so often you wondered what’d be like to be the submissive for once? Domming was sometimes exhausting. Taking care of them and their needs, it was a lot of responsibility.

Maybe they all could work together to take care of you for a change?

You knew a few of your subs were in fact switches, so they were who you approached to discuss this important matter with.

“You want us to dom you?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you can take it?" Minho adds.

“Are you sure you will know how to take care of me?” You counter.

But it doesn't take long for their devious brains to formulate a plan.

You get to be an absolute fucking pillow princess for the night. They tie you up, take turns. All your holes get used over and over simultaneously. You can barely breath you're choking on so much cock, and they love the pretty tears that are streaming down your face.

Of course, to begin with spanking is involved - with your riding crop. The one you love to use on Jisung. It makes you so dripping wet hearing Minho direct Sungie to to use that same riding crop to cause red marks on your body.

"Again, Sungie. She needs five more. Harder." He instructs him.

Then there's the moment Hyunjin and Felix bully both their cocks into your pussy. At the same time. While a few of the others hold you in place so you can’t move or squirm or resist in any way.

Then they adorn you in your black leather rabbit half mask and chain you to the bed. You’re in a This is when they really get started.

Changbin runs the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, then pushes it into your mouth, pressing against the inside of your cheek. “Such a fucked out little bunny.” All you can do is look at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to fuck your face. Of course he does, removing his fingers and pressing his fat tip past your lips.

Meanwhile Felix is eating you out, slurping on your cunt like it’s his dinner.

Minho cums on the side of your face, pumping his cock with his hand. He needs you all messy, so he smears it all over your cheek with his dick.

Without warning, your legs are bent up around your shoulders. Time for another round of fucking your holes. Chan starts with an onslaught of rough, hard thrusts. Then Jeongin. Hyunjin forces you to deep throat him, and you’re pretty sure someone is rubbing their dick on your foot.

One by one they fill you with the cocks you love so much. And you’ve taught them well too. They know how to thrust so they hit that sweet spot. They know how deep they need to go to make you scream. They know how hard to slap your tits and your face.

Orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. All while they talk amongst themselves about how much of a “whore” you’re being tonight.

They laugh at how pathetic your whimpers are, and taunt you about good you look as a cum dump. That you’re a “filthy little pet only good for your holes”. You feel the cold wetness of a felt tip marker on your skin. Seungmin, the meanie, writing god knows what on your body.

You just lay there smiling absentmindedly because you’re too fucked out to say or do anything. Your brain isn’t even working now.

Your gorgeous young men are treating you exactly how you want them to, taking care of your needs so well, and you cum again, making a mess all over the face between your legs. You glance down through hazy eyes and almost, almost, say “good boy, Sungie” when you see him drink up every last drop of your arousal.

Eventually they are finished with you, releasing your wrists and removing the mask.

“Go on.” Chan laughs. “Go clean up.” But your legs are jelly and you can’t stand. You’re forced to crawl, pull yourself along the floor. Pathetically. All while they laugh at you.

“Look at you. Too fucked stupid to move.”

“Probably won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“Fuck. Someone better carry her to the bath, at this rate all that cum in her hair will have dried so much it won’t wash out.”

Minho scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom, where one of the others had been drawing you a bath while you’d been struggling on the floor.

Felix washes your hair, Chan washes your body. The rest of your lovers are busy too: Hyunjin changing the sheets, Minho preparing snacks, Jisung finding a movie for you to all wash. Jeongin finding your pyjamas and slippers, and Seungmin blow drying your hair for you so you don’t catch a cold. Binnie ensuring you stretch those hammies and providing you with hot wheat bags.

You fall asleep amongst them. Happy and content. You needed this break.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere @withnia

[to-the-stars8]

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 13

“So,” you said into the phone as you looked out the window. There was a hint of a coy smile on your face. “When do I get to see you again?”

You heard Jason chuckle on the other end of the line before saying, “Obsessed with me already, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, as you sat on the window sill. “But, seriously, it's nearly been a week since I saw you.”

Two weeks ago, Jason asked you to be his girlfriend officially, which was great. He was everything you had hoped for in a boyfriend; attentive, kind, sexy, and overall just a good guy. The only downside was that he worked a lot and was a bit secretive about a few things. It did raise a couple of red flags, but it wasn’t enough for him to put you off. 

“Look across the street, sweetheart, ” Jason said into the phone. 

You did and saw him there. He waved at you with a big grin on his face, and in his other hand, he held up a bouquet of roses. Happily, you told him to come over and started down toward the entrance of your building. Embracing him, you gave him a big kiss on the cheek, before taking his hand to lead him up to your apartment. 

“You really didn’t have to get these,” You said as you shut the door behind you. Putting the roses up to your nose you took in the smell, before pulling a vase from one of the cabinets. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t thank me, please. Your smile is thank you enough.” He winked at you as he took the flowers out of your hand. Damn, you thought, you wondered what planet he had come from to be so perfect. Jason started unwrapping the roses and cutting their stems for you. “Have you eaten yet? I could order something for us if you like.”

“No, no, I’m okay,” You said, looking up at him. He was so beautiful. All you wanted to do was pull him into you. “How was work?”

You didn’t know what his work was exactly, but, from what little he told you, he worked in trade. After a few moments, he answered, “It was work. You know what they say, sweetheart, another day, another dollar.”

“Another day, another dime, you mean.” You mumbled as you put the cut roses into the vase. You admired them, fingers reaching out to feel the soft petals as you carried the vase into the living room to place in the center of the coffee table. “They look perfect.”

You turned to Jason, who was suddenly standing behind you, and put your hands on his chest. You asked for a kiss and he shyly complied. Looking at him, you would have never suspected that a man who looked like he could be in Blackgate and run it could be so cute. When you went in for another he had started to pull away but stopped short when he noticed you moving. 

He quietly said, “Oh,” before leaning down to meet your lips again. 

Jason was a sweet kisser, you realized. He was attentive to all the smallest details—he never dared get too close, waited for you to pull away and initiate, and, finally, always studied you for anything you might give away with a look. Touching his cheek, you thanked him again for the roses before urging him to take off his coat. 

“Make yourself at home, babe,” you said, taking his coat off his shoulders. “You know the saying, mi casa es su casa.”

Jason sat awkwardly as he watched you run about your apartment. First, you cleaned the coffee table, then you made him a cup of coffee and followed that up with fluffing up his pillows. You were pushing books out of the way, and he realized that you must have been in the middle of organizing your bookshelf. 

 You were setting down a glass of water for yourself, when Jason said, “Sit down, I came over here to hang out, not to watch your ass run about.”

If he had been any other man, you would have smacked him for talking to you like that. You hated to admit it, but you liked his rough tone and the way he hit the spot next to him for you to sit. When you sat, he inched a bit closer to you with the hesitance of a teenage boy on a first date. It was astounding how he could be so virginal one minute and the next ooze fuck boy charm. 

After a second consideration, you decided to give him a bit more than he would have anticipated. You were sitting turned toward him, leaning against his arm that was slung on the back of the couch, and slowly reached up to touch his chest. As you did, you moved your face closer so he could kiss you again as his hand slid down toward the belt of his pants. 

Jason caught your wrist. “What’re you…” He cut himself by pressing his lips to yours. 

Your tongue darted across his bottom lip, encouraging them to part. When he let out a gasp, you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You felt Jason’s grip on your wrist tighten and you took that opportunity to press closer to him. His lips were chapped, and you could taste the tiny bit of cigarette still on them. He was getting you addicted to the flavor. 

Jason said your name when you parted briefly for a breath, and you couldn’t help yourself. You took your hand from him to cup his cheek before pulling him to you. Jason welcomed it, moaning into the kiss, and that’s when you stopped. 

“Jason,” You whispered against his lips. You didn’t want to give him too much. Instead, you pressed gentle kisses into his neck. As you did so, you noticed him slowly trying to pull a decorative pillow on his lap. You smiled against his neck before moving your nose to bump against his. “I need to finish re-organizing my bookcase, would you like to help or watch my ass do it?”

“I’ll…” He could hardly begin his sentence. You watched as his eyes flickered down to the pillow in his lap. “I’ll watch.”

“Okay.”

Getting up, you picked up book after book, striking up a conversation with him like you hadn’t just given him a hard-on. After a couple of deep breaths and thinking about literally anything else, Jason managed to calm down. He eventually started to engage in the conversation, finding himself liking you more and more with every word you spoke. 

His eyes looked around at the books on the floor, taking in the titles that gave him hints of you. Right at his feet was an old copy of Persuasion. Upon first glance, he could tell it was slightly old and well-read. The corners of the paper-back were a little furled, the spine was severely creased, and the pages had started to yellow. Picking it up, he opened it to see his own handwriting on the title page. 

Could I persuade you to go out with me? - JT

Jason couldn’t help but cringe. He was going to put the book down before something slipped out from the pages. A picture of the two of you fell onto the pillow on his lap. It was a homecoming photo. In it, he was wearing a black tux that Alfred had tailored for him and you were in a sparkly blue dress. The smile the two of you had was bright and sweet, and Jason remembered you quietly urging him to kiss him. He could remember that from under the bleachers, he could still hear the sound of music and his heart thumping in his chest. When you leaned in to kiss him, Jason felt his hands shake slightly from the nerves. 

“Wasn’t I a cute kid?” Your voice cut through the memory. He looked up at you before nodding in agreement. 

“Who’s…uh, who’s the kid? He looks familiar,” Jason asked as he handed you the picture and book. 

You took it with a smile, admiring the photo before putting it back into the book and shoving it on the shelf. “That’s my first boyfriend. He’s a Wayne kid which might be why he looks familiar. His paper was in the newspaper for a minute after he died.” 

Jason was a little hurt by the way you talked about him like he was some indifferent topic in a long conversation. It reminded him that, to the people he once knew, he was gone. Jason knew he shouldn’t have expected anything less, and had told himself a million times that you weren’t going to be stuck over some little high school romance. Life would move on after his ended, but he didn’t want to be an offhand comment or little article.

Jason suddenly needed to move and picked up some of the books on the floor. “Where do you want them?”

“Um, romance books are going on the second shelf and history books on the third,” You said as you slid another book in place. As Jason put up the books, you asked, “What’s your favorite book?”

“I know some assholes might say it's girly, but I like Pride and Prejudice,” Jason admitted. “It was the first book I picked up at the local library. How about you?”

You smiled before tapping the rough spine of Persuasion. “Looks like we both got a taste for romance.” Jason’s heart fluttered and he smiled at you. 

Maybe the half-agony and half-hope hadn’t been something only he had felt.

[otomiyaa]

Day 25: Boo

Solomon, Barbatos, Simeon x Reader

[Miya & Mia’s Tickletober 2023] - Better late than never, on tumblr now. @hakurei-k

Word Count: 1.1K

You weren’t sure what they were up to, but they were all here at Cocytus Hall. Solomon, Barbatos and Simeon. Seeing them so busy, gathered around something that had their precious attention, you couldn’t help but want to practice your stealth skills for no reason at all. You slithered into the room, and decided to attack the person in the middle for optimal results.

“Boo!” you yelled. The results were not optimal. Rather than scared, Simeon looked merely surprised and calmly turned around, and the chain-jump scare you were aiming for, with Simeon jumping, then startling Barbatos and Solomon as well for a nice little cry in unison, didn’t happen in the slightest. Simeon did show you a cute pout though.

“Did you hear that, Solomon? Your apprentice is boo’ing me. I’m deeply offended.”

You jolted. Eh? Boo’ing?! 

“Huh? No! I just wanted to scare you!” you said, and you then noticed that Simeon was holding his phone. Ah. They must’ve been helping him with something since you knew Simeon wasn’t the most handy person when it came to the D.D.D.

“You clearly were boo’ing Simeon. Poor Simeon. It is not his fault that he’s clumsy with his D.D.D.” 

Barbatos gave you the headshake of disapproval as he said this, and you gasped. 

“No, it was a scare-boo! Not a boo-boo!” Your explanation was the worst, but it didn’t matter. Whatever you would say, they were all approaching you and closing you in... Whaaat! 

“Solomon, I hope you do not mind if we apprehend our friend here for hurting Simeon’s feelings,” Barbatos said, and you squeaked when he gently but firmly grabbed your shoulder, pulling you back when you tried to dance out of the way.

“Ahahapprehend? Now wahahait a second!” You had no idea why you were laughing so nervously, it was as if your body already knew what was coming.

Solomon nodded. “Please, go ahead. I suggest a tickle punishment, they work wonders.” 

He didn’t need to tell them twice. Barbatos pulled you against him, and Simeon started to poke your sides playfully.

“Yay, tickle punishment!” he chirped. You threw your head back, and luckily Barbatos was much taller than you were or he would have received a serious headbutt.

“Guhuhuys! Come ohohon! I wahahasn’t booihihing Simeohohon!” you laughed, squirming against Barbatos. You squeaked when you could feel him lower his hands to your waist,and he squeezed gently, but it tickled so bad.

“Alright. Let me join in,” Solomon suddenly said, stepping forward and reaching for your stomach. You were now literally squeezed between the three of them, and each one of them tickled you with different techniques. 

Barbatos was digging into your lower sides at the moment. Simeon playfully poked you between the ribs and also tried to tickle your underarms which you were defending quite successfully. Solomon was… wiggling his fingers all over your stomach. Intense!

“HHAHAHa! Nohohoho! Guys hehehe- dohohon’t!” you warned. Simeon gave Solomon a judging look. 

“I wouldn’t do it like that.” 

Barbatos clicked his tongue. “Aren’t you being too rough?” he asked as Solomon spidered his fingers all over your tickle spots as if his life depended on it. Solomon shook his head.

“People, if there’s anyone who knows how to tickle my apprentice the best, that would be me, don’t you think?” he asked, and you wanted to laugh at Solomon addressing Barbatos and Simeon with ‘people’. But you were already laughing.

“Heehehehe NO- Nononono hahaahha!” you yelled when Barbatos finally took your arms and moved them up over your head.

“Go ahead,” he told Simeon who was still trying to tickle your armpits.

“Thank you,” Simeon said, slipping his fingers right in to poke at the centers of your armpits. Solomon bumped with his hip against Simeon, startling him.

“More like this,” he said, and his hands moved past Simeon’s and wiggled their fingers viciously against your poor ticklish underarms.

“WAHAHAH! Nahaha Solomon ahahaha plehehease!” you cackled. Simeon seemed impressed.

“He does seem to know what he is doing.” 

Solomon frowned. “Why are you even surprised? I am quite competent, you know. Also, don’t forget it was me who just told you how to quick-search a message on your phone.”

“But it was me who actually helped finding that message,” Barbatos argued.

“That’s because it was your message.” 

You had no idea what exactly was going on here, except that it was related to what those three were doing with Simeon’s D.D.D. And you couldn’t ask either. Just laugh.

“Simeohohon nohoho!” you laughed when the angel kneeled before you and tested the sensitivity of your hips and inner thighs, since Solomon did not intend to collaborate for the armpit tickle fest.

Meanwhile Barbatos gathered both your arms into one hand and used the other to claw at your ribs - all of a sudden way less gentle, much firmer than earlier, and you shook heavily and spasmed against him.

“Barbatohohoos ahahahaha!” you whined. How much more could you take? To your surprise, Solomon indeed proved to know you quite well as he raised his hand finally and invited the others to stop too.

“That’s enough, I think,” he announced with a kind smile. Barbatos released you and you fell into Solomon’s arms. 

“S-so mean,” you whined. Solomon chuckled and patted your shoulder.

“It’s fine to sometimes be mean. Can be fun, right?” he asked. You rolled your eyes fondly and blushed. It wasn’t that bad indeed, but…

“I found it,” Simeon chirped. You could see that he and Barbatos were casually resuming the D.D.D. business again as if that whole tickle attack never happened. 

“Good,” Barbatos said. Solomon joined them as well, and with his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you along so you could find out what all the fuss was about. It appeared that Simeon had lost a recipe that Barbatos once sent to him in a chat. Simeon wanted to find the recipe, but he did not know how to search through the chat, and did not know the keywords either. 

“Now I can make it for Luke. And…” Simeon poked your nose playfully. “You can have some too.” 

You blushed and nodded shyly. Solomon laughed. “Need a hand with that?” he asked, nodding at the recipe. Solomon and Barbatos immediately jolted and shook their heads.

“No.” 

You covered your mouth with your hand and held back a laugh before Solomon would notice. He kind of had the tendency to tickle you whenever you laughed at him, and you were still in your recovery phase from the triple attack just now. And all because… you wanted to startle them with ‘boo’! 

[harrietwritesstuff]

fill for 9. inescapable migraine. 1.5k words.

Move. Get up. You have to move. You can’t lie here.

The throbbing pulse of his heart seems to have moved into his brain - sharper, crueller - savage in its all consuming intensity. Saliva pools in his mouth. He can't feel anything other than the swelling ache that pushes against his skull, claws digging in, pulling his head apart - piece by jagged piece.

It has eclipsed everything.

Get up. Now. There is so much to do. You're wasting time.

The palm of his hand rests against the cold floor, fingers shaking. Dimly, Volodymyr knows this is wrong; the President of Ukraine, curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, forehead pressed against the tile. He can't bring himself to care. It’s cold here; cold, dark and utterly silent.

Just let me stay. Let me lie here. Leave me be.

Move. Everything depends on you. You need to get up.

Nausea rises in his stomach again, and he reaches out blindly, opening his eyes to the screaming brightness of the overhead lights, white tiles, ceramic. Raising his head makes him dizzy, the world blurred as he scrabbles about to find purchase on the edge of the sink, pulling himself up shakily. The floor shifts beneath him and he dry heaves. There's nothing in his stomach - just acrid saliva flooding his mouth. It tastes horribly sour, and he retches suddenly, again - again - his head spinning. It passes eventually, leaving his throat scratched, his stomach sore, his skull pulsating with a newer, more savage ache that has slipped behind his eyes now too, taking hold. He sinks back to the floor, or tries to at least, eyes closed - desperate to get away from the stinging lights.

He misses then, a quiet step, a soft voice.

“Oh love. Let's get you back to bed.”

Somewhere outside of the all consuming agony in his head, he feels a strong arm beneath his shoulders and around his back, pulling him slowly, carefully upright.

“You're alright. Hold onto me.”

Vova lists to one side, trembling as he rests against Maks. Maksym's warm, gentle fingers press against his waist, just for a moment, before reaffirming his grip. Their small, shuffling  journey is painfully, horribly slow - even as cold tile gives way to polished wooden flooring; a distance of no more than ten meters. His eyes flicker open cautiously, sensing the change in environment, bare feet still cold against the floor. The tiny pool of light by the bed feels like an assault on his senses, his head screaming for it to stop, for the stabbing pain to lessen as it lances through him, every part of him suddenly tense.

“M’ tired. Hurts.”

His voice is hoarse, weary, and Maksym feels it as keenly as though it were a wound of his own. Vova squints up at him, his face grey-green even in the bare light. There's a blown blood vessel in his left eye, red seeping into the white around his iris, inflamed.

In a voice hardly louder than a breath and determinedly steady, Maks offers out a scrap of reassurance.

“I know. I know. Just keep going for me. You can close your eyes. I won't let you fall.”

Maks would lift him, carry him - he'd do anything for this man - but he knows it will just make the nausea worse; the need for steady ground, for the world not to shift, to move again - just to make it through this moment, and then the next- and the next, and on.

“Mmm-” The responding exhale is half a groan, all Vova’s careful trust implicit in the way his eyes slide half shut again, moving blindly, the weight of him against Maksym, believing him utterly.

“A little further. Almost there.”

After what feels like miles, those same, gentle, constant hands guide him to sit down, a half-collapse to the edge of the bed, sinking into the thin mattress.

“Vova?”

He opens his eyes a little more, Maksym's face filling his vision, blurred and unsteady. There's a cold glass suddenly in his hands, and then a warm, rough hand over his. The world sways unsteadily away from him and then back, those soft brown eyes the only point of stasis. He watches Maksym blearily, the pressure in his head pounding in time with his heart, his bones heavy as he drifts aimlessly forward - seeking the soft quiet he has always found - and will always find in Maksym's arms.

“Oh. Love. Not yet. Drink this for me–”

The instructions are bare, quiet, but still gentle - Maksym aware that every noise, every sound he makes now is too loud for Volodymyr, his hearing oversensitive; each syllable, every breath almost unbearable through the dull, thumping pain inhabiting his skull. Vova does as he is asked, leaving Maks breathless for a moment at such an open, implicit display of unwavering trust encapsulated in the quiet action; to drink from a glass he can hardly see, can only hope, assume it is benign. Something about it nestles into the crack in Maksym’s heart and he takes a shaky breath of his own.

Taking the empty glass and placing it to one side, Maks quietly eases Vova's legs up onto the mattress, his head down onto the pillow. The cotton against his cheek is smooth, cold - but not enough; he longs for the cool, perfect feeling of ice against his skull - the spreading numbness of before - the smooth tiles, pressed against them, begging them to swallow him up in the cold, the quiet. The world outside is too loud, too rough.

What are you doing? You need to get up, move - work.

He can hear the tread of Maks’ boots, horribly loud, but getting further away, leaving him behind. Silence and the looming sense of being left alone fills him, a shuddering fear sliding around his sore, aching head - tendrils of panic squeezing at his heart. Don’t leave me here, not now, not alone, please. I can bear the noise, I can stand it - the pain, anything. I don’t care, just - come back. Don’t leave me; not when - if someone comes; I can’t see, can’t move - the thoughts are entangled with the agony in his head, curling around one another viciously, settling at the back of his skull like some sort of leeching parasite. Face pressed into the pillow, eyes clamped shut, he flinches at the persistent torment, the unintentional movement of his body like a betrayal as another red-hot spike of pain drives through his skull.

A sudden rush of cold air blunts the escalating panic, diverts the thundering agony. The air smells like snow - blank and white; filling the room, his lungs with something piercingly sharp. After a wary moment or two, Vova welcomes it, a strange blissful counterpoint to the relentless pulsing ache in his head, behind his eyes. The light of the lamp dies suddenly, the grey behind his eyelids deepening to black.

Dark, now. Wonderfully cold. Quiet.

In the darkness, Maksym unties his boots, leaves them by the desk near the now open window; toes curling against the cool parquet floor as he tip-toes closer.

For Vova, just the noise of footsteps again, duller this time. The sound grates against his senses and a whimper slips out of him.

Then - silence, save for the rasp of his own breathing. There is the weight of another person on the edge of the bed, and something cold, almost unbearably cold on his forehead, over his eyes - the thudding, shrieking ache of his head stunned into silence. His next inhale is shaky, fingers twitching against the sheets, every atom of him straining blindly against the fat, swelling pain in his head, willing it to go. Maksym moves carefully, maintaining the slight pressure of one hand against the cold, damp compress on Vova’s forehead, his fingers slowly turning numb. Unsure if he can even feel it, he rubs his thumb lightly against the damp strands of hair, curling slightly over his forehead. Even with his face twisted with hurt, he seems younger, delicate almost.

Maksym sits with him in the darkness, the flat of his other palm against Vova's back, just beneath his t-shirt; the steady weight like a grounding anchor against his aching muscles. Maks can feel the coolness of his skin, the tension threaded through each quivering muscle. His thin t-shirt rides up with the movement, a vulnerable strip of skin just at his hip bones suddenly visible between his shirt and the waistband of his trousers. He lies curled on his side, facing the wall, cheek pressed into the pillow.

He seems lost in the gnawing darkness, the shadows slinking around the edges, keen to swallow him whole.

The hours pass in silence, the only movement in the small dark room is Maks, replacing the cold compress, filling the water glass, waiting for the dam to break.

[psyke-underground]

A close up of Psykés trains.

Such a nice train design, but I do like the rainbow colours of the original Schwarzkopf ones.

[lymtw]

Toji can't ignore the sounds of your moans and whimpers through the wall. He's sitting on the couch, in the living room, unable to do anything about it, because you're still mad at him, and he's frustrated as hell, because he's so painfully hard, that he can see his dick twitching against the front of his sweats. He refuses to take care of it himself when he knows you're only a room away. To his convenience, you're already in the mood—clearly—but to his inconvenience, you're punishing him. You're scattering his name into your moans to throw salt in the wound, to really make it unbearable, and truthfully, it's getting to him.

Toji reached his limit when he heard you let out a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of those cries you let out when you cum hard. He strides over to your shared bedroom, opening the door to reveal your naked lower body, and your tank top scrunched up over your chest. His breath hitches, the throbbing in his pants intensifying as he rakes his eyes over your frame and absorbs the entire sight of you.

"You're really gonna get yourself off to the thought of me, when i'm right outside?" His incredulous tone doesn't do a good job of hiding the desperation that led him to barge into the room where you're splayed out so indecently.

"Mhm..." you hum, blissfully. You release a heavy, satisfied sigh. "That's exactly what I just did, 'cause you're on a time out," you say, tugging your shirt back down and pulling up your underwear, before sitting up to search for your shorts. "Don't worry. I finished. I'm done torturing you."

He can't let it be over. This normally wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. From what he heard, it seems like you only came once.

"Baby, no," he almost whines. He's outwardly desperate for you, having gone way too long without being allowed to touch you intimately. "Let me. Please," he says, climbing onto the bed. His hands make contact with the skin of your bare legs and glide over the length of your shins, continuing their way up to part your thighs to make room for him to wedge himself between them.

"I did what you asked of me. Said I was sorry and repeated after you to call myself dumb." It was such a silly moment that made the storm in your mind subside for a minute or two.

Toji resists the urge to smile when he sees you suppressing the curl of your own lips. His hands go to your waist, not stopping there. The warmth of his palms travels up your edges, meeting the sides of your breasts and briefly palming the tops of them, in order to get to your shoulders. He grips your shoulders, using them as leverage to guide you back down to the bed. Focus is embedded into his features as he takes the thin material of your shirt between his rough fingertips and peels it off your skin until he reveals the gorgeous view of one of his favorite parts of your body.

Like a domestic cat, he lays his body on you, and plants his face between your breasts. It doesn't take long for him to begin appreciating your chest, pressing multiple slow kisses to your skin. He's basking in the softness you withheld from him.

"What else do you want from me, doll?"

You let out a small, quiet sigh, through your nose. You feel a little irritated with yourself for not even putting up a fight against his affection. You always say you're not going to let him touch you for a certain amount of time, as punishment for the dumb things he does, and yet somehow it always ends up this way—him nuzzling into your chest.

"I want you to stop being a jealous maniac," you say, the words coming out softer than you intended them to, as you welcome defeat and run your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

"Mm-mm, anything but that," he responds, muffled by your warm skin. His hands caress your body, rubbing your waist and massaging your hips in a manner that would induce relaxation under different circumstances. You can't let yourself fall into that comfort until you've talked things out.

"Toji, you flashed your gun at someone who mistook me for somebody else." You attempt to keep yourself composed in order to communicate the issue efficiently. There's no need to raise your voice when you have him right there, lying comfortably on your chest.

"Mhm, I did that," Toji confirms, before planting a soft kiss on the inner side of your right breast. "The dickwad must have been real blind if he had to get so close." He feels your chest rise with a deep inhale, then hears you let out the breath. With that, he knows you're still upset and he has to further elaborate on his actions. "He had his filthy paws on you and everything. I did what I thought was best to get him to fuck off."

You hum in mere acknowledgment. "Uh-huh, that's definitely the way to go about it. God forbid you verbalize your discomfort before threatening to use a bullet."

You feel a warm puff of air on your chest, similar to the sigh you let out, but less audible, and then a kiss directly between your breasts.

"I was right next to you, ma. He was looking at you in a way that he shouldn't have been. He looked at you the same way that I look at you. You don't need that from anyone else. And that stupid ass thing he said about supposedly feeling like he's seen you somewhere? He clearly said it to get a good look at you from up close."

"You really are insane, aren't you?" You ask, rhetorically, stilling the hand that's on the back of his head.

"Doll, I hate the idea of pulling the gun out in front of you. I don't ever wanna have to use it and scare you in the process, but he was actively trying to steal you from me. If he were just ogling you from afar, I might've acted differently, but he touched you. He fucking touched you. Who does shit like that?"

Toji can feel his blood boiling again, so he refocuses on your chest. He doesn't want to think about what happened anymore, when he's in his happy place, where he knows he belongs.

"Alright, Toji. Take a deep breath." You softened your voice to simmer down his emotions. You resumed the movement of your fingers carding through his hair, aiding him in calming down more.

He does as you say and releases a heavy breath. It's riddled with his discontented feelings. "You're supposed to be mine," he mumbles, before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

Toji needs reassurance, too. Him being an attractive, enormous, hulking man, has nothing to do with how secure he feels around you, his lover. It's easy to think that because he manages to turn heads wherever he goes, that he'll be fine when you get those same reactions, but the way you have him now, is proof that insecurity can reach even him. He needs to know that he's not going to lose you so easily, especially to someone as ridiculous as the man who managed to unsettle him.

You look down at him as he takes all the comfort he needs from your chest. "I'm all yours, Toji. You're the only one who will ever get a pass for that kind of psychotic behavior."

He hums, releasing your breast, before resting the side of his face down on your chest. "You make it sound like i'm toxic towards you."

Your chest jumps as you laugh, a gesture that makes Toji lift his gaze to look at you. Your expression managed to make him lighten up a little more.

"You're crazy, but I love you, regardless."

He groans, the sound cushioned by your soft skin. You're the one thing that holds up his sanity, yet somehow you're also the one who tests it by saying things like that to him.

"Let me have you," he says, his kisses beginning to trail up, towards your neck. "Please, let me have you, mama."

"Are you gonna keep threatening people when you get jealous?" You ask, your lips curling as be continues to kiss your delicate skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. "Like I said and you said," he speaks, into your neck, "you're mine. If people don't know it, i'll make sure they get it on the first go. There's no need to make mistakes."

You laugh. "Your possessiveness is intense."

"You're not a joke, to me," he says, looking at you. His expression is as serious as what he just said.

You grab the rolled up fabric of your shirt, with the intention of covering yourself. The ambience has gone more serious and it feels wrong to be so exposed in the moment.

"Don't cover yourself, yet. I want you, baby. Please." His knuckles graze your cheek, affectionately. Despite your chest being out on full display, his attention is centered on your face. He's reading your expression. You were laughing a few seconds ago and now you're as still as him.

"Be nice to me. I don't want you to be rough, this time." It's back to back gentleness with the way your voice reaches him and your smile manages to soothe the remaining sting he's feeling. It's like you're showing him the way you want him to handle you. "I'm yours, Toji. No amount of speed or aggression from your body against mine, will have an impact on the fact. Okay?"

He keeps his eyes on you for a couple more seconds, like he's letting your words sink in and fully envelop him. He repositions his hand, so that he's cupping your cheek, and a couple slow strokes of his thumb against your skin gave him the courage to lean down and kiss you. The second his lips meet yours, he wants more. Infinitely more. He's chasing kiss after kiss from you, utterly drunk on the feeling of your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. He'll consume you, at this point.

"Hm?" You hum, still awaiting his response.

"Got it, baby," he says, before connecting his lips to yours once more. He peppers the rest of your face with kisses, luring giggles from you at the barrage of affection.

This isn't the first time Toji has been revoked of his 'you privileges', and gotten them back, instantly. This has occurred many times in the years that you've been together. Going into a relationship with him, you never thought he'd be the jealous type, much less the type who would threaten someone's life over getting overly cozy with you. The first time he pulled something similar to this, it was a little frightening. You knew he kept a gun on him sometimes, but you figured it was strictly for life or death situations.

You were wrong.

Some weirdo was getting too comfortable with you, hand wrapped around your wrist and all. You clearly remember Toji being visibly bothered, because someone thought they could just swoop in and steal your focus from him. He watched for a minute or two as the man took in your beauty and complimented you on every aspect of your appearance. He really did his best to get you to follow him to his table, and though Toji thought the whole thing was a pathetic attempt, he couldn't help the feelings that began to bubble up as the man squeezed your arm. Toji did a dog whistle to grab the man's attention, and when he looked, he lifted his shirt, just enough to show the grip of his gun. Your stomach twisted and you felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The stranger just stood there for a second, looking at Toji, condescendingly, as if to insinuate that he knew he was bluffing, and when Toji reached for and grabbed ahold of the gun's handle, that same cocky man paled. He didn't even have to pull out the whole gun—the man had walked away by the time he had the grip in his hand— but you remained worried that he would notify someone about what happened, so you and Toji left.

To this day, Toji still scares people that way when he notices them invading your space in a manner that doesn't sit right with him. You're not scared anymore, when he does it, but the frustration of having to ditch wherever you are, in fear of being ratted out by whoever Toji threatened? It's still there, and you feel it every time. You know he does it out of love for you, but sometimes you wish he would take a second to talk to you, before he even thinks of hurting someone.

Toji has kissed your entire torso, by now. Your chest wasn't exempt from his attention, despite the amount of time he already spent on it. If anything, he refined the love he gave it with purposeful movement and significance towards every spot his lips brushed.

He nears your lower abdomen, wet kisses placed beneath your navel, going lower and lower until you can feel his breath being filtered through the front of your underwear. His hands go beneath the elastic band, cupping your hips without restriction as he kisses your clothed pelvis.

Your breathing picks up the slightest bit when his lips meet your slit through the thin layer. His tongue comes out and he does an experimental swipe of it against the fabric. You feel the space immediately heat up, from your arousal and from the warm wetness of his tongue, itself.

"Stay still for me, mama," he murmurs, kissing your inner thighs after spotting the quiver in them. "You nervous?" He asks, with a small curl of his lips.

"Of course, I am." You look into his eyes as you confirm it. You love him so dearly, that even after the years you've spent together, you still feel lightning coursing through you when he has you this way. This electric feeling doesn't prevent you from letting yourself enjoy what he gives you, nor does it hinder you from touching him and making him feel good. You don't become more hesitant towards him, because by now, you're well aware that your love for him coexists with butterflies. They reside in you, and are able to be lured out by him at any instant, despite your knowledge of the fact that he would gladly be someone's cause of death if they don't keep themselves in check around you.

"Love you," he says, kneading your hips as he leans in to press a few more warm kisses to your thinly veiled cunt. His eyes dart up to your face when you don't respond—he's a little lost on why you didn't say it back— until he sees how despite the way you just admitted to your nerves, he has you entirely at ease. You have a hand flat on the sheets, occasionally moving against the material beneath it, while your other hand rests on your stomach. Your chest is steady and your attention is on the ceiling, your expression serene—ethereally so.

His hands run down your hips, warm palms squeeze and feel up your thighs, gaining your eyes on him again. "You're not gonna say it back?" He asks, his voice deep enough to make the ache between your legs just that much more intense.

"You already know I do," you say, contrasting his demeanor with a giggle. He looks like a needy puppy with that glint that presents itself in his eyes.

"Mhm, doesn't mean I don't wanna hear it, again, or do you not love me, right now?"

You're caught by surprise with that one, a small, almost inaudible gasp, leaving you at the words. "I love you all the time, Toji. I love you now and I loved you earlier when I was pissed. It's not going away."

He's a little more impatient for you, now. His movement doesn't speed up, but his heartbeat is in his ears, and there's a tremble in his hands as he reaches for the elastic of your underwear. He pulls the garment down, wanting to smell and taste you more clearly. His cock jumps at the sight revealed. You're still so wet. He lets out a shuddered breath, now that your lower half is completely bared for him. His mouth comes closer and closer and his tongue comes out, making contact with your throbbing cunt for the first time.

"Toji." The sound is soft—unexaggerated—as his tongue laps at your warmth, tasting the sweet wetness that coats it. He could stay like this for hours, worshipping your entire body, while you touch him and gift him the prettiest sounds ever. He can't get enough of you, which is why when it looks like you're going to close your legs, he pins them down, entirely. His hands splay over your thighs and he keeps them there, because he isn't going to fight to give you the pleasure you deserve. He'll love on you until your body is begging him to stop, because he knows that your mouth can be misleading, at times.

He's taking it slow, just like you wanted him to. The most stimulation comes from him lightly sucking on your clit for brief moments at a time, just to hear your moans get the slightest bit louder. Every time he releases your sensitive pearl, he goes back to running his tongue through your drooling slit, the tip of the muscle nudging your clit, causing it to throb with need. Each graze of the wet warmth, makes you wonder if you should ask him to go faster, though you were the one who asked for this gentleness. You don't want to seem indecisive or come off as doubtful that he can make you cum this way. You know he can, but god, you want so much more. You feel like you're the one who's going insane with every flick of his tongue.

"That good, mama? Or do you want it slower?" He gives you a teasing smirk. Toji knows how you are. You say you want him to be soft and gentle with you, but when the time comes, you want more than what's given to you. You delve into greediness as seconds turn to minutes. You both have nowhere to be. Time is yours, and Toji intends to take advantage of that. He's going to fulfill your needs the way you want him to, but that doesn't mean he loses awareness of your little ticks. He feels the small twitches of your legs beneath his hands every time you feel his nose bump into your clit just before it gets hit by his tongue. He sees the way your hips sink into the mattress and your body quivers when they rise, again.

"G-Good. Don't go any slower," you respond, holding your voice as steady as possible.

"Mm... Faster?" He asks, his tone so calm yet sultry, that you can't tell if he's patronizing you. He doesn't miss the way light flashes, briefly, through your features. In an instant, you regain your composure. A simple hum is offered in response—a wordless brush off of his suggestion. The sound makes Toji smirk. How stubborn of you.

"I won't hold it against you," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease that joins your pelvis and your thigh, leaving an echoing feeling of need in your core. "Just say the word, ma." He presses more kisses to your skin, as if he's trying to persuade you to let him devour you.

"Mm-mm, this is good."

It's not what he's trying to get out of you, but he can keep going until you're hanging on by a measly thread.

He continues on with that same pace—licking, suckling, prodding—so gently, luring the cutest little mewls from you. It took a little longer, but eventually, your body started trembling with impending release.

"I'm gonna- Toji," you cry, tightening your fists around the sheets as he slowly circles his tongue over your clit, focusing on it entirely. Your moans grow needier and needier as you near the edge through such delicateness. The anticipation is killing him. He wants you to be louder. You wouldn't hate him for bringing you more pleasure, would you? It's a risk he's willing to take.

Without another doubt, he's messily making out with your cunt, causing more of your sweet nectar to drool out at a more rapid pace. Your breath hitches, a sharper rendition of his name cried out. Your hand reaches downward and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as he continues to ravage you. Your moans sound absolutely filthy. He doesn't detach his mouth from you for a single second. His hands finally release their pin on your thighs, allowing you to fully suffocate him when they shut around his head. His arms hook around your thighs, a harsh grip on them to keep you from scooting away from his relentless mouth when you cum. It's another strong, orgasm, that has you arching your back off the mattress and squirming as he continues devouring you through the intense sensation. Your hips roll in an attempt to get more of his mouth on you. Only when you start whimpering and attempting to twist out of his hold, does he ease up. He goes back to the original pace, soft kitten licks through your slit to lap up every drop of your sweetness, earning small twitches from your body, due to the sensitivity you feel.

You release the hold you have on his hair and relax your legs, unbending them and letting them fall comfortably on the bed. He finishes you off with a few kisses, thin strings of his saliva and your cum sticking to his lips, before snapping every time he loses contact with your cunt. His warm palms caress your thighs—a comforting gesture, as your sounds come to a halt and all that is heard is your breathing.

"You're so impatient," you playfully chide, a breathy laugh following.

"You wanted more," he responds, one more kiss placed on you before he licks his lips clean. "I'm really good at reading you."

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask, a teasing grin on your face.

"I know so," he responds. "Wouldn't it just be the worst if we've been together this long, and I didn't know almost everything about you, by now?" He repositions himself, now sitting on his knees to start ridding himself of his own clothes.

You manage a hum and a nod as you watch Toji pull off his shirt.

"Good thing that's not the case, and I do know basically everything about you. Down to the way your body reacts to me— the signals you create that let me know you're gonna cum all over my tongue, when your pretty mouth can't form words."

"So vulgar," you say, through flustered giggles.

"You can take it, mama," he teases, a smirk growing on his lips as you watch him pull off his sweats. His eyes stay on yours, as he kicks them off, letting them slide off the bed and onto the floor, before crawling back between your legs. You can feel his clothed hard-on pressing against your core as he takes your lips in his again. He's addicted to the feeling of your warm body against his.

His hands come down to cup your waist, his fingers molding into the soft flesh with every squeeze they offer. He pauses the make out, small breaths leaving him.

"Baby," he says, his voice almost a whisper, his lustfully darkened eyes narrowed on your starry ones. "I'm gonna kill the next person who hits on you in front of me." He goes back in for a few more quick kisses. "I'm not joking. I can't keep sparing them."

"Shh... All yours, Toji," you murmur, softly, pulling him back in to continue the flow of kisses. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, the other settles on his shoulder. You hear him groaning quietly into the kisses as he continues grinding his hips into yours.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, pausing his lips on yours once again. "I need you."

You laugh, a warm sound that just adds on to his desire to have you. "So, take me, baby. I'm ready for you."

He gives you one more peck, the slyest smirk playing on his lips as he watches you lean forward for another one, only to be met with nothing.

"Ass," you grumble, playfully shoving his chest.

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound as he sits back to remove his boxers. He's not even ashamed of the mess of precum that accumulated in them. If anything, he's surprised he was able to hold in his load this entire time. Pleasantly surprised, because every drop will go to you, as always.

One minute you're sitting up to fully remove your shirt, pulling it up over your head, the next, in what seems like a flash, you're pushed back onto the bed, hands pinned above your head.

You giggle, looking up at him with a lingering smile. "Gentle."

"Mhm," he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck. "So gentle." Two misleading words that don't prepare you for the sensation of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck.

Your bubbly laughter homes into his ears when his tongue runs over the indentations, luring a huff of a laugh from him.

You feel his cock run through your slick folds, his hips moving back and forth, slowly. Quiet breaths fill the silence that takes over the intimate moment. Toji runs his length through your slit one more time, before finally pushing his tip in. You gasp, feeling his cock begin to drive into you.

"F-Fuck, baby, let me touch you."

"In a minute." He sounds so calm and collected, but you can feel the grip he has on your wrists tighten and the bluntness of his nails pressing into your skin.

"No. Please."

"In a minute," he repeats.

"Pretty please?"

"You're so conflicting, mama. Love that you're begging, but at the same time, you're not listening." His hips draw back and thrust right back into you, his cock filling you up entirely, again.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Please, Toji," you whine.

Toji hums dismissively and picks up a rhythm that manages to get you to stop thinking about your pinned wrists. He lures soft, little moans out of you, listening closely as he plants warm, wet kisses on the side of your face, from your temple to your jaw.

"Just let me be good to you, baby. Alright?"

You hum, nodding your head.

"Yes?"

"Please, yes."

His thrusts become even more precise as he focuses on bringing pleasure to both of you, deep groans and grunts blending together with your higher pitched moans. A few minutes pass and you feel the pressure on your arms ease up, your hands free to roam without restriction. The first thing you do is cup his jaw and bring him in for breathy kisses. You keep your hands on his face and he lets you turn his head in every which way to cover him with kisses. Your affection is intoxicating, and he can't get enough of it. He lets out a breathy laugh when you practically have a make out session with the scar on his lips, your melodic sounds of pleasure released against the strike as he continues to fuck into you. The last kiss you leave on the cicatrix is a big one. One that makes the obnoxious kissy sound and everything. He swipes his tongue over his scar, as if he's trying to catch remnants of the sugar you coated it with.

"Love you," you say, eyes darting over his handsome features and the lovestruck expression they create. You feel the way his hips stutter against you, his abs tensing with restraint before he recomposes himself. You glide your hands up and down his arms and repeat yourself for him. "Love you so much, Toji. I'm yours."

"Fuck— I fucking love you. You're all mine. My baby." He mutters more inaudible curses under his breath, his grip on your waist getting harsher and his thrusts growing quicker, with every sweet confirmation you offer. You whimper, nails digging into his biceps as you withstand the feeling of his cock relentlessly brushing that spot within you that makes you melt beneath him.

"Oh fuck, i'm close." He groans, feeling the way your walls spasm around him at the words. "Yeahhh, you want it, huh, baby? Want my cum?"

A shaky breath leaves you, your face observed up close and personal by Toji, through lust-brimmed, enamored, obsessed eyes. You squirm under all of him— his zoned in attention on you, his touch, his hot, tacky skin, his cock buried inside you—dragging in and out of your soft walls, in a manner that has your toes curling to the brink of actual pain. His fingers find your clit and rub it in rapid circular motions, causing your body to jolt at the sudden intensity of the enhanced pleasure.

You look up at him with your sparkling eyes. "Please... P-Please, Toji? I want it. Want you," you utter, as he brings you closer to your own orgasm.

"Fuck, okay. Okay, baby, gonna give it all to you." His hips pick up their pace a little more and he buries his face into your neck. You can hear the string of grunts and shuddered breaths that pair with his unraveling, right beneath your ear. Deep moans and pants flow past his lips, and his nails begin to leave crescent shapes on your sides. You feel his hot breath on your neck, the open mouthed puffs of air accompanied by the lewd sounds of him filling you with his warm, creamy cum. As he continues rutting into you, riding out every second of his orgasm and then some to get every last drop of his cum into you, he bites your delicate skin, the placement only a few centimeters above where he bit you the first time. He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, before he loosens his bite, the gesture transitioning to sloppy kisses over the wet, saliva-coated indentations.

"Cum, doll," Toji mutters, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him when his fingers relocate your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head sinks back into the pillow, allowing him to drag his kisses up the column of your neck, to feel the vibration of your sounds beneath his lips. Your nails go to his shoulders, dragging across the toned area of muscles, surely leaving behind some scratches. You cry out in utter bliss, your force of an orgasm echoing through your entire being. "There you go, mama," Toji purrs, in response to your body releasing the tension that came with the intensity of your pleasure. You tremble, your small, rapid whimpers and breaths evolving into full blown, unholy moans. "So, so pretty," he drawls out, engraving yet another one of your euphoric expressions into his memory. His fingers leave your clit, and his hips slow down to the point of merely grinding into you, to lure those final little whines out, before stilling entirely.

You shut your eyes to focus on calming your heaving chest for a few seconds, and when you open them again, you have the prettiest pair of green eyes staring down at you. You give Toji a lazy smile and a laugh, a sight that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His heart races as he absorbs the visuals of your post-orgasm haze. Your luminous eyes devour him, that little satisfied smirk on your face is everything— god, he loves that you laugh even more at the way he can't stop staring at you.

Just like that, Toji is reminded of what got this sight revoked from him in the first place. He still doesn't feel like he's in the wrong for wanting to murder anyone who has far from just friendly intentions with you, but as you caress his face and hold his gaze with that tender look in your eyes, his desire to kill those who openly lust after you, becomes entirely justified in his mind. He's lost all reason to hold back. There's no longer any part of him that would feel remorse or guilt, even if you can't look him in the eyes for days after the matter. He'll grovel as much as he has to, to get you to give him your eyes, again. You'll just have to agree to disagree on this, because yes, you come home to him, you sleep in the same bed as him, you kiss and hold him, the body concealed by your clothes is a secret between you and him, you get tangled up in sheets with him and the lot of it— but he can't risk losing you to someone who's possibly better than him and searching for all the exact things you have to offer. You're for him, as he is for you.

Toji doesn't care how clingy he appears when you finish getting cleaned up and ready for bed. You carelessly toss yourself onto the mattress and pull the blanket over your body while you wait for Toji, who took the steps and walked around the bed to make it to his side. He finds your body beneath the covers and immediately rolls on top of you, adhering himself to you, again. His head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your body.

You're already prepared to give him the intimate aftercare that comes with days like this. You don't mind that he's heavy and that he's crushing you or that he's taking up all your space, again, after having been so close to you a little while ago. You'll do this as many times as you need to for him to understand that he's wanted and loved by you.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, and murmur a quiet 'love you'. Your fingers run through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching the back of his head, while your other hand rubs his back. You feel the extra warm skin of his shoulders, where you paid no mind to the pressure your nails applied on it, earlier.

"Does that hurt?" You ask, lightly tracing a couple of the mildly inflamed lines. He hums in denial, but you let up, anyway, and continue to just rub his back.

He groans quietly at your soothing touch, nuzzling further into you. "I'm yours, too, ma. All yours," he mumbles. "I don't want anyone else and I don't wanna see you with anyone else."

You smile softly at his admission. "You're more than enough for me, Toji. There's no one I want more than you— no, there's no one I want other than you," you correct. "You know how much I love you?"

"Mm... How much?" He asks, waiting for you to give him a number or even just an elongated 'so much', but instead, you surprise him with:

"I wouldn't be able to tell you."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you want something accurate, I'll never shut up."

"Good thing I like when you talk my ear off. You wanna give me an inaccurate idea of how much?"

You hum like you're in thought, a giggle following when he pinches your waist, encouraging you to tell him. "I love you a lot, Toji. So much more than I will ever be able to say or show. We would have to conjoin our minds for you to understand exactly how much I love you, but even then, once our minds separate, your estimate will be entirely off again."

He lifts his head off your chest, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight seeping through the spaces between the curtains is the only source of light that allows him to get a mediocre view of you. "That's inaccurate?" He asks, looking at you with clear disbelief when his eyes finally adjust. You nod, smiling through the warmth that spread on your cheeks. "Now, I wanna know how much you love me, with complete accuracy. I have all the time in the world to listen to you, baby. Just keep talking to me." He presses a kiss to your cheek before lying back down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, again.

You hugged him as tight as you could for a few seconds. The sound of you straining yourself made him laugh, because not only did he not let out a single groan, but you tired yourself out even more. You rested your arms on his back and just shut your eyes. It was the warmth and weight of his body on you, the feeling of his arms keeping you firmly against him, the security, that managed to lull you to sleep. Toji dozing off was simpler than that, because all he needs to be able to sleep soundly, is for you to be around.

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[sceletaflores]

HEAVY METAL LOVER!

pair: logan howlett x bartender!reader wc: 4.2k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, drinking, swearing, motorcycle rides, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering (fem!receiving), creampie, wolverine's hairy tits, the claws show up ofc, porn with plot, no use of y/n. author’s note: watched deadpool & wolverine twice in theaters, started rewatching the x-men movies, pondered many different thoughts, sat down and wrote this. i need him to breed me. title from lady gaga's 'heavy metal lover' cause it's literally his song.

the wolverine is a regular at your bar…

You're shining glasses behind the bar when you hear it, the gruff sound of Logan’s voice turning away yet another girl that worked up the courage to come up to him. It’s his third rejection of the night, not that you were counting.

You were, you always do. You pay more attention to that side of the bar than you normally would when he’s here, which is nearly everyday for the past three weeks. He's not like any of your other regulars. He's almost always alone, and he never talks to you except when he calls for another drink. 

The only reason you even know his real name at all is because Wade told you one of the nights he tagged along, leaning his elbows on the bar to whisper over the sugared rim of his "Piña Colada. Extra creamy please, you know how I like it..." like he was telling you a secret.

"Don't let him hurt your feels honey bunch. That's just classic Logan for you, a man of few words. Huge case of blue balls by the way." 

You remember the way he let the obvious innuendo hang in the air, the knowing look he gave you as he spun the little paper umbrella floating in his drink. You didn’t think you were being that obvious, that someone as socially inept as Wade was able to pick up on the way your eyes would linger a little too long on the broad width of Logan’s shoulders, on the way his arms would strain against the fabric of his flannels. 

You’d seen him on the news, thick corded muscles all wrapped in blue and yellow leather. It haunted you for days, playing in your mind on a constant loop of sweaty biceps until you finally gave in and pulled out your favorite vibrator. 

Even with that, there’s just something about the jeans and flannels he wears outside of the suit that make you want to jump over the bar and drop down to your knees right in front of him. Your mouth open wide and waiting.

The dull ‘thunk’ of Logan placing his empty glass on the bartop grabs your attention, two quick raps of his knuckles against the wood ripping you from your thoughts. “Another,” he says briskly, not looking away from the peeling backsplash on the wall behind you.

You usually snapped at men who’d bark orders at you, but The Wolverine isn’t just any man. He's certainly the only man you'd ever take orders from willingly, happily.

You grin, tossing your towel over your shoulder as you grab the whiskey bottle off the shelf and slide over to him, tipping the amber colored bottle over to start refilling his glass. “That’s the third one tonight,” you say casually, casting your eyes over his shoulder to the girl from before retreating back to her friends. “I take it you don’t come here looking for company?”

Logan’s eyes flick to yours, it’s the first time he’s looked at you all night. You look back, lips pulled into a small smile as more whiskey than you’d usually pour splashes against the sides of his glass. The music playing from the speakers fades into a dull hum around you.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, a flash of something you can't quite read passing through his eyes before he’s looking away again. “Not the kind you’re thinking of,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that has something warm zinging up your spine.

You set the bottle down next to him, brow piqued in curiosity. “And what kind is that?”

He doesn't respond right away, just raises the now full glass to his lips to take a slow sip. You almost think he’s going to ignore you again, but then he speaks, “You ask everyone that comes in here personal questions, bub?” 

There’s the barest hint of amusement lacing his words that has you biting your bottom lip to try and contain the absolute giddiness blooming in your chest. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you before. Encouraged, you step in a little closer, hoping to draw him out further.

“Only the ones with their asses practically fused to my stools,” you shrug, a playful glint sparkling in your eyes. “So what is it, you got some poor wife you leave at home every time you come here? Because the ‘tall, dark, and kind of morally ambiguous’ thing is obviously working for you.”

Logan turns his eyes to you again, his brow raised in amusement. You’re close enough that you can see the way his lips turn up at the corners. He seems to consider your question, gaze slowly trailing along your face before flicking back to your eyes. "No wife," he replies, the words slow and deliberate. "No home to leave her at either.”

His response hangs in the air between you, heavier than you anticipated. You let out a soft breath, lips parting ever so slightly. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze settling over you, leaving your whole body warm and tingly. The heat swirling deep in your gut slipping down to pool wet and sticky in your panties. Logan’s eyes blink shut for just a second, the bridge of his nose twitching lightly.

You almost can’t believe this is really happening, that the angry guy at the end of your bar you’ve seen turn away pretty girl after pretty girl is flirting with you. It makes you feel dizzy with power, like you could do anything, but it’s also one of the most intimidating things you’ve ever experienced. You didn’t realize what it meant to be the center of Logan’s attention until now, but you refuse to back down.

 He gives an inch, so you take a mile.

Your grin widens as you lean your elbows on the bar, resting your chin on the heels of your hands. Logan doesn’t react to you invading his space, just keeps his eyes on you with a passive look on his face, but you don’t miss the way his gaze darts down to the low cut of your top.

“So…” you say slowly, voice dipping into a softer more intimate tone, “that means you’re free later tonight?” You tilt your head to the side coyly, allowing your hair to cascade over your shoulder, the movement drawing his gaze.

Logan’s eyes widen the tiniest bit, a surprised huff leaving his lips. He raises his glass, taking another long drink. Your eyes trace the sharp line of his jaw to where his adam’s apple bobs enticingly as he swallows. Your lips tingle with the need to mark up the tan column of his throat, to sink your teeth in the skin there, to taste.

The neckline of his undershirt dips low enough that you can see the dark hair scattered across his chest, dog tags dangling from a chain around his neck to sit in the center.

You drag your eyes back up to his face, flushing when you see that he's already looking at you over the rim of his drink. He sets his half drained glass down, a skeptical look on his face. “How old are you, kid?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh, dropping your palms to lay flat on the bartop. If that makes your top dip a little lower to flash more of your cleavage in Logan’s eyeline, then that’s just a bonus. “Old enough to be here,” you reply after a short pause, gazing up at him from under your lashes, “Old enough to know what I want.”

Logan’s eyes darken, the warm brown of them seeming deeper and even more intense than before. The dim overhead lights cast shadows across his rugged features, highlighting the scruff on his jaw. You can’t help but imagine the rough scratch of it brushing up against your inner thighs.

Logan pushes his glass away, leaning in with a soft grunt, his eyes drop to your lips. You suck in a shocked breath, your whole body lighting up at being so close to him. Your heart is racing in your chest, a quick ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum that echoes in your ears.

His lips turn up in a sly grin, the sharp canines of his teeth on display. “Is that so?” He asks, voice going all husky like gravel and honey. He meets your eyes and you swear you can see the sparks going off in the air between you, everything else in the bar completely fizzling out as his breath mingles with yours. “Careful what you wish for,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. “You might just get it.”

Your lips curve into a mischievous smile, the heat between you palpable. “I’m counting on it,” you reply, your voice dripping with promise. It takes everything in you to straighten up and pull away from Logan, stepping back with the forgotten bottle in your hand. “My shift ends at eleven,” you say with a small shrug, jerking your head to a door across the room, “staff leaves through the alley door.” 

It’s a clear invitation, one that Logan easily picks up on. His hungry gaze follows every move you make as you shelf the whiskey.

Before he can say anything, someone calls you from across the bar, shaking their empty glass impatiently. You throw him one last smile over your shoulder, mouthing ‘eleven‘ again with a quick nod of your head. You aren’t sure if it’s supposed to reassure you or him.

Logan smirks nonetheless, standing from the bar before draining the rest of his drink and throwing a few bills down. The air crackles as you watch him make his way towards the exit, eyes lingering on the way his jeans hug the thick muscles of his legs before someone is snapping their fingers at you to serve them.

The rest of your shift drags by, but the excitement and hope swirling in your stomach doesn’t fade. You’re practically thrumming with excitement by the time eleven rolls around, anticipation coursing through your veins as you clock out and grab your bag from your locker.

You pull the door to the alley open, the heavy metal creaking with the swing. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you step outside, eyes eagerly searching the space in search of Logan. The light mounted above the door shines around you, but you don’t see him anywhere. 

Just as disappointment starts to settle in your chest, you hear a loud rumble coming from the down the street. A bright light shines across the road as it gets closer and closer until there’s a motorcycle pulled up against the alley’s opening.

Logan kicks the bike’s stand down, leaning over to hold out a helmet in offering. “You coming or not?” he calls out, voice deep and teasing, “I’m not known for my patience.”

You can’t help but laugh, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness bubbling up inside you. With a confident stride, you walk toward him, the loud growl of the bike reverberates through your body like thunder with every step. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?” 

You take the helmet from his hand, but he doesn't let go right away, making your fingers brush against his in a way that sends a shiver up your arm. You meet his gaze, the smirk on his lips matching the dangerous glint in his eyes.

He drops his hand down to the bike’s handle, jerking his head back to the empty space behind him. “Hop on.”

You straddle the bike, the leather seat warm from the rumbling engine beneath you. You give Logan your address as you slip the helmet on. His body is warm and solid against your front, you can’t help but press a little closer, your hands falling to rest on his waist. The leather of his jacket is smooth under your fingertips.

Logan turns his head to the side, the street lights shine along the side of his face in a warm yellow glow. “Hang on,” he says, voice barely audible over the roar of the bike’s engine starting up.

The sudden rush of wind as he pulls off paired with the thrillingly intense vibration of the engine revving under you is exhilarating. You wrap your arms tight around his waist, fingers digging in slightly as you lean into the curve of his body. 

The city blurs into a whirlwind of colorful lights as Logan navigates the streets with a confident ease. The cool night air whips past you, every turn and acceleration pumping more adrenaline through your veins. You cling to Logan’s waist like it’s a lifeline– there’s a sense of freedom and excitement that comes with being on the bike, but you think the real thrill is being pressed against him like this, feeling the power of his strength under you.

The ride seems like it takes both hours and seconds all at once when Logan pulls up to your house's gate. He kills the engine, the sudden silence a stark contrast from the roaring bike. Your heart pounds in your chest, pulse thumping as you slide the helmet off.

Logan takes it from your hands, eyes scanning over your house. “Nice place,” he comments casually, swinging his leg over the bike to stand next to you. 

"Thanks," you say, your voice a tad breathless. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as you dig for your keys in your bag, nerves finally starting to set in. The air is cold against your flushed skin, and you’re hyper aware of Logan’s presence behind you as you unlock the gate and push it open.

He doesn’t touch you as the two of you walk up the steps to your house, infuriatingly keeping his distance with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

Your legs shake with every step, you can’t tell if it’s left over adrenaline from the ride or the building anticipation for the ride you know is waiting for you beyond your front door. Your hands tremble as you fumble with the lock, opening the door and stepping into the darkness of your living room. 

You’re barely a foot inside before a pair of strong hands pull you backwards, getting whirled around by your waist until your back hits your closed front door mute thud. You don’t have any time to react before Logan’s crowding up against you, his body a solid wall of muscle pressing you hard against the door. His lips crash into yours in a hungry kiss, you can taste the whiskey from earlier sharp and smoky on his tongue.

You respond eagerly, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down even closer. Logan’s hands roam over your body rough and possessive, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other grips your waist, pulling you even closer. His hands leave a trail of fire in their wake, your skin tingling with every brush of his fingers. You can feel the raw power in his touch, a barely there restrained strength that has your heart racing even faster. 

“I could fucking smell you,” he growls agasint your neck, digging his sharp teeth into your collarbone meanly. You can't help but let out a soft moan, your head falling back against the door to give him better access. The rough stubble on his jaw scrapes deliciously against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Could smell how goddamn wet you got, back at the bar.”

His hand slips under the waistband of your jeans, sliding down the front of your panties to brush against your clit. Your mouth drops open with a soft moan, your slick lips still tingling. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea how hard it was not to bend you over, to not rip these things off and fuck you over the bar?” he asks roughly, lips brushing against your skin with every word. “Wanted to take you right, make everyone watch while I made you scream.”

Your breath hitches at his words, a wave of pleasure crashing through you. The rough skin of his fingertips press more firmly against your clit, drawing a broken moan from your lips. “Logan,” you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.Your hands claw at his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you try to ground yourself. 

His lips capture yours again in a bruising kiss, sliding two thick fingers into you with a rough thrust. “Atta girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, dragging his tongue across your bottom slip. “That’s it, say my name,” he growls, swallowing your moans as his fingers pump into you with an unrelenting pace. Your walls clench around him, a needy whine escaping your throat as he begins to fuck his fingers in and out of your wet cunt. 

The coil of pleasure deep in your stomach tightens with every thrust of his fingers, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. You can feel the pressure start to build, like a dam threatening to burst, but this isn’t how you want to come. You break the kiss, a thin thread of saliva connecting your lips before it thins and breaks. “Wait,” you say breathlessly, hand slipping down to grip his forearm tightly, “I want to come with you inside me.”

Logan growls, a deep, primal sound that you can feel rumble deep in his chest where it’s pressed against yours. “Bedroom,” he demands, hands dropping to the back of your thighs and lifting. 

You wrap your legs around his waist with a quiet squeal, attacking the skin of his neck with your teeth as he walks the two of you down the dark hallway. “First door on the right,” you whisper, dragging your tongue along the column of his throat. You can feel the thick length of his cock straining against his jeans press into your hip. He sucks in a sharp breath as you roll your hips down, sliding the damp fabric of your clothed cunt over him.

Logan kicks the door open with a force that has it slamming against the wall, the sound barely registering in your lust-addled brain. Logan dumps you on the bed, the force of it bouncing you on the mattress. He rips his white undershirt over his head and drops to his knees in front of you, big hands coming up to grip the waistband of your jeans.

The muscles in his arms don’t even flex as he rips your shorts down the middle, denim and along with lace panties tearing like tissue paper in his hands and falling to the floor in tattered pieces. You gasp at the cold air hitting your hot, aching cunt. 

Logan’s hands run up and down the bare skin of your calves, eyes glued to the soaked skin of your inner thighs. Your thighs start to tremble under his gaze, your patience starting to wear thin. Logan drags his eyes back to you, taking in the pleading look on your face. He smirks, wordlessly rising to his feet to pop open the button of his jeans.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his fly, eyes glued to the way he starts to push them down his legs just enough that they fall to pool around his ankles. Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide at the sight of him.

He’s so big, so thick and heavy that his cock hangs hard between his hairy thighs instead of slapping up against his stomach. There’s a thick drop of pre-cum leaking from the tip, dripping down a thick vein running along the side.

Your mouth waters with want, the want to bury your nose in the dark thatch of hair surrounding the base, the want to have him fuck your throat raw and red. You can almost feel the ache in your jaw. 

As much as you want to get him in your mouth, you want him inside you even more.

“Get your ass over here,” you demand breathlessly, tearing your shirt off your head in one swift motion. Logan smirks, stepping out of his jeans and making his way across the room. His dog tags jingle with every step, your cunt clenches weakly.

He stalks up the mattress like a predator, eyes ablaze as a cocky smirk plays on his lips. Your legs fall open unconsciously, thighs spreading wide to make enough room for his hips to slot against yours.

You gasp at the thick head of his cock sliding through your wet folds, your body arching off the bed. The sensation is electric, shooting through you like a live wire. "Logan," you breathe, your voice barely more than a whimper. "Please..."

"Please what?" he asks, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "You gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart."

Your cheeks flush hot, but the need burning inside you is stronger than any embarrassment. "I want you," you admit, your voice trembling with desire. "I want you to fuck me, Logan."

His growl is low and feral, his fingers teasing you relentlessly as he presses his forehead to yours. "That's a good girl," he rumbles, his breath hot against your lips as he sinks into the tight heat of your cunt in a single thrust. 

The pace he sets is unrelenting, one hand braced on the pillow next to your head while the other grips your bed’s frame for better leverage to fuck down into you. The sting of his cock splitting your cunt open has your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. His dog tags hang from his neck, swinging like a pendulum as he starts to thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grates out, brows furrowed in pleasure. His hips speed up, barely pulling out halfway before he plunges back into you. The bed squeaks under you, slamming up against the wall as Logan fucks you.

It’s like Logan surrounds every inch of you, strong arms caged around your head while his body covers yours, metal bonded bones pressing you down into the mattress so there’s nothing you can do but take it. You know that he’s ruined every other man in the world for you as the heavy snap of his hips pounds against the skin of your ass hard enough to bruise. The thick muscles of chest bounces as he moves, the coarse hair scraping against your sensitive nipples.

The head of his cock pounds the soft spot inside of you that has your eyes fluttering closed, mind going hazy as heat starts to pool at the base of your spine.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you beg brokenly, tears sting the corners of your eyes. “God! I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come–”

“Come on baby,” Logan goads, dropping down to his fore arm so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck, “Give it to me, come on this cock, show me how much you fucking love it,”

The stinging bite of his sharp canines scraping the fluttering pulse of your neck makes you wail, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave long red welts that heal as you go. Your cunt clenches around the pulsing length of his cock, greedily milking him as you come in a rush of wetness around his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grits out, his hips faltering. It’s not by much, but just enough for you to notice. The rhythmic smack smack smack of skin stuttering as his breath comes out in fast pants against the sweaty skin of your neck. His cock jerks inside you fiercely, his heavy balls tightening as he gets closer to the edge. You can hear the metal frame of your bed creaking warningly under his grip.

“Come in me,” you beg breathlessly, tightening your ankles around his waist. “Please, Logan I need it–”

Logan lets out a feral growl as his hand drops from your headboard, the sharp metallic sound of his claws unsheathing rings out above you before he slams his fist into the mattress next to your head. He floods your insides, pumping you full of his come as he grunts like a beast on top of you. He gives a few more weak thrusts of his hips, letting the two of you ride out your highs before he finally stills.

You hear the quiet snikt of his claws retracting from your mattress and back into between his knuckles before Logan collapses on top of you, arms braced on either side of your head to take most of his weight. His breath puffs raggedly over the skin of your shoulder, his spent cock still snug in your sore cunt. 

“You owe me a new mattress,” you say breathlessly, digging the heels of your feet into his lower back sharply. 

Logan chuckles into your neck, tipping his head up to look at you with dark eyes. His lips curl into a smirk as he rolls his hips, his still hard cock dragging along the sensitive walls of your cunt makes you gasp. “Yeah?” he asks, low and velvety. His eyes flick to the three holes punched through your sheets.

“You can add it to my tab,” he says with another stronger roll of his hips, “We’re not done here.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n! the actual biggest shout out to @ebodebo for beta reading and listening to my non-stop rambling and horny thoughts about this man. she's a true solider because i have been so annoying about this. mwah mwah mwah.

[itgetzweird08]

“You shouldn’t be up this late”

Bakugo’s voice whispered, filling the silence in the dorm kitchen. He was right, and usually you weren’t. You valued your sleep, often being one of the first in the class to call it a night. But tonight was different. Your thoughts, your heart, were restless. Despite following your nighttime routine, which was curated specifically to help you wind down and rest, you still found yourself tossing and turning. Not even your ocean sounds could help you drift to sleep. Thats why when Bakugo spoke, you sighed heavily and let your shoulders droop.

“Yeah. I know.”

He took a few steps toward you, leaning against the countertop. “So what’s got you awake?” You shrugged at him, watching the water in the electric kettle begin to form small bubbles. “Dunno…just can’t sleep I guess.” You looked over to him, taking soft note of his tired eyes and disheveled hair. “And you? You aren’t usually awake at this time either.” He shrugged right back at you. “Dunno…can’t sleep I guess” he echoed your words, and it made you smile just a bit.

You both knew why the other was awake, or at least you both had some inkling. Between how the ambush attack played out and Midoriya running away, neither of you have had time to really process all of what has gone on. You haven’t had time to think about how your lives had been flipped one eighty. But since Midoriya was back safe and sound, and there was no real information on the League or their next move, everything was at a standstill. That meant your brain was finally coming up to speed on what had gone on recently…and it was overwhelming. It felt like your mind was in over drive, thinking so many thoughts at once that it was causing you to lose sleep.

“…There’s a lot of water in this kettle. Would you like some tea?” Bakugo didn’t answer, just walked over to the mug cabinet and grabbed both of your designated mugs. Yours had your hero insignia, and he had his. It was Nezu’s Christmas gift for all of the hero course students. Bakugo opened the tea drawer, grabbing you each a packet of sleepytime zen tea before walking back over to you. You worked in silence then, enjoying each other’s company as you made your own cups.

Your relationship with Bakugo was unique. You admired him, even when he was a bit of an asshole at the beginning of the school year. You’ve enjoyed watching him grow and working beside him as a teammate. You were inspired by his tenacity and drive. You liked how smart and witty he was, and how he could be funny even when he didn’t realize it. It also didn’t hurt that he was actually pretty cute. And all of the same things went for you in his eyes. He admired your kindness and your courage. He was inspired by the way you had such a big heart but you were no push over, standing up to him when he got too rough with his words or during training. In his eyes, it was like you were one of the only people to give him a chance, getting to know him past his rough exterior. You two had gotten closer during the year, training and studying together sometimes. You began to sit next to him for lunch, stealing small pieces of chicken from his plate while he stole beef from yours. You were the only one with that privilege. Eventually, you became this unlabeled, unspoken thing. You didn’t have to confess your feelings because he knew, and you knew how he felt about you even if he’s never admitted it.

You softly sipped your tea, allowing the warm liquid to run down your throat and causing you to sigh. He stirred his own cup, watching the spoon go around and around. Technically, there was nothing else for you two to do in the kitchen. Technically, you could’ve parted ways right here and drank your own cups in your rooms. But you couldn’t bear to leave him. Deep down, you both didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Bakugo?” He looked up as you said his name. “Could I sleep over in your room tonight? I don’t think I want to be alone”

All he did was scoff, pick up his mug and began walking towards the staircase. When he realized you weren’t following, he scowled and turned to look at you.

“Let’s go brat. I’m missing out on my beauty sleep”

Part two

—————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[screampied]

sukuna never says “i love you.”

to him, the words are meaningless. he’s been alive for thousands and thousands of years, of course he knows what it means. he’s not stupid, but for some reason—every time it comes out of your little human mouth, his heart aches. you say it so sweetly with the cheekiest grin on your face, not a single care in the world. he hated it. three words, eight letters of pure rubbish. at least, that’s what he thinks to himself. for sukuna, he expresses his love in a different way.

physical touch. flicking your forehead, teasing you, saying things he’d never say to you while you were awake. that was his version of love, he didn’t need those stupid, stupid words. or did he?

“love you, ‘kuna,” you’d pepper another kiss against his cheek. he tchs, the audacity for you to do something so embarrassing. he never says it back but you know deep down he’s got to feel at least something in that cold heart of his. he just has to, after all you did steal his heart in a way. and he stole yours. your eyes always had a glinting sparkle whenever those words would come out and he hated it. his response to you saying you loved him would always be the same.

“yeah yeah,” he gruffs. or a simple, “i know..”

but— there’d be a time where he’d regret not saying it back. a cold, cruel time where it’s just you and him, no one else. except, it would really just be him.

sukuna had a hard time at expression his feelings. it’s not like he hated you—despite his rough, barbarous persona.

he didn’t hate you but he did. it was complicated. it was a struggle trying to put it into words. all he knew was that he loathed how soft you made him, he noticed his behavior would change around you overtime. sukuna’s voice was get more gentle, his shoulders would relax, and he’d always finding himself flicking your forehead for some strange reason. it’s annoying,

you’re annoying.

the feeling was love though, it had to be.

had to be,

so the moment comes where he regrets not saying it back.

it’s something he’d continuously beat himself up over for. because now, here you are, laid all out near the ground in his arms. all four of his arms held you in a tight, cradling embrace and he’s got an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. sukuna’s scarlet red irises were blown and fearfully dilated. his thin nostrils flared up and his slit brows contort in panic and confusion.

sukuna ryomen was scared.

“brat. get up.” he murmurs, three simple words was all he said to you. three simple words but you could barely even hear them.

all you heard was a brief inaudible mumble. you saw his lips moving but barely any sound came out. your body felt crushed, the pain was excruciating. your limbs, they felt like they were on fire. getting up was the last thing on your mind and you’ve probably sone the most careless thing imaginable.

you took a hit for sukuna, a deadly hit that was powerful enough to cost you your life. it’s funny though—all the talk of seeing your life flash before your eyes, and now, being snatched into the inevitable end, you were starting to really see it.

“get up,” he repeats, and this time, a single tear falls right onto your cheek. you meet sukuna’s gaze. the king of curses was a mere mess right before your eyes. he was like this for just you. teary eyed and sniffling, he can’t stand this pain.

you’re being held in his lap and not once does his eyes leave yours. sukuna takes a while to speak again and it’s as if he’s carefully thinking of what to say. time was precious right now, but he didn’t wanna think about anything. his focus was solely on you, his favorite little human.

“can you hear me? say something.”

“you .. you’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning too much, ‘kuna.” you hum, a weak finger stroking against his cheek.

archons, for whatever reason, that little comment brought a smile to his face. you were so annoying to him and yet, he wouldn’t wanna be in anyone else’s presence. everything hurt though,

your body felt scorchingly hot, your pulse remains to ring through your ears and you were wheezing a bit. “hey, hey,” he watches as you try to cling onto his hand. sukuna didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say - all he did do though, was hold you. it was the least thing he could do. your hand was so small compared to his, his long fingernails gently tickling against your skin.

he didn’t have it in him to scold you for trying to protect him. as fragile of a being you knew you were, you did it anyway. you risked your life for him. sukuna let his guard down and you jumped right in the way without a second thought for yourself. that’s what love was, his heart bleeds at the recent flashback before a shaky breath leaves his lips. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. you can’t leave me like this, please.”

“i’m not l- leaving.” you reply, your voice weak and frail. sukuna knew that was a lie. the more you stared at him, how the look of worry on his face paints and marinates his features, he was really scared. you were his everything, his breath of fresh air, maybe even his one true love. “never gonna leave you, sukuna.”

and sukuna lays there with you on his lap. you seem still - too still. right before his eyes, he watches as your body’s temp run cold, final breaths making its introduction. everything was going so fast. he barely had time to react before he realized,

you were gone.

“no,” he whispers under his breath. the demon was at a loss of words. the feeling in his chest, it was indescribable. painful, and tight as he watches the light leave your eyes, something within him leaves also. a part of him. you were drifting away and there was nothing he could do about it. “no.” he repeats against, feeling a dull ache run cold through his body. sukuna didn’t know what to do. he’s seeing red, but perhaps that wasn’t just bloodshed and anger. maybe, maybe it was the one true feeling he was denying all along,

love.

his breaths become heavy once he realizes you’re actually gone. no movement, no cheeky replies, no random “i love you ‘kuna’s,” no nothing. the tear in his heart was enough to make him see the light with you. it hurt horribly, a lump in his throat builds up before he starts to weep. one tear comes then multiple shortly follow, landing past the thin fabric of his sown kimono and onto your lifeless body.

sukuna hated you. he hated how you made him so soft, so vulnerable, so weak. you came into sukuna’s life, stole his heart, and also broke it.

as his eye twitches, his smile had already faded once you left him.

for the first time in centuries, sukuna was defeated. his enemy wasn’t a sorcerer, a curse, or even himself who he believed was his true worse enemy. sukuna ryomen was defeated by four simple letters, love. not only did you leave him in tears, but you also left him with an engagement ring inside his right palm.

he was far too late, he was gonna propose to you. that way, he’d build up the courage to say those stupid, stupid words. opening up his right hand, he stares at the ring he wanted to give you way earlier before this incident even happened. sukuna waited too long, he’d actually plan this for quite some time but again, he was scared.

with a defeated sigh, he surrenders, glancing at you for one last time. no smile on your face anymore but he just used his imagination. there you laid, peaceful, almost as if you were asleep. taking a deep breath, sukuna gives you his last gentle forehead flick before finally telling you the words he’s been longing to say for years.

“i … i love you too, brat. never leavin’ you either.”