#I've been writing this fic for what feels like an eternity

[arom-antix]

Link to the other thread about this topic for anyone who hasn't read that version of the post. It explores stuff about Japanese spelling, unfounded expert bias, accepting mistakes, accepting other people, the whole acephobia discourse, etc. including responses from @rikeijo. Massive thanks to them for their take on the situation.

Anyway, I've been thinking about this reblog for a bit, and it's also not 4am now, so I'd like to add some context to this whole "off-putting attitude" discussion for those who aren't in the trenches. First, here's a link to the anon ask and answer mentioned by prev in case anyone hasn't seen that. If Samurai is reading this and is rushing to delete or alter that post, too late, I have it all as a screenshot. If anyone wants that screenshot, feel free to DM me. Feel free to DM me about anything regarding this or anything else tbh, whether it's to get a deeper explanation, to share your own screenshots without wanting to become part of the drama publically, or to rip my head off and call me a bigot. Use your free speech. Chop chop, Filip and give this debunker boy a treat to read (if you get that reference, I love you).

As has been established, Samurai cares a lot about engagement and has publically posted about this many times, specifically lamenting their inability to retain readership and whining about people not being eternally loyal to their fics. See below screenshots from their BlueSky to get an idea of what I mean:

(Fig. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

Break for those who want a usable dash.

Now, you might be wondering why I'm going so hard on this. Everyone wants engagement online, why is this bad? And you're right, it's not bad if that's the whole story. The issue I have with this is the eternal whining about people not paying enough attention but then also not actually acknowledging when people give you genuine criticism about why your way of posting is off-putting. And like prev said, there's absolutely nothing wrong with using your social medias however you please, but you also have to be aware that the readers you're trying to retain read these posts too. They see all of them just like they see the story updates and funny posts. That sucks, yeah, but that's the nature of posting everything on the same socials. If you want to separate your personal posts from your writing posts, you have to actually physically do that by having different accounts. Then the people who only want the writing updates can just not follow the personal update account.

And you have to realise that if a reader continuously gets updates from you that whine and moan about how you can't retain readership and how maybe you're just boring or how your fics are flops, they're going to feel accused. I don't care that you don't intend to do that. That's how it comes across. If a loyal reader is inundated with posts about how the support currently being given isn't enough and that that's making the author sad, then that reader is going to feel ignored and like their support is being belittled. I'm sorry, that's just how it is. You cannot both insist that you're an ignored underdog (see Fig. 16) that no one likes and hope to retain a large fanbase. That's not how humans work.

(Also the (I'm not fishing for compliments) addition under a post that's about AO3 bookmarks being treated like the end of the world is quite rich to me. You're allowed to be upset, of course you are, but removing a bookmark isn't necessarily a personal attack. People's tastes change. They clean up. Maybe they just don't like you anymore. With how many posts and statements you have about blocking people you don't like, I'd expect you to not take offence to others doing the same)

I'm also going to put these posts here. They just amuse me a lot considering who's posting/reposting them.

(Fig. 10, 11, 12, 13)

For anyone wondering about the post being referenced in Fig. 10, this is the one. I've already talked about the ace stuff in this post so I'm not going to repeat myself here. I just thought y'all should have the full context.

(Fig. 14)

And then there's this repost which is RICH coming from someone who routinely insults and belittles other members of the fanbase for simply having different takes. Yeah, Samurai. Stop being so critical. It's boring.

(Fig. 15)

Am I being petty? Probably. Do I care? Not really considering real people have been really hurt by this person's actions. They belittle the fandom they claim to be a part of, they criticise people for simply not approaching fandom like a master's degree, they claim to be so mature and yet is far more immature themselves to the point where I thought they were a teenager due to their seeming inability to take accountability and understand that their word is not law. I don't care that you like academic approaches. I don't care that you're sad you missed the "top-tier analyses" (Fig. 16) made in the past. This does not give you the right to demean an entire community simply because you're so high up on your horse that you can't just let people be and enjoy fandom however they please. You champion your own right to approach fandom how you like. Stop belittling other people's right to do the same.

If anyone is questioning their attitude towards the current YOI fandom and their percieved place in it:

(Fig. 16, 17, 18)

(Side note: Fig. 18 is such an underhanded dig at the fandom, I'm slightly flabberghasted that someone would actually type this with such a post history and general attitude. This is honestly embarrassing and kind of hurts to read. Don't even get me started on Fig. 17.)

And then this is the end of their pinned post on their blog:

(Fig. 19)

I'm sorry, but you can't whine and hide behind "I'm insecure" when people get mad at you for treating them like rubbish. If they have to be kind, so do you. The rules apply to you just as much as they do to other people. I unfortunately don't have a screenshot, but on BlueSky (iirc roughly a month or so ago?) you at one point posted about having anxiety and depression, and that's too bad, but I really do not care. Having a mental illness is not an excuse to treat others poorly (have diagnosed and highly medicated anxiety myself and don't look down on others for not doing what I want. Funny how that works). It might explain poor behaviour, but you're still responsible for your actions and rectifying any bad behaviour you display. You have to say sorry even if you did something on accident or while in a bad headspace. Just to make it extremely clear to you:

YOU DO NOT GET TO PICK AND CHOOSE WHEN THE RULES APPLY TO YOU.

They either apply to everyone equally, or they don't apply at all. And don't come in here going "But what about this very specific case?" That's called whataboutism, and I frankly do not have the patience for your whining attempts to derail the discussion. I don't know whether you're even reading this, Samurai, and I don't actually care that much. I don't believe you have enough ability to introspect to understand what I'm trying to tell you, and this post is a lot more for the people who you've used and manipulated than it's for you. I don't believe I can get through to you. But I do believe I can get through to your mutuals and followers and anyone else who might be reading this, because they don't deserve to be dragged into whatever this shitshow that is your online presence is.

It's frankly embarrasing for you that you're in your 40's. If you were a teenager, I'd just have ignored you, because you'd probably have learned how to not be utterly insufferable with time. However, you might be a parent to people the age that you act like, and while I doubt this thread will make any real impact on your behaviour, I'm hoping someone else can take this information and use it to make sure they don't fall for your tricks or anyone else who might be more dangerous. You're not a dangerous person. You're frankly just an immature embarrassment, and I cringe at the though that any children you might have have to deal with having a parent as childish as you. Do better. You owe the world at least that much. And if you can't change, then don't come whining to the fandom you belittle when you get what's coming to you.

In case anyone isn't familiar with Samurai's type and how they present themselves, here's an introduction Samurai wrote in a Tumblr comment section (that I unfortunately don't have a link to but you get the idea):

(Fig. 20)

Don't fall for this. Regardless of whether Samurai believes they're actually like this, it's not how they actually act. "[...] try to dispel the myths that have been circulating in the fandom for ages." is code for "I don't respect other people's opinions and interpretations of canon." Samurai likely disagrees but I'm sorry, Samurai, that's what this is. That's what this means in terms of your behaviour. The same applies to "You won't find any weird takes on my blog." This is a classic example of someone having absolutely no selfawareness of the fact that their opinion of "weird" is not universal. It's an absolutist statement of an opinion as if it were fact, and as I mentioned in my original reply to Blonndiec's ask, that's not a new thing for Samurai to do. It's very much a pattern. Don't fall for it. If ANYONE (including me or people you trust) says stuff like their blog being free of "weird takes", do not listen, and do not believe them. That is an opinion. It is not a fact. Don't take it as one.

And just to add some more fuel to the fire, here Samurai is accusing someone of plagiarism:

(Fig. 21, 22)

(Link to Vic's analysis btw)

What's so bad about that, you may ask? Plagiarism is bad and should be called out and yes, that I agree with. The issue is that the plagiarism being alleged is, and let me make this very clear, an analysis of a canon event that is just about the most analysed even in a 12 episode show. I'm not saying plagiarism isn't real just because a scene is popular or a show is short, but this scene is literally about a minute long and is, again, a very talked about scene. Coming to the same conclusions about the same one minute of runtime is basically guaranteed to happen every once in a while, especially when you have eight years of fans doing this. These two analyses being posted close to one another in time is just as likely as it being intentional plagiarism. Calm down. You're not important enough for people to bother plagiarising you.

And considering Samurai believes their interpretations are the most correct according to canon and that anyone who doesn't share those views is illiterate (I can't find that screenshot rn, you're free to doubt my claim), shouldn't it be good that Vic came to the same conclusions? Doesn't that mean that Samurai's analysis is being backed up and that Vic is not illiterate? But Vic's analysis gained more traction and that's apparently enough to accuse the fandom of being a waste of time and energy (Fig. 22).

I'm sorry, Samurai, but as someone who claims to not be new to all of this, I thought you'd know that sometimes traction is random and doesn't have anything to do with quality or correctness. Sometimes you're just unlucky, and that's no one's fault. Or maybe the world is actually out to get you, and you're a victim of the universe and everyone in it. I can't prove or disprove that. But I will say that I don't blame anyone for not wanting to interact with your posts. I haven't seen your version of this analysis so I can't comment on how you phrased yourself or whether Vic was directly lifting your words into their own analysis, that could very well be, I have no proof for or against that. If anyone has a link to Samurai's meta (I didn't happen upon it in my scrolling for whatever reason), I'd love to read it and compare it to Vic's. But regardless of Vic's behaviour, I would not be surprised if the reason people aren't interacting with your post is because they find your tone and general demeanour off-putting. And, to be very clear: you do not have a right to people's engagement. People can choose to engage or not for literally any reason and they don't have to explain that reason to you. It is not a crime to simply not interact with people you don't like.

You talk about blocking the haters and yet when the haters block you, you get your nickers in a twist. Why do you care? Don't you hate them? Why do you want them to interact with you? In Fig. 8 you hypothesised that the person who took you off their "super-duper fic rec list" was a "dick" so why are you upset about no longer being in the recommendations of someone you personally dislike? I wouldn't want to be recommended by someone I dislike for the same reason I don't want to be associated with bigots. I don't want my name in any way tied to them or their awful behaviour. It feels like you're crying about nothing and making it everyone else's problem. But feel free to explain yourself if you want (assuming I'm not already a blocked hater which would only prove my point that you absolutely understand just removing things/people you don't like from your life. But apparently that's only okay when you do it. Funny how that works).

Oh and just as one last thing before I end this giant reblog for now, and because I'm petty. They've repeatedly talked about how you don't need an account to view their Tumblr posts (Fig. 22) but this is what pops up when you access it without an account now. Not so confident people won't see you for what you are anymore, are we?

(Fig. 23, 24)

Oh wait, right, you have less confidence than Katuski Yuuri (Fig. 18). I wonder what could be the reason for hiding your blog then if it isn't your confidence rapidly crumbling. You're just a little anxious fella who likes academia afterall (yes, I am being exceedingly petty, thank you for noticing, I hope you enjoy).

Hey, just wanted to reach out to say that I found you pointing out and calling this person was really great and you shouldn't have apologized. It was incredibly true what you said, and to be honest it seems out of touch with the reality of a great deal of the japanese fandom, the nuances and their culture. Also, it was as you pointed out, extreme and may I say rude. I want to mention too that the way it was written, as if entitled of the knowledge and the 'explanation' made it all worse in context of the 'fucked up'. The original poster always gets away by using the 'well-written academic'' statement of their 'metas' as an excuse to do or say and make everyone else agree and if not, uses victim narrative and discourses exactly selecting wording for people to agree on it or feel bad.

I don't know if they tagging you in the way they did made you reblog and apologizing/backing up, but no one thought bad about you pointing it out. On the contrary, a lot of people had been bullied and discriminated by this person when they called them out/disagreed going onto lenghts of sending their friends to harass people, and the other persons can't even defend themselves because they are effectively blocked. To quite a few people in the fandom has been done, even accusing them as 'acephobes' (when they're not) or even Nazis by spreading lies. So yeah, I just wanted to say that. I think you were right to call them out publicly.

Thank you very much for this ask. To be completely honest I agree with everything you said here and don't actually feel bad about pointing anything out. I mainly apologised because I didn't want any potentially poor phrasing from my side to cause unnecessary hostility and because I myself have gripes with this person's behaviour but didn't want to cause a scene.

My honest opinion is that they have a serious issue with taking accountability for their own mistakes and highly overestimate their own intellect. If you're reading this, @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, sorry if I seem harsh, but it's true. I saw your post lamenting how you're the only academic meta writer / fan in the fandom and I didn't interact then because I honestly do not care enough to start that drama but with the information Blonndiec has just given me, I think it's necessary that someone calls you out.

You're not an academic. You're not beyond the mental capabilities of other fans. You're actually incredibly childish in your metas and analyses and I am not kidding when I say that I was halfheartedly writing essays more academic than every analysis I've seen from you when I was barely a teenager. I don't know how old you are and I frankly don't care. You're not as clever as you think you are.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that you didn't reblog my correction (link here to my correction and here to their "response" for those who didn't see that exchange) of your post so that you could control what your followers saw of the exchange. You're the opposite of an academic. You control information to tailor the narrative, you don't cite your sources properly if at all, you don't format your posts in anything close to how an academic analysis would be, you make unbased claims, you reference posts and canon material without in any way indicating where that information is from, you reference your own (equally unacademic) metas and your conclusions from them without indicating what post it's from or that it's your own theory this new one is based on and instead present it as a common fact, and I could go on and on and on. Your posts are also riddled with logical fallacies and you talk in absolutes and opinions when there's no canon basis to claim such things. I'm sorry, but that's not academic in the slightest.

To be clear, you don't have to be an academic to post on the Internet. You don't have to be anything at all. You could up front be a genuine idiot with no remorse and that's fine. But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level, you have to be able to back that up. It'd still make you sound like a prick but at least your arrogance would have a basis. It currently does not.

I haven't personally seen the discussions that Blonndiec is referencing and I'm not going to claim anything definitive (because that would be unacademic of me, take notes) but if what they're saying is true and did happen as described, which I have empirical, if anecdotal, evidence to believe could very well be (a friend of mine has personally been blocked by you after they criticised you without actually mentioning your name which I of course can't prove is the reason for the block but the timing is awfully convenient), you should know that you should be ashamed of yourself.

If there's context missing, feel free to enlighten me and call out any incorrect accusations. You have every right to defend yourself. However, I encourage you to cite your sources since you're such an academic. If you don't, then it's just your word against Blonndiec and anyone else who might comment's word and that doesn't prove anything. Don't misunderstand, acephobia and nazi rhetoric should absolutely be called out but only if it's actually happening. False accusations can ruin lives. I hope you know that.

I'm not a fan of calling people out publicly and, again, thank you for this ask, Blonndiec. But considering many of the issues I've personally seen and those I've been informed of by second hand sources were posted publically, I don't really feel bad about calling this out. I could do a full breakdown of just the insulting "academic" comments alone and how there's no academia to be found in said academic metas and, Samurai, if you give me reason to, I will show exactly what I mean point by point (and academically just to give you an example of even low level academia).

If you respond to this, do it in a reblog. That's what a real academic would do. If I'm wrong and you can prove it, you'd have no reason to not show my post in your rebuttal. If I'm right, you'd have every reason to be upfront about your mistakes and how you intend to rectify them. There's nothing wrong with being wrong but there's a lot wrong with refusing to admit to it in a way that lets others peer review you (academic thing, look it up) and come to their own conclusions about the situation. That's what you did when you just @'ed me instead of reblogging my response. A true academic wouldn't hide a peer review. You'd know that if you were one.

I swing in many academic spaces and yet that doesn't make me any kind of expert and I don't claim to be one because I'm not. But since you want to be one so badly, reblog this with a response and show us all how smart you are. I'm dying to know what your academic take on this is.

[norikuna]

SALVATORE — jujutsu kaisen x reader minors dni

prologue. → going on summer vacations with the jjk men and things get a little...hotter?

pairings. satoru gojo x afab!reader / suguru geto x afab!reader / nanami kento x afab!reader / choso kamo x afab!reader / ryomen sukuna x afab!reader / toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings+. non-sorcerer/jujutsu au, from the back, exhíbitíonism, mild food play, ríding, máting press, creámpíe, against the wall, oral (f. receiving), fíngeríng, hey even in a cave! reader is called good girl, princess, baby, darling, my love.

word count. 4.1k! song inspiration. salvatore — lana del rey

a/n. update #1 writing this fic had me looking up shit on wikipedia pages abt cities around the world, had me checking meteorology maps...tried to choose cities i've been to but i was still racking my brains. update #2 btw whenever i write smut like this i'm filled with outstanding self awareness and minor shame but thats the fun of it 😭 this is day no.3 of me trying to rewrite this all from scratch update #3 day 4! fawkkkk i wanna go on holiday too now. lmao if i was in the sukuna one, i would have been mad as hell, istanbul is stunning <3

mp3. everything looks better from above my king, like aqua marine, ocean's blue

TOJI FUSHIGURO — all the lights in miami begin to gleam 📍 miami, america

"o-oh, fuck. think she's really tellin' me to keep going like this, don'tcha think?"

your boyfriend is mean when he's like this. sharp, jade eyes narrowed as they take in the sight of your puffy folds swallowing him up over and over as he's stuffing himself into your sticky walls. and if you turn your head away, from where you're smashed against the pillow, you can see the floor-to-wall ceilings of the high-rise penthouse that offers an uninterrupted view of miami's glittering skyline.

"how - how, did you even get this place, hah, toji?" it's a wonder you can even get a coherent sentence out right now, your guts are practically being stuffed with inches of your boyfriend's veiny cock, and it's leaving you, well, delirious.

but with humble credit and thanks to what you can assume is your own nasty grip, toji's not faring much better either. his brawny frame is practically shuddering, and while you can't see his face in this position, you're certain that a sharp canine has sunk into his lip, and his breath is coming out in hulking groans.

"heh, you're n-not meant to ask questions like that, princess? gotta, ohhh, gotta keep some business s-secrets up my sleeve, huh?" and he's practically a beast right now, handling you on all fours of this king-sized bed, draped in silk sheets the colour of red wine, "just a reward for a-, haah, a job well done."

any job well done from toji was most likely something illegal, but you can't even bring yourself to care, not when there's a bucket of chilled champagne on the glass table to your left, and certainly not when his fat cock is smearing right through you, leaving a coil in your abdomen that only he can unravel.

you whine, feeling the fat tip of his cock practically rummage and make a home in your cunt, "toji, wan' more," and you're pushing the plush of your ass against his pumping hips, and you hear his sharp intake of breath.

a rough hand has snaked underneath you, creating a small gap between you and the bunched-up fabric on the bed, and his callous fingertips are now circling sloppy, messy circles over your clit, leaving you bucking in his hold.

"n-now, stay still, princess. not done with you yet."

SUGURU GETO — ciao, amore. soft ice-creams. 📍 amalfi coast, italy

you're not sure how long you've been trembling under suguru's mouth, but it must have been an eternity under the ministrations of his tongue.

the sun has been blazing high, casting a golden glow over this part of the private beach, hidden away from the towns bustling with tourists like yourselves who had descended upon the coast for the summer.

soft waves lapped in ebbing waves, the rhythm breaking the perfect stillness of the afternoon, in this wooden cabana, separated from the terracotta villas.

and no, your mind was nowhere near admiring the turquoise waters of the ocean, but rather your lover's mouth practically exploring every inch of your cunt like this.

the tapered tip of his tongue had long been probing around your fluttering pussy, taking in every last drop of your pearlescent luster that was practically dripping over his chin.

not to mention the absolutely sticky and languid trails of melting ice-cream, each biting cream drop that fell on your hot swollen folds getting promptly cleaned up by the one who was enjoying this sweet game.

"shhh! don't wanna get kicked off this beach, do ya, pretty?"

and suguru looks positively devious, his violet eyes gleaming with crude intent. his black hair is a tangled mess, long locks falling victim to your clawing nails that tumble carelessly over his bare back, kissed by the sun and glowing with a soft, rosy pink hue.

and when he smiles, the sunlight catches onto his lips, making the slick on his mouth sparkle and wink up at you.

"been - it's been an entire hour by now, can't you just let me cum," you huff, closing the plush of your thighs around his ears, boxing him in.

geto flashes you a mischievous grin, running a slow finger through your sopping folds, and lightly brushing over your entrance as you mewl again.

"where would the fun in that be, pretty?" he murmurs, "love seeing how wet this cunt gets for me, need to let me have my fun."

what a devil. clearly, getting under your skin is a sport for him.

you're hardly given a moment to breathe before he's jostling two thick digits right into the thick of it once more, in and out, in and then out, as his thumb find its home on the slope of your bare mound again.

"besides, we can take it slow for 'nother hour, can't we?" and now suguru's toying with your clit, and his teeth lean down to graze the swollen, throbbing bud, "gotta see just how much you can beg for me."

NANAMI KENTO — catch me if you can, working on my tan 📍 gold coast, australia

"w-wait, darling," nanami shudders under your touch, under your fresh set of nails raking small patterns over his neck, "anyone could just walk past here, y'know."

you curl your lip, before pressing your mouth in an open mouthed kiss to his stretched neck, warm and flushed.

you can feel the galloping thrum of his pulse beneath your lips, the heat almost intoxicating, mingling with the faint tang of the pool water's chlorine, and the scent of banksia and frangipanis in the air.

you can also feel his thick cock dragging through your walls, as you ram the weight of your hips over and over again. it seems like the shimmering skyline of surfer's paradise was just what nanami needed, after months of work, and you're determined to make the most of your time here.

he's got you bouncing practically like a ragdoll, heavy balls swinging up and smacking your skin in what little space remains between the two of you, and he's panting into your chest, "whatd'ya gonna do if someone sees?"

"mhm, don' care, no-one's here, nanami."

his broad arms loop around you in the pool chair, as you straddle the sizeable bulge that's making a tent in his briefs, "nasty, sometimes, aren'tcha?"

you smile, as your husband's large hands roam over your back, making you arch your back into his touch — as he deftly pulls at the tight knot holding your damp bikini top together.

"ah, don't get shy now. let me see these," and you can only nod hazily as he lets your tits spill out, and press up against his bare, chiselled torso, "wanted this so bad, just a minute ago, yeah?"

"s-still want this," and for good measure, you grind your hips down over his cock with even more pressure, feeling him jolt with a quiet 'fuck!' underneath you.

"haah, that's not fair, darling," and he's crashing his weeping, curved tip so far into you, that you're certain you're seeing stars on the saltwater horizon, "what happened to playing nice?"

you know you should be weary of the flicker of challenge that glints in his stern brown eyes, softened by the haze of your squelching cunt, "do y-your worst, otherwise what? can't keep up?"

a cocky smile curves over his mouth, and that's the wave of satisfaction you were looking for, hoping that he'd take the bait.

he leans further back in the pool chair, now with an arm wrapped lazily around your gyrating hips, but you can feel his grip tighten, stealing the humid air right out from under you, "we'll see who can't play nice when you're begging for my cock to fill you up."

CHOSO KAMO — all the lights are sparkling for you, it seems 📍santorini, greece

"hey, shh, shhh..."

choso's voice is a low rumble as he glides his thick, leaking tip down your slick core, and you shiver as the cool ocean breeze mixes with the warm slick gathering between your bodies, "w-wow, you're doing so good, handling it so well, my love."

you must have made a good choice, choosing this suite. one carved seamlessly into the tan-rock of one of the island's famous caves. and well, your sweet boyfriend has been fucking you so incredibly that you feel your eyes start to water, blear away from the pretty blue and terracotta accents on the mantelpiece.

his girthy cock sinking into you send shivers to your pussy that leave you fluttering and squeezing around him tighter, clenching around the veins as he sinks even deeper, so the thickened head is practically kissing your cervix, and filling you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

"d-does it feel good for you too, cho?” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the soft choppy strands that fall around his shoulders, "this...this is what you wanted, right, baby?"

the pale mauve of his lips curves into a faint smile, and despite the sharpness of his thrusts making a home in your gummy walls, there's a tenderness in his shadowed, hazel eyes as his palm glides down your torso, cupping your tits gently, "w-would go anywhere in the world, if it was with you."

and he's looking at you with such love that you just cannot help but believe him when he says, no, shudders out a "you're so beautiful."

the sound of the water lapping against the rocks below fills the room, mixing with your soft whimpers, as the slow roll of choso's hips leave your puffy folds weeping. the thick, throbbing head of his cock brushes against your g-spot, right there, and you moan, lost in the sensation.

"god, y-you’re so good at this," he breathes into your ear, his voice hoarse and strained, and suddenly far more shaky, "ah - could do this forever."

"w-will you?" you whisper, eyes fluttering as you lose yourself in what is surely ropes of stringy white cum painting you lovingly inside, "wan' feel you all the time, cho."

choso's misty, flushed gaze locks onto yours, filled with a heat that makes your heart race, and fireworks shoot through your abdomen, "think you're g-gonna be my wife someday, yeah?"

you bite your lip, a shy smile painting your face despite the way that he's practically jostling inch after inch into your pussy, pressing into you like a vice, "really mean t-that, cho?"

"ahh, 'course i do," he shudders, brushing a thumb down the swan-arch of your neck, "now, hold onto me."

RYOMEN SUKUNA — dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily 📍istanbul, turkey

"huhh, oh my god! you're an animal," you huff at your fiancé, who's currently sprawled on the plush bed underneath your straddling thighs, under the sheer curtains that billow softly in the warm breeze from the open latticework windows.

and right now, sukuna looks like a mess.

and it brings you a great deal of satisfaction to see your usually composed and aloof fiancé so undone and disheveled, as he grins up at you — the black markings on his face creasing with the movement.

his rosy-pink hair is a tangled heap, but you can't resist running your fingers through the short, tousled spikes.

and his lips, which have been marking you up consistently for the past ten minutes, gleam glossy and full, as his crimson eyes lock onto yours with the smug satisfaction of a cat who's gotten its way.

he'd barely waited a mere minute after the two of you had arrived back to your hostel's room, from a whirlwind tour of the sultanahmet district, before he had pounced on you, and had practically tore your long skirt off.

you don't quite think it's worth mentioning that you've been pawing equally at your boyfriend in the same time as well, pulling his thick and lengthy shaft out of the confines of his boxers, and swiping a thumb over the angrily-gleaming tip.

"d-didn't even take a second to think about all the places we just saw? the history lessons, and - sukuna, were you even listening?"

by now, you're fighting back heaving shivers at the way the pads of his calloused fingers run under your top.

"hah! yeah, yeah. history and all that," he murmurs, low and amused, but his focus is clearly elsewhere, his lips now resuming their previous task of snapping at your torso, letting pretty berry-red marks beam.

you roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of your own glossy mouth, "y-you're impossible," and you try not to squirm as his forefinger and thumb on each hand pinch at a nipple under your top, "don' even know why i bothered bring this...this camera around. the guide said that these sights were o-once, oh fuck, sukuna, get a grip, said the sights were once-in-a-lifetime b-breathtaking."

"breathtaking, huh?" sukuna shifts closer to you, scooting you further over his wide lap, and his voice has dropped to a low and sultry whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, and leaves you aching, "i think you're breathtaking. wan' explore this," and here, he snaps at the elastic band of your lace panties, "instead."

"and besides, i was listening," and now, he's patting his sculpted, exposed thighs behind the plush of your ass on him, "the guide said that this city straddles two continents."

he's emphasising his words with a deliberate tap, clearly hoping you'd catch the awful word-play.

"say something like that again, and i'm booking the next flight home."

"hah, so now you hate it when i am cultured."

by now, his two rough hands kneading at you has left you...airless. thick heat has been pooling in your core, and you just can't help but let out a soft whimper, "sukuna…only wanted y-you to focus."

he shakes his messy head, laughter rumbling deep in his chest, under thick pectoral muscles, "no can do, brat. you’re my focus now. done enough sightseeing outside today, wanna do something inside."

"you’re impossible!" but you gasp as he skims a thumb over your cloying, dewy clit, making you jolt.

you know he must be in a rare, mellowed mood because he breathes, "impossibly in love with you," and it's quiet, teasing as the heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, "now tell me how much you want this, and maybe i'll think about giving you a different type of lesson."

franky, by now you want nothing more than to be filled with heavy, hot inches that curl into you, sloshing their way to the most sensitive spot of all, and sukuna must see that on your face.

"i -," you begin, but the words falter as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and the weeping tip of his cock taps against the wet pool staining your underwear darkly translucent.

"just say it, brat. tell me how bad you want it, i'll even be nice this time," he urges, his voice a sultry purr, "just gon' give it to you as you ask, yeah?"

"wan' you in me, 'kuna," you finally admit, breathless, "i want you so much it hurts."

"good girl," he mutters, his eyes darkening with desire. "now you're getting the right idea."

you sigh, content, but then still your rocking hips suddenly, "but after this, we're still going out to the bazaar for dinner."

"for fuck's sake."

GOJO SATORU — like a boss, you sang jazz and blues 📍paris, france

you're not quite sure where exactly you should be training your ears, whether you should be listening to the sultry notes of a saxophone that wrap around the plush velvet booth where you and gojo are seated.

or the thick, clingy swish of his fingers practically bullying themselves in and out of your pussy. the air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars that make you wrinkle your nose, and fine whiskey (that makes gojo wrinkle his nose) and the sweet tang of your own slick, privately, just for the two of you.

your boyfriend sits close to you, his left hand tight on your waist, and the other working a fine instrument, bunching up underneath your ysl silk dress.

"baby, look at how your perfect cunt's talkin' to me," he's whispering, and you can hear the sheer glee in his voice, his breath hot against your ear.

meanwhile, your jaw is slack and you're doing your best to not meet his touch with a sultry, rhythmic grind of your own hips, but the knot is quickening and tightening within you.

but gojo just smiles, and you can see the blue in his eyes darken underneath his sunglasses that have slipped slightly down the slope of his nose, "but can't have everyone hearing this melody, can we? might think you were the main fuckin' attraction for the night and not -" he cocks his head to the quartet serenading the paris night sky, and the other patrons of this filthy wealthy club.

you just sink your teeth into your painted lip, suppressing a whine as he curls three fingers within you, reeling you entirely pliant and having you lean against his broad chest under his jacket, "b-but satoru, 'm getting close."

he's being awful, you think. and when he had pulled his hand out earlier, it had been entirely coated in a ribbon of your arousal, the slow syrup beginning to run down his slender digit, but he had parted his lips and let not a drop go to waste on his tongue.

the music is swelling, it's a jazzy crescendo that fills the air, and your gaze hazes and wonders, focusing on the open window where the eiffel tower stands ablaze in lights. soft gasps are escaping your lips, when gojo starts slamming his fingers up and up further, right up to his glossy knuckle, clearly searching for your g-spot.

and you are so glad that this booth is turned away from the rest of the club's patrons, for if they saw you, it would be no secret as to what exactly was going on underneath your gown.

"focus on me, love. just focus on how you're soaking me."

he's pressing his fingers impossibly deeper, stroking your walls in a way that make it impossible to think of anything else but him.

"gojo, please…" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice low, "what if someone sees?"

he laughs, pressing his mouth to your neck, and you know he's inhaling the new scent that you had picked up at the luxury flagship stores earlier, his treat.

"let them. paid good enough money to get in here," and now he's getting more insistent, practically ravishing your aching pussy now, "besides, they wanna say anything about it? i'll cut out their tongue."

"p-pretty sure that's, mmph, i'm sure that's i-illegal, 'toru."

"don't want your pretty head thinking about anything else right now, 'kay?" and god, it's one of life's greatest works, how he just knows how to work his magic like this, and the way that he's pinching, rolling and twirling his fingers has you convinced that the holy six-eyes technique, passed down in the sacred tradition of the gojo clan, is being put to nasty work.

sure enough, a little spark! there, and a bigger zap! against your clit practically confirms your suspicions, as does the unearthly glow you catch in gojo's wide eyes, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards a precipice, panting open-mouthed against him.

"dirty girl, you don’t want to make a scene, do you?" he says this like he was not the one who pulled you into this booth, and palmed his way up your slip-dress. like he's not the one who tore into your lace panties, and shoved them into his pocket.

"it feels so good, satoru,” you babble, barely able to contain yourself, as he scissors his fingers wide, nudging your walls apart, "i can’t — "

"then don't," he interrupted, his voice low and commanding, "just let it happen. i want to hear you, i wanna hear her too, but only if you can keep it down."

you nodded, breathless, watching as waiters in impeccable black-and-white attire glide between the tables, carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and glasses of dom pérignon.

"good girl," he murmured, his fingers curling just right, pushing you closer to that exquisite precipice, "now, be quiet and enjoy the moment."

just as he pinches your clit, you feel everything around fall away in shattering starfall. bolts of lightning shoot and splash through your lungs, stilling your heart, leaving your cunt pulsing with a life of its own, fluttering against satoru's fingers which still haven't stopped.

it's only then you realise that the band has stopped playing, and the other patrons of the clubs are leaning out of their seats, slapping their hands together in fervount applause.

but you can only stare, dazed and boneless from the remnants of an excellent fucking orgasm, as gojo leans in, just over the shell of your ear.

"how about we go back to the hotel room? wanna see an encore?"

[winxanity-ii]

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌��‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic—the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

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The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

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"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

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"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[junkissed]

pro bono

member — lawyer!wonwoo x lawyer!reader genre — smut, fwb to ?? word count — 1.1k synopsis — you and your coworker jeon wonwoo have been working on this case for months. now that it's finally over, he shows you that "for the public good" doesn't mean that he can't be good for you, too. aka: lawyer wonwoo fucking coworker reader after winning a case smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, prone bone (the title is a pun hehe), creampie (shocker i know!), spanking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, mirror sex, coworkers fwb!wonu, gratuitous descriptions of how wide wonu's shoulders are just because i can notes — requested by @junhuisms sorry this took so long bff </3 — lots of love to @onlymingyus for proofreading !! — probably some legal inaccuracies bc i know nothing about the law i'm just here to fuck the hot man so go easy on me pls. i really meant for this to be a longer fic but it's been in my docs for almost a year and i've been trying to not pressure myself to write a certain amount so i hope this is still able to live up to your expectations :) i know i've been pretty mia recently but i'm trying to get back into the swing of things so feedback is super super appreciated! hope you enjoy! note #2 — tumbly still hates me and is super finnicky about putting my posts in the tags so i haven't been able to use my regular divider image bc it bugs out :(( i've tried everything i'm sorry but pls lmk how you like this new one!

you’d been working on this case for months, and it had been one to make or break your career. weeks upon weeks of research, reviewing documents and studying laws to make sure your arguments were seamless.

the upside to all this work, however, was that you got to know your coworker wonwoo better, who you’d been assigned to work on the case with. and by “get to know him,” what you really meant was “get railed every night after work”.

and tonight, after the trial had wrapped up and the court’s final decision had ruled in your favor, you found yourself where you’d grown accustomed to spending all your nights: in his penthouse apartment, and more specifically, in his bed.

the floor-length mirror in his room was one of your favorite things, because no matter what position you were in or how you were angled, you could always see wonwoo. see his broad shoulders, see his muscles flexing, see his abs tensing right before he cums; and god, it drives you crazy.

but it drives him even more crazy as he fucks you into his mattress, watching in the mirror’s reflection how your eyes are squeezed shut and tears stream down your cheeks onto his pillowcase. 

it’s one of his favorite positions, as you’ve learned over the past few months, to have you lying flat on your stomach as he fucks you from behind. with your body at this angle, he can get so much deeper into you, you can practically feel it in your stomach, and with only just a handful of thrusts he can make you fall apart on his cock in a matter of seconds. 

tonight, however, it’s taken less than that to make you cum. the pride of winning the case has him on a high, and he barely even needed to get you stretched out first. but he did anyway, his face buried between your thighs for what felt like eternity until you were pushing his head away and begging him to stop teasing.

you yelp as he twists his hand in your hair, yanking your neck back so you can see your reflection in the mirror.

your eyelids droop heavily, jaw hanging open as wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror. “you see how well i fuck you, baby?” he groans, squeezing your hip with his other hand. “taking it so fucking well… i’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t i?”

all you can manage is a moan as tears begin to form in your eyes from the pleasure. you whimper quietly, noises muffled by the pillow as you struggle to catch your breath in between thrusts. you can already feel the burn of another orgasm in the pit of your stomach, and wonwoo’s hands pushing down on your lower back are making it impossible to hold back.

“my good girl,” he coos and he lets go of his hand in your hair, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself as your head falls forward and back down onto the pillow. “don’t hold back those pretty sounds. let everybody hear how you like to celebrate your wins. you deserve it, baby.”

“just as much a win for you— as it is for me,” you manage to gasp out. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, determined to see the way his face contorts in the mirror. his eyebrows furrow as he adjusts the angle of his hips, staring down at your ass, back arching into him and forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.

he leans down over you, caging your body with his own, his mouth brushing against the back of your neck. “we both know you did most of the work. and this… this is your reward.”

“wonwoo—” you moan out brokenly as his hands knead your ass roughly, grabbing at your skin and spreading you apart so he can push into you with more force. you clench around him and he curses, his hips starting to stutter.

without warning he pulls out, rolling you over onto your back. you whine at the sudden loss and at the ache in your muscles, but wonwoo just leans forward over your body to kiss you and suddenly you forget everything you were thinking about. you’re so caught up in his mouth on yours and his hands sliding over your body that you barely even notice when he pushes his cock back into you, never breaking away from your lips as he starts out a steady rhythm, gradually building back up to his pace from earlier.

finally he pulls away, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your thighs and push your legs up to your chest. your breath catches in your throat with each thrust, your mind reeling as you concentrate on the feeling of him so deep inside you, pressing against that sweet spot over and over again.

his broad chest is the only thing that fills your vision as you cum, and your brain barely registers the words that leave his mouth in that deep, gravelly voice you’ve become accustomed to hearing nearly every night. 

“taking every inch so fucking well,” he grunts, forehead glistening with sweat. “god, you look so good taking my cock.” his movements become more and more desperate as he starts to chase his high, his fingers digging into your skin so roughly to the point that you know you’ll find bruises there in the morning. 

still breathing heavily, you whine out his name one last time, sending him over the edge right behind you in a matter of seconds. he lets out a guttural groan, continuing to snap his hips frantically as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock.

wonwoo chuckles, handing you your purse and helping you shrug your coat on as you attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from your cheeks with your thumbs.

“same time, monday night?” you ask as he walks you down the hall to the elevator, holding the doors open with one hand.

he nods, not even making an attempt to hide the grin on his face. “you keep winning cases like you did today, and you might as well just move in. save you the trouble of calling a taxi every night.”

you laugh, knowing he’s not serious but your heart races at the thought anyway. “you keep fucking me like that, and i might take you up on that offer.”

he hums and raises his eyebrows, but you can tell he’s pleased. “i knew having that mirror installed was a good investment.”

you might not be getting paid for taking on pro bono cases, but just knowing that you’re helping people makes up for it. and of course, the compensation you get from your coworker is more than enough to keep you coming back for more. 

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[sevikasdoll]

sevika x fem reader

Forced Attraction.

Tags : Captor!Sevika x Captive!Reader , kidnapping , dubious consent , very dubious , stalking , mindbreak , Dom!sevika , victim!reader , sevika is a creep , psycho even , reader is a freak tho , pain slut even , dark fic , violence , threats , Stockholm syndrome , manipulation , fingering.

Summary : You don’t remember how you ended up here.

Note : yeaaaah. I needed to write this one for my soul. In my defence… yeah I got nothing LOL. Enjoy degens. This is probs very ooc but ic if you squint hard enough.

Sevika followed you from a safe distance, making sure to stay hidden. Her keen eyes observed your every move. She observed the way you talked to others, the way you smiled, the way you walked. She memorized every little detail, committing it to memory so she could replay it in her mind later.

Sevika watched you with a mixture of fascination and obsession, her gaze never leaving your figure. She stalked you every day, always watching and waiting for the right moment to make her move.

The cold night air stung your face as you walked home from a late night shift, the dimly lit streets feeling eerie despite the city bustling with life. You couldn't shake off the feeling that eyes were on you, following your every move. As you quickened your pace, feeling increasingly uneasy, the sound of footsteps echoed behind you. You turned around, but there was no one there. Shrugging it off, you continued your walk, telling yourself you were being paranoid. However, the sense of being watched persisted, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was actually there. As you walked, you started to notice small things out of place, a shadow darting behind a building, a sound of footsteps trailing just a few steps behind you. The feeling of being followed increased, making your pulse race. You could sense someone's presence, but whenever you turned around, there was no one there.

Fear gripped your heart as you quickened your steps, desperate to home and away from the unseen pursuer. You glanced over your shoulder once more, and this time you saw a figure disappearing around a corner. This only confirmed your suspicions. Panicked, you picked up the pace, jogging now towards your house, the fear of the unknown presence behind you outweighing the fatigue. Every step you took felt like an eternity, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as adrenaline coursed through your veins. You desperately longed for the safety and comfort of your home, away from the stalking figure lurking in the shadows.

As Sevika watched you run, excitement and anticipation coursing through her veins. She could almost feel your fear, smell it wafting through the air. She couldn't let you escape, not when she'd spent so long observing and planning. And that’s why she had a plan.

You spot Sevika in the distance ahead, a wave of relief washed over you. Her familiar face was like a beacon of safety in the darkness, and your tense shoulders softened as you jogged towards her.

"Sevika!" you called out, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "Thank goodness, I thought... I thought someone was following me."

Sevika feigned concern, her expression masking the fact that she was the one who had been following you. She stepped closer, her eyes scanning your face, taking in your disheveled appearance.

"Why would someone be following you?" she asked, her voice gruff but gentle. "Are you alright?" Hiding the excitement that was building up in her. She's enjoying this, the power she has over you, the trust you place in her.

"You know, I've been worried about you. You've been so distant lately, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that pretty little head of yours."

Sevika's grip tightens on your shoulder as she pulls her in closer, her breath hot against her ear. Your heart races, a mix of relief and something else she can't quite place. Sevika's words are laced with concern, but there's an undercurrent of something darker, something predatory.

"You've been through so much, haven't you? All alone, trying to navigate these treacherous streets. It must be so hard, not knowing who to trust." You felt a strange mixture of relief and unease at Sevika's words. They were comforting, yet there was something in her tone that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't deny that she made you feel safe, but her possessive nature was beginning to worry you.

"You trust me, don't you? You know I would never let anything happen to you." Her thumb brushes against your cheek, and she sees the way your eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "That's right, you can rely on me. Always."

As your eyes flutter closed, Sevika takes advantage of the moment. She slips a small vial from her pocket, the contents within glinting in the dim light. She uncorks it swiftly, the faint scent of bitter almonds filling the air.

"W-wait, what is that?" you asked, a sense of alarm rising in your chest. "I don't-"

But your protest was cut short as Sevika's hand pressed more firmly against your lips, the cold glass of the vial resting on your chin. Her gaze held yours, an unspoken command in her eyes that brooked no argument. "It'll make everything easier, trust me," Sevika coos, her free hand stroking your hair softly. You comply, lips parting to accept the liquid. Sevika watches as she swallows, your eyes still closed, completely unaware of the betrayal unfolding.

The bitter liquid slid down your throat, leaving a strange, almost metallic taste behind. A rush of dizziness washed over you, vertigo stealing your sense of balance and making you swoon. Sevika caught you, her strong arms encircling your waist, pulling you against her body as you stumbled. As the drug begins to take hold, Sevika's eyes gleam with a twisted satisfaction. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear as she whispers, "That's my good girl." Those words send a shiver down your spine, but your body is too weak to react.

Sevika's hands roam over your body, her touch lingering in places it shouldn't. She traces the line of your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lips. Her fingers slide down your neck, her grip tightening slightly as she feels your pulse fluttering beneath her touch.

"You're so beautiful when you're like this," she murmurs, her voice taking on a dark, hungry edge. "So helpless, so vulnerable."

Her hands move lower, her fingers tracing the curves of your body. She leans in, her lips brushing against your neck, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You let out a soft moan, your body responding despite your mind screaming in protest.

"You like that, don't you?" Sevika growls, her breath hot against your neck. "You like it when I touch you like this."

Her hands move to your thighs, her fingers digging into your flesh as she spreads your legs further apart. She leans in, her lips finding yours in a harsh, demanding kiss. You can taste the bitterness of the drug on her tongue, the metallic tang of her lipstick. But you're powerless to stop her, your body betraying you as it responds to her touch.

"Mine," Sevika hisses, her eyes locked onto yours. "You belong to me now."

Sevika's grip on your thighs tightens, her nails digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks. She pulls away from the kiss, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she sees the haze of confusion in your eyes.

"What's wrong, love? Don't tell me you're already missing me." Her voice drips with mock concern, her fingers trailing up your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I'm right here, after all."

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "And I'm going to be with you every step of the way, from now until forever."

Her hands move to your wrists, her grip firm as she pins your arms above your head. She leans back, her eyes raking over your body, drinking in every curve and every inch of exposed skin.

"You're mine now," she growls, her voice low and possessive. "And I'm going to take what belongs to me."

She leans in, her lips finding yours in another bruising kiss. Her tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth, your breath, your very essence. She swallows your moans, your whimpers, your pleas for mercy. She consumes you, body and soul, until there's nothing left but her.

"Say it," she demands, her lips hovering just inches from yours. "Say you're mine."

She waits, her eyes boring into yours, her grip on your wrists tightening. She won't let you go until you give in, until you submit to her will. And you know, deep down, that you will. That you'll say anything, do anything, to make the pain stop, to make the hunger in her eyes fade away.

"Say it," she growls again, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Say you're mine, and I'll make it all better. I'll make you forget about everything except me."

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. "All you have to do is say the words.”

Your lips part slightly, a soft whimper escaping as Sevika's grip on your wrists tightens further. You can feel the pain radiating up your arms, but it's nothing compared to the dread and fear that consume you. Her eyes bore into yours, their intensity unyielding, demanding.

"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible. The drug has left you feeling groggy and disoriented, your body responding in ways that seem foreign and uncontrollable.

"Please what?" Sevika taunts, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Please make it stop? Please take you away from this place? Please...what?"

She leans in, her breath hot against your cheek. You can feel the heat radiating off her body, her scent enveloping you—a mixture of sweat, leather, and something darker, more primal.

"You know what I want to hear," she murmurs, her voice a low growl. "Say it, and I'll make everything better. I'll make the pain go away. I'll take care of you like no one else ever has."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, a desperate plea for mercy.

"I...I'm yours," you manage to choke out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It's a surrender, a capitulation to her dark desires. And as the words leave your lips, you see a wicked gleam in Sevika's eyes, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

"Good girl," she purrs, her grip on your wrists finally loosening. She leans in, her lips finding yours in a soft, almost tender kiss. But the tenderness is fleeting, replaced once again by a hungry, possessive desire.

"Now, let's get you somewhere safe," she whispers, her voice laced with a dark promise. "Somewhere where no one can ever hurt you again."

She helps you to your feet, her arm wrapped tightly around your waist as she guides you out of your old home. The world outside is a blur. Sevika keeps a firm grip on your waist, her stride quick and purposeful as she leads you through the winding alleys and shadowed streets of Zaun.

"Where...where are we going?" you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your legs feel like lead, each step an effort as you struggle to keep up with Sevika's relentless pace. She doesn't answer, her expression hard and unreadable as she focuses on navigating the treacherous path ahead. The streets are filled with the usual sights and sounds of the undercity—shouts and laughter from nearby taverns, the distant hum of chem-works, the occasional scuttle of a chem-rat—but they all seem muted, distant, as if seen through a thick fog.

Eventually, Sevika slows her pace, guiding you towards a nondescript door set into the side of an old, crumbling building. She knocks a quick, rhythmic pattern, and the door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit staircase leading down into darkness. "Home sweet home," she murmurs, her voice echoing in the narrow space. She ushers you inside, her hand on your back pushing you forward. "Welcome to my little sanctuary."

You descend the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest as the door slams shut behind you. The air is damp and musty, the scent of mildew and chemicals filling your nostrils. Sevika leads you through a labyrinth of tunnels and corridors, the walls lined with makeshift beds, crude workstations, and stacks of crates and supplies.

"What is this place?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The drug is wearing off, the edges of reality beginning to sharpen once more. Sevika turns to face you, her eyes gleaming in the faint light cast by the flickering chem-lanterns. She reaches out, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin.

"This is where I bring my special gifts. And you, my dear, are my most prized possession." Her hand trails down your cheek, her fingers intertwining with yours. She pulls you deeper into the heart of the underground complex, the sound of your footsteps echoing through the narrow tunnels.

Finally, she stops in front of a heavy metal door, the kind of door that's meant to keep secrets locked away. She withdraws a key from her pocket, the metal glinting in the dim light as she unlocks the door and pushes it open. Inside, the room is bathed in a soft, eerie glow. The walls are adorned with photographs—photographs of you. Snapshots captured in various moments throughout your life, some taken without your knowledge, others seemingly staged to capture specific emotions. You gasp, your eyes widening as you take in the sight. There you are, laughing with friends at a café, lost in thought as you walk along the riverbank, asleep in your bed, completely unaware of the camera trained on you. There are dozens of them, each one a window into a different moment of your life.

Sevika stands behind you, her breath hot on your neck as she whispers, "Isn't it beautiful? A chronicle of your life, all laid out for me to admire."

You turn to face her, horror etched on your features. "How? How did you...?"

A cruel smile plays on her lips. "I have my ways. I've been watching you for a long time, my dear. Long before you ever knew I existed."She steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. "You're mine now. Every moment, every memory, every breath...it all belongs to me."

Her hands reach up, cupping your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that have begun to stream down your cheeks. "Don't cry, my love. This is just the beginning. We have so much time together, so many memories yet to make."

Her hands remain cupped around your face, her thumbs tracing the line of your tears, her fingers tangled in your hair.

"You're so beautiful when you cry," she whispers, her voice a low, husky purr. "So vulnerable, so weak."

Her grip on your hair tightens, her fingers digging into your scalp as she tilts your head back, forcing you to look up at her. Her eyes are wild, hungry, the predator within her unleashed.

"But I don't want you to be weak, my dear. I want you to fight. I want you to scream." Her lips curl into a cruel smile as she leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin.

She leans in, her teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. Her voice drops to a low growl as she whispers, "Scream for me, my love. Show me how much you want this."

Before you can respond, her hand moves from your hair to your throat, her fingers wrapping around your neck. She squeezes gently, just enough to make you gasp, to remind you of the power she holds over you.Her other hand moves down your body, her touch rough and demanding as she grabs your breast, squeezing it hard enough to make you wince. You let out a soft cry of pain, and Sevika smiles, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

*"There it is," she purrs, her voice laced with dark pleasure. "That's what I want to hear."

She tightens her grip on your throat, her fingers digging into your flesh as she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear. "Scream for me, my love. Scream until your voice is raw." Her hand on your breast twists, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you cry out again. The pain is intense, overwhelming, and you can't help but let out another scream, your body bucking against hers.

Sevika laughs, a low, dark sound that sends a chill down your spine. "That's it, my dear. Let it all out. Let me hear your pain, your fear, your desire."

Her hand moves from your breast to your stomach, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pushes you backwards, towards the wall. She pins you against it, her body pressing against yours, her hand still wrapped around your throat.

*"Say it," she demands, her voice a low growl. "Say you're mine. Say you belong to me."

Your body presses against the cold, unyielding wall, trapped beneath Sevika's overwhelming presence. The pain and fear coursing through you mingle with a dark, perverse desire—a craving for more, for her to push you further, to break you completely. Sevika's eyes narrow, a wicked gleam dancing in their depths as she senses your silent plea. She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "You like this, don't you? You like the pain, the fear, the control."

Her hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your air supply for a moment before releasing, allowing you to gasp for breath.

"Say it," she growls, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you need this."

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat, but you manage to choke them out, a desperate plea in your voice. "Yes... I-I want this.. I need this.. I need you, Sevika."

A wicked smile tugs at the corners of Sevika's mouth. She leans in, her lips finding yours in a brutal, punishing kiss. Her tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch of you, tasting every tear, every gasp, every whimper. Abruptly, she breaks the kiss, her hand pulling back. Before you can react, her palm connects with your cheek, the force of the slap sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out, your head snapping to the side, but you don't pull away.

Sevika's eyes blaze with a primal intensity as she watches the red handprint bloom on your cheek. She leans in, her voice a low, menacing growl.

"You like that, don't you? You like the sting, the burn. You like feeling used, abused, owned."

Her hand raises again, and this time, her palm crashes against your other cheek, the force of the blow sending you reeling. You let out a choked sob, your body trembling against the wall, but you don't turn away. Instead, you meet her gaze, a silent plea for more. There is such a pathetic needy look on your face.

Sevika's lips curl into a cruel smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," she purrs, her voice laced with dark approval. "You take it so well. You take everything I give you and beg for more."

Sevika's hand raises again, poised to strike. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a tangible force that crackles between you. She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a low, menacing whisper.

"Count them," she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Count every blow, every slap, every mark I leave on your skin. Let it be a reminder of who owns you."

The first slap comes without warning, the sharp sting of her palm against your cheek making you cry out. "One," you gasp, your voice very unstable. Like your mental.

Sevika smirks, her hand raising again. "Two," you choke out as the second blow lands, the pain blossoming across your cheek.

She continues, each slap harder than the last, each one leaving a vivid red mark on your skin. You count them, your voice growing hoarse and ragged with each number. By the time she reaches ten, your face is a mess of tears and bruises, your body trembling beneath her touch. Sevika steps back, her eyes raking over your form, drinking in the sight of your battered, broken body. She leans in, her hand cupping your cheek gently, her thumb brushing away a stray tear.

"Beautiful," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look so fucking beautiful like this."

Her thumb traces the line of your jaw, her touch surprisingly tender despite the brutality that preceded it. You shiver, your body responding to her touch even through the haze of pain and tears.

Sevika's eyes darken, her pupils dilating as she notices the subtle shift in your body. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear as she whispers,

"You're wet, aren't you? All this pain, all this fear...it's turned you on."

Her hand moves from your cheek, trailing down your body until it reaches the dampness between your thighs. She presses her fingers against you, a low growl escaping her lips as she feels your arousal. "Filthy little slut," she murmurs, her voice laced with both contempt and desire.

She steps back, her eyes never leaving yours as she begins to unbuckle her belt. "Turn around," she commands, her voice stern. "Hands on the wall, ass out." You hesitate for a moment, a flicker of defiance in your eyes, but it quickly fades. You turn around, your body shaking slightly as you press your hands against the cold wall, your ass sticking out obediently.

Sevika watches you, her eyes gleaming with anticipation and darkness. She finishes unbuckling her belt, the sound of leather against denim echoing through the room. She steps closer, her body brushing against yours as she leans in, her lips finding your ear.

"Good girl," she whispers.

Her hand reaches around, her fingers brushing against your wetness before she plunges two fingers deep inside you. You let out a sharp gasp, your body tensing at the sudden intrusion. Sevika chuckles darkly, her other hand gripping your hip tightly.

"Relax," she commands, her fingers moving slowly, deliberately inside you. "Take what I give you."

She begins to move her fingers, her thrusts slow and steady at first, but quickly building in intensity. You can hear the wet sounds of your arousal, the slap of her hand against your flesh, and her low, dark growls of pleasure and dominance.

*Sevika leans in closer, her body pressing against yours as she whispers in your ear, "Who do you belong to, my dear? Who owns this pathetic little cunt?"

She punctuates each question with a sharp thrust of her fingers, her voice a low, menacing growl. "Answer me," she demands, her grip on your hip tightening even more.

Your mind reels with the intensity of it all—the pain, the pleasure, the overwhelming sense of Sevika's complete control over you. You know the answer she wants to hear, the words that will appease her dark desires. With a shaky breath, you manage to choke out,

"You...you own me. My body...my mind...everything belongs to you."

Sevika lets out a low, satisfied growl, her fingers still moving inside you, her palm pressing against your clit. She leans in, her teeth grazing your ear, her voice a dark, hungry whisper.

"That's right, my precious doll. You're mine, all mine. This tight little cunt, these perfect tits, this pretty face...it's all for me."

She punctuates her words with a particularly hard thrust, her fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars. Your body bucks against hers, a desperate moan escaping your lips as you feel the pressure building inside you.

"Don't cum," she growls, her voice a commanding snarl. "Not until I say so. You don't get to cum until I'm satisfied."

She continues her relentless assault, her fingers moving faster, harder, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain, your mind consumed with thoughts of her, of how badly you need her.

"Please," you beg, your voice a broken whisper. "Please, I need...I need..."

Sevika chuckles darkly, her hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap. Need what, pet?" she taunts, her fingers stilling for a moment before resuming their relentless thrusts. "Need my cock? Need my cum? Or do you just need more pain?"

Your body tenses at her words, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You're so close to the edge, so close to giving in to the pleasure that threatens to consume you.

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she growls, "Beg for it, my sweet victim. Beg me to let you cum. Show me how much you want it."

"Please," you beg again, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I need...I need to cum. Please, Sevika, please let me cum."

She hums in approval, her fingers moving faster, harder. You can feel the orgasm building, the tension coiling in your body like a spring ready to snap.

"Cum for me, my pet," she growls, her voice laced with dark satisfaction. "Let go, let it all out. Show me how much you belong to me."

With a final, desperate thrust of her fingers, you tumble over the edge, your body convulsing as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, your voice echoing through the room as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you gasping and spent. Sevika holds you tightly, her body pressed against yours as she rides out the storm with you. When the last of the spasms finally subside, she leans in, her voice a low, satisfied purr in your ear.

"Good girl," she murmurs. her fingers slowly slipping out of you. "Now get on your knees and show me how grateful you are."

You comply immediately, your body still shaking as you turn around and lower yourself to the ground. You look up at Sevika, your eyes filled with a mix of gratitude, fear, and desire.

She stands before you, her pants still unzipped, her shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of her muscular chest. She reaches down, her hand wrapping around your hair as she guides your face towards her crotch.

"Show me what a good little slut you are," she growls, her voice laced with dark hunger. "Make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours."

You tentatively reach out, your hands trembling as you grasp the waistband of her pants. You pull them down, revealing her toned thighs and the bulge of her chemtech prosthetic. You look up at her, a silent question in your eyes.

"Don't worry about that," she says, her voice harsh. "Just focus on making me feel good. That's all you need to worry about."

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you lean in, your tongue darting out to taste her. You can feel her tense under your touch, her body responding to your ministrations. You redouble your efforts, determined to please her, to show her how grateful you are for the release she's given you.

As you work, you can hear Sevika's breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her hand tightens in your hair, her hips moving in time with your movements. You can feel the pressure building, the tension coiling in her body like a spring ready to snap.

"Fuck," she growls, her voice a low, guttural sound. "You're so fucking good at this. Such a good little slut."

The words send a shiver of pleasure and shame coursing through you, spurring you on. You continue your work, determined to bring her to the edge, to make her cum just as hard as she made you.

As Sevika's body tenses and her breath hitches, you can feel the moment of her climax approaching. Her grip on your hair tightens, her hips thrusting harder, faster. You take it all, your lips and tongue working in harmony to bring her to the edge.

"Fuck, yes," she groans, her voice a low, desperate growl. "You're so good, my little slut. So fucking good."

Her body convulses, a guttural cry escaping her lips as she finds her release. Warmth fills your mouth, her essence spilling over your tongue. You swallow, your eyes watering as you continue to suck, determined to take every last drop.Sevika's breath comes in ragged gasps as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. Finally, she pulls away, her hand releasing your hair as she steps back, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her climax.

"Good girl," she whispers, her voice hoarse with satisfaction. "You did so well."

You look up at her, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and exhaustion. You've pleased her, and in this moment, that's all that matters.

Sevika extends a hand to you, helping you to your feet. She looks you over, her eyes roaming your body, taking in the bruises, the marks, the signs of your submission.

"You look beautiful," she murmurs, her voice softening. "Like a work of art."

She leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a gentle, almost tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the rough, brutal passion that came before, and it leaves you feeling cherished, wanted, and utterly belonged to her.

"Clean yourself up," she says, stepping back and gesturing towards a nearby sink. "Then come find me. I have...other plans for you."

You nod, a shiver of anticipation and fear running through you as you move to do as she commands. Whatever she has in store for you next, you know one thing for certain— You belonged to Sevika.

❥・・ ┈┈┈┈┈‪༚༅༚˳ . ୨୧ . ˳༚༅༚┈┈┈┈ ・・❥

Wow you stayed until the end… freak. Heh I hope you enjoyed ^^ MIGHT make a continuation someday. <3 Be sure to take care of yourselves!!

[whirlpool-blogs]

whirlpool's personal fic recs, part 2

well, it's been a minute since the first time I did this, so here's some more great fics I've read since then.

(this is a totally fresh list! if by chance you see a repeat from part 1, it's only because there's been an update to it since then)

-> Please let me know if any of my links are messed up, or if I got a tumblr handle wrong!

rarepairs/3somes/from perspective of other characters:

Biggest Dick on Base by @impalachick (Crosby/Bucky) you guys. this one is soooo hot. oh the dialogue is sooooo good. as the author says, "It's canon that Croz and Egan are the two horniest guys in the 100th" and this fic NAILS it!

dancing cheek to cheek (to cheek) by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky/Buck) Curt POV and it's soooo good, equal weight is given to the Curtbucky of it all, and there's this summering electricity in the Curtgale, and the Buckbucky devotion is so real, it's a true threesome fic and author absolutely nailed it!! also start taking your chances in the same series, WHEW!

I Get A Feeling That I Never Had Before by @darkimpala1897 (Clegan+Hambone) 978 words, so it's short but sweet! Funny and original and creative, and like, of COURSE this is how Buck discovers his feelings for Bucky & Ham.

Learning Curve by @hogans-heroes Clegan through the perspective of Alex Jefferson, explores his friendships with Buck and Bucky, and his observations of them from an outside view! Really heartbreaking and sweet and touching, such a great writing style.

Pegasus by merle_p (Rosie/Bucky) Egan is an absolute horny menace and a terrible authority figure sometimes lmao, and this fic gets it! Loved the characterization in this one. And the ending is just <3

Render Me a Wreck by @almost-a-class-act (Brady/Bucky) you guysssss you GUYSSSSSSS you KNOW I love me a Brady fic and holy shit this one is IT! this one is IT!!!! absolute masterpiece that comes roaring out of the gate and never lets up. a must-read!

save yours, and take mine from me by @corrosivesaints (Brady/Bucky) another Brady fic and I loveeeeee it!!! this author absolutely nails Brady's prickly little personality and the mutual trust and attraction between him and Bucky. and not just trust to not turn each other in, trust as in knowing they need to keep each other ALIVE. which is basically love. as the author said, "guys who are not normal about each other and never will be" <3

Squared Away by @meyerlansky (Curt/Bucky) wheeee you know i love me some John whump, and luckily Curt is there to give him what he needs <3 such a vivid writing style, love it!

the vein in my neck adores you by @galetops (Harding/Bucky) hardingbucky hARDINGBUCKY AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! bro!!!!!! oh it's so delicious, power abuse is one of my fave tropes and John gets fuckeddddddd OVER in this one. gripping. devastating tbh.

Would You Mind? by @johnslittlespoon @nicijones (Ken/Bucky and then Ken/Bucky/Gale) HOT! hot! HOT!!!!!! oh god I was literally melting....... KenBucky is so big brained and the way the authors characterize them is just. so good. did I mention it's HOT??!!?!?!

Clegan+Marge:

A Big Surprise by @sweaterkittensahoy (PerpetualMotion) (Clegan+Marge) MARGE GETS THE STRAP OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! biggest yeah buddy ever!!!!!!!

A Horse is Not a Home by @fascinationstrt (Clegan+Marge) Lovely and sweet, explores their post-war trauma and all of them coming together to support each other and also like. literally coming together. hee hee!!

Barefoot and Bareback by @soliloquy-dawn aaaaabrhrfhgh it's so HOT and physical and playful and fun!!! love the little notes of dom/sub floating in and out, truly just feels like you're watching something sweet and sexy between 3 people who love each other!

clegan fics:

3am eternal by @feyd-meowtha 90s club scene AU, oooff it gets messy, deals with the consequences of John's substance abuse and Gale's avoidance and overall both of their lack of communication, and god!! it's so good

a thousand feet per second by anonymous Sub Gale, Dom Bucky and it's delicioussssss, Gale is not doing well <3

another version of me, I was in it by @majorbuckyegan (brianmaybrianmay) post-war, hurt/comfort sex after Bucky has a nightmare reliving running through the forest. love when Gale gently leads Bucky to where he needs to go!!

baby doll eyes by @ladybundle John gets smashed on stalag hooch and ohhh it's hot and sad and beautiful and full of yearning!!!

Baby I’m on Fire & Keep Me Forever by @oopsiedaisiesbaby Teacher Gale and Student John (not underage fic) and yeesh!!! both of them are a menace tbh and I lovedddd both of these!!!

Before the Dawn by @atlanticslide THE stalag fic, like when I envision them in the stalag, it always turns out that I am just remembering something from this fic!!! especially the parts where they are in separate compounds and talking through the fence!?!?! like ouch. like wow. a slowwww burn and it's so worth it!

Branded by @hogans-heroes Gale stalag whump and protective Buckyyyyyyyyyy <3 oh my heart!!!! so good!!!

crossroads by @shipstorms (ipsilateral) has a BoB tag but you don't need any BoB knowledge for this fic!! Bucky and his unrequited love for Gale and it's ouch....it's oh.... I definitely recommend for the beautiful writing!

diamond eyes by @vveissesfleisch (cunninglinguist) whewwwwww dom gale and sub john and it's awesome!! jealousy and desperation and then getting their shit together in the end <3

Extinct Animals by @feyd-meowtha Mad Max AU, but as someone who has 0% familiarity of Max Max franchise, I can assure you no background knowledge is needed. this fic is BRUTAL. this fic is CRAZY!! it's heartbreaking and feral and raw and everyone is clawing for survival and it's soooooo well-written!

futile devices by @drylite ohhhhhh this one will forever be famous in my mind, John gets sick in the stalag and Gale takes care of him but it's so much more than that, this fic is HUGE to me, the feelings and John's descent into his stalag spiral, it's all so beautifully written!!

He Calls Me Bunny by @johnslittlespoon modern AU, John wears a bunny costume to their college Halloween party and Gale fucks him about it <33333333333 HEART EYES FOR THIS FIC!

hit me where the heart is by @london-cowboy / @luckydeuce Ohhhhh my god this fic. THIS FIC!!! modern BDSM AU, John is a medevac helicopter pilot who once transported Gale from a horrible private plane crash, and then they encounter again years later -- but like. ALSO THERE'S SO MANY OTHER THINGS GOING ON AND IT'S ALL MIND-BLOWING!!! past fucked-up Harding/John and current Harding/Gale and that's just the tip of the iceberg. so good. sooooooo good.

i followed fires by @swifty-fox Wild West/spooky supernatural AU. suing for emotional damages!!!!!! genuinely cried from this fic. and not just sniffle sniffle dab at my eyes. I'm talking tears streaming down my face, can't see anymore, this fic is HOLY SHIT WOW.

I think the love I bear you should make you not to die by @amiserableseriesofevents (WonderGinia) soooooo heartwrenching, multiple timelines and so many times they get so close but then lose each other

if it feels like love (then it must be love) by @rangerelizabeth College AU and it's a goddamn masterpiece!! John is Gale's RA and Gale navigates dorm life and college life and a new relationship and it's just. such a great journey from start to end!

jump the gun by @swifty-fox Part 2 of Outlaw AU (highly recommend Part 1 as well, obviously!) and whoa. hits you right in the gut. love love loveeee how swifty weaves the parallels between show canon and this au, while also keeping it super fresh and creative and you never know what's gonna happen next! there's one particular line that absolutely BROKE me......such a good read

kinktober 2024 by anonymous Goddddd. GODDDDDDDDD. Every time I got an update email for this fic, it was like get hand-delivered a delicious slice of chocolate cake that also happened to encompass like every single dirty kink and fantasy I've ever wanted to read???? author is big-brained. author is living in the 4th dimension. READ THESE!!

kiss my cheek, and pretend we're lovers by @euph0riacc Modern Au - Iraq War, and it's soooo creative and the desert setting is so well-described and the whole ensemble is weaved into this new imagining so well!! truly so creative and so well-executed, highly recommend a read!

knuckleball by @drylite PIT STUFF!!!!!!! PIT STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PIT STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let me tell you i was screaming pretty much through my entire reading experience of this. did i mention. pIT STUFF??????????????

let us not desert one another; we are an injured body by @irregularcollapse cannibalism fic oh my godddd oh it's sickeninggggg (positive) it's crazy (positive) it's insane (positive)!!

Looking for Eight by @weimarweekly (VoluptuousPanic) modeln rodeo AU. absolutely blows my mind, every single chapter is so perfectly written, it's vivid and it's sweet and it's truly alive!! definitely take your time to savor each paragraph...so worth it.

love means nothing (in tennis) by @irregularcollapse this was in my part 1, but it's had an updateeeeee since then, so go read it!!! gale's orthorexia and overexercising goes brrrrrr

Moecher by @inpotatoeswetrust (Razor_to_the_rosary) fantastic, very show-like dialogue, love the Curt & Bucky friendship keeping it reallll, deals with John's slippery descent into his alcohol abuse and how hard it is to pull oneself out of that path!! but also like. john jerking off to a stolen letter from Gale. dry humping. HOT!!!

never falter or fail by anonymous Post-war John is in the hospital with temporary amnesia after a flight crash, he's getting visitors from his war days, but perhaps not everyone is who they claim to be....really creative, beautiful storytelling!! i'm hooked!!!

No Proof, One Touch by @c-goldthorn sweat kink!!! pit stuff!!! oh you knowwwww I'm here for it! it's flight school and it's so sweeeeeet too i love them so much your honor

Only You Can Cool my Desire by @johnslittlespoon a one-shot in the Tough and Sweet AU (which you should totally check out!!), Gale's POV this time and oohhh overstimulated, begging, overheated John <3

Rack 'Em Up and Knock 'Em Down by @happy-days19 a whump collection, each chapter is a one-shot and super creative and varied!! love it!!

release, please (no longer on ao3) by anonymous Oh goddd I wish I knew who wrote this, if you're out there plssssss shoot me a message, I love this fic so much!!!! Gale lets John piss himself and then he lets him come and christttt. I legit have this saved on my google drive because it's just like. everything to me.

Sous Le Ciel de Paris by @rambleonwaywardson Modern Olympics AU, Gale is an equestrian and John is a gymnast, super creative and well-researched (as ALWAYS by this author!!) and also HORSIES and also JOHN INJURY! hee hee <3

Stripper, Occasionally Hooker by @donotnomi Modern AU, lawyer Gale and dancer John, this AU is everythinggggg to me!!!! corporate intrigue!! paulina and harding at the law office and ensemble at the club! I can't even put into words how sexy and hot and mindblowing stripper john is, somewhere in the realm of surface of the sun perhaps???? I LOVE THIS FIC OH MY GODDDD. I EAT IT UP. I RE-READ IT CONSTANTLY. go read it, I beg of youuuu

Wind in the Wire by @livelaughlove-write extreme gale whump in the stalag, such a great concept and love seeing the author explore it here!

windfall by @rangerelizabeth modern meet-cute, John meets Gale in a corn maze and pretends to be lost so that they can spend more time together <3 so cute!!

Wrapped Around Your Finger (You Say That I'm A Home Run) by @johnslittlespoon Gale cleans up John's face after he picks a fight, and he's a little mean about it and then they fuck about it and it's great!!!

You Don’t Ever Have to be Stronger Than You Really Are by @oopsiedaisiesbaby ABO fic yeah baby!!! except they're stuck in the stalag and they're both miserable and hungry and itching to get out and oh it hits so good!

You, Me, and the Sky by @oopsiedaisiesbaby Major Character Death, so mind the tags, heartbreaking and gripping and terrifying and beautiful and sad!

"You were doing all this to a toothpick?" by anonymous Gale's oral fixation.....yeah you know where this is going >:-)

Your Idiot by @eternallytired17 John gets hit on a mission and doesn't register it until he's literally collapsing wheeeee!!! so good!!!

[w2soneshots]

could you write about being at school with harry as your mate/ friend thta you fancy? need something get me tgrough this shithole of a school🙏

Highschool sweethearts -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: light angst, pining, making out.

summary: you and Harry both fell for each other, though nether of you wanted to admit it. One night, at a party on the beach, things change.

notes: I’ve never done a young Harry fic but I had so much fun writing this! Hope you’re okay lovely, you’ve got this!!🤗💞🌟

I watched as Harry walked towards me, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. "Hey, y/n?!" I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah?" I wondered what he wanted, I'd been avoiding him recently since I caught feelings and don't want to ruin our friendship.

"You going to the party tonight, at the beach?" He asked, leaning against the locker next to mine. "Uh- I dunno..." "oh come on! It'll be fun... please?" He stared at me, awaiting an answer. I thought for a second before nodding. "Okay, okay, I'll go." He swiftly pushed himself off of the locker. "Yes! Great! see you later."

My mind was whirling as I got ready, all of the possible outcomes of tonight running through my head. It's currently summer in Guernsey so it's pretty warm outside, though it'll get cooler once it gets dark, so I grabbed a jacket before I left.

As I walked to the beach I tried to calm myself down. I wasn't sure why I was getting so worked up over the boy I've been friends with since primary school but it was definitely becoming a problem. I couldn't be near him without going bright red if his arm grazed mine or he smiled at me. It was extremely annoying.

When I got there I spotted my friends. I walked over to them and sat down on one of the beach towels laid out. One of my friends nudged my arm. "Guess who's coming over?" She whispered into my ear with a teasing tone. I sighed. "For fuck sake... Harry," I muttered to myself.

"Hey! You made it." Harry plonked himself next to me, with a cheerful smile. "Mhm," I replied, dryly. "You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed. "Yes, I'm fine." I smiled, trying to reassure him. He didn't look convinced but thankfully he dropped it.

As it started to become dark some of the boys set up a fire that we all sat around. Harry left me alone after our previous encounter but I caught him staring multiple times. Some of my friends were now extremely drunk, I had decided at the start of the night that I wasn't going to drink and it seemed like Harry had done the same.

As it approached two in the morning people began heading home. I was dreading the dark walk back to my house. "y/n?" I heard my name so I turned. It was Harry once again. When he had my full attention he continued, "did you want me to give you a ride home?"

I thought for a moment. "Uh- yes please," I put on a smile. He smiled back, though his was genuine. "Come on then, let's go." He turned and we walked side by side to his car. I got into the passenger seat, buckled myself in and then he turned the engine on.

The drive was silent, the only noise being the wind coming in through the open window. I sighed softly, leaning my head against the side of the car and wrapping my jumper around myself. "You alright?" He asked. "Mhm, just tired."

When he pulled up in front of my house I turned to him. "What's going on with you?" He asked abruptly. I was slightly taken aback. "Uhm... what do you mean?" "You know what I mean. You've been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" He seemed to be annoyed.

I sighed, realising I was going to have to stop putting off telling him the reason. "Okay, okay," I took a deep breath, "I- I think I... fancy you Harry." I said quietly, not looking into his eyes. "You- wait, you fancy me?" An embarrassed grumble left my mouth as I leaned forward to put my head in my hands.

The car was completely silent for a good fifteen seconds, though it felt like an eternity. "This is so stupid." I swiftly looked over at him. "What?" "You fancy me, I fancy you and nether of us told the other." He explained. Surprise covered my face. "You fancy me?" "Of course I do you donut." He laughed slightly.

I smiled back before leaning towards him, our faces only centimetres apart. He leaned forward, closing the gap between our lips.

When I eventually pulled away I opened my eyes to see him chasing my lips. "I've got to go, I'll see you at school?" His face softened. "Yeah,  yeah, okay bye." I kissed him one last time before getting out. He waved, waiting until I got into my house safe then drove home with a bright and content smile on his face.

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hello Genshin fandom 🥺👉👈, how y'all doing? This is actually my first real time writing for this fandom but I've been reading so much sagau fics and they are all so cool that I wanted to write something too. Not really sure if I'm going to start writing for genshin but we'll see. Hopefully this is good.

"So... This is how it ends?" A last whisper leaves you as a coppery taste invades your mouth, a strangled half laugh escaping from your blood wet lips.

It was tragic. Still, a little comic how golden blood escaped from the giant wound in your stomach caused by Zhognli's spear. The whole world thought you were an impostor, someone worth killing and now time seemed to stop. The clocks hands stoping moving, the sand stopping falling inside the hourglass.

For a moment everything was static, unmoving, not even breathing.

The whole world was shaking, the winds started howling. You looked at them, eyes moving from face to face. And they had the audacity to look shocked, pale, nervous and anxious as you were dying.

The adrenaline had reached its peak, making any and all pain bearable, painless, but with an injury like that you knew what the result would be. You laughed again. After running away for so many months, being cold and hungry, and only knowing fear, you let everything you felt come out of your chest before your death.

You laughed till your eyes were blurry with tears. Tears filled with pain and hatred. You laughed till your throat was hoarse, the sound stretching till it was all but a hiss.

"Your Grace!" You heard Venti's panicked voice, smug smile wiped from his face as he had the audacity to come closer. Though he was far too coward to touch you, he fumbled anxiously. "No... How could this happen?"

Yeah, how could this happen? You thought bitterly. You were isekai'ed to this world but you were ok with it. And then the characters you used to love and cherish started hunting you.

All because of some kind of creator. You didn't even knew there was a creator in the game? There was one? You can't remember. Skipped dialogues, playing it through drowsiness, not reading the books. There was plenty of lore you could have missed.

It was too late now.

"Use your futile head once, bard." Was your reply, dry tone making him wince. "Write me a song while you're it."

"We thought..." Ei started. But a glare from you had her silent in seconds, imponent Shogun Ei trembling under your eyes.

"You thought but you didn't ask me for clarifications, you didn't let mm..." You coughed blood, a pool of golden coating your clothes and feet.

"You Grace!" Zhongli screamed, alarmed.

Your body became weak and you fell forward, your knees weakening and small tears running down your star like eyes, Zhongli held you, so delicate and with so much love. Once, you used wished for him to hold you like this, for him to cuddle you and share all this knowledge with you over tea but now it just left a sour taste on your mouth while you looked at those ambar eyes as the minutes go by.

"Please, don't leave..." A cry from Ei's wounded soul. Followed by Venti's regretful tears.

A god of freedom took the Creator's freedom, deprived them of it without using his mind like he used to do. And the goddess of eternity was sentenced a spend eternity alone, without her sister, her son, her creator...

Zhongli lips were moving, you could feel the vibration of his voice reverberating through his chest where your head rested. But the words became blurred and their meaning was lost.

The wind was swaying your hair so gently, caressing your face with its smooth invisible fingers.

In his arms, you died.

[mclarenviolet]

Sunlight

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Reference to past trauma, just a lovesick vampire sharing his feelings 💘

WC: 400+

A/N: Inspired by @lokasxnna and Sunlight by Hozier, you can find the moodboard here ☀️ I truly could spend eternity writing soft/tender moments for this man 🥺

Astarion's steps fall softly upon the forest floor, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead casting patterns on the ground. You walk beside him in quiet companionship, the two of you navigating the winding paths with ease whilst the others keep pace a few dozen yards ahead. With every step, the tension in his shoulders seems to loosen, as if the gentle embrace of the ancient forest has a soothing effect on him.

After a while, Astarion's voice breaks through the peaceful silence, lacking it's usual sardonic edge. "I've missed this.", his sharp eyes glancing towards the canopy above.

"Missed what?" you inquire with genuine curiousity.

"The sunlight," he admits, a hint of nostalgia threading his words. "I spent two centuries trapped in darkness, unable to bear the sun's touch. It's... odd how something so simple, something mortals often take for granted, could be a luxury I yearned for so desperately."

You nod, allowing him to continue. His words seem to flow like a long-held secret finally being unburdened.

"The memories of honeyed rays, of warmth on my skin, they taunted me endlessly whilst I remained under Cazador's influence," Astarion confesses, his voice carrying a vulnerability rarely heard from the elegant vampire. "But now, thanks to this accursed tadpole, I can finally feel it again. The sensation of sunlight on my face, the way it warms my skin, it feels as if I've been given a second chance."

A soft smile touches your lips as you listen, understanding the weight of his words. The forest around you seems to echo his sentiments, the gentle rustling of leaves like a symphony of empathy.

Astarion glances at you, his expression revealing a depth of emotion he rarely allows himself to show. "I'm glad you're here with me," he admits, his crimson eyes meeting yours. "Being able to share this newfound freedom with you, it's something I never imagined possible."

The two of you walk on, the breeze ruffling your hair and carrying Astarion's words through the air. With every step, the forest seems to come alive, embracing both of you in its tranquility and allowing Astarion to rediscover a part of himself he thought he had lost forever.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden hue across the landscape, Astarion's fingers brush against yours, a silent reassurance that he cherishes this moment. He can't help but find himself hoping that one day he'll gather the courage to tell you just how much he cherishes every moment he spends with you. You both find solace in each other's company amidst the whispering leaves and glowing sunset, basking in the light that had eluded Astarion for far too long.

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading! The comments/tags you've left on my other Astarion fics have left me smiling like a fool, appreciate all the love and support 😭💕

[skywalkerslvt]

the way you write sub ani please please please i need him so bad

a/n: thank you so much for the request! sub ani is literally everything to me 😩 here's a short fic i've been working on, hope you enjoy! <3

CW: 18+ smut, sub!anakin, orgasm delay/denial, some p in v, some cock warming, voyeurism (sorta?), pillow humping, 1.4k words

Anakin was in big trouble. It wasn't his fault, really. It had been two weeks. Two excruciatingly long weeks since you started this little game. This game where you'd wake Anakin up with your warm, wet mouth around his cock, Anakin’s hips rutting up into your mouth as he moaned hazily. And you'd keep sucking, occasionally moaning around his cock as he tugged on your hair. Every single time, without fail, you'd pull off right as he was about to cum, leaving Anakin needy and unfulfilled.

Then you'd get up, getting ready for work, and you'd leave a kiss on Anakin’s cheek, sliding a hand up his thigh while you whispered in his ear. "You can't touch yourself while I'm gone, and you definitely can't cum."

Anakin knew better than to disobey you, at least up until now. He'd spend the day aching and frustrated, unable to do anything to relieve the pressure building inside him. Every time he even thought about touching himself, your stern voice echoed in his mind, and he pulled his hands away with a frustrated groan, tears often spilling down his cheeks.

He thought that maybe when the weekend rolled around, you'd finish this game you'd started and finally fuck him, letting him cum deep inside of your warm cunt. He almost got what he wanted when you approached him at his desk, taking off your pants and slipping your panties to the side as you situated yourself on his cock. But when you just sat there, unmoving and clenching around him, telling him to continue what he was doing as if you weren't there, Anakin knew you weren't going to let him cum anytime soon.

By the following Friday, Anakin had enough. His cock was sensitive, twitching and leaking pre-cum as he straddled his pillow. You'd be home soon, so Anakin knew he had to be quick. Not that that would be an issue–with the amount of edging he'd endured in the past two weeks, Anakin knew he wouldn't last long.

He began grinding into the pillow, staining the white fabric with his precum. His movements were frantic, desperate, as he bit down on his lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill out. He couldn't help the way his hips bucked wildly, seeking the release he had been denied for what felt like an eternity. The friction of the pillow against his aching cock was almost too much, but not enough to stop him. He needed this. He needed to cum.

Anakin's breaths came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with need. His eyes fluttered shut, imagining the feeling of your tight, warm cunt enveloping him, squeezing him just right. He pictured your smirk, the way you'd tease him, your hands gripping his hair, controlling his pleasure.

Just as he felt the familiar tightening in his lower abdomen, the telltale sign that he was about to tip over the edge, the door creaked open. His eyes snapped open, and there you were, standing in the doorway with an amused yet stern expression. He froze, guilt and panic flooding his senses as he realized he had been caught.

"What do you think you're doing, Anakin?" Your voice was low, dangerous, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"I... I couldn't help it," he stammered, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I just... I needed to..."

You crossed the room in a few strides, your eyes never leaving his. You reached down, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at you. "I told you not to cum without my permission," you said, your voice laced with a mix of disappointment and arousal. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

He shook his head, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore."

You sighed, your grip on his chin tightening slightly. "You know what happens to bad boys who disobey," you murmured, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Get up."

Anakin obeyed immediately, scrambling off the bed and standing before you, his cock still painfully hard and leaking. You pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his waist and pinning his hands above his head.

"Since you couldn't follow my rules, I guess l'll just have to make sure you learn your lesson," you said, your voice dripping with authority. You reached down, positioning his cock at your entrance, but you didn't lower yourself onto him. Instead, you hovered just above, letting him feel your heat without giving him the satisfaction of entering you.

Anakin whimpered, his hips bucking up in a futile attempt to bury himself inside you. You smirked, pressing down just enough to tease him before pulling away again.

"You'll cum when I say you can, and not a moment before," you commanded, your eyes locking onto his. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," he gasped, his voice breaking. "Yes, I understand."

You finally lowered yourself onto him, enveloping his cock in your wet, tight heat. He let out a strangled moan, his hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to thrust up into you. You set a slow, torturous pace, your movements deliberate and controlled, making sure to keep him on the edge without letting him tip over.

"Remember," you whispered, leaning down to press your lips against his ear. "You don't cum until I say so."

Anakin nodded frantically, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to hold back. The feeling of you around him, the way you moved, the way you commanded his pleasure, it was all too much. But he would obey, no matter how badly he needed to cum.

He would wait for your permission, just like the good boy you wanted him to be.

Suddenly, you pulled off him completely, and Anakin let out a desperate, needy whine. You moved off the bed and positioned yourself in a chair directly in front of him. He watched, wide-eyed, as you slowly stripped off your clothes, exposing your perfect body to him.

"Since you couldn't follow my rules," you said, spreading your legs and running a hand down your body, "you don't get to touch me or yourself. You just get to watch."

Anakin's eyes widened in shock and arousal as you began to pleasure yourself, your fingers sliding between your folds, rubbing circles on your clit.

He could see how wet you were, how your fingers glistened with your arousal, and it drove him insane with lust.

He bit his lip hard, his hands clenching into fists above his head as he fought the urge to touch himself. Every moan that escaped your lips, every movement of your fingers, sent jolts of pleasure and frustration through his body. He wanted so badly to reach out, to touch you, to feel you, but he knew better than to disobey you again.

You maintained eye contact with him the entire time, your gaze heavy with authority and desire. "This is what you get for being a bad boy," you murmured, your voice breathy as you continued to pleasure yourself. "Maybe next time, you'll follow my rules."

Anakin could only watch, helpless and desperate, as you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. His cock twitched and leaked with every moan, every sigh, every movement of your fingers. He was so close to breaking, so close to giving in, but he knew he had to obey. He couldn't disobey you again.

Finally, with a loud, breathy moan, you came, your body trembling with pleasure as your fingers worked you through your orgasm. Anakin watched, transfixed, his own body aching with need and desperation.

As you came down from your high, you looked over at him, a satisfied smile on your lips. "Now," you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction, "I hope you've learned your lesson."

Anakin nodded frantically, his eyes pleading. "Yes, I have," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please, I need you."

You got up and walked over to him, your eyes softening just a bit as you looked down at him. "Good," you murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Now be a good boy and wait for my permission."

And with that, you left him there, his body trembling with need and desire, knowing that he would do anything to earn your approval and finally be allowed to cum.

[paleprincessturtle]

Always Somewhere

Sooooo, this one isn't my usual Harvey Specter fic. I've known F1 for ages (my fiance is a diehard petrolhead and an F1 huge fan, so I've heard about it here and there). But with all the media coverage, I've been exposed to the world of F1 more than usual lately. And I've had this idea in my mind for a couple of weeks now, so why not post about it?

This is definitely going to be a mini-series. Forgive any errors in my writing. I hope you guys enjoy this!

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

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader (for now🤭)

Word count: 1.6K

DECEMBER 2021

It was a little over 9 pm when Max made the urgent call to Charles. Being alone in his apartment, Charles told him to come to his place. He wouldn’t say that Max was his best friend, but they always had that chemistry going on between them, also the urgency in Max’s voice, Charles couldn’t lie that he got quite worried. Even when his nickname was Mad Max, he never really let his emotions get the best of him outside of the racing world. Charles always saw him as a very poised man, against all odds.

The ding to Charles’ apartment startled him. When he opened the door for Max, he was surprised. Max looked... disheveled. The black circle under his eyes, the unshaved stubble. Max smiled weakly as he raised a bottle of wine. Max sat quietly on the couch as Charles disappeared with the wine bottle. He carried two glasses of wine and managed to also hold the bottle in his right hand. As Charles sat across from him, Max sighed. That deep long sigh that was laden with something heavy. It was silent for a couple of seconds before Charles broke the silence. “Are you okay?” Max didn’t look at him right away; his gaze fell upon the white fuzzy carpet under the table, then to the stacks of magazines on the table, to the wine glasses, to the withering flowers in the vase. Everywhere but Charles’ eyes. Max sighed again, and what after felt like an eternity, finally he met Charles’ gaze. “I feel like total shit,” Charles commented with a small laugh. “No shit.” Max snickered at Charles’ response. Max also felt the same way about their friendship. But Max knew Charles understood. Not to mention they live only a few minutes drive away. Desperate times called for desperate measures, Max thought. “I couldn’t sleep. When I slept, it was full of nightmares,” Max paused, Charles nodded and encouraged him to continue. “The burden of everything...” he trailed off; both his hands found their way to his face, and he groaned. Charles looked at him with full sympathy. He put a gentle hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t help much. But you know, if you are open to suggestions,” Charles threaded carefully as Max looked at him. “I know a therapist, a psychologist; she can help. She’s like the best one I know.” Again, Charles looked at him carefully. Afraid that Max took it as an offense at the prospect that he needed professional help. “You are seeing this psychologist?” Charles shook his head. “No. But I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

So that night, Max saved the number of said psychologist, just in case he wanted to go see her. The rest of the night went smoothly, transforming the depressing topic into a lighter one. Max laid on his sofa, Sassy sprawled across his chest. His finger hovered over the number he had just saved the previous few nights. Max won’t even deny it. There was some pride in him that he just couldn’t admit that he needed to talk. Of all the things he could do, he needed to talk. Just talk. But the past few nights had been horrible. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to the empty house as he pressed the number. A chirpy voice in French greeted him, and he awkwardly chuckled before saying that his fluency still needed some finesse to it. “Yes, I would like to set an appointment.” Max waited, sat straight up now. It was nerve-wracking, he thought. He listened (not so) patiently and nodded, “Just as soon as I can.” The chirpy voice came to a halt once again: “Okay, Mr. Verstappen. I can schedule you today at 6 pm. Would that be okay?”

It was 5.45 pm when Max arrived at the building. He sat there in his car, in complete silence. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He could just say he suddenly got sick and bailed out of it. Max was not one to pour his heart out. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He took a steady breath. He needed this. He needed to get better for the upcoming season.

As he waited for the elevator to go up, he couldn’t help but marvel at the lavishness of the building. This psychologist must have made a lot to be able to rent a place like this. As the elevator came to a halt, Max took some cautious steps. He again was greeted by the same chirpy voice he heard on the phone just a few hours before. “Good evening, Mr. Verstappen.” She was greeted with a warm smile. Max stopped at the reception table and nodded his greeting. “Mr. Verstappen, there are some forms that need to be filled just before you proceed with your evening here,” she handed him a transparent clipboard and a pen.

Max then entered the psychologist's room. He pushed the heavy door and was greeted with a woody smell. The room was big with a ceiling-to-floor glass window overlooking the dark Mediterranean Sea. A woman, he bet wasn’t even older than him, turned to him as she heard the door being pushed open. She was beautiful, Max admitted. Not models kind of beautiful but like normal kind of beautiful. Her hair was long and wavy. She dressed in a tan sweater and navy pencil skirt just shy around her knees. Her high heels clacked over the marble floor as she approached Max. “You must be Max Verstappen; it's a pleasure to meet you,” she offered her hand and smiled at him. Her name dripped out of her mouth like honey. “You can call me Max.” Max sat down on the single-seater leather sofa just across from her. “Okay, Max. So how are you today?”

To his surprise, the conversation went smoothly. He didn’t feel like he was under the scrutiny or anything. He talked about his father, the burden of this year’s WDC, the nightmares, and the feeling that he had never done anything good enough. Everything. Before he knew it, their session was over. Max held himself from whining when she informed her that they had finished their session. “You should think about our conversation,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully, legs crossed. Max mused, deep in thought, then nodded. “We can continue this next week, yes?” She smiled at him before writing something down in her notebook. “Next week? That’s like so long,” Max's brows knitted. She laughed, and he found himself smiling at the sound. “You need to think about what we talked about today, Max. And not that I discredited your ability to think about it, but this type of thing takes time. Okay?”

FEBRUARY 2022

What Max only planned as one session turned into 5, and 5 turned into 20. It wasn’t always face-to-face sessions. Sometimes Max needed out of the country multiple times, so they continued via video calls. Sometimes, Max asked for more than one meeting per week. And she obliged as she deemed necessary. But on this 20th meeting, they met again in her office. After an hour passed, she put down her glasses on the side table. “Max, it is with great joy that I inform you that this is your last session with me,” she smiled brightly at him. Max was flabbergasted, to say the least. “What do you mean the last? I still need you." She smiled at him, full of understanding. “Max, let me ask you something. Say that you go see a doctor for a headache; the doctor prescribed you some ibuprofen. Upon deeper investigation, it happened that you have poor sleep hygiene, and you never ate on time. That is what caused you persistent headaches. While fixing your sleeping and eating schedule, you keep taking ibuprofen. But once you can maintain a good sleeping and eating schedule, the headaches vanish. Do you think you would still need to take the ibuprofen?” Max slowly shook his head. “Why?” she asked again. “Because the core of the problem is handled.” He answered but his voice was smaller than usual. “Exactly,” she smiled and watched him. “You don’t look happy,” she observed. “How if I can’t do it without you?” she gave him a warm smile and a gentle, brief squeeze on his hand. “It’s you that has been doing it all this time, Max. Not me. You did it all just before the season started. Wasn’t that your goal? You should be proud of yourself as much as I you.” Max nodded at her answer, feeling defeated. “You should be glad. Cheer up, Max! You don’t have to keep paying me now,” she tried to lighten up the situation with a joke. Max chuckled, “Money is not the problem.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I know.” They stayed like that for a couple of seconds until an idea crossed Max’s mind. “But we can be friends, right? You’re friends with Charles, and I’m also friends with Charles.” He looked at her, eyes full of hope. “We can’t be involved in any relationship at least until 2 years from today,” Max’s jaw dropped. “Said who?” he quipped. “Said the code of ethics,” she chuckled. “I’m also moving to Cambridge; I’m taking my doctorate.” She blushed as she shared the information; she was never really one to share with her client, even on the last termination session. Max beamed over the news, “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I hope England will treat you well.”

As Max waited for the elevator to bring him down, he realized he wasn’t that thrilled about the news that she was going to continue her doctorate, nor at the news that they couldn’t be in any relationship for the next 2 years. Something tugged at his heart. He was going to miss her.

[midastouch013]

Seasick

I'm sorry, I just had to use this gif, but it has nothing to do with the fic, I swear.

Based on this request

Summary: You're on a cruise with your girlfriend, and so why do you snap at her?

Warnings: None, unless you count throwing up.

P.S This one's short, I'm sorry, I've been kinda stuck on my writing

----

The cruise had been your idea—a chance for Natasha to unwind, away from the constant demands of being an Avenger. You knew how much she loved the sea, the gentle rocking of the waves, the endless expanse of blue stretching out as far as the eye could see. So, you planned this getaway, a luxury cruise away from the bustling city.

As the ship set sail, Natasha wasted no time in making the most of the luxurious accommodations. You found her stretched out on the private deck of your cabin, soaking up the sun in a black bikini that left little to the imagination. Her red hair was fanned out around her, and she wore sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight.

You, on the other hand, opted for comfort over style, dressed in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt on a black tee and cargo shorts, a beer in hand as you admired the view (both of them).

"Enjoying yourself, Nat?" you asked, taking a sip of your beer.

Natasha cracked one eye open, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. "More than I can say, Y/n. This was a brilliant idea."

You settled into the deck chair beside her, reaching out to brush your fingers along her bare arm. "Just wanted to spoil my favorite Avenger a little."

Natasha chuckled, shifting to make room for you on the lounge chair. "Well, mission accomplished."

You hummed, giving her a forehead a peck followed by her lips

"I'm glad"

---

As the day wore on, you suggested exploring the ship and trying out some of the activities it had to offer. Natasha agreed enthusiastically, and soon you found yourselves participating in a salsa dancing class on the upper deck , against your many protests which had been override by a simple plead from the redhead.

However, Natasha couldn't help but notice that you kept disappearing at odd intervals. She watched you slip away multiple times, always with a mysterious expression on your face. Concern started to gnaw at her when you came back every time just a minute level paler, but she pushed it aside, not wanting to ruin the mood.

After the third time you disappeared, Natasha finally approached you, a slight frown marring her features. "Y/n, you keep disappearing. Is everything okay?"

You turned to face her, your expression neutral. "Yeah, everything's fine, babe. Just needed to take care of something."

Natasha's brow furrowed with worry. "Are you sure? You've been disappearing all day."

You felt a surge of frustration, your patience wearing thin. "I said I'm fine, Nat. Can you please just drop it?"

Natasha's concern turned to hurt as she recoiled slightly. "I'm just worried about you, Y/n. You've been acting strange all day."

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Well, maybe if you stopped hovering over me, I wouldn't feel the need to disappear!"

Natasha's eyes widened in shock at your outburst, hurt flashing in her eyes before she quickly masked it. "Fine," she said, her voice cold. "I'll leave you alone then."

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving you standing there, regret washing over you in waves.

You stood there for a moment, your stomach churning with a mix of regret and guilt. But as you took a step to go after Natasha, a wave of nausea hit you like a ton of bricks. Clutching your stomach, you stumbled back towards your room, moving as quickly as you could.

By the time you reached the door, you were feeling light-headed and queasy. You barely made it to the bathroom before you were retching into the toilet, the taste of bile burning in your throat.

After what felt like an eternity, the nausea began to subside, leaving you feeling weak and exhausted. You groaned as you rinsed your mouth and splashed some water on your face, trying to soothe your frazzled nerves.

Feeling utterly defeated, you crawled into bed, pulling the covers up around you. You closed your eyes, hoping that when you woke up you'd fell better and apologise to your girlfriend.

--

As you lay in bed, trying to calm your queasy stomach, you felt another wave of nausea hit you. Rushing to the bathroom once again, you barely made it in time before you were retching into the toilet for what felt like the fourth time since your argument with Natasha.

You were so focused on trying to keep your stomach under control that you didn't hear the door open, or the soft footsteps approaching you. It wasn't until a gentle hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles, that you realized you weren't alone.

Looking up, you saw Natasha kneeling beside you, her eyes filled with concern. "Babe, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

You wanted to respond, to reassure her that you were fine, but another wave of nausea hit you, and you were back to retching into the toilet.

Natasha didn't hesitate. She pulled your hair back gently, holding it out of your face as you emptied your stomach once again. Her touch was gentle, her presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your misery.

After what felt like an eternity, the nausea began to subside, leaving you feeling weak and exhausted. You leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily as you tried to regain your strength.

Natasha didn't say anything, just reached for a washcloth and wet it with cool water before gently wiping your face clean. Then she helped you to your feet, guiding you back to bed and tucking you in with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

"Thank you love," you whispered, your voice hoarse from retching.

Natasha smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "Anytime baby. I'm here for you, always."

After you had gotten back under the covers of the bed, you felt a pang of guilt as you looked at Natasha, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, near your legs, watching you with concern.

"I'm sorry, Nat," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I forgot to bring my meds for my seasickness, and I didn't want to ruin our holiday."

Natasha's expression softened, and she reached out to take your hand in hers. "You don't have to apologize. I'm just glad you're okay."

You shook your head, feeling the need to explain further. "But I wanted this to be special for you. I wanted you to have a perfect holiday, with all of the recent missions and the government being on your back. I'm sorry I messed it up"

Natasha stood up and pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you close. "Y/n, you already make every day special just by being here with me. And as for the holiday, well, I hardly ever let myself have one, but being here with you is more than I could ever ask for."

"I love you, Nat. I just want you to have a good time"

"Anywhere with you is a good time" she assured, before a smirk creeped up her face,

"And I'm sure you'll show me an excellent time tonight"

" No walking for you tomorrow, that's for sure"

----

[magicalbats]

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

⭐

The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but … 

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you. 

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station. 

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together. 

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough. 

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief. 

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver. 

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say. 

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do. 

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard. 

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March. 

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s. 

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!” 

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.” 

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!” 

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside. 

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp. 

“Were you able to take a shower?” 

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!” 

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“ 

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.” 

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet. 

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.” 

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it? 

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A  familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.  

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?” 

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.” 

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?” 

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow.  It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.” 

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all! 

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.” 

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?” 

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.” 

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?” 

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.” 

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!” 

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.” 

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of  ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try. 

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.  

“Is something the matter?” 

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way. 

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?” 

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now. 

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?” 

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.” 

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together. 

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all. 

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.” 

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.” 

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.” 

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …” 

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?” 

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.” 

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water. 

“We could always shower together.” 

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming. 

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.” 

“March said the same thing.”

“But?” 

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?” 

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.” 

“But?” You volley it right back at him. 

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.” 

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?” 

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.” 

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you. 

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now. 

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been. 

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you. 

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it? 

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction. 

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person. 

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too. 

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again. 

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.” 

“Go ahead.” 

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that. 

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim. 

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall. 

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.” 

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out. 

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.” 

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back. 

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.” 

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it. 

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice. 

Very nice, actually. 

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though. 

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.” 

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of. 

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy. 

A terse, silent moment passes. 

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.” 

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other. 

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers. 

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing. 

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land. 

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.” 

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.” 

“No, it’s perfect.” 

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.” 

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake. 

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut. 

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression. 

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that … 

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means. 

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt. 

“Just what are you looking at?” 

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him. 

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.” 

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place. 

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.” 

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right. 

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation. 

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?” 

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.” 

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.” 

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.” 

“Dammit …!” 

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress. 

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally. 

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t. 

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?” 

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him. 

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start. 

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.” 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.” 

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand. 

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.” 

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again. 

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …” 

“It’s okay.” 

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”  

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true. 

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself. 

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.” 

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. 

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs. 

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you. 

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …” 

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it. 

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips. 

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze. 

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out. 

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.” 

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you? 

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?” 

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?” 

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.” 

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“ 

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder. 

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized. 

“Oh! If you do that …” 

“Does it hurt?” 

“I — I don’t know.” 

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him. 

“Don’t stop. Please.” 

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?” 

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple. 

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt. 

Pap. Pap. Pap. 

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it. 

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you. 

“Ooh, Dan Heng!” 

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down. 

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own. 

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below? 

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could. 

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies. 

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is. 

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.” 

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you. 

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore. 

“Dan Heng - -“ 

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself. 

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple. 

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure. 

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him. 

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.” 

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo. 

What the hell had all that been? 

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion. 

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.” 

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it … 

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert! 

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.” 

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you … upset that we did that?” 

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.” 

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.” 

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.” 

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him. 

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together. 

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?” 

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?” 

“Yeah, I think I might be.” 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[the-one-who-lambs]

uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

[hiyashortking]

Your Good Boy, Lucifer

Summary: You have some soft dommy thoughts and perform some very fleeting soft dommy behaviors with your precious angel Luci between your legs. You're AFAB and implied to be pangender. The scene begins in the middle of sex.

Note: This fic ends with my favorite sentence I've ever written and ever will write. I cackled like a demon for several minutes and had to take a walk around my home to come down from that line. I hope it fucks you up similarly.

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Your cunt was dripping wet and aching from arousal and when he finally slid his long and thick cock into you, you wrapped your legs around him and held him tightly so he couldn’t move.

“Lucifer, I’m coming. Please don’t move, I’m coming. Fuck.”

Coming? From barely one stroke? Lucifer watched you orgasm. Your eyes were shut, your brows were raised, your mouth was open and groaning out the most beautiful sounds. He could feel you coming on his dick, contracting and pulsating around him, your pussy squeezing him first tightly, then gentler and gentler, until your muscles finally relaxed.

Had he ever made someone orgasm in one thrust before? Surely, Lilith, since they’d been more intimate than not. But anyone else? He couldn’t recall.

He also couldn’t entirely take credit for this. You were so wonderful at telling him what you wanted; at instructing him; at ordering him.

He started to slide his cock out of you, when your relaxed state immediately shifted and you seemed wanton, your cunt beginning to contract around him again.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, worried you would tighten your hold around him again to enjoy another orgasm, as tended to be your pattern. “May I please move now?”

You bit your lip, squirming against the feel of him inside you. He was so big, he filled you up so completely, and sometimes the way he hit your cervix hurt even when it felt amazing. You’d teased him about his size, telling him he could fuck you if he could make his dick smaller or if he could keep himself only partially erect. But even when he secretly tried to do this for you, his cock would swell against his wishes and he’d open you in ways your body loved but your mind hated. You may have been a top in your mind and soul, but your body was a bottom.

“Darling, love of my eternal undead life, my queen, my king, the light of my morning star,” he couldn’t even hear himself over his own begging. He moved his hips and you would stop him each time, pushing him back in where you wanted him and keeping him there with the strength of your thighs alone.

There was a dissonance in you between wanting to nurture and adore this man, wanting to give him everything and fulfill his every caprice, and the reason you were in hell. That reason was your impulse toward sadism, especially bullying. Sometimes you would even swear you couldn’t control yourself, your want to hear him beg overcoming your want to hear him satisfied. Fuck, you loved being able to control him. You loved knowing you owned him and his body and that his sickeningly sweet little heart would never, ever, let him do anything against your wishes.

How is it that the first time you ever felt safe was in hell?

And again, there was the disconnect. If you continued to warm his cock this way, you would connect with your control. You had the power. But if you allowed him to move again, the way he felt and his eons of skills would overpower you, and you hated it. Even though you gave it away with your squeaks and gasps, and with each of the orgasms, you did everything you could to not let him know that he turned you into a pillow prince/ess, in love with getting penetrated by him.

You didn’t even let him call it fucking you; and he was such a good boy he always remembered to call it getting fucked by you. Even though you made him do all the work. Even though he wanted to do it all to serve you.

Starting to lose what was left of his composure, he let himself lie down on you and pleaded into your chest, rubbing his face between your breasts and using both hands to press them into him, the way you only once told him you liked. You loved that he remembered.

You ran both hands through his hair and leaned down to kiss his head. “You are such a good boy,” you told him.

He groaned.

You loosened the grip your legs had around him. He lifted his head to look at you with those big, pleading eyes, and his flushed face. He was so fucking cute.

“Go ahead, my darling,” you permitted.

Immediately, he was back up on his knees, sliding out of you as he fixed his position, and slamming his cock back into you so quickly that you let out a surprised yelp.

“My sweet man,” you praised him. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re so good at helping me fuck you. That’s it, yes, pace yourself, my angel. You’re- oh fuck, aah, I wish you could fuck all of my holes at once-”

“I can!”

“Ssshh, mommy’s speaking.”

You could feel his cock throbbing when you made him laugh.

He had lifted your ass off the bed and held you by your hips to move you into him as he thrusted and told you exactly how he felt.

He loved your cunt so much. He loved making you wet and feeling how tight your pussy was. He knew he was big, but you made him feel like the majesty he was. He felt so lucky to be allowed to give you himself like this, to fill and feed you. He wanted to serve you so well that you’d never want anyone else but him. Oh, fuck, he wanted to tend to you and be praised by you. He wanted to be your good boy. Your pet. Your fuck toy. If he had a soul he would sacrifice it and fall into a deeper hell in exchange for every day revolving around pleasuring you. He would do anything for the gift, the fucking privilege of being inside you, of making you pant and moan and yelp like this, of making you come, of making you want him, need him, fucking love him.

You let out a sound that mixed a scream and moan together, coming on his dick for the third time tonight.

“Make yourself come for me, darling. Cover my mouth so I can’t stop you anymore.”

“A-are you sure?” he hesitated, shifting one hand from your hip to your ass, and moving you that way, while the other gently covered your beautiful open mouth. You kissed and licked at his hand instinctively, and nodded.

He let himself speed up, loving and hating the way your eyebrows raised and eyes welled with tears. He hoped this wouldn’t be too painful, told himself he would take such good care of you afterwards, that you were rewarding him by letting him move faster and harder. You were so good to him, giving him permission to come. He felt like he mattered, and fuck, that brought him closer to the edge. His pleasure mattered to you. He mattered to you. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

You whimpered when he came, sobbing and groaning, feeling him throbbing and filling you with what hopefully wasn’t going to become a sibling for Charlie.