#plot of it. or if it should even have a strong plot maybe i should just say fuck it!! i did consider making it all like- somewhat connected

[notrebdomine]

Eric Harris letter to ID Software

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

I'm sorry if you guys probably already saw this, but this make me cry ngl

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Transcript (js in case you can't read it clearly)

❝ID Software, 

Hello, my name is REB. I have been playing your mega-hit Doom for about four and a half years now, and no matter what new games are invented and sold, I always come back to doom2. The atmosphere and over-all feel of the game is still unmatched in my books. I have been creating my own levels and patches for about three years, and am still going strong. I have read all four books published by ID software about the Doom story. Fly and Arlene, and their adventures. I have noticed now that Quake is the new “story” in the ID books. However, I have been wondering for the past four years if a Doom 3 has even been considered by ID Software. Just imagine, all the old baddies and guns from doom, all the old textures and environments that made doom have such an impact, all of them on today’s and tomorrow’s newest gaming engines. Imps, humans, demons, spiders, all of them remade into an engine like the one used for quake 2. If it’s a story line that kept you from making Doom 3, that is the least of your problems in my opinion. If the Doom novels aren't enough, or suitable, then I am positive there are hundreds of legitimate stories out there. Even I could come up with enough of a plot to make another Doom game. The plutonium pack and such were great, but they were still all on the same doom engine. I believe that the world of the space marine should be taken one step higher, or one lift higher. How many times have you wanted to look up and down, go underwater, see the “other” side of the doom eye, climb on top of the E1M8 star, and so many other things in doom? Maybe it is just a fantasy of mine, but then again, it is so very possible to make it real. If you need workers for doom levels or graphics I could even be a start. With my background and love for the game, I don’t think there are many people at all in the world that know more about Doom than I do. I may not be able to make Quake 2 levels, but my doom levels could be one hell of an inspiration for new worlds. So, in conclusion, I have three questions…

1: Has it ever been considered that Doom 3 could be made on an engine like or better than Quake’s?

2: Is it possible to make even a Doom add-on for Quake, Quake 2, or other games of the kind? 

3: How about a Doom movie?

Please reply as soon as possible, and if it is at all possible, try to have the creators of the original Doom and Doom 2 read this letter. 

P.S. Would you like some screen shots of my latest doom levels, “Tier?” Maybe ID could use some of these levels…

- - - Loyal Doomer, REB.❞

I do wonder if John Romero and John Carmack read it sometime...

[tossawary]

Moshang fanfic idea that I've been holding onto for a while but have no strong plot for: the Airplane Extras meet-ugly happens as per canon UNTIL Mobei-Jun asks why Shang Qinghua saved him / what Shang Qinghua wants from him.

At which point, a panicking Airplane desperately searches for a compelling and believable character motivation as to why he would stupidly save the life of a murderous demon who might still kill him, and hastily blurts out: "You're so beautiful that I fell in love at first sight!"

Important to note: this is not true. It is bullshit. Airplane thinks MBJ is incredibly hot, obviously, but he does not know or like this guy as a person, because MBJ is both a relative stranger and a scary asshole.

Also important to note: some demon cultures have a marriage kidnapping tradition, but that happens under very specific and usually pre-arranged circumstances that obviously do not apply here. Mobei-Jun being whisked off to the equivalent of a shitty motel room by some random human outer disciple, who absolutely cannot forcibly keep him there, has no real romantic connotations. It's just weird. There's not even any life debt tradition aspect to it; Mobei-Jun could just kill this guy now and it wouldn't say anything about his personal honor even if anyone found out. This guy would have to be fucking nuts to think this interaction is anything that anyone, especially any authority, would recognize, and that's not what this guy is claiming anyway. All he's doing is claiming that he's suddenly in love with a hostile stranger, which is still nuts.

So, Mobei-Jun (who is also still a teenager) is just... surprised and extremely confused. Does this kind of thing... honestly happen... in real life? Really??? And Airplane is like, "Aw, fuck, I made it weird. Well! I have no choice but to go with this!" and starts up the "Please don't kill me!" thigh-hugging routine.

Somehow, Moshang make it out of that meet-ugly similarly to how they usually do. Airplane is like, "Well, fortunately, nothing will ever come of this! No way would someone like Mobei-Jun ever return the feelings of his gross, pathetic human servant. I can freely express how sexy I think he is and it'll just be meaningless lovesick flattery to this asshole." Real emotions? That soft, squishy bullshit? Airplane does not have the TIME to contemplate having sincere feelings. He's in survival mode.

And teenage Mobei-Jun, spoiled demonic nobility extraordinaire, who otherwise would have spent the next 20 years or so thinking of his human servant as gross and pathetic and repulsive but strangely useful, is like, "I think... I'm being wooed...??? Is this working on me...? He's kind of... not unattractive, actually, for a madman. Maybe I should try to be... nice... to him??? How do humans do this???"

And THEN, months to years later, young and in-love Mobei-Jun somehow finds out that Shang Qinghua outright lied to him. (And by this point is pretty fond of Mobei-Jun but still hasn't looked directly at his own real emotions for years. He's busy.)

Arguably, the above idea is one way to interpret normal canon already, with Mobei-Jun reading more than is mutually understood into Shang Qinghua's bullshit, failing to communicate what he thinks their relationship is (if he even fucking knows himself), and then feeling betrayed when Shang Qinghua ditches him for being an asshole. But I'm charmed by the idea of distracted Shang Qinghua explicitly lying, actively making it WORSE by knowingly behaving "romantically" under the assumption that it's harmless because Mobei-Jun basically doesn't even HAVE emotions, and then getting blindsided by having his impossible "unrequited" love returned and accidentally, apparently breaking Mobei-Jun's heart. Fuck!!!

[bibibbon]

Hi, another idea. Delaware made a post talking about how Mina was anti gadget on the sport festival (she faced Aoayama who was wearing one, note how he doesn't anymore after that... maybe he does and I'm mistake) it was an Answer for an ask.

But it was noted how she think less of Aoayama and how no one in UA seems to care for Aoayama as a student till the big reveal.

It makes me think if Izu had a gadget...people would.hate on him. Many fics love make BK ruining his gadgets and I can see it but Mina went straight to the gadget (one may say that was a clever move on her part but it felt as if she was bullying him) so...I think if Izu was to use gadget ...he would be even more an odder duck.

I say this bc in my TTau. I want to have Izumi to wear gadgets to prevent her bones to shatter and we see A1 being shitty friends, ofc. Karma is coming to them.

Izumi sees how UA has no care in teaching how to use quirks and many heroes are content in use the basic. Mirio learned how to control his quirk alone (nighteye gets no credit here as he didn't lift a finger) and wonders what's the point in being a hero? Why do we need a hero anyway?

Hi @mikeellee 👋

I don't think mina is anti-gadget or she isn't anti-gadget on purpose, that is.

What I mean by this is that mina aimed for yuuga's belt because she thought it was the easiest way to take him out. Now, this is only fair as it definitely was the quickest way to win that fight as the problem with yuuga is that he is DEPENDENT on that support item and therefore he can't do much without it.

You can argue that her aiming for his support device is unfair, but that argument falls flat when the whole premise festival is to do whatever to win as long as it's not outright killing your opponent. The argument then falls flat again when you put this in a real-life villain vs. hero type of situation where people will do whatever, however cruel or nasty it may be, to win.

The thing is, yuuga still does wear his support item, but it blends in well with his hero costume, which is the only time he actually uses his quirk. The support item sticks out like a sore thumb when yuuga is in his sports kit, so maybe that's why you got confused.

I don't ever remember seeing mina stating or thinking that yuuga is less than her or anyone else because of his use of a support item.

Also, I think the lack of focus or care for yuuga before the traitor arc was both intentional and somewhat of a writing issue. Horikoshi deeply neglected the traitor plot surrounding yuuga, and because of that, we don't get much of yuuga or foreshadowing to his character arc. I also like to think that yuuga probably had a strong internal conflict within him due to the role he had to play and how he could never be who he wants to be due to the connections he has with AFO. Due to feelings of guilt and not wanting to cause harm by staying ignorant, yuuga probably tried and failed to distance himself from class 1A.

The argument kinda ends up falling apart when you do realise that in Canon izuku does have a gadget. Remeber the support item that Melissa made for his arm, yep izuku has that and he constantly wears it with his hero outfit and we don't see much comments on that.

All mights point to izuku was to not rely on support items which he has a point when it comes to that but does end up coming off as harmful advice if you take into account how All Might is as a character.

Again, I think it depends on the type of gadget that izuki would use for people to exploit it. Something such as his arm bands are okay because he can function without them, and honestly, the arm bands aren't easy to reach at all, not without izuku punching or hitting someone.

The TTAU sounds like a great way to tackle some of the issues that the narrative has. I do think that you should introduce a nuanced conversation when it comes to support equipment. Leading izumi to such a conclusion is also interesting because heroes are supposed to help, and hero schools are supposed to help you improve and strengthen your quirk, but ua does it with almost no direct support given to the students.

[halojalex]

the more i read multi-chaptered fics, especially slow burn ones, the more i feel like i lose faith in my own chaptered fic that i have yet to even start

like i don't mean this in a self-pitying way, i just feel like i don't have enough motivation to write it as well as some of the other slow-burn fics i read. it's not even like i don't like the premise, like i feel as though it could be really good if written well, i just don't have the motivation to even start it

[lumalalu]

why on earth do you even want a fe4 remake if you dont want anything to change just go play the original game.

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of monster!141 x chubby reader

Part One.

CW: reader isn’t in a good place mentally and it’s affecting her reactions and the 141 absolutely take advantage of it. This is definitely not accurate in terms of reality. Reader has a lot of self-esteem issues, especially regarding her weight.

The thing is, you know you should be panicking way more. You know you should be fighting back, trying to think of an escape plan.

But you don’t. Exhaustion clings to you like a second skin, and you simply decide you don’t have any energy to do anything much- especially against shifters twice your size at the minimum. If they want to kill you, so be it. You doubt there’d be anyone to miss you; your parents only ever cared about your other siblings, your friends weren’t exactly your friends apparently, and you ex…

“Penny for your thoughts, dove?” The harpy whose lap you are perched on murmurs, wings fluffing out around you, the feathers soft and warm. You haven’t been on any couches or cushions ever since you woke up here, always in one of their laps. You had been terrified at first, and fear still lingers even now, but all they do is hold you tight and occasionally sniff you. Nothing more.

“Not worth much.” You whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. The feathers around you rustle again, tickling your skin ever so slightly, and you can feel him nuzzle the crown of your head.

“I disagree,” Kyle says, voice musing.. The arms wound around your waist tighten, and you are pulled impossibly closer to him. Your head still finds it hard to believe just how strong they are- easily maneuvering someone even of your size like your weigh nothing. Your ex never bothered; often just made a passing mention that maybe he’d carry you like that if you hit the gym and lost a few pounds. “Worth quite a lot to me. To us.”

You don’t have a reply to that; it’s still weird and unbelievable to you. Soulmates. What a joke. Even if they existed, you doubted anyone would like you like this. Not to mention the soulmate of a harpy, a werewolf, a dragon and a wraith? It sounded like a crappy plot you’d find while scouring the internet, written by a college student driven insane in their last year.

But they insisted they were right, and refuse to let you go, and now here you are being cuddled to one of them while the other three thud about upstairs. You can hear their voices, but not what they are saying. Though it sounds like they are quite busy.

“You cold, dove?” Kyle asks when he feels you shudder again, at last wrapping his wings fully around you even before you can answer. The feathers are so soft, and he smells so nice, like jasmine and vanilla. You almost felt hungry, simply smelling him.

“No.” The answer is quiet, croaked out tiredly. Sleep tugs at you even though it hasn’t been that long since you’ve woken up, the pounding, hungover headache long since dissipated.

You hate this syrupy slowness that lets you remain snuggled against him. You hate how safe you feel, despite your mind screaming at you otherwise. You don’t know these men, don’t know anything about them except their names, and yet your body has never felt quite this comfortable.

“Sleep, precious.” Kyle croons, his hand rubbing down your back. He buries his face in your hair, still crooning, and leaves a trail of kisses across your temple. “Sleep. You are safest and soundest here, with us.”

And so your eyes flutter shut, and your breath evens out; sleep comes to you as easy as breathing, and for one, ephemeral second, you don’t worry about your weight being too much for him.

[aceyalonso]

pretty in pink - CARLOS SAINZ

pairing : carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader kinktober day 16 - lingerie

summary : spending 23 grand on a shopping spree? that's something only y/n can do, but of course the money spent will always be worth it, especially when she gets something that can benefit her and carlos

warnings/notes : swearing, a bit of plot, smut, spit, nipple play, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!), hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, anal sex, mention and use of sex toys, gagging, praise kink, explicit photography (with consent of course)

word count : 5.7k

a/n : sorry if this took so long, i was so busy these past few days

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist | taglist form

Y/n walked through the front door, arms laden with shopping bags. "I'm home!" she called out cheerfully, expecting Carlos to greet her. When there was no response, she assumed he must still be asleep after his training session this morning.

Humming to herself, Y/n made her way to the kitchen, setting her purchases down on the counter. She opened the refrigerator door, bending over to grab a bottle of water.

Suddenly, strong arms encircled her waist from behind, pulling her back against a firm chest. Y/n let out a startled yelp, heart leaping into her throat as she spun around.

Carlos grinned down at her, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well hello there, beautiful," he purred, voice low and husky. "Welcome home."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling back. "You scared me half to death, you jerk," she laughed, playfully swatting his chest. "I thought you were asleep."

Carlos chuckled, his hands sliding down to rest on Y/n's hips. "Oh, I was sleeping like a baby...until the bank called to ask if my credit card had been stolen. Apparently, someone went on quite the shopping spree today."

Y/n bit her lip, trying to look innocent. "I may have gone a little overboard," she admitted sheepishly. "But you know how it is when the girls drag you out shopping. One minute you're just browsing, and the next you've maxed out three credit cards."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, amused. "Eight thousand dollars at Sephora? What exactly did you buy, love? The entire store?"

Y/n giggled, leaning into him. "Maybe. But you should see the new eyeshadow palettes I got! They're to die for."

"And don't even get me started on Victoria's Secret," Carlos teased, his hands dipping lower. "Fifteen grand? I think that's more than the GDP of some small countries."

Y/n giggled, playfully swatting Carlos' chest. "C'mon, don't be such a killjoy! I got it for you!"

Realizing how that sounded, her eyes widened and she backpedaled quickly. "Wait, no, that came out wrong! I didn't buy you lingerie to wear, I swear!"

Carlos raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Really? Because I have to say, I'm a bit interested in this... development."

"No, no, nothing like that!" Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "I just figured you'd like seeing me in some of the new sets I got. You know, for your viewing pleasure and all that."

She bit her lip, a coy smile playing on her lips. "I'll model them for you after dinner, if you'd like. Give you a little private fashion show."

Carlos' eyes darkened, his gaze raking over her appreciatively. "Mmm, I think I'd like that very much, amor."

After dinner, Y/n led Carlos to their bedroom, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have three sets to show you tonight," she purred, her hands sliding up his chest. "And I think you're going to like them very much."

She disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment before emerging in a stunning white lingerie set. The bra was all lace and delicate straps, barely containing her ample breasts. The matching thong was equally skimpy, hugging her hips and leaving little to the imagination.

"What do you think?" Y/n asked, doing a slow spin. The white lace contrasted beautifully against her golden skin, making her look like a naughty angel.

Carlos' eyes darkened with lust, his hands flexing at his sides. "Fuck, Y/n," he growled, his voice low and rough. "You look gorgeous."

Y/n smiled, pleased by Carlos' reaction. "Thank you, baby," she purred, giving him a quick smile before sauntering back into the closet to change into the next set.

A moment later, she emerged in a stunning blue satin ensemble. The bra was a plunging push-up style, making her breasts look even more voluptuous than usual. The high-waisted panties hugged her curves, the satin smooth and cool against her skin.

"What do you think of this one?" Y/n asked, striking a pose. She ran her hands down her sides, tracing the curves of her waist and hips. "I thought the color would bring out my eyes."

Carlos' mouth went dry at the sight of her, his cock already starting to harden in his shorts. "It does," he managed, his voice strained. "It brings out how fucking sexy you are."

Y/n chuckled, her eyes flickering down to the growing bulge in Carlos' shorts. "Whoa there, big boy," she teased, sauntering closer to him. "We've got one more set to go. You need to calm down before you explode."

She reached out, trailing a finger along the waistband of his shorts, feeling the heat of his skin. "Although," she purred, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "I can't blame you. I'd be pretty excited too if I had a sexy girlfriend parading around in lingerie."

Carlos groaned, his hips bucking into her touch. "Fuck, Y/n," he growled, his hands settling on her hips. "You're killing me here."

Y/n grinned, giving his bulge a little squeeze before stepping back. "Patience, Carlos," she said, placing a peck on the corner of his lips. "The best is yet to come."

With that, she turned and headed back to the closet to change into the final set, leaving Carlos aching and wanting.

Y/n emerged from the closet for the final time, and Carlos' breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a soft baby pink set, the color he loved most on her. The bra was a delicate lace bralette, barely containing her full breasts. The matching thong was equally sweet, a tiny bow adorning the front.

"This one's my favorite," Carlos said hoarsely, his eyes devouring her. "You look absolutely stunning, Y/n."

Y/n smiled, pleased by his reaction. She did a little twirl, the fabric riding up to reveal the curve of her ass. "I'm glad you like it," she purred, walking towards him. "I picked it just for you."

She stopped in front of him, looping her arms around his neck. "So, what do you think of the whole collection?" she asked, pressing her body against his. "Did I do a good job?"

Carlos nodded, his lips brushing against Y/n's skin as he spoke. "Mhm," he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding down to grip her hips.

He pressed his mouth to her abdomen, trailing kisses across her soft skin. "Turn around for me, hermosa?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to see the back again."

Y/n shivered at the command in his tone, and the way he took charge. She obeyed without hesitation, slowly turning in a circle so he could admire the view.

The thong rode up as she moved, revealing the curve of her ass and the tiny pink thong nestled between her cheeks. Carlos groaned, his hands flexing with the urge to grab and squeeze.

Carlos' eyes darkened with lust as Y/n turned, revealing the tantalizing view of her ass barely covered by the thin pink thong. "Dios mio," he breathed, his hands flexing with the urge to grab and squeeze. "Can I rip it off?"

"Carlos, no," Y/n protested weakly, even as a thrill raced through her at his intensity. "I just bought this a few hours ago."

But he was already moving, his large hands gripping her hips and spinning her back around. In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers in the delicate fabric of the thong and ripped, the sound of tearing lace filling the room.

Y/n gasped as the flimsy garment gave way, Carlos tossing it aside carelessly. He pushed her back onto the bed, crawling over her with a predatory gleam in his eye.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his hands roaming over her bare skin. "I can't wait to ruin you."

Y/n whined as Carlos manhandled her, his rough treatment sending a thrill through her body despite her protests. "Carlos, c'mon," she pleaded, even as her hips bucked up against him. "I really liked that set."

Carlos just grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Sorry, baby," he purred, nipping at her earlobe. "But you look even better out of it."

He kissed down her neck, his hands sliding under her to unhook the delicate bra. With a flick of his fingers, the clasp came undone, and he tossed the lacy garment aside.

Y/n's breasts spilled free, and Carlos groaned at the sight. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growled, cupping the soft mounds in his hands. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to tease a pebbled nipple.

She arched into the touch, a moan escaping her lips. "Carlos," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Please..."

Carlos paused, looking up at Y/n with a raised eyebrow. "Please what?" he asked, his voice low and teasing. "Are you asking me to stop ruining your pretty lingerie?"

Y/n bit her lip, shaking her head. "No," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not asking you to stop."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Carlos' face. "That's what I thought," he purred, his lips curving into a smirk.

He continued his journey down her body, his kisses growing more heated as he went. He nuzzled the soft skin of her belly, his stubble rasping against her sensitive flesh.

Lower and lower he went, until his face was level with her pelvis. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. "I'll buy you another pair of this set tomorrow," he promised, his voice muffled against her skin. "But for now..."

Carlos dipped his head between Y/n's thighs, his tongue delving into her folds with sensual, deliberate strokes. He took his time, savoring the taste of her, the way she writhed and moaned beneath him.

"Carlos, baby," Y/n gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair. "So good, god you're so good."

She ground against his face, her hips bucking as she chased her pleasure. But Carlos wasn't having it. He pushed her hips back down, holding her in place.

"Calm down, mi amor," he murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating through her. "I've got you. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling with need. But she forced herself to still, trusting Carlos to bring her to the heights of ecstasy.

Carlos rewarded her obedience with a long, slow lick, his tongue swirling around her clit. He alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, building her pleasure steadily.

Carlos continued his assault on Y/n's pussy, his tongue delving deep, savoring every inch of her. He wasn't rushing, wasn't devouring her like a starved man. No, he was taking his time, committing every taste, every texture to memory.

The way she dripped onto his tongue, coating his taste buds with her essence. The little gasps and moans she made, music to his ears. The way her thighs trembled on either side of his head, her body surrendering to his touch.

He was messy, spit dripping down his chin, smearing across his cheeks. But he didn't care. All that mattered was Y/n, her pleasure, her satisfaction.

Carlos kept his mouth firmly planted between Y/n's thighs, his tongue delving deep into her soaked folds. God, she was so wet, her arousal coating his chin and dripping down onto the sheets below.

He moaned against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. His nose bumped against her clit with each thrust of his tongue, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing with need.

Y/n's legs slowly wrapped around his head, her heels digging into his back as she pulled him closer. "Fuck, baby," she panted, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Keep going, it feels so good. Like that, just like that."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her hips rocking against Carlos' face as he devoured her. She gasped as she felt his fingers teasing her entrance, circling the sensitive flesh but not quite penetrating.

"I want more, Carlos," she whimpered, her voice high and needy. "I want your fingers inside."

Carlos obliged, slowly pushing one finger into her tight heat. He groaned at the feel of her, hot and wet and perfect around him. He pumped his finger in and out, curling it to hit that special spot inside her.

Y/n keened, her back arching off the bed as he fingered her. "Yes, yes, just like that," she chanted, her walls clenching around his digits. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Carlos thrust his middle finger deep into Y/n's pussy, the longest digit providing the perfect stretch. She moaned loudly, her legs shaking as he pumped in and out, curling his finger to hit her G-spot with each stroke.

Her body seemed to be at war with itself, her legs trembling and threatening to close, but her pussy clenching greedily around his finger, silently begging for more.

Carlos could feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around him, her moans growing higher and more desperate. He doubled his efforts, adding a second finger and rubbing her clit with his thumb.

"That's it, baby," he growled against her skin. "Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Y/n's body tensed, her orgasm building slowly but surely. It took a few moments, but when it finally hit, it crashed over her like a pile of falling bricks.

Her back arched off the bed, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. It was as if they were in a soundproof room, her moans echoing off the walls, filling the space with the symphony of her ecstasy.

Carlos worked her through it, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive flesh. He lapped at her clit, drawing out her climax until she was a writhing, trembling mess beneath him.

Finally, she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Carlos gently withdrew his fingers, pressing a tender kiss to her inner thigh.

Carlos continued his worship of Y/n's body, his lips trailing kisses up and down her trembling thighs. He took his time, savoring the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her soft skin beneath his lips.

Then, unable to resist any longer, he dipped his head back between her legs, his tongue delving into her soaked folds once more. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

He ate her out with fervor, his tongue swirling around her clit, dipping into her entrance, lapping up her essence. Y/n shook beneath him, her hands fisting in the sheets as she tried to anchor herself against the onslaught of sensation.

Carlos could feel her getting close again, her walls fluttering around his tongue, her moans growing higher and more desperate. He doubled his efforts, determined to bring her to the edge once more.

Y/n's hands fisted in Carlos' hair, tugging him closer as he devoured her. "Baby, you feel so good," she panted, her hips rocking against his face. "Keep going, don't stop."

Carlos growled in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep, lapping at her walls, flicking rapidly over her clit.

Y/n's thighs began to tremble, her body tensing as her second orgasm approached. "Carlos, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." she gasped, her words dissolving into a high, keening moan as she came undone.

Carlos worked her through it, his mouth never leaving her pussy, prolonging her pleasure until she was a boneless, satisfied mess beneath him.

Y/n came again and again, her body shaking with the force of her orgasms. Carlos gentled his touch, his tongue lapping softly at her sensitive flesh as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

He pulled back, pressing tender kisses to her trembling thighs. "You're so pretty when you cum," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "The way you shake, the sounds you make... it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Y/n whimpered, her body still twitching with aftershocks. Carlos' words, combined with the feeling of his lips on her skin, sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.

"More," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need more, Carlos. Please..."

Carlos trailed kisses up Y/n's body, leaving a trail of hickies in his wake. He nipped at her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. "Can you take more, mi amor?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're already shaking so much..."

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling with need. "Yes," she gasped, her nails raking down his back. "I need more, Carlos. Please, I can take it. I want it all."

Carlos grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "As you wish," he purred, his hand sliding down to palm her ass. "But first..."

He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep, claiming her, tasting himself on her lips. Y/n moaned into the kiss, her tongue tangling with his, her body arching into his touch.

Carlos' hand slid from Y/n's ass to her lower back, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on her skin. "The panties would look pretty with that buttplug I got you," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "You know, the one with the pink heart gem?"

Y/n nodded, a shiver running through her at the mention of the toy. "I was planning to use it soon," she admitted, her voice breathy with anticipation.

Carlos smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "It's such a shame though," he purred, his fingers dipping lower, teasing the cleft of her ass. "I already ripped the panties."

Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the touch. "Carlos," she whimpered, her voice a mix of need and frustration. "You're such a tease."

"All part of the fun, mi amor," he chuckled, his fingers continuing their maddening dance. "Now, where did I put that thing?"

Y/n pointed to the nightstand beside the bed. "I think it's in there," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Your side."

Carlos released her, rolling over to rummage through the drawer. He pulled out the pink heart-shaped buttplug, holding it up triumphantly. "Found it," he grinned, crawling back over to Y/n.

He ran the smooth metal over her lips, letting her taste the cold surface. "Open up, baby," he instructed, pressing the tip to her mouth. "Get it nice and wet for me."

Y/n parted her lips, taking the buttplug into her mouth. She sucked on it, her tongue swirling around the base, coating it liberally with saliva.

Y/n looked up at Carlos through her lashes, her eyes wide and innocent, the buttplug still nestled between her lips. She sucked on it slowly, sensually, her cheeks hollowing as she applied suction.

"Fuck, you're so cute," Carlos groaned, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight. "Such a good girl, getting your toy all wet for me."

He reached out, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her plump bottom lip. "That's enough, mi amor," he murmured, gently withdrawing the buttplug from her mouth. "Time to put it to better use."

Y/n whimpered softly, her eyes following the movement of the toy as Carlos positioned it at her entrance. He pressed the tip against her, applying gentle pressure, watching her face intently for any sign of discomfort.

Y/n moaned as she felt the cool metal of the buttplug pressing against her sensitive skin. Carlos watched her face intently, gauging her reaction as he slowly pushed the toy inside her.

"That's it, baby," he crooned, his voice low and encouraging. "Just relax and let it in. You're doing so well."

She continued to whimper, her hands fisting in the sheets as the buttplug stretched her, filling her in a way she hadn't experienced before. It was a strange sensation, but not an unpleasant one, and as Carlos twisted the base, the pink heart-shaped jewel nestled snugly between her cheeks.

"There," he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. "Don't you look pretty with your new toy."

Carlos helped Y/n onto her hands and knees, admiring the way her ass jutted out, the buttplug nestled snugly between her cheeks. He ran his hands over her curves, spreading her open, exposing her most intimate parts.

"Can I take a picture, mi amor?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. "I want to remember this moment forever."

Y/n hesitated, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Mhm," she murmured, nodding shyly. "But... but don't show anyone, okay?"

Carlos chuckled, pressing a tender kiss to the small of her back. "Of course not, baby," he assured her. "These pictures are for me and me only to enjoy."

He grabbed his phone, snapping a few shots from various angles, capturing Y/n in all her vulnerable, exposed glory. Each click of the shutter sent a thrill through him, the knowledge that he was the only one who would ever see these images, that he had her complete trust.

Carlos groaned, his eyes roaming over Y/n's exposed body. "Fuck, you're so pretty baby," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

He quickly shed his shorts and boxers, his hard cock springing free, bobbing between his legs. He moved behind Y/n, gripping her hips, holding her in place as he teased the tip of his cock against her entrance.

He rubbed it back and forth, catching on her clit with each pass, making her gasp and shudder. "Look at you," he purred, his fingers digging into her hips. "So wet and ready for me. I can't wait to be inside you."

Y/n whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more. Carlos chuckled darkly, continuing his maddening tease, keeping her on edge, making her ache for his touch.

She panted, her hips wiggling back against Carlos. "Carlos, I want more," she pleaded, her voice high and needy.

Carlos smiled, pushing just the tip of his cock inside her. Y/n moaned, her walls fluttering around him, trying to draw him deeper.

"That's it, baby," Carlos purred, reaching around to wiggle the buttplug. Y/n cried out, her body shaking as the toy shifted inside her, sending sparks of pleasure racing up her spine.

Even with just the tip inside her, Y/n was moaning like she was in a porno, her body responding to every touch, every tease. Carlos grinned, loving the effect he had on her, the way he could reduce her to a writhing, desperate mess with just a few well-placed touches.

Carlos grabbed a fistful of Y/n's hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail. "This pretty mouth of yours needs to shut up this time around, okay?" he growled, his voice low and commanding. "You were so loud earlier, we already had noise complaints last week because of you."

He reached for her ripped panties, balling them up and pressing them into her mouth. Y/n's eyes widened, a muffled whimper escaping her as he tied the fabric around her head, effectively gagging her.

"There," Carlos purred, admiring his handiwork. "Now you can scream all you want, and no one will hear you."

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against her entrance. With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, stretching her, filling her completely.

Y/n's muffled moan was music to his ears, her body clenching around him, welcoming him home.

Y/n's back arched as Carlos filled her, her fingers digging into the pillow in front of her. Despite the gag, her moans were still loud, her pleasure evident in the way her body moved, the way she rocked back against him.

"Shh, baby," Carlos chided, his hand coming down on her ass in a gentle spank. "Be quiet now."

He repeated the action, alternating cheeks, the sting of his palm mixing with the pleasure of his cock inside her. Y/n whimpered, her hips jerking with each impact, her moans muffled but no less intense.

Carlos grinned, loving the way she responded to him, the way she surrendered to his touch, his control. He continued his steady rhythm, pounding into her, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust.

Carlos looked down, groaning at the sight of Y/n's pussy, so wet and stretched around him. "Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby," he grunted, his hips snapping forward, driving into her harder.

His hand found the buttplug, wiggling it, teasing her. He pushed it halfway out, then twisted it, pushing it back in, making Y/n's body jerk and shudder.

"That's it, take it all," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock, take the plug, let me fill you up."

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling, torn between the pleasure and the slight discomfort of being so full. But Carlos didn't let up, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate, as he chased his own release.

Carlos cooed softly, his voice a stark contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. "So cute, baby," he murmured, reaching around to pinch Y/n's nipples, rolling them between his fingers. "You always look so pretty in pink."

He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, burying himself deep inside her. Y/n's body jerked, a muffled moan escaping her as the buttplug shifted, pressing against her walls.

Carlos grinned, loving the way she looked, the way she felt, the way she responded to him. He could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside her.

"Gonna cum," he grunted, his hips slapping against her ass as he chased his pleasure. "Gonna fill you up, baby. Fuck, you feel so good."

Y/n's body was weak, her muscles trembling with the effort of holding herself up, of taking Carlos' relentless thrusts. But fuck, it felt so good, the pleasure consuming her, overwhelming her senses.

She moaned around the panties in her mouth, the sound muffled but no less desperate, no less needy. Her pussy clenched around Carlos' cock, her walls fluttering, trying to draw him deeper, hold him closer.

Carlos could feel her tightening around him, could hear the desperation in her moans. He knew she was close, could feel her body tensing, preparing for release.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his hand snaking around to rub her clit. "Cum for me. Let go, let me feel you."

Y/n's body seized, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She shook and trembled, her moans rising in pitch, her pussy clamping down on Carlos' cock like a vice.

Carlos groaned, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. "Fuck, baby," he grunted, his cock pulsing inside her as he filled her with his cum. "You're taking it so well."

He collapsed over her, his chest pressing against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist. They stayed like that for a moment, both panting, both trying to catch their breath.

Slowly, carefully, Carlos pulled out, watching as his cum dripped from Y/n's pussy. He reached for the buttplug, gently removing it, tossing it aside.

"You did so good, mi amor," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/n turned in Carlos' arms, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I want more," she whispered, her eyes dark with desire.

Carlos grinned, his hand sliding down to cup her ass. "Anal?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Y/n bit her lip, nodding shyly. "Yes," she breathed, her body already trembling with anticipation. "I want to try it, with you."

Carlos' grin widened, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Are you sure, baby?" he asked, his tone gentle despite his eagerness. "We can take it slow, go at your pace."

Y/n nodded, her resolve strengthening. "I'm sure," she said, her voice steady. "I trust you, Carlos. I know you'll take care of me."

Carlos guided Y/n to sit on his lap, her back pressed against his chest, her legs spread wide. "I'll take the plug out," he murmured, his fingers trailing over her skin. "And I'll help you, every step of the way."

Y/n nodded, leaning back into him, trusting him completely. Carlos reached between her legs, his fingers finding the base of the buttplug. Slowly, gently, he pulled it out, the metal sliding free with a soft pop.

She moaned, her body clenching at the sudden emptiness. Carlos soothed her with soft kisses to her neck, his hands rubbing her thighs. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll go slow, just relax."

He reached for the lube, slicking his fingers generously. "Tell me if anything hurts, okay?" he said, his tone serious. "Your comfort is the most important thing."

Carlos circled Y/n's entrance with a slick finger, gently pressing in, breaching her slowly. Y/n whimpered, her body tensing at the unfamiliar intrusion.

"Breathe, baby," Carlos coached, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on her stomach. "Relax for me."

He worked his finger deeper, curling it slightly, searching for that special spot. When he found it, Y/n cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily.

"There," Carlos purred, rubbing the spot firmly. "Does that feel good?"

Y/n nodded frantically, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Yes," she gasped, her voice strained. "It's so intense, but so good- Fuck..."

Carlos added a second finger, stretching her slowly, preparing her for his cock. He scissored them, gently, carefully, watching her face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

Carlos continued his gentle ministrations, his fingers moving in and out of Y/n's tight heat, curling and stroking, finding all the sensitive spots that made her gasp and moan. He kissed her neck, her jaw, her lips, murmuring words of praise and encouragement.

"You're doing so well, baby," he whispered, his thumb brushing over her clit. "Taking me so perfectly. I'm so proud of you."

Y/n whimpered, her body trembling under his touch, under his words. She felt so full, so stretched, but it was a good ache, a pleasure she'd never known before.

Carlos could tell she was getting close, her walls fluttering around his fingers, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He doubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, harder, his thumb rubbing tight circles on her clit.

"Cum for me, mi amor," he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire. "Let go, let me see you cum"

Y/n's body seized, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She whimpered and moaned, her hips bucking wildly, her inner walls clamping down on Carlos' fingers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chanted, her voice high and breathy. "Oh god, Carlos, it's so much, it's too much-"

Her words dissolved into incoherent babble as the pleasure consumed her, her body shaking and trembling in Carlos' arms. He held her tight, his fingers still moving inside her, drawing out her climax, making it last as long as possible.

"That's it, baby," he crooned, his lips brushing her ear. "Ride it out, let it take you. You're doing so fucking well."

Carlos gently turned Y/n's face towards him, his eyes locked on hers. "Look down, baby," he instructed softly. "See? It's all the way in."

Y/n's gaze followed his, her eyes widening as she saw the slight bulge of Carlos' cock inside her, stretching her, filling her completely. "I feel so full," she whispered, her voice awestruck. "I can feel you everywhere."

Carlos grinned, his hands sliding up her sides, cupping her breasts. "That's because you're taking me so perfectly," he praised, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. "Every inch of you is wrapped around me, squeezing me, hugging me tight."

Y/n moaned, her hips shifting slightly, the movement sending sparks of pleasure racing through her. "It's so big," she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed. "But it feels so good, Carlos. So right."

Carlos couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Y/n riding him, her body moving with a wild abandon, her eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated lust. Her hair was a mess, falling gracefully over one shoulder, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her mouth open, drool leaking from the corner.

She was a vision, a goddess, and she was all his.

Carlos gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh, guiding her movements, helping her chase her pleasure. He watched as her body tensed, her walls clamping down around him, her moans rising in pitch.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Ride me, take what you need. Fuck, you look so beautiful like this, so perfect, so mine."

Y/n's body shook, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. She was close, so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Her body tensed, her movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," she gasped, her voice strained, her eyes wild with pleasure.

Carlos could feel her tightening around him, her walls fluttering, clenching, trying to draw him deeper. "Keep going, baby," he urged, his hips snapping up to meet her downward thrusts. "Let go, cum for me. I've got you, I'm right here."

Y/n threw her head back, a silent scream tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her. Her body shook, her pussy clamping down on Carlos' cock like a vice, milking him, trying to pull him over the edge with her.

Carlos groaned, his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside her. "Fuck, baby," he grunted, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna fill you up, fuck-"

As their orgasms crashed over them, Y/n's body spasmed, her movements becoming jerky, uncoordinated. She fell forward, her chest pressing against Carlos', her face nestling into the crook of his neck.

Carlos' arms wrapped around her, holding her close, his cock still buried deep inside her, throbbing with the aftershocks of his release. "I've got you, baby," he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I'm here, I'm right here."

They stayed like that for a long moment, their bodies joined, their hearts beating in sync. Carlos pressed soft kisses to Y/n's hair, her forehead, her cheek, murmuring words of love and praise.

"You did so well, mi amor," he whispered, his voice low and tender. "You took me so perfectly, gave me everything. I love you so much, Y/n. So fucking much."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii @livsturnioloo

kinktober taglist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf @lilorose25 @zestytimbit

[genderqueeradrien]

i have so many fics that i want to work on but i cant work on them all at once im going to throw my computer out a window

[gyuwoncheol]

Sir, Please.

Pair: Wonwoo x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut. 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Wonwoo doesn’t mind keeping you at the edge if it means watching you fall apart.

Warnings: Dom!Wonwoo, Sir! kink, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), squirting, clitoral stimulation, lots of making out, creampie, pussy slapping (like once), overstimulation, dacryphilia, breast play, wrist pinning, dirty talk, use of pet names (Sir, good girl, darling, love, baby, sweetie), glorious aftercare (Wonu is the best), fluff. Please let me know if i missed something. Not proofread, might come back to fix up errors.

WC: 3k

Author’s note: First smut piece for Wonwoo my love. This was only supposed to be post-sex cuddles fluff but thought it was the right time to finally write smut for my favorite boy. As is the plot of this piece, good things come to those who wait 😏 Enjoy!

Tagging fellow Wonu lovers @multi-kpop-fanfics @playmetheclassics for the chaos.

“What’re you doing?” Your boyfriend quizzed, your bare body still on top of his, a cheek resting against his bare chest.

“Doodling,” you mumbled casually as your finger continued to draw lazy patterns on his side.

“Darling, it tickles.”

“I don’t see you flinching.”

“You’re on top of me. If I flinch, you might fall.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You craned your neck to look up at him, flashing a wide grin momentarily, “then suffer.”

You shook along with Wonwoo as he laughed at your reply, a strong arm secured tightly around your torso, while his free hand cradled the back of your head.

A large smile was permanently etched on Wonwoo’s face as you both laid in comfortable silence. When he had collapsed onto you just minutes ago after reaching his climax, he had asked so nicely if he could stay inside a little longer and who were you to complain? You’ve craved for this kind of intimacy with him for awhile now after being both so busy with work.

“You’re lucky i love you,” Wonwoo declared as he kissed the top of your head.

You hummed in response, trailing your fingers again on his side, nails lightly scratching on his skin, “did you just write ‘i love you too’ on my ribs?” He laughs, and you nod an affirmative.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and snuggling more into your boyfriend’s chest. Now would be a good time for time to stand still. The setting sun casted warm hues of light inside your bedroom and while the airconditioning was cold, Wonwoo was radiating just the right amount of heat to keep you from shivering.

“I’ve missed you,” you blurted out.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed this,” another kiss was placed on top of your head, “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy.”

“I’m sorry too,” you sighed, resting your chin on his pecs to face him. “I wish i had more time to visit you in practice, or even just see you for lunch.”

“That’s okay, darling. We’re both just in our busy season. It will be over soon, yeah?” This time, Wonwoo’s palm was rubbing circular motions on the small of your back. “I was thinking we should go on a vacation when this all boils over.”

Your eyes grew wide, excited at your boyfriend’s suggestion, “really?”

“Yeah, maybe the countryside? Or out of the country? Where do you want?”

A blush crept up your cheeks at Wonwoo’s gesture of letting you choose, but honestly, you could’ve just stayed at your home and it would be okay. The last time you had a vacation, he made you choose the place too but this time, you didn’t really have a shortlist of destinations. You craned your neck to kiss his lips shortly, “surprise me?” You smiled shyly, “maybe somewhere peaceful and with fresh air? Anywhere as long as it’s with you is all I want, darling.”

“Okay, i’ll plan it out.” He confirmed before rolling you both over so his body hovered above yours

“Where are you going?” You pouted when he made a move to slip out of you.

“I need to clean you up, sweetie.”

You hooked a leg around his waist in retaliation, not at all ready to feel empty just yet. You attempted the most doe eyes you could muster, looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes and clenching your pussy as you did so, “Don’t you wanna fuck me one more time?”

Wonwoo scoffed at your question, the corner of his lips pulling into a devious smile at your sweet tone, “can’t get enough, darling?” His voice was lower by a few octaves, enough to send a shiver through your spine and a gush of wetness in your cunt.

“N-no, sir.”

Wonwoo smirked at the nickname before doing an experimental thrust. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he simply chuckled before dragging his cock out slowly and then swiftly burying himself to the hilt, rendering you even more speechless than you were. He could feel the rhythmic spasming of your walls, causing him to grow harder and harder.

You cupped his face to bring it closer to yours, kissing him and sucking at his lower lip. Wonwoo smiles in the kiss, amused at your neediness especially when he feels you lift your hips and roll them on his.

“Eager are we?”

“Wonuuu,” you whined pathetically, clawing at his back.

“Wonu?” he questioned with a glare, pinning you to the mattress agressively, “that’s not what you called me minutes ago, darlin’”

“Well, I don’t know where he went. Maybe if you give me what I want then I’ll start calling you it again,” you smirked, dragging your nails a little more harshly on his skin making him hiss.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, only to dive into your right breast and suck harshly at the bud, eliciting a loud moan from you. He snakes his hand in between you both, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, immediately feeling you clench around his dick again.He mutters something about you being responsive but it flies over your head as he picks up his pace. The slide is much easier given your mixed cum and your new arousal so it takes him record time to hit your sweet spot. Every ridge and vein on his cock drags against your walls in a way that’s more delicious than awhile ago.

“S-sir, pl-pleaasee,” you shake, the pit of your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Does my darling want to cum?” The nickname sounds sickly sweet as it rolls off his tongue and it only helps you get closer to the edge.

You nod your head repetitively, chants of ‘yes’s’ and ‘oh’s’ spilling from your lips, but then Wonwoo withdraws his hand from your sensitive bud and stills inside of you, a vice grip around your body as he licks the shell of your ear, “you don’t get to cum until I say so.” The words were loud, clear and firm, in a tone you knew all too well.

“But Won—“ you cry out loud, tears forming in your eyes as you feel your climax painfully float away.

“Nuh uh,” two harsh thrusts are delivered straight to your gspot as your boyfriend hooks one of your legs on his shoulder, “Call me wrong again and I will not let you cum at all.”

“Fuuuuck,” you mewl from the way his cock rams into you with the new angle, following it up with whines at the thought of getting no release, “S-sorry, sir! ‘M sorry!”

“There it is. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo mocks, “now be my good girl and hold it out for me, yeah?”

You’re a incoherent mess as you try to obey him, but it isn’t so easy when his large cock is abusing your sore, sloppy cunt. Words of filth pair each one of his powerful thrusts.

“My dirty little whore”

“So fuckin’ needy for my cock.”

“Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

“Your pussy is mine.”

“All made for me.”

You were letting out moans of pleasure as Wonwoo pounded into you mercilessly, the knot in your stomach making itself felt again.

“Fu– ah! Fuck, s-sir! Please!” You asked, but it only fell on deaf ears. Both your wrists were tightly pinned with just one of your boyfriend’s large hand above your head and his blown out pupils were looking right at you.

“Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum, please!!!” you begged shamelessly, voice shaking and legs closing in as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm.

“Not. Yet.” Wonwoo withdrew fully from your hole and you shrieked at the loss, your hips lifting to chase after his dick only to have it slammed down by his free hand.

“Sir!!!” You scowled, eyebrows scrunching and eyes wide, anger and pain washing away yet another failed orgasm.

A proud, lopsided smirk appeared on your boyfriend’s face. He licked his bottom lip, enjoying the torture he beset on you despite his painfully hard cock.

“What?”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, you knew that much.

“Nothing,” you cowered and blinked back your tears, erasing the anger in your face much to your dismay.

“Good girl.”

You swallowed thickly, squirming once more when Wonwoo tapped his heavy length on your pussy, coating himself with your slippery wetness— not that he needed any more of it— before purposely slapping your swollen clit with his angry red tip. The stimulation from that alone already had your toes curling and it took every fibre of your being to not just unravel right there.

You should’ve known calling him ‘sir’ would lead to this, but behind the tearful denials, you knew immense pleasure awaits.

“Siirrr, p-please! I n-need it.”

“Shhh. Patience, darling. We’ve got lots of time.” The demonic chuckle Wonwoo let out had you whimpering pitifully, your hands fighting to break free from his hold.

It seemed your boyfriend was hell bent on prolonging your agony when he simply continues to endlessly tap his shaft on your clit as he pumps himself.

Wonwoo was not usually loud in bed, save for his occasional grunts and broken groans when he falls into bliss. However, he’s decided now would be the perfect time to make matters all the more worse for you. He was being loud about it all, no holds barred. The squelching noises of his dick against your wet lips is now easily drowned out by the guttural moans Wonwoo has let slip past his mouth. You thought his dirty talk is music? Well, this was a symphony.

You had thought you wouldn’t get close this time around since he wasn’t inside you but the relentless knocks on your clit and the obnoxiously loud moans of your boyfriend have proved you wrong. Your hands balled into fists and you squeezed your eyes shut, mentally fighting off the ball of pleasure in your lower abdomen.

“Look at you, fighting so hard,” Wonwoo snickers, pressing down the tip of his cock to your clit in slow circular motions, “show me how good you are yeah?”

“Yes yes yes! ‘M good! Your good girl, promise!” You were so far gone, pliant to each one of your boyfriend’s requests.

“So wet, you’re soiling the bed,” he points out the obvious, “what a fuckin’ mess.” Wonwoo saw another shiver run through you, indicating you were seconds away from release. So for the third time that day, he denies you of the very thing you crave for, letting go of your wrists and then landing a sharp smack to your pussy before completely backing away to watch you spasm and curl up into a ball of needy tears and pathetic whines.

Your head was spinning and your senses were more than heightened. The slippery feeling of your arousal between your thighs were making it harder for you to squeeze them shut and stay still. Wonwoo simply loomed over you, giving you enough time to stabilize your breathing and let your failed orgasm ebb away. He knew that if he’d put so much just as one finger on your skin, you’d cum right away. Contrary to his actions, he wanted you to cum, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you cry for it first.

“S-sirr,” you sobbed.

A gentle touch carefully landed on your calf and when you didn’t flinch away, Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” your voice barely above a whisper, “n-need you…”

Whatever other words you had planned were swallowed by Wonwoo in a searing kiss. It was sloppy and messy, his skillful tongue darting to yours, teeth biting at your lips. You both moaned in unison when he impaled you on his cock once more.

“So big,” you groaned, initially amused at the delicious stretch until you realised, he’s had to hold off his own orgasm too.

Wonwoo gives it his all, jackhammering into you like it would be the last time. The sound of moans and skin slapping skin reverberate around the room. And then, there it is again, a coil so tight on your stomach, you fear you’re going delirious to the point of no return.

“Wo— Sir!” You quickly correct yourself, losing the least bit of dignity you had, tears drenching your cheeks, “i’m b-begging, p-please…”

The gentle kiss on your nose set a stark contrast from how his cock abused your sopping cunt, but relief finally took over you at the words whispered in your ear, “so good for me. Let go, baby. I got you.”

A strangled cry ripped out of your throat, your orgasm gloriously hitting you like a tidal wave. Wonwoo continued to talk you through it while holding down your convulsing body and slamming his hips into you, the sight of your pussy creaming his cock eventually producing broken moans from him.

“B-babe, too– ah! Too m-much!” More tears fell on your face as Wonwoo did deep snaps, his pelvic bone grinding on your clit.

“C’mon baby, m’ close. S-so close!”

Incomprehensible noises tumbled out of you when your boyfriend buried himself deep, pushing onto your sweetest spot and stilling there. Between his guttural groans, the perfect ‘O’ shape of his mouth and the thick loads of hot white cum that flooded your velvety walls, another coil snapped within you, a new round of arousal seeping out of your spent hole, except this time, much wetter and hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuuuck, darling,” Wonwoo trembled as the last of his nectar oozed out, “did I just make you squirt?”

“Fuck off,” you scowled, wishing you had more energy to wipe the smug look plastered on your boyfriend’s face.

“So I did?” Wonwoo pursed his lips and scrunched his nose, a look you very much love but absolutely hate right now.

You let your bottom lip jut out in a pout, your brows drawing to the center of your face, “how could I not when you edged me like that!”

“You’re cute,” was his only response, very slowly slipping his softening cock out of you. Your sweet boyfriend peppered kisses all over your face, replacing your frown with a smile. “Did I make you feel good, darling?” He asked genuinely, not wanting to ever subject you to something which you didn’t enjoy doing.

You gave him a shy nod, pulling him closer by his neck to close the gap between your mouths and share a loving kiss, much like how it was way earlier. It didn’t take long for you to part, your lungs still recharging to full capacity after having all the air knocked out of you.

Wonwoo gave you more time to recover, resting his head on the crook of your neck to leave soft kisses on your skin, especially on the blooming bruises he left in his wake.

“Darling, you can’t sleep yet,” he shook you gently when he noticed your prolonged stillness.

A small whine escaped your lips, “but Woo… i’m tired.”

“I know, i know,” he hushed softly, “but we need to get you cleaned up and also, change the sheets. I’ll make it quick.”

You had no time nor energy to protest. You were simply being carried bridal style into the bathroom, your boyfriend making sure you peed before he went on to wash up yours and his sweaty body with warm water. He was so so tender with his touch, especially in all parts between your legs. He’d keep an observant eye to every reaction your face made, careful not to cause any pain.

“Can… can you be mine?” you squeaked, and Wonwoo giggled at the drunken look of love on your face. Every time you think nothing can top sex with your boyfriend in your own little list of World’s Most Wonderful Things, you’re reminded that aftercare by him exists.

“Darling, i’m already yours,” Wonwoo chuckles.

You noded with a grin, brain really starting to drift off into slumber, “I like that.”

He fixes his glasses by the bridge of his nose after giving you a once-over, now dressed in cotton panties and one of his large navy blue shirts which hung mid-thigh on you.

Wonwoo lifts you up to sit on the bathroom counter before cupping your cheeks to meet your eyes, “baby, can you sit here and wait for me for about 10 to 15 minutes, please? I need to change our sheets.”

He had expected you to whine and retaliate, knowing you were always extra clingy after sex, but you simply nodded and smiled. You think you felt his lips on your forehead but you aren’t too sure.

The moment Wonwoo slips out of the bathroom, you’re fighting not to fall asleep, but 15 minutes is long, and maybe you can just lean your head a bit on the cold marble tile—

“Let’s get you to bed, love,” the tall man chuckles as he lifts you in his arms. You swore it hadn’t been fifteen minutes, not even ten! But then he walks past your bed and out of your shared bedroom. The light of the hallway enough to stir your brain awake.

“Where are we going?” You ask, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck as he cradles you into another room.

Wonwoo laughs at your question, “We have to take the guest bedroom for the night, darling. You’ve soaked through our mattress.”

[dorkszn]

COME AND GET THAT + logan howlett

SYNP — being home for the summer from school isn’t so bad. it isn’t so bad until your motorcycle stops working. and your dad tells you to call over the man that inspired you to get the bike in the first place and the closest one who could fix it, his best friend and your longtime crush, logan.

WARNINGS — masc reader, age gap ( no duh ), reader’s dad is kinda a dick, subbot reader, oral, petnames, logan’s a little mean, slight degradation, kitchen sex, hair pulling, eventual smut, porn with plot | 3.4K ( im sorry 😭 )

PART TWO ( coming soon )

Summertime. It’s such a wonderful time. You get out of school and can drive back to your hometown. You see your parents and siblings and get to flop onto the mattress of your old childhood bedroom.

But your favorite part? Getting to see your dad’s best friend, Logan. Who seems only to be getting hotter and hotter with each passing year. Only maybe you’re just getting more worked up and shy with every year that passes because each summer you can barely stand to look him in the eye or be alone in a room with him.

You’ve been home for about a week or two by this point, getting back into the comfort and schedule of your hometown life. Luckily but also somehow unfortunately, you have yet to see Logan since you returned. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know you’re home.

So imagine your surprise when you’re standing outside of your parent’s house with your dad, examining your sleek motorcycle that just wouldn’t start. You know how to do basic motorcycle care that of course, Logan taught you. He was the one who inspired and motivated you to get the damn bike anyways. So why were you surprised when your dad suggested calling him?

“Guess I’ll give Logan a call and see if he’s busy. He should know how to fix it,” your father says in a small sigh as he stands up straight.

“Wait, call Logan?” You repeat even though you know it’s dumb question and that you were just nervous to see him again since winter break.

“Yeah, Logan, you got a problem with that or something, squirt?” Your father responds slightly mockingly as he repeats your obviously odd question. You just grumble slightly under your breath.

“No, dad, just… go ahead and call em’,” you say in a sigh as the two of you stalk back towards the house. After that, it only takes half an hour before the inevitable and you see that familiar pickup pull into your driveway.

You reluctantly trail behind your dad like a clingy pup instead of a grown man to go greet Logan. You don’t miss the way he smirks with his signature cigar between his lips as he very slowly drags his eyes on your body.

“And when was I gonna find out my favorite college kid was home?” Logan asks gruffly, plucking the cigar from his lips with an outlet of smoke. His voice damn near sends shivers down your spine everytime you hear it.

You just opt for shrugging and giving him a casual smile. “Find out when you find out, I guess,” you say and of course, he lets out that little chuckle and snort that you love so much.

Logan puts his calloused, large hand out for you to greet him correctly only for him to grab your hand and pull you into him. You can’t help the small, very unmanly yelp that leaves you when he grabs you so suddenly. The smell of him hitting you so quick it damn near makes your mind spin. Cigars and ash and wood and leather and just him. Gosh, it almost drives you so crazy you barely notice the light headlock he put you in.

When you do finally notice, it definitely does not help the flare of heat in the pit of your stomach. You try to brush it off, tugging at his incredibly strong and veiny biceps with a small grin to pry him off of you. Finally, he releases you and you can’t help but take in a relieved breath.

“Still as much of a little shit as ever, kid,” Logan taunts, placing his cigar back between his lips. Lips that you wanted to feel on yours so bad. “You sure you ain’t getting smaller with each year?”

You roll your eyes for the second time that night. He knew you weren’t getting smaller. It just seemed like he was getting bigger even at his grown age. And damn, is he big. 6 feet 2 inches and 205 pounds of pure muscle. “Yeah, I’m sure, Logan,” you end up mumbling in response as you stuff your hands in your pockets.

Logan just chuckles again. “Yeah, okay,” he responds sarcastically. With another puff of smoke, he looks to your father then your bike. “So, what’s the problem, Bub?” He inquires.

You trail your father as he walks Logan over to your motorcycle. The same model he recommended years ago. You barely listen as your father explains the situation to his best friend, your eyes stuck to the man in the red flannel.

“Looks like you just need an oil change, kid. And your fuel filters clogged,” Logan says in a small grunt as he stands from his kneeling position next to your bike.

“Damn, squirt, you can’t tell when you need an oil change?” Your dad questions, pinching the bridge of his nose. You frown slightly and your brows furrow.

“I just didn’t notice, okay?” You grumble in reply.

Your father sighs before looking back at Logan. “Could ya fix it, Howlett?” Your father questions, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah, could change the oil if the kid wants. The fuel filter, on the other hand, you’re gonna have to replace the part. I’m assuming you don’t just got one layin’ around here,” Logan explains and he dusts his palms off.

“Perfect. Time for the kid to learn to do something for himself,” your father says with a grin of mock-approval. Oh, how you wish your mother was here instead. Logan just lets out a small chuckle that seems just a little bit forced. “Well, I gotta head off to work. Help Logan out, will ya? Get him whatever he needs or asks for.” Your father sighs to you.

He’s going to leave? The two of you? Alone? Does he actually want you to pass away? “Yeah, dad, I got it,” you say to cover up the way your heart almost immediately started racing. Then it was only minutes later before you were watching your father pull out of your driveway and zip down the street, leaving just you and Logan.

Logan turns to you and damn you could almost feel the way he looked at you. You nervously pull your eyes away from the street and to Logan who offers you his usual smirk when you look at him. “Get me your old man’s box, will ya?” He requests.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmur before turning and walking back towards the house to get your dad’s toolbox. And are you being paranoid or is he definitely watching you walk away?

You eventually come back with your dad’s toolbox in hand. Logan turns to you when he hears your footsteps despite them being damn near silent. He’s always so astute and aware. It scares you and somehow turns you on at the same time.

“Atta boy,” Logan says as he takes the box from you and holds it like it weighs nothing more than a bottle of water. “Thanks, kid.”

Atta boy. Gosh, what would you give to hear him say that again. “Yeah, no problem,” you respond. You can’t help but watch him for a few minutes before turning and walking back towards the house. Your father would definitely force you to stay and watch Logan so you could “actually do something right.” But thankfully and also unfortunately, he isn’t there and Logan could care less.

And for the next 45 minutes, you spend your time inside trying to distract yourself from the man outside. The man you were home alone with. You leave the door ajar just in case he needs anything which of course he doesn’t. He’s just that good, right?

You lean against your kitchen counter, feeding your cat, James, a blonde cat who is somehow more accident prone than you are, blueberries. Your mind is practically running on autopilot out of boredom. But you’re acutely aware of the sound of the front door opening and shutting. As well as the heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

Logan turns the corner, his flannel gone, leaving him in just a tanktop and jeans. A tanktop that practically put all of him on display. The muscles and veins in his arms, the firmness of his chest. Specifically that vein on his right biceps that runs all the way down to his forearm.

There’s a few oil marks staining his skin, on his neck and arms and chest. A little on his cheek. How the hell did he get that dirty? Hell, not like you’d know. You hardly touch the inside of that motorcycle, willingly.

His dog tags hanging perfectly in between his pecs. How you would love to trade places with those things right now. “S’all done, Bub,” Logan tells you as he steps further into the kitchen.

“Right, yeah, thanks,” you say, reluctantly stopping your ogling to grab him a water from the fridge. Logan flicks his hands as he finishes washing them and takes the water from you. He leans against the counter across from you.

“How’s college treatin’ ya?” He inquires, watching as you feed James another piece of fruit.

“It’s okay, nothing special. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice school but it’s not like it’s Ivy League or anything,” you answer in a small shrug as you pop a blueberry into your own mouth. Logan can’t help but watch your lips and throat as you do so. His eyes shamelessly trained on you.

“Well atleast you got somethin’ going for ya,” Logan murmurs, finally looking away as he folds his arms over his chest. “Got a boyfriend waiting there too?” He asks. You give him a look. He chuckles. “Or a girlfriend.” Logan adds.

You just roll your eyes which contrasts the smile on your face. “Answers no to both,” you answer, watching James pluck the blueberry from your fingers. And Logan feels a little too happy to see that little smile on your face again.

“Really?” Logan replies, raising a brow in response. “Those little college kids to stupid to see what’s in front of em’ or something?”

You look over to him and see his little eyebrow raise, a quiet snort leaving you. “I don’t know. I just don’t talk to people like that. Hard to be seen when you’re acting invisible, y’know?” You say nonchalantly.

“Gotta put yourself out there one day, Bub,” Logan sighs. “Can’t keep comin’ back to this place and just hoping for it.” You watch him as he speaks and you can’t help the way your eyes repeatedly drop down to the soot on his muscles. You gotta get those stains off before you go nuts.

“It’s more of a choice than anything,” you tell him as you turn and grab a clean rag from one of the lower cabinets. Logan’s sharp eyes follow you as you move around the kitchen. “People there just don’t really “impress” me.” You add as you wet the rag with warm water.

“Oh, boys there ain’t good enough for you, huh?” Logan questions teasingly, that grin returning to his face. You step in front of him and hold out the damp rag to him. Logan silently gestures to his skin in response.

You swallow and suddenly, your heart is beating a million beats a minute. Your eyes fall from his to his chest and neck as you slowly reach the rag to his skin. “Nah,” you finally answer lowly as you begin to gently scrub at his skin. “All the way in university and still ain’t mature enough.” You mutter, watching the oil stains fade away under the rag.

Logan’s eyes are low as he looks down at you, his eyes trained on your face and lips as you speak and wipe him down. “Oh right, not mature enough f’ya,” Logan murmurs. “Need an older guy to take care of you… don’t ya?”

Your hand pauses on his chest and your eyes move back up to his. A swirl of desire and need mixing in his dark eyes. His gaze alone almost makes you shutter. “Yeah… think I do,” I say in a slightly hoarse whisper.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a barely there breath and raise the rag, going to swipe at some of the stains on his cheeks. Your heart almost stops in your chest when he grabs your wrist instead. His other hand comes up to grab your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

“And what would your old man think about that, huh?” Logan questions lowly, his breath fanning your lips. You part your lips to answer but your words get caught in Logan’s rough lips. Your whole body tenses up for a moment before immediately melting into him.

You let him hold you, you let him push you back into the other counter behind you. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of his earlier cigar still lingering. But it only serves to make you weaker. You groan into his mouth as his large hand suddenly slips from your wrist to your crotch, squeezing you through your sweatpants.

“School got you all pent up, yeah?” Logan asks in a huff of a breath as he just barely pulls away from your lips. Once again, he steals your lips before you can answer. Palming you through your sweatpants while his tongue explores every inch of your mouth.

He’s not wrong. It’s been just you and your hand for months now. And somehow Logan just barely touching you through your sweats is better than any night of you fucking your fist.

You can’t help but whine into his mouth when he pulls away, his hand running over your hips and waist instead. But the feeling of him pressing himself against you in his jeans quickly silences your whines. His half-erect cock grinding against your as he rolls his hips. Logan pulls back in a low groan, a thin shiny string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips.

“Been thinking ‘bout you since winter, Bub. Y’know that? Pretty ass been on my mind for fucking months,” Logan says to you in a heavy breath as he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip. You just look up at him, still in slight shock at it all but your mind falling prey to the pleasure and want.

“What? You wanna do something about that?” You question quietly, your voice not matching your smug and suggestive words.

Logan smirks down at you a bit. “Damn right,” he answers, his hand on your chin shifting to your hair as he grabs a fistful of it and tilts your head to the side. His hips rolling against your again as he sinks his teeth into neck. His name falling from your lips in a whimper.

Your hand subconsciously falls to his belt, weakly trying to still his hips against yours which of course doesn’t work. Logan pulls his teeth from your neck while simultaneously guiding your hand down from his belt to the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Feel that, pretty boy? Feel what you’re doing t’me?” Logan mutters against your bruising skin. And you do feel him. A lot of him. It made you lose your breath further while shooting sparks of further arousal to your gut. “Wanna help me out, Bub? Little favor for changin’ your oil?” He requests as he sucks at your flesh, hungrily and greedily.

You move almost immediately to your knees. Breath shaking as he backs up just a bit to look down at you. A devilish grin covering his face. “Well, aren’t you just an obedient little thing,” he comments as one of his hands finds his belt, the other still in your hair.

Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch his belt unbuckle, as he unbuttons his jeans and zips them down. Your mouth damn-near watering as he tugs down his pants and boxers just enough for his dick to spring free. And oh, your jaw is going to be aching for hours.

“Look at you, all cock-thirsty. Nobody been givin’ you any attention, huh?” Logan says as he pumps himself a few times, gently guiding your head to his already leaking tip. He doesn’t have to ask before you part your lips. Maybe it was a little pathetic how quickly you dropped for him. But you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You let him sit himself on your tongue and he just basks in the view. A bit of his pre dripping onto the pink muscle. That sight alone pushed him further, pushing his hips forward until he was almost buried in your throat to the hilt. “Damn, pretty boy, you done this before or something?” Logan groans before he’s moving.

His hand in your hair keeping your head still as he begins fucking your throat. You try to keep the tears from glossing up in your eyes as he hits the back of your throat but you can’t. He doesn’t mind.

“Fuck, how has nobody claimed this perfect throat yet? Taking me so fucking well,” Logan grunts, staring right down into your glossy eyes. You let out a choked whimper around him in reply, the vibrations of the sound going straight to Logan’s cock, making his eyes fall shut as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Right, can’t answer with your mouth full of dick, can you?”

Another muffled whimper which results in him tugging on your hair. “Guess your old man was wrong, huh?” Logan pants over the sound of his balls lewdly hitting your chin, a mix of his pre and your own drool slicking the skin. “You did learn to do somethin’ useful. Damn good cock-sucker.”

Your hands hold onto his thighs as he repeatedly stuffs your face to the hilt, his fat tip kissing the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his skin through his jeans only for his eyes to roll in response. A hoarse and gruff “oh fuck” slipping through his teeth. “Been doing this for those college boys? That how you brought your little grade back up?” Logan questions roughly as he looks down to you.

Such a pretty sight you are. Eyes watering, lashes glistening, mouth full, and your lips a wet mess of your fluids.

“Mmm,” your denial doesn’t leave as words, just muffled choked sounds. A small smirk grows on Logan’s face.

“No? Ain’t that a shocker. You’d— shit— you’d make some good fucking money. Sucking cock for cash, clearly doesn't take much to get you to anyways,” Logan says, almost taunting you with his words. Taunting how fast you got on your knees for him.

You can only respond by pressing your tongue flaccid against his cock, feeling his veins pulse over the muscle. Only for him to tug on your hair when you swirl your tongue over his tip. “Fine by me,” Logan says, his voice breaking into a breathy moan. “Pretty little throat is all mine.”

You feel your own hard-on twitch in your pants at that. The idea of being all his. Even if it’s just for the summers and winters. Logan doesn’t miss the way you take him in more greedily, the way you keep letting him glide across your tongue, the way your breathing just barely steadies when you finally find a rhythm.

“Yeah? You like that idea, Bub? Being all mine?” Logan says strained, the snap of his hips growing sloppy and stuttering. All you can do is let out a muffled groan around him, staring up at him with your big eyes as the tears finally slip over. They only worsen their streams as Logan pushes your head down, giving you hardly any room to breathe as his cock twitches and he cums down your throat.

He doesn’t let you go until you’re digging your nails into his thighs again and he finally lets go of your hair. You pull away and practically gasp for the breath you lost. Coughing and heaving and sniffling as dribbles of his release rolling down your chin, followed by your tears.

“You okay down there, Bub? Too much?” Logan asks as he chases his own breath.

“No, no, i—i'm okay,” you manage to get out as you wipe at the tears and your slick chin. Logan’s low eyes drop to the tent in your sweatpants between your legs. His eyes then pull back up to yours.

“What time does your old man get off?”

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[sky-scribbles]

I'm going to say something controversial. I think there's something Veilguard does better than any other Dragon Age game. Namely: incorporating the companions into the plot.

Look, I love Origins as much as everyone. But to be frank: you could cut every companion except Alistair, Morrigan and Loghain and the plot could still work. Once you've finished the mission where you recruit a companion, there aren't other main quests that involve them in any way.

Oghren and Wynne could have stayed home after their recruitment missions for all the difference it would make to the main plot. Sten, Leliana and Zevran could vanish and nothing would change, because once they're on your team, they don't interact with the main plot at all. (There's the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I suppose - but even then, you'd be going on that quest whether Leliana and Wynne were there or not, and it's very telling that they can both die here and next to nothing in the rest of the game is impacted.)

Again: I love Origins. This doesn't detract from any of these characters being great, or from the story being great. It just means there's a layer of separation between the two. They're involved in the story, but they're not driving it, and you seldom get to see them have strong feelings about it.

DA2 is a huge step up. Your companions' personal stories are integral parts of the main plot. You can't do the Deep Roads expedition without witnessing Karl's death and its impact on Anders. You can't enter Act 2 without seeing Varric's brother betray him, or watching your sibling either die or begin a new path in life. Act 2's climax happens because of choices Isabela and Aveline have made. Act 3's endgame is all about Anders making one enormous decision. Even Fenris and Merrill, who have the fewest ties to the plot, have strong reasons to be invested in the Mage/Templar conflict.

And then Inquisition just... backslides. There are multiple companions you don't need to recruit at all, or can send away with zero alteration to the main plot. Your companions don't like Corypheus because he's bad, but no one - except maybe Varric - has any strong personal feelings about him. They have no personal stake in defeating him, not like Alistair has a personal stake in opposing Loghain, or Anders in opposing Meredith.

We go to the Winter Palace, and Vivienne is not made a part of that story. We have a whole subplot about the Wardens, and Blackwall only gets a couple of extra lines, if you even bring him. Their personal arcs could have been somehow impacted by these missions, and they're just... not. Sera is packed with internalised self-hatred that manifests as trying to distance herself from elven culture, to the point of sometimes lashing out at other elves. And despite all the missions you do where elven history features... Sera's growth past that flaw happens entirely offscreen between the base game and Trespasser?????

IMO, this is one of the biggest reasons why Corypheus is such a bland villain. He doesn't make anyone grow, except by starting a plot for them to be part of. He doesn't challenge them emotionally. No one is invested in him. Because no one interacts with the darn plot.

Veilguard, though? Veilguard keeps your companions interacting with the story the whole way through. The Treviso/Minrathous choice affects both Lucanis and Neve heavily, and impacts who they become for the rest of the game. These cities are personal to you, even if you're not a Crow or Shadow Dragon, because your companions love them.

The Siege of Weisshaupt is beyond personal to Davrin and Lucanis, both of whom are entrusted with major parts of the quest: trying to kill the archdemon and Ghilan'nain. Lucanis is affected by his failure to kill Ghilan'nain for ages afterward. Davrin is haunted by survivor's guilt; he should have died when he struck down the archdemon. He's alive. How can he live with that?

Whenever killing the gods becomes a possibility, Rook hands the lyrium dagger to Lucanis. When the squad go to fight the gods' dragons with the Wardens, Taash is the one to flush the first dragon out. When you infiltrate the Venatori, Neve tricks your way in, and everything that happens is especially weighty to Bellara, whose people have been abducted. On Tearstone Island, because of how Lucanis and Spite have grown, they strikes true.

Did you not hate Elgar'nan before that mission? Because you probably will after you watch him capture Bellara or Neve, and see his fellow god kill Harding or Davrin.

You know what's a great piece of writing? There's no reason Emmrich shouldn't have been an option to deal with the wards on Tearstone Island; he's one of the ideal options to take out more wards with the Veil Jumpers in the final mission. But you can't select him to do it. Because Emmrich has far less personal investment in the Elgar'nan battle than the other two. This is Neve's city. This is the monster who tries to call himself Bellara's god. The game makes sure the characters who take control of the Blight at the end are the ones with the greatest stakes in doing so.

One of your companions, not you, wrests command of the Blight from Elgar'nan. The final mission depends on how well you've come to know each companion's skills. They're just... always involved.

And they're invested, too. The companions all have serious personal reasons to hate the antagonists by the end. Lucanis and Neve have either seen their city burn, or know it happened at the cost of their friend's (and potential partner's) hometown. Davrin has seen his order devastated. These are Bellara's and Davrin's supposed gods, and instead of helping the elves reclaim their history and culture, they're trying to enslave the world. Harding learns that the Evanuris maimed and destroyed her Titan ancestors.

Emmrich and Taash have perhaps the smallest emotional tie - and sadly I do think Emmrich especially gets underutilized in the plot. But heck, Taash is still hella motivated by the way the gods are abusing dragons. And Emmrich is tied thematically to the main conflict. He's facing the question of immortality, while nigh-immortal beings are right in front of him, proving how that gift can be abused. The final choice of his personal arc is whether he's willing to embrace his personal, mortal attachments, at the cost of consequences that terrify him... you know, the same question that Solas faces at the end.

And don't even get me started on how everyone is emotionally tied to Solas. Harding and Neve watched him kill Varric in front of them. Everyone not dead or captured has to watch him drag Rook into the Fade. Just about every companion faces some kind of huge regret or failure at some point, in constant foreshadowing for Solas's prison of regret: both the literal one he sticks Rook in, and the mental one of his own making.

Veilguard has its problems, but it absolutely shines at keeping its characters involved and invested in the main story. It gives them things to do, it gives them reasons to care. For all the flaws this game has, this part is good writing.

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[byeoltoyuki]

Yeah, I hate you too

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre: porn with little plot, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff, fake texts

❧ Words: +3k

❧ Warnings: fingering, sexting (kind of), anal, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, spanking, masturbation, mention of toys

❧Summary : They think you're dating. Wrong. How could you date someone you hate so badly? Right?

❧ A/N: I wrote this on a whim and definitely didn't have time to proofread it, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. Hope you enjoy it either way!

***

“Where’s Jisung?” Changbin asked as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the empty spot beside him. Empty spot because it took Jisung only five minutes to find something better to do than be with his friends.

You shrugged, indifferent. “How would I know?”

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

Now that was confusing. “I’m not.” You scoffed at the idea.

You barely tolerated each other. The only reason you had been cordial, at best, with him was because he was Felix’s friend. The said man shook his head which only fuelled your annoyance. “What?” You took a sip of your drink to try to drown your annoyance and uneasy feeling.

Felix shook his head but the smug smile remained. The little shit. “Nothing.”

“You have this look!” You pointed at his face as if he had personally offended you. Well maybe a little. Nobody should be allowed to look this pretty.

“What look?”

“Felix.”

“Y/N.”

God, you loved your friend, you really did but he knew how to annoy the hell out of you. “What.is.it?”

Felix’s eyes shone brightly. And with mischief. He leant closer, arm brushing yours. “It’s cute how you think I don’t know about you and Jisung.” And he winked. The audacity.

You gasped loudly. “I’m not dating him!”

It wasn’t your intention to say it so loud and attract Changbin’s attention back on you. He quirked a brow at you and also leant closer, obviously interested in your statement. Fuck.

Felix’s smirk only widened. “Never said anything about dating.”

Fine. You had lied. You had a situationship with Han Jisung. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he annoyed you eighty percent of the time. But he sure knew how to use his mouth. And tongue. And cock. He got you addicted and you hated him even more for that.

Before you could share a piece of your mind with Felix, your phone’s screen lit. It distracted you. So easily.

At his message, you almost dropped your phone. Count on Han Jisung to be this blunt. But then again, it probably was one of the reason you gave in so easily the first time he approached you.

His words alone brought back the same images you had been trying so hard to forget. Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes and still unforgettable. It was one of those nights; you were stressed with deadlines and loneliness was getting the best of you too. But then Jisung came to your place without notice, as if he owned the place, and disturbed all your plans at self-loathing. You tried of course to kick him out of your place, kicking and screaming – all he did was throw you over his shoulder and slap your ass strong enough to make you yelp in surprise. He brought you to your room and threw you on your bed. You weren’t even in the mood for sex, no matter how good it always was with him, but the look he had when he stared down at you set your body on fire.

Did he spend hours, or at least it felt like hours, nestled between your legs, feasting on you, marking you, teasing you till you were just a whimpering mess at his mercy, crying and writhing, begging for a release he wasn’t willing to give because you weren’t being nice to him. Absolutely. You hated how responsive your body was to him. Hated how he knew where to push, where to lick, where to suck, where to bite to make your toe curl, to bring tears to your eyes, to make you scream his name. He loved it, so bad, when you screamed his name.

When Jisung finally let you come, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t see and your body were spent. You didn’t think you would recover from such a powerful, mind-blowing orgasm. You told him so, knowing damn well how smug he would be, how pleased.

“What got into you?” You asked him, panting. You watched him remove his clothes, one by one, taking his sweet time. It was odd. He never took his time. Han Jisung was impatient and too eager ninety-five percent of the time. So why now?

Jisung’s smile turned wicked which set your alarms on alert. He was up to something. Something bad. And also probably incredibly delicious. But could you really do it? You tried to move your legs and winced.

Jisung crawled back on the bed, slowly, enjoying the view of your sweaty body, and all the marks he had left on your thighs. Such a beautiful woman and all for him to ravish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“And how is it my fault?” You scoffed and tried to sound unfazed. Your body disagreed. Your stomach flipped, excited.

Jisung hovered over you, his body trapping you under him, lips dangerously close yours but still not touching while his hand, his damn hand, slid slowly from your breasts to your stomach. Feather-like touches that sent shivers down your spine. But his hand didn’t stop on your stomach, it travelled to your abused, still incredibly sensitive pussy; your hips jerked in response and a small whine left your lips.

“No.” You tried to move your body to escape his touch.

But Jisung only smiled. “No? Hmm.” He teased your clit despite your protest and you grabbed his arms, digging your nails into his skin. “And it is your fault. I couldn’t erase the image of you flirting with this dude from the bar. He was awfully touchy with someone that isn’t his.” And he couldn’t resist the urge: he gave your pussy a slap. Strong enough to make you yelp in surprise, but not strong enough to hurt you.

You couldn’t believe he was being possessive. Was it the same guy you had been butting heads with for the past two years? Was it the same guy that begged you one night to let you eat you out because you looked too gorgeous in a red silky dress? “He wasn’t that touchy.” You tried to defend yourself even if he was right. He had been too touchy which had earnt him a kick in his balls later but Jisung didn’t need to know that. You wanted to see how far he was ready to go to show you who you belong to.

But Jisung saw right through you. With his free hand he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “Yeah? He touched this,” And his hand reached your ass. He gave it a strong squeeze before landing a first slap. You didn’t think you could get any wetter but you fucking did. “And this ass belongs to me, Y/N. You know it right?”

You were dying to say ‘no’, you didn’t belong to him and your ass certainly didn’t. But all your fire, all your protests died on your tongue when you felt his fingers dangerously close to your other hole.

“I believe this is the only place I haven’t claimed, right?” He hummed in satisfaction.

“Jisung,” You called for him, but why? You couldn’t tell whether you were scared to try something new or if you were excited. Probably both. “I-“

His fingers slid back to your dripping pussy. He gathered your juices and spread them around your other hole. He pushed a finger inside your ass and you gasped loudly. “Oh my god.” You mewled, shutting your eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. It felt weird and new. And so fucking good.

“I knew you would love it.” He chuckled. “Always knew you would let me completely defile you, wouldn’t you?”

And he added another finger, pushing slowly, filling you, stretching you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You couldn’t possibly survive this. But you definitely wanted it. “Yes.” You admitted.

Jisung chuckled as his fingers worked their magic. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck your pretty, little ass.”

“Please,” You begged.

He pulled out his fingers, leaving you empty and open. “And?”

You took a deep breath, realizing that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted unless you said those damn words. “Please Jisung, fuck my ass. I need it. Right. Now.”

Jisung snickered and flipped you with ease on your stomach. “Was it that hard?”

“Yes, asshole.” You managed to snap back.

Jisung only laughed at your weak attempt to fight back. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. “Such a nasty mouth.” He gave your ass another strong slap. “I’ll fuck it later too.”

‘As if!’ You wanted to say. But you felt his cock pressing to your hole. You sucked in a breath, tensing.

Jisung stroked your ass, trying to sooth you. “Relax, babe.”

Even if your mind wanted to fight him, your body obeyed.

He pushed slowly, inch by inch, struggling to control himself but despite his own needs, he kept a close eye on you, watching your every breath, your every wince. He wanted this experience to be enjoyable for you too and he knew you would love it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You didn’t think you could stretch anymore. You didn’t think you could ever feel this full. But it was exactly how you felt.

With one last thrust, he pushed all the way in. He groaned and closed his eyes to savour the feel of you around his cock. So tight, so nice, so pretty.

You fisted the sheets, needing something to hold on to. Or to destroy.

He pulled out slowly only to push back in. “Fuck babe, you feel so fucking good. So good I could die. Fuck.”

Jisung took his time with you, his thrust slow and as gentle as possible. It hurt and you squeezed the sheets tightly. But it also felt divine. Quickly, you found yourself wanting more, needing more, to relieve the itch. So you pushed back and he smiled in delight.

“Someone is excited.” He commented.

You were and you didn’t care anymore. “Show me what you can do, pretty boy.” You provoked him.

Jisung halted and hovered over your back. His warm breath caressed your cheek and then your ear. “Remember that you asked for it.” And he slammed hard into you, picking up his pace.

“Shit.” You moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

Jisung showed you no mercy. Every thrusts shattered and remade you. Every thrusts brought pleasure unknown to you. You didn’t think you could feel this good. You didn’t know if it had anything to do with Jisung and you didn’t care anymore. You took everything he gave you; every push of his cock, every groan, every dig of his fingers into your skin.

Jisung’s fingers slid to your clit and you almost collapsed at the new sensation. His thrusts along with his fingers playing with your clit brought you to the edge quicker and with so much strength. You barely registered when your body tensed and completely let go. You simply split apart with a sharp cry, waves of pleasure wrecking your body.

“Such a good girl.” Jisung didn’t stop. He used your body to seek his own climax. “And I can’t fucking get enough of you. I hate you for that.” But you barely heard him, still lost to your own pleasure. “Fuck, fuck.” Jisung came with a loud groan, pulling out to paint your ass with his release.

Fuck. You clenched your thighs tightly at the unwanted memory. You squeezed your phone tightly in your grip as if it had personally offended you. Your face flushed and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t supposed to get all horny in the middle of the bar. You weren’t supposed to let Jisung affect you so badly. But boy you were.

You tried to save yourself with this message. The bar wasn’t crowded and the lights were dimmed. There was no way he could see your state or your blush. Right?

Fuck. Your panties were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You were wet. Too fucking wet. You could ignore Jisung’s messages and suggestions, it was hella tempting since he was the one responsible for your state. Or you could leave and take care of your little problem without inviting him. That would piss him off and serve him right. You liked this plan better.

“I’m leaving.” You told Felix as you got back on your feet and readjusted your dress.

Felix eyed you with a cocked brow. “Why? You just go there.”

Something told you that whatever excuses you come out with, Felix wouldn’t believe you. Not when he was smirking like that. He knew something but you refused to delve into the matter. Nope. Not tonight. Not when your body was on fire. Not when your pussy was clenching desperately. “I’m tired.” You said and grabbed your bag.

“Tired.” Felix repeated your words with a poor imitation of your voice. “Sure thing, sweet. See you later.”

***

By the time you got to the safety of your home, your mind was plagued with images of Jisung between your legs. You couldn’t believe that your brain would think of him when you could have pictured anyone, anything. But you didn’t fight back those thoughts. You didn’t have time nor the will. Your body was too needy.

You took your heels and threw them somewhere on the ground. You hurried to get rid of your dress and your, now, completely ruined panties. I’ll make him pay another time. You threw yourself on your bed and readjusted your pillows to get as comfortable as possible.

A deep sigh of relief escaped your parted lips. Finally. You closed your eyes, Jisung’s face immediately invaded your thoughts and you let him. You let the image of him guide your hand to your breast and to your hard nipples that were begging for attention. You squeezed and pinched and let out small moans. You relaxed instantly, revelling in the different sensations.

You let your hand slid slowly from your breast to your stomach, drawing invisible circles on your skin before reaching between your legs, the place that most needed your attention. You took it slow; gentle rubs, circling your clit, letting the pleasure spread all over your body. Your fingers slipped inside your soaked pussy and you arched your back, imaging that it wasn’t your fingers but the most annoying person’s ones.

“Fuck.” You mewled.

“Now that’s a sight I’m not ready to ever forget.” Jisung’s annoying (sweet) voice interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes snapped open and you almost jolted out of your bed. “What the fuck?!”

No. He couldn’t possibly be there. How could he?  Were you that tired that somehow you started hallucinating? But no, as you looked at him standing by your door, licking his lips, his eyes darker than ever, you realized that he was not a piece of your imagination. “What, how?”

Jisung twirled the keys to your place and smirked. “Spare keys.”

You frowned, your dizzy mind having a hard time to catch up with his words. “I didn’t give you the spare keys to my place.”

Jisung nodded. “No. you didn’t.” He put them back in his pocket, proud of the effect he had on you. His eyes quickly slid to your spread legs and you realized too late that he had a perfect view of the mess you were. “Felix gave me the keys.”

The little shit! You knew he was up to something. You would make sure to make him pay later for not minding his damn business.

“Don’t be so angry, babe.” Jisung cooed, reading your emotions so easily. “Instead, show me how you play with yourself, hm?”

The ache between your legs returned so quick it almost knocked you out. This man and his voice had such a strong hold on you. You couldn’t help but obey and forget all about your annoyance.

“Tell me, what were you imagining while having your fingers inside this sweet pussy, hm?” Jisung asked as he watched your fingers disappear inside you. He licked his lips, drooling at the beautiful sight. He wanted nothing more than replace your fingers with his and with his tongue but for once, he fought his own needs. He grabbed the chair in the corner of your room at put it right before your bed so he could have the best view.

“You.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. “And what exactly was I doing in your imagination?”

“You were sucking on my clit with those pretty lips of yours while your fingers were stretching me nicely.”

“Shit.” Jisung groaned to himself. He could imagine it so easily. He unzipped his jeans and took out his hard cock dripping already with pre-cum. Jisung fell into rhythm with you, matching your energy as he worked his hand around his cock. “Add another finger.”

And you obeyed. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did once again. You moaned at the sight. You didn’t think watching Jisung touch himself would fuel your own desire, your own pleasure but it did. You almost came right on the spot.

But the itch was still there. No matter how hard you played with yourself you were still unsatisfied. You couldn’t reach as deep as he could. “Jisung. Please. I need you.”

Jisung chuckled. “Do you now? I think you’re doing pretty well on your own.” But truth was, he needed you too. So fucking badly. He needed, desperately, to sink his cock inside your pussy. He needed to feel your walls around his cock, squeezing him, begging for more.

“Am not. I need you. Please.” You begged shamelessly. You took out your fingers and spread your pussy for him to see. “Look. I need you.”

Jisung gulped, his willpower slowly crumbling. How could he resist now? “Me? Or my cock?”

“Both. Please?”

Jisung ruffled his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He left his spot, hurried to take all of his clothes and almost jumped on your bed. He grabbed your legs with so much strength, you yelped in surprise. He spread you wider for him. He let his fingers slid from your clit to your entrance, testing how wet you were. “Babe, you’re dripping. All for me?”

“All for you.”

“So pretty.” He took his cock and nudged it playfully against your pussy, making you mewl and push your hips in need. “And mine.” He plunged inside you with one powerful thrust that made the two of you groan.

You closed your eyes, feeling all of him. Hard and deep inside you. And so damn perfect. A part of you didn’t want it to feel so good but the one that didn’t care, savoured the stretch, the fullness.

“Y/N, I think I’m in love.” Jisung confessed as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, torturing you with how slow and gentle he was. You didn’t want slow. You didn’t want gentle. Not when you were so consumed with need and lust. You wanted him to wreck you.

“With me or my pussy?” You managed to joke and chocked when he slammed back. “Fuck.” You arched your back. He sure knew how to make you shut your mouth.

Jisung didn’t answer your question and you forgot all about it as he started thrusting. Just like you hoped and prayed. Hard. Deep. Making you hold your sheets tightly as you met his thrusts with your own.

“Harder.” You begged unable to think about anything else but him and his cock deep inside you.

“As you wish.” His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your skin that would leave marks – you didn’t care. You let him use you as he saw fit. You let him pound into you.

The sound of his grunts, of your moans and slap of skin was slowly driving you mad. The rhythm he set got you writhing and begging for release in no time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you, feeling his body crashing you under him, as you claimed his mouth in a desperate and needy kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth, damn proud of your state.

“I hate you.” You bit on his lips and he fought back with a powerful thrust. “So fucking,” And another. “Much.” And another.

Jisung kissed you back with as much needs. He was just as desperate for release as you were and so damn close. He tried to distract himself, to keep his control. He needed you to come. Right fucking now. One hand slipped between your bodies and he played with your clit as he kept pounding into you. Pinching it. Rubbing it. He left you no choice. He pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck!” Your back arched as your orgasm slammed into you. Your whole body shuddering as Jisung didn’t stop. He fucked you through your release, not slowing down even for a second. And you held onto him, strong and tight, and watched as he lost himself to his own pleasure. You watched him close his eyes as he slammed one last time and released himself.

Jisung slowly pulled out of you and took a second to admire his work. Your fucked up face. Your sweaty body. Your abused, dripping pussy. “Bloody hell. So damn beautiful.” He couldn’t stop himself from pushing back his fingers into your sensitive pussy to push back his cum inside you.

“Don’t. I can’t.” You begged and wriggled, trying to escape his dangerous fingers. You were completely and utterly spent. You couldn’t take more. But telling this to Jisung wasn’t your brightest idea. It only fuelled him more.

“But you look so pretty and yummy. How can a man resist?” And he brought his fingers to his mouth. Covered with both his and yours release. You gawked at him at you swore your pussy clenched again with need at the sight. He cleaned his fingers, humming in satisfaction.

“By the way,” He rolled to the side and pulled your body flushed against him. “I think I’m in love with both.” He admitted and kissed your head. “You and your pussy.”

You couldn’t believe him. He sure knew how to woo a woman. “Such a romantic.”

Jisung smiled sheepishly at you. “Isn’t it why you like me?”

“Tolerate you at best.” But you hid your face into his chest, refusing to show him your pink cheeks or the smile that spread on your face.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did. But we can do it again.” Jisung was in a mood. “So I can show you just how much I love you. And how much you love me too.”

Yeah. You liked the sound of it.

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐖.

❝ you're not a curse, you have never been. you were my blessing and my salvation– the best thing that has ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved. ❞

summary: when your entire village faced the king of curses' wrath, you were sure you'd be as good as food for him but life decides to weave the strings of fate and intertwine yours with the very person who tries to cut it short.

desc: 8.6k words, f!reader, sfw, angsty angst hehe, major character death, cannibalistic thoughts (sukuna is a cannibal after all), takes place in the heian era, true form sukuna, bit ooc bc we know his ass isn't capable of love, ! slightly gory parts!, this is canon bc i said so, kenjaku isn't known as kenjaku yet – he's still known as noritoshi kamo, yorozu mentioned, basically just me raw dogging the storyline during the heian era lol.

notes: this took way longer than it should but i battled like three burn out sessions to write this so lmao. also does anybody get the aot reference in the title? this might MIGHT have a part two if i can think of a good plot to mirror it. if you get the reference, you'll alr know what it's going to be titled :P

must be horrifying isn't it? being a mere human amongst sorcerers and curse users capable of destroying and killing— powerless among the powerful whose thirst for yet more power remain a bottomless pit of unquenchable desire.

in this state of the world, your life wasn't your own. it belonged to the people who were strong enough to kill you or considerate enough to spare you.

and among dangers looming throughout, one triumphs all. one whose name was even powerful enough to send curses back at just the mention of it.

ryomen sukuna. feared by curses and non curses alike. the ruthless evil entity who feeds off of humans. there is no doubt about him being the king of curses, capable of having any being in the palm of his hands.

including you.

your village faced the wrath of the king of curses himself, not a brick was intact nor a rock left unturned. and what's even worse? he didn't have any reason for his destruction. he just did it out of his sheer will.

perhaps you should consider yourself lucky to have your life spared, along with some other women and children. all the men were gone without traces — maybe for the better.

trapped in the basement of the castle’s kitchen, you await your fate to be eaten.

what was that you said before? lucky? no, you realise how horribly wrong you were. the wails and cries of terror as yet another person was dragged out of the small room was enough to ring in your ears forever.

the sudden quietness that followed soon after was enough to suffocate you.

the room was dark, wet and disgusting. it reeked of decomposed bodies and blood. nobody was fed well and even if one or two loaves of pitiful bread were thrown into the small cell, it wasn't nearly enough to feed a group of starving people.

at least the number keeps decreasing day by day.

you'd notice how the people who cried, begged or fought back were likely speeding up their deaths so you kept to yourself, waiting for your turn, even if it's just a while later.

after what you think was a couple of days came your turn. you had lost your perception of everything in this tiny suffocating room; you might as well be dead.

you heard some loud clanks of the metal door and suddenly, a harsh pull sends you essentially flying towards whoever was grabbing you.

“this is the last one” you heard a gruff voice say as a light shone inside. it felt like ages since you saw any sort of light, of warmth. in a way, you were relieved. your suffering must be finally coming to an end.

“its this one isn't it?” a low voice asks as they being a lamp closer to inspect you. your eyes were opened and after a long while, you saw again.

“why is she in such a weakly state?” the person holding the lamp grimaces at your sight. through your hazy vision, you could still make out the white hair, perfectly in place. they were beautiful.

“well that ain't my fault is it?” the big creature yanks your arm and you fall wherever it does.

suddenly shards of ice fill the room and the fire from the lamp is put out. in its place is a glowing icy caricature of the creature, holding you intact.

as terrifying as cursed techniques can be, they were also mesmerising. the beautiful fridgid sculpture leave you in awe; the rough hand holding your arm was now frozen and unmoving.

“now.” the icy person leans down, meeting your eye level, you hadn't realised the dim moonlight illuminating the ice crystals in the room “what shall we do with you?”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the next time you're concious enough to make out your surroundings, you find yourself in a small dimly lit room. it was heaven in comparision to the previous one.

you scrumble towards the small lamp and take in the warmth. you had no idea where you were, what happened or what would happen but for now, you were alive. barely, but alive still.

weakly, you sit on the floor— there isn't anywhere else to sit anyway. upon hugging your knees you notice an apparent bruse on your arm. the same place where you were grabbed, the memories come back slowly.

did the white haired person save you? could you maybe have a chance at life?

no, being in captivity by the king of curses himself tells you enough that you weren't going to make it out of here alive. well, it's not like you necessarily want to either. your home and the people in it were gone, some of whom you witnessed their end.

it's only fair for you to meet the same fate as them.

the sound of the door unlocking interrupts your thoughts, then in came the person with snow like hair.

“finish this” they hold out a tray of food and set it down next to you. you only lean away defensively.

without so much of another word, they make their way towards the door that is, until you decided to stop them.

“you saved me didn't you?” it had been a while since you even heard your own voice and you don't miss the way it sounded more resigned than it had ever been.

“do not be fooled. it is all in consideration for my master. finish the plate” with that they walk away, leaving you with even more questions than before.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

when the certain white haired person decides to show up, they look pleased with your health. well, it should come as a no surprise since they keep feeding you — overfeeding you in fact. and you know why.

fatten up the stock so that it's in top shape when it's time to consume it.

“follow me” they say, holding the door open.

obediently, you follow the person you owe your life to, for now anyway, and they lead you through alleys and stairways you had never seen before.

only sounds of footsteps and your exhausted huffs can be heard in the hallway filled with various markings on the wall. you don't even want to know what they mean.

“so… how do i call you?” you manage to ask, maybe if you try to get close to them, maybe they can help a second time.

don't kid yourself.

no reply comes and you feel heat rush to your cheeks from embarassment. but hey at least you tried.

your wandering eyes missed to see them stop before a certain door and you crash into them with a grunt. they must be well built because the impact did not faze them at all.

“sorry” you rub your nose that was sore from bumping your face into their back.

“i go by uraume. i am master sukuna's loyal servant. beyond this door is the garden and you are to take a walk twice a day to build up your stamina. i shall be checking on you daily.”

“why should i need to do that?”

“do as you are told. now go” they open the door for you.

beyond the door is a garden too beautiful to belong in the palace of such an abominable being. flowers of all kind adjourn each corner, flourishing in all their bloosoming glory.

the sky was as clear as can be, with the sun brightly shining as if it's wishing people a good day. the birds chirping and the gentle breeze that brushes through your hair reminds you of your home back in the village and your heart aches a little.

“thankyou” you turn back but uraume is now long gone.

gee must people be so cold around here?

you stroll along the garden, savoring your time outside in so long. how long has it been exactly? you couldn't recall. maybe you should ask uraume the next time they come around.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

only this time when uraume does show up, they don't lead you towards the garden. instead, you find yourself at the door of the king of curses’ throne room.

uraume doesn't say a word and only ushers you in.

is this doomsday? you recall the screams of fear from the people you used to share a home with. the look on their faces, their nails desperately clinging onto the prison bar while pleading for mercy — all of that for naught.

and the silence that followed.

it's possible that the well timed meals and the strolls you took in the beautiful garden was the mercy your people begged for but never got.

maybe you should be thankful you even got to have those.

“master is impatient. you should go in right this instant” uraume insists. something about their behaviour tells you if you don't do as told, you'd have a fate worse than what you could ever think of.

with all the courage you could muster, you unlock the door and take strides into it, as confident as you could make it seem.

the four armed monster looms in front of you, starting down at you as if you were only a mere bug.

perhaps you were — small and helpless, under the mercy of the predator who had seen you.

you bow politely, it seemed like it was the only appropriate thing to do.

sukuna thinks you're pathetic.

just a mere human and not worth his time. there was only a small reason as to why he hasn't had his way with you yet.

your flesh and blood.

to him, you smelled hauntingly sweet and hypnotisingly alluring. that was what drew him to your village in the first place — the hunt for the sweet scent that awakened all his senses, although he doesn't have any idea why.

sukuna is a curious being, he seeks to know the mysteries of the world — one of the reasons why he's so wise, adding to his strength.

so until he has his answers, he plans to keep you around. after that, he can enjoy your flesh however he wants.

just you standing mere feet away from him was enough to tempt him to bite you already. how would it feel to sink his teeth into your skin and have your blood flow down his throat? sukuna couldn't wait until he has the chance to do so.

“leave.” the monster only dismisses you after staring at you so intently, he might as well be staring deep into your soul.

you look up at him in confusion, why would he call you here without any particular reason?

“do your ears not work, human?” sukuna says, rather impatiently.

“lower your gaze and know your place, fool” he practically growls and you look away faster than the speed of light. one more bow and you're bolting out the door.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

your stay at the palace was a cycle of eating, sleeping and taking strolls. it was beginning to get monotonous, boring even. but its much better than facing the king of curses ever again.

you still had no idea why he called you to his throne room and honestly, you don't even want to find out why.

life wasn't so bad — the flowers were beautiful and smelled lovely, the meals were scrumptious and your sleep? well nightmares were inevitable but there were nights when you slept like a log.

and unbeknownst to you, a certain four eyed creature could be seen watching over you. no, observing you. its only right for him to observe his prey right?

it's not out of the goodness of his heart that when you whimper and cry out in your sleep because of a weak nightmare curse looming over your head, he kills it with only a tilt of his own. no, it's only because that curse deters your well being, hence your development to reach your full potential to be a perfect feast for him. nothing more.

weak human, you don't have the means to kill such a low grade curse or even see it. so why were you special? what makes you so different than the other filthy beings with no cursed techniques roaming the earth? sukuna still couldn't tell.

he's aware though — of your silent fear and unspoken resentment you have towards him. he's aware of your quivering soul whenever you sense his presence. he's aware of your desire to escape this place.

but he's also aware of how your smile becomes a little more genuine when you smell a particular flower in his garden. he's aware of how your eyes soften when you see the setting sun. he's aware of how you tried to get close to uraume and only get shut out. he's aware of you.

and that angers him to no end.

what infuriates him even more is how that pathetic servant thinks he can talk to you, and with such ease too. how dare he speak lowly of you? that's a direct insult to him isn't it?

‘you mean less than a concubine?’ sukuna scoffs at him for even comparing you to one.

so the next time he calls the council for a lecture, he doesn't even blink one of his four eyes when the said servant in question gets slashed by his formidable cursed technique.

the room grows thick with the smell of blood that was now splashed all over the carpets and tapestry hanging on the wall—a grueling task for the cleaners later.

“every tongue that rises against my prey shall fall.” the headless body of his once loyal servant serve as testimony to his words.

the palace may be big but rumours flew around: another servant ruthlessly executed by the monstrous beast. even the people under him weren't given an ounce of consideration.

is it a coincidence that it was the same person who cornered you just a day ago? you don't ponder.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

after the ruthless slaughter of your village and everything in it, it didn't take long for sukuna to find his next target.

it wasn't anything new to anybody at all that he was a bloodthirsty beast, revelling in chaos and ruin. one after another, his victims were crushed mindlessly and so easily, it made you sick how powerless other people are in comparison to him.

out of all his battles and countless destruction, one prominent opponent was the fujiwara clan.

they were an elite clan, taking pride in the strength of their squadrons. the world held its breath upon hearing of the battle, maybe they had the potential to rival the king of curses.

the outcome didn't change though. sukuna remained prevalent—bringing the sun, moon and stars at his feet. the five empty generals did not even measure upto him.

the battle must have been so agonising to the point where the authorities were willing to hold festivals in his honour, out of utter terror.

it was at this harvest festival where sukuna had encountered a certain shameless sorcerer who was on her way to be completely obsessed with him.

yorozu had only one goal: to alleviate sukuna's loneliness with her love — something she believed only she was capable of.

thus why she leeches onto him, much like a hick. perhaps sukuna doesn't see her as a threat or he deems her powerful enough, he didn't get rid of her, for now at least.

however, her dreams were short lived.

yorozu sits next to sukuna in his throne room, enticing him with gentle nudges of her exposed chest. her haori was united and her hair fell graciously past her shoulders all the way down her chest.

she only shrieks in horror as she stares at the uninterested man. “you look different… you are different!” she screams angrily.

sukuna only hums in response, deep in thought of how his little prey has been holding up. despite his festivities and celebrations, you were there in the back of his mind, like an itch that cannot be quite scratched.

she stares at him, stepping back further and further “it couldn't be…”

yorozu brings herself to her knees, looking up at sukuna desperately. “i have so much more to teach you about love and the ultimate strength and solitude that it brings!”

she rises, her eyes were erratic, anyone would be afraid of her outburst that was about to come. anyone but sukuna.

“im the one who will teach you about love. that is my purpose and my goal. now tell me, who is it that is taking away your loneliness?”

sukuna raises a brow. it's possibly the only time he indulges yorozu’s antics and also the last.

“i will find out who it is! it doesn't matter if i have to tear this palace apart” yorozu violently darts out the room in search of something, anything. to her, if it was powerful enough to move sukuna then she would have no trouble finding whatever it is.

and she doesn't. not because you're too powerful but rather because of the lack of it. you stuck out like a sore thumb with no cursed energy running through your body, weak and unarmed just strolling across the garden— like the pathetic human you are.

sukuna arrives at the scene, ever observing, ever thinking.

“that is not true love” yorozu mutters, her fists were clenched on her sides as her gaze burnt into you who was unknowing of the fury burning inside her.

“you're mistaken, sukuna. i will show you what real love looks like!” yorozu screams, making her way towards you who could only stare at her in fear, frozen in place.

it would take sukuna less than a blink of his eye to stop her but he was intrigued. what would he feel if you were to be killed? would he feel pain? anger? the beast always finds his answers so he waits.

and what was that about true love? does that woman think he was capable of it? with you, no less? she sees you, a mere human, as a threat so that must mean something.

yorozu lands on you, digging her nails into your skin, blood gushing out of it. sukuna admires the sight.

you scream in agony as she continue to scratch through you and into you with ease. a maniac expression forms on her face at your slowed breaths and now silent helpless whimpers.

but before you were completely gone, sukuna gets rid of her. you were too busy holding onto your life to tell how he did it but one blink was enough for her to be gone and another makes you realise you were caged in the arms of the four armed monster.

“interesting” you heard sukuna say, before your lashes flutter and your eyes close against your will.

sukuna holds your limp body in his arms protectively with calculated gentleness as if a slight jerk would hurt you. well, in your state, it would.

upon watching you get torn apart, sukuna realises he isn't as heartless as he deemed himself. it drives him angry. how could a being as weak as you would have the capability to move him? how could you inflict pain onto him when you're the one who's at his mercy? he scoffs at how ridiculous it is all.

but when his eyes land on you– your fragile body almost lifeless and bleeding, his only thought was towards your safety and not towards devouring you, albeit the sweet scent of your blood tempting him and calling out to him to drink it.

he stares at his hands tainted with the pretty crimson colour, glistening in the sun but it pales in comparison to the way your eyes were shut as if you were only asleep. sukuna sighs, alright then.

his reversed cursed technique flows through his body into your own, healing the deep tears and cuts. he only hopes you aren't too angry at him for waiting that long to step in.

your staggered breathing was replaced with slow even ones and your wounds disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. a peaceful expression forms on your face and all of sukuna's eyes soften.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the next time you awaken you find yourself in the comfort of your own room making you doubt if everything that happened was a vivid dream. and you would have believed that doubt if not for the person sitting in the corner of your room, his four arms folded into each other.

you flinch upon seeing him and sit straight up, a groan escapes you involuntarily from your sore body.

“you're awake, brat” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

you nod slightly, your eyes on anything besides him.

“how are you feeling?” this makes you jolt your head towards him because did he just ask about your well being? you would say you misheard but the frown and distaste on his face only confirms that he was, in fact, concerned about your condition somehow.

“im feeling alright” you say quietly, still a bit afraid of the man sitting in your room who could easily overpower you if he wanted.

“i should hope so. your weak body didn't take much to heal as easily injurable as it is” he sneers from the shadows that enveloped him.

“so it wasn't a dream?” your voice shook a little which doesn't go unnoticed.

“no. i have taken care of the matter. you may rest at ease” he rises to his feet, he looks way too big to feel safe around. you hug your blankets a little tighter. wait, when did you even have that many?

“do not fear. i do not intend to harm you.” two out of four eyes narrow at you and how scared of him you looked. sukuna doesn't like how that bothers him.

“how do i know that?” your eyes didn't meet him, rightfully so, if it was anyone else who questioned him, sukuna would waste no second getting rid of them altogether.

“it is i.” a viable answer – one that doesn't need any further explaination. sukuna maybe a merciless hard hearted being but he's also a man of his words. anyone who knows him would be aware of this fact.

“but i don't know you.”

he supposes you're right. in a way, nobody knows him. this was also why he remained so strong despite people and sorcerers alike sharpened themselves while fighting him. he did not have an opening to allow them to kill him.

“then you can start from this moment forward.”

“i don't want to.” for the first time, sukuna faces disappointment; but it's a different kind of disappointment. normally he would be discouraged at how nobody was able to stand a chance against him but now, he feels helpless. much like he was the prey and you're the predator.

“and your reason for that is?” ever so curious, he glowered at your body which had somehow become smaller amongst the sheets of blanket you're enveloped by.

“because then… then i will grow to understand you. if i do understand you then that would mean id find out you have a heart. someone with a heart would never… would never…” your voice trails away and you look horrified by the memories flooding your mind.

“so i don't want to know you.” you muster up enough courage to stare into his eyes, all of his eyes and sukuna can feel your soul tremble.

he only watched silently as you fidget under his watchful gaze. great. he's at a loss by someone who's terrified of him, how much more could you hit a blow to his pride.

without a word, he steps out of your room and he could hear you exhale. he huffs in annoyance at how tense you are in his presence. and your words. they might as well be your cursed technique attacking him with every enunciation that came from your mouth.

and they were working.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the world was somehow shifting. you couldn't exactly pinpoint where or how but it was.

“master has assigned you a new room that would be more comfortable for your stay” uraume says, standing in front of you in a polite stance. “please allow me to guide you there.”

if this is his attempt to make you forget about all the destruction he caused, for whatever reason, it was futile. he was irredeemable.

your thoughts might have been apparant on your face because uraume continues, “master says he does not have an ulterior motive. he simply wants you to be comfortable.”

since when did that beast care about other people's comfort except for his own?

“fine then, show me” if he offered, then there's no problem in accepting. heck maybe you should be taking advantage of his hospitality and ask for whatever you desire. he has put you on death's row and wiped of everyone you knew after all.

you were led to a room that was closer to the main area of the palace, a stark contrast to the basement of the kitchen — where you started from.

pieces of beautiful art were decorating each corner, finest tapestry hanging from the walls, and the curtains? they were of the best material you had ever known. no doubt, this was a room that exceeded even your dreams.

uraume opened the closet revealing kimonos of various kinds, from silk to linen to satin— every kind was there. “i was not aware of your taste so i assorted various kinds.”

you were amazed at the room, the materials – everything but these measly riches don't bring lives back and the monster certainly wasn't capable of any empathy so the words saying he has no ulterior motive were nothing but empty to you.

“what? have i been promoted from prey to concubine now?” the word alone makes you sick to your stomach but it's the only explanation that makes sense.

“you are very wrong. master does not keep concubines. it is only an extension of his kindness.” you laugh, sukuna? kindness? please.

four eyes narrowed at your bitter laugh, sukuna stands in the doorway, each of his two arms folded in each other. he has lost count of how much disrespect he tolerates from you but strangely, it does not give him a drive to kill, only annoyance.

a brow raises when you turn around after being aware of his presence and your laugh, as mocking as it was, dropped into a frown.

seeing how speechless you are, he huffs. from out of nowhere, he conjures up a bow and an arrow to go along with it. sukuna moves stealthily, one step and he's already next to you.

the bow and arrow are shoved into your hands “i have heard you are exceptionally good with these” sukuna says, his voice was low and calculating – if you hadn't known better, you'd say it quivered a little.

he wasn't wrong though, you had to hone some sort of hunting skill for food. life wasn't kind and you learnt it the hard way. nevertheless you felt safer with some kind of weapon you were familiar with, even though they won't be of much help against a sorcerer.

“master’s very own bow and arrow” uraume interrupted, their face had an expression of shock you had never seen on them before. there was an engraving on them– the same mark that sukuna had on his body.

“why give me this?” you ask and receive no answer. not because sukuna doesn't want to answer you, he simply doesn't have a reason. he just wanted you to have it. it felt natural. he'll be damned before he ever admits that to you or even to himself.

“what if i use it on you?” you press on, clutching onto the wooden weapon tightly. “what if i wanted to fire this at you?”

“i would let you.”

it caught you by surprise. why? you want to ask but you also didn't want to hear his reason. you don't want to know him. the little barrier you had put between you both is the only thing giving you leverage against such a vicious being, you couldn't afford to have it break down.

taking a quick abrupt step back, you line the end of the arrow to the bowstring and pull on it with an expert ease, aiming it at sukuna. uraume was about to step in but sukuna waves them off. as if the most feared curse user couldn't defend himself.

he could already have you breathing your last breath in a mere second if he wanted to but of course, he doesn't. he just stands there unmoving. his lack of response to your threat made you all the more aggravated.

“aren't you going to stop me?”

“no. proceed with whatever you intend to do, i shall not stop you.” sukuna's folded arms fell to his sides, giving you an open target for his heart.

now you should be firing your arrow with no hesitation right? you have hunted down countless moving targets from as small as a bird to something as big as a deer.

and they were running while you manage to hit a bullseye – every single time. so now this unmoving big target within just a few meters would be a piece of cake. it's your chance to end the tyranny of his wicked rule and him altogether– a chance that had not been granted to anyone who stands against him.

but your hands wouldn't move. they wouldn't let go of the string to propel the arrow towards him. they were frozen in place. you would have doubted uraume’s technique being in play but no signs of ice crystals found themselves anywhere near.

sukuna waits and you wonder if he was ever this patient.

your hands tremble, slowly letting your form down. why couldn't you just do it?

“human–”

sukuna's words were cut short by a swift arrow flying towards him. he didn't make a move to avoid it.

your trembling hands were now perfectly stable holding the bow. your breathing was calm, collected even. if anyone were to see you now, they'd wonder who the beast is. empty eyes deadpan at your target.

sukuna stares back, his cheek bleeding from the graze of the arrow. unlike your soul-less face, a satisfactory smile creeps onto sukuna's. “you didn't miss, did you? you aimed here on purpose.” his hands caress the small wound in awe.

“next time i wont.”

“as i have said, i will not stop you.”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

the new room was comfortable, all your needs were tended to and your conduct exceeded your desires. you were treated equal to a queen, if you knew how.

and uraume, sukuna's loyal servant, was now your own. they were still very distant though, not speaking more than they needed to. not like you really minded anyway.

uraume was there to observe. they were under strict orders to keep you safe and also report your daily status to sukuna. you weren't exactly aware of this part but there's no harm done so by logic, there wasn't a problem with it either.

sukuna finds the corner of his mouth twitch when uraume mentioned that you sang obnoxiously loud because you thought nobody was around. he'd have loved to hear that himself.

the amusing brief about you was however rudely interrupted by a strange person brave enough to march directly into the throne room unannounced.

“you're from the kamo clan aren't you? have you come to die a meaningful death?” sukuna's thirst for battle heightened upon seeing a sorcerer from one of the three main clans in jujutsu. maybe finally, he can have a strong opponent and enjoy the fight without having it end too early.

but the man only chuckles “no, i have come here to negotiate with the almighty king of curses himself”

sukuna frowns, now staring at him unamused “you do not have anything worth a value to me. fight or die a pathetic death.”

“i will do neither of those.” noritoshi kamo, stands face to face with sukuna without a hint of fear in his eyes and that makes sukuna curious. just what kind of offer does he have to be so bold?

“prove that you are worth my time you filthy scum” sukuna glowers at the man, getting more and more impatient by the second.

“how about that prey? how is your little prey doing?” kamo smirks and it's enough to tempt sukuna to cut through his skull but no, he refrains because anything that involves you, sukuna doesn't take it lightly.

“speak up or i’ll have you slashed.” sukuna remarks impatiently.

“it would be a shame to have her taken away from you isn't it?” the old man sneers.

the next thing he knows is his ragged breath and a sharp pain across his chest, kamo falls to his knees. sukuna’s technique had manifested a cut through his chest, although not deep enough to end him. with blood oozing out of the fresh cut and his mouth, he still has the courage to glare at the four eyed creature.

“you must not value your life” sukuna says nonchalantly, leaning against one of his hand, the grotesque sight was nothing new to him at all.

“your reign is coming to an end isn't it?” kamo laughs, although it comes out through splutters of blood. “no matter how powerful you are, you are not immortal sukuna, you still won't defeat death!”

as if sukuna is one to fear death. sukuna only sighs, revelling in the bloodied state of his intimidator.

“and your little human toy won't either” that earns a reaction from him. sukuna's eyes narrow at the pitiful man fighting for his life.

“what are you suggesting?”

“what if i tell you– that there is a way for you to be immortal? and that it's possible to find her in every lifetime?”

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

everyone who knows sukuna knows that he does not get hurt. or yet, there's nobody who's strong enough to hurt him. generation upon generation, sorcerers have teamed up to get rid of him but with no luck. not even one of them could land a hit on the ferocious being.

all the more reason for you to be speechless when he returns with a huge hole in his stomach, bleeding continuously.

it was during your stroll that you saw him staggering over to his room.

okay maybe that was a lie. maybe you'd heard that a very prominent sorcerer in the jujutsu society had challenged him. you didn't know much about that world but it was enough to worry you, even if sukuna was undefeated.

so maybe that worry brings you into a situation where he arrived just while you were taking a stroll in the garden. you definitely didn't purposely take longer to watch the birds fly back to their nest in hopes of making sure sukuna returns. definitely not.

that's also NOT why you're knocking on his door boldly.

the door opens, revealing a confused sukuna. your eyes dart down to his injury but it seems the blood had stopped, still looking nasty regardless.

you wince just by looking at it but sukuna interrupts your unwarranted examination. “eyes here human. what do you want?”

for someone who's supposed to be prey, you're bold because in the next moment, you find yourself pushing through the door and asking him to sit down.

yes. you— a mere human, barged through his room and asked him to sit. when he doesn't comply, you walk up to him, pulling on one of his hands, guiding him towards his chair and sat him down. and strangely, no hint of protest came from him – not even a grunt or a growl.

with familiar ease, you call in uraume and ask for an emergency kit. they hesitate but comply regardless.

your expert hands slowly disinfect the wound and start stitching it up, not even sparing a glance at the man who just watches you and lets you do whatever you want to him.

“where have you garnered skills to do this?” sukuna asks mid stitch and it's only then that you realised he hasn't done so much as flinch. you could imagine how painful it would've been for a normal human but apparently this counts for nothing to him.

“when you're desperate enough, you just know” the last string goes through his flesh and you tie a knot, snapping the thread off. your movements slow when you realise you're touching him– skin and all, with your own.

your eyes lock when you search for his and they stare back. this time, you don't see a vicious brute but in its place, you see the eyes of a man. and not just any man, if you allowed your thoughts to wander you'd say it was the same look of a man capable of love.

but you don't – you look away. and sukuna's could feel a slight pull in his chest.

“human.”

“i have a name”

“human.”

the disregard for your name only makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. the man only chuckles at the sight.

“you do realise i can heal myself?”

a pause. of course how could you forget? reversed cursed technique they call it? all these magical powers granted to them made no sense to you at all. you only stare at the wall dumbfounded as sukuna downright laughs at your humiliated expression.

“why didn't you stop me then?” your grumble only amuses him further.

“perhaps because i wanted you to acknowledge how foolish you are?” his tone was teasing and not a hint of malicious intent was within it. a smile creeps on your lips and sukuna could swear his heart rate accelerated.

“i could show it to you if you're curious” your wide eyes give him all the confirmation he needed. sukuna rises on his feet, the prior horrid injury long forgotten.

“you could… take off the bandages. if they aren't effective anyway since you can heal” you shrug, trying to brush off your wholly service that was in fact not required in the first place.

“i rather they stay.” his hands graze them gently and you could swear he smiled at the pitiful mounts of cotton plastered on his abdomen.

“come. allow me to show you what im capable of.” he offers you a hand, out of the many he has and his shoulder slumps in relief when you take it without any protest.

he takes you outside and leads you towards your favourite spot in the garden. you don't let yourself wonder if it's a coincidence or not.

“see that fruit?” he gestures to a ripe apple hanging on its tree – super red and just the perfect size.

“yeah want about it?” you tilt your head towards him curiously making sukuna more enthusiastic to show you his perfectly crafted technique.

an invisible slash cuts the single fruit out of the tree, making it fall. it was barely noticeable and you'd think it fell on its own if not for the perfect slices it has all while it landed in the palm of your hands.

your wide eyed gaze only delights the man responsible for it. you take one slice off and admire the precision “you did this?? no way!”

sukuna heaves his chest proudly. strangely, your adulation to his antic gives him so much more satisfaction than wiping out an entire village.

“wait till you see this” sukuna takes a step back, his lips quirking up into a tight smirk upon seeing your expectant expression.

he places his hands together and gestures up signs that were not familiar to you. “fuga « open »” his low voice chants while fire manifests into the palm of his hands. he moulds the flames skillfully as it takes the shape of an arrow – a fire arrow.

and you're left with your mouth agape, he was truly terrifying. such bright flames don't even burn him but instead falls into his command.

sukuna likes the way you stare at him in wonder and was tempted to tell you that he created this very technique in honour of you and your bold decision in grazing his cheek with your arrow but for now, he holds his tongue and lets you admire as long as you want.

when the flames burn away, you're still in a haze— staring at the man in front of you with diluted pupils: one might think you're in love.

as sukuna focuses his eyes into your own, he's certain he could see into your soul which grows a little more familiar to him everytime he sees you. no it's not how he feels the familiar terror in someone's soul when they tremble in fear of him just as he was about to take their life.

it's not the same shudder of fear he used to feel when he's around you. this time, it's inviting. he feels he could be stripped of his technique and just be a normal being if it meant he could submerge himself in it.

───────────── 🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

sukuna used to anticipate how he would die. he wanted to meet someone who would be strong enough to give him a formidable death fit for the most evil being to tread the world. news of fresh generation of strong sorcerers would excite him.

but the moment he knew he was entranced by you, that prior excitement was now replaced by fear. not fear for his death but rather, for yours. if anything were to happen to him, who would protect you?

it doesn't help how his enemies were catching hints on his possible weakness now. it all started with that damn bastard from the kamo clan, whom sukuna swears to kill. him and everybody else that could pose as a threat to you, he swears he will kill them all.

a little part of him also starts to fear for his own end. he fears that no matter how long he lives, he might think he doesn't have enough time with you. how could he when you're here, showing the sides or the world he never knew existed? the same world you weaved with every gentle word you say, no matter how insignificant.

sukuna can't get enough of the small smiles that were appearing more frequently when he reaches out to hold your tiny hand in his big ones.

he can't get enough of your soft snores when you're asleep in his chest– no more nightmares haunting your sleep because as long as he's around, any curse would have to fight him to get to you. no curse was bold enough to do so.

and mostly, he can't get enough of your small gentle strokes across his face. your touch was feather light and curious but so so loving that even when your hands were about to be pulled away, his own grabs them and makes them stay.

sukuna has nothing at all to base it off of, but if he had to name what he's feeling right now, it would be along the lines of complete devotion to you – in other words, he suspects it's the feeling these weak humans and yozoru keep preaching about: love.

and he's not denying it– not to himself at least or he can't. during his recent battles, he observes himself ending it as quick as possible.

instead of luxuriating in the thrill of battle, he finds himself rushing to kill his opponent – to end it as quick as it was humanely possible because every second he spends away from you is a second wasted.

he was becoming more precise and ruthless now that he has something to protect.

that's why even when you ask about his murder streak and if he could lessen it, he just ruffles your hair and tells you not to worry.

any sorcerer who has gotten close enough to land their sights on you were brutally tortured until they give up on their life altogether.

however, life can be funny at times. his own fear for your well being is possibly responsible for the curse that now latches onto you, consuming and draining the life out of you and sukuna's forced to watch as you slowly became a husk of who you used to be. so really, it's not funny at all.

he feels helpless and he is. none of the cursed techniques he has could exorcise the curse blooming inside you and spreading through your veins.

he has been warned before and he didn't care. he never fathomed to ever find someone to love so he traded his soul for his fervent reign – a binding vow: any being whose soul remotely gets near his own would ruin itself without any means for its resurrection.

another condition of the vow was for him to forget about it only after it was too late. at the time the vow was made, sukuna had thought, no, he'd known he lucked out by a power at the price of such a feeble condition but now… now he knows how gut wrenchingly wrong he was.

sukuna slumps in defeat at the sight of your weak body fighting itself. all his four hands encased one of yours as he listens to your staggering breaths that slowly becomes more faint than the last.

for the first time, no matter how tainted his hands were of from the numerous people he murdered in cold blood, sukuna finds himself praying; not for salvation or forgiveness but for your suffering to be placed onto him instead.

he has just found happiness with you, and in you, had just started to learn how to love someone so much that all his wicked ways were something he wished he never did. he had been stupid and arrogant – too arrogant. he was sure the heaven and whole generations of people he killed were now laughing at him drowning in his own misery. how the tables have turned on him and humbled him.

“kuna..” your barely audible voice mades him lean closer to your face, one of his large hands coming up to caress your face delicately.

“human. save your energy” sukuna scolds but his tone was not demanding by any means. it was desperate, desperate for just one more second of you.

a faint smile ghosts your almost now deathly pale face “it's not your fault.” you manage to cough out through staggering breaths.

sukuna's world might as well stop. it was his fault, everything was his fault. from the moment he caught a whiff of your sweet sweet blood to when he looked at you as nothing but prey to the moment when you became the sole reason for his existence, it was all his doing. he has taken you and tangled you amidst the string of despair.

his head shakes in denial, no words coming out of both his two mouths. so much to say, so many ways to say it but nothing.

but you know, the four pupils staring at you take the form of hearts, and that tells you everything. it could be just an illusion you'd heard people speak of on the verge of death but it's enough for you.

your sweet blood slowly looses its essence as you close your eyes, the last light inside you leisurely fading away.

“oi human” sukuna calls but there was no response.

“answer me” a plea.

still no answer as your hand slowly goes limp in his own. there was silence and nothing. so much of nothing that was unfamiliar in the otherwise air of curiousity that always surrounded you.

“human.” sukuna's voice wavers as his hands come to cup your too peaceful face. he searches for any signs of life but he finds none. before he knew it, a drop of water landed on your clueless yet beautiful features, then another and another.

the monster was crying. not just crying – he wept.

his entire body shakes as he lets out his pain, holding onto you desperately as if that would bring you back.

“human” he dries away his own tears on your face and brushes away the hair that dared hide even a portion of it.

“you're not a curse. you have never been. you were my blessing, my salvation. you are the best thing that have ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved.”

sukuna trembled in grief at your loss. the king of curses– reduced to a man in love.

perhaps he wasn't the cannibal here. perhaps you were the one who slowly teared him apart and consumed his very being– merging yourself into his core without him even realising it.

but one thing he knows for sure is that if he were to do it again, he'd let himself be devoured entirely by you. over and over again. to be loved is to be consumed and he's offering himself to you, flesh and bones on a silver platter.

“until next time, my love.” he leans in and places a fragile kiss onto your forehead and that's the first and last time he has a taste of you.

with the last drop of your blood running dry and the absence of the warmth that made you, you; sukuna finds his answer – the reason why your blood tasted so sweet was because he was made to crave it. something he could quench his thirst with but never getting the chance to do so; a punishment perfectly fit for him.

“your deal. i shall agree to it on a condition” sukuna glowers at kamo who only smirks with an ‘i told you so’ written all over his face. sukuna would have slashed him to bits if it weren't for the agreement he agreed to take up on.

“i shall trade my soul to become a curse only if i get reincarnated exactly a thousand years from now” sukuna proposes, no, commands. it is said that a soul is reincarnated only once every thousand years and he wants to make sure he finds you in the next lifetime. maybe then, he'll have enough time with you and if he's lucky enough, be able to love you without bounds.

“that could be arranged” kamo quirks his head in a way sukuna despises. “but she'll have no memory of you. you're proceeding with this knowledge, yes?”

sukuna only narrows his eyes and ignores his question “that is not all. erase her existence from the minds of everyone besides me. generations hence, no one shall know who she is. her name shall be removed from every mouth that speaks of my reign.”

kamo smiles lazily “your soul is not worth that much sukuna”. the man strolls freely in the room, not minding the looming presence of the king of curses. “however, a binding vow could be arranged.”

great. another binding vow. but if that means he'll meet you in a thousand years time, he'll vow as many times as required.

“the grounds of the vow is as follows: you shall be reincarnated only if there appears a vessel suitable to withstand you.” kamo proposes. “your fingers will be cut and hidden in vast areas across the world and you shall only succeed in full reincarnation if you find them and consume them, all while being suppressed by the vessel.”

sukuna frowns and kamo only laughs “do you agree to the vow knowing all the risk it carries?”

conditions and regulations were a pain but nothing could stop a man desperate enough to give up his soul twice. “very well” sukuna agrees.

and that is how the heian era and sukuna's legacy came to an end; sealing himself – and the memories of you only he carries with him – into his twenty fingers, each of which turned into cursed objects scattered far and wide like pieces of puzzle waiting until the time comes for it to fit itself together again.

[blastoqueen]

Sunrise.

Chapter 4

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. The chapter problably has a lot of bad english, but in my defense I wrote this with a terrible headache. Anyway this doesn’t have a lot of plot, I just wanted to write something sweet between them

When Noa looked at Mae, the first thing that came to mind was her eyes. Bright blue, looking deep into his soul. Next thing he thought of was her long hair, entangled and dirty, he often wanted to tell her that she should just cut it all.

“If you are going to be a hairless being, do it right” he never dared to say those words out loud, but the need was strong.

There was a part of him, a confusing and strange part of him, that wanted to touch the brown hair and detangled every not. He has seen Mae do that with her hands.

It had been two weeks since Mae settled in the village. Noa never told the human, but it took a lot of convincing and yelling for the elders to accept her permanently into their clan. He felt almost embarrassed when he had to make an announcement to the rest of the apes, telling them that Mae was a part of them now, and that they should respect her as long as she did her part in the community. Of course, there were disagreements, but eventually most of them came to accept the Echo in the Eagle Clan.

“But going back to her hair…”

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

“Why only females… come with you?” Soona asked Mae. They were at the lake, getting clean.

“Actually, humans don´t shower next to each other… ideally” the human responded.

“Why?” Case, Soona´s friend interrogated.

“We are shy”

Mae removed her clothes and step into the water, joining the other two females, who were fighting playfully.

“Are you mom?” Case asked.

“What?”

“Your chest”

Mae felt self-conscious, she braced herself, covering up her breast and looking away.

“No, I´m not a mom”

“Oh. Echo thing then”

Soona pinched her friend.

“Chest is big” Soona explained, trying to get Mae out of her shy shelf “Only moms get chest that big… to feed”

“Oh” the human girl said, she uncovered herself, starting to scrub the dirt out of her skin “Yeah, for humans is normal. Most girls have this. You don’t have to be a mom”

They continued getting clean, and when they were done, they relaxed in the grass, watching the sunset.

“I know nobody… sees beauty in you” Case said “but I do. I think you are… pretty”

Mae stayed silent for a few seconds, not sure if she should feel offended.

“I see the beauty too” said Soona “Your body… is different, hairless, thin. But there is beauty… in that. Even if you… are not like ape”

The human smiled, she felt safe, appreciated, loved.

She felt also pretty. And that was nice

--------

“Where were you, Mae?!” Noa asked. He came running to her and almost hug her. Luckily, he stopped in time “Hair is wet”

“Calm down. I was taking a shower, with the girls” Mae said, almost ignoring him and passing by him

“What? You took shower recently” the ape started to follow her into her room in one of the towers.

“Yeah, humans need to shower often. Be grateful, otherwise you would be begging me to take a shower”

When they got into her shared room, she stopped him right at the entrance.

“Goodnight Noa” she said with a smile. This would be fun.

“Wait what?” the male got confused, she wasn’t going to let him in? Maybe chat a little bit like other nights?

“I share this room, Noa. I can´t just invite a boy whenever I want” she had this grin on her face… the ape catch on her game.

“Oh, I see. Well, if I cannot come in, maybe you should come out” he responded back, leaning into the wall.

“And go where?” Mae asked with a funny smile.

“You´ll see”

“Would there be climbing? You know I prefer walking”

“Do not worry. We take horses” he said. Mae closed the door of her room, ready to follow the Eagle Clan leader.

She started to walk when a hand stopped her.

“And by the way, if we climb, just get on my back, Echo” Noa whispered in her ear.

-------

“Are you allowed to run away in the middle of the night?” Mae asked.

They were in a green field with knee-length grass walking under the moon light and a torch.

“I am not running away” the ape said distracted, looking down to the grass, concern in his face.

“What´s wrong?”

“They should be dancing”

“What?”

“I wanted to show you the lighting dancers”

Mae stared at the ape. Was he loosing his mind?

“Wait!” Noa spoke “They are here”

Right when the girl was about to make a sarcastic comment, a firefly emerge from the grass, shining bright. Then, more of them started to fill the air. Dancing.

“Have you seen one of these?” Noa asked her

“No. I read about them. But I have never… woah”

The human watched fascinated how those little insects were producing light and just flying around, illuminating the dark night. It was truly amazing.

“Thank you for showing me this” Mae said with happiness.

“Anytime”

The fireflies kept dancing and Noa kept falling.