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knmaskitten · 2 days

Text

Nonsense ˚⊹♡

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru/ afab!reader.

Summary: Based on Sabrina Carpenter's espresso and nonsense. You met Oikawa Tooru at a bar in Argentina, Oikawa has always been the type of guy to have hundrends of women thrown at him but this encounter was different because this time he wanted to throw himself at you.

warnings/tags: afab!fem reader. A lot of slapping. Oral f and m recieving. Fingering. Very badly written smut. Use of spanish. Hair pulling. not pulling out. Mentions of the pill. Unprotected P in V. Not rough but also not vanilla?. No use of y/n. No physical descriptions of reader. Lots of badly written banter. CRINGE.

notes: I love writing about oikawa he is a little piece of shit and I love him! this fic was not proof read as I would fucking cringe doing so. English is not my main language so I apologize for any bad grammar. As always my AO3 is here.

wc: 3,240.

minors DNI. +18 only

You were sitting alone on a stool at a very crowded bar. You could hear the different chatter intertwine as you were waiting for your friend Luciana to arrive. Today it was girls’ night, so, of course, you decided to dress up a little more nicely than you usually do. Your pick for today was a very tight bodycon black dress with a squared neckline that, well, did wonders for your entire body. You decided not to mess with your hair, as it naturally framed your face beautifully and gave your face a sort of brightness.

You felt your phone buzz; it was a text from your friend: “Lo siento, nena. Voy algo tarde” (I’m sorry, baby. I’m a little bit late) you read on the screen of your phone. You sighed. Part of you knew how tardy Luciana liked to be and, moreso, allowed herself to be. This wasn’t really a surprise to you, nor did it anger you; you just limited yourself to resigning to this. Today was going to be a good day, you told yourself, and no tardiness was going to disturb your mindset today.

When the bartender passed you your mojito (which you ordered extra sweet), you drank up, dark red lipstick staining the glass as it left your lips. You swirled the ice around and left it at the table as you saw a dark brown-haired guy approach the seat next to yours. This made you skeptical, as you saw through his real intentions.

“No sé si vos sabés, pero ese asiento está ocupado” (I don’t know if you know, but that seat is taken), you said with parsimony, waiting for him to move. He looked foreign to you, and something in his aura made you feel weirdly interested in him. You analyzed his eyes, which were brown, seductive, and had a playful hint behind them.

“¿Por quién? No veo a nadie, pretty lady.” (By who? I don't see anyone), he said playfully, the last part forcefully in his home language, like he was challenging you. And you were so not having his shit, who does he think he was?

"Look, pretty boy, I’m not really playing around here.” You said it in a low tone, matching his language, which you knew, and you were glad that you took those extra classes in college all for this weird moment.

“Do you want to share a drink or something?” He put both hands up, tacitly asking for a truce between you and him.

You actually thought about his offer; he was good-looking, very good-looking, like the type of guy you could be pining for, and he could never be interested in you. And you could not believe he was hitting on you, of all people. You were having a hard time deciding between girls’ night or going home with this stranger, but you had a strong resolve. You promised Luciana this.

And well, it wasn’t like guys didn’t hit on you, but not these types of guys, not guys that looked toned and heaven-like. And you didn’t want anything to do with him; it was too weird for you. But also, it was sweet to think that he was flirting with you (in a very weird manner).

“Do I look like I want a drink?” You spat, arching your brow. “And you look very young. ¿Qué edad tienes cielito? ¿Seguro que puedes venir a estos lugares?” (How old are you, honey? Are you sure you can come to these places?)

He looked annoyed at this, like you touched a very sensitive fiber on him. He replied, gritting his teeth:

“Tengo 24 querida” (I’m 24, dear)

“I could swear you were younger.”You laughed at this clearly mocking him. You know, you might as well have some fun while Luciana arrived, you do love the idea of men wrapped around your finger. So you did what you thought was best; you moved you hair out of the way and leaned in, cleary with intentions of showing your cleavage. You gave him a half-lidded look:

“You shouldn’t get lost in these kind of places, you might get a very unpleasant surprise.” You shrugged then took a sip of your drink.

“Like you?” He sarcastically replied, getting closer as well. He should not be getting any ideas, you were the one leading this conversation not him. You had power, he had his looks only.

“Believe me I’m not the unpleasant one here”

The vanilla perfume you wore today had him on a whirl, he felt like never before. You were one of the first girls that did not want to throw themselves at him and it was killing his ego. You looked wonderfull in your dress and he could be drooling over it. You looked like someone who might turn him down and that was so exciting for him, a kind of feeling at the pit of his stomach bubbled at the thought.

“I’m Oikawa Tooru” he stated, almost fiercely, as if he wanted you to tattoo this information on your head.

“Mmm…Oikawa…Tooru…Ah! you play on the San Juan don’t you?” You loved volleyball, since you were little. You nevere pursued a career on it but you practiced often and you had muscles thanks to it.

“You…know me? And you don’t want me?” He bluntly said in disbielef. You knew him, and you didn’t drool over him. That was a stabbing right to his ego, it hurted like hell.

“Why would I? You’re just a guy”

“Eh! Just a guy?” You were definitely killing him, tearing his ego one by one.

“Why, can’t stand rejection?” You giggled, clearly mocking him.

“Is that your way or rejecting me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well I don’t really think so, cielito.”

Before you could reply your phone rang, and Luciana’s number was shown on the screen alongside a picture of the two of you together. You were sticking out your tongue while she gave you bunny ears with two of her fingers. You thought the worst; you knew something was up.

“Pelotuda, no me jodas que te pasó algo.” (Motherfucker, don’t tell me something happened to you.) You said it rapidly as you picked up the phone, omitting the hello.

“Mira, nena, la verdad es que estoy acá y no te veo en ningún lado.” (Look, babe, the truth is, im here and I don’t see you anywhere.)

“Boluda…No me digas que te equivocaste de bar.” (Idiot, don’t tell me you got the bar wrong.)

“Era el bar María, ¿No?” (It was the María bar, right?)

“¡No!, era el Alfredo’s” (No! it was Alfredo's.) You hissed angrily.

You had it sometimes with Luciana; she was your best friend but that didnt mean you had to agree to everything she did. This was one of those days, and honestly? fuck it. You stood up, furiously placing some argentinian pesos on top of the table and standing from your stool. You were hearing a series of apologetic words on the other line that came like a current towards your ear. You were not having it.

“Luciana, silencio. No quiero escuchar más; dejamos la salida para otro día, boluda.” (Luciana, silence. I don’t want to hear it anymore; we will leave it for another day, idiot.)

And with that, you hung up, not really wanting to hear Luciana’s response. You picked up your black purse and fixed your hair. As you were walking out, you turned on your heels. Filled with determination, you walked towards a very confused Oikawa. You placed your hand on top of his and led him out of the bar with you, and he happily obliged without saying a word.

Oikawa and you did not exchange words on the way to your apartment. It was a very comfortable silence. He had his hand on top of your thigh, applying a little bit of pressure every so often. You liked it; you liked how he felt all mushy for you and how he was trembling so slightly with desire. You could feel how he bubbled with the same intensity as you did.

When you arrive at your apartment, both of you stay quiet and still on the doorway, first admiring your dimly lit living room and secondly thinking of what the hell to do. Oikawa knew this routine very well; he was a girls’ boy at the end of the day, and he had his fun often. But you clouded his judgment, and he wasn’t really able to dictate what to do as he usually did.

You grew tired of the indecision on his part and rolled your eyes. You clearly didn’t give a fuck about anything right now (and perhaps usually), and this brief moment of silence was appeasing the feeling in your lower belly, and you didn’t want that. So, you did what every girl in your place would do: you took him by the collar and crashed your lips together.

It started as a clumsy kiss, and it evolved into something more complicated, intense, and hungry. Your hands were exploring his hair as he hugged you by your hips. You knew he was tall, and you thanked your shoes for giving you a lot more height than you had because it would have been harder to do this if it weren’t for it. He stopped kissing you for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Can I touch you?”

“Do it.” You demanded.

He resumed the kiss, now guiding it. He started by grabbing your ass and squishing it hard, then slapping it, to which you let out a small whimper in between kisses. He definitely liked your ass because he groped it several times. His hands then wandered towards your hips, where he squished your sides. You liked it—how strong his hands were, how extremely feral you knew he could be.

“Do not restrain yourself. Don’t you dare, Oikawa.”

And so he didn’t. He turned you around and bent you on top of your kitchen counter, giving you a hard, dull slap on your ass. Your tits sprung out of your dress, getting hard when they hit the cold surface, and you shut your eyes, biting your lip. He started generating friction between his crotch and your ass, and you could feel him. You felt how big he was and how much he needed to eat you up.

His hands went to your hair, pulling you up; your back was arched, and your ass was glued in place to his erection. You allowed yourself to be; you really needed to blow some stress out, and this looked like the perfect opportunity, so you did what you needed to do and what you knew was going to feel freeing. You moaned loudly and clearly. He seemed to briefly stop what he was about to do when he heard you, spellbound.

“You’re such a good girl when you want to, huh?” He said it in your neck, his warm breath hitting your cold skin. The hairs on your skin sprung up.

It was May, and the coldness could be felt throughout the region already, so it was so comforting how he held you because he exuded a certain kind of dangerous warmth, the intoxicating kind. You wanted to be filled with it. And tacitly obliging to your wishes, he took both your breasts in his hands and started playing with them.

“How dare you. Driving me crazy with this little black dress of yours”

He pinched one of your nipples, erecting a moan out of your throat. He also started biting your neck, leaving hard hickeys (that were definitely going to leave a mark), licks and bites, hard bites, praising you for your noises. His other hand found the hem of your dress, impatiently playing with it as his head grew lighter with lust.

“Undress me.”

You always were one to demand, and you loved how he followed your orders without hesitation. He turned you around and lifted you up; you were facing him, and your core was against his crotch, creating a blissfully good friction. You were growing wetter by the minute, and you knew you were going to start to get extremely needy if he didn’t hurry.

“Shit, sorry. Which one is the door to your room?”

“The one to the right.” you giggled, out of breath.

He placed you gently on the bed, then, without hesitation, took out your dress, leaving you in your underwear. You definitely felt exposed, but you were not going to allow yourself to cower in this moment.

“Enjoying the view?”

Oikawa was never a guy to stick with someone for a long period of time; he would rather be alone but have fun and, in all of his conquests, he was never this head over heels for someone. He saw you at the bar, and some kind of dream came true for him. You were beautiful; you made him want to keep looking, keep digging, and know as much about you as possible. And he met you an hour ago!

“I’m going to make you learn my name tonight.” he bluntly stated.

“Oikawa…”

“Moan it.”

And as he said that, he pushed himself on top of you and started sucking on one of your nipples, nibbling and licking as well. You were on extasis; it felt so incredibly good to have an experienced mouth working so intensely on your pleasure. And while doing so, one of his hands travelled down to your panties, feeling the wet spot you were leaving.

“You’re such a brat with me, while your pussy fucking cries for me.”

Oh, my god.

He started to rub slow circles on the spot where your clit should be. You let out small crying whimpers. You felt so impatient; you wanted him to rip your underwear and fucking touch you, to end this misery and let you have what you needed the right way. You could feel how experienced he was, looking at you half-lidded with his hazel brown eyes. He started to slide down your panties, painfully slow, until your core was fully exposed to him.

What he did then surprised you: he slapped you directly on your clit and you arched your back at this, moaning. He seemed cocky as he watched you squirm under his touch, he wanted more of this, so much more. So he did what he knew you were going to love. He spread you out (until your legs felt that muscular pain of stretching) and buried his face between your legs.

His tongue was the first thing you felt, eating you like you were this man’s last meal on earth. He sucked on your clit and applied preassure to it while also fucking you with his tongue. He helped by introducing one finger inside you and pumping it in and out. You were a loud mess; you could feel how he touched you as every nerve in your body was alert and crisped up. His sole finger made you feel like you were so freaking close to your orgasm, and then he flicked on your clitoris, the overstimulation filling you up.

He introduced a second finger, increasing his pace as he tried to reach your g spot (which he succeeded in).

“Tooru.” You moaned loudly, feeling overwhelmed by ecstasy.

His pace only went up by this, as if you were chanting his name in a volleyball game. And this is how he was going to win. He was going to make you feel so good that you could never forget his fingers and his dick. You were going to be his and his only.

“Don’t shut up; be fucking loud, hermosa.”

He didn’t stop and, with the right amount of pressure of his fingers, you came undone with his fingers, covering them with slick.

“You're such a good girl when you’re filled up. Not very commanding now, are you?”

“Put your fucking dick inside me, Tooru.”

“Watch that tone, preciosa. You’re going to make me punish you if you behave badly.”

“Tooru, please.” You pleaded.

You sat up as you said this, looking up at him with your mouth slightly parted and huffing as you were recovering from your orgasm. Your hand approached his belt, and he knew this was game over as he allowed you to unbuckle his pants and push them down. You stayed still, admiring his length through his boxers, before cupping it with your hand. You stood up, not breaking eye contact for one second, kneeling down in front of him.

You placed both of your hands on the hem of his boxers and pushed it down, exposing his length. You were mesmerized by how big he was; you couldn’t wait to be filled to the brim with him.

Please.

Oh, god, please.

You grabbed his length and put it in your mouth and you started bobbing your head in an almost rhythmic succession. It was ever so slightly, but you could hear Oikawa whimper and blush because of your ministrations, and you felt incredible because of it. You decided to deep-throat him. As you sucked and masturbated him with your hand as well, you slowly saw Oikawa get more and more flustered, as if this were his Achilles talon.

“Baby, don’t you dare stop.”

He said this as he grabbed your head with one of his hands and started moving it at a higher pace. This was difficult for you as you were in need of air and you were choking at times but he didn't really care; he just wanted to come in your face. And when that moment came, you were a panting mess with cum coating your face. He admired you, looking at you as if you were a trophy to admire and take care of.

He didn’t wait for both of you to calm down; he made you stand up and bent you over the bed. Once again, he slapped your ass, this time leaving various red marks on it. He pumped his length twice; that was all he needed.

“You’re on the pill?”

“Yeah.”

And with that, he aligned himself with your entrance and started to thrust. Oikawa loved the view, how your ass bounced every time he thrust into you, how your tits were a fucking mess, and your muffled moans. Oh, your moans—those were music to his ears; he couldn’t describe it otherwise than an angelic cry. You were being stretched out by his dick; it was big for you, and he did not give you space to adapt; you had to adapt to him. Every thrust felt like a piece of heaven given to you.

He placed one hand at your hip and the other one in your clit, stimulating you. He wanted you to come; that was clear, and there was something you wanted from him as well. When you felt his first moan, you knew he was going to get close, so you asked what you wanted.

“Don’t pull out.”

“Baby…”

“I’m on the pill, It will be fine, I swear.”

And when you came, he came afterwards inside you. You felt happy as you plopped down into bed with him beside you. He kissed your forehead and helped you clean up, and as you were both feeling tired, you decided to sleep.

This surely was nonsense, but at least you now have someone to rely on when you need to blow stress off.

Thank you for reading <3

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blessedwithabadomen · 2 days

Text

in love with the mess - day fourteen

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : angst, fluff, overthinking, mentions of drinking, mentions of throwing up

length : 6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens @sunsshinesunny

a/n : sorry about the delay!!! I'm going on holiday and it was all very stressful and hectic and then we had to figure out how to get to the airport tomorrow morning because the trains are suddenly not running lmao but here it is!!!

•••

day fourteen

“You… you told-”

Noah didn’t even manage to say it out loud. He didn’t need to. Oli and I were just as aware of the fucking blunder we’d just made. The one that might change everything now.

We should have told him earlier. We should have told him, period. Not risked letting him find out. We’d truly fucked up. Too wrapped up in our own happiness and love to really grasp the consequences. How ridiculously selfish of us.

The room had fallen awkwardly silent, or maybe the ringing in my ears was simply tuning out everything else. Either way, there were still people around us, people who had no business listening in to this, people who didn’t need to know anything about our situation. I wasn’t actually sure if anyone even cared - but all the people running around us were distracting at best. Oli seemed to think the same.

“My dressing room, now,” he simply said, no harshness in his order, yet none of us would have dared to decline.

No more words were exchanged as we made our way through the labyrinthine hallways of the arena. We didn’t touch each other, suddenly hyperaware of every single one of our movements, as if they would be watched and analysed and scrutinised. All of us kept our heads down as we passed by a multitude of people and the general vibe we were giving off seemed to do enough to keep everyone else away. We weren’t in the mood for small talk. Or any talk at all that didn’t include just the three of us.

Oli held the door open for us as we passed him, then shut it after he had entered himself. I’d never felt this out of place in my life. The chaotic, stuffed dressing room that had started to feel close to a second home, even if the actual location kept changing, now did nothing but suffocate me. All of us lingered in the middle of it. No one sat down. As if comfort wasn’t allowed.

“How long?” Noah’s voice seemed painfully loud in the quiet dressing room. The door shut out the noise from outside remarkably well.

“Two days ago,” Oli answered, as if it was no bother at all, as if this wasn’t potentially the most crucial conversation the three of us had ever had, but I could see it in his eyes, in the way he tried to hide his hands fumbling with nothing in particular. “I didn’t mean to say it, then. I mean, I love her, but it just tumbled out of my mouth, really.”

“We didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you,” I added. My whole body ached to reach out to Noah, but the fear of how badly the rejection would sting kept me frozen in place. “We meant to talk to you, there just… We didn’t know how or when. I know that’s the shittiest excuse ever. We should have made the right moment to tell you.”

“So what does that mean now,” Noah all but interrupted. His eyes were flicking back and forth between Oli and me, restless and nervous. He didn’t even seem to process any of the information we’d just told him, even if his brain was probably going a hundred miles an hour. “You two are… a thing. And you still fucked me this morning. Why?”

It was my turn to be stunned. Did he really not know? Was he so completely unaware? Or was he simply trying to shield himself, ignore everything that had happened between the three of us in the past two weeks? Because in my mind, there was no way he didn’t know that this was more than just the three of us fucking around. Or me and Oli getting together. In all the ways that we had complicated and confused this whole thing, it had always been about the three of us. Surely.

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!”

The outburst pierced the silence painfully but it wasn’t until Noah and Oli both stared at me in shock that the realisation dawned that it had been my outburst. I was the one shouting these words. But as soon as it sunk in, I knew I wasn’t done. Some invisible dam had burst - I was going to speak my mind and I was going to speak it now. No more holding back for the sake of others or blindly agreeing for fear of rejection or letting anyone else take the lead.

“This wasn’t just some weird ploy to get Oli and me together and you get stranded on the sidelines. This has been about the three of us from the start and you know it. So what if Oli and I got there first. I’ve been ready to shout about my feelings for you from the rooftops for days now, Noah. But I didn’t. Because I knew it would scare you away. And I was desperate, Noah, desperate for that not to happen.”

I took a breath, trying to keep a hold of myself, trying not to unravel. I willed the tears in my eyes to disappear but all that happened was that one escaped me and dramatically slid down my face. Noah, somehow, was the first one to react, wiping it away so softly that another immediately followed.

“Every time Oli and I are alone, it feels like a part of us is missing. Like the bed is too big, even when it really isn’t. Or there’s a remark hanging in the room that you would make but you’re not there to say it. I don’t want to do this without you. I want you. I don’t know how this is going to work and I don’t really care because I know we’ll figure it out. I’m in love with you, Noah.”

I couldn’t deal with the way he was looking at me. Especially because I, for once, felt so completely, wholly unable to analyse it at all. Was it pity? Oncoming rejection? Insecurity? Love? I could only hope for the latter, but my emotions were running amok in my body and there was no certainty in anything anymore. In anything but the fact that I was so in love.

Noah was still standing in front of me, but his hand wasn’t on my face anymore and I missed it dearly. All I wanted was to throw myself into his arms and beg him to give the three of us a chance. But this was on him, and him alone.

“She’s right, you know?” Oli piped up next to me. He was much braver than me, pulling Noah close, putting his hand to the other man’s neck and letting their foreheads rest against each other. “We’re not complete without you. I… Noah, I’m in love with you. And, fuck, I never thought I’d say that to a man, but here we are.”

He kissed Noah then, deeply and passionately. It was all he could do. I only hoped it would be enough.

“We don’t want to rush you, Noah. But that’s where we’re at and I… I would hate for this tour to be over with unspoken things lingering between us. So, I don’t know, take some time, talk to us or don’t if you need to be by yourself, whatever you need. But, please, think about it. About us. It’s the only thing I’m asking you for.”

Noah nodded, keeping his head hanging low and staring at the ground now that Oli wasn’t holding him up anymore. I let my hand drift to his jaw, making him look at me. I simply needed to press a kiss to his mouth. The chances that I might not get to do it again were too high.

He felt sweet against me, reciprocating the kiss with a familiarity I had grown so accustomed to. But he didn’t initiate anything else. I let go of him and stepped back.

“I’ll give you an answer. Tonight. I promise.”

Believing in him was all Oli and I could do.

•••

It felt wrong to sleep alone. If I’d already been lamenting the fact that Noah was missing when it was just Oli and me, I’d completely forgotten just how awful it would feel to have neither of them next to me in bed. The cold was seeping into my bones, one that couldn’t be fixed with any number of blankets or heating in the room. I missed feeling their bodies around me, feeling the mattress move every time they shuffled. Missed their hands on me, their chests pressed against my own and my back. Their slowing breathing filling the room with the slightest noises that had me drifting off to sleep so easily. Now I was too cold and the room was too quiet and my brain was too loud.

We had tried to be reasonable about it, really. We’d gotten a ride back to the hotel together and while I tried to savour every moment with them, it had been the most awkward situation we’d managed to find ourselves in just yet. When we had lingered in the hotel hallway, unsure of how to proceed from here, Noah had said that he needed some time to think, alone, and that it would probably be for the best if he just went back to his room with Jolly. We’d bid him goodnight, not attempting to kiss or hug him or initiate any other physical contact, and he’d ended up waving before walking down the corridor. Like a stranger.

Then it had just been Oli and me, again. I’d made him hold me, for a while, needing the closeness and the reassurance that we could somehow be fine whatever happened now, but we didn’t talk. Only to agree that we should sleep separately for once. It simply felt… wrong to allow ourselves to spend the night in an attempt at what would hopefully become a steady relationship when Noah was still struggling and confused and neither part of it nor outside of it. Plus, I knew fully well that we would end up talking the whole night, not getting a wink of sleep and instead stressing ourselves out even further.

Not that I was getting much rest on my own now.

Picking up my phone, I once again, for what felt like the seventieth time that night, opened our group chat. There wasn’t very much in there to be honest. Most of the time, it was easy enough to locate each other in the venues or their rooms. And if I was looking for someone specific, I usually ended up texting just that person. The other one was probably with one of us already anyway.

Still.

My fingers hovered over the screen. And then they typed, before I could stop them. I clicked the sent button as soon as the last letter had appeared. Just to make sure I wouldn’t back out again. Then I chucked the phone as far away from me as I could while still being able to hear my alarm in a few hours and turned around, hoping for sleep to come, hoping for my brain to give me some peace for at least a while. Hoping those two men would feel the same way I did when they read my message.

I miss you already.

•••

I ended up running late which was something that rarely happened and tended to be in my top ten most stressful situations in life. I had been so preoccupied with leaving on time or at least not too late to make my flight to Dublin that I didn’t even remember to check my messages until I was in the car to the airport.

Noah Can we talk tonight? The guys want to go out but maybe after?

There was about an hour of nothing in the chat, I presumed Oli was asleep or simply not checking his phone at that time, before another message from him came through.

Noah I miss you too Both

Then silence, again, for a few hours. Oli had apparently gotten up earlier than I had and, somehow, had been more organised. Or at least enough to text.

Oli Think everyone’s keen on going out tonight We can meet up at the hotel afterward? My room? Please don’t make me stay on my own again, I couldn’t even get any rest without you (Aubrey) clinging to my shirt until it almost choked me and you (Noah) terrifying me with your sleep talking in the middle of the night

I wasn’t going to cry in the cab. Even if I did end up clutching the phone to my heart as if it physically held the people I loved and not just the messages they had left. Maybe it was going to be alright after all. Maybe we could make this work. Maybe, even tonight already, we would be right where we were supposed to be - next to each other.

I didn’t get a chance to reply as the driver pulled up to the airport. But I would get to talk to them later tonight, at the very latest. And that made my heart that little bit lighter.

•••

“I’ll let you know that I was only slightly panicked about you missing the flight,” Becky said as I reached my gates, mere moments before boarding was about to start. I huffed at her, pretending it was because I was shocked at how little faith she had in me, not because I was legitimately out of breath.

“Which would have been annoying but not the end of the world, pretty sure there's more fights from here to Dublin than just this one today.”

“Not if they all get cancelled because of the storm.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Storm?”

“Yeah, it's pretty windy already so it's not clear whether later flights will go ahead. Wait, you don't look too well - are you- are you afraid of flying?”

“I'm afraid of turbulences,” I admitted.

“Well, then,” Becky said, reaching into her bag as she ushered me towards the counter where they'd just started boarding. “Here's to hoping your surprises will keep you occupied!”

“Wait- plural?”

She didn’t feel the need to answer me as she instead pushed me forward to get my ticket checked and then ushered down the way toward the plane. I was already on the aircraft when she caught up with me, briefly waiting as I took my assigned seat in the middle, which was only bearable because the window seat was taken by Noah. He sent me a tired smile, making me wonder how much rest he’d gotten during the night, as I slid into the row.

“Have fun!” Becky squealed, putting a folder in my hands and vanishing down the aisle of the plan before I could stop her. I briefly looked from the now vacant spot to the folder to Noah, who had a small but knowing smile on his face.

I quickly stored my luggage and got comfortable - as comfortable as possible on a flight - and only got briefly interrupted when Oli walked down the aisle next to me, throwing a kiss in my direction the way he had done the night before, then throwing another to Noah, who accepted it with the blush I had grown to love so much on his cheeks.

“Do you know what this is about?” I asked as more and more people filled up the plane, boarding finally finishing and the crew getting ready for takeoff.

“Maybe,” he chuckled, giving me one more look that I couldn’t quite get a grasp on, then busying himself in the comic in his hands, one I recognised he’d bought on our trip to Forbidden Planet a while ago.

Realising I wasn’t going to get any more information out of him, I decided I might as well try to preoccupy myself with figuring out what exactly Becky had given me during take off. It was the worst part of the flight anyway. Well, minus the landing. And any turbulences.

However, there simply had to be one more interruption.

“Is this seat taken?”

Confused, I looked up from the folder, already questioning what sense that question could possibly make on a fight with assigned seating, when my eyes spotted-

“Lia!”

I tried to jump up but the seatbelt I'd already buckled painfully pulled me back. Noah quickly reached over to undo it as I stood up, folder almost crashing to the floor, my arms wrapping around my best friend as if I hadn't seen her for years. It felt like it.

A stern look from one of the flight attendants had us sit down immediately, getting settled and ready for take off.

“What are you doing here? I don't understand!”

“Did you know Becky is super nice and also definitely able to bully people into giving her my number and telling me to get my ass here?”

“Wait, so-”

“Well, apparently Oli requested my presence too,” she continued, completely unfazed by my questions, “and we both know he's asking for you and not because he loves me so much. Also the hotel had a free room for the next two nights, how handy, right? So here I am, taking you out drinking tonight and trying to punch some sense into all of you guys. Hi, Noah!”

Noah waved awkwardly and then handed me back the folder I had almost forgotten about. He just have caught up when I'd almost dropped it.

“Have you read it yet?” Lia asked, almost jumping in her seat. I shook my head and then buried it in the papers in front of me.

Nothing made sense.

I skimmed through the pages, then back to the first one, as if it might just have been my English skills inexplicably leaving me, but no. I was seeing - and reading - correctly. With a frown so tight it almost hurt the skin on my forehead, I read through the contents, properly now, absorbing every word.

I wasn’t sure how long I took, flipping through the pages, back and forth, just to make sure I was reading correctly, that I wasn’t hallucinating these words, that this was for real.

“This- I mean… I-”

“You're getting an apprenticeship, Aubrey!” Lia shouted so loudly that someone from the row in front of us turned around with a frown. “Becky asked the company she works for and they're offering it to you. Said that the past two days were basically your try-outs. You're gonna be a sound technician! Well, if you accept, of course.”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled, flipping through the pages again, and again. This whole thing felt like a fever dream I was not ready to wake up from. “And in a few days I would-”

“Come on tour with us and shadow Becky,” Noah completed my sentence. “Not the most conventional way to start learning the basics, but when have any of us ever been. Conventional, that is.”

I didn't have time to think about the implications of his words or how they could translate to a completely different issue too. All I could do was put a hand over my mouth in shock and cease to fight against the tears that were starting to spill down my cheeks in abundance. Both Noah and Becky hugged me as much as they possibly could with all of us stuck in our seats. Even the turbulence couldn't faze me anymore.

Life might actually be looking up.

•••

If there was one thing Lia knew how to do, it was how to keep me occupied and distracted. We spent most of the day chatting, which included a lot of me rambling about my chaotic love life - I only cried once - and her fawning over her wife and how she needed a change of occupation too. On top of that, we decided to have lunch at the hotel restaurant, where we promptly bumped into Becky, who allowed me to ask all the questions about the internship offered and then almost bowled me over in my chair when I asked the waiter for a pen to sign the contract straight away.

Since all of us had the night off, we ended up agreeing over several different group chats to go out big style - crew, Bad Omens, Bring Me The Horizon, well, and Lia. Even though she had a room of her own, she’d practically gathered half her suitcase and made a home in mine as we got ready together.

Yet, all she seemed to do was veto every outfit I showed her until we finally landed on an oversized pullover I used as a dress (just about sexy enough for her, comfortable enough for me, who wasn’t actually looking to attract anyone new that evening) and a pair of fishnet tights that would do nothing at all to protect me from the January cold but would hopefully look less out of place once we were inside again.

“So, what’s the plan with Noah, then?” Lia asked as she dropped down on my bed, spilling some of the setting powder in her hand and then trying to rub it into the duvet as if I hadn’t seen. “Because all I see right now is you and Oli sitting around waiting.”

“What else is there to do?” I sighed. I genuinely felt at a loss. We’d put the ball in his court. We’d told him how we felt. We left the decision up to him. But would all of that be enough?

“What’s the biggest issue right now? Like, what’s his fears?”

“Probably that Oli and I have a stronger connection with each other than either of us has with him. That we already know each other so well that he’ll be the one left out.”

“Sounds like you guys need more time together. The three of you. Completely ignoring what you and Oli might know about each other from before and just focus on finding yourselves in this relationship now.”

The silence lingered for a moment as both of us got lost in our thoughts, the mascara I was in the middle of applying now forgotten in my hand. I stared at myself in the mirror, made up and dressed up, and wondered who I was. Someone in love. Someone who was willing to fight for it. I was so over being passive.

“What can I do?”

“Well, first of all, put mascara on the other eye too because you look very asymmetrical.”

I rolled my eyes but did as she said, knowing that if I got too carried away, I’d completely forget about the rest of my makeup anyway.

“Give yourselves more time?” Lia offered.

“Tour ends tomorrow,” I thought out loud. “The Bad Omens tour isn’t until the 27th and the flight to Berlin is on the 26th. Now, I know Oli is completely free the next few days and I can ask around again but I’m pretty sure Noah has a break until then as well.”

Lia simply let out a hum in the background of my monologue, just to let me know she was still listening as I started scrolling through my phone, typing and searching.

“Fuck it,” I decided. “I’m booking us a family room for the next few days after tour. Nice hotel, just outside of Dublin. No distractions, no one else we know around us, no shows, no appointments, nothing. Just the three of us. There. Booked. Do you think the hotel can print something for me?”

Lia looked at me like a proud parent which was unnerving at best but I ignored it.

“I’m sure Oli would love to go and ask with you,” she grinned as I pulled on my shoes and was already halfway out the door, jacket and bag at the ready.

“Meet you downstairs in a few?”

“Will do! Don’t get distracted by Oli’s dick!”

•••

“What if he doesn’t even notice?”

“Of course he’ll fucking notice.”

“You don’t know that! He might not look this way and then just stumble over it!”

“What if we knock?”

“But we’re supposed to drop it off without him seeing!”

“Fine. I’ll knock and we’ll run and hide around the corner.”

“What are we, five?”

“Yes. I’m knocking now.”

I quickly dropped the printed paper along with the post-it stuck on top to the floor as Oli all but pounded on Noah’s hotel room door before bolting down the hallway with me and stopping just around the corner, pulling each other to safety and then peeking around just as we saw him step out, confused. We stayed hidden until we heard the door fall back into its lock and then spared another glance to make sure he had picked up our notes.

“You think he’s going to do it? Come with us for another few days?”

“Well, a luxurious hotel and both of us, he’d be stupid to refuse,” Oli chuckled, but I could tell the anxiety weighed on him just as heavily. There wasn’t much more to do, really. We’d told him about our feelings. We wanted to spend the small break that all of us had together, no distractions, just getting to know each other better and figuring out how this could work. It was truly his turn now.

“Come on, stop worrying that pretty head of yours so much,” Oli said, pressing a kiss to it. “Let’s get Lia and see what Dublin has to offer, yeah?”

I simply let myself fall into his arms a little as he led us toward the lifts, ready to forget about the ache in my heart just for a while.

•••

The night ended up not being all that wild, after all. Everyone was feeling the exhaustion from the past two weeks on tour. It didn’t mean that the pub we had all gathered it wasn’t in danger of running out of spirits, though. The mood was high and the volume in the room seemed to be getting louder by the minute. I’d already saved various people from Lia various times because if someone didn’t know how to shut her mouth when intoxicated, it was her. I’d currently lost track of her once again which was slightly worrying, but the more drinks Becky was providing me with, the less I cared. Her husband wasn’t back company either, although he seemed ever so slightly overwhelmed with the rowdy crowd around us.

“Are you excited to go on the Bad Omens tour then?” He asked, an arm around Becky, who was currently distracted by someone else who was telling her about some sound system or other, and I only briefly let myself fall into the yearning of having that kind of stable relationship, the kind of love that people would see from miles away without any of us doing anything, the kind of connection that shone through even when we weren’t talking.

“Did everyone but me know about this?”

“Well, yes,” he laughed. “As far as I know it was a joint venture, Becky, Lia, Oli and Noah all huddled together to make this happen. I guess you’re very loved.”

“God, don’t make me sappy now,” I chuckled but it was nothing but an attempt to keep the tears at bay. I’d been crying entirely too much lately, for a number of reasons, and I was getting a little tired of it.

I excused myself momentarily, citing a bathroom break, but found myself standing outside the pub instead. The cold air sent shivers up and down my body, but I didn’t mind all that much. It was a nice reminder that I wasn’t only in my head. That I was here right now. I flinched when a hand landed on my waist, a gesture so strangely intimate I knew it to be Noah before I registered anything else.

“So you two really want to spend more time with me alone after this tour?” he asked, jokingly, but he couldn’t fool me. I could see the insecurity in his eyes, in the way he stood, in the way his hand lingered on my body without quite grabbing it.

“Noah, love, I’ll always want to spend more time with you.” My hand was on his chest now, hard and lean under my fingertips, and it took all the strength I possessed not to pull him in and kiss him stupid. “If your tour wasn’t coming up so soon after, I’d probably have booked us in for a month.”

His fingers ildly played with the fabric of my makeshift dress. “Maybe-”

The door from the pub banged open with more force than it should have been able to. A rather tipsy Lia stumbled out, obnoxiously pointing at Noah as she came over.

“You! Folio threw up on the bar and they’re kicking him out and I’ve been told you’re the one to bother. He needs to get back to the hotel and you guys are sharing right? Come on. I’ll help.”

Noah sighed, deeply, but looked at me once more before turning away. “Can we talk later? The three of us? Not in my room though, for obvious reasons.”

“Sure,” I chuckled. “Oli’s room later? We can shoot you a text.”

“Perfect,” he said and then he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips and I could really believe this was going to work out.

•••

The night was dying down earlier than I would have expected, but both Oli and Mat kept loudly complaining that they were not 25 anymore after all. I bit back a comment about how that luckily hadn’t impacted Oli’s performance in bed. As more and more people started leaving, Oli clung to me, leaning his body on me with much more force than necessary, then giggling at the way I almost buckled under his weight. He was a little tipsy, just on the verge of it, and it made him all kinds of needy and whiny. Although I wasn’t quite sure if that was actually down to the alcohol or if he was simply in a mood.

“I want Noah,” he mumbled into my ear as he rested his head on my shoulder. It seemed horribly uncomfortable with the height difference, but I patted his hair in what I hoped would be a calming and reassuring gesture anyway. “I miss Noah.”

“I know, baby,” I cooed. “Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can shoot him a text.”

“Please.”

The cold outside seemed to wake and sober him up considerably as we got into a cab to get back to the hotel. He immediately pulled me into the middle seat, claiming the distance was simply unacceptable.

“Thank you for helping with the job situation, by the way,” I whispered, as if it was a secret, just for the two of us. “The job, offering me a place to stay, getting me on this tour in the first place… I really don’t know how to ever thank you for everything you do for me, Oli.”

He grabbed my face then, gently, so I would look at him. Then he kissed me so deeply that I was getting lightheaded, all sensations swimming through my brain in one big mush as I allowed myself to drown in them, knowing he was holding me and keeping me safe.

“You could keep on loving me, that’s all I’ll ever ask for.”

“Well, that’s going to be very easy,” I giggled, pressing a kiss to his nose right as the driver announced our arrival.

The hotel was quiet as soon as we left the reception area. I wondered if Noah was still busy taking care of Folio. If I should text him immediately and ask him to come over. If he wanted to talk to us yet. My train of thought was interrupted when we arrived on our floor and none other than Lia left Noah and Folio’s room, quickly running over to us as I shushed her for being too loud in her heels.

“He’s finally stopped puking,” she gleefully announced. “I’m off to bed now. Noah… Well, get to your room. He’ll get in touch?”

“He’ll- what?” I asked, but Lia was already bouncing down the hallway again, refusing to stop for clarification. Oli simply shrugged his shoulders as he unlocked the door and held it open for me.

It only took a few moments.

The knock wasn’t as much as a surprise, considering we were basically waiting for Noah, but the fact that no one was there when we opened it felt a bit comical. Especially when we realised a folded up piece of paper was on the floor in front of us.

“This feels like payback,” Oli laughed breathlessly, quite obviously just as nervous about this as I was. I refused to let the overthinking get the better of me though as I bent down to pick it up and unfolded it while Oli closed the door again. When I saw the amount of text, I ushered him in the direction of the bed so we could sit on the edge and read it together. He had to help hold onto it so we could still be make out the words amid my shaking.

Aubrey, Oli, my loves.

I’ve spent the last day doing very little else but think about everything. I’ve been trying to find a winner in the war that kept waging in my head but it seemed impossible.

Well, Lia didn’t allow that. She’s quite a force, isn’t she? As soon as Folio was in bed, she basically held me at gunpoint (figuratively) while she told me what she thought about the situation and how much of a “fucking useless idiot” I was being. Then she made me write a pro and contra list on the back of this page because apparently that’s what she does when she can’t make a decision. I’m not sure if buying a new phone quite compares to this, but I humoured her. And I think it helped. Just don’t tell her that.

Noah

There was a slightly messed up heart drawn next to it. The hope was rising up in my throat like bile, threatening to make me throw up just from the sheer terror and excitement about what was happening. We were so close to an answer. This was the moment.

Oli nodded at me to turn the paper over as soon as he was also done reading. He looked white as a sheet and I was sure my own face mirrored it. My shaky fingers only got worse when I flipped the page over.

There was indeed a list in front of us. Lots of entries on the “pro” side. Ranging from “They make me laugh” to “I feel safe with them” and “They know I’m scared and they don’t mind”. The contra side was shorter, but still held a few bulletpoints. “The distance”, “Third wheel” and “How to make this work??” were scribbled there.

But none of that was the important part.

The important part was that the list had been crossed out, liberally, with a massive “x” over the whole page, making it a little harder to read some of the points. And in the middle of it, almost from one corner to the other, covering even more words, he had written one single sentence. One sentence that seemed to count more than all the others. That made everything else not matter. That made clear that he had come to a decision.

I AM IN LOVE WITH THEM.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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vettelsvee · 1 day

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tag f1 game! tysm to @watermelonworries for the tag 🩷🫰🏻

whos your favorite f1 driver?

the man on my profile pic aka sebastian vettel. if we consider he’s already retired (😔), lewis is my fave driver from the grid!

do you have any other favorite drivers?

yep! from current grid my faves are fernando, oscar, george and lando :) if we take into account retired, mark, jenson and nico are my golden trio 🙏

who is your least favorite driver?

checo, i’m so sorry. never liked him, but absolutely respect him and won’t throw hate towards him (however, i just hate some of his comments towards women, you know what i might be talking about)

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

drivers! but i’ve been a ferrari fan since 2010, when fernando joined the team

if you like teams, what teams do you pull for?

ferrari and mercedes are and will always be my favourites

how long have you been into f1?

since forever, actually! my dad started watching f1 when fernando joined, back in 2001 if i remember correctly. i was born in 2002, so i was introduced in f1 culture since the very beginning of my life

what got you into f1?

my dad! as i said before, f1 has been in my life since forever. a fun fact is that he really wanted me to be a hardcore fernando fan, but i turned out to be a hardcore fan of the drivers he used to hate the most: ✨seb and lewis✨

i have a really funny (to me) anecdote about how i became a lewis fan lol. one of the first words i learned in english was ham, which means jamón in spanish. so every time i read on the grid ham, i used to call lewis jamón

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

for sure, but i don’t have time to read as much as i’d like to + i don’t have many fics recommendations (drop some if you have pls!)

how do you view new fans?

well, tbh i have mixed feelings with this. while i’m so happy the sport i love the most has more fans, and i can get to meet all the people i never got to meet when i was a child and people laughed at me for like something that was “for men”, i sometimes feel like i’m in the one direction fandom and that f1 itself it’s just a boyband

if you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?

ferrari, because it’s the team i’ve supported the most and, also, my all time favourite f1 drivers (seb, lewis and fernando) were/will be drivers 🥹

are your friends and family into f1 as well?

yes! my mum watches the start of the races in case there’s an accident lol. she likes the sport a little bit but gets bored watching races. and my dad, of course. however, he stopped watching races back in 2015 because he was tired of seb and, also, f1 started being streamed only on platforms where you had ti pay and tbh we didn’t have money to pay for subscriptions. i was the one who stayed (and watched all seasons until last year illegally, sorry)

are you open to talking to other fans/friends?

sure! i try to stay as active as i can and talk to many people as i can (on tiktok and wattpad mostly), but i’d love to meet new people, so don’t be afraid to reply this post, comment whatever you want, and have a chat with me! i promise i’m good vibes and don’t bite ✌🏻

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kiwinatorwaffles · 2 months

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hmm. i'm usually not one to post about these topics but i think i've gathered enough thoughts on wilbur's abysmal apology towards shelby to form a cohesive message.

WARNING: the rest of the post will discuss abuse and also a lot of my personal experiences as someone who has hurt other people in the past. obviously not to the extent that wilbur has, but please move on it you don’t want to see it. thank you and stay safe.

being stuck in a hard place, whether it be living conditions, mental conditions, or any other factor, will naturally hurt the person going through those tough times. and hurt people hurt people. but i think there's a pretty Big Fucking Difference between doing bad things in the past and actually owning up to your actions after regretting it VS doing bad things in the past and turning a blind eye against those you've hurt to wallow in your own ego and misery.

i’ve experienced my fair share of abusive friendships, but when i was fifteen, i WAS the toxic friend. (yes, i’m aroace. friendships aren’t the same as a romantic relationship but they can be just as strong. i value my platonic bonds as much as allos value their marriages or date partners.) i was going through a huge depressive episode. it was tough for me, but during that time, i made fun of my friends' interests to their faces because i couldn't personally understand it, and i also vagueposted about the little things they did that ticked me off right where they could see it. it got to the point where they had to make a separate group chat to talk about their interests where i wouldn’t see it. i hurt all of them, and it ended in them confronting me about my actions. they put me in my place and called me out for my horrible attitude.

after seeing my friends' perspectives, i realized just how awful i was to them and sincerely apologized to each of them. i recognized their feelings towards my actions and didn't make excuses. even though i was going through a hard time myself, my abuse towards them was absolutely NOT justified. as i recovered, i made sure not to hurt them any more, and years later, our friendships are still going strong.

my experiences aren't nearly as extreme as what wilbur has done to shelby, but i think it's pretty fucking clear that his apology was flaming dog shit served on a trash dump. like, i was a fifteen year old. he's a Grown Ass Man with a big platform. he dug his own grave by talking about himself first instead of actually addressing his mistreatment of shelby first and foremost. he didn't even MENTION shelby by name. talking about his "strides to betterment" without even directing his apology towards the person he actually hurt is just pathetic. that whole spiel about how he "thought" the whole exchange was consensual is fucking wild. he didn't even apologize for that; he moved on right afterwards.

we can infer that wilbur has been struggling with being a person who has done bad things through his songs and lovejoy's music. he might have been going through a hard time and maybe even regretted it (though his apology really makes it seem like he's just doing it for damage control), that STILL doesn't validate any hurt he might have caused. the least he could’ve done is to sincerely apologize to shelby, even if she didn’t accept it. but he couldn’t even do that.

it's just disappointing that, as someone who has a platform of millions of followers, he displayed an act of shallowness. in the end, his attempt at sincerity fell flat and benefited no one, especially not the people he abused. if he had properly apologized, even if his apology wasn't accepted, it would've shown people in a similar situation how to apologize to the people they hurt in the past in a mature and sincere way.

so, yeah. FUCK wilbur soot. focus not on the fact that he has done bad, but that the one he abused didn’t get a proper apology. support shelby and other victims of abuse. listen to their experiences and spread awareness of these cautions. uplift their voices, not his.

for those who have connected to his and lovejoy's music that have gone through a similar dark time in their lives, i also extend my heart out to you. it must also be hard to see someone who reflected your struggles of betterment reveal himself to be someone who really hasn't gotten better at all.

but you don’t have to be like him. you don’t need to follow in his steps as long as you own up to your mistakes, even if you can’t talk to those you hurt anymore. in the end, what matters most is that you apologize in a sincere way and make sure you don’t repeat those mistakes going forward.

you CAN get better. if anything just so spite that british boy’s ass

thank you. kiwi out ✌️

#ask to tag #discourse #am i yapping? maybe #but i just really wanted to say something about it because. ugh #actually not sure how i feel about tagging him any more but i do want to spread the word and trigger tag #shubble #wilbur soot #tw abuse #abuse ment #also after all this i still can’t hate lovejoy. their songs portray the aromantic struggle in ways not many other bands have #but that doesn’t mean i won’t replace their songs in my playlist with a local file upload get fucked lmaooo no money for you until #you get your shit together #kiwi’s calls

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transmascutena · 2 months

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thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

#akio and utena #m #long ramble in the tags sorry:#the thing about akio is that he's so evil bit he's also so human #he has feelings. i just don't know what they are (if anything) toward his victims #he loves anthy at the very least i'm sure of that. even if he hates her too. just like she loves and hates him. the lines are blurry.#and i just. i have to wonder whether any of that extends to utena at all. we know anthy at times feels similarly about utena and dios #(and akio by extension.) the simultanious love and resentment. so it's not too unlikely i think.#like. even though he never had anything but bad intentions in getting close to her #i'm not sure it's possible to do everything he did and feel nothing #not that he has any meaningful amount of guilt or remorse for it. i don't think that.#and i obviously don't think he “loved” her in any of the ways she might have thought he did #but did he not care at all? did he not feel any kind of fondness or sympathy or just. idk. pity? for her?#whatever the case it wasn't enough to reconsider having her killed so you know. how much does that actually matter anyway #idk. i think about it a lot. how abusers are rarely entirely indifferent toward their victims #the role he's playing in her life is so fucked up but it IS a role he's playing and i wonder how much he you know... internalizes it?#how much does he believe the illusion of family that he invites her into? because akio DOES often buy into his own illusions.#(similarly i think it's possible that akio is fond of touga too. their mentor-protégé relationship is horrible and abusive #but that doesn't make it less real. you know? maybe real is the wrong word.)#when he talks in episode 25 about wanting utena and anthy closer that's obviously so he can continue to groom her #but is there something genuine there too? i don't know.#again. it obviously does not make anything he does better or even different. but it is interesting to think about to me.#on the other side of that coin does seeing his own past youth and naivete and desire to do good that he (maybe) once had #reflected back at him through her mean anything?#is there resentment there? that she is what he couldn't be? or more likely he just thinks that idealism is stupid.#either way it's something he wants to take from her. anyway ramble over.#i talk a lot about utena's feelings toward akio (familial vs romantic love and the way the two are intertwined in fucked up ways)#but not much the other way around. probably because utena is actually a sympathetic character whose feelings the show very clearly #wants you to analyze and think about.#which is... less true for akio i think. though he's still a complex character with complex motives. he's just harder to get a grasp on.

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irregularbillcipher · 8 months

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going over old fic notes and outlines and character talks with friends and it's always really funny when i get to the stuff i was developing early-mid 2019 where bill just literally kept kryptos around to rag on, and he genuinely just. did not like the man. like was just completely annoyed with his general existence. boy have things changed

#for anyone curious: i came to the conclusion that no amount of 'this guy sucks but he's fun to bully' would get bill to keep someone around #for like literal eons. bill gets bored of his toys too quickly. he'd break 'em. plus the fact that bill decided he was worth saving to begi #with. there was at first an element of 'i owe the guy' because [FIC SPOILERS] and a grudging 'if i had a gun to my head i'd say he was my #best friend i GUESS but do not tell him that' but no real genuine friendship or anything more #before realizing that with the specific story i was going to tell it just made the most sense to have these assholes still be like.#bad people for sure but to actually care about each other. it also just felt too easy to write bill off as someone whose cruelty is just #a lack of certain emotions. like that doesn't automatically make a bad person and a bad person doesn't automatically lack emotion #(there's a character that'll be introduced sometime soon who is aroace and doesn't make friends easily and she's lovely because...)#(idk man. i'm aroace and why shouldn't she be. a lack of affection doesn't make you bad and the ability to feel it doens't make you good)#so bill can and does love people-- even if actual vulnerability is near impossible to get from him-- and kryptos is included in that #it's just that he still sucks really bad and hurts and even kills people that he loves because again. bad person who has no idea how to #navigate relationships healthily because of his own baggage and the environment he grew up in #(also in canon he usually does not want to navigate relationships healthily because. again. he sucks!)#so the only lasting relationship he's ever had where he isn't trying to hurt someone is still just... messy as hell #(and to be fair kryptos is also a p. bad person by adulthood it's just that they're pretty young at this point in the fic)#(so there's less avenues to show that)#kryptos being desperate for any scrap of attention and bill providing the only attention he's ever gotten was always the vibe #but it really was much more of a 'bully and bulling victim who he lets hang around him because said victim'#'is like the only one willing to talk to him' dynamic which is... very much not the case anymore #as said in the tags of my fic. these awful shapes care about each other as best they can care about anyone #anyway sorry idk how much anyone really cares about these tag essays but theyre helpful for me to get my thought process like... down #and track how different the story used to be

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winter-spark · 7 months

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I notice that even though Citron's my fave, I spend more time here talking about Orange and Navel.

I think it's fear of being wrong.

#I can say with upmost confidence that everything I say about Orange and Navel is accurate #that's a joke but I do feel like I can say “whatever I want” and not feel like I'll be horribly wrong about it #I've even discussed with myself why if it turned out Orange and Navel were actually born the same year as Citron it'd still make sense #that's not my fave age breakdown but if someone else or the game said they were I'd be like a'ight that's fine I guess #I don't want to say something wrong/inaccurate about Citron tho because the thing is that no matter where I go I'm the odd one out somehow #and I don't want to know what I think on Citron might be wrong I love him and so I'm extra sensitive there #I even have a whole partial joke post that no one reacted to (okay it's a ship post but he's half the ship so...)#that shows me no one agrees with me so I should keep to myself #also tho Orange and Navel are just easier to come up with headcanons for lol #But like like like when I write Citron he's actually the least independent to himself brother if that makes sense #(I'm not sure it does... it's explained better a couple tags down but I'm not saying he doesn't have his own interests #but rather some of his interests/opinions are somewhat influenced by his brothers & he's like that the most out of the four of them)#I mean I haven't written enough Tangerine to compare him here so he might be more but then again he's very opinionated and sure of things #so who can say yet #(I say as if I've written any of them much at all. Genuinely this might not be an entirely fair comparison but still.)#Citron & his brothers #as for how I write Citron he like like has approximate knowledge & mild interest in certain things bcuz he knows his brothers are into them #which is kinda the reverse of SenriMono huh?#but to me it makes sense for Citron because he doesn't want to be fighting with his brothers he wants to be on good terms with them #so I think in the back of his mind he takes interests in things and has thoughts like: 'maybe I can talk to them about these things one day #or 'if there's a point when we're not fighting I'll ask ____ about ___'#you know?#these tags are too long #sorry for rambling #I legit could've just made a separate post with them #but then I'd be putting my thoughts on Citron on display and that'd be scary so I won't move them #I'm almost certain no one reads my tags anyway #still. sorry to the person who actually does and had to read through all this #idk why you didn't stop but I appreciate you regardless :3 #by the way did you know there was a 30 tags tag limit? I just found out lol

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sttoru · 19 days

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your bestfriend, satoru, sends your cheating boyfriend a rather explicit video of the two of you as revenge.

tags. best friend!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. dōggy style. dirty talk. crēampie. reader gets called ‘pretty, angel, baby’. cheating. consensual fīlming. anon req.

“mmshiit, should’ve fucked you long time ago,” satoru hisses, his hips stuttering against the plump flesh of your ass. he’s unable to stop himself now that he’s got his pretty best friend underneath him—in a sinful position he has only had wet dreams of.

one moment you’re crying because of your cheating boyfriend and the next you’re getting your guts rearranged by your bestfriend who comforted you through it all.

your mascara stains satoru’s pillow, your drool doing the exact same. you’re acting like a total slut for his cock, mewling for him to give you more, to give it to you faster and harder. all of which is caught on tape.

“yeah? want more, baby?” satoru coos as he holds up your phone with one hand. his other one is gripping the side of your hip—keeping your ass perked up so he can continue hitting that right spot inside of your greedy cunt. the white-haired man snickers behind the camera, “c’mon—tell your boyfriend just how much y’ need your best friend’s cock.”

you know satoru’s filming himself hitting it from the back. it’s nasty, but it only serves to excite you. you know your ‘boyfriend’ will be enraged once he receives the erotic video from you. he’s never liked satoru neither, always preventing you two from meeting each other. which was a red flag by itself.

you’ll show that hypocritical bastard.

“need more, ‘toru, please—” you babble, your voice muffled by the pillow. your body jerks with each hard thrust. every move is made with precision, with the intention of pleasuring you until your insides remember the shape of his dick only, “fuckk, ‘tis too big.”

satoru grins smugly. you’re basically admitting that he’s way bigger than that excuse of a man you’re dating. his ego gets a huge boost and it shows when he drives his throbbing cock deeper into your tight cunt.

“awwh, i know, but i bet my sweet girl can take it,” your best friend encourages you through a raspy voice. the fact that he called you his ‘sweet girl’ drives you insane. your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

satoru’s eyes nearly roll back from the way you’re gripping him. he moves his other hand around your hips until his fingertips find your clitoris. he over stimulates you until you’re crying of pleasure.

you end up clenching around his fat dick even more. it feels like you’re trying to snap his cock in half with how much you’re sucking him in. there’s not a chance of it slipping out of you.

satoru moans loudly without any shame, letting both you and your boyfriend - who’d watch the video later - know how much he enjoys pounding your cunt like it’s actually his; “y’re so fucking tight. you sure your boyfriend’s been fucking you?”

you feel embarrassed by how much you’re enjoying his dirty talk. satoru’s drilling his cock into you so well to the point that you’ve forgotten all about the intimacy you shared with your cheating boyfriend. it was nothing compared to how satoru is treating you right this moment.

the white-haired man continues, still not believing that he’s finally living out his dreams. your body is heaven to him. satoru can’t help but whimper at the feeling your pussy sucking him in so desperately, “feels like your pussy hasn’t had any dick in a good while.”

the way you’re basically screaming into the pillow is enough evidence to confirm that your boyfriend has never fucked you properly at all. that delicious arch of your back, that ass of yours bouncing back on his pelvis in circles. . . satoru just knows it.

you hiccup and try to speak. you know your boyfriend is going to see the video and that only drives you to be more vocal than you already are. you’re going to get revenge and you’re going to make it as painful as possible.

“y-yeah,” you agree with satoru’s words. your words are basically slurred—too cockdrunk to properly talk. you lift your head up for a second to breathe and continue your whiny babbling between moans, “he’s n-never fucked me as well as you—ngh!”

your voice is perfect. everything about you is. satoru isn’t sure if he’ll even last long like this. he wants to claim you as his girl already. he wants to thrust his cum as deep as he can inside of you so you’ll only think of him.

“poor, poor baby,” satoru pouts and rubs your ass gently as he watches it bounce back at him with every thrust. the view is hypnotising. he cannot grasp the fact that your boyfriend fumbled such an amazing girl like you, “it’s okay. i’ll make it up to ya, mhm? i’ll treat you like a real man would.”

you nod and whimper in agreement, which gives satoru the green light. you’re going to be his at the end of this session. he’s going to claim you as his—finally—after all those years.

you feel yourself start to tremble. you feel tingly all over and your moans are getting louder. the curve in satoru’s dick is making your mind go blank. it makes his tip hit the deepest spots inside you, the right spots. you’re desperately searching for that sweet release.

“aht, aht, angel,” satoru clicks his tongue whilst deepening the arch of your back. his fingers trace the shape of your spine, feeling you shiver from the touch as he pounds you silly. “hold it in, yeah? need you to cum for me when i do. wanna fill this cunt to the brim.”

you try to hold on the best you can. after a couple more thrusts, satoru’s breath turns shaky and his noises turn into whimpers—a sign that he’s on the edge, “fuck fuck fuck fuck! baby- ‘m gnna cum!”

you gasp and your body spasms and squirms as you reach your climax at the exact same time. you feel your cunt being flood with spurts of semen. it’s so much—as if satoru’s been storing all of it just for you.

“there there. such a good girl,” satoru sighs and pulls out of you after making sure that you’ve settled down. he takes his dick out as slowly as possible, pointing the camera right at the lewd sight. his entire length is coated with a mixture of your slick and his white cum.

you shiver at the feeling of being left empty. satoru soothes you by pushing his cum back into your pussy with two long fingers. he films the entire process, focusing on your stuffed hole for a few seconds before putting the phone up.

satoru points the back camera at the both of you, getting the entire view of the messy bed. he grins and puts a peace sign up—ending the video with a mocking yet cold smile that’s directed to the man who’s going to be watching this video soon, “should’ve treated her better.”

oh, your boyfriend is going to be fuming. deserved..

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #divider by benkeibear

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makoodles · 4 months

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ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place.

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training.

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you.

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz.

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything.

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs.

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication.

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them.

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago.

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement.

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate.

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly.

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side.

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person.

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention.

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin.

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself.

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life.

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him.

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder.

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language.

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe.

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy.

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them.

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands.

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone.

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now.

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now.

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end.

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar?

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.”

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide.

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him.

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries.

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant?

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But…

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl.

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks.

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly.

It takes you a moment to process that.

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting.

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you.

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp.

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity.

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together.

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear.

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs.

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly.

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately.

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot.

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt.

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine.

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant.

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves.

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown.

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock.

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering.

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost.

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this.

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy.

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there.

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button.

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you.

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves.

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response.

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away.

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick.

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside.

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely.

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs.

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it.

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed.

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery.

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything.

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

#okayyyy here we go!#simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut

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unproduciblesmackdown · 9 months

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knock on wood but already had the thought about how the potential What If winstuk of ostensible post-7x03/WDE could just be....boisterous. effulgent. vibrant.

#and it could Not Be. we could have tuk be like i; specifically; hate you; specifically. bit of a damper esp. not assuming further material #but if there's the setup for Contrast Surprise in ''everyone hates winston & has been assaulting him or not moved to make sure he's not #assaulted all day'' bad time & he ends up Unleashed. perfect time to meet just out of frame like knock knock it's me your actual friennd...#anyways i have boundless thoughts; feelings abt WDE Impends that i won't try to expound & enumerate via thirty tags limits #representative is how atm the vibe is [mild] but earlier did have an adrenal response to secondhand info. which is also just a tuesday but #winston billions #winstuk #it could sure just be everyone lining up for a last chance at telling winston they wish he was dead & then forget he exists next ep #like what happens when he's been offscreen for a moment all these five seasons lol #and of course i've thought abt ''well it's not even off the table he litchreally dies offscreen lol lmao''#it's just like 4x11 time to lose forty followers overnight #causing mpc problems? maybe someone will kill you for real.#then his life will have served its highest purpose: upping the stakes for people who matter (rian going ''hope that doesnt happen to me'')#but this would be as likely as anyone following up on winston ever to even realize if he's alive or not. maybe if they Had to ask him smth #billions probably wouldn't be that mean but who even knows. do you want maximal drama out of the winston sendoff or not #like thanks for naming an episode after him and his dick energy i guess....could've just written him out offscreen entirely #but i also have the standards of ''yes i'm gonna be pissed if/when they write him out w/o treating him like another Person in universe''#and even if they do at all in some ways. i'll also be annoyed if they stick to the tradition of not letting taylor talk to him #i know someone official liked my livetweet about that backpat. you all had better do any damn thing. sigh. anyways #only Some expounding. the winstuk setup potential could also be cuntrageous as it'd be great if winston could be more generally

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Adam x reader but they’re still alive and she’s the third wife made for him and he eats pussy for the first time 🫢🫢🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

You ready my fucking mind! I was thinking about this for a few days.

Pairing: Adam x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, first time cunnilingus, praise, hair-pulling (for Adam), cum eating, praise, clit stimulation, Adam's ego, Adam hates Lucifer

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: I am actually taken back by how much I love Adam. He's an asshole for sure but he's a charismatic asshole.

Adam moved his body against yours, quick rapid-fire cumshots making your insides tingle with warmth. It coiled at the pit of your stomach and stayed there, uncomfortable and heavy and annoying as hell. Maybe more annoying.

"Thanks for the fuck, Babe." His satisfied smile was cute if a bit too smug, like he just accomplished something big by coming inside your pussy. You whimpered as he pulled out, "Woo-hoo-hoa. There's so much, keep that shit in there, are you even trying to make kids or nah?"

Naturally procreation was high on the list of priorities for the two of you. As his third wife you wanted to give him something his first two wives couldn't, a real family. "As much as you are. But you know that's not the only purpose of sex right?"

"Of course not. My dick feels so damn good when we have sex!" Adam pointed down at the mentioned dick, half-hard and covered with both your cum.

"Yeah... and what about me?" You took his hands and pushed them towards your pussy.

"Oh. Oh yeah. I guess I can finger you. Gotta push that fucking cum back in." He chuckled and bent his middle and ring finger, his long digits closing in to your pussy before you grabbed his wrists, "What the fuck, you bitch?! I'm trying to be nice! You don't want my fingers or something?!"

How the hell was the one offended here? "I didn't say that Adam. I... want your mouth. Okay, happy? Is that what you wanted me to say?" Instead of grinning in victory like he usually did when he got you flustered he blinked in confusion. "Don't you think it's only fair after how many times I sucked you off?"

"W-Well... but... you love to suck my dick!" God he was so childish sometimes. How was he the first man and the man you fell in love with? God truly does work in mysterious ways. "I shouldn't have to eat pussy to make you feel good."

Okay. Time to pull out the last weapon you had. "Bet Lucifer knows how to eat pussy."

Adam was human. He was. But the look he gave you in that moment would make any demon shiver. "What was that?! Think I can't do better then that asshole?!" He pushed himself down and pinned your legs apart, "Fucking watch me, Babe." He was all talk right now. The moment you smiled at him he looked... awkward. He was the first man, he should be good at this, he should be good at everything.

Yet his licks were slow, experimental, insecure, way too light between your folds. "Adam. You can lick harder." He let out a grunt and quirked his eyebrow at you, he hated being told what to do. "I need you to lick harder, it would make my pussy feel so good if your tongue could- ah!" There it was. A little praise, a little persuasion and he was doing as you asked.

"Can't forget about this little thing right here." His teeth pressed against your clit, your pussy clenching and pushing more of his cum out. "I see how it is, you want more huh? Enjoying yourself? Tell me."

"Yes. You're doing good, Adam." Your hands brushed through his messy brown hair, not so much directing him as giving him a reassuring massage, "Your tongue is divine."

"You bet this cunt it is. Praise me more, Babe, scream. Let everyone hear how good I'm giving it to you." Adam's tongue descended lower to your cum-filled hole, pushing back and forth, "Damn I taste good. I see why you like swallowing it." Of course he somehow made this about himself again. It didn't matter. He was still doing as you asked, making you feel so fucking good.

"That's right, you're making me feel good with your tongue. Only you can make me feel like this. Only you can make me come from eating me out." That was all he needed in order to do just that. To know he was your one and only. Your hips bucked into his face, your back arched, toes curling while he licked and kissed and finally went back to sucking your clit. "Adam! S-Sto- oh my god- wai-!"

He wasn't stopping. Adam always did as he wanted. You came on his tongue, in his mouth, and now that he's accomplished that he wanted to do it again. You watched his tongue move across your clit, spelling his name on it, "There. Now this clit, this cunt, is all mine."

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #adam imagine #adam headcanons #adam fanfiction #adam smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel #x female reader

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saintobio · 7 months

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blank canvas.

problems arise when your tattoo artist boyfriend starts getting too cozy with the girls that wanted him to do more to their bodies than just inking their skin. the thing is, they knew what he wanted and they knew what you couldn’t give.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags. nudity, insecure!reader, virgin!reader, dry humping, mentions of needles, mentions of cheating, slutshaming

notes. if you’ve been here for a while, yes this is a repost from an old hq fic :’D i rewrote and remodeled it for sukuna bc i feel like he fits this au!

part 2 | part 3

Sukuna had seen it all.

He wasn’t dumb and he most definitely wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he was attractive, bringing him a clientele of adoring women who would frequently visit his tattoo parlor. Who could blame them? He was handsome, had a good physique, and an overwhelming aura that pulled the attraction of many women, single or not, who were desperate to vie for his attention. His tattoos and his dyed hair even added to the overall bad boy persona that he had which, to be fair, was a girl’s guilty pleasure.

The women were very assertive, it seemed, to try and lure Sukuna into their little seduction game. Was he getting tempted into it? No. He was loyal and he’d like to stay loyal to his kind and beautiful girlfriend. After all, winning you over wasn’t as easy as it would with any other girl.

However, there were certain moments that almost tested his loyalty to you, especially when some of the women would ask to have their tattoos done on the most intimate places of their bodies.

Take yesterday as an example: one girl asked to have a tattoo on her buttocks and she was certainly more satisfied at the feeling of Sukuna’s palms on her bum rather than the actual tattoo she was getting. And to top it all, she bluntly asked if he offered more service rather than just giving tattoos. Crazy.

He had previously mentioned it to you that as part of his job, he was obligated to give his clients the tattoos they requested, regardless of where on their bodies they wanted them. It was strictly business. Ironically, despite dating a tattoo artist like himself, you had no single trace of inked art on your body. You were an untouched canvas that had never been painted on. Still, Sukuna respected your choice and he surely respected your boundaries even more.

He knew that you had always been a gentle girl when he first met you at the floral shop across the street. You were always prim and proper, always dressed modestly, always following the rules, and always doing the right thing. All you cared about doing was to express your love through the delicate petals you arranged in your flower-scented haven. You were happy to be in your own little bubble, content in the company of fragrant blossoms and soft-spoken solitude. Introverted. Reserved. Pure. Unassuming. He was the exception to your goody-two-shoes nature, because he ended up winning your heart despite being the complete opposite of you. It wasn’t an easy task, either. Deciding to get to know you was on a whim at first, since he was intrigued about your simple joys in life and how you weren’t the type of girls that would visit his tattoo parlor. Something about your demure nature pulled him in until he realized that there was nothing else he wanted in this world but to make you his. He began by greeting you every morning from across the street, then giving you the same bouquet of flowers he purchased from your shop, followed by sending you texts complimenting how beautiful you looked as he watched you from his store, and finally asking you out on spontaneous dates.

It may be a bit peculiar to see the two of you together, but Sukuna pursued you because liked you. He was undeniably in love with you. He liked your smile, liked how cute and adorable you were, and liked how a simple look at you made him want to be a better man. He loved the idea of being with a girl he could protect.

The main issue was, Sukuna dropped out of college and just decided to open a tattoo parlor business because he simply didn’t want to waste his years studying for something that he wasn’t passionate about. But that was the source of your parents’ distaste. They told you that you had no future with a guy like him. They said that they would disown you as a daughter if you decided to choose him. They called him dirty, rebellious, and uneducated.

At that point, he thought that you would leave him after learning his rather reckless choices in life, but you stayed.

You left your parents' home and stayed with him.

And he was grateful that you did.

So to ask the question again, would he ever do something to betray you after everything that happened between you two? Of course, not. Not in a million years, no

But then again, he was also just doing his job and it wasn’t like he was purposely flirting with the girls that often flocked him during work hours. He was simply accommodating a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

And on one of those typical days, he had to work overtime when one of his returning clients asked for her fifth tattoo to be done by him. He just finished picking up the tools he needed as she walked towards the recliner seat asking, “Should I sit here?”

He nodded once, turning around to face the girl who looked at him with her alluring eyes. “Yeah, just let me know when you’re ready.”

Oh yes, she was surely ready. She even had a smirk displayed on her face when she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, keeping her gaze at him while teasingly revealing her busty pair.

He didn’t really pay attention to the size of her tits but instead, just casually pointed to a certain part of her body, “Is this where you want it?” he asked, referring to the lower left part of her breast.

With a very flirtatious grin, she nodded, clearly knowing that her assets were her biggest weapon. “Yes. Would it be easier if I took off my bra, yeah?”

“You don’t have to. I can work it out,” he casually responded, reaching for his glove and busying himself with all the tool preparations.

The girl let out a silent giggle along with her best friend who sat on the side, waiting for her turn. Waiting to be the recipient of Sukuna’s full attention. Sigh.

“No, I can take it off for you,” the girl insisted, unclasping her bra and setting her huge breasts free for him to ogle at. They were perfectly round, probably a 40D, and a light pink shade for her nipples. With how firm they were sitting on her chests, she had probably gotten them done.

He cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he asked her to sit on the recliner chair. Sukuna had seen women half naked in his shop before, but this was the first time someone willingly got naked in front of him, most especially with other intentions rather than to simply get a tattoo.

Because of the awkwardness, he went ahead and blasted some heavy metal music to distract his mind. He had to think of something else and not stare at the girl’s luscious tits. He had to shift his mind to somewhere else like, for example, why the girl chose a calligraphy of the words ‘la douleur exquise’ on her skin this time.

“Is this French?” he nonchalantly asked, motioning for her to rest her back while he wiped the chosen area with a damp cotton pad. He specifically avoided brushing his hand on her breast, but it looked like the girl was actually angling herself to make him touch it more.

“It means exquisite pain,” she purred, batting her thick eyelashes at him.

His lips formed a smirk, impressed at how much of a skank she was willing to be for him. It wasn’t new, as established before. He’d also had a fair share of women who tried to get into his pants last week, but none of them were successful. He actually found it entertaining to watch them do all sorts of stunts to make him give in. To make him submit himself to his carnal desires. He was a man after all. He had needs, he had to get some form of release, otherwise it could pose a problem in his masculinity.

All while she was getting her tattoo done, the other girl got up from her seat to walk closer to her best friend. Sukuna decided to refer to them in his head as Slut 1 and Slut 2 because he had no intentions of knowing their names. He knew slut-shaming was terrible, but he never said he was a man of virtue and truthfully, how else could he describe them?

“Hey, Sukuna,” the other girl called, sitting at an empty stool with a smile. “You’re single, right?”

He kept his eyes focused on the skin he was inking on. “...No.”

Even from the corner of his eye, he knew that both girls looked surprised, “No way? You have a girlfriend?”

Was it really that much of a shock?

“Yeah, she owns the floral shop across the street,” he mumbled, wiping the trace of blood on the girl’s skin after he finished another letter.

There was a visible pout on Slut 1’s face as if learning that Sukuna had a girlfriend was more painful than the needle pricking at her skin. “So, what’s she like?”

Sukuna thought for a while because he didn’t know where to begin. It was too much of a long story for them to hear about. You were everything he wanted in a woman and that was all he knew. “She’s cute and kind.”

His words earned a giggle from Slut 2. “Is she like the good girl type?”

“She is.” He figured it would be okay to converse about you like this. Besides, he would rather be talking about you than to have these girls just try to flirt with him relentlessly.

“How much of a good girl, though?” Slut 1 egged on, “I bet she’s a virgin and a prude.”

That was obviously none of their business, but damn. They hit a nerve that they shouldn’t have. No one else had managed to bring up a topic like that to him, more so a topic that he himself knew not to cross. His sex life wasn’t as fruitful as anyone thought so, yet not once in his life did he complain. Not once did he talk about it to anyone. Not once did he tell anyone that he had been dating you for a year now and you two never really went further than making out.

“I respect her,” was his answer, much to the two girls’ dismay.

“That’s kinda boring, though,” the other girl claimed, draping her arm around his shoulder before leaning close to his ear. “You’re still a man and you have needs. If I were her, I’d sleep with you every day. In every position.”

The girl on the recliner chair grinned. “Totally! Like, you’re so hot and I feel like you’re good in bed.”

Fuck.

He almost messed up one of the letters because his mind just flew to somewhere unforgivable. It was a sin to even think about, but shit, he definitely missed the feeling of fucking someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he did so.

“Sukuna?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked up upon hearing the familiar voice, only to find you by the door, your eyes filled with hurt.

“Hey—”

Your voice was caught in your throat as you avoided his gaze. “I just... I thought you were done.”

In a swift motion, you hurriedly walked out of the room before dashing out the door. You didn’t even bother to look back, dead set on leaving him alone with the girls. Your footsteps were far too quick to even catch and he was hoping that you would at least slow down.

“Babe!” he called, unable to chase after you as you shut the door. An exasperated sigh followed.

This was going to be a big problem

Just what was he thinking?

He had a half naked girl in front of him and another girl clinging to him like he didn’t have a girlfriend. It must have hurt you a lot. No, it definitely wrecked you.

“Uh-oh...” the girl mocked. “I can sense trouble”

He decided to leave it be for now and get his job done as soon as possible, even thinking of banning the two girls from going into his shop just to avoid further trouble. He had a lot of explaining to do and he couldn’t wait to go home to make sure that you would listen to him, not overthink the whole thing and place your assumptions because hurting you was the last thing he would do.

At least, he hoped you knew that.

You were washing the dishes when Sukuna came home and the first thing he did was to wrap his arms around you. He had your waist caged in his tight embrace, his chin resting on your shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings to you. To be real, you weren’t in the mood to see his face after what you saw this afternoon. You get it—he was exposed to all sorts of people with his line of work and most of them probably couldn’t just ignore his physical appearance. You were aware that some girls were only getting a tattoo to get close to him. Heck, you were aware that they all wanted to be with him.

But the only reason you were hurt wasn’t because he was desired by women, but because those very same women were all better than you in more ways than one. They fit his type more than you did and you were sure that they could give him exactly what he wanted.

Still, it awfully tugged at your heartstrings.

He was yours, not theirs. You had the right to be jealous when a girl was getting cozy with your man, but to see him letting them have their way? That was a different story.

“Baby, talk to me,” he mumbled, planting a soft, apologetic kiss on your neck.

You gave him the silent treatment as you walked away and dried your hands with a towel. What else would you say? He should already be aware of why you were acting that way. He should be the one to try and talk to you, not the other way around. And with your stubborn mind, you did your best to keep your insouciance, pulling his tattooed arms off of you and heading towards the couch.

You could hear his sigh as he followed you, but you were determined to keep your eyes glued on the TV screen. If he wanted to talk, he should do the talking, you reminded yourself over and over.

“You’re really pissed at me, huh,” he spoke as soon as he sat next to you, a hand carefully placed on your thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?” The bitter question left your mouth before you thought of holding back.

He scooted closer and hooked an arm around your shoulder this time. “Definitely nowhere near as hot as my girlfriend.”

What a load of… You rolled your eyes, remembering how the girls looked and how comfortable he was with them. “Yeah, right.”

You couldn’t explain the tightness on your chest every time you recalled the scene earlier because you knew, you just knew, that there was more that could have happened if you didn’t check on him. You saw it in his eyes, even for a split second, that he almost gave in to temptation. How could he not? You were a prude just as they described—just because you didn’t have any sexual experience like they did. Perhaps when they called you boring, they were right and Sukuna wanted to agree.

He couldn’t be stuck with a girlfriend that he couldn’t even have sex with, could he?

“I shouldn’t have let them put their hands on me like that,” he admitted, showing his dire attempt to look apologetic. “Only you can.”

You took a deep breath and shook your head. “I don’t even know why you’re still with me, Sukuna. I put so many boundaries between us. Don’t you get tired of me?”

“Fuck no,” he quickly answered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Never. You’re the only one for me.”

Truth be told, you did feel bad that he couldn’t fully experience you as a girlfriend, but he had been very patient and respectful towards you. He never crossed the line and never forced you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He said he was doing that because you never gave up on him even when you had the choice to. He said that you were worth waiting for. He said that he was satisfied with what you two already had.

Maybe you could let this one incident go, after all, he was never really a bad boyfriend to you. Sure, he looked like a bad boy, but when it came to you, he was surprisingly soft.

“Okay,” you muttered, sighing in defeat and finally meeting his eyes. “Just don’t do it again. I don’t care if they get naked in front of you. Please set some boundaries and don’t entertain them too much or you’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Your leniency earned a smile from him, delighted to earn your trust again so he made an effort to peck your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” you professed, placing a hand on his cheek, “so much.”

Pleased with your words, he leaned in again to give you a much, much deeper kiss. He knew it was all he could do with you, but he wanted to make you feel that his kisses were satisfying enough for the both of you. Just with the way he moved his lips against yours and how your tongue rolled around his—it was almost impossible to breathe at one point, but he softened the kiss to allow yourself to catch some air.

Gosh, you were jealous again. You were becoming annoyed as your mind ran at full speed, thinking of how those girls thought they could put their hands on your man. You were livid at how they tried to steal him from you.

“You’re mine, right?” you asked for reassurance, pulling away to look at his dominating eyes.

The smirk on his lips was replaced by a cheeky grin. “All yours, darling.”

You didn’t know what gave you the sudden confidence to straddle his lap after he said that, but it just felt right. You wanted more of his physical affection and felt like you couldn’t get enough. Both of you were taken aback, obviously, because this wasn’t something you would normally do, and so the heat on your cheeks was mixing with the surprised look on his face. You were sitting directly on his crotch and he was having a hard time to control himself.

“Babe,” he breathed on your neck. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

He was right, but the thought of the other girls constantly seducing him behind your back just gave way to your deepest insecurities. You didn’t have the most perfect body in the world and you most definitely didn’t have the skills in bed that he expected—you were scared that you might lose him because of these facts. Or that he would find someone better, even at the cost of having them on the side.

“Hey,” he spoke again, making you look at his eyes as you relaxed into his touch. “It’s fine. If you want it, I can be gentle. We can go slow.”

“I-I don’t know... I just,” you hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it into words.

You didn’t know why sex intimidated you. It should be as easy as 1-2-3, just him putting his member inside you, right? But you weren’t really scared of doing the act itself, you were scared that once you did it, he would leave you because he already got what he wanted. Losing it to the wrong person sounds like a nightmare and that was why you were having trouble coming into terms of losing your virginity before marriage.

You could feel the hardness on his crotch pressing against your core and you didn’t expect a moan escaping your lips when you moved at the slightest. The fabric of your shorts were thin enough for you to feel the outline of his hardened member, displaying a prominent bulge on his sweatpants. You haven’t seen how big he was, but you could tell just by looking at his bulge that he was huge. Could you even take that?

He held your waist and guided you to move again, this time urging you to move your hips back and forth, allowing you to feel the friction from his hard erection. Lust was clouding his eyes and it made you feel weak.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his hot breath tickling your ear.

You continued grinding on him with your lips parted, releasing your silent moans, “G-Good.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, eventually sucking the soft skin to leave his beautiful marks. “I wanna eat you down there, baby,” he growls under his breath, squeezing your right breast, “You’re gonna taste so good, I bet.”

“Suku—” you whined, gripping his hair while he started matching your movements with his own. It was a foreign feeling for you to feel his bulge rubbing against your untouched core.

“Fuck,” he cussed in a low voice, squeezing your ass with his huge hands in growing excitement. “Let me get a condom.”

This was it.

It was happening.

Or was it?

Your eyes widened in panic as you pushed him back onto the couch. It was as though all of your senses were awakened and your body was telling you that you shouldn’t be doing all this. “N-No, I... I’m not ready.”

You didn’t mean to always chicken out when you two were almost about to do it. You just didn’t feel confident enough to give yourself yet and even if you badly wanted to, you just couldn’t make yourself do it.

You could see the hint of disappointment on his face and he was trying to hide it.

“Right,” he exhaled deeply with his head thrown back on the headrest. “It’s alright. Maybe next time,” he convinced himself.

“I’m sorry,” you softly mumbled, hand gripping on his shirt.

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before pulling you out of his lap and getting up from the couch. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fine.”

You stayed seated as you watched him walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I have to finish this off on my own,” he answered without looking back. You realized he was referring to the act of touching himself because you just couldn’t do the job for him. It was obvious how frustrated he was and for goodness sake, you did feel guilty, but then again, he didn’t act like this before. When you told him you didn’t want to do it further, he would simply laugh it off and say he would wait for you.

This wasn’t the same Sukuna that said that.

You became a little paranoid.

Considering that girls would still pay your boyfriend a visit at the tattoo parlor, you always ended up overthinking about what he was doing while you were supposed to be busy at the floral shop. In the middle of arranging a bouquet of beautiful peonies, your mind was on haywire. You just didn’t feel at ease. You felt like anyone could easily snatch him away from you because you weren’t particularly a striking girl to begin with. You were leaning on the simple, conservative side rather than the rebellious, liberated women that swarmed his shop in hopes of sleeping with him.

Because your thoughts were eating you alive, you decided to head to his tattoo parlor after closing the shop to make sure that he wasn’t doing any funny business.

And you were somehow right.

About three girls were in there this time, two of which you had already seen a couple of days ago, and they were already leaving the parlor just as you arrived.

“You’re really amazing, Sukuna,” one of the girls told him in gratitude, “I might get another one soon.”

You watched them walk past you with a smug expression on their faces as they left the shop. Sukuna had then seen you standing by the door with your arms crossed.

“Really?” you questioned, walking inside with a frown. “They’re here again?”

He sighed and walked back to his station while cleaning the mess from the tattoo session. He wasn’t even trying to win you over anymore. “I can’t just ask them not to come anymore. They’re still clients.”

“Let me guess,” you continued, “Did one of them get naked in front of you again? Did you let them put their hands all over you again? Did you perhaps forget that you had a girlfriend again?”

His brows, now furrowed in annoyance and his mouth, thinning in displeasure. “No. We talked about this.”

You held your breath, raising a brow in return. “I’m starting to think you’re doing more for them than just giving them tattoos.”

“Like, what? Sell my body?” His question was clearly a taunt. A spasm of irritation crossed his face, but he still managed to display a mocking smile. “Is that what you’re suggesting, angel?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Then, what?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, trying to get your point across while keeping your composure. “You’re an attractive man and they’re the type of women you would willingly sleep with.”

“Jesus. You’re so insecure, it’s crazy,” he retorted, rolling his eyes at you.

Insecure? You couldn’t believe, just couldn’t believe he called you insecure. The air crackled with tension as your jaw tightened, muscles twitching with every suppressed urge to lash out.

“I wonder why!” Your voice rose hysterically. “If you weren’t busy flirting with those girls, maybe I won’t be so insecure.”

“I said I’m not flirting with them!” he argued, slamming his gloves on the floor. His face contorted into a mask of rage and he looked at you with frustration that you had never seen before. It hurt. It certainly hurt. He had been acting distant since the night you didn’t give in to him and you knew that his exasperation towards you was rooting from that.

Your breathing became unsteady. “But you know you’d sleep with them if given the chance. Since I couldn’t do it with you.”

“Then, just fucking do it with me instead of bitching about it every day!” he snapped, voice thick with insinuation. “I don’t wanna be stuck acting like I give two shits about your interest in flowers and whatever nonsense you like to talk about. I wanna be with someone I can have sex with, not sit on the couch all day with a boring person like you!”

His hurtful words left you frozen like a statue, unable to move while being dominated by the shooting pain inside your chest.

You knew this day would come—that he would eventually get tired of waiting around for something that he could easily get from others. However, what hurt you most was the fact you believed he wasn’t that type of guy. That he wasn’t with you solely for what you could give, but rather, for what you just had. You thought he sincerely understood your boundaries and respected your choices the very same way you respected his, but it seemed that he had another thought in his head all along.

After seeing the look on your face, Sukuna had softened his gaze and walked closer to you in reproach to his words and actions, “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean that.”

A tear fell from your eye as you looked at him with both anger and pain building inside of you. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You wanna have sex? Is that what you want?” Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. “You wanna do it so bad, let’s fucking do it, then!”

Your fingers forced their way to spitefully unbutton your blouse despite his desperate efforts to stop you. You must be going crazy. But also, he drove you to this point.

“Baby, no,” he said in remorse, grabbing your wrists tightly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m content with you. I really am, I’m sorry. Please.”

Your chest heaved as you cried, unable to stop your emotions from exposing all of your vulnerabilities. “It’s obviously not enough for you.” Your voice quivered, each word a fragile whisper trembling with the weight of unspoken sadness as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. “You knew what kinda girl I am when you dated me.”

He pulled you for a hug and kissed your temple way too many times that you lost count. He felt absolutely sorry for ever hurting you with his words, but they just hit you so painfully to the point that your gaze grew distant and your face was clouded with resignation.

“I know what kinda girl you are and I’m in love with you for it,” he reaffirmed, as if trying to get it through your head but his words were beginning to feel empty. “Please, believe me. I really didn’t mean what I said. You’re enough for me, baby. You’re all I want.”

You didn’t feel comfort from his words, but you still returned his embrace because you loved him. Because you knew, even if he said more hurtful words, that you would still love him. Sure, you would be angry, but your love for him ruled higher than your pride.

You were just scared of losing him over something like this.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear before placing a soft, apologetic kiss on your lips.

When he pulled away, your heart still felt heavy, but you managed to conceal your face with an agonizing smile.

“I love you, too.”

He ran his thumb across your cheek and held your waist on his other hand. You just couldn’t get his words out of your head even after he apologized, because you never knew he was seeing your relationship that way all along.

The girls were right. He was a man after all and he had needs.

The fact that he was staying with you despite not fulfilling his needs must be a work of charity for him, and eventually, he would get sick of waiting around. He would desire you less and less the more the days passed by and it wasn’t absolutely crazy to think that he could potentially meet another girl he liked that was willing to give it all.

The mere thought of it scared you.

“I’ll do it with you tonight,” you offered, your voice breaking, hoping that you could finally break the barrier and be enough for him.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna angst #jjk x reader

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ozzgin · 5 months

Text

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

TW: Obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual."

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth.

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship.

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave.

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you.

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window.

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing.

That settles it.

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way.

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with.

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless.

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency.

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant.

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops.

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback.

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily.

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up.

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend.

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly.

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza."

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts.

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly.

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger.

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably.

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape.

The blonde man stares at you.

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it.

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach.

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?"

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body.

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up.

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm.

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm.

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part.

Bonus: Daitou's backstory

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect.

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas."

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up.

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement.

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances.

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry.

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid."

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you.

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection.

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up.

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat.

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus.

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair.

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."