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cloudystevie · 3 months

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pavlov's dog

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pairing || mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 1812

summary || he kept you waiting and it's his honour to make it up to you.

warnings || smut! loosely depicted mafia business, daddy kink, oral fem receiving, pet names, begging, mild degradation, dacryphilia, pussy slaps, cmnf, subspace, dom!bucky

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hi. i haven't written for more than a year and a half. ive been feeling some type of way about bucky and maybe getting back to writing mindless porn is what i needed to get my creative fulfillment ive been severely lacking. please don't mind the potentially choppy smut as i haven't written in a long while. feel free to reblog and leave comments!!

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8:53.

8:53 PM, and you were still waiting for Bucky to finish his meeting. A recent competitor was threatening Bucky’s monopoly in New York, apparently, something to do with some guy who owned a publishing company inherited by his grandpa, who was looking to buy one Bucky already owned.

Whatever. You weren’t really listening when Bucky was talking about it over the phone because you were too busy keeping his cock warm.

You watch the digital clock flash another minute, and finally, your phone dings with an activity notification at the front door. Before you can try to be chill about it, you all but run to the door to greet your man, practically jumping on the balls of your feet with excitement. The door swings open, and you barely glimpse Bucky's tired and frustrated expression before it morphs into a sweet smile reserved for you, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and shine.

Running into his arms, you koala hug him as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. He expertly toes his shoes off while showering you with the same attention. “Were you waiting by the door for me the whole time, baby?” He asks with a smile.

Nodding your head yes and widening your eyes while twisting your lips into a pout, you decide to play the sweet, patient girlfriend who Bucky knows you really aren’t. “You kept me waiting for 4 whole hours, Jamie, 4 hours. I stood right by this door and didn’t take a single break until you came home.”

A hearty laugh escapes his lips at that, and you can feel the tension from his shoulders leaving as you gently rub them while still managing to cling onto him as he maneuvers you two to your bedroom. Unfortunately, both of you are well aware that patience is a virtue that you very simply do not possess.

“My poor, incredibly patient and honest baby. How rude of me to keep you waiting like this, huh?” He keeps his voice low, both in pitch and volume. It sends a tangible shiver down your spine as he sets you down on the bed. You bite your bottom lip, subconsciously spreading your legs, unable to hide your reactions from him.

Bucky loves how responsive you are to him.

“So mean to me daddy.” You whisper, “need you to make it up to me.”

Bucky licks his lips and clenches his jaw because fuck he needed this, especially after being stuck at his office for nearly 4 extra hours while you were at home looking like this. So sweet and soft and submissive for him; all he needed was someone to control because his empire in New York was being tried.

But Bucky had it under control. He always did. This wasn’t the first time he had to deal with a newcomer who decided to get a little ballsy and try and take over some of his territory.

He always did fuck you more aggressively when work had more hiccups than usual.

“Yeah, honey baby? How do you want Daddy to make it up to you? Use your words.” Bucky’s tone kept dropping, getting deeper and deeper with each delicious word he spoke to your somehow already foggy brain.

Even while he was giving you some control, he managed to maintain dominance over you, and that just flared the heat pulsing between your thighs.

“Need you, daddy, want your mouth.” You whisper, heat spreading your cheeks as you voice what you want, but a surge of pride goes through Bucky. At the beginning of the relationship, you had really struggled with voicing what you wanted, whether it was something like telling him you didn’t feel like getting dolled up to eat at a luxury French restaurant and wanted some burgers instead or how you struggled to say to him you wanted him to take his shoes and coat off before he came inside your apartment and sat on your couch. He dealt with people who feared him every day, people who never corrected him or crossed him. It was made abundantly clear you are not one of those people; you need to tell him what to do and how to do it, and he will. Bucky would bring the moon and the stars to you if the thought ever crossed your mind.

Dropping to his knees will have to do for now, he thinks.

His large palms spread your thighs as your pliant body falls back, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the show. Bucky smiles at you with hunger in his eyes as he licks his lips once again while gingerly sliding your pajama shorts down your legs. You inhale sharply as the cool air from the open balcony doors hits your core. Bucky can’t help the rumble emerging from his chest as takes in your already wet pussy, bringing his thumb up to flick your swollen clit and messily run the tip of his finger around your pussy. “You were waiting for me without any panties on? You’re that fucking desperate for me, sweetheart? Ready to bend over for me as soon as I walk through the door?”

You whimper at his fingers and throw your head back, nodding it desperately fast.

“Aww, don’t go quiet on me now,” Bucky teases, “you were being such a good girl telling me what you want. Don’t stop now, angel baby.”

You whine high in your throat as you tug on his hand that is still purposefully brushing over your clit, “Please, Daddy, just- just-”

Before you can finish your plea, Bucky licks up your slit, expertly swirling his tongue around your clit as your thighs jolt around his head, and a surprised mewl leaves your lips. “Oh god, Daddy, need more, please more,” your hands reach out to grab onto whatever you can, one hand gripping Bucky’s hair, making him hiss and buck his own hips against his tight slacks while the other latches onto the silk bedsheets.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky hums against your pussy, but to your delight, he indulges you, slipping a thick finger into your pulsing hole. Still, before you have time to react to that, he’s wrapping his lips around your swollen clit for the first time tonight and sucks on it. Making your back arch up and your legs quake as you try to simultaneously push yourself away from him but pull him closer. A near-pornographic moan leaves your swollen lips as your chest heaves. You cry out his title as he slides another long finger inside you, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on your poor little clit and soothes it with kitten licks every few seconds.

“Oh Daddy, you’re gonna- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum please, Daddy, please can I cum!” You babble, drool seeping from your lips as Bucky always manages to reduce you to a mindless, pathetic mess. It had never been easy for you to stop or slow down your orgasm, as Bucky always tended to barrel it out of you. Although you had noticed that the high that spread through your body when he permitted it was much more euphoric than the orgasms that slipped out of you.

Maybe it was something akin to Pavlov’s dog effect. Conditioning.

Bucky was aware of this fact as well. He knew your body, your mind, better than you did.

A satisfied smirk works itself onto his lips, and he grumbles something against your sensitive cunt, enjoying the way you struggled to keep your body at bay. “I dunno, my stupid little baby, dunno if you’re desperate enough yet.” Bucky’s words vibrate against you and propel you towards your high even quicker. Your whines get more high-pitched and breathy as you struggle against your boyfriend’s relentless tongue. “I am Daddy, I am desperate. Always am for you, please, Daddy, make me cum.” You whine a bit petulantly as your orgasm is right there. But he’s dangling it above your head and forcing you to obey him. So, you try the guilt-tripping route.

Tears well in your eyes, and your lip quivers, “Please, Daddy, don’t you wanna make me cum? Don’t you wanna take care of me? Make me cum all over your tongue and make a mess? Please, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cry, tears slipping down your face, and Bucky grunts, closing his eyes as he tries not to cum in his pants at the sound of your breathy pitch and the sight of tears slipping down your face.

He pulls back and curves three fingers toward your special spot, and takes his other hand to slap at your swollen clit in quick succession, making you squeal. Arousal paints your thighs as he quickly switches back to overstimulate your poor button by sucking on it so hard that your orgasm squirts onto his bearded face, making him groan in appreciation as he mumbles something like: “That’s it, there’s my good girl making a fucking mess like Daddy taught you.” But you are too out of your mind to really process his words as you struggle to breathe down from your high, tears slipping down your face as you bask in the overwhelming feelings of such an intense orgasm.

Bucky kisses up your thighs and stomach, easing his fingers out and tongue away slowly so you don’t go from overstimulated to zero all at once. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheeks as he shushes you, bringing you down from your high with soft words and coos that appeal to your clouded brain. You cup his much larger hands in yours, pouting your lips up for a kiss, and he chuckles before placing a soft kiss against your swollen lips. He can taste the salt from your tears, and it sends even more blood rushing straight to his dick as he ruts his hips against yours, making you pull your lips apart on a mewl.

“Daddy, will you fuck me now?” You ask with a certain lilt to your voice. Bucky scoffs before pressing his lips to yours and rumbling against your lips, “You’re an insatiable little whore you know that?”

Manhandling you to the top of the bed, he throws you against the pillows as unbuttons his slacks and pulls his hard cock out, pre-cum oozing from the swollen red tip as he looks like he could destroy you. “I’m your little whore daddy.” You tease, spreading your shaky legs apart, and he licks his lips.

—--------

Bucky worked from home the next morning. Needing the extra time to make up for the late nights and the particularly strenuous activities that led into the early morning hours.

As you sat on his lap, peacefully dozing in and out of sleep, he knew he had made the right choice that morning.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes smut #mafia! bucky barnes x reader #mafia! bucky barnes smut

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kiibichio · 1 month

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SAY IT ✩ C. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; last time you and your boyfriend, chris, had sex, his brothers heard you, you two played it off and managed not to get caught. but ever since, you’ve been insecure about your volume.. so you try to hide your noises, but chris fixes that.

CONTAINS ;; dom ! chris, sub ! reader, no use of y/n, begging kink (?), hella praise

mora speaks ;; so i was listening to say it by tory lanez and i thought abt this fic . then it left my mind 😭 THEN i saw an EDIT OF CHRIS to the song and i knew i just had to get this done. SO HERE WE AREE !! ENJOY 🙏🏾 (btw we jump straight into the story so buckle up)

date published ;; 3.20.24

not proofread

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4:11 pm

chris slams his lips onto mine while grabbing my hips and positioning me so im straddling him.

“god, baby..” he mumbles onto my mouth, “ive been waiting to do this since you got here..”

i came over to my boyfriend, chris’, house to visit my him and my friends (nick and matt). although they left about 20 minutes after i got here. claiming they were ‘getting food’ but they would probably be a while considering they never come straight back home. chris immediately took his chance and dragged me downstairs to his room eagerly. as soon as he got in he began taking his hoodie off and throwing on the floor, followed by mine. which brings us here.

after a good 5 minutes of making out, chris stops. he realizes he hadn’t gotten a sound out of me at all, which is odd because im usually the most vocal out of us two. this whole time it’s been ‘so good baby’ and ‘i missed you so much’ combined with small whimpers and quiet groans from chris. but none from me.

“hey, you’re real quiet. something wrong, ma? is it me?” he genuinely looks at me.

i sigh. there was something wrong.

“no, no! chris, baby, you did nothing wrong. you’re doing great. it’s just..”

“you can tell me. im here to listen and i won’t judge.” chris reassures me as he rubs my shoulder

“well.. it’s just- ever since that one time last week. you know, when matt and nick heard us?”

he nods, making eye contact with me.

“ive been thinking im too loud and extra… so im trying to change that. i don’t want to be an inconvenience to everyone else.”

which was true because who wants to hear me and chris fuck everytime we do. that’s also embarrassing to deal with. getting weird looks from your friends because of something that you’re were supposed to keep private, but couldn’t because of your volume? crazy.

he stares at me for a moment. did i say something wrong? then he chuckles.

“hey! what are you laughing for? i thought you said you wouldn’t judge.” i huff, pouting my lips and crossing my arms.

he throws his head back and continues to laugh, “baby.. are you serious? matt and nick aren’t even here right now.”

i look away from him, arms still crossed.

“hey. look at me, ma.” chris grabs hold of my chin and moves it, forcing me to make direct eye contact with him, “i do not care if my brothers hear us. i swear. i want everyone to know that you’re mine and im yours. i need to hear you say it. make all the noise you want, baby.”

“are you sure, chris?” i ask hesitantly

“100% positive”

he doesn’t let me respond again and immediately starts kissing me. he moves his hands up and down my body slowly, his left hand going to my ass and the right one moving to unclasps my bra under my shirt. he breaks away and his mouth travels towards my neck and chest area.

“mmh.. chris..” i whine.

“there’s my girl, keep those same pretty noises up for me while im inside of you.” he smirks against my collarbone.

he flips us over as to where im laying down on my back and he’s hovering over me. he starts moving his face downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on my stomach behind him. he hurriedly takes my pants and underwear off with one pull.

“ready, ma?” he breathes against my heat

“mhm..” i whimper

“louder, i can’t hear you.” he says teasingly

“yes, chris, please just touch me” i say, starting to beg, which i know he likes.

“whatever you say, princess.” he gives a sly grin before completely going down on me, eating as if this is his last meal.

“ohhh… fuckkkkk, just like that chris. keep going baby.” i moan loudly

chris smirks against me. hearing my noises is just turning him on even more. this makes him move his mouth faster. he loudly slurps and licks on me, trying to get more noises out of me as he lets his own out himself. my legs start to wriggle and close a bit, trying to get more pleasure. chris takes notice of this and holds them open and still with his left hand, his right being occupied with my clit, which he was toying with at a rapid pace.

“mmh.. taste s’good, baby. s’good.” he moans, face deep in my pussy, moving and hitting all the right places. he starts to quickly motion his tongue in and out of me. hands still on my clit and legs, holding them open.

“mghh.. yes, chris right there!” i yell out as my legs start shaking “b-baby, im about to-”

“do it. cum all over my face ma.” he mumurs

with one final flick of my clit, i burst and my juices start rolling onto chris’s mouth. he happily laps all of it up.

chris lifts himself up to give me a slow, heated kiss, making me taste myself on his tongue.

“you’re so good, princess. lets see if you can be even louder.” he smirks, winking at me.

he pulls his sweatpants down, his boxers following after. he gives himself a few pumps, spreading the precum all over his dick. chris looks up at me.

“ready, baby?” he asks, sweetly, lining himself up with me.

“yes, chris.. please” i whimper

he gives a small, silent chuckle at my begging before pushing himself all the way in me. he gives me a few seconds to adjust before slamming in and out of me.

“ohhh! oh my g-god…” i moan out

“yea, baby. say it. who’s making you feel like this?” he asks, relentlessly pounding into me

“you! fuckkkkk.. you chris. only y-you baby mmm..” i yell

all that’s heard now is the sound of squelching, coming from the spot where me and chris connect, moans, groans, whimpers and whines from the both of us, and skin slapping. a few moments later, he speeds up, now rapidly thrusting against me.

“chris! oh. shit shit shit shit. b-baby im close!” i warn, my legs starting to shake and my body starting to tremble under him.

“c’mon, baby. let it all out on me.” i can tell he’s close to by the way he tightens his grip on my waist and his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

“fill me up, baby. p-please.” i request.

that sentence alone makes him cum right there. and im close behind him, letting out a pornographic moan as i let my liquids out. chris’ thrusts slow down as he lets both of us ride out our high.

he pulls out and falls beside me as we take a few moments to breathe.

“that was great, baby.” he smiles at me, turning on his side so he can look at me.

“yea, you did amazing” i reply, giving him a smile as well

“im gonna go get a towel to clean us up.” he lifts himself up and makes his way to the bathroom. he returns with a damp towel and wipes me down. after that, we both get up to get dressed and make our way back to the living room. we put on a movie and wait for matt and nick to get back.

“ma.” chris looks at me.

“yes, baby?”

“do me a favor and don’t ever hide those pretty sounds from me again.” he says

“you got it baby” i laugh as i pull him and give him a soft kiss.

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mora speaks (again) ;; lmk if you guys enjoyed this oneee. i really liked writing because this is my first chris smut ‼️ ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO REQUEST AWAYYY. (might take me some time to do them but i will get to them !!) TOODLES <3

tag list ;; @sturniolos-blog @mayhem-72 @hearts4chris 🍵

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tmleia · 7 months

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warmth

don't get him wrong, wriothesley loved you more than words could describe, but something soured inside him when he walked into your shared bedroom to see you cuddling to what seemed to be…a stuffed animal? he had a childish pout on his face while having an internal conflict on whether to wake you up or not. a sigh left his lips as he slowly walked to the bed and gently took the toy out of your arms. he held the animal in front of his face and scowled, resisting the urge to throw it out.

climbing into bed as gently as he could, he curled you up into his arms and nuzzled into your neck. closing his eyes he sighed in contentment, finally glad to be in your arms.

“wrio..?” you slowly opened your eyes , voice groggy. “you're finally home..” a light smile came onto your face. the man holding you tightly smiled back, slightly feeling guilty to have kept you waiting. “I know, baby, i apologize for keeping you waiting.” he squeezed you tighter.

“it's alright, i'd wait for an eternity for you.” he blushed at your statement. then he caught a glimpse of the stuffed devil in disguise (it's a teddy bear) on the floor behind you and frowned once again. “If i may ask, when did you get that..thing.” he put an emphasis on ‘thing’. you looked up at him in confusion, “what are you talking about?” wriothesley dug his face back into your neck in embarrassment and mumbled something incoherent. You giggled and asked him to repeat. “since when did you start sleeping with that stuffed animal?” he managed to grumble out. You put a hand over your mouth and poorly try to stifle a laugh. “well you've been arriving home late lately and ive been cold. is it wrong to want to hold something while i sleep?” you laugh.

he never arrived home late after that night.

hes growing on me...

published 9.29.23

#leiasmind #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin fluff

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relocatedheads · 1 year

Note

would you write eddie munson x fem!reader smut?

where eddie’s chilling in his girls‘s room, bored because she’s taking a shower. he’s kinda snoopin’ around & finds a pastel pink book. he’s curious & starts reading it, realizing it’s her diary. he skips to the last page, dated just a few days ago. his eyes widen, not believing what he’s reading about his innocent girl.

sure they had sex. and not that vanilla, too. but he would’ve never thought his girl had thoughts like that. on this very page, his girl wrote her hidden fantasies. things she never even thought of telling eddie, too embarrassed. she’s talking about how she wants to call eddie „daddy“, or be choked, be humiliated to the brim, be filled by his cum till he’s dry, want him to be in complete control. she wants to be fully submitted to him.

before he can put the diary away she comes out of the bathroom, catching him. he confronts her & she tells him how embarrassed she is etc. they talk it out & he reversals that some of the stuff she likes he likes too. then they make out & they try out some of the stuff.

Oh my god you're an evil genius, time I put my 4 years of journaling to good use! - also ive been working on this all week and the 'h' key on my keyboard keeps getting stuck and its making typing no longer fun :/

Written Fantasies

Summary: ^^ the ask Pairing: Eddie x Reader Trigger Warnings: Smut / Embarrassment / hands on throats - no chocking Content Warnings: Diary Reading / blow jobs / impoliteness / shoe frontage / demands / deep throating / reader masturbation

MY EDDIE MASTERLIST BABY!!!!!!!

The space was as recognisable as the back of his hand, and as comforting as his denim vest: lightly coloured walls, cabinets around the room, shelves and counter tops filled trinkets and lifes memorabilia: photos of events, pretty candles, books, small trinkets of days out, wrist bands and broken watches that simply just meant too much.

Things changed every time he entered this space: photos changed frames, boxes gained new records, the cassette piles grew, and the books changed order.

Eddie clocked - while laying on your bed waiting for you to come back from your shower - that not only had the books changed but new ones were added. when he sat up to take a better look: there were 4 books, all identical sat up together leaning on a pile of published books.

The 4 were pink, all the same size, some slightly thicker, one especially thinner. All with individual dates written into their spines: 1983, 1984,1985, 1986. He weren't no idiot, his brain sorted that they were diaries.

He felt a twinge of pride for you to have the left out on display - almost like trophies, proud of your past. He knew a lot about you but you'd seemed to have never told him you wrote a diary. Eddie knew it was standard procedure you don't read people diary: just as you don't snoop in artists sketch books or dungeon masters binders. But who would he be kidding if he said he didn't wanna read it.

He thought a moment, concentrating and recognising the shower was still running. He didn't have to think too much, the boy was running on curiosity alone. Sat up on the edge of your bed, he leant over and pulled 1986 into his hands.

It started with him just flicking the pages: most of it empty; a few loose sheets tucked into the back; a pen clipped to the elastic closer. The filled side of the book was set out meticulously: a yearly planner already almost filled with exams, cheer practice, birthdays, appointments, dates with Eddie, every Tuesday marked with Hideout at 7, every odd Friday marked Hellfire!.

There was this warmness in his heart, knowing his life was just as important to you as it was for him. He believed every I love you, but know he understood every I love you.

He flicked through the book more: budget planners, goal pages, period trackers, and the body. Filled with your typical too-curly-to-read handwriting, every page filled line for line. Some sitting half empty signifying the end of an entry.

Eddie couldn't possibly understand what you had to write about for long that you wouldn't just tell him or your friends.

He found the dog eared page, the scruffily written date marking yesterday. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a little giddy. He knew he shouldn't but he really couldn't stop himself.

As he read down the page: a recall of your date to the record store and diner, small notes of your gushing over Eddie's chivalry (he always thought holding doors open and little pet names were usual things), a detailed explanation of his outfit and how you loved it (he read that a few times, remember to wear his little thigh harness around you more often.). And as he continued to read, the writting felt less confident, as though there as a topic waited to be hinted at.

He skipped over to the next page and down it, finding a few words grabbing his eyes: touch myself, embarrassing, chocked, him, daddy.

His eyebrows rested in his hairline, eyes almost leaving his skull, the warmth on his checks wasn't imagined. He jumped back a few lines:

Jesus I feel 14 again. I dont know why he does this to me. I see him everyday, and yet im still pinning over him like he's some untouchable deity.

He reads down

We have sex so much but like every night I end up touching myself thinking about- its so embarrassing! I feel like ive been poisoned!! literally none of my friends are like this about their boyfriends!

yeah we all talk about sex but they all have usual sex and normal fantasies but like I feel like a deviant. if I ever told anyone what I really want they'd all look at me so weird

but if I think about sex with him about him all I can think of is his hands and his lips and his voice! and if Im actually honest with myself, all I want is him. I cant stop. ive got into this habit of thinking about him before I go to bed and like every night I touch myself to him.

literally seem like I cant just have him- and I so can but I want so much more!

like if I really thought about it: I'd love him to just use me, do whatever. He could fuck me, make me fuck him, cum in me, chock me, spit on me and I'd be so fucking happy!

Or like, my brain keeps thinking to what if we're fucking and someone hears or we're almost gonna get caught and it turns me on so much! I feel like a pervert.

Eddie felt himself hold his breath.. he was no prude, under his bed was riddled with lost porn mags, he know a lot about kinks and fetishes but something about hearing from you - sweet, quite, calm you- shit! He was getting all flustered.

And like also! keep calling him Daddy in my mind too - I dont know where thats come from but it feels so right! I just really want him to just have his way with me. I dont know how on earth I tell him this. this is so embarrassing.

Eddie was transfixed by your confessions: the sound of the water had slipped his ears. Let alone, he hadn't heard the floor creak and wind chance as you entered the room.

"Jesus babe! You scared me- can't make a guy jump like that!" He yelped, the towel hitting the bed making him jump back into real time.

You laughed at him at first... until your eyes danced around him... and what he had in his hand. You didnt need to ask to know. And almost instantly you felt your body tense, mind go blank and cheek redden. Hands sat in on each other, lips rolled in, eye popping out almost. "Um-"

Confident as ever, he laid back into your pillows, straightening out his legs, "Didn't know you thought like this, Sweetheart.." He started reading, "Kinda want him to fill me until hes dry-"

You leapt onto him - to be honest the word doesn't cut it. You practically jumped on him, trying to grab the book from him but he was swift... dodging your hands artfully as he continued reading. His light and teasing voice was harmonised by your loud commands for him to stop. The room had laughter too: Yours was embarrassment and his was humour.

After a particularly wobbly Eddie! he put the book down, giving you a perfect moment to sling it back onto your cabnit. "Please stop." You frowned.

"Awe sorry baby," He laughed, pulling you down for a cuddle, "It's really hot though." You whined, "It is! Fuck babe," He sighed, "I really didn't think you'd wanna do anything like that!" It surpassed you how he had this ability to never be ashamed or embarrassed about anything. He dipped his head into your neck, "Like being chocked, filled with my cum. fuck, even messy..."

"Shut up!" You leant up, hands flying to his face, coving his mouth and you were straddled to his hips. "I can't believe you- I'm so embarassed!"

"Why?" Earnest and lovie as he moved your hands down.

"You were never meant to find out..."

"Why, you know im into anything?"

"Embarassing."

"No its not."

"yes, it is."

"You know," he started rubbing your thighs, "I'd love to fuck you dumb, fill you up, have you all messy-"

Now you'd be lying if you said he wasn't affecting you- you were embarrassed but so secretly turned on. Your tummy tensed, the blood went to your head, your thighs stiffened. But still your embarrassment was bigger, "Stop making fun of me!"

"Baby baby baby" He cooed, pulling your hands from your face, "I promise i'm really not."

You whined at him, he mimicked you back, pulling you down for a delicate honest kiss. It was deep and slow, him offering his truth to you. And who wouldn't melt into that? His hands now found your hip and your neck, in to your lips his mumbled "Roll over."

You gasp as he rearranges you both, your back now to the bed, "Wanna try something." He sat up continuing, "We can't your little sexual fantasies now-" You squirm in embarrassment, "But" He began stroking your cheek in efforts to pull you out your head. "I wanna try something new.""

He leant down planting a sweet kiss to your lips though you tried to chase him for a second, he was already moving down into your neck, planting even sweeter ones there. You could never stay quiet for his sightly chapped lips and heavy hands - small mewls slipped from you. "Good girl." Quiet, practically breathed from Eddie.

"We can't try the public-people-home stuff, but" another neck kiss, "I do.." another kiss to the other side, "really like the idea" a kiss under your ear, "of having you fully submitted" a kiss to the shell of your ear "to me"

The way you gasp makes Eddie sure he's hit gold with you. As he talks, your hand in his hair pulls and squeezes more, "How about," He moves along to kiss your cheek, "I get you on your knees" Another kiss, "no pillow, because desperate whores don't deserve kind treatment." A light kiss to your lips, "And I let you blow me?" Another kiss, "But" Kiss "I'll be holding your head," He was now resting on his forearms, fingers lost in your hair, "Pushing and pulling you exactly how I want?" Another light kiss met with a hearty pull of your hair, "Fill that little mouth up with my cum."

God you were in heaven - how did you manage to get a boy like him. All you felt you could do was nod at him. A tap of your thigh and you were on the floor kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Looking up at him, the shy coy expression fell naturally on you, "Pretty girl, aren't you?" He complimented. "Get on with it then." It was like a switch was flipped.

Excitedly, you get his belt and jeans off. His dick was hard and pretty as ever - not too big but a little wide, a more red tint than the rest of him already bleeding pre cum.

You got personal with it, licking the beed off, replacing it with a kiss. Eddie couldn't help the sigh - you ruin him on the daily no matter what you do. You could get lost playing with his head. He helped by tucking your hair behind your ears, keeping his hands on your lower head and jaw.

The kisses turn into kitten licks met with you looking up at him, his spaced out satisfied look made you smile, "Shit- open your mouth for me."

Sat up a bit more, the head of is cock resting on your lower lip, palms lost behind his calves: you were ready to try something you never thought you'd get to. The hands in your hair pushing you down slowly, and pulled you back up even more delicately - he giving both of you the space to gauge how yous felt.

"Suck it a bit harder" You did. "fuck-you love this, don't you?" You nod.

It was really all he needed - he didn't even need verbal confirmation, just the feel of your nails in the backs of his legs and how your eyes were rolled back and closing was enough, not to mentions the light noises in your throat. He pushed you down with more force, hands now cupping your cheeks and jaw.

He didn't make you deep throat him - neither of you needed to go that far at the moment. The half of his dick that was still straining your jaw send your brains both tumbling.

Eddie yanked you off him with a rough tug to your hair pulling a throat whine out of you, "Shit babe- you're a little slut aren't you?"

You nodded dumbly, "For you- love you."

"I love you too," A thumb stroked your cheek, "Daddy loves you."

Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was the humiliating reminder he had read you diary. Maybe it was the whispering in the empty quiet house. Maybe it was just him. But you were sure he'd just written you off to hell. You felt a beed of slick drop from your cunt.

And Eddie practically felt it too: he could see the haze covering your pretty eyes and the cheeky smile that covered your face.

A thumb toyed with your lip, he continued, "Gotta get you a little collar with my name on it." And with that you basically purred at him. Eddie was sure he was lost in you as you started to barely suck his thumb.

He'd never had you so spaced and floaty. Sure you've both spoken through sex before but nothing like this, nothing so painfully skilled in what the other actually needs to hear. Sex had never felt so possessive until right now.

The sight of you both was like it was from a porno: you, puffy lipped, half lidded eyes and big breaths; Eddie, pointed look, panting, loved up eyes.

The other hand dropped from your cheek and sat around your neck back - the pressure alone made your eyes flutter - and the sight went straight to his dick.

He popped his thumb out your mouth and brung you up for a dirty, messy, deep kiss. No coordination, just lust. Teeth smacking teeth, uncomfortable postures, hands gripping and clawing where ever they could.

He pulled away, standing up as if to leave. But you whine is stopped when you see he leant against your cabinet. Very idolly, he picked up the diary searching for the place he left off on, commanding a "Come here" using his fingers to make a curling motion, not even bothering to look up at you. "Crawl" He sneers almost as you go to get up.

Granted the space wasn't so big so the crawl was more of an awkward on-you-knees- shuffle but boy did that embarrassment climb back up inside you. If this was with anyone else, the pang of embarrassment woulda been too much, but something in Eddies low murmured tone did something totally new to you. "You're a good little pet, aren't you?"

His eyes never left the book in front of him: flicking through pages, scanning for the right sentence. He began reading off again. Completely as though it was the Sunday news paper and not your kinkiest secret fantasies.

"Eddie stop-"

"You know thats not my name." Eyes still in the book, tone stern and cold. You positioned on your claves between his legs, just waiting. "Thought you liked this? I know this isn't as good as being caught but its pretty close, right?" Finally he looks over.

The sudden feeling of something under you made you squirm, "Go on," He continued, "Get yourself off while I read your silly little diary."

The feeling that swelled in your belly was indescribable. It was overwhelming, unignorable and life changing. Like a duckling to its mother, you blindly listened: beginning to slowly rub yourself on the top of his foot.

"Suck my cock too, Sweetheart." He completely disregards you, finally finding his place on the pages. But he didn't start reading until he could feel your lips kiss his cock head.

You try to loose yourself in kissing him and the weight on your tongue but the perching reminder of what he is reading keeps pulling you out. The blood in your ears and the cotton in your brain were getting thicker.

You felt a ring or two pull on the strands of your hair, your gasps causing you to suck his in harder. You felt the rings apply more of a push at certain points of Eddies reading.

It's all sort of too dirty to really feel like its real life. Nobody really experiences this stuff right? Like it's all just movie magic? Clearly not. Clearly somehow you'd hit the jackpot. Somehow in small little irrelevant Hawkins in the mid 80s, you'd met the jack pot.

The sound of a book hitting a surface pulls you from your slack, readjusting yourself back to the present, you felt two hands play with your hair with more intent.

"Fuck-you sure know how to suck a dick, don't you?" He tucked some behind your ear, making you look up at him "Who taught you that?"

"You-da-daddy." Jumbled delivery thanks to the cock in your mouth.

"Sorry couldn't hear you."

"da-daddy" You tried, but sadly coming out more like 'dabby' thanks to the 5 inch obstruction in your throat.

The palms by your ears tighten, "good" It was almost like an extended sigh, "You gonna take it? Tap me if it's too much, yah?" Serious and caring, you nod.

"Yes" You respond to the eyebrow raise, "Yes daddy."

"Good little thing, aren't you?" Another tuck of your hair, and he pulled your head back in opposition to his hips going forward. He was using you clearlessly, not yet pushing you down as deep as he could, but rather just enjoying your lightness.

The room enters a soundtrack of hisses and hums, some slurps and some groans.

"I told you to get yourself off." It wasn't rude but you felt like you were being told off. Your heart pinged in your chest.

It was annoying how good it felt. Yes your knees stung and the carpet has turned into staples but who cared. The hands behind your ears making you deep throat him were heaven, the foot under your clit was heaven, Eddies musky smell was heaven.

Hums and hisses turned into the sound of fabric rubbing and small 'fuck's and 'shit's. And at this rate the streams of dribble coming off your chin and too the floor was definitely anything but disgusting.

Looking up at him and seeing him looking down, heaven too. "Gonna cum in your mouth." You really couldn't help the whorish whine. "Don't swallow it."

Something about that single demand got you were you needed it too. The swelling between your legs seemed to his its peak, the sheen of sweat tripped and your body felt like it was burning. Finger burring into his thighs, tummy tensed: you came over his foot, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

Eddie using this as the perfect moment to use you. Seeing a moment where you'd given him your everything, he gripped you harder and thrusted deeply into your throat.

Still in your post orgasm haze, the 2 boney hands drag you up by your arm pits, a leg helps keep you stood. "Open." You couldn't even see him at the moment, but you knew behind the black was a man staring at you with all his love.

So you did as he told. Mouth open, cum threatening to spill, "Good, swallow." There was a hand to your throat, and them butterflies danced again. And then there was a light press to your lips that helps bring your eyes back open.

Neither of you could help getting lost a bit in the other - this was a big step, a big new, a good thing too! Eddie broke your moment off and tucked you into his chest, coddling you.

"I love you"

"I-love- you too"

He laughed at your breathiness. "Can we have an actual conversation about this now"

"Gimme a minute- I think my brains all mush."

He laughed again and gave a kiss to your hair.

#help I wrote this all out and it didnt save and I could look at this point for like 2 weeks after.#but she is done!!#I hope ive done your ask well #this was fun!!!!#relocated heads ask #Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluf #Eddie Munson soft #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction #joesph Quinn smut #Eddie Munson ask #joesph quinn #st4 #Eddie Munson headcanons #joesph Quinn fluff #joesph Quinn fanfiction

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yelenasdog · 1 year

Text

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader)

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water.

xx, hj

1K notes · View notes

neoflect · 3 days

Text

sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing. i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

#⚰️#jjba tag for blacklisting purposes but i dont want this in the main tag

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wangxianficrecs · 4 months

Text

Rewind 2023 - Part IV

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

It's time for the last post of our Rewind 2023. There are still a few stories left that were published this year that deserve a shout-out and I hope you will shower them with love as well. I'll also make sure to make a Masterpost for all Rewind 2023 posts, so that it's more convenient to find them.

Part I

Part II

Part III

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watch your anger

by loosingletters (@loosingmoreletters)

T, 1k, Cangse Sanren | Kay's Rec

Summary: Watch your anger, her master used to say, never reprimanding Cangse Sanren for her temper tantrums, mainly reminding her of what she stood to lose if she gave in. Cangse Sanren survives. Wei Changze does not.

~*~

Day 1: Dad!Xian

by UseMyMuse (@museywrites)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of Xiantober 2023

Summary: Wei Ying is a tired single parent, but a good cup of coffee and a handsome, flirty stranger leads to a happy future

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Day 4: Ghost!Xian

by UseMyMuse (@museywrites)

T, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of Xiantober 2023

Summary: Wei Ying died at the age of 10, but miraculously the little boy Lan Wangji from down the street was able to see him. They become an unlikely pair and form an unbreakable friendship. Things seem fine until a hostile presence shakes Wei Ying to his ghostly core.

~*~

waiting for us

by sunflowersfield

T, 3k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying is in the middle of cooking dinner when Lan Zhan walks into the apartment on Friday night. As soon as the door opens, Wei Ying drops his knife onto the counter with a clatter, abandoning his recipe so that he can throw his arms around Lan Zhan and pull him close. “You’re here!” he exclaims, grinning when he feels Lan Zhan’s arms curl around his waist. “I am here,” Lan Zhan replies in his steady, calming voice, and Wei Ying’s smile grows wider. Or: Wei Ying and Lan Zhan attend different colleges, but they spend every weekend together.

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Snapping The Banjo

by Anonymous

M, 8k, Wangxian & Xuanli | Kay's Rec

Summary: “A-Jie…” Jiang Cheng pushes. “I broke my husband’s penis during sex.” One quick in-out breath as Yanli raises her chin high, pivots sharply on her heel and marches back off towards the building. Wei Ying opens his mouth. Jiang Cheng slowly raises a hand to silence him, expression on his face as if he had been slapped with a wet fish. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan's date night has gone wrong. Then, Jiang Yanli calls to ask her brothers for a ride to the hospital. Jiang Yanli's date night has gone very wrong.

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Just a Little Wound

by meyari

T, 4k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec

Summary: Raising a child is sometimes a challenge, especially when you’re confronted with a little boy who has no idea whatsoever why it’s not appropriate to stab people who are rude.

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a better world

by ilip13 (@ilip13)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: It’s been a year, today. A year of wearing a borrowed body, and all of a sudden, Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel like getting up and getting on with his day. * Some days are not great and that's okay.

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At the end of all things

by Entityx

M, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Mini Remix for Tired Adults™

Summary: Lan Wangji is aware that he is not the only one who is left haunted by constant bloodshed. Everyone has changed over the course of the Sunshot Campaign. However the one who underwent the most drastic change was undeniable. It's subtle- he's still friendly and boisterous with members of his sect. But he is not truly open anymore. Gone is the optimistic boy who radiated sincerity with every word. Instead he is replaced with a hollow imitation, with a smile cracked at the edges, and a laugh that is too hollow to fool anyone.

~*~

What Lies Beneath These Hallowed Woods

by meekome (@meekkome)

M, WIP, 19k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The shadows are alive. Writhing and twisting around him, creeping over him, between his fingers, around his throat, curious and hungry. The dirt beneath is black like dried blood, which makes the shards and fragments of bones half-buried around him easy to see, white and glimmering unnaturally bright in the gloom. Then something looks at him, from behind the shadows, and Wei Wuxian flinches at the weight of its attention. “Who are you?” Wei Wuxian says, voice echoing strangely as the silence stretches and the resentment nips at his skin, held back by this thing he cannot see. You do not have a name for what I am, it finally says. Wei Wuxian sucks in a slow breath. “What are you, then?” The trees bend and snap in a sudden breeze and the ghosts around him spin and whine, and Wei Wuxian is horrified to realize it is laughing. Shall I let you see, little cultivator? Doing so has driven more humans mad than the number of bones that sleep beneath your feet. But Wei Wuxian has never been good at ignoring knowledge, no matter the consequences, and he does not look away.

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an inch away from more (than just friends)

by occultings (microcomets) (@microcomets)

E, 15k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of WLW Wangxian Week 2023

Summary: “What do you think about,” Wei Ying said aloud, before she could stop herself, before she could even think twice about the repercussions. “When you.” She finally found Lan Zhan’s eyes, molten in the low light, and swallowed in a tiny, audible gulp. “You know.” On Wei Ying, Lan Zhan’s gaze didn’t waver even a fraction. “Giving head,” she said. Wei Ying was certain she’d misheard. “Getting head?” “No,” said Lan Zhan. — After a surprise party gone awry, Wei Ying surprises herself.

~*~

💙 The loudest silence

by barisan (@barisan-no)

T, 15k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Mini Remix for Tired Adults™

Summary: In almost two decades of peace and with a whole generation who has not known differently, it is hard for those who sit above such dangers to fear a banal death. In a lifetime of not knowing what it means to be truly and utterly alone in such a world, it is hard to understand it is often a sentence. Or, a remix of our beloved post-cql WWX whump

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The lavender handkerchief

by barisan (@barisan-no)

Not rated, 1k, Lan Qiren & Wei Wuxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Wuxian’s time on the streets left a deeper wound on his mind. Lan Qiren finds him having a panic attack after being triggered during his punishment.

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Song of the River Rain

by MajiLovePrincess

E, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Reverse Big Bang: 2023

Summary: “Jiaoren,” the man breathes, his voice soft and his golden eyes wide. Those strange eyes dart over Wei Wuxian’s sharp ears and nails before lingering on the bloody red of his tail. “Human,” Wei Wuxian sneers. “You should have fled when you had the chance.” ... When he wakes from his winter sleep, Wei Wuxian attempts to drive a farmer from his territory. He falls in love, instead. Lan Zhan's mysterious past does not do them the courtesy of staying buried.

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Fit for Purpose

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

E, 18k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Wuxian is given clean clothes, and as much food as he wants, and a blanket. He still doesn’t know what a beta is. But he knows he is one, now. And he knows that that’s the reason he has these wonderful things. When Wei Wuxian was a little boy, Jiang Fengmian brought him home to Lotus Pier; when Yu Ziyuan learned the boy was a beta, she allowed him to stay. 30 years later, a resurrected Wei Wuxian hangs around Cloud Recesses and waits to wear out his welcome.

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💙 all is bright

by sunflowersfield

T, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying has slept in many different places. He has curled up on a park bench or a tiny cot in a room full of strangers. But somehow, he has never shared a bed with someone he cares about. He is realizing, now, as the sound machine fills his room with the pitter-patter of gentle rain, that he cares about Lan Zhan. Or: Wei Ying moves into his first apartment. His new neighbor helps him turn it into a home.

~*~

Your Shelter

by cosmicmilktea

T, WIP, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Mini Remix for Tired Adults™

Summary: “There is no need for sorry,” Lan-gege had told him, what seemed like such a long time ago, “Robes can be cleaned.” But a soiled robe in Lotus Pier means lashes on his back and a night of kneeling in the ancestral hall, even if Jiang Cheng and all the other disciples also came back with mud and reeds painting their robes. A soiled robe means hearing baba and mama's names spoken in malice and ridicule. It means a gentle chiding from shijie as she pats his head and offers him a bowl of warm soup, which only made him miss the warmth of Xian-gege's safe embrace. His back hurts, and his knees ache from kneeling so long. Beneath his robes, Lan-gege's ribbon presses close to his heart, and it reminds him how he had felt so safe with the two men. How baba and mama had also made him feel safe even without the shelter of gilded walls and roofs. He longs to be that safe again, the longing building and building in the too-small confines of his chest until Wei Ying can not hold it in any longer. He runs.

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We Meet at the Thousandth Step

by Admiranda (@ladypfenix), Rynne (@rynne)

T, WIP, 142k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: As they both go wherever the chaos might be, Lan Wangji and rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian, eldest child of the famous Cangse-sanren, find their paths converging. Soon they'll discover in each other the perfect partner for night hunting...and beyond.

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12 Hours In Hell and Paradise (Or: Lan Zhan’s Distinguished Guide to Seasonal Depression)

by demonicsalad (@santonali)

T, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying (1:01PM): brb putting lobotomy on my 2024 goals list Lan Zhan (1:02PM): Wei Ying. Wei Ying (1:02PM): [screenshot attached] Wei Ying (1:03PM): did i fucking stutter Or: of tears, tea, rotting, and long-overdue realizations

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pale shadows of forgotten names

by Chrononautical (@chrononautintraining)

T, 56k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: To protect the Wen, Wei Wuxian throws himself on the mercy of the Lan Sect. To protect Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji marries him. To protect them all, Lan Xichen orders the Yiling Laozu's seclusion in the Jingshi. But the Jingshi had another occupant in the past. One who lingers on, furious to think that history might repeat.

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Cuties and Questions

by WiseDawn13 (@wisedawn13)

T, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Suibian?” a deep voice says suddenly, catching his attention. Wei Ying opens his eyes to look at who approached and promptly finds himself without breath at the sight of the man in front of him. After all these years he shouldn’t recognize him so easily, but Wei Ying would never be able to forget those eyes. “Oh!” Wen Ning squeaks. “You are familiar with Suibian?” Wei Ying watches as Lan Zhan nods to Wen Ning. “I am. Are you the creator of Yiling Cuties?” “Ah? Oh, no. No, that would be him,” Wen Ning replies, somewhat flustered. It takes far too long for Wei Ying to realize that Wen Ning just diverted Lan Zhan’s attention to him because suddenly those golden brown eyes are staring directly into his soul and it hurts more than he would have expected. OR Wei Ying and Lan Zhan lost touch when Wei Ying's family moved away when they were kids. Wei Ying moves back to his hometown years later, meeting the man he once knew as his best friend.

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💙 A New Dynasty

by One_eyed_God (@oneeyedoctogod)

T, Series, WIP, 76k, Background Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Wuxian is well-known as a trouble-maker, someone who likes jokes and chaos. He promptly proves this by disappearing without a trace from the Cloud Recesses, in the middle of the Lectures. But when war is on the horizon and tensions boil over, can his actions really be summarized as a simple prank? Or, the unbelievable story of Wei Wuxian, time traveller, told from everyone's point of view but his.

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Christmas Eve at Number 16

by liulans (@liulans)

T, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji considers that for a moment, squaring Wei Wuxian up. And then he says, “You are asking– if I would like to spend Christmas with you?” “It doesn't have to be, like, Christmassy,” he reminds him. “We can just hang out. Maybe you can come over tomorrow evening, and I'll have you back in your apartment before midnight. And then on Christmas day, I'll bring you an apple for luck, and that can be that.” “Okay.” Lan Wangji says, after a moment of brow-furrowing contemplation. “...Okay?” “I will see you tomorrow. I will– spend Christmas with you.” --- [Prompt: Character A can’t travel to see their family on Christmas, so they invite their grumpy loner neighbour Character B.]

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Cleaning & Courtship

by Winxhelina (@winxhelina)

T, 13k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: It all started with some offhand comment Jin Zixun had made about Wei Wuxian's father having been a servant. About how he should stick to that and not aim for places not meant for him. Wei Wuxian had been at a party at the time with Nie Huaisang and unlikely as it had been, Lan Wangji had been there too. Wei Wuxian had complained about money and that had seemingly inspired the comment from a man, who, Wei Wuxian was sure, had never worked a day in his life. Lan Wangji had stared at Jin Zixun so hard Wei Wuxian thought he might actually drop dead. Somehow, two months later, Wei Wuxian actually finds himself cleaning rich people’s houses. There are very few cultivators wiling to clean houses for other cultivators, but there is demand for it. You can't hire a regular maid to dust and clean your ancient artefacts, even just sword maintenance is a whole area of expertise that civilians aren't qualified to do. In which Wei Wuxian accidentally ends up cleaning his long-time friend's house and Lan Zhan's room harbours a secret.

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#wangxian fic rec #wangxianficrecs #rewind 2023 #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #fandom event #long post #Kay's Rec #Kay's Favorite #The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi

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