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all-purpose-dish-soap · 6 months ago

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34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

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zyogod · 6 months ago

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The Part-timer

Tags: rough sex, public sex , female idol x you, other universe story , story building

Starring: Newjeans Pham Hanni

3,631 words

Part-time barista in the morning, Major music student. Pham Hanni has a full life and doesn't care about it

Hanni would smile politely as she gets yelled at and scolded by her boss in the cafe. That's fine, she has a punching bag at home where she can take out her stress. The only reason she can't seem to quit this job is because it's the only place where she can see and talk to you.

"Gonna order your usual?" She asked, gazing at you with her almond eyes.

"My usual order? You means your pretty smile?" I try to flirt with her

"You wish" she chuckled as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms as she gave that little smile of hers. She was wearing a simple gray blouse, tucked into her black jeans. Although it was too hot to be wearing anything thick, her usual uniform of work consisted mostly of layers of clothing that didn't really show off her figure.

"Although i never see you in casual revealing clothes hanni, hopefully i can see what underneath that blouse" Then i giggle to make it not too obvious

Her eyes narrowed as she saw your giggling reaction, she knows what you really want to see. Hanni leaned forward as she reached her bottom part of her blouse, and lift off her blouse, revealing her small waist and bit of her toned abs under that blouse like you imagined she would

"You happy with what you see, handsome?" She asked, her hands rested on her hips.

"Maybe if you lift that blouse little further i would really appreciate that" I said to her while looking around to make sure only both of us inside the cafe.

Hanni raised her eyebrows as she smirked.

"That desperate, huh?" She chuckled and she slowly lifted her gray blouse, letting you have a good look at her curves B cups sized pair of boobs.

I just stared at it mesmerized "quite small but looks nice and pliable" I said with a little laugh

Hanni lowered her gray shirt and stretched her right hand towards me and tried to hit me even though she missed "Shibal! It's good that I showed you, you're insulting my cute breasts" she yelled at me.

I stepped back and said, "calm down, don't get mad, I was just joking." Hanni pouted her mouth and glared at me, like I had gone too far in teasing her, "okay okay, I'll make it up to you" I said to comfort her.

Hanni took a deep breath as you stepped back, the blush on her cheeks grew even more red, she's clearly a little embarrassed by your teasing

"You better make it up to me" she said in a half-joking way. After all, she did kind of like the way you were looking at her.

I said all my orders to hanni and went to the outdoor area of the cafe so that I could enjoy my order later while smoking.

Hanni nodded as you placed your order and went outside to smoke. She got to work making your order, pouring the coffee into the cup and adding the cream and sugar just the way you like it. She also put a small slice of cake on the saucer to accompany your coffee.

A few minutes later, Hanni came outside to deliver your order, setting it down in front of you with a smile.

"So can i order you to be with me too, if that's can be on the bills?" smiling looking at her

Hanni's cheeks flushed as she heard your pick-up line, she wasn't expecting that. She couldn't help but chuckle as she raised her eyebrows, pretending to think.

"Hm.. I don't know.. Do you have enough money to pay for me?" she asked playfully, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a teasing smile

looking at her with little smirk

"How much Pham hanni service cost just only for having chit chat for loyal customer like me?"

Hanni pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger.

"Well, as a special offer for my most loyal customer, I think a small donation of 20 dollars will suffice for some chit chat." She said with a mischievous smile, holding her hand out.

"How if i wanted more? There's any extra charge?" trying to following her games

"Oh, you're a very greedy customer, I see" she chuckled. She pretended to think again and then spoke up with a suggestive smile.

"I suppose if you want a little extra, I could indulge you. How much more are you willing to pay?"

In truth, Hanni actually doesn't plan on taking any money from you. She just wants to play along and see where this could go.

"Depends on how much i can get from those small Vietnamese petite body" I flirted with her more boldly.

As you spoke, Hanni's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, her heart racing from your words. She couldn't believe how boldly you're flirting with her.

"You're quite daring, aren't you?" She asked with a smirk, trying to retain her confident demeanor.

"But I'm afraid I'm not for sale. But if you come back tomorrow, perhaps I'll give you something special for free" she teased as she turned on her heels and walked back inside with a little wiggle in her step

scoffing after hearing her offers

"Tomorrow? That's too long, how about after your shift ended?"

Hanni giggled at your impatience, she's finding this little game quite amusing.

"Now you want to get special service outside of my shift? I'm not sure if you can afford that, handsome" she teased, leaning her back on the counter with her arms crossed, giving you a smirk.

"Perhaps there's another way you can convince me?".

Pointing out the huge bulge in my pants to her "pretty good deal? Or do you still want another bonus?"

Hanni’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of your bulge, feeling her cheeks burn even more red as she tried not to look down again.

"You're not playing fair, you know that?" She said in a half-jesting, half-serious tone as she bit her lip, her heart racing.

"I can't just do what you tell me to, I'm at work."

"How much your payment in this cafe for a day?" I ask her, this is maybe too much but it will be never hurt anyone to try it.

Hanni sighed as she knew she wouldn't be able to hide her wage from you.

"It's about 20 dollars daily" she said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed as she knew that’s not a high wage

"And before you say anything, no, I can't give you special services outside of my work hours for 20 dollars a day" she added with a small huff.

she's really played well to be hard to get out of sudden "how about 200 dollars for a night?"

Hanni's breath hitched at the number you said, 200 dollars is a lot more than what she makes for a days work at the cafe.

"200? That is a huge amount" she said softly, contemplating. She couldn’t deny that she’s pretty low on money, not knowing if she’ll be able to pay for her rent by next month…

"You know maybe that's will be an easy money for university students like you" I smile mischievously.

Hanni's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and uncertainty at your offer. She knew that she needed the extra money, but she was conflicted about accepting this offer.

"I…I don't know about this, you can't just offer me such a high amount in exchange for-" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she thought about what implications that would carry.

Before she's done with her words i cut her down "im paying for your dinner latter" i can't let her leaving the bait.

Hanni's eyes widened again as you cut her mid-sentence, she wasn't expecting you to counter her worries like that. She was torn between her morals and the temptation of the money you're offering.

"So wait, are you really asking me to-" she began to ask, her heart pounding in her chest.

She thought about it a little more, weighing her options. She knew that this money could be an solution to her financial troubles and pay her college tuition.

"Well, you're treating me to dinner as well? Where are we eating? Something fancy, I hope." She finally said, a small mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Which restaurant that college student favorite just say it" actually i don't know if she trying to push her luck or not, but who cares? It's good bargaining for me after all.

"Hoho, are you spoiling me now?" She chuckled as she put a finger on her chin, pretending to think about her favorite restaurant.

"Well, actually there's this nice Japanese restaurant not too far from here. They have some great sashimi and sushi. But it's a bit pricey. Is that okay with you?".

"That's fine I'll take you there as long i get what i want and you doesn't disappointed me with your service, at least i can guarantee the 200 dollars" i said to her

Hanni's heart was racing as she listened to your words. She couldn't believe that she was going along with this, but she knew that the money was something she desperately needed.

"Alright, you have a deal. But remember, I expect you to treat me well too, handsome. Can't have my night ruined by a bad date" she said, trying to maintain her cheeky attitude.

Waving my hand to her "don't worry".

Hanni nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. She couldn't believe that she was going to do this, but the thought of a nice dinner and some extra money was enough for her to look past any doubts.

"Okay, it's a date. But for now, let me finish my shift, okay? I'll meet you at the restaurant later" she said with a smile.

Im just nodding to her words.

Hanni returned to work, her mind still racing with thoughts of what the night might hold. She watched the clock closely, every passing minute feeling like an hour, just waiting for her shift to end.

"One more hour..." she whispered to herself as she tended to the customers, her heart beating a little faster with anticipation for the evening to come.

Without anyone realize one hour has been passed and i was waiting her behind the cafe in the small alley right after the cafe hanni work on.

Hanni finally emerges from the cafe, her shirt slightly disheveled from the long shift. She takes a moment to catch her breath, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement for her date with you. As she looked around, she spotted you waiting in the alley and approached you with a soft smile.

"Hey" she said quietly, her cheeks flushing a tiny bit.

Found her in my sight "yo, you looks little bit tired but kinda hot after works, with little sweat on you" teasing her since she's looking pretty even after few hours shift.

Hanni's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at your comment and she chuckled softly, trying to maintain her cool demeanor.

"So you think I look hot, even after a sweaty shift at work? You really are something, aren't you?" she said coyly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She can't seem to hide her smile every time you tease her.

Suddenly I grabbed her left wrist and pulled her towards me and kissed her forehead

"Of course, has anyone ever made fun of a sweet girl like you?" I silently wrapped my arms around her waist while squeezing her small, supple butt.

Hanni gasped in surprise as you pulled her towards you, her heart racing at the sudden display of affection. She was caught off guard, but she eagerly leaned into the kiss on her forehead

"N-no one has ever treated me like this before" she managed to say, her cheeks flushed

Her breath hitched as you squeezed her butt, feeling her legs tremble a little from the intimate touch.

Focusing on her eyes.

"So, what do men usually treat you like? Like an adorable little slut? If that's the case, isn't it a little kinky? " I teased her.

Hanni cheeks burned as she heard your teasing comment, but there was a hint of truth to it. She knew she often attracted the attention of men who saw her as a small, innocent girl.

"Well, sometimes they do treat me like that" she responded softly, feeling her heart flutter as you looked into her eyes.

"I...I guess I kind of like it a little" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

After hearing her like that , i pushed her against the nearest wall and kissed her lustfully on the lips while my hands groped all over her body.

Hanni's breath hitched as you pushed her against the wall, her body responding immediately to your touch. Her lips met yours in a hungry kiss, her fingers running through your hair as she melted into your embrace.

She moaned softly as your hands roamed over her body, feeling their touch sending shivers down her spine. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the moment.

After a few moments, you finally broke the kiss, both of you panting with desire. Her cheeks flushed and her heart racing, she looked up at you with a small smile.

"That was... incredible" she confessed as she caught her breath, leaning her head against your chest.

"This is just the beginning" I told her as I unbuttoned her shirt as quickly as possible and threw it somewhere, followed by taking off her bra.

Once her upper body was exposed, I immediately directed my lips to her chest and savored her breasts that didn't look too big but looked very cute and soft.

Hanni gasped as you quickly undid her shirt and removed her bra, feeling a rush of excitement and a hint of embarrassment as her upper body was exposed out in the open public space for the first time "oh my god we're in public, let's get a room first" she said with worrying tone.

Releases my lips from her breast for a few moments "don't worry no one will find us in this small alley" I reassure her.

Hanni's worries subsided as you reassured her, her body already craving your touch. She whispered, her voice barely audible as she gave in to the moment.

"Okay, just be careful, please" she moaned softly as you continue. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she arched her back, her breathing growing heavier with your touch.

After enjoying her supple breasts, I turned Hanni's body to face the wall and pulled down her jeans and panties, while spanking her ass.

"Time for my main course" I said in a slurty voice.

Hanni squealed in surprise as I slapped her soft little ass while looking at me over her shoulder "you want to do it here? It's a public place" she started to worry.

"Don't worry, I'll do it quickly" I told her.

Hanni couldn't help but be a bit overwhelmed by everything. Her mind was still trying to process the fact that she was letting you to fuck her glistening cunt in public.

Holding her hips from behind, I began to thrust my cock into her wet hole as hard as I could until I reached the end of her womb.

Hanni was surprised by my action of directly inserting my dick into her fuck hole suddenly without giving her time to adjust her pussy walls to the size of my dick, which made her feel split in two and made her feel pain and pleasure at the same time.

"Arkhh ahh ah oppa you're too rough, you'll tear my pussy if you keep fucking me like this" Hanni whines.

I keep pounding her roughly and moving my hands to her pair of tits too squeeze it hard as a handle for me to hold her in place

"I'm just make sure to make my money worth Hanni, you will get used to it soon" Keeping my pace to fuck her like a slut and keep squeezing her boobs hard with pulling her nipples.

The pain she feels is unbearable, Hanni starts to rolled her eyes because of the pain but gets pleasure from the rough sex she is experiencing, "Oppa you are going to break me, please be more gentle aaarkhhhh!!!" Unfortunately her body's reaction doesn't match her words, Hanni reaches her first orgasm as you fuck her like a whore.

When I felt Hanni having her first orgasm, I immediately pulled my cock out of her pussy so that she could squirt her cum in relief.

A few seconds had passed, Hanni's body was getting limp after squirting but I held her body while my hands still squeezed her breasts firmly and reinserted my cock into her pussy hole.

"I'm not done yet, you better not lose your spirit yet Hanni" I went back to fucking her roughly and lustfully like i was possessed.

Hanni was getting tired and losing her mind with all the treatment she was receiving from me.

She had begun to surrender to whatever was happening even though she was being fucked out in the open like a cheap whore.

All that was left were indistinct sighs and moans as she felt pleasure or pain.

After thirty minutes had passed, I started to feel close to reaching my orgasm

"Hanni, I'm going to cum where you want me to cum?" I said to her while adjusting the tempo of my movements in fucking her.

Hanni with eyes that were only half open and panting replied "Anywhere, you can cum inside me" Hanni said while stammering.

Hearing her words, I immediately pushed my cock as deep as I could against the tip of her womb and erupted my orgasm, filling her womb with my hot cum until her womb was full.

On the other hand Hanni screamed in pleasure, "Oppa!!! It's so full, take your cock out immediately! !!" She pleaded with her back arched backwards trying to release her pussy from my cock and relax herself.

After my cock was out of her pussy, Hanni pressed against the wall in front of her and bent limply but her body shook violently.

It turned out that she had a second orgasm and squirted very hard, releasing my sperm along with her love juices.

I as a man watching from behind was just amazed and satisfied to see the image of Hanni's pussy that looked melted while decorated with my sperm flowing out of her and the rest of her love juices.

I spanked her ass which was still shaking slightly

"Isn't this a nice sex experience, Hanni?" She seemed to be still standing on her knees with heavy breathing and did not respond to my words.

Hanni scoffed "good for you but not for me, this will be the first and last time I sell my own pussy for 200 dollars," she said as she slowly took back her jeans and panties.

Before she could put on her jeans and panties, I stepped on them to prevent her from putting them back on, "Why is that? Isn't that worth it? You even orgasmed twice because of this big cock of mine, didn't you?" I asked her in a somewhat annoyed tone.

Hanni glared at me "You're right, I cum twice because of that big dick of yours, but I was also in pain, so the pleasure I got wasn't worth the pain I felt, not to mention you fucked me like a cheap whore in this little alley," Hanni said annoyed.

I laughed at that "Come on it's no big deal, next time I'll do it gently, let me make it up to you, as promised, let's go to the restaurant you want" I took my foot off her jeans and panties and let Hanni put her clothes back on.

After Hanni finished putting her clothes back on, she stood in front of me while opening her palms "Give me my 200 dollars," Hanni said with a flat tone and annoyed face.

To avoid her irritation, I immediately gave her the money.

Hanni took the money I gave her and put it in the pocket of her jeans, then she looked into my eyes as one hand stroked the cock of mine that already warped inside my jeans, feeling the bulge in them.

"You enjoying the service right?" She suddenly spoke to me.

I nodded "Of course Hanni you are a very delicious little slut" I told her.

In a move I never expected, Hanni directed her hand that had been stroking the bulge in my jeans towards my balls and squeezed it hard, "Feels so good huh? How about this one, asshole, still feels good? Can you feel this little slut squeezing your balls?" Hanni yelled at me.

Feeling my balls being squeezed with full force by her made me reflexively squat down and hold her hand to reduce the force of the squeeze "Hanni please d-oo-on't" I said with a stutter while enduring the pain of my balls.

Hanni released her grip on my balls and slapped my face with all her might, "You asshole! Don't show your face in front of me again!" Then she left me to go.

And me on the other hand just stood frozen in place and tried to process everything that happened in this small alley.

Author note

Hopefully you guys can enjoy this first while waiting The lecture :)

#kpopsmut #hanni smut #newjeans smut

1K notes · View notes

osarina · 2 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress.

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say.

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him.

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this.

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay.

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look.

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what.

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him.

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval.

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori.

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him.

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild.

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least.

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe.

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit.

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator.

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again.

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin.

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly.

Love. Love. Love.

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call.

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you.

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks.

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable.

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately.

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame.

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat.

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again.

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?”

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it.

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable.

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do.

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is.

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans.

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks.

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved.

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut

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bloddysnow · 5 months ago

Text

Hickeys nsfw minors dni

Zayne woke up feeling heavy in his head. The eyelids seem leaded, and every breath is difficult. Sunlight breaks through the curtains, cutting the semi-darkness of the room with sharp rays and causing a painful burning sensation in the eyes. He slowly rises from the pillow, feeling his head pulsating, as if his whiskey is squeezed with a vice. The mouth is dry, like in the desert.

He tries to remember what happened the day before, how bottle after bottle was empty, and how cheerful hops gradually turned into a state of unconsciousness.

He sat on the edge of the bed and saw a glass of water and a hangover pill on the bedside table near the bed. A weak smile breaks through the grimace of pain. He slowly stretches out his hand to the glass, then takes the pill, looking at it for a few seconds before putting it on his tongue and washing it down with water. Water seems to be a divine nectar, gradually moisturising the dry throat. Mentally, he thanks you for your concern. Remembering your affectionate voice and soft look, he gets a little better.

Zayne slowly get out of bed, feeling a slight weight in his body. There is a cold floor under his feet when he heads to the bathroom with his bare feet. Opening the door, he turns on the light, which blinds him for a moment. Something unimaginable is reflected in the mirror in front of him.

He sees in the mirror his body covered with many red and purple hickeys that looked like small semicircles or arcs from tooth marks. On his neck he can see traces left by passionate kisses, which gradually pass to the chest, where larger traces become more noticeable. His nipples were slightly swollen and very sensitive to touch.

His shoulders and arms are also covered with these marks. His stomach is decorated with smaller bites. The gaze descends lower, and on his legs, especially on the inside of his hips, the traces become larger, and very noticeable leaving the feeling that his whole body was the object of unrestrained passion and as if someone enjoyed every centimetre of his skin.

He slowly touches them on his neck, memories have flooded: with each new bite, his breathing becomes more intermittent, his heart is pounding furiously. He tilts his head back, opening up more space for you on his neck. His hands reach out to you, his fingers greedily squeeze your body, as if he is afraid of losing this moment of passion. His head leans back, his eyes are tightly closed, his lips are slightly open, and sounds full of desire and devotion come out of his throat.

His fingers move towards his swollen lips: he raises your hand to face, crashing into your palm and leaning against your body. He opens his mouth, releasing his tongue and begins to lick your fingers, suck two of them when he looks straight into your eyes, hitting you sweetly with his eyelashes. Your smell filled his nose, darkening his feelings.

He gently touches his nipples and hisses with sensitivity: your lips touched his nipples, you gently ran your tongue over one of them, feeling how he strained under your touch. His nipple became hard, and you started playing with him with the tip of your tongue, driving in circles, slightly teasing. You sometimes bit his nipple a little, and then caressed with tongue again, feeling his breathing become more and more intermittent. His body reacted: his muscles strained, his hands sometimes clenched involuntarily.

He ran his fingers on the tracks on his hips: he spreads his legs for you and you move to stand between them, your hands feel his hips, kneeling down so that you can kiss his soft hips. His back bends and his fingers and nails dig into the sheets while you bite and suck as much as possible.

Zayne remembers how he repeated your name as a prayer over and over again and how he cried, muttering the same words: "I want to be yours. Please. I'll do anything. Breed me. Get me pregnant. I beg you. I'll be a good mom. I promise. Make me yours."

Shame and embarrassment roll on him with a wave, like icy water, giving the whole body. He lowers his head, avoiding his own look at the mirror. Inside, he is torn apart by a feeling of awkwardness, as if he had opened his soul and flaunted the most intimate and darkest corners. Zayne can't believe that he allowed himself to express those desires that he always concealed even from himself. His cheeks are filled with a thick blush, the heat rises to his ears.

But now he feels like he's yours, as if you're claiming that the marks on his body can prove it.

#dom reader #love and deepspace #sub character #sub love and deepspace #x reader #love and deepspace zayne #sub zayne #zayne x reader

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hier--soir · 2 years ago

Text

whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fwb joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #cat's outta the bag #don't cry over spilt milk #whole new can of worms

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 11 months ago

Note

Hi zeta! So I received a notification today that I was ovulating and had a thought. Husband/Ceo!Cheol checking your phone as you received and notification that you were ovulating. Like my man would go crazy and be at it like the fucking rabbits.

(sorry why is this so long)

tw: dom!seungcheol, sub!reader (fem), marriage!au, unpotected sex (pls stay safe), breeding kink, mentions of kids and pregnancy, praise, use of petnames, daddy and mommy kink (they want to be actual parents), mating press, spanking, oral (f rec), cockwarming - minors dni.

@gyuwoncheol tagging her bcs she helped me to her own demise

"Babe?"

"Yes darling?"

"You have a new notification!" Seungcheol yells from the other end of the living room.

"I'll check it later, thanks!" You yell back, trying to make yourself heard through the noise of the kitchen mixer.

Seungcheol is a man who values your privacy and would never attempt the petty snooping around on your phone.

But how could he miss the bright notification of your cycle tracking app saying that you're ovulating?

He turns his head to your direction and looks at the shape of your body standing in front of the counter and his mind races at the thought of you bearing his kids and having them run around your legs in the future.

And it makes him want to fuck you until he has made sure you're pregnant.

He gets up from the couch and walks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You sure love back hugs, don't you?" You let out a small laugh.

"How can I not when I have such a pretty wife?" He hums.

"Oh, I see how it is." You turn off the mixer and turn around to face him. "Come on, out with it, big guy."

"What? Can't I just compliment my wife because I feel like it?" He pouts his lips.

"Seungcheol, you never compliment me without any reason."

"I was just thinking...."

"I knew it."

"I haven't even said anything yet!" He complains.

"Oh my God, just say it!"

"I was thinking how pretty you'd look with a belly full of our kids."

Your eyes widen with shock at your husband's blunt words. It's true that you've discussed the possibility of widening your family with Seungcheol and you know he would be the most silly and doting dad ever. But the way he looks at you and his hands tighten on your body makes you feel a tad bit jittery (in a very good way).

"Did you just think of that, or...?"

"Your tracking app said you're ovulating and I can't get it out of my damn head." Seungcheol groans.

"You checked my phone?!"

"I didn't unlock it! It was right beside me and I just saw the pop-up on the screen!"

"And that made you worked up already?" You deadpan.

"God, you have no idea." He drops his head on your shoulder and rolls his hips against you.

"You're incorrigible." You hug him with a light chuckle.

You feel his lips stretching in a grin and he throws you over his shoulder with one swift motion, carrying you to the bedroom. You complain all the way, but he just slaps your ass and puts you down on the mattress, your legs hanging from the edge of the bed.

"I am indeed incorrigible, darling." Seungcheol strips himself down to bare skin and purposefully climbs over you to grab a pillow and place it under your lower back.

"I'll do everything in my power," he hooks his fingers in the hem of your sweats and drags them away from your legs, "to get your pretty pussy," he removes your cotton panties to reveal your cunt, "full of my cum until you physically can't take more inside you."

"C-Cheol-" You watch your husband kneel on the foot of the bed, ready to use his tongue on you.

"Talk to me, darling. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck, I want your kids so bad." You moan and spread your legs, putting your hands under your knees to pull them on your sides.

"That's what I thought too." He smirks and leans down to press a kiss on your clit, followed by full-bodied swipes of his wet muscle from your puffy bud of nerves to your hole, waiting for your pussy to drip just enough to get messy.

"You're so perfect, you know that?" He brings your legs on your chest and puts your ankles on his shoulders, the head of his cock dragging over your pussy. "Perfect wife, with a perfect pussy." He whispers and slides his shaft inside you, stealing your moans with his mouth.

You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his pillowy lips, all while his cock is battering up your cunt. Your leg muscles tense up from being stretched out to their limits, but you don't want to switch up positions.

"Sweet, sweet fucking cunt, all ready to keep my cum safe." Seungcheol groans wildly on your lips, "Want to make you a mommy so bad."

"Fuck, I want you to be a daddy, Cheol, ah!" You throw your head back on the bed, watching your husband plow his hips in you relentlessly, his bottom lip caught between his pearly whites.

"W-Want a pretty little girl, w-with your eyes and lips, wanna treat her like a princess."

"And a rowdy little b-boy, so you c-can play g-games with him." You stammer over your words, but you get the message across.

"Fuck, I love you so much, darling." Seungcheol moans airily and plants his hands beside your head, rutting in you like a madman, sweat dripping down his body and a few drops landing on your chest.

"Cheol, I'm c-close." You sob.

"Me too, baby. Just a little more, please." He begs you to hold out.

You do as he says and you cum undone underneath him, his thick cock pulsing until he has emptied himself inside your cunt, not daring to pull away from you.

A few seconds of silence pass and none of you has moved yet. Your pussy clenches around his cock ever so slightly and you whimper, your legs falling limp on the bed.

"Even your pussy wants more, babe." Seungcheol chuckles and moves his cock inside you, bringing himself back to full hardness.

"You mean you've got more to give?" You pant.

"For you? Always."

#good luck with that anon 😭#svthub #scoups smut #scoups fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨#tw kids #tw pregnancy

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itsjunear · 3 months ago

Text

Unspoken words

Note: Hey loves! I'm sorry for disappearing again, I was on vacation, and I'm terrible at managing my time. I finished my first semester at university and have started the second one (send help, please 💀), so all the accumulated stress made me want to write. Thank you for taking the time to read this! 💙💙 I'm sorry if it's a mess, but I hope it entertains you a bit! I've discovered that I enjoy writing angst, so I think that's my path.

P.S.: Azriel will always make me sigh, but I admit that Cassian is my favorite bat boy, so I'll include him everywhere.

Anyway, I love you all!💙💙 Every like and reblog is appreciated! Just a reminder that English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake, don't hesitate to tell me!

Words: 1k+ Warnings: None, just angst Summary: The reader saw at the family dinner how Azriel and Elain worked together. It made something inside her stir, and the feelings she had been hiding became painfully unbearable.

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

For the Mother.

It was the only thought that came to mind before I dodged Cassian's blow. My reflexes definitely weren't at their best today, and we both knew it. So, I just rolled my eyes at the smug smile on Cassian's face.

I had slept less than three hours because every time I closed my eyes, the image I so desperately wanted to get out of my mind was the only thing I saw. So, I had tossed and turned in bed until dawn, which is why my body was so exhausted and dodging blows felt like torture. I wasn't even trying to attack him, just to hold my ground. That's how pathetic I was being today.

I didn't even anticipate Cassian's move until I felt his legs sweeping mine out from under me, and my back hit the ground. I gasped as the air left my lungs and let out a groan from the impact.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" I heard his voice ask before his wings spread out above me, shielding my eyes from the direct sunlight.

I sighed, exhausted, and gave up, stretching my arms out and relaxing my muscles. He just crossed his arms and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when are you so bad at fighting?"

I huffed and pulled my limbs in until I was sitting up. "Don't feed your ego too much. I'm just not having a good day."

I felt him scrutinize me with his eyes, narrowing them before he sighed and dropped his body next to mine.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, even his hazel eyes had turned gentler.

I could tell him, I knew I could, just as I knew he would keep quiet. But verbalizing what I felt, how I felt, would make everything more real.

"It's nothing. It's just my head, you know" I lied, downplaying it.

Cassian stayed silent next to me for a few seconds before I felt his hand press my shoulder. Of course, he had read the lie.

I sighed. Maybe I could tell him what I had seen yesterday, the connection between a certain shadow singer and the youngest Archeron sister at dinner, but telling him would mean explaining why it affected me so much.

"It's nothing, Cass. It's just that…" I paused to think a bit. "Have you ever felt cornered? Like you're running away from something you don't want to face… But once everything happens before your eyes, there's nowhere left to run."

I looked at him uncertainly, trying to hide the feeling of desperation and sadness. He came closer to me and put one of his arms around my shoulders, ignoring how sweaty we both were, before giving me a look of understanding and nodding gently.

"It's not a pleasant feeling" he agreed. "But I also know that if there's no place left to run, all you can do is face it, or whatever is haunting you will devour you."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is," was his only response before he shrugged "Being over five hundred years old doesn't make things easier."

"It's just that…" I swallowed thickly and finally decided to show him my vulnerable side. "Yesterday…"

However, before I could utter a word, the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted me, and I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. Cassian reacted by frowning and turned to see who it was. I mimicked his action, and when I saw a pair of wings accompanied by dark tendrils, I tensed a little.

I understood that Az had wanted us to hear him coming. So, I didn't flinch when he stood there studying us for a moment.

"Am I interrupting?"

I gave Cassian a quick, discreet glance, trying to convey that we'd finish the conversation later. He looked at me confused, but I shook my head, and he nodded in agreement without insisting.

He pressed my shoulder again before changing his position, still on the ground, but his attention now directed to his brother.

"So, your ass remembered we had training today and decided to show up, huh, Az?" he let out, instantly changing the mood of the place.

"I had a meeting with Rhys" Azriel replied simply, with one corner of his mouth lifted. "You look defeated."

Cassian's wings twitched, and I had to hold back a smile to speak. "He kicked my ass, actually, and now he's here on the ground pitying me."

Az smiled, and for a moment, I had to remind myself that this was nothing, that I shouldn't get any ideas in my head that would only go one way. He was off-limits, and continuing to think that way made my chest ache, so I forced myself to look away and focus on his shadows, some roaming the space, others coiling around his neck, whispering things in his ear.

"Hard to believe after the beating Rhys gave you yesterday" he mocked.

"That's not true" Cassian made an indignant noise before getting up from the ground and heading to the secluded area where we could rest for a while.

Grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts, I laughed as Az approached, and my joy faded a bit when I noticed he was stretching out his hand to help me up. I looked at him and hesitated, but I didn't want him to misinterpret my hesitation, knowing how his mind would tell him it was because of his scars. So, I took his hand, preferring my pain over his, even though these small gestures were what hurt me the most at the end of the day.

I thanked him without looking at him to soften the blow and prevent him from noticing my expression.

"I'm ready to fight you. Whenever you want" Cassian said as he drank water and tied his hair again with the leather strap Nesta had given him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the competitive flame ignite in Az's face. Then I knew it was time to leave and pray to The Caldroun that neither of them would bleed today.

I walked over to Cassian, with Azriel on my heels, and took some water too, while looking for a towel to dry off. Az guessed what I wanted and handed me one that was next to him.

"Thanks" I repeated again without looking at him.

I said nothing more because I feared the lump that was slowly forming in my throat, but I could feel his gaze scrutinizing me. Nevertheless, I ignored it. I was determined to get rid of all the damn feelings.

As much as it hurt me more than I let on.

"I have to go, Cass. See you later" I said, patting his shoulder.

He nodded, smiling, looking for my gaze. "I'll look for you in the library" he replied, referring to finishing the conversation.

I nodded, and he returned to the training ring. So I turned to Azriel, who was already taking off his shirt, and I had to swallow hard. Seeing him in all his glory was always breathtaking, seeing his bronzed skin, every sculpted muscle, scar, and Illyrian tattoos.

But I would have to learn to forget him. There was no other option.

"See you later, Az" I said, also saying goodbye as I walked past him.

Or rather, trying to. Because he gently took my arm and spread his wings a bit, halting my path and blocking my way.

I had to hold back a shiver and looked at him, full of confusion.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

I could feel his eyes searching for answers in mine, even the cold brush of one of his shadows on the arm he still held. The only thing I could think of was to look away and nod.

"Yeah, why?" I replied in the calmest tone I could muster.

He said nothing, but I could still feel him trying to decipher something. As if he were searching for answers somewhere in me and couldn't find them anywhere.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded without saying anything, trying to bury my feelings deep inside. I was terrified; nothing good would come of letting anything surface. I'd rather spend a thousand years in The Prison than ruin the peace that existed in everyone's lives.

Still, I knew I hadn't convinced him that everything was fine, but I also knew he was kind enough not to push me. So finally, after a moment of doubt, he let me go and lowered his wing to let me pass.

"See you later, Az" I said again, escaping so quickly that he had no time to hold me back again or even say anything.

Once a few steps away, I felt the tension leave my body, and I let the expression of concern take over my face. I tried not to look back, I swear I did, but before going down the stairs, I turned my head a bit, only to find Az's worried gaze.

Maybe I should have bothered to change my expression, but, anyway, it didn't matter. Nothing would change, so I just continued my way down the stairs while a feeling of sadness took over my chest.

Let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list. I wasn’t sure if those who had previously asked still wanted to be included, so just let me know if you still want to be tagged!

#acotar #azriel #i dont know what im doing #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #azriel x reader #sjm #bat boys

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bigification · 7 months ago

Text

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation

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help-itrappedmyself · 7 months ago

Text

Dead On Main Part 11

Masterpost

Danny was woken up a little after seven in the morning by Tim. Not on purpose, but he had gotten into another argument with Dick and Bruce. Tim was driving now, and apparently it was time for a shift change, but they were only about an hour away now, so Tim didn’t want to stop.

“We should probably stop for breakfast anyway.” Danny interjected as soon as he could be sure he wasn’t going to be talking over someone.

“Morning, Danny.”

“How did you sleep Danny?” Bruce asked.

“I slept great!” Danny answered. “But if you have any interest at all in eating, we should do it before we get to my house.”

“Well, that does solve our other problem.”

They argued for a while about where to eat, but eventually they were back in the car for the final stretch. Back in their original positions, Tim is actually doing something on his tablet now, while Dick checks his phone.

Danny decides to check his phone too, it has a few messages, but Danny realizes he doesn’t know the password to this phone that isn’t actually his when he goes to try and read them.

Tim is able to solve that problem for him, unlocking the phone and then handing it back.

Danny sees the texts are from his phone.

Hey so we’ve had a bit of a problem

How do I get you to stop being green?

“Shit.” Danny murmured under his breath. He didn’t notice Tim glancing at him or Dick and Bruce’s shared look.

Are you there?

Hey, never mind we figured it out

This isn’t really my place, but we ran into someone named Vlad earlier and he was acting creepy and strange, are you okay?

If he’s bothering you I promise I can help.

“Creepy vulture-loving vampire.” Danny’s mumbles as he texts back.

What did he do? Are you okay?

I'm fine. Jazz and I handled it.

But you're not really inspiring confidence here.

Do I need to take care of this guy for you?

I'll deal with the fruitloop when I get back

“Danny, can you direct us to your house?” Bruce asks from the driver’s seat.

“Of course.” Danny puts his phone away and leans into the middle seat to look out the window.

They get to the house quickly after getting into town. They parked in front of the house. They all gaped at the questionable architecture, but to their credit, no one said anything as they walked up the steps.

Danny, knowing that the front door is almost never actually locked, goes on autopilot and just walks in. He heads for the kitchen, leading the others to sit down at the table. “Jazz?” He calls into the house.

Jazz comes into the room cautiously, holding the creep stick. “Jazz, It’s Danny! We made it. Do you know where my body is?”

“Wow.” Jazz says, looking Danny up and down. Danny realizes belatedly that she’s looking at Jason.

Jason comes in, waving at his family, who eye him curiously. Danny goes to step in front of him.

“Hi.” Danny is sheepish, looking down at himself. He is so much shorter than Jason.

“Hey.” Jason gives him a quick head nod in greeting. “Are you ready to switch back?”

“So ready.” Danny breathes out. He reaches a hand out and Jason goes to shake it. When their hands connect, they are frozen for a second. Danny blinks.

#my writing #fanfiction #batman #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #soulmate au #red hood

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months ago

Note

I’m honor of my first “ramble” about sevika…

I was wondering.. if you could write about performing anal on sevika with a strap but also using a separate dildo to use on her cunt..

Goddddd her ass is just so fucking unbghhhhh in those fuckingn pants… godddd she deserves everythingggggggggg

(I don’t think you got my last request cause tumblr’s being weird but you’re such a good author!!! One of the best and utterly amazing!!)

EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH (and thank u so much this is so fucking nice!!)

men and minors dni

sevika didn't bottom much before meeting you.

to be fair, before you, she didn't do nearly as much laughing as she does now, she didn't smile so much, she didn't eat this often or well...

but you changed a lot of things for her. sevika feels safe with you.

safe enough to bottom just as often as you do. safe enough to admit how much she loves feeling you inside her. how much she loves the stretch, the fullness, the girth.

safe enough to blink up at you shyly one night, a blush high on her cheeks as she whispered out a sweet question-- 'c-can you touch me... here?' -- as she dragged your hand a little lower than her dripping cunt.

you happily obliged. both you and sevika were shocked at how quickly she came with two fingers in her ass and your tongue on her clit.

and now sevika's obsessed with anal.

it's just another thing she's learned about herself in her time with you; she's realized she likes cuddling, that she hates iceskating, that she actually doesn't hate dancing, and that, you know... she's a bit of a slut for anal.

which is how you find yourself here, your wife's legs hooked over your hips, your strap buried in her ass, your second finger slowly working its way into her cunt.

sevika's a fucking mess. she gets so fucking leaky when you're in her ass, you've bought a specialized super absorbant sex towel for this exact reason.

she's been on edge all day-- you'd gently fingered her ass open this morning before shoving one of her biggest plugs in her and sending her off to work, laughing as you watched her waddle awkwardly down the driveway.

you've only been inside her for a few minutes, but there's already a puddle under her ass.

"i-i can take more!" sevika whines. you chuckle.

"i just got this one inside you baby. just relax 'n feel good for me. i promise i'll fill you up like you need." sevika huffs up at you. you snort and pull your fingers out of her cunt to give her clit a slap. "brat." you sigh fondly.

sevika squeaks and squirts a little, and she glares up at you. "put your fucking fingers back in." she demands.

you roll your eyes but oblige. "so needy." you whisper as you sink two fingers back into her cunt, your hips keeping their steady, slow, shallow thrusts.

she's so fucking tight with your strap in her ass, you can feel the tip of your dick moving inside her against your fingers. and she looks delicious. she's drenched in sweat, a blush running all the way down her chest, her thighs and abs twitching as her hands clench the plush towel underneath her.

and fuck her cunt.

she's squelching and dripping around you, her pretty clit's poking out of it's hood begging for attention, her walls slowly stretching around your fingers as you fuck them deeper and deeper inside her.

"i'm gonna--" sevika whimpers before cutting herself off with a bite to her lip.

you pull away completely, leaving both her holes empty.

"what the fuck?!" she growls, shoving up on her elbows to glare at you.

you're too hypnotized by the sight of her pretty holes, both clenching desperately around nothing, just begging for you to fill her again. "you're so fucking pretty." you whisper.

sevika's frustration melts and she collapses against the bed. you gently guide her legs to the mattress, pinning them where they're spread as you duck down to lick one long stripe from her twitching clit, down her cunt, and to her ass.

she's tugging at your hair the second your face is between her legs, babbling nonsense as she tries to get your tongue inside her ass.

you just giggle, the vibrations making her shiver as you kiss and suck her rim.

"pl-- bab-- i wan-- fuck! c'mon!" sevika whines. you chuckle and stand back up again, smiling down at your squirming wife.

"what do you want?" you ask as you trail a featherlight finger over her clit. she's so fucking sensitive it makes you a little crazy.

"fuck me!" sevika demands, even stoming her foot on the mattress a bit. you burst into laughter, and sevika huffs a tiny laugh at her behavior before reaching up and tugging your hand back down toward her cunt. "please." she whispers sincerely, blinking up at you with her wide, sparkly eyes.

fuck. how can you say no to that?

you easily slide three fingers inside her cunt, fucking her until she's shivering before you guide the tip of your cock back inside her.

the moment your tip slides in, sevika's clawing at your shoulders. "more! more, all of it, i need more, fuck me! fuck me!" she begs.

you lean down and kiss her lips; and then follow her request, snapping your hips against her ass as you start to work your fingers against her g-spot.

"fu-u-u-u-u-u-ck."

"there you go, baby." you sigh as you kiss her cheek and lick up a bead of sweat on her temple. your thighs and wrist are soaked in her cum, and her cunt is trying desperately to pull your fingers deeper. "you ready?" you whisper, gently thumbing her clit.

sevika cums. you laugh as you watch your wife fall apart at just the question, and finger her through her squirting, whimpering, desperately-nodding-yes orgasm.

the moment sevika's eyes snap back open, she pulls her claws out of your shoulder and fumbles for the the dildo resting beside her, practically flinging it at you with her excitement.

you giggle, gently pulling your fingers out of her cunt to catch it. it's smaller than your cock, and sevika was begging for you to use a bigger one, but as much as you love indulging the size queen in her, it's her first time doing this.

which is why your hands are shaking a bit as you try to guide the dildo to sevika's cunt. your fingers are still so slick from being inside of her that the didlo slips right out of your fingers. "oh, shit." you curse.

you and sevika both fumble to catch the fluorescent pink dick-- the absurdity of the situation hitting you with full force as it slips flops around in the air.

you both burst into laughter, and you have duck down to nuzzle against her throat, muffling your laugh against her sweaty skin as she tries to contain her giggles.

"you okay?" you ask. sevika snorts and nods, kissing your scalp.

"yeah. you?" she asks.

you take a deep breath and push back up off of sevika, smiling down at her. "i'm perfect." you say.

she huffs and rolls her eyes, then twines her legs around your waist, your cock shifting a bit inside her ass. you both hiss, and then sevika grins wickedly. "here." she hands you the dildo again. "now fuck me."

you smile, bringing the dildo to your lips, spitting on it and moaning. beneath you, sevika shivers, and her eyes grow impossibly wider as you push the cock between your lips, getting it wet for her-- not like she needs it.

still. it's worth it for the way she's looking at you as you bring the dildo down to her cunt.

it slips in obscenely easily.

you nearly cum the moment it does.

"fuck sevika-- how do you feel baby?" you ask.

"i-- ah!" she's gasping and clawing at the sheets. you stop thrusting, and sevika's eyes snap open, glaring up at you. "fuck me!"

you grin down at her and start thrusting your hips slowly as you inch the dildo further and further inside her cunt. you're hypnotized, honored, and hornier than you've ever been in your fucking life as you watch your wife take you. when you finally push all the way in, you stop thrusting, and blink down at sevika with a smile that's surely bordering on insane.

"you're all full of me." you whisper.

sevika cums at your words.

you giggle, drunk off the experience, and start to slowly fuck her with both your cock, and the one in your hands. each thrust has her voice rising in pitch-- one long squeal echoing throughout your bedroom as she squirts and shivers around you.

when she's done, the first thing she does is reach up and pull you down, wrapping her limbs around you like a koala. she's still shivering and heaving, and you still your movement, resting against your wife. "sevika?"

"one second." she says.

you give her time, kissing against the fat of her breast, drawing patterns into her ribs. 'i love you.' you mouth against her neck.

sevika must feel your lips, she must recognize the movement, because she pinches your ass and giggles. "i love you too." she says.

"are you okay?" you ask-- knowing she's probably sick of the question but not caring in the slightest. sevika snorts and smacks your ass right where she's just pinched it.

"just wanted to remember how it feels to be so full of you." she whispers.

now it's your turn to cum at her words.

it catches you entirely off guard, but the moment the words leave her mouth you're gasping a quiet "fuck!" and grinding helplessly against her.

sevika bursts into giggles beneath you, kissing you as you fall apart.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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tinyluvs · 1 year ago

Note

pookie i’m in heat again i’m humbly begging on my knees for anything spencer smut 🙏

i love that there’s no details so i can do whatever i want *mdni* we’re doing cockwarming with spencer! also it’s much longer to make up for the lack of posts recently!! mwah, enjoy, ilysm!

“i can feel you staring at me,” spencer mumbles but he doesn’t look up from his paperwork, wildly scribbling over the bits of paper that scatter over his desk in the corner of the room

your cheeks heat, he’s right, you were staring. the film you put on had been forgotten about a while ago, your attention turning to your boyfriend

“sorry,” you huff, frowning slightly as you look away from him, staring through the tv rather than at it, “when will you be done?” you whine softly

spencer’s day off has been completely consumed by work, apart from the brief breakfast you’d shared when you’d both woken up, “when i’m done,” spencer answers softly, no heat behind it

it’s not your fault you’d been staring, truly, it’s just your boyfriend looks incredible. his hair looks soft, touchable, as it falls around his face while he looks down at his work, only tilting his head back occasionally to keep his glasses from falling off

“can’t you take a break?” you ask quietly, looking at him with a slight pout, “just a little one?”

he looks up briefly, “angel,” he warns, having already told you multiple times he needs to finish his work as soon as possible, "i'll finish faster if you stop interrupting,"

loudly, you groan, turning your body so that you're laying on the sofa, your head flat against the seat cushions while your knees are bent up, knocking together gently as they block spencer from your view

you peek around your legs, jaw dropping as your boyfriend stretches, a grunt passing his lips while veins ripple over his exposed arms, a huge perk of the short sleeved tops he wears around the apartment

involuntarily, your thighs press together, the previous want of just a kiss quickly being forgotten about as it unravels into more in your mind.

a warmth builds in your stomach while a heat spreads between your legs, your eyes focusing on a particular spot on the ceiling while you whimper quietly to yourself, or so you thought

"sweetheart," spencer hums, amusement evident in his tone. you hum, not daring to look his way, "you okay?" he asks and once again, you hum quietly, "come over here,"

you shoot up, body moving before your brain and before you know it, you're across the room in seconds, rounding the desk as he rolls his chair away from it, thighs spread while he looks up at you

his hands slide over your waist, pulling you towards him until you're stood between his legs, "you sure you're okay?" he asks again, leaning back in his chair

before you can reply, one of his hands drops, slowly pushing between your thighs before sliding upwards. you gasp, your legs clenching around his wrist, "no!" you squeak, grabbing at his shoulder

slightly satisfied, spencer hums and nods, "tell me what's wrong," he pushes. you gasp again as his fingers bump at your pussy, covered by your panties and pyjama bottoms, a wet patch soaking through both layers of clothing

gently you rock forwards, "just want you," you whine, nails digging into his shoulder, your head tilting back ever so slightly while your breaths come faster, "please," you plead

spencer thinks, eyes trained on where you're shamelessly grinding your pussy over his hand, "need it that bad?" he asks, a little condescending, though now is not the time to pull him up on it

"yes,"

his hand leaves your body, his touch immediately being missed, causing you to whine, "i know," he pouts at you, his hands palming over his own cock, which, only now do you notice, is hard, tenting in his trousers

you watch as he rolls his hips upwards, his thumb catching under the waistband of his bottoms, pulling them down enough to free his cock, pre come leaking over the tip

"honey," spencer breathes hard, the hand that's not wrapped around his cock pulling at your own trousers, yanking them down your legs enough for you to step out of them. he pulls on your wrist, moving you so that you're trapped between him and the desk

he kicks your legs apart, gently, while bending you over, your hands creasing papers with the fbi crest printed on them, "spence," you whimper in anticipation, not being able to see what he's doing behind you

your body jerks as his fingers slip through your folds, spreading your slick upwards to your clit, "come back," spencer huffs as you jerk again, surging away from him. he pulls you back with a hand on your hip

"please," you cry out, every nerve in your body buzzing. his fingers circle your clit once more before he's pulling you back even further

the air gets punched out of your lungs, a noise halfway between a moan and a shout passing your lips as he pulls you back onto his cock, stretching you open in one thrust

your thighs shake, where they rest over his as you sit in his lap, your nails digging into the wood of his desk, “fuck, oh my god,” you whine

spencer grunts, one of his hands pushing and pulling on your hip, grinding you over him to get you settled on top of him, his other hand snakes around your waist, keeping you from bouncing on him like you want to

“just stay still, yeah?” spencer asks, voice low and hushed against your ear, his lips pressing against the spot just behind your earlobe that drives you crazy

his teeth graze your skin, a completely unfair move considering you have to stay still, “i don’t think i can,” you whine, clenching tightly around him, your nails moving from the desk to his thighs

your boyfriend hums, “i think you can, just for a little bit,” he kisses your temple and reaches around you, continuing to scribble on papers like he had been before

with a soft whimper, you accept your fate, sitting still on top of him, just keeping his cock warm while he works around you, as if you’re not even there

every movement he makes somehow pushes his cock slightly further into you, the tip pressing against a spot that has your thighs practically vibrating

“just a little longer,” spencer mumbles when you tilt your head back, silently willing the tears building up in your eyes, not to fall, “doing so good for me,”

the end of his pen drums against your stomach where his arm stays, trapping you in place. his hips shift cruelly, “spencer, please,”

he doesn’t answer you, simply scribbling onto a piece of paper before flipping open a file. tears spill down your cheeks, betraying you far too quickly

“you okay?” spencer asks softly, thumb brushing against your stomach while his lips press against your shoulder blade

blindly he grabs at your hand, pulling it away from his thigh and back towards your stomach, “yeah,” you sniffle, looking down at your joined hands

“are you sure?” he presses, writing and reading paused while he checks on you. gently, you nod, “i won’t be long, i promise,”

he starts to rush or at least it looks like he does, a sense of urgency taking over when he feels you leaking around him, both of your thighs coated in your slick

“nearly there,” spencer hums, separating your hands so he can jam his between your legs, fingers circling your clit lightly

your fingers wrap loosely around his wrist, your brain turning to mush while he touches you, “oh god,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip

as your mouth opens, ready to give in, ready to beg until he gives you what you want, spencer surges forward, standing up quickly behind you

you end up bent over his desk once more, this time it’s your chest pressed against his books and files, “fuck,” you sob when he pulls out

he thrusts forwards hard, sending your hips into the edge of the desk, “feel so good around me,” he grunts, pulling hard on your hips, pulling you back onto him

truthfully, your limbs feel like jelly, the desk fully supporting your weight while spencer drags you over his cock, leaving you to just lay there and take it

“oh, ‘m so close,” you gasp, reaching behind you. his fingers tangle with yours again, settling in the dip at the base of your spine, “please, please, pl-”

spencer leans over you, peppering kisses between your shoulder blades, “come for me, angel,” he mumbles against your back

you don’t need anything more to send you over the edge, your thighs shake while an unintelligible stream of words tumble past your lips

“fuck, there you go,” spencer grunts through gritted teeth. your pussy sucks him in, tightening around him like a vice, “oh go-”

between the feeling of your wet, hot cunt and the way you’re pulsing around him, spencer comes with a deep moan, his forehead pressed to your back while his hips stutter against yours

you whimper pathetically as his come floods your cunt, filling you up in a way nothing else ever could, “oh,” you gasp, completely fucked out

spencer huffs, moving to press his lips against your temple, “you did so good for me-,” he mumbles a seemingly endless stream of praise into your ear, “i love you so much,”

“love you too,” you mumble back as you get some feeling back into your limbs. you push up from the desk, still leaning on it as you rut back against spencer slightly, “are you going to finish your work now?” you ask quietly

“no, it can wait until tomorrow now,”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

a/n please tell me if you see a mistake, i tried to proofread but not sure how well i did it lol

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid thoughts #spencer reid fic #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic recs #❥ spencer reid drabbles

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Omg ok Jade my love can I request a princess soulmate au with Steve? Where reader is Prince Steve’s soulmate but maybe she’s not royal herself and is struggling a bit with being the future princess?

Almost like similar vibes to some of the loser gf with rockstar Sirius things you’ve done

thank you sm for your request! (sci-fi fairytale au) prince!steve

cw talk of losing weight to fit into a dress

Prince Steven sits across from you with a bowl of grapes and a pair of embroidery scissors. He's going to stab me, you think morosely. I'm wretched and boring and he's going to stab me and then the stars will give him another soulmate and he'll forget this whole misfortune.

He seems lost for words as you are, or uninterested. You think he's going to talk and he eats another grape instead, hair fluttering in the breeze that filters in from the balcony, his eyes trained on the holoscreen. He's pretty —soft face, softer hair, almond shaped eyes that seem perpetually amused— but more alarmingly, he's fit. Physically fit from years of sports. Royals do all manner of olympiad competition, evident in his toned shoulders and his sun-kissed skin.

"How's your embroidery?" he asks suddenly.

You startle, pretending you'd been attending to that rather than staring at him uselessly. "It's going well, Prince Steven," you lie. You've never embroidered before —you have practical sewing skills for darning scuffed trousers and patching elbows, but embroidery is a labour of time. Time is a luxury you haven't had.

"Steve," he corrects.

"Do I… Is it really okay for me to call you that? Won't people think I'm presumptuous?"

"Ten dollar word." He slides the bowl toward you, a beautifully glazed ceramic piece that likely cost more than your month's rent. "Well, they usually let me have whatever I want, and I want you to call me Steve. And to relax. And eat more."

"I can't. They said I need to fit into my wedding dress."

"The wedding dress needs to fit you," Steve says, the simple cut of his button down pulled snug to his chest as he leans back in his chair. "Not the other way around. Is that why you didn't eat much at breakfast? Or was it just gross?"

"It wasn't gross," you say softly.

"You don't have to do any of that stuff, either, if it's boring."

You run your finger down the creamy linen stretched between your bamboo hoops. "I don't know if it's boring. I can barely do it."

"You're too mean to yourself," he says.

Steve stands and puts his arm behind his head, pushing his elbow until something clicks. Embarrassed by his dismissal, you stare at your hands and fume at yourself when they begin to tremble.

It's too much. All of it. The cruel Palace attendants who know you're not good enough. Steve and his good nature. The wedding dress, the fine China, your wonky stitches.

Steve steps to your side. He holds out his hand, and you pass him your embroidery without meeting his eyes. Your mood worsens at the sharp slink of snipping, sure that Steve will cut your pattern from the sketch and tell you to start again.

"Sorry, your white knot at the back was bothering me. Pass me a slimmer needle? I'll tuck it behind your stitches."

Astonished, you pass Steve a smaller needle from the pin cushion. His brows creases gently as he works, rewiring the white thread with patience and efficiency.

"There. It looks really nice, honey. You're a fast learner." He passes you the hoop. You take it a beat too slow and he either doesn't notice or doesn't make a fuss, chucking you under the chin softly. "Don't worry so much. I'll talk to Cordelia about your wedding dress, the idea that you need to fit into it like it's one size fits all is dumb. It's made for you. Like, what are they expecting?"

"They're probably hoping this is all a big mistake."

"Did someone say that to you?"

"Nobody had to say it to me, I can tell from the way they look at…" Steve takes your face into his hand, effectively killing anything you'd been trying to say.

He seems royal, then. Used to getting his way, maybe, the disapproving lining of his otherwise sweet eyes. You get a flash of a memory, the morning you'd been presented, Steve in his finery with his platinum crown like a beacon in brown hair, you in your best dress, embarrassingly drab in comparison, your hand offered. He'd been meeting with eligible women all week.

You were there as a formality. Never for a second did you think your soul mark would react to his, lines of light around your opposite wrists.

To think you'd worried about touching him. You could never imagine how beautifully careful he is, how tender. You didn't know men were like this until Steve showed you, his niceness apparently bone deep and in everything he does.

"If people are being jerks, you have to tell me." You never imagined how casual and vulgar he'd be either. "What's the point in being a princess if people don't respect you?"

"I'm not a princess," you say. Your heart is a hummingbird as he turns his hand and strokes your cheeks with the backs of his fingers.

"You will be. Nothing can change that. You're going to be a princess, and you can do as much or as little as you want, because those dorks left me in charge and I say so. I can decree it, if that makes you feel better," he says, dropping his hand, the phantom of it lingering like static shock.

"What if I'm not meant for this?" you ask quietly, shy but terrified enough to ask.

"I was meant for you," he says, tone matching yours in timidity. His sleeves rolled up as they are, you can see the soft light of his soul mark taking a pink hue. "Right?"

Your soul mark glows a gentle pink to match his. Because you and Steve don't know one another well, not yet, but the feeling is there, thrumming under the skin like a pulse. Not love, not not love, a glowing desire. A want to know him.

There have been moments where you wished he wasn't a Prince, but then there's no guarantee you ever would have met.

"Right," you mouth, offering him a small smile.

"We were meant to be together…" Steve bends at the waist, meeting your eyes. He's yet to kiss you in the week since you met, but his touches come braver everyday, the unfamiliarity between you melding into butterflies. His smirk shakes them awake. "So let's be together the way we want to. Think of princess-ing as optional."

"And you as mandatory?"

"I'm also optional," he says with a warm laugh. "But dinner is not. I need to know what you like, if we're going to get married."

You practically gulp. Right. You're going to be his soulmate, his princess, and his wife.

"Don't be scared. I'm not cooking it, chef Joyce is." Steve brushes hair from his eyes like a model from the giant holo screens, unaware of his own attractiveness. "I'm a shitty cook. My talents lie in other things," he drawls grandly, "like lacrosse, and neck massages."

He winks. You laugh genuinely for the first time since you met him, and his face splits with glee.

—

if you want to request anything for this AU please do! steampunk princess soulmate and her smitten prince is my new fave thing

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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bunny-1111 · 2 months ago

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hii i kind of recently stumbled into your account and i absolutely fell in love!! i love your writing and your theme 🤍 i was wondering if you could make one with theo where he's academic rivals with y/n but one day he pushes y/n a bit too far and it ends in him comforting/"babying" her? u can make them end up together or not its up to you! thank you in advanced ml

Thank you babyyyyyy <3 I appreciate you sm, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 3.8k

Unedited and not reread

Reblogs comment and like appropriated my darlings

...

The flicker of candlelight and the soft shuffling of enchanted books were the only sounds in the nearly deserted library. You blinked, the strain in your eyes a reminder of the four long hours you had spent hunched over your notes. Stretching your arms above your head, you allowed your gaze to wander, taking in the rows of shelves and the dim ambience. The stillness of the evening should have been calming, but it wasn’t. Not when your eyes finally landed on him.

Theodore Nott was already staring at you, his dark eyes gleaming with that infuriating smirk, a silent taunt written all over his face. He didn’t even have to say a word to get under your skin; just being there, watching you, was enough.

You sighed, refusing to break the stare as he approached, his steps deliberate, elbows resting on the edge of your cluttered table without so much as a word. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of speaking first. If he wanted to start this, he could be the one to open his mouth.

“Struggling again, I see,” his voice finally cut through the quiet, dripping with arrogance as he nodded towards your scattered textbooks.

“I’m succeeding, not struggling, Nott,” you snapped, your gaze flicking back to your notes. The exhaustion gnawing at you was starting to wear thin, but you wouldn’t let him see it. “Maybe if you spent less time bothering me, you’d be worried about keeping up.”

Theo chuckled, stepping around the table, his presence closing in behind you. You could feel him hovering, leaning just close enough that the heat of his gaze bore into your back. “I’ll be waiting at the top while you catch up,” he murmured.

Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as you buried yourself further into your notes. You knew his game well by now—pushing, teasing, always trying to be one step ahead. He lived for it, as did you but lately, you were starting to feel like it was wearing you down.

“Wrong year,” his finger dropped onto your page, tapping on one of your scribbled notes. “It was 1783, not 1781. Get that wrong, and you can kiss ten marks goodbye. There’s so much for you to learn, I'll tutor you. You clearly need the extra help. How about we start with the Declaration of mer-kind Independence” he teases slowly

“I’m fine,” you say hiss, pulse-quickening in irritation. He picks up a stray book you had abandoned over an hour ago

He chuckles, a low sound that sets your nerves on edge. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just offering to help.” he studies the back of the book cover in his hands, whipping your head around, snatching the book back off him.

“Don’t touch what’s not yours, Theodore, and you're wrong, it's not mer-kind, it’s merpeople. Misuse the term, and you can say goodbye to 10 marks” You smile, using his own words against him.

He only grinned wider; he loved it when you played this game. “You’ll be back here tomorrow?” he asked like it was already decided.

“Mhm,” you hummed, gathering your things. “Nowhere better.” You didn’t bother with a goodbye, letting your words linger in the air as you made your exit.

The next day, as promised, you returned. Same seat. Same workload. But this time, the weight of it all pressed harder against your temples, exhaustion gnawing at you, threatening to topple the carefully built walls of concentration you had managed to put up. Don’t let him get to you, you reminded yourself; three weeks of non-stop studying couldn't be for nothing. But even as you focused on the page in front of you, you didn’t have to look up to know Theo had arrived.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that parchment if you keep glaring at it like that,” his voice cuts through your thoughts.

Your grip tightens around your quill, ignoring him completely, even as your cheeks flush with irritation.

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” he adds, that familiar teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

You finally glance up, the smirk on his face testing your patience. Theo, as usual, drops into the seat across from you, uninvited. His dark eyes glint with amusement—he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. He always knows how to push your buttons.

"Don’t you have your own table?" you mutter, eyes flicking back to your notes.

"This one’s got a better view." His gaze is fixed pointedly on you.

You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling up. "If you’re here to distract me, save it. I’m focusing."

"Oh, I’m sure you are." His tone is light and teasing, but there’s always that edge to it. "But no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to beat me on this test tomorrow."

His words hit harder than they should. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your expression neutral. The weight of the upcoming test, the sleepless nights, the constant competition with Theo—it’s all piling on, suffocating you.

"I don’t have time for your games, Theo," you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

He raises an eyebrow, not even flinching. "Games? I thought you enjoyed our little rivalry. Keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?" He leans over, slamming your book shut without warning.

You slam your hand over the book, eyes wide with frustration. "Don’t touch my stuff! Just… go find your own table!"

Theo doesn’t respond immediately, but the smirk falters. He gathers his things with more force than necessary, walking to the next table. But he doesn’t stop there, not entirely. "Yeah, well, don’t stop studying now," he throws over his shoulder. "Wouldn’t want a repeat of last year’s essay, would we?"

That comment—it hits differently this time. You’ve barely slept, barely eaten, and the pressure is crushing you. The final thread of patience snaps inside of you.

"Why do you always do this?!" Your voice echoes in the library as you stand abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. Several students glance your way, but you don’t care. "Every time, Theo. You can’t leave me alone for five minutes!"

Theo looks taken aback, clearly not expecting the outburst. He recovers quickly though, that smug mask returning. "Because I know you can handle it. It’s called motivation."

"Motivation?" you scoff, barely believing your ears.

You let out a bitter laugh, shoving your books into your bag with a force that surprises even you. “You know what? I’m done. Done with you and your constant need to prove you’re better than me. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Fucking pathetic ”

The scrape of your chair against the floor is loud, cutting through the silence of the library as nearby students glance up. Theo’s smile dropped, his expression shifting as he watched you storm off, you didn’t wait for him to respond. When you finally reach the astronomy tower, the cold night air hits your face the moment you step outside, but it does nothing to cool the simmering anger burning inside you. Leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, you try to steady your breath, but your chest heaves with frustration. Why does he always have to push so hard? Why can’t he just—

“Hey.”

The sound of his voice makes you tense. You don’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

“looking for you,” he says, stopping a few feet away, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “You left in a bit of a hurry.”

“Yeah. Intentionally,” you mutter, eyes fixed on the ground.

Theo moves closer, a sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t like seeing you react like that.”

You scoff, pushing off the wall to face him. “Maybe if you didn’t constantly push me to my breaking point, I wouldn’t. I can’t keep up with your games anymore. I’m not eating, I’m not sleeping—it’s messing with my head. Why do you insist on this bullshit?”

He finally speaks. “I push you because you’re the only one who can keep up and what the fuck do you mean not eating, not sleeping”

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process what he just said. For years, you thought the rivalry was all about him proving he was better, about him enjoying getting under your skin. But this—this feels different. More personal.

“I don’t understand,” you manage to say, your voice quiet.

Theo takes a step closer, his dark eyes searching yours. “I push you because I like spending time with you. You get so focused, so intense, and it drives me crazy in the best way. When you make that face when you're really focused; you have a certain smile when you get a higher grade than me, too” His voice is low, careful, and it makes your heart pound you turn to leave, to catch up with your beating heart in private, when he grabs your wrist, pulling your right back

Before either of you can say another word, footsteps echo from the stone steps behind you. The unmistakable voices of Pansy and Enzo interrupt the fragile moment.

“Honestly, if Theo’s up here sulking again, I’m hexing him,” Pansy’s voice echoes up the stairs, cutting through the silence, laced with her typical blend of annoyance and affection. “I don’t have the energy for his brooding tonight.”

Before you can even think to pull away, Theos arm relaxes on yours, still tight enough to keep you in place, gentle enough for you to not want to let go, The moment between you and Theo hangs in the air, fragile and unfinished.

“Wow,” is what automatically splits out of your best friend's witty tongue, looking between the two of you. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” Pansy smirks, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you standing so close. “Did I interrupt some kind of lovers' spat turned romantic reconciliation?”

Enzo leans against the doorway, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Looks like Theo’s finally stopped acting like a total git,” he says with a chuckle. “About time.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you try to pull away, but Theo doesn’t let you go, his arm still firmly wrapped around your waist. “It’s not—” you start, but Pansy’s smirk only deepens.

“Please, spare me,” she says, waving a hand dramatically. “I’ve been watching this slow burn for years. You can drop the act now.”

Enzo smirks, clearly enjoying Theo’s discomfort. “Who knew Theo had a soft side?”

Theo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you two not?”

Pansy crosses her arms, the grin never leaving her face. “Oh, please. Don’t stop on our account. I’m dying to see how this academic rivalry plays out when you two finally, you know, release your tension.” She winks.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes, “It’s not what it looks like,” you mumble, saving your almost-exposed smile

“You two have been going at it for so long, it was bound to end in a hug or a duel. Looks like you chose the softer option.” Smiles Enzo

You bite back a laugh, “Well, it hasn’t ended in bloodshed… yet” you joke, glancing up at him.

Pansy leans against the wall, still smirking. “So, what’s the plan now? Are you two going to keep pretending you hate each other or finally admit there’s something more going on?”

Theo shakes his head, looking amused despite himself. “You’re unbelievable, Pansy.”

Pansy just grins wider. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You glare at her, but there’s no real bite behind it. It’s Pansy, after all, and if anyone was going to notice the tension between you and Theo, it was going to be her. Still, your cheeks burn as she watches you both with that insufferable smirk of hers.

Theo sighs beside you, “Merlin, Pansy, can you not?”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” Pansy teases, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying, if you’ve finally decided to stop terrorising each other, the least you can do is admit it.

Enzo, clearly enjoying Theo’s misery, pats him on the back. “Don’t worry, mate. We’re rooting for you me and Draco have a bet of 5 galleons again Blaise that you two get together before end of school year.”

“Get the fuck out of here, both of you,” Theo growls, but his eyes flick to you as he says it. His tone, the one that’s usually directed at you, is now used for your defense. And you don’t miss the way his gaze softens as Pansy and Enzo finally turn to leave, You roll your eyes, though the tension in your chest loosens slightly. “This isn’t some grand confession,” you mutter, glancing up at Theo. “Right?”

Theo smirks down at you, the usual arrogance gone, replaced with something softer. “Right,” he agrees, though the hand still resting on your waist suggests otherwise.

Pansy snorts. “not in love with each other, my ass. You two have been circling each other like animals for years, and now look at you, all cosy.”

With that, you finally step back from Theo, he didn’t fight you dropping your hand, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re fine, Pansy. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing a word. “Whatever you say, you’re my best friend if you think I’m going to let this slide without some serious teasing later, you’re delusional.”

you roll your eyes. “Why don’t you go find something else to meddle in, Pans?” Theo lets out before you have the chance to reply. Unbeknownst to you he is desperately wanting for you two to be alone again

Pansy grins wickedly. “Oh, I fully intend to. But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go. I’ll need a full report on how we got here.”

Enzo nudges her, clearly ready to leave you two alone. “Come on, Pans. Let them breathe.”

Pansy gives you both one last pointed look before finally turning to follow Enzo out. “I’ll be waiting for details,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice sing-song and full of mischief.

The door swings shut behind them, and the quiet returns. You glance up at Theo, unsure whether to laugh or cringe at Pansy’s dramatics.

Once they’re gone, the space feels quieter. Lighter. Theo shifts beside you, and for the first time, the tension between you two doesn’t feel like it’s pulling you apart.

“So” Theo starts hesitantly. “Do you still think I’m just trying to one-up you?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admit softly.

He steps closer, his usual bravado slipping away, replaced by something more vulnerable. “Then let me tell you.” His hand moves, and before you can react, his fingers gently cup your cheek. The warmth of his palm against your skin makes your breath catch. “You’re a bright witch. Brighter than anyone I know. I can see you’re tired of this game… but you’re not tired of me.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for the first time, it feels like the competition has faded into the background, leaving something real in its place. Something different.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice steadier than you expected.

Theo’s about to smile when you pull away, breaking the moment. “I have to go. There’s that test tomorrow, and I want a good night’s sleep.”

“Mhm,” he nods, though his eyes linger on you, like he’s not ready to let the moment end.

You manage a small smile. “Still have to try and beat you, Nott.”

But he doesn’t laugh this time. There’s something more behind his eyes, something deeper, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe you’ve been playing the wrong game all along, he’s wondering the same thing.

You have an overwhelming feeling that if you stay alone with him any longer you’re going to do something without thought, or that he might bet you to it, your mind was a mess, you turn saying nothing more, not even a goodnight, racing with your own legs to catch up to Pansy.

The test comes and goes, and you walk out of the classroom with your head hanging low. You feel miserable, you aren't confident in your work, and you are terrified it will reflect on your grade.

On top of that you’ve made it your mission to avoid Theodore like the plague. How could you two even communicate without the teasing, without the constant back-and-forth, without unnerving everyone else around you? You have no idea, and you’re not about to figure it out anytime soon, it brought on a new set of frustration, a new set of nerves, it was almost worse than before.

As you sit, wanting to sink into your seat, waiting for your result, you feel a tremble threaten to spill out of your lips. You’re haze broken by a soft nudge that sways your body, looking over to see Theodore; with a sigh, you set your eyes straight ahead; you can't afford to become distracted now. You can’t take much more uncertainty.

You take a shaky breath as the parchment lands before you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at it. You already know. The sinking feeling in your gut says it all.

You failed.

Your hands shake as you stare down at it, that big, ugly number glaring back at you. Not just a bad grade—an actual, undeniable failure. The first one you’ve ever had. And it crushes you. The pressure to keep up, to stay on top of everything, to keep pace with him.

You brace yourself, waiting for the inevitable jab, you felt things changing between you both, but you still expected a small dose of sarcasm.

But it doesn’t come.

Theo is quiet. Too quiet. You chance a glance over, expecting his usual cocky grin, but what you find is... different. His expression is unreadable, brows furrowed as he watches you. There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just... concern.

“You okay?” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, careful, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

You blink, startled by the gentleness. “Fine,” you mutter, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

He doesn’t believe you. He leans in a little closer, eyes narrowing as if he’s studying you, really looking at you, “dismissed” you hear your professor say above the noise of the classroom chatter.

You waste no time leaving class. You rub your eyes as you make your way down the hall, straight down to your common room.

You felt sad, disheartened, unaccomplished; you hadn't even noticed Theodore light jog to join you by your side, so unfocused that you kept walking when he called you to stop, he had to place his hands on your shoulders, his knuckles lifting your chin to force you to face him.

So there you stood, eyes meeting his and here is comes, the waterworks, unintentionally falling down your face.

You had no idea how Theo would react, Merlin, you didn’t want this to be happening but, it was, you couldn’t stop if you tried.

He wastes no time in pulling you into his chest. “Come on,” he mutters, rubbing your shoulder with his thumb, leading you both to the nearby couch in the empty common room.

When you finally have enough courage to look back up, you almost cry again when you lock eyes with the softness of Theo’s, never experiencing the affectionateness of each other.

“I failed” you choke out, muffled into his chest, he pulls you out to face him immediately “No. You didn’t,” he says as surprised as you are

“I did” you cry harder, forcing yourself back into his chest, his hands now find their way into your hair

“This is my fault, I pushed you too hard, for too long, I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry” he rambles

"You don’t have to apologise," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I should’ve taken better care of myself."

Theo’s gaze snapped back to you, intense and unwavering. Both of his hands on each side of your face. "No," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. “I am sorry” he repeated

You looked down, your heart pounding in your chest. It felt surreal—this conversation, this moment. The Theo you knew, the Theo who pushed you to your limits and didn't feel sorry, you who would push him unapologetically, that Theo wouldn’t be saying these things, that you wouldn’t be feeling these things. But here he was, raw and real in front of you, admitting that he’d been wrong, and here you were, scared if you looked into his eyes for a second longer, you’d reveal how you felt before you could even come to terms with it.

"I don’t know what to say," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing a soft kiss onto your forehead ever so lightly, the touch sent a shiver down your spine, you didn’t pull away. "You don’t have to say anything right now," he said softly, his voice warm. "Just… think about it. We can do this together. No more pushing, no more competition—just you and me, figuring it out."

Your heart stuttered at the way he said you and me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it had always been there, hidden beneath the layers of rivalry and tension that had built up over the years.

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. You weren’t sure what this meant—what it would mean for the two of you going forward—but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t drowning under the pressure. Theo was offering something you never thought you’d get from him.

You let out a confused huff, laced with exhaustion, comfort, happiness, sadness, all of it in one sigh. Theo pulls you into a deep hug again, kissing your head over and over, when you finally pull away, you almost whispered "can I-" your lips hovering so close in front of his, "yes" he practically spoke into your mouth as your lips collide, sinking into each other until a sudden gasp makes you both break away and look over

“I fucking TOLD you, Enzo!” Pansy yells out, mouth agape, pointing at the two of you. At the same time, Blaises hands Draco his galleons. Apparently, everyone knew this was coming but the two of you.

i dont know how to feel about this fic tbh. Not my favourite piece of writing, I'm honestly kinda disappointed in this one, I've been working so much I think I'm burnt out... ughhhh anyway love y'all. ANON I hope this is sort of what you had in mind... its almost 3:30 am so IM INSECURE about posting this alright IDKKKK HELP hxweomhfsou,nzw

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