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purple-obsidian · 3 months

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appearances (18+, dick grayson x fem reader) wc 6.7k

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors. special shoutout to @janybabyy for helping me edit this monstrosity. reader is a member of the titans, afab, uses she/her pronouns, and has an established friendship with dick.

Dick's arm is draped around your waist, holding your body close while his enchanting laughter rings in your ear, reacting to a story being told by the other couple sharing the elevator.

"I'm telling the truth! Swear on my life, he actually said that!" The man across from you says, grinning and chuckling. A soft ding grabs your attention, and you clear your throat, looking up at Dick with a soft smile.

"Well, this is our floor. We'll see you in the morning!" You promise, letting Dick pick up your suitcase for you and lead the way. You make your way down the hallway, reading the room numbers as you get closer to the one the receptionist scribbled on your key card. You feel exhausted, and after a long day of pretending to be a happy couple with your teammate, you're happy that it's finally time to rest. You retrieve the room key from your pocket when you finally reach your door, and open it wide for Dick so he can carry your bags in.

You flick the light switch on, taking in the cheap carpeting, generic artwork, and a single queen bed centered on the far wall. "Um... Dick?"

"Hm?" He turns to you, looking just as tired as you feel, no longer fronting as an excited newly-wed. "What is it?"

"Didn't you request a room with two beds?"

His bright blue eyes dart to the singular bed, shoulders slumping in defeat when he realizes there was a mix up in your reservation. "Shit. Lemme call the front desk."

"They're probably full," you comment, letting yourself fall into one of the chairs by the window, sinking down with a tired sigh and kicking off your heels, "Between the convention and the concert this weekend, I'll be shocked if they have any other rooms free."

Dick ignores you, setting down your luggage and walking over to the corded phone on the bedside table. He picks up the receiver, punches the button for guest services, and waits patiently for them to answer. You take a deep breath, relaxing and letting your mind wander as he speaks with the operator, who confirms that there are no more rooms available.

Dick hangs up the phone with a grumble, glancing behind him to look at you.

"Told you so." You chide, a playful grin on your lips.

"I'm sorry," Dick plops himself down on the side of the bed and groans. "There isn't even a pull-out couch."

"We'll be fine," You tell him dismissively, yawning and stretching your hands over your head, "It's only a few nights."

"I can sleep on the floor if you'd be more comfortable that way," He offers, rubbing his eyes.

"As long as you keep your hands to yourself, we'll be fine."

The first night you share a bed, Dick does keep his hands to himself. You're both so exhausted that you fall into a deep sleep almost immediately, making your proximity less awkward. You toss and turn here and there, but otherwise, the night goes on without issue.

The second night is another story.

After another long day of working undercover as newlyweds attending a couples conference, you and Dick are at each other's throats over a disagreement regarding the innocence of the man leading it. You both act your part all day. You kiss his cheek when others are looking. Dick makes an pointed effort to be handsy, ensuring he's touching you in some way whenever appropriate. But once you're in the privacy of the hotel room, the masks come down, and you are at each other's throats, arguing in hushed tones and bickering over what you observed today.

"Why the fuck did you invite me along on this mission if you didn't want my opinion?" You ask harshly, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to remove it so you can shower.

"I couldn't have come alone! It would have been suspicious, and Donna was busy, so you were my only option!"

"Gee, thanks Dick. That makes me feel real good about myself." You hiss, fumbling again with the tiny clasp, "Why couldn't you bring Wally?"

"You know our suspect is homophobic, if I showed up with a man as my partner there's no way I'd be able to get close enough to him!" Dick notices you struggling with your necklace. He sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, "Need some help with that?"

"Fuck off," You mumble dismissively, giving up your efforts, "Screw it, I'll just leave it on."

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, throwing it angrily to the ground. Dick watches, eyes widening a little, unable to stop himself from checking you out and admiring the lacy bra you're wearing, his anger diffusing.

"You mind? I need to shower, give me some privacy," You snap, waving your hand at him dismissively.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Dick growls, coming up behind you, sandwiching your body between him and the vanity, “Hold still.”

You huff, but relax and accept his help remove the chain. His hands are warm against your neck, quickly unclasping the lock and setting the necklace down next to you. You choose to ignore the way his eyes wander, admiring your reflection in the mirror.

“Thanks,” You grumble, your annoyance quickly subsiding, but you keep your eyes narrowed at him.

Maybe you are a bit stubborn.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up, okay? I gotta shower too,” He reminds you before leaving the bathrrom, stealing one last glance at your half naked body and closing the door behind him.

Feeling bitter, you take your time with an extra long, extra hot shower, shaving your legs, exfoliating, deep conditioning your hair, not caring if you’re being petty. You linger, too, lotioning your whole body and applying your hair products, not missing a single step in your routine.

When you finally exit the steamy bathroom, Dick is sitting at the small desk in your room, doing something on his laptop. You walk out in your robe, smoothing your freshly washed hair and making your way over to your suitcase.

“Took you long enough,” Dick comments, giving you a pointed side-eye.

“Sorry,” You mumble, rummaging around for your sleep clothes, “All yours now.”

Waiting until he finishes up and locks himself in the bathroom, you quickly change and crawl into your side of the bed, cozying up to the pillow that smells faintly of bleach. You relax, listening to the muffled sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He's quick enough that you're still awake when he's done. Dick exits the bathroom, hair dripping wet, wearing nothing but his boxers.

"You used all the hot water."

You peek an eye open to glare at him, resenting his accusation, "It's a hotel, Dick. It's going to take a lot more than my twenty minute shower to make the whole building run out of hot water. Maybe you just don't know how to work the faucet."

You notice him shivering, and a pang of guilt eats away at you. But you stand by what you said.

"You took at least 30 minutes. And are you kidding me? You think I'm the type of guy that can't figure out a faucet?"

"Well, no, before this little trip of ours, I didn't think that. But seeing as you can't figure out our guy is guilty when the evidence is laid out in front of you like Thanksgiving dinner, my opinion on your intelligence might be changing."

He grinds his teeth, popping his jaw and clenching his fists at his side until his knuckles crack, "Shoulda brought Wally."

You lift your head so you can glare at him with both eyes, but Dick is already grabbing the comforter and sheet to yank them off the bed, leaving you shivering and exposed.

"Whatthefuck?!" You shriek, pulling your knees to your chest reflexively at the rush of cold air.

Dick jumps onto the bed, pulling the blankets over both of you, and with little effort he pulls your body against his, "I'm fucking freezing." He hisses through gritted teeth, "And I'm about to make it your problem.”

The chill radiating off of his stone-cold chest and body quickly seeps through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and sleep shorts. Flinching, you shiver and claw at the edge of the bed to pull yourself away from him. "Dick! G-Get off of me! This isn't f-funny!" You stammer in desperation.

"No, it isn't."

You long for the satisfaction of smacking the smirk off of him. You can't even see his face since your back is to him, but when you hear his taunting, you just know the cocky bastard is smiling. His strong, cold arms force your back to go flush with his chest again as he wrestles with you, utilizing his jiu-jitsu skills to pin you under him and prevent you from escaping his grasp.

"GET. OFF!!" You yell again.

Dick promptly slaps his right hand over your mouth, bringing his lips to your ear and shushing you. "Remember, we're in a hotel. People could hear you if you screamed. Last thing we need to do is blow our cover."

You groan and struggle to shake your head free of his hand, which is fruitless, but Dick takes pity on you and removes his hand after watching you struggle for a moment.

"This is assault, you know," You growl at him angrily, "You're h-holding me against my will."

"Oh please, I've done worse to you during training. You're fine. Just let me hold you for a minute until I can warm up. You owe me that much," Dick holds you closer to him, and he isn't lying, He really is as cold as an ice cube. Keeping you pinned against the bed, he holds you, fearful that you'll shy away and refuse to share your body heat. But you know when you're beat. The soft spot you have for him trumps your annoyance, and you accept your fate.

You really didn't mean to make him suffer, you just took a tad longer washing yourself than normal. Could it really be your fault that there was no hot water? You take these next few minutes of discomfort to ponder the specifics of hotel plumbing, doing anything to distract yourself from the chill.

Dick notices the subtle shift as you try to relax your body and regulate your breathing. There's something in the way you feel, your body going from tense and combative to calm and still under him, that makes his heartbeat stay elevated, even after he finally starts to warm up.

'She trusts me.' He thinks to himself, 'Or at least, she knows when to give up.'

Several minutes pass by, neither of you asleep, but not speaking. Only the sounds of your breathing are audible in the stillness of the hotel room. Dick starts to feel guilty, now that his body temperature is back to normal, and lifts himself off of you to lay on his back.

"I'm sorry," He says quietly, brows furrowed in thought, "I shouldn't have done that."

Now it's your turn to seek body heat. You let out an involuntary whimper, so soft that you're hoping Dick didn't hear it. "Wait," Your hand finds his chest in the dark, and you pull yourself up so your head is laying directly over his heart, "You might be all warmed up, but I'm still cold."

Your feet, which weren't touching him before, are particularly chilly, so you take this opportunity to press them against his bare leg. Dick tenses in response, but he doesn't push you off of him.

"I deserve this," He whispers in a tone of defeat.

"You're so dramatic," You whisper back.

"And you're more stubborn than the Bat."

"Ouch."

"Am I wrong?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Exactly," He says with a hint of pride.

"Just shut up and warm up, I'm tired," You try to sound firm, but despite your best efforts, your voice sounds sleepy and content.

"You know, maybe I should keep a hold of you all night, to stop you from tossing and turning."

"M'not that bad," You grumble, "You'll survive."

But you soon fall asleep on his chest. Your breathing gets slower and deeper, and you finally relax into a pleasant slumber. Dick isn't far behind you. He is scared to admit to himself how good it feels to have you in his arms. He chalks it up to the fact that he's been pretending to be your husband since you got here, denying anything deeper, and lets his mind shut down and rest, falling asleep to the soft sound of your breathing.

Several hours later, you wake with a start, eyes popping open as you suck in a deep breath. You were having a bizarre dream, but thankfully your less-than-graceful awakening hasn’t seemed to of bothered your teammate, who you realize has shifted in the night. He’s now spooning you, his arm around your waist and his face nuzzled against your neck.

A heat creeps into your cheeks as you hazily register the intimacy of the position you’re in. You carefully attempt to untangle yourself from him, but you quickly realize your arm is asleep, and you curse to yourself as the uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation prickle your nerves.

You wiggle your arm, the blood flow slowly returning, not noticing how your movement is making your ass bump against the man behind you.

Dick’s eyes flutter open, awakened by the soft swaying of your body as you struggle to get your arm functioning like normal. He mutters your name groggily, and you curse yourself for waking him.

"Sorry, Dick. I'm warm now, you can let go of me," You say softly.

In his half-asleep state, Dick exhales an audible groan, moving his arm so he can stretch out. You think you're free, but he quickly replaces it back over your waist before he pulls you snug against his body. "Could we stay like this? Feels nice." His voice is hoarse and gravely from sleep, which triggers a dangerous shift in your thoughts. His strong arms feel good wrapped around you. He smells good. You're comfortable, now that your arm is awake, and you notice something poking at your lower back when he pulls you even closer to him.

The heat you felt in your cheeks travels down to pool in your belly, and you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache you feel.

'Stop it. This won't end well. He's hot, but he's your friend. Just your friend...'

You capture your lip between your bottom teeth and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we can stay like this," You finally say, "But you need to tell your little friend to calm down."

"Hm?" Dick perks up at your comment, trying to make sense of what you said while his brain is still not fully awake.

"You're hard. It's distracting."

"Woah, hey. Who are you calling little? That's a low blow, you wouldn't even have any way of knowing that."

"I can feel you right now Dick. S'gross. We can cuddle if you want but I don't want your hard-on stabbing me while-"

"This feel little to you?" He interrupts, shifting you higher so he can grind his boner against your ass, with only his boxers and your silky sleep shorts separating you.

It doesn't. Now that he's doing it intentionally, you realize how much he's packing down there, which makes you stammer a little as you squirm against him, trying to quell the arousal building in your abdomen. "Jeez- okay, point taken. Now quit it," You chide, hoping you sound firm.

"Sure you want me to quit?" He's fully awake now. You can tell by the confidence in his tone when he taunts you, "Something tells me you're enjoying this. I've seen the way you've been looking at me."

His lips are merely an inch from your ear as he whispers to you, making your heart beat faster in your chest and your brain starts to panic. "Of course I've been looking at you differently. We're pretending to be a couple. We're undercover. It's called acting."

"Can I tell you a secret?" His hand starts to play with the hem of your shirt, rough hands barely brushing the small bit of exposed skin as the fabric bunches up on your waist.

"W-what?" You ask, briefly wondering if you're dreaming.

"Donna wasn't busy," He murmurs, running the tip of his nose up and down your neck slowly as he tries to entice you. "I wanted you here with me."

"That's a lie," You chide back without much thought. You know Dick and Donna are best friends, there's no way he would choose you over her for a mission like this, right?

Right?

He ignores your accusation like he didn't hear it. "You really want me to stop?" Dick presses his hand against your stomach, caressing your soft skin and nudging his nose against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over your neck and making you shiver. "Tell me to fuck off and I'll let you have the bed to yourself."

"I... I mean...y-you don't need to, I don't want... don't sleep on the floor, please."

"Because you like this? Don't you?" His hand sneaks further up your torso, until his fingertips brush against the underside of your breast. "Don't tell me these past few days haven't felt right to you. I barely feel like I've had to act."

"Are you kidding? We've been bickering every moment we're alone!" You argue back. You're grateful for the dark, which hides how wide your eyes are from how he's touching you.

"Don't mean about the mission. I meant you and me. Having you on my arm. Calling you mine. The way you kiss me- I wish you'd kiss me like that when we're alone, instead of fighting," He admits, tentatively grinding his hips into your ass as he speaks. "You looked so pretty in that dress, earlier. That color looks amazing on you."

This is a lot for you to process. Sure, Dick is attractive. You'd be stupid to deny it. But he's your friend, has been for a while. You work together, and you've tried to not let your mind go down that path, not wanting to mess up the opportunity of a lifetime, to be a hero and work alongside him and the other Titans. But when he talks about how right these past couple days have felt, you have a hard time denying it. Yeah, you were acting, but it did come easy. His smile is heart-warming. His touch feels safe. And having him wait on you hand and foot has made you feel pretty special, even if you were under the impression that it was all performative.

Dick pauses his movements when you take a while to respond to him, second-guessing himself. He says your name softly, before asking, "Am I making you uncomfortable? Do you want me to stop?"

The answer is no.

So why is it so hard to say out loud?

Nervous, Dick shifts away from you and retracts his hand, guiding you onto your back so he can see you properly. The look of uncertainty on him is rare. The man's confidence is nearly impenetrable, but now he's got a sinking feeling in his stomach, worried that he just crossed a line that you didn't want him to cross.

"Dick..." You mutter, shifting around to help him so you're face-to-face. His features are barely visible, illuminated only by the soft red glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. But you don't need the light to see him. His face is permanently etched into your mind, handsome and chiseled, your brain filling in the gaps left by the darkness.

You're running out of time. You can make out his expression fall, sense the change in energy each moment you leave him hanging. Deciding to take the future implications out of the picture, like how it will affect your dynamic on the team, how awkward this might make things in the future- you ignore all of that, and ask yourself, 'Do I want to sleep with him? Right Now? In this moment?'

The vigilante's confidence returns when you finally lean in to capture his mouth in a kiss. You bump your nose against his, and he chuckles, relieved as his hand finds your cheek to guide your mouth to his again.

The feeling is surreal, kissing him. You feel like you knew him pretty well before this trip. You know how he likes his tea. You know his favorite places, and understand his subtle, snarky humor. You're even familiar with his scent, after many missions and even more training sessions, physical contact is not anything new between the two of you.

His taste is new. His lips are foreign, but gentle, skilled, like he knows exactly what he's doing when his kisses you, relishing in the feeling, slow and sensual as his tongue slides across your bottom lip, teasing you until your part your lips and allow him deeper. Dick pulls you on top of him, relaxing on his back, his hands holding you by the waist, itching to trail lower and grip your plush ass that's been teasing him all night.

The needy almost-moan that escapes his throat as he exhales is new, too. You've heard him express pain and discomfort, you know what sounds he makes when he's hurt, recognize his brash grunts while fighting, able to judge how badly he's hurt by the sounds he makes. But the noises he's making now aren't like those. They seem more raw, more intense, and he's doing a good job of making you swoon.

His taste, his noises, being the object of his desire, this is all new territory. The surreal feeling doesn't go away, even as his kisses get more intense and his hands start to wander. You're straddling him, forearms resting against his chest while you two make out. He laps at your mouth, tongue against yours, encouraged by every little sigh and broken whimper that you make.

You're grateful for the darkness. It helps quell your insecurities, and you push the doubts about your decision far away. With your hands against his bare chest, you're able to feel his heart beat, strong and even, solidifying the feeling of closeness between you.

"You're so soft," He whispers between greedy kisses. His fingertips caress the exposed skin of your lower back, becoming increasingly more annoyed by the clothing that's keeping your skin from him.

A brief feeling of guilt plagues your mind, knowing your skin is extra soft because of the long shower you took earlier, with the goal of annoying him. Who knew that taking the time to exfoliate and use lotion would end up doing the opposite, spurring him on, making your skin that much more enticing.

You sink your hips down, rubbing yourself against the tent in his boxers. "You're so hard." You say back to him. You meant to sound teasing, but his all-encompassing kisses have you breathless and panting.

Dick chuckles at you, also breathless, finally letting his hands grip the silky material of your sleep shorts, squeezing and massaging your ass. You push yourself up a bit to look down at him. The red numbers of the alarm clock cast an eerie glow over the side of his face, the other half dark in shadow. But you still detect the obvious lust in his gaze. He squeezes you, grabby hands slipping under your shorts to feel you better and force your clothed cunt to grind against his throbbing erection.

"You have no idea how hot you are," He blurts out, bucking his hips up to drive the point home. "You in that dress this morning, fuck, if you were mine for real... I wouldn't have let you leave this room before fucking you senseless in it."

His low, urgent tone, gravely and strained, sends a jolt of heat to your cunt, your arousal soaking through your underwear. Hearing him, Dick Grayson, NIghtwing, say such things about you? And you can tell he means it. He's a good liar, but you know him well enough by know to tell he's being sincere. You open your mouth, unsure what to say, but he's already rambling on, hands traveling from your ass back up to your waist, easing your shirt up and over your head, careful not to mess up your hair.

"The neckline is what did it, I think," he continues. His pupils dilate when he drinks you in, straining to see as much of you as possible. You're sitting up now, shuddering when his warm hands cup your breasts, handling them like you're made of glass. "I couldn't stop staring. I wasn't the only one, either."

"Dick-"

"I've been thinking about this ever since. All evening. Been going crazy." His thumbs brush over your nipples, which are already hard from the arousal you feel building inside. "Got me all worked up. Like a teenager with a crush."

You bring your hands to his, resting over them as he fondles your chest. The gentle squeeze you offer encourages him to keep going, moving your hips to rub against him, searching for some friction to satisfy your need.

"I doubt the dress did all that," You challenge.

"Yet here we are."

"You pleased with yourself?" You yelp as soon as the question leaves your mouth. Dick chose that moment to pinch your hardened buds between his thumb and pointer fingers, squeezing and toying with them, moving his hips against you when your grinding falters.

"Yeah, I am."

Dick removes his hands from your chest to pull you flush against him, grabbing your left leg to help flip you over so you're on your back, settling on his knees between your legs. This shift in control has your mind racing, still wondering if this is all just a dream. If it is, you aren't ready to wake up.

Dick's sitting straight up, smirking down at you, reaching for your ankle. He guides your leg up so your foot is next to his head, and places a slow, wet kiss against your ankle bone.

"Let's get these off of you." He takes your other leg, lifting it in the same manner, so he's able to remove your shorts. You raise your hips to help, allowing him to take your remaining clothes off and toss them to the other end of the bed. He kisses the same spot on your other ankle and rests your legs on either side of his head while his strong hands caress your calves. It almost feels like he's showing you a new martial arts technique, the way he moves and is so at ease manipulating your body. You're used to it, to humbling yourself around him and letting him share his skills, never too proud to learn from a friend and mentor. You swear you've actually been in a very similar position with him before, too, just with more clothing. And also, several spectators.

His warm, fervent kisses continue down towards your knee, slowly savoring every inch of skin he can reach, and adjusting his position once he cannot. Your chest rises and falls quickly in anticipation, nervous but excited to see this new side of him.

This isn't something you were expecting to happen this trip.

You stifle a needy moan when he reaches your inner thighs. Muscular body now flush against the bed, he licks at the sensitive skin there, just inches from your pussy that's dripping for him, aching for attention.

"H-Holy shit..." You curse, moving your hips to try and get his mouth closer to where you need him most. If him kissing your leg feels this sensuous, you're weak over the idea of having his mouth on your core.

Dick hums in satisfaction at how worked up you're getting. Peeling his lips away from the soft skin of your thigh, he purses his lips into a small 'o' to blow a breath over your slick, feverish skin.

You're mortified at the loud whine that departs your lips, shivering in both chill and embarrassment. Your legs tense, squeezing together reflexively around his head.

Dick mutters your name, cursing under his breath at your reaction. He carefully pries your legs apart again, holding them in place, kissing your inner thigh again.

"Huh. You liked that?"

"Please, Dick, you're teasing me."

You feel his lips curve into a smile against you, leaving your thigh and licking a slow, long stripe along your pussy, catching some of your slick on his tongue. Your breathing hitches, eyes closing again, moaning his name with your hands on either side of your head gripping the pillow.

The tip of his nose nudges against your clit before he kisses you there, the same way he was kissing your mouth a minute earlier. Slow at first, building up to using more tongue, testing different movements until he feels your legs quiver. The heat you felt before has grown to a roaring fire, your lower body sensitized from his attention and aching for more.

His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub over and over in a steady rhythm. It becomes harder and harder not to wiggle against him. He's still keeping you in place, but his grip isn't harsh, at least not until he finds just the right angle. Your hips jerk almost violently when he presses his skilled tongue harder against your core, your hands flying to his head to grip his hair. "Oh fuck... please... shit shit sh....." You tremble, words fading away to nothing while your teammate keeps eating your cunt like its his favorite dessert.

Muffled hums and moans are mingled with your sighs and gasps. His tongue dips down to lap languidly at your entrance. You feel painfully empty at this point, ignoring the bewilderment you feel deep down about how easily Dick has reduced you to a whining mess. Fingernails scratching his scalp, your inner muscles convulse and tense, nerves alive with every touch and heated kiss.

Dick is a curious guy. He always has been. It's what makes him such a good detective, and an even better hero. And right now? He's curious about you, making a mental note of what noises and gasps he can coax from you when he moves his tongue faster or slower. He experiments with quick, feather light licks to tease you, then uses more pressure, rubbing his tongue flat against your soft skin and moving in circles, noting your reactions to each technique. His saliva drips from his mouth to mix with your slick, which he greedily licks back up, no shame in his enthusiasm.

After several torturous minutes of him working you, he's got your legs quivering and your mind fuzzy, your pride long forgotten, unable to resist the urge to plead for more.

"Please?" You beg him, "I just want... fuck, please, Dick, I need it."

His hands grip you tight for a beat before he releases you. "I need you too, baby, fuck, feel how wet you are." You offer no resistance when his hand takes yours and places it between your legs. "Touch yourself, yeah... there you go... play with that pretty pussy for me, hm?" His deep voice vibrates in your head, sending a fresh rush of lust through your veins.

Pushing himself up, Dick reaches over you towards the bedside table to retrieve the goodie bag that the front desk was handing out for the couples retreat.

"Glad we can actually put this stuff to use," He mumbles, face better illuminated now that he's next to the alarm clock. He retrieves a condom and a single-use lube sample from the deep red gift bag, and you groan in embarrassment again.

"Shhh, hey, just keep touching yourself. It's fine, unless you brought other condoms?" He asks, already guessing your answer.

"Why would I bring condoms? I wasn't expecting this to happen," You reply, watching him rip the foil wrapper.

"Huh. Me either." He slips his boxers down his thighs, letting his cock spring free. You squint, trying to see the outline of his junk in the dark. He looks big. Big enough that when he slides the rubber over his shaft, it only makes it about 3/4th of the way down.

"It's kind of tight," He informs you, now opening up the lube sample and working the viscous liquid over himself. "But I'm pretty good about making big things fit in tight spaces."

The grin on your face is instant, cringing at his joke and shaking your head. "Would you shut up and fuck me, already?"

"Gods, yes."

His reply sounds pained, filled with longing, enough that you briefly question how long he's wanted this. You want to ask, but Dick is a man of his word, and before you can utter your question out loud, his hands are pressing your legs against your chest, knees over his shoulders, positioning you so he can slap his heavy cock against your clit.

Rubbing his tip against your wet folds of skin, you angle your hips a little better and guide him inside. Your slick heat swallows him up greedily, his cock bottoming out in one swift thrust.

You cry out at the sudden sting of him stretching your aching cunt. Hands gripping the sheets to ground yourself, your eyes water and your mouth hangs open, the feeling enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than him and how he's making you feel.

He offers a brief kiss to your whimpering lips, "Shhhh, I know, babe, I know, feels good... fuck... feels too good.”

Nestling closer to you, Dick settles so he has access to your neck. His hips are still, giving your body time to adjust from the abrupt intrusion. His warm breath tickles your ear between the sweet love pecks he presses into your skin. “You know, if we really wanna sell ourselves as a couple, maybe I should give you some hickies, mark up that pretty neck of yours.”

The muscles in the back of your legs burn from the stretch. The position you’re in doesn’t accommodate deep breathing, so your voice is weak when you warn him, “Can we not talk about work right now?”

“Right. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re pissed at me again.” He latches his lips onto your neck, withdrawing himself from you halfway before easing back in, slower this time, pausing again once he's fully buried.

"H-h-how... mm...d-dude, you're huge," You gasp, feeling his tip kiss your cervix, pushing your body to its limit.

Dick tenses, his solid body going rigid. His next statement seem imbued with an undertone of challenge, "Don't call me dude while I'm inside of you."

"Sorry I- shiiiit...." you lose your words when he starts moving again, pumping into you slowly, rolling his hips into yours while he sucks on your neck, leaving your skin damp with his saliva. Finding them again takes a minute. "M'sorry I didn't c-come up with a list... I mean, why would I be prompted...to... write out the things that are... are off limits when we're fucking?"

The words are forgotten as soon as you say it. His memorizing pace has you feeling alive with warm tingles, concentrated most where your bodies meet. You clench down on his thick cock, more arousal dripping out around him. You can feel your body release more wetness again, doing its best to accept what's being given as his soft raven hair tickles your cheek.

"We can make that list together, babe." His promise is murmured against your throat, "Maybe during our one-on-one counseling session tomorrow with the alleged con artist himself."

"W-wh...huh? What, oh... mmmm.... fuck, Dick.... what list?" You flex your feet and curl your toes, babbling and whimpering at him. You can't move much with how he's pinning you, completely at his mercy. Even though you've never slept together before now, you have complete trust in him, having put your life in his hands more times than you can count. Nightwing has never failed you as a teammate. And Dick certainly has never failed you as a friend. So even now, as he ruts himself into you with purpose, pushing your body to its brink, leaving dark bruises over your neck, you know he doesn't plan to fail you as a lover. If only for one night.

The speculation on whether this heated exchange will be a one-time thing or the start of something more is a worry for later on, not for right now. Right now, this god-like man is fucking himself into you harder and deeper, being much less gentle than how he handled you earlier.

"Feels s'good, tight little pussy is squeezing me, bet you haven't been fucked this good before," He rasps, giving your tender neck a break and resting his forehead against yours while he flexes and undulates, putting his abs, back, entire body into it, hitting spots deep inside of you that you didn't think were even there.

Your cries of pleasure get louder as the minutes pass. Keeping his pace steady, Dick moves his hand over your mouth for the second time this evening to muffle your desperate please for release.. "Shhhh... remember what I said," He taunts, "We can't blow our cover. People come to retreats like this because their marriage is failing. No one here is having sex as good as this."

If you were more aware, you'd point out to him that he just went against his whole justification for giving you love marks. But he might as well be speaking an alien language. The deep timbre of his words do, however, send a chill down your spine, pushing you over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you hard.

Your eyes water even more and blur your already limited vision. Convulsing under the weight of him, you gasp against his palm, tasting yourself, eyes wide in the glow of the dim red light.

"That's it.... shii-iii-iit..." His body stills, and he closes his eyes, struggling desperately to stay off his own orgasm. You welcome the break, pleasure still pulsing in your core, flexing and wiggling your legs to alleviate the stiffness from the prolonged time in such an intense position you aren't used to.

Dick moans your name and shudders, "I need more."

"M-more?" You stutter, intoxicated from the post-orgasm haze.

Pushing himself up and off of you, he sits back on his knees again, cock slipping from your swollen cunt. Dick graciously lowers your legs, guiding them around his waist before leaning over you again, carefully slipping his arms under yours against your back to cradle you closer to him. You cling to him with trembling limbs, letting him move you how he sees fit.

"What, you think I was going to stop at one?" He whispers to you, low and eager. He slips his length back inside of you, the lewd squelching noise sounding absolutely filthy, your thighs damp from his sweat and your fluids. "I'm not wasting this opportunity to show you a good time.'"

Your pussy is so sensitive now, every thrust of his hips earning a small pant from you, feeling him fill you up, over and over, making room for himself inside your body with each tantalizing rut of his hips.

You mumble something incoherent, and Dick chuckles, proud to have you in such a state. "What's that, babe? I'm the best you've ever had?" He kisses your forehead, fucking you a little faster, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with each rut.

"This is... just to keep up appearances, right?" You ask, unsure if you want him to agree or not.

Probably not.

Definitely not.

"Of course." Dick promises, knowing full well that he will not be satisfied until he has you creaming around his cock like this every night. Not now. Not after tonight. Being here with you has opened his eyes, and helped him reflect on why he got so intensely jealous when you were turning heads earlier. "It's all for appearances, babe."

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#[purple-obsidian]#smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #nightwing x you #dc smut #one bed trope #and they were teammates

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mint-8 · 4 months

Text

Platonic Yandere Grandparent x GN! Reader

- Yandere Grandparent whose life was monochrome and seamlessly endless. Waking up every day for the same routine, work, eat and sleep. Some socializing here and there and spending time with their family, but not feeling any sort of true happiness or enjoyment from it.

- Yandere Grandparent who simply followed what school, their parents and peers told them. Study, get a good job, marry and have a child or two.

- Yandere Grandparent who might not have been the best parental figure to their own kids, perhaps abusive? Negligent? Absent? What about their spouse? Perhaps leaving them all the housework, childcare or money making?

- They weren’t even that interested when their children married. Not really caring at that point of their lives either, just waiting for the inevitable death to come to them and, perhaps then, it would be more entertaining.

- Yandere Grandparent whose life was finally given color and light the moment their eyes landed on you, their first grandchild. They weren’t excited when they got the news, just curious. What a pay off it was to endure the nagging of their spouse and the annoying traffic to find little, chubby adorable you in their offspring’s arms.

- Yandere Grandparent who truly smiles for the first time when your eyes open and you smile at them! Their eyes watering a bit when they get to hold you for the first time, and refusing to let go when you hold one of their fingers in your soft baby hand.

- Yandere Grandparent who felt love for the first time ever and who promised that they’ll look after you, in this life and the many new ones to come.

- Yandere Grandparent who visits practically every day to visit their little niece and spoil them with affections. From treats to toys to cute clothes, they would happily spent all their savings to give you a smile.

- Yandere Grandparent who insists to their children to continue to go out for some dates with their partner! You two are so young after all! And don’t you worry about their little niece, for Yandere Grandparent will happily look after them! It doesn’t matter what their own spouse says, their opinion is irrelevant to them and they will have no problem ignoring them if necessary.

- Yandere Grandparent who secretly wishes their kids turn out to be abusive so they can be your legal guardian and keep you all for themselves! Oh, and their spouse too, of course. As long as they aren’t too much of a pain.

- Yandere Grandparent who is so, so, so happy that whatever higher deity out there gifted them a living proof that happiness is real and that they can actually love like a normal person. Well, their definition of normal, of course.

- Yandere Grandparent who is overbearing and it’s pretty much involved in every single thing you do. They attend every recital, show, competition and event that you might be involved in! Always bringing their special camera for their special album of memories of you and with your favorite drinks and snacks on their bag as a little treat.

- Yandere Grandparent who offers a heavy amount of financial support to your parents so that you can go to the best schools or have the best tutors available. They don’t want you to suffer in this horrible world like they did! So let Gran-Gran decide the best and easiest path of success for you! They know what they are doing.

- Yandere Grandparent who tells you so many stories about their lives and gives you the best advice they can offer, as well as 100% support in whatever thing you want to do or are interested in! That includes siding with you in every possible argument between you and your parents.

- Yandere Grandparent who knows that they will definitely die before you, but are willing to prolong that due date the most they can. And who will leave their entire inheritance to you, so you’ll have a happier life.

- Yandere Grandparent who, at their last moments, smiles at you while holding your hand and muttering a final “I love you, sweetie…” before peacefully dying.

- Yandere Grandparent whose soul will continue to protect you even in the afterlife, for even death itself will never be able to break the bond of love they always had for their adorable niece.

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere grandparent #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere headcanons #yandere writing #my writing

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neiptune · 4 months

Text

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly.

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reder #romcomcollab

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coldfanbou · 7 months

Text

More Than A Bath

I mixed things up a little with a soapland theme. I hope y'all enjoy

Length 2.7K

Nako x Mreader X Kazuha

You look up at the sign and take a deep breath. There were murmurs that she worked here, but you didn’t think it was true. You click your phone and check the time: 10 pm. The shop is supposed to be open now. You walk up to the door and step inside. The front room was decorated in such a way that it looked like a casino. To your left was a man behind the counter wiping it down. “Welcome! I haven’t seen your face before. Is it your first time here?”

You nod your head, “It is.”

“Welcome to the Royal Flush. We offer great relaxation for men after a long day's work. We have a few options here, starting at thirty minutes and going up to two hours. That said, you can extend it up to another two hours.” The man motions to a blank board behind him before turning around. “My apologies; I forgot to turn this thing on. Just a moment.” He goes under his desk, flicking a button, causing the screen to light up with pictures of women on playing cards. You couldn’t see anyone who looked like her, though. He motions to the screen. “As you can see, we have many ladies available to help you. You can choose any one of them for your time here. Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can play the roulette.”

“What’s the roulette?”

“I’m glad you asked, sir. The roulette is a wheel that gives you the chance to get two women for the price of one and even enables some that are usually reserved for special customers. The price to play is a little higher than choosing from the board, but if you hit the jackpot, you get two women for four hours. At worst, you’re paying a little more for our basic thirty-minute service, but at best, you’ll have the best night of your life. All you have to do is predict the space the ball will land in. What would you like, sir?”

You consider the chance the rumors were true, and she was just for special customers. “I choose the roulette.” After taking your money, the man smiles and asks you for a number. You choose the number she had ended up with on the show, six. The screen behind the man changes to a roulette wheel, and he begins the game. The ball on-screen moves around the roulette wheel, and while you don’t have high hopes for getting it right, you hope you’ll at least get something good.

As the ball begins to slow down, you see it coming up on your number. Time slows down as the ball approaches the number six spot and swings past it one more time before coming around again. The ball loses momentum as it hits one of the ball deflectors, and miraculously, it plops into the six slot. The man smiles at you, “How rare.” He says, a slight amusement in his voice. “Congratulations, sir, you’ve hit the jackpot. You’ll be allowed to choose two women to help you relax and choose from our special menu. That being said, not everyone is in, so you’ll have limited choices.” The screen behind the man changes again to show different women than before, and immediately, you spot her. Nako was working here. You continue to look at the boar, seeing other idols on it. Some of them greyed out to show they were unavailable.

“How do you get them to come when they’re so busy with other activities?”

“They need to relax too. All things considered, they come here pretty often. So who would you like?” You look back at the board, seeing other Japanese idols like Twice’s J-line and members of Le Sserafim.

“I’d like Nako and Kazuha.”

“Great choices. Here is your room number. They’ll be there in a moment. You may take the elevator to the top floor.” You give the man a nod and head to your room. Thoughts run through your mind. You never expected to find out that idols would work at some place like this. You hadn’t even considered what you would do now that you were faced with meeting Nako and Kazuha.

When you get to your room, you tap the card the man gave you and step inside. It was a fully furnished apartment on the inside. You walk further in, seeing the view from your floor. You could see block after block of the city from your room. Wanting to look at the other rooms, you first come across the bathroom; poking your head inside, you see the usual inflatable you had seen in porn and notice the giant bath behind it. The floor was all tile, with a drain in the corner of the room. You check the other side of your room, seeing it was just a bedroom. Checking through the dressers, you notice sex toys and condoms, among other things.

You hear a small beep from the front and head back to the living room to see Nako and Kazuha standing there. What’s immediately noticeable is their lack of clothing. Both are wearing just their bra and panties, only after you notice their hair being up. You gulp, nervous and unable to say a word. They give you a small smile and wave, obviously used to being seen in their state. Nako takes the lead, walking up to you and wrapping her around your back. “Take good care of us.” She says, her head on your chest. She shines a smile your way before letting you go.

Kazuha pats the short woman’s bottom, “Would you like to get started, sir?”

“I would.”

“This way, then.” Kazuha grabs your arm, pressing it against her modest breasts as she leads you to the bath. Nako grabs your other arm. Kazuha turns the water on for the bath, and the pair begin to strip you down, working quickly.

“Oh, look at this.” Nako teases as she pulls down your pants. Your bulge was obvious to everyone. She runs her small hands along it before kneeling and rubbing her face against it. “Ah, it’s been so long. Kazuha, aren’t you excited?” She says, looking at the younger woman. She grabs Kazuha’s hand, placing it on your crotch. “It’s big, huh?” Kazuha’s cheeks turn red, and she looks away from you, embarrassed. “Let’s get these off.” Nako tugs at your underwear until it finally comes off, your cock smacking her forehead. She’s stunned for a second but quickly laughs it off. Her small hand struggles to wrap itself around your shaft. “You are big!” She exclaims with a huge smile on her face. You groan as she strokes your shaft. While Nako plays with your cock, Kazuha takes off the little clothing she has, unhooking her bra and tossing it near the door before stepping out of her panties. Your attention quickly returns to Nako as you feel her tongue running back and forth over your cock.

“Ah, Nako.” You moan, feeling your knees get weak from the sudden pleasure. She giggles before continuing.

“We should get you in the bath,” Kazuha says as she strips Nako of her bra. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Nako?” Nako has a slight frown on her face but agrees, letting you go to remove her panties. Kazuha leads you into the tub, stepping in to test the water. The tub was wide enough to comfortably fit the three of you, with Nako on one side and Kazuha on the other. The shorter woman couldn’t seem to keep her hands off you. She reached for your cock, stroking it slowly as she pressed her tits into your arm. Kazuha sees what Nako is doing and joins in, turning onto her side and cupping your balls as she drags her nipples along your arm. You’re eyes are glued to Nako as she steadily moves her hand along your shaft. She plants her lips on yours and speeds up. You grunt in response, struggling to do much else. Your hand wraps around Nako, squeezing her tit and making her moan. Her devilish smile grows as her grip on your shaft tightens. Kazuha begins to whisper into your ear as you focus on Nako. “You’ve got Nako wrapped around your finger. Did you know she’s on birth control? You can cum inside her all you’d like.” Kazuha’s sensual voice continues, “I’m on birth control too. I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a few creampies either.”

Your cock begins to twitch in Nako’s hand. “Don’t cum so quickly. We’re just getting started. Kazuha and I still need to wash your body. Maybe we should use the mat. You’d like that, right? It would mean we get to use our entire body.” You nod along and get out of the bath with Nako and Kazuha. They place you on the inflatable mat. Nako grinds on your leg, lightly moaning as she stares at your cock. Kazuha had gathered water and soap to clean your body before seeing Nako enjoying herself. She huffs and puts everything on the floor before getting behind the petite woman.

“Nako, you’re forgetting your job. We’re supposed to be making the customer feel good.” She says, grabbing Nako’s small breasts and squeezing them. The short woman throws her head back and moans.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Nako asks as she grinds on your leg. “I just need a little release.”

“Nako, you’re being a slut in front of our customer,” Kazuha responds, digging her fingers into Nako’s skin.

“I’m a slut. I’m a slut,” Nako cries. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” She breaks free from Kazuha’s grip and moves up to your crotch, rocking against your cock. Nako quickly raises herself and slams herself onto your cock. You fill the room with moans as you cum as soon as you’re buried inside Nako. You’re not the only one, though, as Nako cums with you. Feeling your warm cum flood into her cunt, Nako slowly grinds against you as she moans. Nako moves her fingers along her clit, rubbing it in small circles. “Ah, so full. I feel so hot, Kazuha.” You feel Nako’s cunt milking your cock. She was tight, her walls squeezing you with a lot of force. Your eyes are glued to Nako, watching as she pleasures herself. You don’t notice Kazuha fingering herself as she watches Nako. She’s groping herself and pushing her fingers deeper into her cunt as Nako begins to move again. Nako leaves just the head inside before swallowing your cock in one movement. You stifle your moan while Nako lets hers fill the room. “You’re so big. Look here.” Nako says, pointing at a bulge. She presses on it; you grunt, realizing the bulge was because of you. Nako begins bouncing on your cock, moving at a steady pace as she gets used to your size. She holds your thighs and throws her head back as she moans, noticing Kazuha standing there.

“Come on, Kazuha, join us. You’ll be in heaven.” Nako says, humming in bliss as she slams herself down, moving her hips to please both of you. Kazuha gets beside you, taking one of your hands and moving it toward her now aching cunt. “No, Kazuha ride him.” Nako says as she continues to use you. Kazuha looks at you, her face bright red, before nodding. She silently positions herself over your face, trying to lower herself gently. She was taking a little too long for you, and you decided to pull her down. Your tongue pushes past her wet lips, diving inside her. You felt Kazuha squirm on top of you; she placed her hands on your chest as she let a river of moans flow out from her. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Just wait until this is inside you.” Nako tells her coworker as she rubs the bulge. Kazuha's breathing quickens as she feels your tongue lapping at her walls. She struggles to keep herself up. Nako sees her friend struggling and lifts Kazuha’s head before kissing her. “I love seeing you like this.” Nako seems almost drunk on the pleasure she’s receiving; she plays with Kazuha’s tit, attaching herself to her nipple and swirling her tongue around it.

You dig your hands into Kazuha’s waist, keeping her in place. She began to grind against your face, the pleasure making her go crazy. The pleasure from you and Nako was pushing her toward the edge. She started to whimper as she closed in on her climax. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to cum yet.” She whined as she came. Kazuha’s body twitched as she came, her body rocking uncontrollably. Nako smiled, loving the sight of Kazuha cumming on your face. You lap up her sweet nectar, making the younger woman shiver before she falls to the side.

“Can you give me a taste?” Nako asks as she leans in. You were more than willing to share, pushing your tongue into her mouth. You sat up and grabbed Nako’s waist. You held her for a moment before moving her up and down your shaft. She began to groan as you took control of her. You rammed every inch into Nako’s small body, enjoying as her cries of pleasure came more often and eventually turned into whines. “I’m going to cum. I’m- I’m cumming!” Nako screamed as you continued to use her. Your cock began to twitch inside her cunt, and you told her to get ready for another creampie. “F-fuck, do it cum in me,” Nako whined as you impaled her on your shaft and shot your cum into her. Nako’s walls clamped down around your cock, rubbing the head and making you want to go deeper. Your cum flooded Nako’s pussy, leaking out of her before you even pulled out. You take a good look at Nako, the blissful expression on her face, the drool running down her cheek as her mind goes.

Nako collapses on you, her cunt still squeezing your cock long after your orgasm ended. You lift her off and turn to Kazuha. She was face down on the floor, still recovering. Your eyes move down her smooth back until you notice her shapely bottom. You get behind her and stroke your cock, getting yourself ready for another round.

With your other hand, you grab Kazuha’s waist and lift her ass. You press your cock against her entrance and slowly push yourself inside the young woman. “Ah, you're stretching my pussy,” She groans weakly. Kazuha manages to get her arms under herself and push her face off the floor. She looks over her shoulder to see you pushing yourself inside. Kazuha’s walls welcomed you, snuggly wrapping around your cock as you rested inside her. You were close to cumming, sensitive from your last orgasm. Still, you pushed onward, beginning to thrust into the young woman, your pace picking up. You have to dig your fingers into Kazuha’s waist to keep her from moving. As you’re pounding away at her body, you can’t help but look at Kazuha’s beautiful ass; you pull back your hand and slam it into her soft ass. She yelps from the hit. A handprint begins to form because of the force used, but Kazuha begs you to do it again.

You drive your hand into her ass again. She moans this time, loving the pain. Nako comes around, lying on the inflatable mattress and looking at Kazuha. Her fingers playing with her clit as she watches. You’re getting turned on by having Nako watch you and begin to move faster, slamming yourself into Kazuha without a second thought. The young woman’s moans become louder, and her walls clamp down around your cock. You were both nearing your climax. You couldn’t hold it any longer and buried yourself inside Kazuha, filling her womb with your cum. Your orgasm triggered hers. As soon as she felt your thick cum fill her, Kazuha arced her back and came on your cock. You could hear Nako teasing Kazuha, but her words were muddled as you focused in on the image of Kazuha’s back.

When you start to regain yourself, you hear Nako’s voice. “We still have three hours, Kazuha. How are you going to last that long?” Nako pinched the younger woman’s cheeks. “Are you going to make me take him the whole time? I don’t mind, but you have to be professional.” Nako turns her attention to you. “Why don’t we head for the bedroom? We can take Kazuha with us. She loves watching.” You nod your head, ready to spend more time with Nako.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #izone smut #le sserafim smut #yabuki nako smut #kazuha smut

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redroomreflections · 2 months

Text

Out of Office

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: R gets a special surprise to her office

The Loud House Universe (this is not an au of the au. This is real life =))

W/c:3.8k

Play this when you read it https://open.spotify.com/track/4isk4UYRcmslphcTq61xUg?si=1vKGqQ_uQ2-Go9CEdnRq_g

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI

One of the perks of being the Assistant District Attorney of New York City is having your own corner office. The large windows offer a stunning looking of the bustling skyline of New York City. Of course the perks go beyond just the offices. There’s the satisfaction of tackling high-profile cases, the thrill of courtroom victories, and the respect that comes with the title. Today, you’re enjoying one of those benefits that’s seeming to be more like a con.

This meeting was boring to say the least. The topic had been on a rise of criminal activity in the area and how to prevent it. Normally, you would have been all ears. However, this meeting was anything but normal. It was the first meeting after the holidays and your coworkers were still in the post-Christmas mood.

The usual professional atmosphere was gone.

You sit in a chair across from the head of the long table, listening as best you can to the discussion.

"How about we continue this tomorrow?" Alex Cabot, your DA and overhead suggested. "Y/n? Any objection to that?"

You look up in surprise, wondering if you had missed something.

"No, not at all."

Alex smiles at you and then at the other two women.

"I think that's a good idea." You agree. "I'll get back to you with my thoughts on the Coleman case."

The three other women begin packing up their bags and heading out.

"Thanks for the meeting." You say as you get up and gather your things. "It was very informative."

Alex chuckles, clearly seeing right through your fib. "You used to be a much better liar than that."

"I'm just trying to be polite." You smile. "After all, we are in a room full of lawyers."

Alex laughs. "That we are. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow."

You leave the room, feeling like you could breathe again. You head to your office and stop by your assistant's desk in order to check mail and messages. The meeting was supposed to be thirty minutes and lasted more than an hour. You were more than tired. You were ready for the day to be over.

"Hey Y/n, a message came in for you earlier." Your assistant, Haley says. "You still need to review the police report for Jones and Jones. Also, an interview with Cass Daniels."

You sigh and look down at the file you're holding.

"Great, I'm swamped. Is the file with the Jones's case available?"

Haley nods and hands you a brown folder.

"Anything else I can help with?"

You shake your head and smile. "Unfortunately, not this time around."

"Hey, y/l/n, “ Your colleague Doug Stone greets. He does a little jog over to the desk.

"Hi, Doug, " You return. "Just the man I was looking for."

He looks confused. "Really?"

You hand him the file. "I just spoke with Alex. She says she wants you to handle the Jones case."

"But what about the-"

"I already reviewed it and made notes." You interrupt. "Just make sure to check out the new witnesses and that'll be it."

"Okay, so no problem." Doug nods, looking unsure. "Anything else I can do?"

You smile and shake your head. "Actually," You smirk. Just to get under his skin.

"Oh no," Doug shakes his head.

"I need you to get me a copy of the police report." You finish.

"You have one."

You shrug. "I think it would be a good idea to double check."

Doug rolls his eyes. "You know I came over here to see if you could ask the misses to go ahead and make some of that special eggnog she made over the holidays. Special order just for me."

You move to rebuttal when you hear a familiar husky voice behind you. You turn to see your wife standing there with that familiar smirk on her face. Natasha stepped further into the floor, her presence commanding attention. She had chosen a slightly floral midi dress that hugged her curves, the soft fabric contrasting with her typical demeanor. With her red hair pulled back and her eyes sharp and observant, she exuded a mix of elegance and strength.

"You can ask me yourself," Natasha grinned. She stepped closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist. You landed a quick kiss to her head before looking over at Haley with questioning eyes. She's supposed to remind you if something important like your wife visiting.

"Sorry," She apologizes, quickly. "I was just about to tell you."

"It's okay, Haley," You wave off, smiling. "What brings you by, baby?"

"Can a girl come visit her wife in her office? I'm sure Tammy comes to see you all the time right, Doug?" Natasha tilts her head.

"Uhh..um, yes," Doug stumbles over his words.

Natasha gives him a smile. "Good." She looks up at you. "So, how's your day, babe? I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"Not at all," You answer.

"Actually, y/l/n has some errands to run," Doug cuts in.

"And Doug has a case to take over," You reply. Natasha looks suspiciously between the two of you.

"We're not going to have a problem, are we?" She asks.

"Of course not." Doug assures.

Natasha nods and smiles. "I'd hate to have to break up this lover's quarrel you two are having. But I would like to spend some time with you before your lunch is over." By the look in her eyes, you know exactly why she's come to your office so unexpectedly.

"Not a problem," You nod.

"I'm free for the rest of the day," Doug says. You send him a glare. "I'll just get a start on those files." He adds before making himself scarce.

You give him a thumbs up. "Perfect. Haley, cancel my meetings for the next hour."

"Sure thing,"

You take Natasha's hand and lead her down the hallway towards your office.

"I love it when you get bossy," Natasha whispers, biting her lip. You feel the blush creeping up your neck.

"That was nothing," You wave off. You walk before her into the office to clear up a few things on the couch. The last thing she needs is to see how messy you are at work. "Where's Luke and Paige?"

"I left them with my mom today," She says disinterestedly.

"Oh, that's cool then," You nod.

"Now do you want to hear about Luke's diapering schedule, or should we talk about other things?" She steps over to you. It's then you notice the heels she's wearing. Those sexy Manolo Blahnik pumps in a deep blue that accentuates all of her curves.

"I think I want to talk about whatever you want to talk about," You answer honestly. You place your hands on her hips and pull her close. She giggles, placing her hands on your chest.

"Good," She leans in for a quick peck. "You're in a good mood today."

"That's because you're here." You hum. "You taste good."

"Lemon and ginger," She smiles.

"That's what it was. You taste delicious." You lean in again and capture her lips in a deeper kiss. Your tongue glides over her lips, coaxing them open. "Mm, I think you should surprise me in the office every day."

"If only I could." Natasha sighs. "Your coworkers would get tired of me or become jealous of you."

"I don't care." You whisper against her lips. "I only care about what's happening right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha bites her lip.

You nod and reach around, smacking her ass. "That's what you're here for right? You couldn't wait for me to come home?"

"Something like that." She grins. She leans forward to kiss you again. This time as a distraction while she unbuttons your silk button down with her nimble fingers. Her lips are soft and warm against yours.

You pull away from the kiss and smirk. "We can't have sex in the office."

"That's a first." Natasha chuckles. "Why not?"

"I don't know if I'll want to stop after one round," You sigh when her hands find bare skin underneath your shirt.

"Hmm, we'll have to be quick then." Natasha murmurs, pressing her lips to your neck.

"I don't know," You groan when her teeth scrape across your pulse point. "You're quite loud."

"I guess you'll just have to keep me quiet," Natasha bites down on your neck. You let out a whimper, your body shivering.

"Damn it, Tasha," You growl.

She pulls back and flashes you a wide grin. "Do you think you can keep me quiet?"

"I don't know if I want you to be quiet," You open your eyes.

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha grins. She pulls your shirt down off of your shoulder, revealing your lacey black bra. She moves to do the same to the other side.

"Natasha," You warn.

"I'm just looking," She says as her eyes roam over your torso. "Admiring."

"Yeah, admiring is going to get us in trouble," You shake your head.

"Fine, fine," She steps back, taking her warmth and heat with her.

"Are you pouting?"

"I am," Natasha lowers her hands onto her hips. "You're denying me what I want."

"Come here," You offer a hand. She takes it and you lead her over to the couch. You sit down and pull her onto your lap. She settles her knees on either side of your hips and rests her hands on your shoulders. You begin rubbing her thighs, smoothing your hands across the smooth nylon of her leggings before you rip them. The sound drowning out the harsh breaths both of you are taking. You're so glad this office is at the corner and also doesn't have glass windows. Of course, she always gets what she wants.

"I thought you said we can't have sex."

"We're not," You murmur, your eyes focusing on the swell of her breast. "But we can do other things."

"Other things," Natasha nods. "Like what?"

"Just sit there and let me touch you," You say, pulling her down for a kiss. "You don't have any objection to that, do you?"

"None," Natasha says softly, her breath fanning over your lips. At the first press of your thumb against damp panties, Natasha lets out the sharpest squeak deep from the back of her throat.

"Told you that you would be loud."

"Shut up." She moans, her hips canting forward, chasing the contact. You give her another rub through the soaked material, her wetness seeping through. "Are you going to tease me?"

"Yes," You answer simply, kissing the exposed skin of her chest.

"Fuck, baby." Natasha groans.

"Shhh," You tsk, "Be a good girl and stay quiet for me."

"I want you inside," Natasha lowers her head to look you in your eyes. She reaches behind her back to unzip herself. She lifts her dress over her head and drops it onto the floor. She leans back over you and presses her chest to yours.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end well." You groan, your eyes focused on her soft and supple breasts.

"I don't think we're going to get caught."

"Maybe." You murmur.

"Y/n, are you listening?"

"Huh?" You snap out of your daze. It's then you feel another wave of arousal as she releases her hair from its ponytail. She leans back on her hands and gives you a smug smile.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Romanoff?"

"I'm listening," You swallow thickly. You can't help but take her in.

"So, how about it?"

You look at her confused. "How about what?"

"I knew you weren't listening," Natasha laughs.

"I was thinking about how gorgeous you are," You admit. "How sexy you are. All the things I want to do to you."

"Oh yeah?" She grins. "Like what?"

"Well," You start, running a finger across her cheek. "First, I would have you sit there and watch as I undress."

"I'm interested," She looks you over. You should probably take those pants off unless you want them to be ruined with her juices. Not that you would mind it that much.

"I would go slowly. I would leave on my heels and my bra."

"Your bra?" She arches a brow. "No, take off your bra."

"Are you going to be difficult, or can I finish?"

"I'm sorry, continue," She waves a hand.

"Anyway, I would leave my heels and bra on. Then I would lay back on the couch and spread my legs for you. I'd want you to use your mouth and fingers."

"Mmm," Natasha hums.

"I'd have you fuck me with your fingers until I came all over them." You whisper, tracing her lips. "Then I would do the same to you. Just how you like it."

"How many times would you make me come?"

"Until you can't take it anymore." You answer. "Then I would clean you up with my mouth. Would you like that?"

"Fuck, yes," Natasha moans, her hips bucking against yours.

"Are you turned on, Tasha?"

"I'm beyond that," She admits. "I've been thinking about this since this morning."

"Yeah? You couldn't wait to have my hands on you."

"No," She whines.

You tap her thighs, instructing her to lift up so that you can strip yourself of your clothes. You rush over to the office door, locking it to ensure you won't be disturbed.

"What are you doing?" Natasha calls.

"Just making sure no one comes in and sees you like this," You explain, stepping back over to her. "They can't see what's mine."

"Would you let them watch?" She dares to ask.

"No," You growl, pulling her into your arms.

"And here I thought the idea would turn you on." She teases, trailing a finger along your collarbone.

"It does," You answer truthfully.

"But," She raises her brow.

"It turns me on to know that they can't have you," You admit. "Only I can touch you and see you."

"Touching has been minimal," She raises a perfectly arched brow.

"You're right," You smirk.

"How about we fix that," She whispers.

You nod and sit back down, taking her with you. You help to slide her panties off, tossing them to the side, before you get an idea. You pull her over to your desk, her eyes following yours quizzically before you bend her over. Your hands rub against the expanse of her back. You can't take your eyes off her perked-up ass and pussy on display for you.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting an idea."

"For?"

"This," You say, sliding a finger inside of her. Her walls tighten around the intrusion, and you let out a low moan.

Natasha's back arches and she hisses. You know it's not a sound of pain but pleasure. She wasn't expecting you to do it but she for damn sure loves it.

"I knew you'd be turned on by this," You tell her. You pump your finger a few more times before adding another.

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Is this what you want, Tasha?” You slap her ass. "For me to fuck you like this. Have you dripping all over my desk?"

"Y/n," Natasha groans. "Stop teasing and give me what I want."

"What do you want, Natasha?" You question, curling your fingers. Twisting them as you thrust back into her.

"I want you to make me come."

"Not yet." You tell her. "I want to hear you."

"Baby," She whines, her hips rocking against the desk.

"What is it?"

"You're driving me crazy." She pants. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."

"I have some idea," You say cheekily as you watch your fingers, glistening with her slick, slide in and out of her with ease.

"Stop teasing and fuck me," She hisses.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Please, y/n." She moans. "I'm so wet for you."

"I know," You hum. You push her legs open a bit wider. "Stay still for me."

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You lean over and pepper her back with kisses. Her skin is so warm and soft. You wish you could take your time, but you're both already on borrowed time. You speed up then, using your hips to add the slightest bit of force behind your thrusts. You know she likes it, her body shivering beneath you.

"That's it," She coos.

You place a hand on her back and move your thumb to her clit. You begin rubbing it in slow, circular motions. Natasha turns her head against the cool surface of the desk, her nipples becoming hard pebbles against the wood.

"I love seeing you like this," You whisper. "Taking everything I have to give."

Natasha's only response is a deep whimper. Not good enough for you.

"You love taking my fingers," You taunt. "But not as much as I love giving them to you."

"Shit, y/n, fuck." Natasha's body begins trembling. Her breathing becomes uneven. Her pussy walls fluttering against your fingers.

"Are you going to come, Tasha?"

"Yes, fuck." She cries. "Make me come, baby."

"Fuck, I love it when you call me that." You groan. You add a third finger, pumping faster. Her body quakes as you hit the right spot. Her toes curl as her orgasm tears through her body. Her moans are unbridled now, and you reach forward to press a hand against her mouth. That seems to turn her on more. Her body shaking beneath yours. Her body jerking from the aftershocks.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm better than okay," She grins. "But if you don't fuck me again in the next five minutes, I'm leaving."

"Turn around," You instruct her. You help her on shaky legs to turn around and sit on your desk. This is going to be a bit more difficult to maneuver but you do. You drop to your knees and grab her thighs to pull her to the edge of the desk.

"I've need to taste you all day," You murmur to yourself.

"Baby," Natasha whimpers, her fingers resting atop your head. "I need you."

"You have me," You reply before swiping your tongue through her folds. She's so warm and delicious.

"Don't tease," She gasps, her legs trembling.

You look up at her from your place between her legs. Your eyes never leave hers as you wrap your lips around her clit, sucking.

"Just like that," She adds the gentlest bit of pressure for you to bob your head. The slurping noises for added effect have her head dropping down she can't handle it. "So close, baby. Don't stop."

"Never," You murmur against her. "I love this. Love eating you out."

"Y/n," She gasps, her hips lifting off the desk.

"Come for me, Natasha," You coax her.

She's so close to the edge, and she can't help it. She's helpless against the orgasm that rips through her body. She can barely hold herself up as you suck her through the orgasm, lapping up the juices spilling from her.

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You stand and kiss her, your tongue tangling with hers.

"Let me," She finally pulls back. She pulls you down to the floor before she pushes you onto your back. Rug burn be damned.

"Tasha," You gasp when she wastes no time in slipping two fingers inside of you.

"You're so wet," She groans. "I love you." She nuzzles your neck.

"I love you too." You murmur, reaching down to guide her thumb to your clit. "Harder."

Natasha's body covers yours. Her lips latch onto your neck. Her teeth scrape along the flesh. You know you're going to have a hickey there tomorrow. It doesn't matter. You're hers and she's yours.

"Tasha," You groan. "Please."

"Shh," She whispers, her other hand caressing your breast. She pinches your nipple, delighting in the shiver that runs through your body.

"Please," You beg her. "Make me come."

"Anything for you," Natasha smirks, curling her fingers. She thrusts harder. Faster.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." You warn her, your body tensing.

"I've got you," Natasha tells you. "I've got you, baby." She coos as you whimper pitifully.

"Don't stop," You beg. "Oh my god, don't stop."

"Never," She growls. "Come for me, y/n. I want you to soak my hand."

You cry out as you reach your peak. Your back arches off the carpet, and you ram yourself onto her fingers. You don't want to lose this feeling.

"Fuck, I can't," You sob.

"You can," She whispers, her breath fanning across your lips. "One more. Come on, baby."

"I can't," You sob. "Tasha, please."

"I've got you," Natasha promises.

Your body begins shaking as a second orgasm rips through your body. You're unable to form words as you're consumed by your desire. You don't even remember that you're at work and the possibility that if anyone were to come by your office, they could probably hear you.

"There you go," Natasha smiles, her eyes focused on you. "I'm right here, baby."

"Tasha," You whimper.

"Right here."

"Don't move," You pant.

Natasha uses her unoccupied hand to open the bottom drawer of your desk and take out a towel.

"What are you doing?" You ask her.

"I'm going to clean you up," She says, gently wiping your inner thighs.

"Thank you," You whisper.

"Always," She smiles.

"You're so good to me."

"You're pretty good to me," She winks, kissing the top of your head.

"What time is it?"

"Time for us to get the hell out of here." Natasha laughs.

"You're right," You sigh. "Can we go home?"

"I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza, put on a movie, and have dessert later."

"I think I could deal with that." You nod. "I can't walk just yet."

"I'll carry you," Natasha teases with a smug look.

"Shut up," You laugh, swatting her away. "You know you're a little cocky after we fuck."

"And you're cute."

"Stop," You groan.

"I don't want to," Natasha replies.

"What do you want?"

"You," She answers. "Always."

"I'll be yours forever."

"Forever," She repeats.

"We should go," You whisper.

"I'm ready when you are."

"Let's get out of here."

Coming out of the office would be a little awkward. You should probably open a window. Your cheeks heat up at the thought. It was some of the hottest sex you had with her, and you can't believe that it happened here.

"You look nervous," Natasha notes.

"I'm not," You say.

"Liar."

"Tasha, come on. Let's go home."

"Whatever you say," She grins, taking your hand in hers.

"You're annoying," You mutter.

"And yet, you still love me."

"Unfortunately," You grin.

"I heard that," She calls.

"I meant for you to hear it."

"Brat," She says affectionately.

You really do love her.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #minors dni #Spotify

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hotwaterandmilk · 1 month

Text

Grabbed the latest issue of Sho-Comi because Mahou Shoujo Dandelion has been making waves on Twitter in advance of its release and I had to see how it actually turned out.

Mizuho Kaeru seemed a tad overwhelmed on socials about just how much anticipation the series was receiving based on concept and characters alone, but Mizuho should honestly be proud of how well they've lined up trending tropes in Dandelion.

You've got the nasty-cute monster dude (Shade) who would do anything for his bright ray of sunshine (Tanpopo). Throw in the nostalgic magical girl element and it's not hard to see why both Japanese and English-speaking fans have been anticipating this first chapter. So, does it live up to the hype?

I'd veture that yes, Dandelion is worthy of the excitement that has been building around it. It was good as a lunchtime read on my phone and while I'll probably have to re-read it to get everything I want from it, my initial impression is a positive one.

I'm not a fan of grumpy/sunshine type stuff but Tanpopo's strengths as a character really helped me enjoy what was on offer here. You can see why the Special Magic Warrior Management Organisation was interested in her, she's got a good heart and she's got gumption, even if Shade is the one who continually helps break her fall.

The complication here is of course that Shade, while obliging of Tanpopo in his own way, is also monstrous. He plays into this when he wants to, menacing Tanpopo herself at one point because he's A VILLAIN OK?? (Sure buddy.) With Tanpopo becoming Dandelion, how will their dynamic change? Can this uneasy relationship develop further when our leads are technically on opposite sides of a battle with life-altering stakes, despite a potential unspoken desire to present a united front?

What I like about Mizuho's approach in this first chapter is that the world these characters live in is already tinted with grey and what should be a black & white / good vs. evil situation is far more complex than this right out of the gate. The "monster of the week" that shows up here is grotesque and violent, hardly the sanitised version you'd see in childhood cartoons. However, the magic warrior org is quite willing to lop heads (literally) when they have to, showing that they are not all sparkles and rainbows either. Tanpopo and Shade are very much walking into unknown territory here and I'm interested to see how Mizuho handles things in chapter two.

I just have to add that I absolutely loved this moment where Dandelion, newly transformed, performs her first magical action -- restoring the umbrella she'd used defensively as Tanpopo. So much about her character expressed in this simple yet powerful action. LOVED ITTTTTT.

If the hype remains then I can see this one turning out to be a solid little series. There's definite potential here in both the characters and scenario. I highly recommend grabbing the magazine issue and supporting any other official releases that become available if you can. Mizuho is also happy for people to produce fan art, so maybe draw pic or share a tweet/post/etc. about it if you don't have the money to invest and help keep that hype train moving this way instead!

#mahou shoujo dandelion #magical girl dandelion #魔法少女ダンデライオン #mahou shoujo dandelion spoilers #magical girl dandelion spoilers #spoilers #manga spoilers #mizuho kaeru #kaeru mizuho #magical girl #magical girl manga #sho-comi #ramblings #random manga i recommend #sorry can't word good #writing for a huge work project today and my brain is fried #but yes check this series out!

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 6 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden.

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay.

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly.

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice.

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break?

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.” You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.”

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back.

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

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4m1rz · 11 months

Text

Wild Halloween

Aespa Giselle X Male Reader

Tags: Alley sex, public(-ish) sex, clothed sex, creampie

P/S 1: Special thanks to @torotauri21 and @russett-pots for helping me proofreading this

Ah yes, it's Halloween. The season where all kids wear costumes while getting candies around the neighbourhood. It's also the season when most places throw parties where the participants attend the party while wearing any costumes that they prefer.

Things appear similarly with Kwangya University as the university dean announced the university's annual Halloween party on Halloween night. Everyone in the university is very excited to join the party, except for Ong Sungho.

Ong Sungho is the nerdiest and quietest student in Kwangya University. Still, he did have some friends in the university, but only who's in his circle of friendship. One thing that everyone knows about him is that he DESPISES parties. He hates the ambience of the party and he is too shy to interact with other people who aren't very close to him. Even if his friends ask him to join, he persistently says that he won't come to the party.

However, this time, he has no choice but to come to this year's Halloween party. The reason is, his girlfriend persuades him to go and she also teasingly threatens him that if he doesn't go to the party, he won't get any affection from her. Until now, he remembers the threat that his girlfriend gives to him even though it's just a teasing threat.

Surprisingly, this quiet boy is able to get a girlfriend despite being shy to interact with anyone who isn't close with him. What is even more surprising is that his girlfriend is the most popular girl in the university, Aeri Uchinaga or commonly known around the university as Giselle.

Well, how exactly is this quiet nerd boy able to get the most popular girl in the university as his girlfriend? It turns out that both of them are actually childhood friends that are able to study at the same educational faculty till university. He and Giselle would be considered inseparable because they would do anything together.

Well technically, she's the one who is always close with him. She even joked to him that if he still didn't have a girlfriend, she would offer herself to become his girlfriend. Who knows that her joking comes to reality when they both become a couple for real.

However, compared to Sungho, Giselle is very out going which means she makes friends very easily. Plus, she is adored by the boys and girls in the university due to her beauty. It's a shock for everyone to know the news of her dating with the quietest, nerdiest student in the university.

Back to the recent timeline, Ong Sungho is walking with his close friends, Renjun and Jeno, towards the university hall where the Halloween party is being held. Sungho is wearing a Joker costume that is based from a game that he's been playing which is Mortal Kombat 11. His other two friends both respectively wear a costume of Goku(Renjun) and Barney(Jeno).

"Man, I can't believe that girlfriend of yours is able to force you to attend this year's Halloween party." His friend, Jeno, teases you. "Well, he has to because he wouldn't get cuddles from her if he didn't attend." His other friend, Renjun, adds up. The two of them then continue to tease him more while he is only able to roll his eyes because he didn't want to argue more.

"By the way, didn't you hate Joker? Why do you have to wear this costume then?" Jeno asks. "I don't know, she asked me to wear it. She says that she wants us to do a couples costume." Sungho sighs after answering that. "Oh, I guess she's dressed as Harley Quinn then." Renjun states which makes Sungho to just lift up his shoulders indicating he is clueless.

Soon, the three of them arrive at the university hall. When they enter the hall, they see other students with their respective costumes doing their own stuff. Some of them are eating the foods that are available at the party while some are just talking with their friends.

Still, Sungho didn't notice his girlfriend amongst the crowd. Therefore, he follows his two friends to get something to eat and drink. After a few hours, he starts to feel bored and left out in the party. He also wonders why his girlfriend isn't at the party yet. Little does he know that his girlfriend is preparing a surprise entrance during the dance session later on.

At around 10 PM, the peak of the party arrives, which is the dancing session. Everyone starts to dance to the music that is played throughout this session. Even Sungho is dancing with his friends in that moment. But to be honest, he is only dancing because his friends forced him to. Also, he doesn't want to feel left out which makes him want to dance. Nevertheless, he is lowkey enjoying it.

All of a sudden, the music changes into sexy vibes. With the music changing, 4 girls enter the hall. It turns out to be the 4 queens of Kwangya University which consists of Karina, Winter, Ningning and the one who is always in Sungho's mind, Giselle. All 4 of them have similar types of outfits based on DC female characters, Karina as Catwoman, Ningning as Supergirl, Winter as Wonder Woman and Giselle, like Renjun told him earlier, wears as Harley Quinn.

With the sexy vibe continuing, the first thing that Giselle does is go to her boyfriend once she sees him. "Hey babe, you look so handsome in your outfit." Giselle chimes. Sungho can only smile and thank her. "Well, you look stunning, my baddie jagi." He says, which causes Giselle to chuckle a little.

They then both start to dance to the rhythm of the music. It all went well until a few minutes later, Sungho realized that his girlfriend started grinding her ass on his crotch. At that time, he realized that she was trying to make him aroused. She then spins, facing him and whispers. "I know that you're kinda bored at the moment, and also aroused hehe~. I could even feel your boner. Well, I am feeling aroused as well, so let's ditch this party and go to your place, shall we?~"

Without letting him reply, Giselle pulls Sungho towards the hall door and leaves the party. Since his place is not far from the university, they decide to just walk until they reach there. In fact, they have been doing this every single time since the first day of their university years. However, without him knowing, she had a very naughty idea in her mind.

As they both walk past a dark alley, Giselle suddenly pulls Sungho towards the dark alley area. "Y-Yah jagi, why are you pulling me here into this alley? My place is very close, and you know that." He tries to argue.

She giggles before answering him. "Hehe~. I started to feel horny after we left the party." She then turns around, facing the wall of the dark alley and continues to persuade her boyfriend while shaking her ass. "Besides, didn't you tell me that you wanna try to have public sex with me? Now's the chance for you to make it a reality."

After his girlfriend said that to him, Sungho has the courage to do what Giselle's planning. He then gets closer to his girlfriend's ass while quietly fishing out his dick out of his pants and boxers. He then pulls up his girlfriend's skirt, seeing there's no panties before rubbing his length at her slit.

"Seems like my naughty baddie jagi is prepared for this. Here I go…" He teases her before inserting his dick into her in one go. Giselle yelps a little before releasing an inaudible moan, mouth gaping once she feels the penetration. "Mmm, j-jagi. S-So good!!!"

The thrusting of Sungho's dick goes faster and deeper into Giselle's pussy, as both of them, especially Giselle, show more of her skin. Her boobs are freely dangling, which he takes the opportunity to grope them. As soon as he starts to grope her boobs, she whimpers as her body feels so sensitive due to the fucking.

"D-Don't stop, babe… I'm a-about to c-c-cum-m.~~" Giselle chimes which then Sungho goes near to her ear to whisper to her. "T-Then do it, cum!!" With that, she cums hard, lets a long, yet a moderate moan due to still being in public. They both rest a couple of minutes before Sungho flips her girlfriend, facing him. "Just so you know jagi, I haven't cum yet." He said before starting thrusting back his dick into her pussy.

“J-Jagi, I-I’m still sensitive. Stop, please!!” She tries to stop him from fucking her but unfortunately, her attempts are futile. “Do you r-really want me to stop though? Your pussy suggests otherwise, c-clamping my dick tightly.” He chimes, which makes her want to protest but she can’t. And with that, he continues to fuck his girlfriend with no effort at all.

“I still can’t believe you pull me to this dark alley just to fuck when we both know that my house is close.” He says, teasing her girlfriend. Giselle couldn't do anything other than whining and whimpering, as she's still getting her pussy pounded by her boyfriend.

"Luckily, there's no one walking in this area. If not, they'll see how slutty you look now, jagi. Also, it seems like you're the one who's more excited to have sex in public instead of me." Sungho continues his teasing. Despite her moaning, she is able to respond. "It's b-because I want to satisfy you, b-babe. You have s-said about it for too many times which makes me even aroused just thinking about doing it for real."

Another few more minutes have passed and Sungho starts to feel his dick throbbing inside his girlfriend's pussy. This also alerts Giselle that he's about to cum. "Go on then, babe. Cum deep inside me. I'm still safe, remember?" She states.

With 3 more powerful thrusts, he pushes his dick deep inside her pussy before blasting his saved up cum into her. With his orgasm, it also triggers her second orgasm for the night. It takes around 10 minutes for them to relax after their joint orgasms. He then pulls his dick out from her pussy and sees some of their combined juices leaking out from her.

"Wow, that was amazing… I'm glad that I could fulfil your kink, babe." Giselle chimes, which makes him snicker a little. And with that, they both fix their clothes back on before resuming their way to their actual destination.

P/S: After almost a year, my second fic is done... Man, this really blows my mind to complete it just to complete this fic. Anyways, hope you guys like it

#aespa giselle #aespa smut #giselle smut #kpop smut

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temis-de-leon · 4 months

Text

Shy gn!reader goes to their first date with the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Dateables version

Romance Anon: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus and Beelzebub react to shy gn s/o who asked what he would like to do for their first date because he made them happy by accepting their confession so they want to make him happy?

A/N: I asked my brain, "hey, how about we write a little bit" and it answered "how about we fucking don't"

Mammon

He’s ready to turn every single one of your outings into a date, but he’s also excited to have the opportunity of organizing the best first date you’ve ever had.

He’ll make sure you won’t ever regret confessing your undying love to him.

It needs to be memorable and special, so going to the casino is a big no-no. You’ve gone together numerous times already and the image of losing every piece of gold in his pocket and his wallet in front of you on such a special occasion makes him shiver in fear and embarrassment.

A fair or a festival are good choices, but, as much as he’d love watching the city skyline on the ferris wheel or winning a plushie for you to cuddle and think of him, those aren’t available all of the time.

The idea of having dinner and a movie makes him remember the projector in his room, but his brothers could spoil that very easily and bile reaches his mouth at the possibility.

You could go shopping, but that doesn’t feel too intimate, does it?

He becomes desperate after hours of thinking and scratching his head and it’s not until he enters his car to go out for a drive and clear his mind that he realizes he has the perfect solution.

Having dinner together and watching the city skyline are romantic activities, but who says you have to do it at home or on top of a fair attraction?

It’s not even two days later when you find yourself sitting on his car’s hood with take-out ramen in your hands, patiently waiting for him to get a blanket out of the trunk.

The chirping sound of crickets and the distant city noises fill the cold night, but the only thing he can think of is the fondness of your embrace slowly warming his body and making him smile like a fool.

Leviathan

He’s already happy that you like him back and he kind of forgets about everything else, so your offer feels like a slap in the face. An enthusiastic reminder that you’re both now starting a relationship.

That thought makes him cry and yell in the emptiness of his room with non-contained happiness.

He fears you’re going to be disappointed with his ideas for your first date, though.

Going out of the house makes his heart pound in apprehension, anxiety quickly scratching his neck and prickling his brain with needles.

Reading through his manga collection, watching multiple shoujos and playing every otome game he has only make him feel worse and inadequate for you.

Why do you want to go out with someone like him? Reclusive, a bitter sad excuse of a demon who can’t get out of the house without an incentive or a pep-talk.

Do you still like him, despite all of that?

Or is it that… you like him including all of that?

Do you want to be seen holding hands with him? Do you want everyone to know that you like him, of all people?

He can’t set your first date in his room, that would be too pathetic; but, at the same time, going to a café like any other normie couple doesn’t feel like him at all.

What’s a place that combines the comfort and privacy of his room and the outside world?

He asks Henry and his beloved pet stares at him with unblinking eyes. Almost immediately, reality hits him like a train.

Of course! The Royal Aquarium!

The blue lights and the submarine life couldn’t be a better substitute for his room and you’d get out of the house! It’s perfect!

Plus, he gets the opportunity of showing off his knowledge of the ocean, something he hopes will impress you.

He wants to do more for you because you deserve it, but he needs time.

There’s a Ruri-chan convention in a few weeks. Maybe you could go together…

For your second date, perhaps…? No pressure, though!!

Satan

He’s a romantic at heart and he’s been picturing how your first date could go since you confessed to him, so you can’t imagine the happiness he felt when he was granted the opportunity to let all of those ideas become real.

A big gesture would feel impersonal and kill the essence of a newborn relationship, so, although he wants to impress you, Satan will not go overboard.

There are museums where he could show you his knowledge on Devildom’s art and history, but he doesn’t want to spend your first date speaking like a pedant scholar.

There are also high reviewed bookstore cafés, as well as his beloved cat cafés, where you could go to have a hot beverage in a soothing space, but that isn’t exactly what he wants.

He wants to talk to you, hear the nervous stammering in your voice while you blush and struggle to look at him in the eye, and going to a bookstore would quiet your conversations, so he keeps that idea for the future.

The cat café is his favourite, but you would expect that from him and he wants to surprise you at least a little.

He gets the perfect idea while feeding the stray cats behind the House of Lamentation.

Knowing where every single cat in the neighbourhood lives, as well as those who prefer the outskirts of town or even the countryside, shows him a part of the area that no one else has ever seen.

A few days later, Satan looks giddy and enamoured walking by your side while you both feed the cats you encounter, following a path full of flowers that lead you to an abandoned viewpoint.

You’re sitting together, surrounded only by the felines that know when to leave you alone, and, despite the beautiful scenery that displays beyond, Satan can only look at you.

Asmodeus

His first impulse is to go all the way.

Showing you around for his fans to know that you two are dating sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, eyes glowing in delight while he ponders which outfit he should wear so he can match with you.

His plans for your first date seem generic, but a closer look into it lets you know that he has it all planned to make you both the centre of attention.

Other’s and each other’s centre of attention, that is.

You’re colour coordinated, your orders in the café are trending in social media and the weather is so good that little to no people are staying inside their homes.

The both of you are being seen just as you deserve.

Beautiful, together, happy.

Jealousy and envy surrounds you, all of his fans photographing your first date with a mixture of admiration and resentment, wishing to be you; wishing to be him more than ever.

The combination of your company, the external flattery and his own satisfaction makes him think that there couldn’t be a first date better than this one.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

You’re not truly alone until the night comes and the residents of the Devildom have no other choice but to leave you to your own devices to continue with their lifes.

You walk close to him, bumping your hips with his until you both start smiling and giggling. Your voices are almost a hush and he finds the way you lean into him to hear his words better quite addictive.

He feels your breath on his skin, your eyes on his. His hands are itching to bring you even closer and never let you go and it’s not until you kiss under a streetlamp in an empty park that he understands why your first date is so perfect.

You’re with him and he’s with you. That’s enough.

Beelzebub

You already know what he’s thinking, although you may be misinterpreting his execution.

While, yes, he wants to take you out to his favourite dinners and restaurants, Belphie advises him to not go all the way. You don’t have the same stomach as him and ending your date feeling ill would leave a very bad impression.

He doesn’t want you to see him as a permanently hungry beast, anyways. It’s not what he wants you to think whenever he’s close to you, even if he acts like it most of the time, so it doesn’t take much convincing from his twin to agree and search for a more delicate plan of sorts.

He wants the full experience: drinks, starter, main dish, side dish and dessert, but why would you have all of that in the same establishment?

There’s a map in his head where every food related store is highlighted in bright neon colours.

A juice and smoothie bar to start the date followed by a true hamburger restaurant, not any of those fast food chains that only serve half of what is shown in the pictures. Far from there, a walk long enough for you to comfortably digest the food, is a stall specialized in fries. Made in a dozens different ways, they are the perfect last savoury treat to eat before ice cream or a pastry.

Asmo recommended him the retro ice cream parlor and Barbatos took him to the traditional bakery once.

If you don’t like burgers or fries, however, there are more places you could go, just tell him! Whichever you prefer, he’ll be fine with it!

His main goal is for you to have a good time with him, after all, and, although food is a necessity to keep his sin in track, he knows it won’t be what will make your first date perfect.

You being his date is what will make it perfect.

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

Speak Now

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,250

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: On what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, she cannot help but feel Norm is hiding something.

“Oh, I just love a wedding. Well we haven’t had one in a while but still.” Lucy gushed as she helped get her friend ready for her special day. Her hair was being pulled every which direction, while Stephanie tidied up her nails.

“How are you feeling?” The blonde at her hands asked, looking up briefly. The woman in the chair took a deep breath, and blew it out hard while she thought.

“Okay. Nervous, I guess.” She stated. Stephanie, having just gotten married recently, was still in her honeymoon phase and reminiscing.

“I get what you’re feeling. But once you see him in front of you, you’ll know. That’s the one. Like Bert,” her eyes held little clouds in them, “I just knew he was the one for me when we were set up.” Lucy looked towards her friend like she was eagerly taking in the story, but the same could not be said for the woman in the chair.

“I don’t know. Just… the idea though. Of marrying a complete stranger that I’ll meet at the vault exchange. It doesn’t feel right.” She lamented, expressing her concern with the practice.

“You’ll change really quick when you see him. Why I just knew that Bert was going to be the best man for me the second I saw him.” Stephanie said softly once more. They quieted their chatter as the two women began to work on the bride-to-be’s makeup. All the while, she sat there, running through every possibility.

Nothing her mind came up with helped her current predicament. A figure passed by the window into her room, that stopped just for a second to long. It was Norm. Her neighbor and life-long friend, even if he was a bit peculiar. Their eyes locked and she swore that she could see an upset look in his eyes. That was, until, it was broken off by Lucy standing in front of the bride to apply her lipstick.

She had no idea why Norm would be upset over her getting married, even to a stranger. They were just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Although, she had tried to get him to notice her. Taking up a new hobby to show him, only to be met with a disinterested stare while she spoke about it. Styling her hair a different way just to have him ask if she was feeling alright. Trying to find out his hobbies and having him wonder what she was doing there.

But to no avail. There was nothing to suggest that he thought about her in any other fashion than that of a friend. And even that was a maybe, if he even considered her one. She sure considered him a friend of hers. By the time she could see through the window again, Norm was gone. Her heart hurt a little bit. She should be happy. Not pinning after her friend. How could she be happy though? She was not excited to be marrying a stranger from Vault 32. That was not what she wanted. But she had to. For the good of society.

As the two women finished up their beautification of the bride in the chair, she was presented with a mirror. She had to admit; they did an amazing job. Presented with a white dress, she took the offered pen and hesitantly signed her name with the date on the inside panel. Getting dressed, her heart was speeding up considerably. Her nerves were getting the better of her. The walk down to Vault 32 was terrifying. Faces passed and all she wanted to do was scream and run. Her mother and father greeted her as she made it to the spot in front of the door to Vault 32.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Her mother asked, voice airy and sweet.

“Fine.” She replied. Her voice was cut short as a lump formed in her throat. The vault door seemed larger and more daunting now as they stood in front of it. A crowd of people came around the door to watch the exchange happen. Amongst those people, she scanned for one person, who stood at the back of the room. Norm was there. It made her feel better to have him there, but not as good as she should have been.

Hank MacLean came up to her and held her hand while pulling her towards the door. Even she could feel the sweat beading up on her, and her heart beating out of her chest. Before the door could be open though, a voice shouted above the commotion.

“Wait!” Norm pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What are you doing, son?” Hank whispered, about to scold him.

“She can’t get married to someone else.” He stated, looking towards the woman in a wedding dress, standing before the vault door.

“What are you talking about, Norm?” His father, once again, tried to keep a lid on the situation.

“Because I won’t allow you to marry her off. We can trade something else, but I will not have her marrying anyone else. There’s no direct bloodline between us, which means that our children won’t be directly related to anyone except our direct relatives in this community.” He finished his speech, and finally took another breath. Norm looked at his father, his friend, and back to his father. She looked relieved, and a little scared.

“You wish to marry her? Right now?” Hank pressed, waiting to see how this is going to play out.

“Yes. I’ll do it right now.” Norm stood up straighter, looking usually sure of himself as he faced the situation with conviction.

“Alright then. We’ll inform Overseer Jackson we no longer need a match. We’ll find something else of value to trade. I’ll go inform him.” Hank let go of her hand and waked out with his council. Her parents walked out as well, still confused as to what was happening. Soon, it was just the two kids who were looking down at their shoes.

“So… what was that all about?” She questioned, peeking her head out from her lashes.

“I just didn’t want you marrying someone who you didn’t know. I figured you would be more comfortable with someone you know.” Norm murmured.

“Is that all?” Once again, she pressed her friend for answers.

“Well-” he started, “maybe. Not really. I just, just…”

“Norm?” A call made his head peak up. She stepped closer and closer until they were toe to toe, and chest to chest.

“Yes? You are very close to me.” That was the last thing he was able to say until her lips pressed softly against his own. They stood there, finding their place in the moment. Unfortunately, the need for air came about which led for the pair to draw away from the other.

“I think we’re supposed to do that at the alter.” Norm whispered, which sent her into a fit of giggles. He giggled along with her and moved to hold her hand. She grasped his hand tightly and felt the sweat disappear from her palms. Norm felt a surge of confidence as he looked her in the eyes once more.

“Shall we go get married now?” He suggested, looking back into their own vault.

“Let’s go get married.” She agreed, beginning to drag him along with her. Norm followed willingly, and even ended up dragging her a little bit in his excitement to finally have the girl.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #norman maclean #Norman Maclean imagine #Norman Maclean x reader #norm Maclean x oc #norman Maclean x oc #norm maclean imagine

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tightjeansjavi · 10 months

Text

The Menu | Part 1

“Vices to fill a Void”

A/N: so I decided this is gonna be a two-parter because if theres one thing I’m good at, it’s edging my dear readers ;)

~word count: 3.4k~

Pairing | dark! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel Miller has a menu concocted just for his customers. Pills? He’s got ‘em. Guns? Ammo? Name your price. Booze to warm the broken souls and hearts of the QZ? give him a holler. Everything comes with a price, of course. Joels got somethin’ special on his menu. Somethin’ that he doesn’t advertise freely. Y’gotta want it. Y’gotta have a desire that matches his own, only then will he offer what you seek.

Warnings: dark themes, two feral cats energy, mentions of deceased bodies, Joel is an asshole that knows how to get exactly what he wants. Dark! Joel, post!outbreak, Joel and Tess run the black market in the QZ, age gap, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s, mentions of drugs, smoking, alcohol, graphic depictions of violence, reader is a spitfire with a no-shit taking attitude, enemies to lovers type beat, Joel likes to play mind games, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is Angel, +18 minors dni!

The first time you meet the infamous Joel Miller is in his and Tess’s apartment in one of the few available Boston QZ apartments. Rumor on the street is that Joel and Tess are an item. When in all actuality, they’re business partners that occasionally fuck. His options, however, are not just limited to Tess. He likes to keep that part of his business on the low. He’s got a reputation, sure. But he doesn’t boast it proudly like a peacock. He knows his expertise, and he knows it well. His purpose in the structure of the QZ was smuggling. He’d bring pills, booze, ammo, guns, and anything else that was desirable. He’d trade for ration cards; a hefty amount of them. Sometimes, he’d allow his customers to trade their bodies, but he was quite picky, and it ain’t had anything to do with women’s appearances. In that department, he indulged in all body types. What he was most intrigued about was their minds. Their ability to survive, and most importantly, what they desired most in this shit-hole world.

He liked it when they were verbal. Silence was not a name in his game. He liked it when they showed up at his doorstep knowing exactly what it was that they wanted from him. He could play all the cards, and he played them well. He could be empathetic if they asked for it. He could pretend to love them just for the night. He could yank their hair, dig his nails into their flesh and call them a dirty, useless whore, but only if it was requested. See, he wasn’t all that brutal of a man, but if you weren’t careful and direct, he might send you home with more than just an ache between your thighs. He knew how to fuck, and he enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed beating a man senseless, almost.

You, however, held no interest to know what laid beneath his weathered jeans. You showed up wanting one thing, and one thing only. A vice to fill the hole in the void of your heart. You knew that Joel Miller’s menu was just what the doctor ordered.

Tess and Joel were seated at the kitchen table going through their supplies for the day. They had their usual customers, but Joel was always intrigued to see new faces walk through his door.

A cigarette dangled between his lips as he flipped through a stack of ration cards. The scent of tobacco wafted through the cracks in the door frame as your knuckles rapped firmly along the chipped paint. You knocked once, then twice five seconds later. It was customary like a code. Not that Joel or Tess had any concerns with FEDRA; they were a part of his regular cycle of customers too.

“Come in.” His voice was thick, deep, and dripping with authority.

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange as he inhaled the toxic fumes. The nicotine that coursed through his system calmed his nerves. Everyone had their own skeletons in their closets after all.

He paused his counting momentarily as he listened to the door handle squeak before it was pushed open.

“Sit.” He rasped with his freehand gesturing to the open seat in front of the table. “State your business.”

You watched the way the smoke coiled around his head like an ashy halo through the stagnant air. His brow cocked in your direction as his eyes zoned in on the stack of ration cards that you pulled from your jacket pocket.

“I was told that your menu is designed to cater to one's vices. I’m needin’ a bottle of booze, and a pack of smokes if you got any.” You placed the ration cards along the table before leaning back against the chairs frame.

“We ain’t got a whole pack, unfortunately. Five cards gets you five sticks, and three gets ya a bottle of hooch.” He declared in his warm Texas twang.

He was handsome, you’d give him that satisfaction only.

“I’ve got ten cards total. How about you throw’n two more smokes to make it even?” You countered smoothly as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“A negotiator, huh? Well, I'll tell ya what, girlie. Y’got yourself a deal. Y’new around here? Ain’t seen ya before.” He knew pretty much every face in the QZ. But yours remained a mystery. He wasn’t all too big of a fan of mysteries.

“Don’t think that is any of your concern, Joel.” You ignored his question as you passed off the cards.

“True.” He mused with a grin tugging across his lips. ‘S’alright. I’ll jus’ end up findin’ out about you in my own way.” He shrugged with the utmost casualness that sent your blood boiling under the surface. “Besides, my customers always end up comin’ back for more.” He grabbed a bottle of hooch and seven freshly rolled cigarettes concealed in tinfoil.

“There ain’t much for you to find out. Wouldn’t go wastin’ your time.” You grabbed the bottle swiftly before tucking it into the inner lining of your jacket. Before he could send you on your way, however, you unrolled the tinfoil to inspect the handiwork. Once you were satisfied with the merch, you plucked one of the cigarettes and placed it between your lips. “You got a light I can borrow?”

His nose twitched and his eyes squinted tightly before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He beckoned you silently to lean in as he ignited the flame.

“Y’know, these are a nasty habit to break.” He leaned back into his chair with his own cigarette dying between his lips. “Ain’t nothin’ like a good ole’ fashioned nicotine addiction.”

You scoffed under your breath as you took a deep inhale of the cancerous smoke that filled your lungs. “Says the man puffin’ away on one right in front of my face.”

He didn’t even look half fazed by your remark as he blew the smoke drifting from his lips off to the side.

You stared at one another a second longer before you stood up from your chair and snatched the cigarettes from the table.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Joel Miller. See ya around.”

Before he could respond, you were already slipping back out his apartment door and into the hallway.

“Man, she’s got a pair of balls on her, huh?” Tess mused from her seat alongside him.

“Yeah,” He smirked. “She sure does.”

The next time you saw Joel Miller was a few weeks later. You were assigned with assisting in dumping deceased infected into the deep pits where their flesh would be burned and melted away and all that would be remaining was their brittle bones. You had done this job enough times to get used to the putrid stench of rotting flesh. Others, however, couldn’t stand the smell. Some would pass out, others would empty what little was in their stomachs.

A denim-clad shoulder brushed against you as you lifted another body from the truck bed.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Angel.” Joel’s voice was muffled through the bandana he wore across his face, but you knew it was him just from that Texas twang of his.

Your eyes rolled back as walked past him and dropped the body into the flames that engulfed it.

“C’mon now.” He mused. “I know y’heard me.” He pressed.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You muttered under your breath as you bumped his shoulder harshly.

“Y’break that nasty habit yet?” He asked with a twinge of curiosity.

“Nope. Don’t plan on it either.”

Much to your relief, he walked away without speaking another word. It was short-lived however as he was standing right behind you in line to receive your ration cards for the day. The air was hot and almost unbearable as you wiped the sweat of your brow along your sleeve. When the cards were placed into your outstretched palm you shoved them deep into your pocket. The pay wasn’t worth the work that you put in.

Before you could disappear around the corner of the alley to head home, a hand grasped your shoulder rather firmly and before you could reach for your concealed weapon, your back was met with something hard that nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Joel Miller.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’, Joel?!” You hissed under your breath as he flipped you around to face him.

“Got a proposition for ya, girlie. Trust me, you’ll want in.” His voice dipped down an octave as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of pills. Painkillers you suspected. The kind of shit that people could easily find themselves getting addicted to.

“And what makes you fuckin’ think that I would wanna do anythin’ for you?” What the fuck was this guys problem? The nerve he had.

“Cus’ I know there’s somethin’ that you want. Somethin’ that you need. Besides, you ain’t gonna make it long here if you don’t start usin’ people. S’the only way to survive in this world now. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. Tess and I wanna branch out further and in order to do that, we gotta get the rest of FEDRA off our backs.”

“You ain’t know shit about me, Joel. I’m doin’ just fine on my own.” You ripped your arm from his grasp, but he was quicker than you expected.

“I ain’t askin’ you, Angel. I’m tellin.’ Now, you’re gonna take these pills, and you’re gonna go on over to those guys o’there, and you’re gonna trade them. Y’get half the ration cards from the deal. Seem fair?” His tall stature loomed over you like a shadow being casted across the sun. Everything about this man was massive. His hands. His bulging arms. His shoulders. He was built like a fucking fridge, and he clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Is this what you do to all of your customers? Corner them into alleys and force them to do your dirty work for you?” You scoffed as you ripped the baggy from his hand. “And I get all the cards. I ain’t gonna let you just go and boss me around for half.”

“Jus’ the pretty ones that have a mouth to ‘em.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Fine. Y’get all the cards, but only if they agree to trade. Go on now, Angel. Time's a tickin away.” He nudged you forward with the palm of his calloused hand resting along your lower back.

“Asshole.” You hissed under your breath as you stashed the pills into your pocket before departing from the alley. If there was one thing you were good at, it was getting men to give you exactly what you wanted. You could flutter your lashes, giggle, flirt a little and their little egos would be crushed to dust beneath your fingertips.

“Hey boys, got a minute?” You spoke in a honeyed voice as the three officers diverted their attention towards you.

Joel watched from the shadows of the alley as you worked your charm like a fiddle. He was impressed with your natural skills. You certainly were no pushover. He did wonder if this was all a facade that you wore confidently. He thought briefly about what it would be like to have you beneath his sheets. What would you request from him? Would you ask him to be sweet and gentle? To fuck you like a man oughta? Or, would you be willing to share your deepest, darkest, filthy desires with him? He hoped for the latter.

When the deal was done, you made your way back across the street. Maybe Joel Miller was right. Maybe you should start using people for what they have. Who gave a fuck about morale anyway?

“How’d it go?” he inquired with his broad arms crossed against his chest as he leaned back against the brick wall.

“They wouldn’t take the bait unfortunately.” You let out a faux sigh. “Guess the deal is off.”

“What a shame, Angel. I surely thought you had it in ya. Guess I was wrong. Oh well. Good luck to ya.” He pushed himself off the wall only to find himself being pushed right up against it. Your palm lay flat against his chest as your freehand reached into your pocket and pulled out a single ration card.

His brow raised curiously as you went to slip the card into his back pocket. His eyes widened when he felt the warmth of your fingers searing through his jeans. At this close proximity, he got a proper whiff of your natural scent, and his cock pathetically twitched in the tight confines of the denim.

“Here’s your half of the deal. Decided to be generous.” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

His hand reached up to grab your wrist but before he could make contact with your skin, you were already stepping away from his reach. Your fingers rose in a mock salute before you turned on your heel and walked away.

Fuck. She’s perfect.

The next time Joel Miller saw you it's past curfew. Hours to be exact. The Boston QZ streets are quiet sans the labored breathing and deep grunts coming from a group of low-life scumbags.

“I already told you, I don’t have shit on me!” You emptied out your pockets to show these fuckers that you weren’t messing around. Would raw honesty really keep these men from tearing you apart?

“Bullshit. Y’got stuff back at your place, right? C’mon now darlin’, don’t lie to us. We’ve seen you hangin’ around Miller. Y’workin’ with him?” The man that had you pinned against the brick wall pressed further.

“Oh, for fuck sakes! Are y’all really that boneheaded to think that i’m gonna be carryin’ merch on me out in the open like this?!” You yelled out of frustration as you tried to pin your wrists free to reach your concealed knife.

“How about you shut the fuck up and tell us where Joel’s apartment is, and we won’t have to kill you. How’s that sound?” The man twisted your wrists tightly to the point where you were just waiting to hear a sickening crack.

“I don’t know where his apartment is, asshole. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you because i’m not a fuckin’ rat!” You hissed between your gritted teeth as you threw your head back in one swift movement right into the face of the man that was holding you hostage. His nose crunched audibly from the force as he stumbled back right onto his ass.

Blood pooled and gushed down his lips as he yelled out a slew of profanities in your direction. Just as you were reaching for your knife, it was knocked from your grasp and clattered to the concrete out of your reach.

A fist collided with your face that sent you slamming into the brick wall with your ears wildly ringing.

You detected a familiar voice through your half-conscious haze as you slumped down to the ground with a labored wheeze.

A sickening crunch, followed by a strangled yell as Joel had one of the men in a headlock. Their body dropped to the ground like a bag of bricks. Eyes forever unmoving. The man that you headbutted was desperately trying to crawl away as Joel staggered after him. He bent down, grasping the hilt of your knife in his calloused palm.

His pupils were dark like a never ending black pit as he sent his steel-toed boot colliding into his gut over and over again. The man’s wails died in his throat as Joel flipped him over onto his back and slit his throat with one fatal swipe. Blood spurted from the entry wound and speckled Joel’s skin in a spray of crimson.

The third man almost got away, but Joel fired a bullet right into his spine without a second thought.

He focused his attention on you as he crouched down, knife still in his grasp, dripping with blood onto the pavement. His freehand grasped your face gently as he assessed your injuries. His good ear detected the sound of tires crunching under gravel; FEDRA.

“Angel, we need to go. We need to move. NOW.” He spoke urgently as he tucked your knife away before placing that hand along your shoulder. “FEDRA is gonna be here any minute, and I don’t know about you, but my ass is NOT bein’ thrown in lockup!”

When you didn’t immediately respond to his dire request, he took matters into his own hands, literally. You felt his strong arms lift you from the ground as if you weighed nothing. He left the crime scene in a flash. He was speaking to you, but you couldn’t detect his words as his mouth was moving too fast.

The last thing you remembered seeing was his dark, espresso brown eyes, and his blood spattered skin.

“Need’ya to open your eyes for me, sweetheart. C’mon. Guy knocked ya pretty good, but you’ll live.” Joel murmured close to your face as you were coming to.

What the fuck.

Your lashes fluttered for a moment and then snapped open. Despite the ache in your face from being punched, and the pounding in your skull, you immediately shot your hands upwards and shoved harshly at his broad chest.

“Joel?! What the actual fuck–”

“Ah, there she is. The sleepin’ beauty awakes, finally!” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat as he moves off the couch to give you space to breathe.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Joel?”

“Wow.” He tuts under his breath dissaprovingly. “Can’t even get a thank you for savin’ your fuckin’ life?”

“I had the situation handled on my own. What the hell were you doin’ out past curfew anyway?” You sat up a little too fast as blood rushed to your head.

His strong hands were gently easing you back down to a lying position before he was backing off again.

“Easy now, Angel. I wouldn’t sit up a’that fast if I were you.” He warned you sternly.

“Well, good thing you aren’t me, huh?” You snapped back as you swung your legs over the side of the couch.

This time he was more forceful in his actions as his hands pressed down on your shoulders firmly. “I said, stay put. God, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ listen to me when I tell ya to take it easy? You’re gonna bust your nose back open, and the stitches on the back of your head. Just chill the fuck out.” You could taste his hot breath on his tongue and feel his pulse quicken. The bulging veins in his neck protruded through the thin skin.

You swallowed harshly as your gaze wavered along the remnants of blood on his skin. Why didn’t he bother to wash it off? You couldn't help but wonder.

“I didn’t fuckin’ need your help, Joel. And you still haven’t answered my previous question either.”

He rolled his eyes before he lifted his hands from your shoulders and stalked away into the kitchen. You heard him grumbling under his breath as he slammed open a cabinet door that was already hanging by the hinges on its last legs.

“Oh, I see. So you’re just gonna ignore me now? Y’know, its fuckin’ rude to not answer someone when they ask you a question, Joel.” You muttered mostly to yourself, but you secretly had hoped that he heard you too.

Two semi-cleaned glasses were yanked from the sink and lifted from their rims as Joel swiped up a bottle of whiskey before stalking back over to the couch. He slammed the glasses down on the faded coffee table before popping the cap off with his teeth.

You were infuriating. Disrespectful. And he wanted nothing more than to put you right back into your fucking place. He however, refrained from doing so and instead poured a large splash of amber liquor into both glasses.

“Y’know, Angel. One day that mouth of yours is gonna send ya six feet under.” He stated firmly as he picked up his glass, swirled the liquor around before throwing it down his throat in one gulp.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you glared at him from the couch. You reached for your own glass as you slowly sat up. He was pouring himself another when you downed the liquor without a fuss.

“I am well aware of that, Joel.” You deadpanned and he poured you another.

“Good, that’s real good, Angel. S’then it should come as no surprise to you that I think you’re a fuckin’ disrespectful brat.” He rasped low and deep as his words rumbled like an oncoming storm.

The tension in the room was palpable as you stared one another down. Two predators with sharpened claws ready to strike.

______

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