#basically to get relationships/interactions started/established!

[edenpoise]

<3 for a small starter ~!

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[osamucide]

BITCHBOY ⊹

ALL I WANT IN THIS WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS TO BE YOUR BITCHBOY . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: ~6.8k

cw: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. icky pervy stoner roommate!Dazai <333 also pathetic wet cat mess of a man Dazai, afab+gn!reader, established roommate relationship, no established romantic relationship, implied bi!Dazai if you squint, referenced whore!Dazai, weed smoking+intox/noncon (reader says "stop" once and he does not stop), dubcon (becomes 'consenual' but Dazai's coercive+they're high), noncon elements can be interpreted (esp at the end) to be roleplay with prior consent! dirty talk, shotgunning, fingering, squirting, kissing, penetration, creampie, insulting nicknames (Dazai receiving), biting, this is depraved and I will answer for it on judgement day

reid: he’s all i think about.

tags: @kalsplace

You’re grumbling under your breath when you’re about to cross the threshold to your apartment because, as if the rest of your day hadn’t been annoying enough, your stupid key decides to give you extra trouble—as of late, it’s not working unless you jam it in the lock at a very specific angle and jiggle violently until just before you’re sure the knob will fall off, all whilst cursing your landlord’s neglect of the crummy old building like some enchantment or spell that ties the whole rage-inducing, access-granting ritual together.

Couldn’t your good-for-nothing roommate hear you struggling with it?

“Hey, sorry,” he chirps too brightly for the evening hour, floating out of his room as you shut the door behind you with a sigh—ever the mind reader. You forego your eye-roll this time; you’re convinced that one of these days they’ll get stuck in your skull what with how much you do it. You hear Dazai sauntering toward you as you’re shrugging your jacket off, hanging it up, tossing your bag on the table. “Was busy.”

You’re ready to turn and scowl at him, but when you face him, he’s waggling the little pipe in your face—the green one with blue flecks in the glass, undoubtedly what he was busy with while you broke into your own home—and you won’t admit that you already feel your irritation start to melt away when it slides from his fingertips to yours. You clutch it, latch onto the mouthpiece, and watch as the brunette flicks the flame out and lights you up.

You exhale gratefully, take one more pull, and hand the glowing bowl back for him to catch the remainder of before he lights it again. “Thank you," you croak before short cough leaves you. “Was real close to bitching you out for not leaving the door unlocked.”

Dazai blows his smoke directly back in your face with a small grin. “Redeemed by my weed once again.”

You chuckle and wave it away, making a point of sliding by him and toward your room to change. You need to unwind a second before dealing with him for the rest of the night. “‘S’all that ever redeems you. Crack a window, will ya?”

It’s really not a bad arrangement to have a live-in pot dealer—that’s basically what Dazai is and has been as long as you’ve roomed with him. Sure, he's also a pain in your ass; the man can hardly cook, you had to show him how to use the washing machine in the common area when you first moved in, and only a bit ago, after almost half a year of sharing a living space, have you convinced him to keep his mess of discarded socks and food packaging contained within his bedroom. It took a lot of harsh reprimanding about how you're not his parent and he's not your teenage son for you to realize it'd be a little of his own medicine to get him to start taking you seriously. Leaving your empty takeout box on the coffee table right where he liked to eat his, tossing your sweatshirt over his spot on the couch and refusing to move it for days—he took the message, albeit smugly, after that, and hasn't given you trouble since.

Even despite being a pain in the ass, though, especially now that he at least cleans up after himself, you have to admit you don't hate his presence in your home and in your life. You chalk it up to how infuriatingly charming he can be—you know he's a detective, and he's certainly got talents for sniffing out your emotions, solving your day-to-day problems, and smooth-talking, but all of that falls under being nosy and weird when he tries to guilt you into praising him for it. If he was any less annoying, you'd maybe even admit to yourself that he's kind of attractive; only physically, of course, which you've known since the day you met him, but any other way he might be—retaining a heavy air of mystery in spite of how bubbly he is, occasionally inviting you out drinking (mostly so you can drag him home once he overdoes it), smoking you up without asking for money—is just so overshadowed by what a fucking weirdo he is. You can’t separate it.

He certainly keeps you on your toes.

That’s really the worst thing about him. You know you’ll exit your room to grab your leftovers from the fridge and he’ll be pestering you to watch some movie with him—probably one of his cringy rom-coms (the fact that he watches and unironically enjoys them serving only marginally to make him a little more of an interesting character) during which he'll sling his feet across your lap or curl up into you so he can pinch your side once or twice just for your reaction, leaving you red in the face and mildly irritated while he giggles condescendingly at you. But as you always do, you think as you sigh and lift the hem of your sweater to curl it over and off, you’ll concede.

Your head’s caught in your sleep shirt when you hear your door creak open.

“Um, privacy?” you half-yelp—something you’re still figuring your way around with him. You jump out of line of the door as you poke your head through the neckline to shoot him that glare you saved from moments earlier.

Dazai just snickers, eyes wide and innocent. You're naked from the waist down. “Could’ve locked it.”

“As if that would stop you,” you snap back, stretching the hem over your thighs and ass as you skitter awkwardly back over to the edge of your bed where a pair of comfy shorts lay. “Get out!”

“Will you hurry up and put your pants on? I got My Big Fat Greek Wedding locked and loaded.”

“Yes, yes, just get out.”

He’s still snickering when he disappears behind the door. He doesn’t shut it all the way, and you mutter freak beneath your breath, secretly hoping he hears you.

You tug your shorts on and meander back out as the intro rolls, set on your leftover homemade tonkatsu; as you settle cross-legged with your plate on the couch, Dazai reaches over and plucks a piece of cabbage off it.

You side eye him as you chew. He’s already occupying himself with packing another bowl—he must've finished the first one himself. You'd half-expect him to reach for one of the prerolls he keeps in the coffee table drawer so as not to have to go to the trouble again, but he does.

“You eat yet?” you ask carefully.

He shakes his head as he uses the butt of the lighter to press it down. Of course not. Even weed doesn’t make him eat. You’ve expressed concern over his eating habits before, but he always dismisses you with a hum and that smug smile.

You make a point of tearing the remainder of your cutlet in half with your utensils. When he reaches out to pass you the pipe, you reach back, chopsticks pinching a hefty piece of pork.

Dazai raises his eyebrows at you.

You raise yours in reply, as if to say, take it, or I’m not smoking anymore with you.

So he does, reluctance veiled thinly by amusement. You know him well enough by now; or, you think you do, at least. As he chews, he balances the chopsticks back on your plate and turns to you with the lighter, curling his own legs beneath himself.

Only satisfied when he swallows, you set your plate aside, face him, and press the pipe to your lips again, looking to him. To his pretty brown eyes that search you owlishly, that you swear sparkle with a little more vigor after even the smallest bit of sustenance enters his system. Maybe you should just leave him to starve, but then where would you get your weed? You’re an idiot, you’d say if you weren’t waiting on his flame.

But before he can light it for you, he pulls the lighter away, and you chase it with a soft hey—he’s grinning at you again, like a devil, like always.

“You always do that, you know?” he asks.

“Do what?” you mumble impatiently against the piece.

He gives in and dips the flame down into the bowl; you inhale deep, flower crackling softly as you do, and he only answers when the smoke’s halfway down your throat.

“Look up at me all cute like that every time I light it for you.” Those brown eyes bore into yours and you become aware all too quick of the fact that you do—you do indeed peer up at him through your lashes; your eyes water as smoke burns your throat and you blink away, trying not to cough out your hit at how he’s gazing at you, but he doesn’t stop there.

He would never stop there.

“Makes me think bad things.”

So you cough out your hit anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, choked, face red from more than just the sting of the weed. You busy yourself with pulling another hit while it’s still lit.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Lots of ‘em.”

Your head swims now—you’ve built up a decent tolerance from living with him, but forgetting to breathe at his words and zeroing the huge puff you take next surely doesn’t help. You cough again, and nothing leaves your lungs this time as you debate whether to take his challenge.

Another thing you’ve learned about Dazai—he loves to fluster people. If living with him wasn't enough proof, you’ve seen him do it millions of times to pretty bartenders, or on the off-chance his partner from work joins you drinking; off-chance, truly, because Kunikida already has to put up with Dazai all day at the office, and anything more than what’s required of him might be better off called torture rather than fun. And beyond loving it, Dazai demonstrates it like a long-honed skill—the exploitation of people’s humiliation, the monopolization on people’s most sensitive spots. He had previous work in it, he’s said, but you can’t imagine what job could possibly entail all that. You think he just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth—no, he’s smart enough to know when to; he just doesn’t like to. He’s what most people would refer to as an asshole.

And yet, you find yourself torn between feeling disgusted and entertained by him all the same. Although you often find yourself the victim of his little mind games, you’re not above jabbing back at him. What does that make you, you wonder? The question briefly crosses your mind, but you shake it off as, in your buzz, you swat away the bait; decidedly, you’d rather watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding in peace, finish your tonkatsu, and then go to bed tonight.

“You’re gross.” The scoff you let out sounds more like a chuckle.

Dazai tilts his head, flicking the lighter for you again; he sparks the bowl as he watches you, as if in exceptional contemplation, and you make a point not to do it again—you inhale and gaze straight down at the flame.

“You don’t wanna hear what it makes me think about?” he asks cutely, unwilling to let you get away just yet.

You ignore the slight flush undoubtedly on your own face as you slip the bowl back to him; doubly so, you try not to watch the way his lips wrap around the mouthpiece.

But right now, you can’t seem to help that your bleary-eyed attention is on him. Just as he exhales, you remember you haven’t replied.

You’re not quick enough. He doesn’t take your silence as an invitation; it’s an opportunity. You see it in his smirk, just a second too late.

“Makes me think about how pretty you’d be looking up at me like that from your knees.”

He’s good at his games—he invents them, after all. But you’d be damned if he thought you wouldn’t shut him down when you weren’t in the mood.

“Yeah, no, don’t particularly wanna hear about it, thanks.”

This might be a new low, even for him, you think. Who the fuck just says shit like that?

When you think about it a second longer, though, he really hasn’t brought anyone home to fuck obnoxiously (a boundary you were quick to set with him) in at least a couple weeks, so maybe he’s just pent up. Either way, his comment makes you wrinkle your nose, furrow your brow—hopefully negating the pink inevitably tinting your cheeks. Fucking weirdo.

“N’ now you’re blushing all cute, too,” he observes; you scoff again, more pointedly this time. “Thinkin’ about it?”

As if, you want to say, but the words get stuck against the roof of your dry mouth, so you conjure up some of your spit, swallow it down, and hope he doesn’t notice—but it’s Dazai; he will—that your high's settling onto your shoulders swiftly. He’s pointing the bowl back at you, and as you grab it robotically, you’re still trying to speak—a sure sign you should both shut up and keep your places on opposite ends of the couch and watch the movie and finish the tonkatsu, but instead you just balk. No matter what you do, you play right into his hands—that’s how it happens all too often, and you certainly won’t learn now or anytime when his weed’s coursing up to your brain and back down to your thumping heart. Dazai lights your next hit for you, laughing like it’s all some big joke, and maybe it is—maybe you’ll blow your smoke in his face this time and pick up your tonkatsu and shut up and just watch the damn movie.

As if you’d ever be so lucky with his antics.

You’re shaking your head in near-awe when you pass it back to him once more.

“I mean, we basically kiss through this thing all the time,” he says like it’s relevant, waving the pipe about. “I don’t think it’d be so weird if we fucked. Or if you sucked me off, at least.”

“It—it would totally be weird, Osamu,” and when you speak his name so lightly, blinking at trying to muster up your own laughter as a defense mechanism, his sight flickers up to yours. “That doesn’t even—I’m not sucking your dick.”

“Shame,” he purrs. “‘Cause I know how pretty you’d look. Your lips all wet and pouted against my t—”

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Now you laugh, out of pure disbelief at how far he’s taking it. He pokes at the tail end of what’s left in the bowl and chuckles, too, seemingly ready to let it go now that he has you laughing. "You're horrible."

The more you let him talk about it, the more you entertain him, maybe you can let it peter out.

“What about me? Do I look pretty when I do it?” he asks, batting his lashes as he pulls another hit off the pipe.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” you let your laughter idle as he doesn't tear his gaze away from you. He looks pretty. Whatever. You cross your arms as you feel the familiar tingle of your high behind your eyes.

“Would I look pretty on my knees?” he prods.

You could slap him—if nothing else, just to make his face burn half as much as you know yours is. When he sets the bowl and lighter aside and goes back to observing you, eyes low-lidded and red, chin rested on his hands, propped up by his elbows on his crossed legs, you have half a mind to shrink away from him—but you keep cool, even if the way you're at eye level with his searing stare feels a little too intimate.

You mirror his position. “Hmm, I don't know.” You steal his thoughtful tilt, too, and tack on, “Maybe if you were begging like a little bitch.”

You're prepared for him to laugh tauntingly again and then let this die where it stands because he got a reaction out of you, right? That’s always what he’s looking for, so it’s about time he goes back to his corner of the couch where you'll bully him into a few more bites of tonkatsu.

But he stays locked onto you, quietly.

And then he's shifting forward off the couch and down to the ground.

“Osamu—”

“Uh-uh,” he chides you softly, crawling to situate himself directly in front of your figure. Looking up at you all cute. “I’m gonna be the one begging, remember?”

Your disbelief swirls with refusal as he paws at the hem of your shorts as if to say, turn, please, and fuck—what can you do other than turn red as a rose as he grabs your ankles, unfurls your legs, and props his chin on the cushion between your thighs? You feel alarmingly higher, blearier when his fingers creep up beneath the fabric, slowly, looking at you as if for reassurance.

“We're not—you can quit fooling around, seriously.” You want to laugh again but it comes out deadpan, strict; you feel heavier with each landing of his fingertips against your skin, and he just keeps looking up at you. Cute. Pretty. Taking it too far.

“I want to,” he mumbles, retracting his hands only for them to find your hips, your waistband. “Come on. ‘Wanted you so bad for so long. I know you want me, too,” he speaks your name slyly, quietly, and it prompts your breath to quicken a little; he traces circles into your hipbones with his thumbs, toys with the elastic at your waist, snapping it softly, and you squirm. “Please?”

For so long? you think. How long?

“I—I'm not high enough for this, Osamu,” you try to joke, but he just twists around to the coffee table drawer for one of those prerolls and his lighter.

“I can get you higher,” he offers—tone still much too innocent, motives still haphazardly veiled by what a big jokester he is, and he sticks the joint between his lips and lights it.

Before you can coherently protest, he rises, supporting himself on your thigh with one hand and removing the joint from his mouth full of smoke; when he leans into you, you catch his wrist to keep him from ashing on the back of the couch, grab his face in a half-attempt to stop him in his tracks—but ultimately, when his mouth meets yours, you open for him.

The plume of smoke he shotguns into your mouth is thick; you breathe it in. His palm like a brand against your thigh.

And he doesn’t stop.

“Osamu,” you whine against his lips, still mushing his face away and hating how your dry throat roughens your voice. He just kisses you, kisses you, and your fingers find the pulse point in his wrist—he’s a decent kisser, you think, at the very least. You have half a mind to let your fingers slide to the mess of brown hair beyond the apples of his sharp cheekbones, and—

You backtrack in your mind. You’re actually probably too high for this.

You have to detest the way it feels so heavenly when he squeezes the fat of your thigh, dodges your lips, and works steadily in a line from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, all tongue and teeth in his pursuit. You have to detest it. Fucking weirdo, you repeat in your mind. The joint burns between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and pull your head back, raising your feet to kick him weakly in the abdomen, and he relents—your toes feel asleep when they hit the carpet again, and you hoard the joint between your fuzzy fingers when he reaches for it back.

“Osamu,” you say again, stern, eyes wide. The weed. You're high. You're both high, and this is weird. He’s just your weirdo roommate and you got home wanting to end your stressful day without complicating anything else in your life today.

So why, when he looks at you like you’re a caged animal that’s just as afraid of him and he is of you and works the joint from your fingers to take another drag, do you let him cup your face and exhale more smoke down your throat?

Why do you chase his lips when he blissfully, needily, sinks to his knees once again and starts to traverse beneath your shorts?

With the right focus of mind, like staring at your hand when you’re spinning and convincing yourself that the world around you is actually moving and you’re staying still, you can almost pretend he’s a stranger—some sexy, enchanting stranger that you met on the train home after your shit day, meant to relate to you with docile nods and hums as you air your grievances about work or school or whatever, meant to kiss it off you like it’s just a little bit of dirt.

Getting out of your shorts is like getting out of second skin. You're taking another hit, unwise or not, because it's back in your hand and you don't know what else to do; you watch him in your haze with a mix of anticipation and distrust, but right now, anticipation is winning by a small margin. You’re high, you tell yourself—twitching already, in that way that has nothing to do with desire but rather just means you've smoked a little too much too quickly, and the idea that Dazai might still fake you out and send you to bed feeling half-hot and bothered, half-violated, with no pants on and a near-empty stomach bobs around in your inhibited brain—again, you expect him to laugh, say you’re fried, clap you on the shoulder and tell you it's a joke but he doesn’t, he cranes for a hit from the joint and you hold it to his lips shakily and he touches you on the exhale, the pads of two of his fingers nestling carefully between your folds over your underwear and when he brushes your clit it’s—

Fuck, it’s electric.

“Osamu, stop,” you say, hoarse and abrupt, grabbing his wrist. "I'm—"

“What?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone. Beneath your hand his thumb comes up to replace his fingers, to loop circles around you, and you're shuddering, back bowing, and he's grinning at you wickedly.

“I—I'm high,” you admit, voice feeling thick, soupy as it leaves your throat.

“So? Me too.” He blinks at you, slow like a cat, in a way that you're pretty sure he's still mocking the way you apparently always flutter your gaze at him when he lights you up. “‘S the best way to do it.”

“Yeah, but—”

He doesn't interrupt you with but what?

And yet, you still don't finish your sentence.

You glance down to where he’s rubbing you gently, where you hold him at bay—where you could yank his arm and twist it uncomfortably if you really did want him to stop but the longer he circles over the fabric that’s growing increasingly, alarmingly wetter, the more you melt away from yourself and you think, fuck, he really is gorgeous as he’s resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

“Scoot forward f’me, please?” he almost whines; his voice changes, stricter when he says, “And stop letting that burn. Smoke it.”

And you comply, shuffling your hips forward and placing the filter between your teeth.

Dazai looks up at you. All cute. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. Hungry.

And you look back, apprehension sparking but then fading with each drove of smoke you inhale. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. All cute.

“Let me taste you, please,” he almost whispers. You almost find yourself a little endeared by his pointed pleases.

“This is fucking absurd,” you croak, but your resolve is leaving you. He’s a little blurry. “You’re such a sicko.”

His smile widens against the word. Sicko. Almost like he’s pleased to hear it leave your mouth. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out, baby.”

His touch is impatient and restless and crawling as your underwear goes, too—and you don’t appreciate how good it felt when his thumb was on your clit until it’s back again and you’re slipping the joint out of your mouth to let you jaw fall slack; you tangle a hand up in that messy hair that is much softer than you could’ve imagined and all but yank him back toward your cunt.

“Please,” you echo him, finally. “It felt so good—do it again.”

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you in your whimpering, fingers prodding at your hole and tongue landing a feather-light lick to your wetness. “I know you want it.”

The sounds are lewd. Disgusting, really—fitting for how he’s acting. Dazai swirls his tongue in circles around your clit as he works his middle and ring fingers into you; cracked gasps leave you at the intrusion, and you can’t keep your eyes open when he curls them upward ever so slightly as he makes out with your clit. If you were sober you’d, of course, be embarrassed at how you’re already gushing for him, but all your mushy brain can think about right now is the sparks bolting to your otherwise-numb fingers and toes with each suction of his pretty pink lips against you—isn’t this wrong? Shouldn’t you feel weird? Yeah, probably—but you’re forgetting why, and you’re forgetting to care.

He hums against you and it sends a shockwave throughout your already-vibrating body; the moan you release into the air is like song, even to yourself. Is he really good at this, you wonder, or is it the weed?

Oh right, the weed. The weed, the weed, the weed.

You pull his mouth off you, almost dropping the joint that’s not much of a joint anymore—only the filter remains.

“I don’t think this is—”

Fuck, you keep going back and forth. You keep breaching the surface just for him to tug you beneath the water again and convince you the drowning feels nice. And it does, for a few seconds—until it starts burning your lungs to a crisp again, at which point you tear away from him kick up, and in the moments you spend sucking in air you don’t get how he stays beneath for so long, like it’s nothing, how he doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop, his fingers still curling inside of you, and you’re going under again to the sound of his voice.

You feel suffocated. More delirious by the second. It’s nice.

“You already told me it feels good,” he mumbles against you, lapping at you, and you’re letting up on his hair, letting him become a weight again where you should float.

And the lack of oxygen must be getting to your brain because, even though you still don’t think you want to drown, you cease your kicking. For the last time.

“Osamu,” you cry. It sounds like a moan. It might be.

“I know, I’m such a sicko.” There’s no remorse in his words; there can’t be, not when he’s still curling up into your g-spot in just the way that makes you croon his name again—undoubtedly a moan this time—but when he comes into focus again, he looks so apologetic. “You can say it again, baby. It’s okay.”

“S—sicko,” you mutter disapprovingly, but rolling your hips all the same.

He smiles. Soft, kind, apologetic.

You’re scared to move. You know if you do, you’ll both be able to see the wet stain collecting beneath you on the cushion. You feel it.

So you barrage him with more.

“You—you’re a fucking pervert. You’re disgusting.” You feel wetness on your face, too. You deduce that it’s from how perfect his fingers feel inside you, goading that warm slick out of you and into his palm, onto the couch; regardless, you don't stop berating him, your tone harshly contrasting your wriggling hips. “You disgust me.”

“I think you like it.” He presses up, hard, and you gush, gasping. A short, clear spurt narrowly misses his face; he leans back down to lick it off, off the cushion, off your thighs, off your crying cunt. “I think you like how nasty I am.”

“Disgusting,” you whisper. “Disgusting. You're disgusting.” It’s a little chant you hold onto as he rises again to kiss you, messily—a means to replace his lips with his wet fingers, shoving them past your lips and against your tongue where you lap at them instinctually, like you’ve been waiting for it. It’s so wrong to be tasting yourself on his fingers, but your eyes roll back anyway, just to lurch forward as his hand retracts and you find him grinning once more as he slips his sweatpants and boxers down in one swipe. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Dazai mocks, giggling. “You just tasted how fucking wet you are.”

“Osamu,” you whine as he kicks his garments aside; you begin to draw your feet up, your knees to your chin, but his hands, stronger than you anticipate, pry you open and flip you to your back and he grins, biting into his bottom lip all the while. Why, you wonder, when the dim living room light glints off his teeth as he situates himself between your legs and leans down to cage you in between his arms, do your hips hitch toward his? Why are you so adamant to deny him?

“You gonna say it again? C’mon, I love hearing my name,” he breathes, ducking down to lick across your jawline. “But I love when you call me those words. Say it again. Tell me how nasty I am.”

“You’re the worst,” you groan, but it sounds comical, even to your own ears, because you’re scratching at his shoulders in a way that draws him closer to you rather than further away.

“More, baby,” Dazai hums into your neck, reaching down to swirl his tip against your wetness. When you feel him, you jump.

It feels good. It feels even better than his thumb and you don’t know if you’re still on your way up but you feel higher and higher by the second and the instinct to push him off is slipping further beyond your grasp. When he pulls back to watch your mouth fall open as he rubs himself into you, you almost let the word pretty slip past your lips—he looks so pretty, tongue flicking, eyes dark, and you catch yourself with your lower lip between your teeth, reflecting the desperation he conceals in everything but his words.

Pretty isn’t what he wants right now, though—and suddenly you feel compelled to give him what he wants, if only it means he’ll keep touching you like this.

“S’fucking nasty—degenerate fucking freak—” you eek out; you don’t know much longer you can tiptoe the line between repulsion and sheer need, but you’re tilting further and further with each circle of his dick and you can tell he’s getting off on the way you’re lurching into him now, running toward his touch instead of away from it.

You think you need him to fuck you, now, or you’ll cry.

“Osamu, please,” you continue, sounding on the verge of tears now—where you should’ve been before, when you genuinely wanted him off you, yes. You wanted him off of you before. Didn’t you? There was a time, a mere few minutes ago, when his fingers in your skin and his animalistic gaze were revolting. Right?

“What’re you beggin’ me for?” Dazai asks like he doesn’t know. He knows. He knows what you don’t want to admit to yourself and he’s going to dangle it over your head, he’s going to rub it in your face, he’s going to make you answer through your hazy high that he never should’ve come onto you through to begin with, and you’re going to give him what he wants—you always give him what he wants, even if you don’t mean to, even if you don’t want to, but now you think you want to. You want to, because it feels so good, and he’s slowing down, he’s stopping and when he takes his hand away to swipe his thumb across your chin, pull your lip from between your teeth and work your mouth open with his fingers again, the loss almost hurts. You want it. You want to.

It’s going to hurt even more to say it, but you want it. And before you can even get it out, before the words even hit what little air is between your lips and his, Dazai looks thrilled at what you say next.

“Please, fuck me,” you whisper.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely—” He reaches back down, but the smugness doesn’t waver; his tip catches on your entrance—emitting a lewd squelch that should make you cringe but instead prompts your lip to fly between your teeth again—and you hook your tingling feet behind his back, legs astride his waist as you're pushing his bangs from his face all in one motion. “I guess I’ll fuck you, pretty baby.”

"Yes," the dreaded word falls from your lips when he finally works his way into you, past that tight ring of muscle, to nestle snugly inside you until the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

The noise you draw from him—something between a sigh and a moan—is heavenly. His nose nuzzles the trail he licked across your jaw before and you find your hands linked behind his neck, urging him down, onto you, into you—and when he recoils his hips to thrust back in again, quick and short, you keen against him, pathetically, in a way your past self—the one from four or five touches ago—would hate you for.

You should hate how gross this is. How gross he is for this.

But you don't, and you're not going to torture yourself with asking why anymore.

The friction inside you doesn't feel comparable to anything; for the first time in a second, you feel grateful for the weed pulsing through you. You let your eyes roll back and flutter shut without consequence.

Dazai moves against you like water. Water you're content to drown in this time; his touch doesn't crawl anymore as much as it seems to soothe and as he picks up his pace, brings a hand to your cheek to wake you back up, pull you back above the surface.

"You sound s'fuckin cute," he sighs; those eyes, predatory before, are now just brown and melty, honey-colored backgrounded with red fog, not so searching as much as they seem attentive, not making you feel so uncomfortably vulnerable as they do softly seen. He thinks you sound cute. You giggle through the unrivaled pleasure, giggling through your own moans which hit your ears and do sound cute—sound especially cute woven through his.

"Y'sound... so," you start, "so fucking—unh, Osamu, don't stop!"

He chuckles now, low and breathy, and you push his hair back from his face again; his eyes roll back when you do it, and you just do it over, over, over, drawing clipped groans out of him, stealing the words from his throat as he steals yours and you tug, you tug on his hair and the moan he lets out, broken between thrusts, is so raw and laced with need that you moan in reply, clenching around him because, fuck, he sounds so cute, too. "Wanted this for so long, baby. Pussy feels s—so much fuckin' better than I could've imagined."

"How long?" you finally poke back—you want to know. You want to know how long he's been holed up in the mess of his room, jerking off to the thought of his cute little roommate finally falling between his fingers—you want to know how bad he's wanted this, and if getting you high out of your mind just to get it was worth it. You focus your voice to ask him. "How long you wanted this, 'Samu?"

"So long—since—" he gasps, fucking into you harder, faster, deeper; you tug his hair again, exposing his neck, and yank him down to sink your teeth into his neck. You need the reprieve as he starts hammering against the deepest parts of you, eliciting wet smack! after smack! from between your writhing bodies. You jostle beneath him as he finds his breath; "Since I fuckin' met you. Always wanted you."

"Yeah?" You mean it to be a teasing little rhetorical question but it comes out more like encouragement amidst the bliss radiating from your cunt throughout your whole body, but you find it in you to continue— "You been—you been thinkin' of me under you like this? Like the sicko you are?"

Unbelievably faster and harder. You choke on a scream; Dazai's grunting above you, and it hits you that those names really do spur him on. You're far from offending him—you're bringing him closer and closer to filling you up with each and every insult and jab you throw his way and if you were any less cockdrunk you'd be hurling even more barbs at him about how that makes him so much worse, so much more gross but it just spurs you on, too, right now—and you realize, when he looks at you with those fucking eyes again how bad you want him, how bad you've wanted him, too, for so long; you couldn't—wouldn't admit it because he's just your weirdo roommate but really, maybe that's what you love about him. You certainly love the way he makes your toes curl when he reaches down to play with your clit again. You cry out against him.

"Osamu, fuck!"

"Say it again," he begs you, pretty brown eyes glassy as they fall shut, as the tip of his nose touches yours. "Say it again, please, baby."

You know what he wants.

"F—fucking pervert," you huff, doing everything you can to hold onto the rope that's uncoiling rapidly inside you, coming further and further undone with each slam of his hips into your ass. "Ah—you're disgusting. Disgusting."

You fall back on your mantra and it has his thumb moving faster, harder, just like his thrusts, just like his voice, even if it sounds unconvincing through the shockwaves of pleasure; you feel it, the unraveling, it's washing up on you so quickly, so much quicker than it should be at the hands of your weirdo roommate.

"Don't stop," he pleads like he's not the one fucking you to orgasm; you see white, you feel as light as air—god, has cumming always felt like this? Shouldn't you hate it? Shouldn't you hate that it might never feel like this again?

You do, you do—you hate weed and you hate sex and you hate your weirdo roommate Osamu Dazai for coaxing the most mind-blowing climax you've ever felt out of you, but you don't hate any of those things, not really; you hate that it's never felt like this before, and that it can again if only you can push your pride down for a few more moments and call him a—

"Freak—gonna—gonna cum in me?" you goad, breathless, lucky for speech as he fucks you through the otherworldly high, as you clamp down on him and screw your eyes shut until you can keep going. "Gonna fill me up like the nasty motherfucker you are?"

"Ngh—yeah, yeah, yeah...!"

Dazai, in all his depraved beauty, fucks his fat load into you mercilessly; you twitch, shake beneath him, driving strained sobs from his chest and talking him through with soft yeahs, want y'r cum, filthy fucking sicko freak, you disgust me. He loves it. He falls apart, and you tug on his hair once more as he slows, as he spills out of you, as he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes.

"You—" Dazai's breathless, heaving. "You're amazing."

You giggle again, wiggling a bit and trapping him further close to you, fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. Soft. You don't feel any less high; just blissed out. "You're cute."

"Knew you thought so," he sighs, lopsided smile coming back; you don't know where in the pleasure he'd lost it, but its return has you tilting your chin up to kiss him once more. Soft. Gentle, sweet, no tongue; not gross, not hungry, just sweet. Satisfied.

"But you're still weird," you tease against his lips. Sly.

When Dazai pulls back, the hunger in those eyes sparks again.

"Want me to show you how weird I can get?" he threatens.

"I dare you," you taunt back.

And he grins, fully and wickedly, once more; you can count on it. He'll show you, alright.

[sordidmusings]

Cuddling Headcanons - Straw Hats and the Three Unwise Men

A/N: Just mulling over something sweet and something to reference back to for my own use in future writings. I just wanna give all of them some love tbh I am a slut for affection

Includes! Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Luffy, Usopp, Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks

Warnings: gn!reader, all fluff, opla leaning for the most part but I think it can fit both pretty well, an innuendo or two

Part 2 (drabbles for each character) here!

Enjoy some guided daydreams!

Zoro

Partial touches during naps were how he started interacting with your personal space but your lap no longer belongs to you it is now his pillow 

Honestly, basically any of you is a pillow whenever he decides - I don't care if you are significantly shorter than him he will find a way to fall asleep on your shoulder 

For more contact, you need to be the one to cling to him but he does absolutely need to be touching you at least a bit 

Once he gets used to it he’ll give you a look any time you’re depriving him of his daily intake of physical affection (the sass king will always get his tribute)

He absolutely melts like a cat in the sun if you massage at any of his muscles, could be anything as much as an evening dedicated to working out every knot he has or as simple as putting intentional pressure behind your thumb as it circles and drags along his skin

He can get nervous about kissing you when it’s not on the lips - something about it feels more vulnerable to him somehow - so if he does venture to kiss your cheek or head or shoulder or hand please reassure him with a smile or your own kisses or a firm squeeze

He gets better about being seen hugging/holding you eventually, but will never get comfortable with giving more than pecks on the cheek or forehead around the others. Maaaaaaybe the corner of your lips if he’s feeling ~spicy~

Sanji

Back hugs, back hugs, back hugs-

He’s always making sure that the two of you brush hands or arms when near each other, even after you two establish a relationship it will always give him tingles 

Likes to be very intertwined when you cuddle - if he can somehow wrap around you more then he absolutely will

He is The Best at tracing shapes gently on your skin, just like with brushing hands he never tires of it because, wow, he gets to touch you! He still can’t believe it sometimes

Very good at making you feel cherished when he holds you because of the way he always seems to take his time and ease into it and constantly caress you not to say that there’s never a time he’s hurried and ravenous 

It also helps that he’s always whispering sweet nothings to you about how wonderful you are, how beautiful and precious and lovely and kind and capable and special

When he wants to trap you while cuddling, he wraps his legs around you and uses their absurd strength for evil

He will melt if you ever do the same to him and he will happily be at your whims to cuddle until you've decided it's enough, all of you could be under attack but he is staying right where you want until you decide that he needs to move

Loooooves showering you with sweet little kisses anytime you're cuddling

He can sometimes get carried away with pda because he forgets that there’s anyone else around whoops

Nami

She has her legs on your lap always - sometimes while she's laying/leaning back, sometimes with one leg hooked over one of yours, sometimes basically sitting on your lap

She likes to be the one that is held and feels most comfortable with her face snuggled into something (please nurture her and that scared, lonely inner child)

Enjoys brushing the tip of her nose across you, especially across your cheek or neck or the tip of your own nose

She likes to hook your arms together whether you’re standing next to each other during a convo or you’re walking or she’s sitting next to you, she just loves the casual contact and how she can use it to be playful and pull you around or use it to stay close and let others know that both of you are taken do not even think about it keep moving along dude

She’s very weak to hugs where you pick her up a few inches off the ground for a second, they send her heart racing (bonus points if you’re noticeably taller or shorter than her and do this)

She’s also weak for words of affirmation, especially when you speak them to her while you hold each other in the quiet hours of night 

For some reason literally being on your lap around others is fine but if you give her a kiss to the temple while that's happening? Suddenly it's Too Much, both in how sweet it is and also because she’s being perceived while it's happening

Luffy

Any/all contact is being had whenever he’s with you

If he’s on the floor next to you then your calf is now his teddy bear, if you’re on the floor near him he’ll snatched your torso with his legs, if you’re sat near him he’s wrapping both arms around one of yours to snuggle it

One of his favorites is leaning your backs against each other, he feels really supported and the way you occasionally lean and twist your head back to nuzzle his or give him a quick kiss makes him smile with the utmost joy

He will carry and move you around in the strangest ways - fireman carry, one arm around your waist while you’re upside down, your knees hooked over his shoulders while the rest of you hangs down, you trying to koala to his side, one time you were curled completely around his waist like a pool floaty - no one understands why you two can’t be normal

Likes to be the one to hold you so he can fidget when he needs without feeling like he has to unlatch you first, this is especially when you two are laid down and/or going to be cuddling together for awhile

PDA doesn’t bother him at all, he doesn’t give a fuck if anyone sees you snuggled up together, doesn’t even occur to him that he should care 

His playfulness will come out often with dramatic “mwah!” kisses, nipping at you, blowing raspberries on your skin, and the occasional tickling

Usopp

It’s necessary for him to have his arms wrapped around you some way 

Likes to be the big spoon to feel like he’s acting as armor and protecting you, it just hits the right place in his brain that has him feeling Big and Strong in the best way

He loves when you plant a kiss on his chest, especially if you aim one directly over his heart (that is totally at a normal rate plz don’t check)

He likes to play with your hair and/or massage your neck and scalp

Big into making sure wherever the two of you are cuddling is comfy, has many extra blankets and a selection of pillows by size and firmness

Always down to cuddle but feels more comfortable if you initiate first, especially when it’s a new thing between the two of you 

He simultaneously loves pda and is nervous about pda but that nervousness is absolutely gone when he’s drunk or even pretty buzzed

Good at incorporating his head into hugs - hooking his jaw on your shoulder or on top of your head, leaning his temple gently into the side of your head, bumping you softly with his forehead 

Need background noise while you go to sleep? He’s more than happy to hold you and turn on storyteller mode. Honestly, it’s one of his favorite things to do and he cherishes that time together

When it’s bedtime stories he’s telling, his voice is so low and soothing

Mihawk

This man needs to have his hands holding something on you (your hand, your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, your back, your ass lol), 

He likes to feel wrapped around you like hes hoarding you to himself, this leads to him enjoying you laying on his chest, having all of your weight on him has him feel like he’s fully possessing you

Will definitely kiss the top of your head/your temple/your forehead/basically whatever his lips are near, not a consistent bout of them, more one deliberate peck when the need strikes him (it’s also his customary goodnight to you)

Like the other swordsman, he will give you a look if you miss a habitual touch (especially if it’s the way you usually ran a hand through his hair with a kiss to the forehead before you left the castle, that was non-negotiable it had to happen), his stare however is more the 1000 yard variety and those bright yellow eyes will bore a hole through you until you understand what you did wrong

Something about this man makes me feel his temp runs hot but not in a way that bothers him, like he doesn’t feel hot or overheated but when you touch him the difference between you two is noticeable

It’s a damn good thing that he reciprocates your physical affection, even if 70% it’s just an arm coming around you, because his stony expression makes it easy to assume that your touches are unwanted 

This type of limited response is mostly for more casual cuddling like hugs or sitting next to each other because when you’re laying together his face is always soft and he’s much greedier to be pressing into you

Okay with some pda like quick and passing touches including kisses, but not a fan of anything more intimate when others can see

Buggy

The Chairrrrrr, as you’ve told him it’s circUS so both of you need to be on the throne (If he’s wanting to look extra powerful or intimidating you have no problem sitting at his feet and holding him like a heroine on a 70s fantasy novel)

He’s a big fan of any possessive gestures - arm around shoulders, back hugs, pulling you to wrap your arms around him, having you sit in his lap

He’s a cuddle switch for sure because sometimes he needs to hold you to remind himself that you’re his and sometimes he needs to feel held

Very fragile for gentle affection - please draw shapes on this man’s back, play with his hair and massage his scalp, give him head kisses, hand kisses, wrist kisses 

Feels like his heart will explode if you nuzzle your face into him whether its into his chest or the side of his head or good lord his pALM (He may have literally fallen apart the first time you did that and if you’re ever in the mood for some Entertainment bring it up) 

He is actually made for cuddling because if his arm is uncomfortable to lay on or starting to fall asleep? He can detach it and now it’s your stuffed animal. This can extend to literally any part of him that either of you feels is getting in the way of the perfect cuddle 

Need to feel needed? The way he’ll pull you into him and hold you like you’re going to disappear will let you know he needs you

Absolutely LIVES for pda, he gets to show you off to everyone and have your gorgeous self make him shine brighter in the spotlight? Nothing could be better

Shanks

Sharing his space often means one of you sitting between the others legs, whether one is on the floor in front of the other’s seat or y’all are laying down together with one settled further down the bed, this often leads to you laying your head on the hip or stomach or upper thigh of the other 

He mostly likes to be on his back or stomach and pretty splayed out, so you’ve adjusted yourself to gripping to him after he’s taken over the bed

It always makes him soft to think about you always choosing to cling to him without him having to hold you there, it really drives home that he’s something you actively want

Will grope you, sometimes sexually, but he also just likes the feeling of grabbing you, it’s somewhat of a manifestation of cute aggression 

He’s a sucker for getting his neck/shoulders/upper back rubbed while cuddling (which is a pain if he’s decided to be on his back) and he is not above bargaining for it or prodding you like an indignant pet each time you stop (very good puppy eyes), this is one of his favorite perks of having you in his lap

He’s another one to not care about being seen by others but not because it hasn’t occurred to him (like Luffy) but because anyone judging him is WAY less important than getting more affection from you 

His heart gets really tender when you lay with him and massage the stump of his arm and the shoulder above it because it helps with the phantom pains when he has them, it also help with the tension from using the muscles on that side to compensate, and it reminds him how the only thing about his arm that bothers you is that it hurts him

Part 2 (ficlets) here!

[letsbangts]

tell me what to do || jjk

⤷ summary: when the familiar becomes unfamiliar what do you do

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.4k

⟶ genre: angst, established relationship au, breakup au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, big argument, talking about breaking up, the blame game, basically misunderstanding due to miscommunication

⟶ warnings: explicit language

↬ a/n: once again, this a very old piece I polished up. okay so this was my second piece of work so read with caution. I was absolutely obsessed with the song so I used the lyrics as a guideline for writing, I incorporated the lyrics into the story. let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback & recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song :) angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ tell me what to do shinee 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist

these days, i don’t know, i don’t know you. you look like you gave up on a lot of things but i hear your silent scream

I sit at the dining table drinking tea in my home - our home but lately nothing seems like ours anymore. It feels like there never was an ours, never an us. I don’t even need to sense it, I can see it. It’s as though I don’t know him anymore. He looks like he gave up on a lot of things, and like he gave up on us. I can almost hear him silently screaming for an end, our end.

lovers without extreme development is this the losing hand that time has placed? we haven’t ended it but it’s already over

He walks through the doorframe fully dressed ready for his day while still sporting his messy bedhead that he somehow manages to make look angelic. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed, I still see his beauty and that’s something I don’t think could ever change. Because that is what he is a beauty inside and out and that can’t simply disappear.

He greets me with a gentle kiss on the forehead, a soft “good morning” and a soft smile. We’ve been like this for a while now, stuck in this certain level of interaction almost a routine. Like lovers without any extreme development, without any growth in our relationship if you can even call it that anymore.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask a bit apprehensively.

He picks up the coffeepot, while avoiding any slight piece of eye contact and pours himself a cup with the coffee I made for him, just another part of our routine. I’ve always hated coffee, its dull blackness, the bitter taste, the way it leaves a stain, how the smell lingers, and how it keeps you awake. But after Jungkook that view changed for me, its dull blackness suddenly started reminding me of Jungkook’s dark dreamy eyes, the bitter taste of it reminded me of his lips as that was my only intake of it, and those stains it left was warmth around my heart, the smell was like being engulfed in his arms, and it allowed me and him to be up spending more hours together. In a way, coffee was like a representation of our love.

However, that love has turned black and bitter just like the coffee in his mug. The sweet smiles we always shared and the bright laughs that used to be heard between us vanished. He vanished, pulled away and it was too late to try to pull him back.

“Mhm,” he replies nodding while taking a sip, and like our love, it disappears as he swallows it down.

I nod with him and look down at my hands wrapped around my mug. Is this the losing hand that time has placed? Were we just doomed to keep repeating the same routine with each other in denial, in silence similar to the one we are currently sitting in a few metres apart while we are living in different worlds away from one another?  We haven’t ended it but it’s already over. We were already over.

He refuses to have conversations with me when before no one could ever shut us up. Instead of constantly messing around to get a smile out of each other, he always seems to be at a safe distance away from me.

there’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of us

As the bottoms of both our cups are revealed, so is our obvious stunt to keep a conversation from starting. Jungkook sets his mug in the sink and approaches me, and with just those movements my heart races.

“Well I’m going to head off okay?”, he stares at me with an expression I struggle to read…it’s almost…apologetic.

“Yeah, I need to start getting ready anyway,” I say.

“Okay then I guess I’ll see you later,” he says like it's a question while picking up his keys and approaching the door. As if he is unsure we will return to each other as if we are not one another's home.

I hum in agreement and just as his hand is about to touch the knob. I realise he forgot, one of the things that I assumed had turned into second nature for us has slipped out of his head. Now fearing that I could be the next thing to slip out of his head or even worse slip out of his life.

“Jungkook?” I call out.

He turns almost too quickly like he has been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

“Yeah?” he turns with wide eyes.

I give him a look, a look that speaks words only he could understand.

“Ah,” he sighs approaching me.

He cups my face with two hands, hands that are all too familiar but feel like they belong to a stranger at the same time.

He gives me the kiss I had reminded him of. It isn't necessarily part of our routine but something we have always done. It was always our sign of love to the other before we headed out into the world, a reminder of our love.

A reminder I think is much needed for us both.

He pulls away still holding my face “Sorry” he says and this time the apologetic look in his eyes is all too clear matching his voice.

But as I hear his words his ‘sorry’ seems to be for a different reason than just forgetting to kiss me before leaving the house. But without thinking more I just let it go.

“It’s okay. Get going now or you’ll be late.” I laugh softly and with one last kiss, he’s out the door.

There’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of us, both knowing that we should let go, that we should kiss goodbye one last time and both walk out of that door and go our separate ways for good. But that is easier said than done.

Jungkook and I both well aware of the fall in our relationship are also conscious of the love that will forever remain between us. The history between us is far too much for us to walk away. To take five years of memories and experiences with a person you’ve grown with so much that they have become an attachment to your life, to you as a person is an unimaginable pain that we would both rather avoid.

It is also scary, Jungkook is the one thing I remember having through everything, he is essentially a part of me. The thought of becoming one person again is something I never pictured having to do again. In all of my plans for myself, and for the future he is right there beside me. I have become accustomed to considering things for two people I couldn’t imagine just worrying about me, one person.

But as I consider what is right for the two of us all I can think of is that maybe we were better off as two separate people.

you don’t tell me but you want me to know you think that you only gave the words you threw at me because you’re too used to me

As the day comes to a close I hear the door open and footsteps follow. The sound I used to anticipate now makes me tense. Nevertheless, once the owner of those steps and so much more turns the corner, my lips can’t help but leap into a smile that’s both relieved and nervous.

Jungkook takes off his shoes and takes a seat beside me, with yet a space once again between us.

“Hey,” he breathes out as he settles into the couch.

I slightly hesitate, “Hey”

We sit in silence but hear everything that wants to be said. An invisible weight piling up on our shoulders, an awkwardness that has become usual between us. So I finally broke it and said it. The moment we never believed would come or tried to avoid finally came.

“L-look Jungkook," I take a deep breath and continue, "we both know what has happened between us-“

“Ye-Wait, what?” he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, it's time we finally faced it, we’ve run our course. I supposed our time together was only supposed to be this long.”

“What are you talking about?-“

This time it is me who interrupts.

“It's just hard for me to let go of you, you just mean so much to me but I can’t control how you feel.”

“Huh? How do I feel? What do you mean? What are you even talking about right now?" he rushes out.

“It's okay you don’t have to keep silent like you’re keeping some secret from me, I know. You’ve lost feelings for me”

“No, you’re not listening to me-“

“Kookie, it's okay I’m a big girl I’ve broken up with a guy before.”

“Break up?", his voice panicked, "Woah just listen to me for one second, will you? Holy shit!”

Once again we sit in silence except this time I can’t hear the silent words waiting to be said.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you know but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about not even close.”

“I-I thought-“ I stutter out eyes widened.

“Yeah exactly, you thought. Or is that what you want? Do you want to break up?” he asks staring me directly in my eyes, his voice much softer with apprehension.

“I want to make things easier for you,” I reply in a whisper head lowered as I fiddle with my hands in my lap.

He gives me a look, a look as if I have just said something impossible to comprehend. We were both unaware of what had been happening between us for months. It's like he has become so used to the act we put on to ignore our downfall that he forgot it was an act.

“Easier? " he scoffs a laugh with zero humour, "Is breaking up something easy for you?” he argues back.

The fact that he was going to sit there and continue to play this game even after I called it out sparked an emotion inside of me and the one that decided to come out was anger.

“Oh, come on Jungkook! We both know you checked out on us a long time ago.”

His eyes widen and then he also snaps.

“Me? I checked out, are you being fucking serious right now? I know I have pulled away a bit but you didn’t give me any sign to do otherwise!”

“Are you seriously turning this on me right now?” I snapped back with a newfound boldness to defend myself instead of my initial plan to make this an easy conversation for him. For us.

“Well, I’m not going to blame myself, even though that’s what you’re trying to do. Just because you know me, you think that means you know all my inner fucking feelings. When it's clear you don’t know mine or your own!” He says in a stern and loud tone that I have heard him use in the past…. just never to me.

indifferent and painful words left deep scars on that day words that made me realize that i’m still a fool

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy for me to read your feelings if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious on your face and the way you act differently around me now!”

“And you think I started acting the way I did simply because I suddenly just lost all my feelings for you? You can’t be that clueless!”

The words being thrown between us were indifferent and painful which had already left their mark on both of us and only made us more frustrated. At this point, the distance between us seems bigger than the couch itself and my heart feels heavier than when I thought we were about to break up.

“No, you can’t be this low into making this seem like it’s all on me! And not knowing my feelings how does that even make sense?” I blurt out.

“Seriously, I know when we first started having problems we both started acting slightly different towards each other but it was never this bad…” voice much calmer and less tense than it was a few seconds ago as he continued.

“But it was after my birthday, you know after what happened, you just changed how you acted toward me -with me completely.” His tone turned the air serious almost still. I felt it slap me right across my face, run right into my chest knocking the air out of me.

“I-I did?", making my way full circle back to stuttering.

The next words that come out of his mouth make me realize the fool that I am. And at this realization, I could only tear up. Choked up it is my eyes this time that turn apologetic, while his eyes look at the floor before us.

He nods.

“You did. At first, it was just little things like not asking me to pick you up on my way home or not asking for my shirt to wear to bed. But then it turned into so much more.”

I looked down filled with a bit of shame. Until I heard a sound from him I didn’t expect, a chuckle.

“Just like that. You didn’t even look at me anymore. At the table, in the car, you even turn your back to me when we’re in bed. I used to catch you staring at me even when I wasn’t looking at you.” He smiles fondly at the memory and it’s his turn to look down at his hands.

He plays with his bracelet, one I got for him two years ago for his birthday. He shakes his head, ”It’s as if my presence makes you completely uncomfortable now.” his voice cracks.

And it is right then when I do too.

if only i can erase it if only i can

At that moment I wished I had done the exact thing he told me I always did. Because once I did look up at him what I saw broke me. His eyes filled with tears he is trying to hold back, a few escaping but he is quick to wipe them away. It was the worst thing I could see besides looking at me driving him away. It was me hurting him. If I could erase everything I did to make him think that I didn't love being around him I would, and now I could.

i took you for granted but just thinking of you not being there i don’t want to go through that my world would crumble

Although I may not be able to erase everything I can change everything from here on to prove to him he has the wrong view of what he is to me. He is the furthest thing than just an uncomfortable presence. He is my best friend, my roommate, my chauffeur, my home, my family, and my lover. My everything. Even the thought of him not being in my life…my whole world would fall apart.

am i the one for you at some point, you were keeping me in check i said you changed a lot but i changed the most the one for me, i didn’t know but that promise keeps suffocating us time keeps lingering but our time keeps getting destroyed

The tears running down his face make me think he feels the same, that he doesn’t want us to end like this. It assures me of us, that he is the one for me and I am the one for him.

“I’m sorry,” he looks at me and for the first time in a while we both look into each other’s eyes with hopefulness, “I said you changed a lot, but I was the one who changed the most. And I kept acting that way because I had made myself think that was what you wanted. I didn’t want to let you go so I thought by doing that I would hold onto you longer but that very thing is what suffocated us. It's what wrecked our relationship and sent it down even further. We had so much time to fix it but it just kept getting destroyed.” I say with two streams running one under each eye.

He finally speaks after what to me feels like a whole lifetime.

“It's okay, I mean, it's both our faults though,” he sniffs, “We should have had this conversation a long time ago.” He has gone back to fiddling with his bracelet this time him being the one to break eye contact.

He laughs, again catching me off guard with the unexpected reaction.

“It’s funny, the one thing we did the most even when we didn’t need to or weren’t even supposed to do, is what we failed to do when we needed to the most…talk.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well at the irony.

“I guess we took all those times we told each other to shut up when watching movies to heart.” I chuckle out and he laughs at my response.

that smile came to me, more brightly the cold hands became more warm two lonely souls met not lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely i’ll look into you again, i’ll place your breathing in my ears even if everything but us changes

His smile seemed brighter now more than ever. At that moment the room seemed to be glowing.

I reached out and grabbed his hands,

“I love you, I have always and will always. I don’t want to give us up, I never have. We’ve been together for too long to go back to being lonely and I’d be an idiot to pick loneliness over you.”

I looked at him the whole time watching his expression with every word. I look through the tears in my eyes at him and when I feel him squeeze my hands in his the tears spill over all over again.

“You are the only girl who has had my heart for years. I’ve never debated giving it to anyone else. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll get us back to the good place where we were before. Even if something has to change I don’t care as long as we are the only thing that doesn’t.”

His words were exactly what I wanted and needed to hear, enabling my tears to keep falling down my face but now out of pure happiness, the pure bliss of us finally back to one another. We were finally back to being us.

I pull him towards me by the nape of his neck, foreheads resting against each other. With our lips brushing,

“I love you” I whisper to him.

He lovingly smiles back.

“I have always loved you too.”

And those were the only words I ever needed to hear from him.

i hope you’ll tell me first don’t cry no more if your heart can see me don’t cry no more

He pulls me onto his lap, legs dangling over his. I bury my head in his chest, my arms wrapping around his strong torso. His arms pull me into a tight embrace, one that signifies neither of us is about to go anywhere.

“Now stop crying, baby.” He teases me, the only evidence of his tears is the red in his eyes.

“I can’t they won’t stop now.” I giggle out past my sobs.

“It’s okay now, we know our feelings are on the same page.”

i’ll go to you first at the end of a different road i’ll wipe your cheeks that are wet with tears and ask you

“Now we just need to figure out where to start where do we go from here,” he continues as he holds my face again as he did hours ago but now the gesture felt completely different as he used his thumbs to wipe my cheeks that were wet with tears, I look into those dreamy coffee coloured eyes of his as I listen to the next words that came out of his bitter coffee flavoured lips that I can already taste,

“Tell me what to do”

[astrogossipp]

Relationship Numbers in Numerology

Your relationship number is derived from your DOB (date of birth)as well as the other persons DOB and describes the nature of your relationships, how you deal with each other, and overall dynamic and focus of the relationship. Every number holds a very specific energy and that energy will tell you about what kind of relationship you have.

masterlist🍒

How Do I Find Out My Relationship Number?

Take your DOB and add all of the numbers together until you end up with a single digit from 1-9. Example : 12/09/1989 now we'll start by adding all the digits first 1 + 2 + 0 + 9 + 1 + 9 + 8 +9 = 39...further adding it to get a single digit 3 + 9 = 12...again 1 + 2 = 3

Similarly, we'll do the same with the partner's DOB, for instance I'm taking 7/01/1988 that would give us 34 again add and we'll get a 7

So finally we received both of our numbers now we'll add both numbers together 3 + 7 that gives us a 10, which basically gave us our relationship number which is 1

Here's what numerology says about your relationship number

1 energy - The partnership between you two is characterized by a shared propensity for taking risks, which, combined with the mutual confidence you inspire in each other, significantly enhances both your lives. Together, you will experience profound transformations, driven by your collective need to lead. Moreover, there is an inherent sense of individuality and healthy independence within the relationship.

2 energy - The number 2 in numerology is associated with intuition, empathy, and emotional depth. It is as though the two of you possess an innate understanding of each other's feelings, communicating in a way that transcends words. This creates a profound, almost psychic connection between you.

3 energy - In numerology, the number 3 signifies communication, sibling-like relationships, and learning. Together, you may interact as siblings or close friends, with intellectual engagement playing a crucial role in your bond. You both prioritize learning new concepts together and sharing diverse knowledge with each other. However, potential challenges may include difficulties in expressing yourselves or instances of miscommunication.

4 energy - Together, you will focus on establishing something stable and enduring, with your bond growing stronger each day. You are likely to achieve financial success gradually, and there is a profound sense of security and mutual reliability in your partnership. There is also joy in the simplicity and authenticity of your relationship.

5 energy - This relationship is characterized by a playful, romantic, and enjoyable dynamic. Together, you both have the potential to infuse a great deal of creativity into the world. There is an inherent sense of freedom within your partnership, allowing you to create numerous meaningful memories and learn extensively from one another. Additionally, a future filled with many children is suggested.

6 energy - Unconditional love, a sense of family, and a feeling of home are hallmarks of your relationship. There is a profound emotional bond and mutual protection between you. Both of you may feel a deep sense of duty towards each other, continually seeking to satisfy and support one another. During periods of personal healing, you will find yourselves attracting individuals who resonate with the energy of the number 6. It is typically during such transformative times that you encounter one another.

7 energy - This relationship represents a karmic and past life connection, with the number 7 signifying its deep spiritual nature and link to the past. You were destined to meet in this lifetime to fulfill a unique purpose together. This bond will lead to significant spiritual awakenings and considerable personal growth for both of you.

8 energy - In numerology, the number 8 symbolizes infinite abundance, encompassing power, wealth, and success. Together, you possess the potential to create an empire, and your bond would be unbreakable. The number 8 also signifies karma, indicating that your relationship may carry significant past life karma, potentially involving debts from previous existences. On the downside, this connection could also involve power struggles.

9 energy - Together, you have the potential to make significant contributions to the world. You embody aspects of each numerological energy, including freedom, sensitivity, communication, stability, playfulness, understanding, power, and wealth. Because you possess these diverse qualities, there is a shared desire to give back and improve the world as a united force.

this post was created by @astrogossipp on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

[k4lenz]

"poor baby.." ✮ hobie brown x fem!reader

a/n: what is up!!!! this is my first fic, AND IT IS NSFW. but i've had this idea stuck in my head and it literally won't go away so basically it's hobie being gone for a while from his universe because of a mission, and his reunion with reader (his gf) when he comes home very affectionate!! reassuring, and just hobes n reader being cutesy and in love nsfw will be below the cut!!! if you like this, pls interact and my reqs r open <3 word count: 1.6k!! notes: smut, scratching, riding, fingering, praise, eye contact, heavy affection, soft turned rough, established relationship, no protection, pussy eating (hobie is a munch n nobody can change my mind), subspace, aftercare

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Hobie was tired. Exhausted, really. Pulling his mask up in the dead of night as he slipped into his apartment through his bedroom window. Throwing it aside. He was just happy to be back in his universe after a draining mission, because it was somewhere where he could properly relax. With his beautiful girl. Speaking of his girl, you laid on his bed unstirring. Wearing one of his hoodies and wrapped up in the blankets, sleeping peacefully. He had been afraid to leave you all by yourself in this shithole of a universe for a week, but you'd reassured him that you'd be okay. He chuckled fondly to himself at the sight of your peaceful sleeping face, stripping himself out of his Spider-Suit and into a pair of sweatpants instead. You quietly stirred, eyes slightly opening and blinking awake. Sitting up with a soft gasp when you realized what, or rather who, was in your house. "Hobes!" You squealed, getting up and latching onto him the minute you recognized the silhouette of his wicks. Always excited to see him. This mission had been extra long, and you'd missed him. Hobie grinned, gently wrapping his arms around you and placing you back onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, the dark moonlight barely illuminating his face. "Ay, luv. Missed me?" You pressed a kiss to his lips, nodding with a cute little smile and eagerly looking up at him. Settling back under the covers with him. "Mhm. How'd the mission go?"

He grumbled at the thought of that mission, kissing you back before muttering. "Fuckin'ell, was a handful dolly. Miguel never fails to get on me nerves. Just satisfied to be back here with ya." You pulled him down and cuddled up to him. He cooed, realizing what you wanted. "Poor baby. Must've been s'lonely." He teased, moving so he was sitting up in the bed with his back against the headboard, and you were straddling him. He peppered kisses all over your face. You whined in response to the affection and teasing, pouting. He grinned, leaning your forehead against his own and noticing how pent up you seemed. "Awww. What is it? Use ya words, I know ya can. Got somethin' to tell me?" "Need you 'Obie." You mumbled under your breath, and his eyebrows raised. "Oh, 's that it? Sweet lil' ting, been worked up all the time 've been gone? Huh?" He gently started to pull up your hoodie over your head, he'd already noticed you hadn't worn anything underneath earlier.

He cooed as you whimpered in reply, you didn't even need to use words. His hands slowly slid up your thigh all the way to your already glistening cunt. "Christ, y'really do want me. Don't think I even need to prep you. Gettin' wet at just the sight of me now?" But he did decide to prep you anyway, finger circling your clit before gently sliding down and into you. The cool metal of his rings on his hand making you shudder, a sigh escaping you. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as your body tensed, breathing heavily against his skin. Squirming as his finger curled inside your dripping entrance. He let you adjust to being stretched out, taking it slow before adding a second finger. Listening to your shaky moans as you got overwhelmed. The sound of your noises filling the room. "Takin' me fingers so well. Knew this gorgeous pussy craved me. You were the only thing on my mind." You loved him, and this moment. Those calloused rough fingers you'd seen him use to play guitar about a million times now stroking your g-spot. You were his 'warmup' as he called it, sometimes using you before a show to get his fingers ready. His thumb came up to rub your clit again, making you squeal. You grinded your hips down, and he took that as a sign you were more then ready. Pulling you into a passionate heated kiss as he slipped his fingers out of you, to quickly pull his sweatpants and boxers down. His throbbing erection springing free, hard and already leaking with precum. The sight of it almost made you want to get on your knees. "See what 'y do to me, baby?" He nudged your legs further apart with his hand, then lined himself up. You writhed as you felt his tip press against your aching slit. He moved to gently gripped your hips, slowly sinking you down. "Ffffuck, Attagirl." You let out a soft whine, always struggling to take him because he was just so big. You swore it felt like he was impaling you, and he liked it. He left a hand on your hips, the other hand wandering up to your chin to force your doe eyes to look at who was fucking you. "Eyes on me, doll. You know the rules." He spoke sweetly, a surprise, considering most of the time it was done harshly in a destroying-your-insides kind of way. This was soft, instead. He purred when you managed to look at him and his thumb soothingly rubbed your face. Starting to slowly thrust up into you as you sputtered out a cry. "Ssshhhh, that's it. Good girl. You can do it." He reassured, as you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling to him. Wanting him to be as close as possible, the sound of your wet cunt slapping against his dick only serving to make you both more turned on. You slowly started riding him on your own, but his other hand on your hips stayed to help lift you so you wouldn't get too tired too quickly, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours as well. "Missed you s'much.." You slurred desperately and he chuckled, observing your eyes as they clouded with lust. "I know, I know you did, sweet thing. Don't worry, I gotcha." Grinding yourself down onto his cock like your life depended on it. Clawing at his back and moaning when his tip hit that perfect spot, sending shudders through your body. He let out a soft grunt, as you clenched around him like a vice. With each piston of his dick, you became more of a mindless thing. He let out a hiss as you continue to weakly lift yourself up and down, and he decided to switch your positions. Quickly pinning you underneath him on the bed and starting a deep pace. "S alright, baby. Relax. You did so well, j'st gonna take care of you now." He whispered into your ear as you wriggled and cried out. "God, your pretty little pussy is so tight. Tryna fuckin' milk me." He kissed down your neck, both hands now gripping her waist.

Your glossed over eyes stared up at him as he pounded into you, feeling him twitch. "Good fuckin' girl. Huh? Gonna let me fill you?" He laughed as you nodded eagerly, too fucked out to form a single thought. He gave one last push, before spilling his seed deep inside you. Panting as he let his head droop against yours, his grunts and groans slowly stopping. You pouted as he pulled out, managing a soft- "Obie? What're you-" as he settled between your legs with a 'Shhh'. Quickly getting to work. You wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him imminently closer to the spot you desperately needed him. His tongue lapped at your wet heat like he was a starving man, unrelenting and desperate. Mewls quickly spilling from your mouth as your slick and his cum dripped down your slit, now mixed with his saliva. You arched your back, already close from just how quickly Hobie had gone from railing you and abusing your cervix to eating you out like nothing else mattered. His tongue, pierced, circled your clit making you practically scream. Your hands scrambled to grip the sheets tightly beside you. "Hobie!" Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you reached that climax, letting out a loud whimper. You could've sworn you were seeing stars as white hot pleasure rushed through you. As you slowly came down from the high, you mumbled gibberish, tears streaming from your eyes. Hobie quickly gave your cunt one last lick before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close, realizing you'd slipped into subspace. Pressing kisses to your sobbing face. "S alright my darlin'. You did so good for me today. So 'appy to be back wit'cha." He whispered in a soft reassuring tone, as you cuddled up to him. Craving his warmth. "I love you so much." He keened and nuzzled into your neck, showing you all the appreciation he knew you needed. He liked nothing better then seeing your little face so out of it. He gently picked you and a water bottle up and carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the counter and grabbing a cloth. Running it under warm water as he cleaned both him and yourself off. Your lips managed to find his, and he smiled and kissed you back. Filling up the water bottle in the mean time and pressing it to your mouth. "Drink." He commanded, though it was gentle. Your boyfriend loved you, and taking care of you was always his priority. "Good. Y'want to go back to bed? 'S pretty late now." "Mhm." You replied quietly, and next thing you knew the water bottle sat on the bedside table next to you and you were wrapped up under the thick fluffy blankets and Hobie. Shutting your eyes as they drooped and silently appreciating having your Spider-Man back home.

[suugarbabe]

Hi lovely, congrats on 1K 🥳💐 you're amazing and deserve all the love.

If you feel inclined to write it, could i request an Enzo fic for your event pls? Like a situationship to an established relationship, where everyone knows reader is basically Enzos girl but theyre not dating and someone takes it as an invitation to challenge him on it because " she's not really yours, is she?". And Enzo kinda just snaps and everyone finds out just why hes a Slytherin.

Thank you for all your time and work love x

If this is shit it's because i'm high but i NEED MORE ENZO REQUESTS PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Warnings: mentions of blood; not proofread

There had yet to be labels, and you were generally fine with it. You knew that he was yours and you were his and that was all that really mattered to you in the long run. It did made some things a little confusing, like when a third year would ask you to Hogsmead and you would politely decline. It was fair enough, you really didn’t technically have a boyfriend, but everyone knew you were Enzo’s. 

So when Cho Chang started very obviously flirting with him after Herbology, you were fuming. He didn’t immediately refuse her advances, you wanted to chalk it up to him just being a genuinely nice person. However, you were not always as nice. You wanted to rip her black stringy hair out of her scalp and choke her with it. You and Enzo were together, everyone knew it. 

Sometimes people took advantage of Enzo being too nice, though. They never really expected him to be in a fight, let alone start one, but you knew he was capable. His reserved anger was one of the things you loved about him, how his possessiveness would just come out without anyone really expecting it and that he would just snap. 

It almost happened once a few months ago, Draco was joking around about taking you back to his dorm after a little group common room party of just your friends. You saw Enzo’s jaw clench and his hand get a little tighter on your thigh and instantly your panties were wet. You had leaned over, assuring him the only bed you wanted to be in was his and he seemed to calm down. 

But his interaction with Cho was perfect ammo to get him to really react. Your original plan was to con one of his friends or maybe some poor fourth year into asking you out, but when Rodger Davies stopped you after dinner, it was like you were given the perfect victim for your plan. 

Rodger caught you by grabbing your wrist as your group of friends passed through the doors of the Great Hall. “Can I steal you for a moment, love?” His tone was smooth and confident as he spoke to you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Enzo’s eyebrows shoot up; at least he was paying attention.

“What’s up, Davies? Need help on your potions homework?” You knew what he really wanted, but playing the innocent girl card would just further push Enzo where you wanted. 

Rodger chucked slightly, “No, darling, I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?” 

“She’s taken, Davies, how about you go bother some other poor girl with your advances,” Enzo had on a sweet smile, but he was gritting his teeth, trying his best to keep that kind facade he was so known for and quickly losing his patience. 

Rodger just smirked, “Is she though?” 

Enzo tongued his cheek, a clear sign he was near his boiling point, “Whadya mean, is she, mate?” 

“I mean, she’s not really yours, is she? She just wets your whistle when you’re lonely and bored, right? A little muckin’ about when you’re both drunk?” Rodger knew he hit a nerve and you could thank him for it. 

Enzo just nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he glanced over at Theo standing next to him. Theo just raised his eyebrows as if to say, the fights yours, mate. Enzo turned back to Rodger in front of you, who had opened his mouth to further egg him on. 

In a blink Rodger had disappeared from sight, you weren’t sure what happened until you saw Enzo kneeling over him on the floor landing blow after blow. You took a step towards the two on the ground when Theo placed a hand on your shoulder, “Give him a minute longer, it’s been a while since he’s had a good reason to fight.” 

So you stood there with Theo, watching Enzo’s large frame hover over Rodger’s as Enzo’s fists landed into Rodgers ribs, then his chin, then the bridge of his nose causing a spray of blood to land across the stone floor. After a second blow to the nose, Theo and Mattheo finally pulled Enzo off his victim. 

You grabbed hold of Enzo’s hand, lacing your fingers and not caring that you were covering your own hand in spots of blood. Enzo was still fuming, but as soon as he felt your touch he turned to look at you. His furrowed brows relaxed and his scowl turned in to an expression of guilt. 

“C’mon Enzie, let’s go get you cleaned up,” he nodded, following you like a puppy as you pulled him along the corridors, down to the dungeons and through your dorm to the bathroom. 

“Sit,” you pointed to the edge of the tub, Enzo immediately following your direction. You grabbed some gauze, walking over and standing between his open legs. You grabbed one of his hands, the other finding solace along the back of your thigh. You began dabbing the gauze against the deeper cuts on his knuckles, assuming he caught them on some of Rodger’s teeth. 

His hands switched positions as you grabbed the other off your leg and dabbed it off as well. “Hands like this,” you held your hands face down in the air in front of you. Again, Enzo followed your instruction, holding out his hands and you grabbed your wand, waving it over and mumbling incantations to slowly close his cuts. 

“Be my girlfriend,” Enzo’s sudden outburst caused you to still, wand still hovering over his hands. You looked up, meeting his eyes and seeing nothing but sencerity. “Enzo, we’re together, everyone knows it,” you tried to keep your voice nonchalant, but truth is you wouldn’t mind the label being added to whatever situationship you had now. 

Enzo shook his head, “Everyone knowing in a roundabout way isn’t good enough, darling, clearly. Be my girlfriend, let me tell everyone you’re mine, officially.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking a step closer, his hands finding place at your hips and giving you a cheeky squeeze.

You laced your fingers behind his neck, pulling his lips down to meet yours. You loved the height difference between you and Enzo, him sitting on the edge of the tub making his face finally even with yours. As his lips slotted against yours the grip he had on your hips tightened.

When you finally pulled away, Enzo had a smile on his face, "Is that a yes, darling?" You nodded, not hiding the grin appearing on your face, "A million times yes."

[theladyofthevarioussorrows]

In honor of Lestat de Lioncourt's 264th birthday, I present to you...

Written in Blood, or the Play in which The Brat Prince Ties the Knot

Part I (of IV)

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles (Gothic horror novel series, 1976-2018); Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (TV series, 2022-present)

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/fem!reader; Lestat de Lioncourt/You

Word count: 3,900+

Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid, the best version…­­­the only one that matters, obviously); fem!reader; The Vampire Armand (lol ouch); Nicolas de Lenfent (even bigger ouch, RIP); Santiago; Estelle; Celeste; Eglee; Sam; Gustav; Quang Pham; pretty much the entire Theatre des Vampires.

Summary: Fem!reader is the newest addition to the Theatre des Vampires, and Lestat becomes smitten with her (of course he does, the little whore!). Lestat’s allure, charm, beauty, and viciousness are not lost on the reader, and she falls for him (I mean, who wouldn’t, let’s be honest). With fem!reader being the freshest member of the Coven, Santiago “initiates” her (similar to how he brought Claudia in) by casting her as Lestat’s co-star in the next play as his love interest. The play, overseen reluctantly by Armand is about a wedding (in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, or something similar but accurate to the time period, that is the vibe…Lestat, little miss Lady Macbeth himself, “barely Balthazar” Armand, “too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius” Santiago, and I are all Shakespeare girlies, so I thought it would make sense); fem!reader and Lestat are actually getting legally married, unbeknownst to the mortal audience. Fem!reader and Lestat are to be the bride and groom, Santiago is the Justice of the Peace, and the rest of the TDV are the wedding party. While Armand is still the Coven leader, he “directs” the play and Nicki leads the orchestra. Things do not go the way they were planned to go (in Armand’s case); a story of love, sex, and vampire drama unfolds.

Warnings and additional tags: New/eventual relationship, established relationship, smut (P in V), fluff, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, (F and M), oral sex (F and M receiving), all characters (except the reader, duh) are written to be as close to the way they are in the books as well as the show to the best of my ability, reader-insert, reader-interactive, use of Y/N, Lestat gives the reader pet names in French (this is Lestat, after all), mutual pining, flirting, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism (is anything Lestat does really a secret? No, not really), blood drinking, blood sucking, bloodletting, biting, gore, violence, murder (feeding on humans is the only instance of this), both Lestat and fem!reader are bisexual, age gap (fem!reader is younger than Lestat by at least a bit but it doesn’t really matter as much because he himself is a new-ish vampire; Lestat would still be somewhere in his thirties in mortal years by the show’s timeline), Lestat is very seductive and persuasive (fem!reader doesn’t need much persuading, so it’s not a bad thing), a bunch of mentions of Shakespeare, lines from As You Like It are in italics and dialogue from vampires using the Mind Gift are in bold italics.

Notes: This story takes place while Lestat is still performing with the Theatre des Vampires and is newly a vampire himself. Magnus is obviously dead by now (thank God). The events of this fic take place after Lestat breaks up with both Nicki (he is still alive at this point in time) and Armand, but before he meets Louis de Pointe du Lac and later Claudia. I don’t have anything against either character (I adore both greatly!), this is just a “what if?” kind of situation. This is a basic idea I had had for literal years ever since I read the books, but I didn’t do anything with it until the second season of the show started, specifically episode 10. I wasn’t immune to Harlequin Lestat, and I was FERAL about it. Sam Reid only made that worse for me (God, I am so in love with him…that man IS Lestat. He doesn’t just play him, he BECAME him, and no one else has come close. Tom Cruise and Stuart Townsend could NEVER!). The premise of the fic came to me while listening to “Written in Blood” by She Wants Revenge…one thing led to another, and here we are! Also, yes, I KNOW the vampires don’t “have sex” in the novels, but they do in the show (a LOT). I might make references to things that have happened in the books (mostly Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, possibly a bit of Queen of the Damned) but might not have been shown in the TV series yet, so reader beware of that. Let this be the spoiler warning if you are not familiar with the books or haven’t watched the show. I am completely ignoring both movies, because they mean absolutely nothing to me now that the (far superior) show exists. The piece that fem!reader uses for her audition comes from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It…she is reading as Rosalind while disguised as Ganymede, and Lestat reads with her as Orlando. I thought the parallels were a nice touch. I obviously do not own the rights to As You Like It, I merely used the one scene for Y/N’s audition, and to add romantic and dramatic effect. Special shout out to my best friend Riley for their contribution and ideas!

Language: English (except for a handful of pet names and expressions used by Lestat in French, hopefully I did it correctly. I took 4 years of French in high school, but I am not fluent)

_________________________________________

It was a cool autumn night in Paris, and while mortals slept, the undead were busy welcoming their newest member to their coven inside the old auditorium. The Vampire Armand stood proudly in front of the stage, looking up at the Theatre’s founder and poster child Lestat de Lioncourt, giving him notes and stage directions he knows full well Lestat will not listen to. Next to Lestat was Y/F/N Y/L/N, a freshly turned vampire herself.

Today was Y/N’s audition to join the Theatre des Vampires, and although nervous, she felt at home already among the other thespians in the room with her. With her lifelong love of theatre and literature that only intensified in her newly immortal life, Y/N knew she was in good company. She caught herself stealing glances at Lestat, as if against her will, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. Of all the vampires in this room—the stage director and Coven leader Armand, fellow company members Eglee, Celeste, Estelle, Sam, Gustav, and Quang Pham in the seats, as well as the gifted violinist Nicki hiding in the wings—there is something captivating and enchanting about this charismatic blonde actor. Y/N felt immediately attracted to this man, and she was both alarmed by and pleased with this sudden revelation. Lestat could feel Y/N’s attraction to him, something he found adorable, endearing, distracting, and quite arousing. Lestat gazed at her, a charmingly wicked smile on his face as he admired the young vampire in front of him. Armand, annoyed but pushing the uneasy feeling down, turned to look at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Theatre, dear Y/N. The Coven and I are interested as to how you found yourself in Paris, and how you found us. Please, enlighten everyone,” Armand said, with a slight air of both curiosity and mild arrogance rolled together. Y/N quickly moved her glance from Lestat to Armand and shivered slightly before she answered.

“Hello all, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was visiting when I was given the Dark Gift. I have been in Paris ever since. I heard about the Theatre through my maker, and through discovering the Theatre, I found out about the Coven.” As she told the truth, she felt Santiago staring daggers at her, full of amusement.

“So, little miss Y/L/N, it seems as though you enjoy the arts, is that right?” said Santiago, with a slithery snark. Y/N nodded her head. “A birdie told me that you’re auditioning with one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, yes?” Y/N nodded again. Lestat’s blueish violet eyes widened as he grinned a little bigger.

“Yes, I will be reading as Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. I hope you find it suitable,” she said politely, trying to stifle a small tinge of laughter. Santiago exaggerated his giggle to mock her slightly before speaking again.

“Hmm, I assume you would like to have someone read with you. I wonder who that could be…” Santiago’s voice trailed off as he shifted his glance from Y/N to the left of her.

The slender, blonde, and devilishly handsome vampire beside Y/N spoke before she could even have the thought to respond. Watching from the wings, the violinist Nicki put a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan.

“I volunteer myself. I know the play by heart,” said Lestat. He shot Y/N a soft but sly grin as he placed his hand on his chest, reeling in the blush that appeared on her face. Armand had to hold back a scoff as Lestat offered to read with her. “I’m quite curious to see how she does, if I may.” Lestat gently bowed as he spoke to her, with a smile on his face and intrigue in his heart. Lestat was many things, and subtle was not one of them. Y/N nodded, smiling slyly back at him.

“You may,” Y/N said, bowing slightly. Her cheeks cast a rosy glow upon them as she smiled. Santiago chuckled to himself, and Armand choked down another scoff as he looked back to Y/N and Lestat.

“As you wish. Lestat, you will read with Y/N as Orlando, starting from his entrance after Jaques exits the scene. Y/N, you will follow.” Armand crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two vampires in front of him on the stage.

“Yes, maître,” said Y/N, slightly nervous but strangely excited about reading alongside this hauntingly tempting creature next to her. She got herself into character quickly, trying to fight off the thought of how sweet Lestat’s blood might taste on her tongue and how soft his full lips must be, among various other salacious and primal things that she wasn’t aware of that she needed or wanted. It wasn’t an unwelcome thing—Lestat had something disarmingly attractive about him. Y/N felt drawn to him somehow, but she tried in vain to hide it. Lestat cleared his throat and prepared himself as well, his own pale skin turning a faint pink as they moved to the middle of the stage. Butterflies fluttered inside their bodies as they began their scene. After a few seconds of silence passed, Lestat launched into character.

“My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.” Lestat said, remembering the lines from memory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite her nervousness and giddiness, Y/N began herself.

“Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.” Y/N matched Lestat’s intensity and focus as she spoke her lines. Astonished by her delivery, he carried on with his own lines.

“Pardon me, dear Rosalind,” continued Lestat, feeling a rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach, the pleasant sensation only growing stronger as she went on. Lestat watched her as she moved effortlessly through her audition, overcome with awe, very nearly stumbling on his own lines as a result. Armand and Santiago watched from the bottom of the stage as Y/N and Lestat kept going.

Armand watched from the front row and noticed Lestat’s immediate and oddly natural chemistry with Y/N and was well aware of the subtle attraction and quiet infatuation she felt towards Lestat. Armand could feel it through her, and it bothered him. He couldn’t help it; he began to feel his face turn green with envy. Santiago, however, was greatly amused at what was unfolding in front of them—and he relished the drama of it all. The rest of the Coven watched from the seats intently, some engrossed, some unbothered. Nicki leaned up against the wall backstage, a pained expression etched on his features. Looking on at his former lover floating across the stage with a woman whom he had only met mere hours ago and watching her fall under his spell just as he had, Nicki shook his head, a grimace forming on his face.

With all due respect, maître…maybe we should keep an eye on the new one, said Santiago, filling Armand’s head with his thoughts without moving his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before our dear founder tries to take her to bed with him…you know as well as I do how he is. And seeing how she’s looking at him—Armand did not want to hear this. Lestat and Y/N were too immersed in their scene and lost in each other to hear them through their own minds.

Armand cut him off. Enough, Santiago. I know very well how Lestat operates. Let them finish. I’ll allow Y/N to continue, for now. We shall decide what measures to take when the time is right… As Armand and Santiago sized Y/N up, she breezed through her audition.

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind?” Y/N continued as she blushed and smiled at Lestat. Anything he did in his impromptu performance, she followed with masterful skill.

Lestat slowly walked closer to her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Lestat looked at Y/N, smirking as he brushed some of his long blonde hair behind his ear. He let the silence expand for a second before he continued.

“I would kiss before I spoke.”

Lestat and Y/N gazed at each other as if they were the only beings in the room, amusing Santiago morbidly and annoying Armand profoundly. A mixture of admiration and a deep hunger formed inside Lestat’s chest, and Y/N’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She gulped quietly as she tried to keep up with Lestat. Determined to give the best audition she could despite having to act opposite the most gorgeous creature she has ever laid her eyes on, alive or dead, Y/N tried to fight off her own desire building within her. Soft gasps could be heard from the other vampires watching them from the seats.

“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Sensing Y/N’s struggle to maintain her composure, Lestat met her energy with his own words. “How if the kiss be denied?” He looked at her for a beat, cocking his head to one side quizzically. Y/N answered him with a playful shrug.

“Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”

Lestat continued his teasing, delighted by the thrill Y/N gave him. “Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”

Y/N pretended to scoff. “Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.”

Lestat looked at Y/N with a look of mock surprise. “What, of my suit?” he said, his voice harboring a more sensual tone this time.

“Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind?” Y/N floated across the stage like a ghost, every single movement calculated and carried out so smoothly.

“I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.” Lestat’s face reddened slightly as he noticed how Y/N’s jaw dropped, but only for a second before she kept going.

“Well, in her person I say I will not have you.” Y/N let out an exaggerated giggle as she playfully spun around slowly.

A dramatic sigh escaped Lestat’s lungs. “Then in mine own person I die.” He looked back at Y/N as she turned to face him again.

“By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it.” Y/N gazed at the vampire in front of her, only inches separating them now. Lestat reached out to gently caress Y/N’s cheek as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, making her blush even more obvious in her face now. He has her right where he wants her, and as fate or some other mystical thing would have it, Y/N is right where she wants to be. Once again, Lestat drew the silence out for a beat too long before he spoke.

“Then love me, Rosalind.”

Y/N’s voice trembled a little as she leaned into Lestat’s touch. His unbroken focus on her made her feel slightly faint just from the way he looked at her, but she kept her cool as best as she could. “Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.” She shyly smiled up at him, trying and failing to hide her quiet swooning.

Lestat hung on to every word that left her lips as if he had never heard such language spoken before. Of course, he was no stranger to the stage himself, having been the Theatre’s main selling point for a few years now. The act of performing on a stage in front of an enamored audience always thrilled him, but she…she was different. This new and sudden but pleasant feeling cut him way deeper, hit him harder—he knew that she was something magical. And Lestat wasn’t quite sure where to put that desire and hunger, so he decided to do the thing he does best: he needed to have her all to himself, by any means necessary. Lestat was delighted to find that the feeling was so clearly mutual.

Santiago watched Lestat enchant Y/N as they continued with their performances. He gasped quietly as he saw Lestat become smitten with Y/N, rolling his eyes. Just look at those two! Can you believe them? They’ve made eyes at each other from the second she came through the door. They’ve only just met a few hours ago and he’s looking at her like Venus de Milo herself…and she looks as if she’s about to melt through the floor. Armand found himself becoming more and more annoyed as Lestat and Y/N carried on like they were, and Santiago took notice. Maître, you’re grinding your teeth…

Armand huffed quietly. I said let them continue. Y/N is smarter than we realize. If she doesn’t know who she’s getting herself tied up with, she will. I can guarantee that. Armand maintained his mildly annoyed expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. I see potential in her. We can use that potential.

Santiago, ever the drama queen but also the suck-up, tried to push Armand’s buttons. How shall we do that, maître? I wonder what our violinist has to say about this…I can’t imagine he’s especially thrilled about—

Armand cut him off once again. Be silent now, Santiago. Nicki is the least of my worries right now.

Now mildly aware of the growing discomfort in the pit of Armand’s stomach and Santiago’s antagonizing of him, Lestat continued to read with Y/N. He was enraptured by her, this was true—but he also found quite a bit of amusement in making Armand uncomfortable. Y/N, less aware of the effect her performance is having on the Coven leader and his all-too-willing sidekick, matched him masterfully.

“And wilt thou have me?” said Lestat, sultry and low.

Y/N nodded her head and smiled. “Ay, and twenty such.”

Lestat felt his heart flutter in his chest as he moved closer to her. “What sayest thou?”

Y/N gently bit her lip then let it go with a smirk. “Are you not good?”

“I hope so.” Lestat rolled his eyes in a sassy manner.

“Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?” Y/N went on, closing the small space between herself and Lestat.

The vaguely pained expression did not escape Armand’s face. Still wanting to maintain some sort of order and power over his Coven, Armand kept his focus fixed on the two vampires on the stage in front of him.

Santiago, an evil grin taking shape over his features, watched Lestat and Y/N’s bond become deeper by the second as Y/N continued. “Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando.” Y/N gently reached for Lestat’s hand, and he placed it in hers, tangling their fingers together. She looked to where the audience would be sitting. “What do you say sister?” Y/N looked back up at Lestat as he gazed back at her, their vampire eyes blown out with love and desire for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Lestat put his finger under Y/N’s chin and gingerly tilted her head up. He started to move down to press his lips to hers, and she moved up to meet him. He closed his eyes, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips gently—

A groan could be heard from Armand as Santiago abruptly rose from his seat and applauded loudly. Lestat and Y/N snapped out of their trance and pulled away from each other, no longer able to hide their blushing. The rest of the Coven began to applaud as well. The vampires Sam and Gustav were enthusiastic in their encouragement of the new potential member of the Coven and her undeniable and palpable chemistry with their Theatre’s founder. Celeste looked on with a proud smile on her face, while Estelle clapped wildly. Eglee rolled her eyes before eventually joining in with her applause. Backstage, Nicki shook his head again as he quietly left the auditorium, quietly cursing under his breath.

“Very well done, Y/N. Very well done indeed,” said Santiago, sounding giddier than he probably should. He looked at Armand. “What say you, maître?” he asked with mock amusement.

Armand once again did not listen. He looked up at Y/N as Lestat released her from his gentle but bold embrace. “Exquisite work, Y/N. Exceptional. While we evaluate your performance, you are welcome to remain here with the Coven. We have provided a coffin for you near your maker’s.” Armand started to dismiss everyone before he turned back to Y/N. “We do expect you to keep our hours, curfew is three o’clock sharp.” He shot a subtle but menacing glare at Lestat. Lestat rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he turned his back to him. Armand looked at Y/N again. Lestat smiled warmly at Y/N as he winked at her.

Still reeling from everything that just occurred, Y/N nodded and bowed. “Yes maître, I will. Thank you all.” Armand dismissed Santiago and the rest of the Coven, and they all left the auditorium.

It was then that Y/N heard a sensual and seductive voice inside her head.

Très bien fait, ma chérie. I’m impressed.

Y/N turned around to find Lestat leaning against the piano on the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, looking her up and down, dripping with genuine curiosity and insatiable desire. She blushed and smiled as she met his gaze.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Lestat. It really means a lot to hear.” Y/N walked over to him, slightly nervous but not at all deterred. “You were amazing yourself.”

Lestat rolled his eyes playfully at her compliment but accepted it. “You flatter me, mon amour.” He stood up straight and walked over to her, looking down at her with that softly sly smirk again. “I must say, my dear Y/N, you are quite the actress. Many have come and gone from this theatre, but none have bewitched me so like you have, ma petite fleur.”

Y/N swooned at his words, slightly taken aback by the sincerity in them despite the obvious attraction. “Oh, you’re too kind. It’s not often I’m in the presence of someone so…” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes again—something she has by now realized is very easy to do—before she continued. “So…enchanting as you.”

Lestat chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Well, you have captivated me too, love,” he said, pausing briefly as he took the sight of her in. “I haven’t seen such talent on this stage in quite some time, Y/N.” She blushed deeper as she took a second to gather her thoughts. Y/N sighed softly before speaking.

“Thank you! I’m just happy that I can finally do what I love to do. Up until today, I thought it was unfortunate that I couldn’t do this kind of thing when I was mortal, but I don’t have that feeling now that I’m here. In an odd way, it feels right like this.” Y/N chuckled lightly.

Lestat listened to her words intently. “I know that feeling very well, mon coeur. For what it’s worth, I’m quite glad you wandered into our midst. I can see already that you’re passionate about the Theatre, and it’s refreshing. You’re simply lovely.” Y/N smiled at his words of admiration and encouragement. “I cannot wait to see what other talents you possess, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the slight drop of her jaw. Noticing the positive tension on her face, Lestat spoke gently to her. “Oh, and don’t be nervous, chérie. There is nothing to be afraid of. I have no doubt you’ll fit in here, I am sure of it.” He traced her jawline affectionately before tilting her head up to bring her eyes to meet his, just like he did during her audition. “And, if I may be so bold, I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll have me, of course.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she swooned. She nodded as she stuttered slightly.

“I’d love to, Lestat. I would be honored.” Y/N felt her heart jump into her mouth. The gorgeous blonde vampire in front of her reveled in how flustered she looked as he spoke to her.

“Very well then, dear Y/N. We’ll continue our little conversation after your initiation tomorrow.”

Y/N gulped. “My…my what?!”

Lestat giggled slyly. “You heard me correctly, ma chérie. Welcome to the Theatre, darling. You’re one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

“But…Armand said—” Lestat gently placed a finger over her lips to shut her up as he spoke lowly to her, sultry and dripping with desire.

“Shh, ma jolie fille…never mind what that manipulative gremlin Armand said.” Lestat let his finger gently drag across her bottom lip before letting it go. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear as he continued. “I’ll be seeing you backstage afterwards, yes?”

There was no way for him to be coy about his appetite for her any more than he had earlier. The vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, the Brat Prince himself, was anything but shy about his unquenchable thirst for Y/N; it only grew exponentially in the few hours since he met her.

Y/N felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as she nodded. “Of course, Lestat. You will.” She smiled at him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Lestat smiled wickedly at her again. “Très bien, mon amour. I’ll see you then.” He caressed her face again before turning to walk away. “Bonne nuit, ma belle. Sweet dreams.”

Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she smiled. “Good night, Lestat. I hope you sleep well.” Blushing, she beamed at him, and he smiled back, a blush of his own on his face.

With that, they left the room. As she lifted the lid to her coffin next to the others to crawl inside it, Y/N gasped as she heard Lestat’s voice in her head again, stopping her momentarily.

Remember what I told you, ma petite fleur. There is nothing to worry your pretty little head with. And know this too, my darling: I don't bite...hard.

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

something that has bothered me about tua seasons 2-4 is the inconsistency of the relationships between the siblings.

starting with klaus, in season 1 ben and diego were his people. ben and klaus were always shown together in the flashbacks to them as kids and obviously every second of the show because klaus was the only one who could see him. but like… they were CLOSE. SO FUCKING CLOSE. they were the most SIBLINGS of all the siblings.

that continued into season 2. ben was randomly a bit colder towards klaus but they were still so fucking close.

and then ben left, and klaus for the first time was alone without his person. everyone else lost a brother when they were 17, except klaus. so he had to grieve ben for the first time. that didn’t happen, though. there were many nods to them being close, and then of course steve blackman pulled a steve blackman which means weird unnecessary incest implications, but it wasn’t clear just how close klaus and brellie ben were even though it had to be hard to be around someone who looked like ben and was kind of ben but also wasn’t ben.

and with diego, it also seemed like he and klaus were incredibly close. diego older-brothered klaus constantly s1 and they gave off the impression that they ran into each other a lot in the city during the years since leaving the academy.

then they completely disregarded it for the rest of the seasons. in s2 and s3 there a few interactions that could lend credence to this but for the most part it seemed like they threw it out the window.

allison and klaus had no clear relationship in season 1. they had some incredibly minor sibling interactions but nothing that indicated they were anywhere near as close as they imply in season 4. season 2 they were close and then season 3 not a lot of interaction. but s4 makes it seem like they have always been incredibly close which doesn’t make sense!!

five and viktor have a relatively consistent friendship, although s4 doesn’t really give viktor any relationship development with his siblings. same with five, if anything he just gets his relationships destroyed but that’s a different post!!

allison and viktor also are pretty consistently close. the implication is that they weren’t as kids but that they really try to be as adults, and i do like their relationship overall.

luther and allison nasty ew kill it with fire. like i thought we established in s2 that incest is weird actually and that we weren’t doing that and then season 3 came along and whatever whatever shut up.

diego and luther’s relationship is fun. they go from adversaries to himbo besties and it’s relatively consistent.

luther and viktor have similar growth. luther goes from piece of shit basically causing the apocalypse s1 because of how shitty he was to viktor towards really wanting to make things right and being the big brother he always should have been. they didn’t really have a relationship s4 but WHATEVER.

i feel like five and luther were together a lot the first two seasons and that very much changed. i’m not even that upset as i think five having character arcs with each sibling is good since he missed so many years with them (other than him and viktor they were always close and should have remained that way).

i think allison and diego and viktor and diego having relationship development would have been cool. in the comics viktor and diego have a band so we know they’re friends. and in the show allison and diego don’t have too many interactions but the ones they do have are SOOOO SIBLING and i adore that.

ben and viktor have some closeness s3-4 (and the end of s2) but it’s not really something we see, more so we’re just told. and then random flashback to them hanging out as kids before the mission which was confusing.

i think five and klaus were done the dirtiest with the relationship inconsistency. i understand wanting different characters to have arcs with different people, but when you sacrifice the established relationships and basically put your characters on shuffle then you also sacrifice character consistency, development, growth, etc.

i think a big problem is how many characters they brought on last season. there wasn’t time for consistent relationships among the brellies when they had to use a shit ton of time building new characters and relationships (and immediately killing them all off which was A Choice).

anyway just wanted to write out thoughts about this. would love to know other people’s thoughts (or headcanons about the siblings).

[modern-gremlin]

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

[writingwithfolklore]

Relationships and Closeness

              There’s two kinds of relationships in a story—the bond your characters have with each other, and the bond the reader has with your characters. Try to push the relationship to levels of vulnerability too fast, too soon and both types will come off as forced or stiff.

              Luckily, there’s a helpful tool for categorizing what ‘stage’ of closeness people have with each other from communications theory, but I think could also be used for writing. It’s called (and stick with me here), the social penetration theory. (Cue that Pitch Perfect gif)

              The stages (generally) go as follows:

1. Orientation

This stage is basic, safe information you might initially share with a stranger. Name, age, maybe pronouns, where you’re from, where you go to school or work, etc.

2. Exploratory affective

This is likes and dislikes, some preferences, and other safe opinions. You’re probably not getting into politics too much yet, but you might share which class is your favourite, what you think about where you live, etc. Typically opinions you’d think are unlikely to offend the other person.

3. Affective

This stage sounds like it is—an increase in affection! This can look like making jokes or goofing around together, sharing goals and aspirations, and generally being a bit more familiar. Typically your work friends or peers get to this stage, and unless you hang out with them outside of work/school, (in my experience) they stay at this stage too.

4. Stable

You start to get more comfortable and share more personal details. Religious/political affiliation, sexuality, sometimes family details and other things about your inner life are shared here.

5. Depenetration (ew)

This stage is the last and the most vulnerable. This is where you share deeply held fears, fantasies, traumas, mental health, and other deeply personal details. Can include your own concept of self, or conversations that go into that depth of individual humanity—what makes you, you on a fundamental level?

              Some relationships stop at an earlier level than others, but that doesn’t make them less strong. Have you ever met someone where you don’t really know all that much about them, but you’d still stick up for them against anything? Versus someone you’ve known forever and you’ve shared all your insecurities with, but you still might prefer to hang out with someone else on your birthday.

              These stages are a guideline, not a rule, to how people tend to interact and the order of which they tend to share with each other. That doesn’t mean that people won’t jump to one stage before another—just that it can sometimes be unreciprocated, or feel a bit uncomfortable. It all depends on the situation and the people within it.

              However, it can be helpful to use these guidelines as a guide to what to share and when in your writing. Right away, you’d probably tell readers your main character’s name before their deepest trauma—or maybe not, maybe you’d establish your character with that openness to the reader right off the bat. What’s important is that you determine what level your character is at with others, and with the reader, and move through them with intention.

              I hope this makes sense!

[asterlark]

me and den @unloneliest were just talking about murderbot and ART's relationship and i want to discuss how they quite literally complete each other's sensory and emotional experience of the world!!

there's a few great posts on here such as this one about how murderbot uses drones to fully and properly experience the world around it (it also accesses security cameras/other systems for this same purpose). but i haven't seen anyone so far talk about how once MB stops working for the company and consequently doesn't have a hubsystem/secsystem to connect to anymore (which for its entire existence up to that point had been how it was used to interacting with its environment/doing its job), after it meets ART, ART starts to fill that gap.

ART gives MB access to more cameras, systems, and information archives than it would normally be able to connect with while MB is on its own outside of ART's... body(? lol), but also directly gives MB access to its own cameras, drones, archives, facilities, and processing space. additionally, so much of ART's function is dedicated to analysis, lateral thinking, and logical reasoning, and it not only uses those skills in service of reaching murderbot's goals, it teaches murderbot how to use those same skills. (ART might be a bit of an asshole about how it does this, but that doesn't negate just how much it does for murderbot for no reason other than it's bored/interested in MB as an individual.)

we all love goofing about how artificial condition can basically be boiled down to "two robots in a trench coat trying to get through a job interview" (which is entirely accurate tbh) but that's also such a great example of ART fulfilling the role of both murderbot's "hubsystem" and "secsystem", allowing it to fully experience its environment/ succeed in its goals. ART provides MB with crucial information, context, and constructive criticism, and uses its significant processing power to act as MB's backup and support system while they work together.

from ART's side of things, we get a very explicit explanation of how it needs the context of murderbot's emotional reactions to media in order to fully understand and experience the media as intended. it tried to watch media with its humans, and it didn't completely understand just by studying their reactions. but when it's in a feed connection with murderbot, who isn't human but has human neural tissue, ART is finally able to thoroughly process the emotional aspects of media (side note, once it actually understands the emotional stakes in a way that makes sense for it, it's so frightened by the possibility of the fictional ship/crew in worldhoppers being catastrophically injured or killed that it makes murderbot pause for a significant amount of time before it feels prepared to go on. like!! ART really fucking loves its crew, that is all).

looking at things further from ART's perspective: its relationship with murderbot is ostensibly the very first relationship it's been able to establish with not only someone outside of its crew, but also with any construct at all. while ART loves its crew very much (see previous point re: being so so scared for the fate of the fictional crew of worldhoppers), it never had a choice in forming relationships with them. it was quite literally programmed to build those relationships with its crew and students. ART loves its function, its job, and nearly all of the humans that spend time inside of it, but its relationship with murderbot is the first time it's able to choose to make a new friend. that new friend is also someone who, due to its partial machine intelligence, is able to understand and know ART on a whole other level of intimacy that humans simply aren't capable of. (that part goes for murderbot, too, obviously; ART is its first actual friend outside of the presaux team, and its first bot friend ever.)

and because murderbot is murderbot, and not a "nice/polite to ART most of the time" human, this is also one of the first times that ART gets real feedback from a friend about the ways that its actions impact others. after the whole situation in network effect, when the truth of the kidnapping comes to light and murderbot hides in the bathroom refusing to talk to ART (and admittedly ART doesn't handle this well lol) - ART is forced to confront that despite it making the only call it felt able to make in that horrifying situation, despite it thinking that that was the right call, its actions hurt murderbot, and several other humans were caught in the crossfire. what's most scary to ART in that moment is the idea that murderbot might never forgive it, might never want to talk to it again. it's already so attached to this friendship, so concerned with murderbot's wellbeing, that the thought of that friendship being over because of its own behavior is terrifying. (to me, this almost mirrors murderbot's complete emotional collapse when it thinks that ART has been killed. the other more overt mirror is ART fully intending on bombing the colony to get murderbot back.)

in den's words, they both increase the other's capacity to feel: ART by acting as a part of murderbot's sensory system, and murderbot by acting as a means by which ART can access emotion. they love one another so much they would do pretty much anything to keep each other safe/avenge each other, but what's more, they unequivocally make each other more whole.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Carnal

AN: Everybody thank Lollapalooza Hyunjin for forcibly dragging me out of my writing rut and making me post again. Also, thanks to Sam @souplix for listening to my stressed, horny thoughts and feelings about him lol.

Synopsis: You have a very rude awakening about how sweaty Hyunjin makes you feel.

Tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mentions of Hyunjin going to the gym/working out and how his body has changed because of that, one brief mention of possessiveness, Reader is shorter than Hyunjin and there is no plot here.

Smut tags and warnings: Reader is down catastrophic (she's just like me fr), scent kink, sweat kink, lots of mentions of sweat and scent basically lol, lots of licking and biting (both giving and receiving), implied strength kink, mentions of bruises, sex in Reader's kitchen, some pussy play (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), throatfucking (m. receiving), one mention of hentai, kissing post oral sex, dirty talk, some manhandling, Reader is lifted briefly, piv sex without a condom, praise (f. receiving), usage of petnames, creampie, hints of overstimulation, a brief mention of tears, mentions of Hyunjin being clawed at, mentions of pussy eating and implied cum eating.

Word count: 3.3k

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

It's stupid. So incredibly stupid.

You don't know why your brain and body have chosen today to make such a big deal out of your very attractive, very sweaty boyfriend but, they've decided now was apparently the appropriate time to conspire against you. Maybe you can blame this on ovulation. Maybe if you check your calendar, the desire you feel clawing at your gut watching him chug water from his bottle and the way his white shirt clings to his broad back will all make total sense.

When did he get so broad, anyway? You feel like you just blinked and suddenly he was all muscles and strength and you're trying really hard not to think of that one he pressed you so hard into your mattress that your thighs were littered with bruises afterwards–

“Are you okay?” His concerned voice violently shakes you out of the memories that were fogging up your brain. Oh. Oh, it's so much worse being faced with him directly. Who the fuck goes to the gym in a white shirt? Doesn't he see the way it's sticking to his drenched torso? Is he just that unaware of how sweaty of a person he is? Does he not care? You shove down the twinge of possessiveness that flares up at the idea of anyone getting to look at him while he looks this hot.

“Hmm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?” You pray to whatever higher power is listening that the breathy quality of your voice is only evident to you.

The knowing look that dawns on his handsome face lets you know that the higher powers aren't on your side today.

You've been in love with Hyunjin for far, far longer than the two of you have been together and you know it's way too soon to tell him that. However, it's moments like this that make you question your feelings because the smugness rolling off of him in waves as he sets down his bottle and stalks his way over to you is so insufferable. It's hard to maintain your annoyed exterior when he's so close to you and his scent is all around you. You think your ovulation hypothesis might have been correct because it's so fucking absurd that your mouth starts to water just from smelling him and his damp chest being a few centimetres from your face.

“I'm not sure why,” he starts and the gravelly quality of his voice shoots straight to the apex of your thighs. He doesn't stop, though. Pressing you further into your kitchen counter while his hands burn a trail from your thighs to your hips, your oversized shirt shifting up in the process, “but, you look like you want to devour me right now.”

The whimper that escapes your throat is beyond pathetic but, apparently that's all he needs before pouncing. The wind is knocked out of the moment his mouth descends onto yours. His hands give your hips a sharp squeeze before drifting to your ass. Kneading it while his tongue and teeth leave you a mess. All you can think to do is grasp onto his biceps for some sort of lifeline. The muscles and veins underneath your palms don't help the state of pussy in the slightest. The sheer ferocity of the want you feel for him right is a little terrifying. He could ask you to do anything right now and you doubt you'd find it within you to say no.

You swallow down the frustrated whine that threatens to bubble out of you when he pulls his mouth away from you. He doesn't keep you waiting for long, though. Kissing his way along your jaw until his full lips begin showering your neck with licks and nips. If he has any complaints about the way your nails dig into his biceps, he doesn't make them known. God, it's like you can feel your sanity crumbling with every kiss he presses into you and every millisecond you spend surrounded by his dizzying scent. This is quite the way to discover you're apparently really into your boyfriend when he's covered in sweat.

He departs from your neck with one, final kiss. Meeting your lidded gaze with an electrifying one of his own. Frankly, with the way he's looking at you right now, you're not sure why he hasn't tugged down his sweats and shoved his cock into you. It's clear as day that that's what you both want. Then again, your boyfriend being ever the giving romantic typically isn't one to let you feel him until he's made you cum with his fingers and/or mouth at least once. Which you do love but, you're pretty sure if he doesn't sink his cock into you right now, you might die actually. You're sure you're more than wet enough.

As if reading your mind, one of his hands drift to your inner thighs and, of course, you spread them for him. Your breath stills in your lungs when his fingertips brush against your soaked folds. “Fuck,” he hisses, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see one his veins tick. Honestly, if you weren't so delirious just from a few, light strokes of his fingers, you'd happily be licking at it. “How are you so wet already?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours briefly and, the intensity in them makes it infinitely harder to breath, before his attention is focused back on watching his fingers toy with you.

“It's not my fault you're so hot,” you mean to say that as a half-joke but, the sheer desire in your tone makes any attempt at humour fall flat. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat. His fingers trace your slick folds with practised ease. He even has the nerve to grin against your lips when your hips jump as his fingers add pressure to your neglected clit. You're so relieved that you have your counter there to support you because you're certain your legs would have given out ages ago. He greedily swallows every noise he pulls from you with his mouth and his fingers. Quiet gasps, needy moans and pitchy keens all find their way into his awaiting mouth while his stupidly long fingers continue to toy with you. You're so wet that you can feel it dripping onto your thighs and, you're sure his fingers are thoroughly coated in it too. A thought that prompts you to kiss him harder and impatiently tug at one of the causes of all of this madness in the first place.

“Off,” you impatiently demand against his plump lips, shoving his shirt up his slick torso. His responding laugh is obnoxious but he does oblige your request without much fanfare. Tugging off his shirt and discarding it somewhere on your kitchen floor. Honestly, you're not sure what's worse: when the stupid shirt was clinging to him or having his bare, sweaty chest right there for you to have your way with. Fuck. You should ask him to drop by after his workouts more often. Raw, carnal desire propels you forward. Pulling him into a kiss that's more spit and teeth than anything. Delighting in the hardness you can feel prodding at your stomach and the groans of pleasure that spill from him while you tug on his damp locks. While this is nice, you have other plans in mind.

You've probably explored his body hundreds of times at this point but, you don't think you'll ever grow tired of feeling the way he reacts to your every touch. Smiling into his lips when his muscles jump underneath your fingertips. Your walls fluttering around nothing when his whimpers hit your eardrums as you tease his sensitive nipples. Burning every part of him you can into your memory all over again. Fingers mapping paths they've travelled thousands of times before but, it never quite feels like enough. This time around, he's the first one to pull away for air. Your kitchen is filled with nothing but the sounds of your respective laboured breathing and the habitual drones from your various appliances.

Your mouth finds his throat and the salty taste of his skin shoots straight to your clit. Hyunjin is a sweaty man. This isn't a secret. However, you're not sure what's changed so drastically today that makes his sweat almost an aphrodisiac to you. You find yourself chasing as much of his taste as you can. Licking his neck until it's a mess of spit and sweat while your skilled hands hurriedly pull at the waistband of his sweats. Whether it's because he's just as lost in all of this as you are or because he wants you to, he doesn't stop you from pooling his sweats and boxers around his thighs. He's scorching, slick and hard in the palm of your hand.

It's a delirious feeling the way he quivers beneath your every touch. His pulse jumping underneath your tongue with every lazy stroke you give him. He doesn't let you touch him like this as often as you'd like. He's giving and so deeply focused on your pleasure to a fault so, you always savour moments like this whenever they arise. Mouthing at his neck and toying with cock just further stoke the flames of arousal lashing at your gut but, it's not enough.

An idea springs to your mind and your pussy throbs just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Hyunjin is too distracted with trying to fuck your hand and paw at your ass to notice anything is going on until you're on your knees. The floor is cold and you can already tell your knees are going to hurt later but, you can't bring yourself to care when he gives you a look that's equal parts confusion and lust. It's so fucking unfair that he still manages to look so cute while his cock is centimetres from your face and your hand is covered in him.

“What–” his question is cut off by a strangled moan of your name when you take him down your throat as far as you can. Not unlike Hyunjin, you're quite the romantic yourself. Typically you'd paint his torso and hips with kisses before teasing him with licks until he's begging you to suck him off properly.

Today isn't a typical day.

Pride swells up inside of you when he leans against your counter for support with a whispered ‘fuck.’ The brief discomfort you feel from his tip nudging the back of your throat is so worth it. You probably took too much of him too fast but, you don't care. You feel like a woman possessed right now. Your hand continues to stroke what you can't fit into your mouth and his taste causes more of your wetness to gush out of you. He always tastes so good, so him but, this is something else. You're sure if this was a hentai, your pupils would be in the shape of hearts right now. You wonder if he'd be grossed out by you asking him not to shower immediately after the gym and his dance classes anymore. Probably.

One of his hands finds its way to your hair when the sounds (and likely sensations) of you gagging on his cock are too much. You manage to blink up at him through your wet lashes (when did you start crying?) and the look in his face worsens the mess between your thighs. Even from here, you can see how almost black his eyes are. A pretty blush dusting across his face that would look endearing if he didn't look like he wanted to fuck you within an inch of your life. He maintains your eye contact as he shallowly starts to thrust into your mouth. Bruised lips parting to let out curses and groans but, his eyes remain completely locked onto you. Watching for any signs of discomfort or him going too far as his hips gradually pick up speed.

It's hard to breathe but, you push that to the back of your mind for now. Focusing on relaxing your throat as much as you can so he can fuck it thoroughly. Your face is a mess of tears, spit and pre-cum but, he's still looking at you like you're the most gorgeous person in the world to him. Maybe you are a little insane about him because what rational person thinks about how much they love their boyfriend while he's throatfucking them?

It takes you a second to notice him slowing down his pace until he stops completely. Before you can shoot him a questioning look, he's easing himself out of your mouth and a noise of frustration escapes you before you can stop yourself. His laugh, like always, is music to your ears and that coupled with the way he plays with your hair for a bit acts as a balm for your brief irritation. Still, your confusion must be written clear as day even as he helps you to your feet because he says, “Was getting close. Didn't wanna cum in your mouth.”

Driven by the painful pulse between your thighs, you drag him into another kiss. The knowledge that he's tasting himself on your tongue is so fucking hot that think you've finally, well and truly, reached the end of rope.

“Jin-Jinnie,” you gasp against his mouth, fingernails desperately clawing at his shoulders, “I ah need you to fuck me, please. Need to feel you,” you rush out in a single breath that you're not even sure he heard you. However, based on the way he practically hoists you onto your counter and ruts his cock into your thigh, he heard you just fine.

“Didn't even get to get you ready,” he complains, his massive hands spreading your thighs for him to easily slot himself between. Your breath stutters in your chest when his fingers stroke your swollen, dripping core and it's especially hard to remember how to breathe when they ghost over your clit. “Didn't even get to taste this pretty pussy,” he whines against your cheek, pressing his nose to your skin while his fingers inch closer to your entrance.

You need to stop him now otherwise you're going to wind up with his face between your thighs for like three hours like last time. And as mind-blowing as that was, you really just want his cock right now.

“Later, Jinnie, okay?” You assure him, grabbing his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. It's hard to focus when he looks at you like that but, you persist, “You can eat me out all you want later,” it does do fantastic things for your ego watching the way his eyes glaze over at the offer, “but, right now I really just want your cock, please.”

“You're so unfair,” he groans before doing his best to devour you with his full, gorgeous lips. His hands keep your thighs spread for him, gripping them so harshly that you wouldn't be shocked if you had fresh bruises decorating your skin later. 'Seriously, when did he get so strong?' you wonder briefly before you feel him sinking into you. Granted, you did quite literally beg him for this but, it still takes you a few, very long moments to remember how to breathe while he lets you feel every inch of him. You're more than wet enough. That's not the problem here. It's just so much feeling him balls deep inside of you. All you can think to do is claw at his biceps while you try to gather yourself and adjust to the stretch and the sudden, toe-curling fullness.

“So good, so tight,” he moans when he pulls away for some air, focusing his attention on lapping at your throat while his hands fondle as much of your thighs as he can reach. His thrusts start out without an ounce of mercy. The snaps of his hips are precise, deadly and meant to brush against that spot inside of you that always makes you see stars and feel lightheaded with every thrust. It's filthy, frankly. The noises of his skin slapping against yours echoing throughout your kitchen. Your shared, shaky breaths and broken moans adding tension to the familiar knot you can feel tightening in the pit of your stomach.

Blinking your eyes opening, you're met with the sight of his inky hair sticking to his damp forehead and sweat dripping down his handsome face while he watches himself thrust into you, totally transfixed. Impatient hands tugging your shirt out of the way as much as possible so he can watch the way your tits move with every stroke too. You'd laugh at his ever present fixation on your tits if you weren't so keyed up and unbearably close. Clued in either by your watery whimpers or your walls trying their best to milk him dry, Hyunjin drags you as close to the edge as he comfortably can. Pulling you impossibly close to him, right into his sweat covered chest and further onto his stupidly long cock. It's so much, too much being pressed directly into the cause of all of this in the first place. His scent is all encompassing and zipping straight from your nostrils to the apex of your thighs, more of your arousal gushing onto him.

You nearly jump when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing quick circular motions just the way he knows you like it, his mouth finding its way to your ear, “You're so close, aren't you, baby?” He whispers, adding pressure with his fingers for good measure while his pace doesn't falter in the slightest, “Gonna cum for me? Wanna cum for me? Don't you? Cum all over this cock that you've been begging for. That you sucked off like a good girl–”

All you see is white after that. Your entire body seizing up so intensely that for a fleeting moment you're worried about how deeply your nails are digging into his skin. Hyunjin doesn't seem to care, though. Not even a little bit. Muttering what you manage to briefly catch are praises and moans of your name while he continues to fuck you through your climax. Tears prick the corners of your eyes while you ride out the waves and Hyunjin seeks out his own release from your spasming walls. You can tell from the way he twitches non-stop inside of you to the increase in his whines that he's growing close. One final, brutal snap of his hips is all it takes for him to sheath himself inside of you and fill you with his warm cum. His broken moans pressed into the hollow of your neck while he cums and cums and cums.

You let him lean against you while he takes a few minutes to compose himself and come back down to Earth. Truthfully, you're not faring much better but, at least you have a counter and an apparent gymrat of a boyfriend to help steady you. He hums appreciatively into your skin when you start playing with his hair and drawing nonsensical patterns into his back.

You're not sure how much time passes, could be five minutes, could be forty but, eventually he starts to pull out of you. This is easily your least favourite part and you can't help the unpleasant shudder that runs down your back once he's completely out. However, you know you need to pee and you both definitely need to take a shower so you don't begrudge him for getting the ball rolling. At least, that's what you thought was going to happen so, when he drops to his knees, you're left baffled and look at him totally puzzled.

“What–”

“You did say I could eat you out all I want later, didn't you?”

This man is going to be the death of you.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[measuredingold]

pretty boy

authors note: hey 🫣 almost a year ago i posted my first bad omens fic onto ao3 called sweet boy and i thought… what better way to celebrate that than to write its sequel ? barely proofread so i apologize for any mistakes btw, getting back into the swing of writing “consistently” so i feel a bit rusty lol ! as always i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. :-) sweet boy can be found here.

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 3k~

cw/tags: pwp ( porn without plot basically ), p in v ( wrap it up ), established relationship, dom/sub undertones ( sub noah ), 18+ minors do not interact

The faint hum of the television fills the room, volume so low you barely can register what's even being said. You don't mind though because your focus isn't even on whatever episode of The Office that's playing, instead it's focused on the boy laying beside you, long limbs tangled with your own. Legs tangled with yours, an arm draped over your tummy, and head against your chest, you couldn't give a flying fuck about Michael Scott at this very moment.

You hum to yourself, a happy little sound, as your fingers card through his hair, finger nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You feel his chest vibrate against your side, probably making the same happy sounds that you were, and if you could see Noah's face you're sure he's smiling to himself, eyes fluttering shut.

You can't remember the last time you got a moment like this with him, just able to laze around in bed with nowhere to be. Noah wasn't running around or locking himself in his studio - nothing scheduled, nothing due. It was nice to finally be able to breathe with him in your arms again, and it was nice to know he wasn't worried about something for the first time in weeks. Maybe even months.

You let your eyes slip shut as you bask in the moment, fingers never leaving the home they made in Noah's hair. It's almost noon, you think, and you had already eaten breakfast. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't hurt... then you could get up and make some lunch for the two of you, or maybe finish the laundry you started last night. Sleep doesn't come to you, though, because you feel Noah move beside you, lifting his head up to bury against the crook of your neck.

You think nothing of it, even when you feel the ghost of his lips against your skin. You sigh, a happy sound, and by instinct your fingers tug gently at his hair before letting your nails scratch at his scalp again. You feel him whine rather than hear it, feeling the vibrations against your skin as he continues to trail kisses up your neck. Your eyes flutter open at the first roll of his hips against your thigh, and heat swirls in your stomach.

Oh.

So, you’re definitely not about to take a nap.

You thought he had been asleep, and maybe he was on the brink, but you think your little tug woke him up. You gasp quietly when you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck before another sloppy kiss is pressed there, his hips rolling into your thigh again. You can practically feel him growing harder with every roll, the sweats he's adorning leaving nothing up to the imagination.

With another scratch to his scalp, your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging much harder than you had moments prior. The force was enough to pull Noah's head back only slightly, inches away from your neck, and the sound he released was so delicious it had you shivering. He grinds against you again, this time with purpose, and you hear a faint hum of your name as he tries to press another kiss along the length of your neck.

"What is it, baby?" You mumble out, voice hoarse from barely speaking today.

Noah doesn't reply in words, instead lets out a few broken noises in response before attaching his lips back to your neck, another desperate roll of his hips against your thigh. You pull his head back again.

"Use your words, Noah."

It's been so long since you've shifted into this dynamic, usually Noah being the one to have the control recently. You loved that you were able to shift back and forth, because sometimes you needed him to be the one under you. Something shifts in his eyes as they widen and his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, still not saying a word.

You sigh, tugging at his hair once more. "Don't make me ask again."

"Just..." He finally manages to whine out, pupils dilating. "Miss you."

"I'm right here, baby."

"I know, but..." He groans, trying to bury his face back against your neck, hips rolling into your thigh again. "I miss you."

"Hm..." You hum as you card your fingers back through his hair, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him. Your stomach flips at his dilated pupils, big brown eyes staring at you with such need that you physically have to restrain yourself from surging forward and kissing him right then and there. "My poor baby. I can tell you miss me a lot, yeah?"

He nods, a bit too desperately, pressing himself against your thigh again. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep any noises of yours at bay.

"Yeah." He mumbles and his tongue darts out to slide over his bottom lip again, eyes watching you closely. "Miss you. Need you.”

For some reason those words strike a chord within you, your heart clenching beneath your chest at his confession. You couldn't help but get emotional sometimes whenever he gave this part of himself up to you, putting all his trust in your hands. There was a time where that was rare, and in your years spent together, you watched the walls he built around himself slowly come down. There was no better feeling in this world than having his trust, and you would never take it for granted.

You scratch at his scalp again and smile at the way his eyes flutter shut, body shuddering against yours. "You have me, sweet boy."

He whines again, a pathetic sound, and you take the chance to lean forward, lips pressing against his for the first time in hours. The last kiss you shared was innocent, early in the morning when you had made breakfast for the two of you - this was the complete opposite. It was full of need, Noah whimpering into your mouth as your free hand slid between your bodies, pressing against the front of his sweats. His hips cant forward, pressing into your touch, and you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing.

"Shit." He hissed against your lips and you took it upon yourself to slip your hand past the hem of sweats and boxers, letting your fingers wrap around his length.

"Oh." You gasp quietly once you have a firm hold on his cock, thumb brushing over the tip. "All for me?"

He nods quickly, lips brushing against yours as his hips roll into your fist. "Yes. You. All for you."

Pride swells up beneath your chest and your hand strokes up and down his cock a few times. The angle is awkward, and with a very displeased sound from the boy beside you, you let go for just a second to push him onto his back. You roll onto him with ease, hips pressed firmly against his aching cock. He arches up off the bed with a loud noise, and you take a moment to admire the way he looks beneath you.

Cheeks flushed, lips slick and bitten and parted beautifully, brown eyes hooded as he stared up at you. All fucked out, out of his head, and you've barely even started.

"Oh, look at you." You can't help but reach down, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing, hm?"

He nods, a deep groan escaping him as your hips roll over his for a second time. His mouth follows your thumb and before you can pull it away, his lips part. You watch with widened eyes as his lips wrap around your digit, slipping into his mouth with ease and out of curiosity your thumb presses down against his tongue. You feel him hum around it, a delicious sound, and you press harder, further.

"Such a pretty boy... especially with your mouth full." You feel his cock twitch beneath you, the bounce having you sucking in a breath as your hips roll without much thought. "How do you want it, baby? My hands? My mouth?"

You're not sure how you're even making complete sentences, the feeling of his tongue circling around your thumb having your brain feeling like complete mush, but you push through it. This is about him. His brows furrowed and he shakes his head, hands coming up to grip your hips, grinding you down against him again. You gasp.

"Oh. Baby wants me to fuck him?" He nods, whatever noise that leaves him being muffled by your thumb. You slowly pull it away from his mouth, dragging it down his chin. "Words, Noah."

"Yes, please." He breathes out, voice already wrecked. "Please, please, please."

"Shhh." You hush him, grounding your hips into his one more time - nice and slow. "I got you. I'll give you what you want."

You don't waste any time after that, sitting up on your knees to tug your sleep shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. Noah groans beneath you and with the way his cock twitches under your hips you're sure he's more than pleased to see that you wore nothing else underneath. You grin down at him, admiring the way his skin flushed from his chest up to the tips of his ears before leaning down, pressing another kiss to his lips. It doesn’t last long until you're trailing your kisses down his body, trying to taste every part of him that you could.

This was about getting him out of his head and letting him continue to not worry about everything like he typically would. Sometimes when he was home he’d be… sort of a nightmare, fixated on the next song, the next tour, the next merch drop. You didn’t want that. You wanted him relaxed, without a care in the world in that pretty little head of his. Tomorrow he can go back to his worried self, but today… he’s yours, and you’re going to do everything in your power to have your boy feeling like putty once you’re finished with him.

Your fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats and boxers, not wanting to waste anymore time. He was squirming beneath you, becoming impatient, and you’re selfish enough to admit you can’t wait much longer to have him inside of you, either. The thought of his cock had heat shooting straight to your core, and you tugged at his sweats. He immediately got the hint, hips rising off the bed and he helped you shimmy them off his body, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

“Pretty boy.” You gasped, eyes widening at the sight of his cock resting against his stomach. You subconsciously lick at your lips, the need for Noah growing more and more by the second, and your fingers hook into your own underwear, sliding them off with haste. “All mine?”

He nods, words being followed by a whine as his eyes watch you toss your underwear to the floor. “All yours.”

You smile in response but can’t help yourself from leaving forward, licking a stride up the base of his cock all the way to the tip. He shudders beneath you, especially when you place feather light kisses around his tip before crawling back up his body.

“Baby…” He groans, hands reaching for you.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice of me.” You giggle despite your apology, lips finding home against Noah’s yet again. “No more teasing, okay? No more. Promise.”

You pull back and sit up on your knees again, hips shifting over Noah’s. His cock twitches beneath you and you don’t stop the moan that falls from your lips. Your head drops to watch the way his cock slips between your soaked folds, tip nudging against your clit. He shudders again, hands gripping your hips to stop you.

“Wanna…” He takes a deep breath to collect himself, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Inside. Wanna be inside. I’ll come if you keep going.”

You giggle, a little breathless, and nod at his words. “Already so worked up? How cute.”

You lift your hips up just slightly as your fingers wrap around him, lining him up with your entrance. You caught his eyes just as you began to sink down on his cock and the sight was... everything. From the way his brows furrowed, his pretty lips parting as you slowly sink further and further, and then the way his body arches the second you bottom out. You gasp, the arch of his body pressing him deeper into you, and your eyes flutter shut at just how deep he was.

"Shit, Noah." You moan out, your current facade breaking for just a moment. “Always feel so fucking good, baby. Oh my god.”

You give yourself just a moment to adjust to his cock, no prep making the stretch burn slightly more than usual - still delicious all the same. With a sigh of pleasure, you rise and slowly drop, the slow drag of his cock making the both of you moan in unison. The hand that was on your hip slid up your body to the back of your neck, pulling you down to him. Your lips slide together messily as you roll your hips into his, picking up speed.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” He pants against your mouth, no longer kissing you, too consumed by the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

You sit up again, resting your hands against his chest as you continue your relentless grinding, gasping every so often whenever Noah’s thrusts would meet your own. You knew he was close, so worked up and overwhelmed even before he had gotten inside you. A part of you wants to tease him, get him so close to the edge before stopping completely. You want to see him cry, feel him shake underneath you and hear him beg for you to keep going, but today wasn’t the day for that. No, your poor boy was already there, cock twitching inside you with every roll of your hips, and you weren’t that far behind him either.

“Baby.” He gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as you grounded into him. “Gonna… fuck, ‘m gonna…”

His words get stuck in his throat and you stare down at him in awe, truly captivated at how beautiful he looked beneath you. Skin flushed the perfect shade of pink, brows knitted together and mouth dropped open, the most delicious noises leaving him. You’re not even sure if he even knows what he’s saying at this point, too consumed by you and the way his cock feels buried inside your pussy. You grin lazily down at him, giving another slow, deep roll of your hips, nails digging into his chest.

“Yeah? Gonna what? Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Oh.” It’s a choked sound and you feel his cock twitch inside of you the exact time you clench around him, and you swear his grip on your hips will leave a bruise tomorrow. “Fuck. Gonna come, ‘m gonna come. Please, please, please, baby please.”

“You can come.” You sigh out in pleasure, never stopping the movement of your hips. “Fuck, yes, you can come. So good for me, baby.”

With a few more sporadic thrusts from Noah he stills with a choked sob, cock twitching while he spills inside of you. You moan at the feeling, body shuddering as he fills you up, and it almost pushes you over the edge. Almost. You sit up and let a hand slide to your center, middle and ring fingers rubbing against your aching clit as you continue to ride him. Your body slumps forward the second your orgasm crashes into you, burying your face into Noah’s shoulder as you cry out in ecstasy.

All that was left to be heard in your bedroom was the combination of both yours and Noah’s labored breathing. You stayed still for a moment, catching your breath, and smiled lazily to yourself when you felt his lips brush against the side of your head.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, voice low, and you could tell just how… gone he still truly was. “Needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply just as tired, but your words get drowned out by the soft moan you let out when he shifts under you, reminding you of his now softening cock still buried inside.

“Fuck.” He whimpered next to your ear, obviously sensitive from you still wrapped around him, but made no effort to move just yet.

You pull back to finally stare at him, heat swirling in the pit of your stomach again at just his fucked out he looked. Eyes barely open, the happiest little smile on his lips, cheeks stained with tears that you must’ve missed during your climax. He whimpers again, pathetically at that, when you roll your hips and clench around him one last time, his body shaking under yours.

“Sorry, my love.” You mumble, sitting up fully and then reaching down to wild at his cheeks. “Just look so beautiful like this. Can’t help myself.”

You could easily take him again, and you knew he’d let you, especially with the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. He’d probably let you take him six more times if it meant not parting from you - when he got in this headspace all he ever wanted to be was closecloseclose. Though, instead, you rise on your knees and the two of you groan in unison when his cock slips from you, the mess between your legs becoming very apparent.

“Come on, shower time.”

It takes a second to finally get him out of the bed and into the bathroom, and you knew with the way his eyes were fluttering every five seconds you had about ten minutes before he’d pass out from exhaustion. You speed through the shower and before you know it, you’re back in bed with Noah’s face buried against your chest once again. This time sleep does find you both, and you nap into the afternoon with a grin on your lips and your boy in your arms.

[kinkyrafe]

Overnight Fun

Kinktober, October 04

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe is edged over night for the first time.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites, @audzzz, @valyrianflower, @aariahnaa

_

It’s the first weekend Rafe and you decided to spend together. Only the two of you from Saturday morning to Sunday night and you really want to make it special. You want to have fun, you want to train him a little but most of all, you want to get to know him better. 

Rafe comes over to your apartment right after a breakfast with clients, still dressed in his fancy clothes and you can’t help but notice how your mouth waters when you see him like this. 

“Hello, handsome,” you greet him enthusiastically. “We should meet up after work more often. You look hot.”

“Hello, sexy lady,” he greets you back and you both laugh as he hugs you and kisses you.

“Ready for a weekend full of sex?” He asks and his eyes glint with anticipation.

“I am ready,” you answer, “Are you?”

“More than ready,” he says, “I couldn’t think about anything else all morning.”

“I hope you didn’t talk to your client about the two of us,” you tease him.

He grins. “Oh, I did, the entire time,” he jokes, “Turns out, they are really interested in the things we do in the bedroom.” He looks around your apartment as he comes in. “Not only in the bedroom, now that I think of it.”

You have something fun planned for this weekend but you’re not entirely sure how he’ll take it: edging. You have edged him before but only for maybe two or three hours tops and he got frustrated a lot even in this short amount of time. For someone who is fairly new to all of this, being constantly denied can be incredibly draining and frustrating, both mentally and physically, so you will have to be really mindful. He has told you that he would love to try it though.

“Are you still ready to be edged all weekend?” You ask as he hangs up his coat. 

“I sure am,” he replies, “I’ve watched a couple of videos online over the course of this week, it looks fun.”

You raise your eyebrows, barely holding back a laugh. “Videos?” You question mockingly. “You mean porn?”

“Yes, okay,” he chuckles with his arms up in defense, “I’ve basically watched porn all week.”

You step into his space and put your hands on his chest. “Did you touch yourself while watching it?” You continue to ask.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers and you just nod approvingly. 

“Good boy.”

It doesn’t take the two of you long before Rafe is sitting on your couch, partly undressed, with you on his lap, touching him as you see fit. Partly undressed is an understatement in itself, you couldn’t resist the outfit so you decided to open his dress pants just wide enough so that you have access to his cock. That is all you need for now anyway. 

You start stroking and pumping it, twisting your hand in the ways he likes it best - alternating between one and two hands, involving his whole cock from head to the base and his balls as well. It is a good handjob – even though you physically do not have the chance to experience it, you just know it is. His reactions to your touch make it evident.

"Please, can I come?" He asks after a short while and one look into his face tells him that he fully expects to be denied - rightfully so.

You laugh and continue to work his cock, forming a ring with your middle finger and thumb, playing with the edge of the head of his cock. His mouth falls open at this sensation. "Even if I hadn’t just told you that I want to edge you until tomorrow afternoon, just theoretically speaking, what would need to happen before that?"

There is this rule that you establish with basically all of your subs for the first couple of weeks until they obey willingly and you feel safe enough to not need them to be as vulnerable as you want them at the beginning of a sexual relationship. And this rule is that they are only allowed to come when there is something in their ass.

Rafe has taken to this rule of yours better than most. He loves having his ass played with, that has been clear ever since you first put a finger in him.

Right now, he laughs despite his desperation. “There’s absolutely no need for that,” he rasps out. 

You join in with his laughter. “Oh there is, trust me,” you retort, “Especially with argumentative subs like you. Gotta show you where your place is.”

He moans at that. “Yes, please.” 

“I'm showing you right now,” you say smugly, “Showing you your place isn’t always about getting all the action and all the orgasms, it's also about being patient and trusting me to make you feel good eventually. It's about endurance.”

He groans this time, frustrated. All the while his body is trembling with arousal and you know that he is close to coming.

“I take it, you don’t like this aspect of it,” you smirk, continuing to stroke his cock slowly but firmly.

He manages to huff out a laugh as his body reacts to what your hands are doing. “Not at all, mistress.” It’s a testament to how well you’ve trained him already that he adds this address to statements like this.

“Poor you,” you smirk and lick some precum off of him. His cock twitches. “I promise, you'll be so happy I made you wait tomorrow afternoon.”

He doesn’t believe you yet but arches his back in pleasure at the same time.

When you’re sure that he won’t be able to take anymore, you take your hands off of him and give him some time to calm down. He hates every second of it, you can tell.

“I thought it looked fun online,” you can’t help but tease as you start jerking him off again. 

“I just want to come so badly already,” he groans out and his voice is trembling already.

You bring him to the edge twice more – until his back is arched and his body is all tense and he clearly is close to losing it. 

His eyes are closed when you leave one hand on his cock and use the other to take an ice cube out of a cup. Carefully, you hold it against his rock hard and throbbing cock.

His whole body jolts with shock when the ice touches his skin. “What the fuck?” He shouts.

“Such foul language,” you scold with an evil smile on your face as you rub the ice cube all over his shaft, watching it soften, down to his balls. He squirms with discomfort. “Take it,” you instruct. “Show me how obedient you can be. Lay still and take it.” 

He groans and swears but his whole body tenses with the effort of keeping still and letting you basically hurt him. He still jerks away from you from time to time but over all, he does good.

“Why are you doing this?” He whines.

“Because I got you all hot and now I got to make you cool off again,” you explain sweetly. 

#

"Can you please put something in my ass? Please?" He begs about two hours later when you have your hands on his cock again, yet again pushing him to the edge over and over again. 

His cock is throbbing and leaking precum, his eyes are completely unfocused, there's a layer of sweat all over his body and he has goosebumps all over. In short, he is so heavily turned on.

“Look at you, begging to be fucked," you tease. “Where would you like to feel it?” You know, you're a bitch for pressing two knuckles against his teint, massaging his prostate on the outside. “There?”

His shouts echo around the room and while you enjoy seeing him like this, he probably should learn not to curse you. 

You motherfucking bitch, earns him a couple of light, harmless smacks directly to his dick and balls. According to his screams, they don’t feel light and harmless at all.

#

That night, you make him dress up and take you out for dinner, so he doesn't have to sit at home all day, moping about not being allowed to cum. 

“You clean up so well,” you can’t help but stare at him in admiration when he comes into the bedroom where you're getting ready. Such a beautiful man he is.

“Look who's talking.” He raises an eyebrow and puts an arm around your waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

His face comes closer to yours for a second before he turns away and drops his arm from your waist as well. As if he's not sure whether he's allowed to touch and kiss you. 

You quickly grab his hand and put it where it was only a moment before and then you reach up and bring your faces close together. 

“You can kiss me anytime you want, Rafe,” you say quietly. 

“Wasn't sure for a sec,” he mumbles before he cups your face and kisses you. You love kissing him. It's always the perfect amount of tenderness and passion. It's never too much and never too little. He's perfect. Rafe’s truly perfect in any way.

“Ready to eat?” You ask against his lips.

“Actual food or you?” He jokes.

“Food now, me later,” you answer suggestively and watch him swallow.

He's clearly not used to someone being as quick and sharp-witted as he is.

“Let's go before I'm hard again,” he says and basically hurries out of the bedroom. 

#

“Look at that, babe,” you say and guide his head so he has no choice but to look at his hard cock as you twist his nipples. “Look at your cock. Do you see how hard it is? I’m doing nothing but touching your nipples.”

You continue playing with them for a while. Caressing, licking, twisting, biting, pulling, scratching… just how you see fit. 

All the while, his cock is pumping precum like crazy. He is so incredibly turned on that you could probably do anything to him if you wanted to.

You love riling him up like this. You love making him hot all over. It's just so easy. His body responds to you in a way no one has ever done before – and it seems to be the same situation for him as well. No one has ever managed to get him like you get him. You know exactly what to say and where to touch and what to do to just make him feel good.

When you bring him down from the edge this time, he can’t hold back tears pooling in his eyes.

“Ah fuck,” he nearly sobs but laughs at the same time, “Fuck. I don’t know why I'm crying now.”

You smile at him gently and wipe away some falling tears with your hand. “Sometimes crying is just a reaction of your body when you are really tense and then the tension eases…” That's also why sometimes people cry after an orgasm.

And he is a complete mess. He's been pretty composed at dinner but other than that, he has been hard practically all day.

“It’s all gonna be worth it, I promise,” you comfort him as you evilly rub the ice cube over the tip of his cock. It’s all soft now.

“We'll do one new thing today,” you tell him carefully when the tears are gone, his breathing is evened out and he is calm again.

His eyes widen.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” 

His facial expressions soften with surprise and relief. “You can’t just ask this question normally, can you? You just have to wind me up!”

You smile a bit sheepishly and shrug. “It’s so easy to wind you up, you know?”

He looks away a bit ashamed but when you kiss him, he immediately kisses you back.

You let him sleep in your bed because he is so tense and churned up and needy and you don’t want him to drop.

Once you are in bed, you cannot help but let your fingers run over his sides down to his ass. "I'm gonna fuck you so good tomorrow," you tease him, “You’re gonna cum so hard.”

He groans. You can’t help but notice that he is hard again. You almost feel bad but there is one thing still left to address. “You remember when you asked earlier whether you would eat food or me for dinner?”

“Babe,” he mutters and his voice almost breaks around the single word, “Mistress, I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s time for dessert,” you joke.

“You know how much I love eating you out,” he complains, “I’m probably gonna cum just from touching you.”

“You need to control yourself better, then,” you say sternly this time, “This is not about you right now.”

This sentence definitely hits home. He looks at you, shocked, and swallows. “Sorry, I know,” he says sheepishly, “Of course, I’m gonna eat you out.”

“Think you’re gonna manage to make me cum?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You know I will,” he grunts and lifts the duvet to be able to get to work.

Of course he does make you cum. These fingers and tongue really can’t fail. 

He himself still doesn’t get to cum. 

He does get all the cuddles he wants, though. Which is nice. Really nice.

#

The next morning, not long after you’re both awake, you make Rafe eat you out again. 

“Do I get to cum after?” He asks, the expression on his face full of the anticipation of a five year old on Christmas Eve. 

You chuckle. “No,” you say simply, “This afternoon, I promise!”

He lets his head drop back and groans. “You fucking tease,” he mumbles, “It’s hard enough not to be able to get off, lying next to you but I love eating you out…. It’s so hot…” He continues to complain a little bit but as soon as you take off your panties, sit right in front of him and spread your legs so he can see your vulva, he stops short. He licks his lips and stares right between your legs. Seeming to remember his manners, he tears his gaze upwards to your face and turns red. 

“May I?” He asks and motions towards your vulva. 

You chuckle.

“Sure, when you’re done moping…” You say to tease him. He turns even redder but decides to push past his embarrassment and dive right into it. And boy does he give it his all.

“Are you a starved man?” You manage to ask after a couple of moments. You need to lie back. If you wouldn’t practice as much self-control you would have cum at least once already. 

“Desperate,” he smirks up at you, “Just how you like me.”

You chuckle before you have to throw your head back with pleasure. These long fingers combined with this naughty tongue are going to be the death of you in more ways than one. You need to think of a scenario that allows you to completely let go and still manage to stay in control as much as possible - and you need to come up with it quickly. “How about we’ll see how often you can make me cum during the next 30 minutes?” You ask breathlessly. 

Again, he looks up at you with so much anticipation in his eyes that you can’t help but laugh. “Challenge accepted,” he says and pulls you closer to his mouth by your legs. You are still laughing as you set a timer.

Exactly 30 minutes and a total of four orgasms later - it always takes you a while to cum after the first two - you both cuddle up next to each other to calm down. 

You can see and feel that he is hot all over and so, so incredibly turned on. His whole body is flushed and again, he has goosebumps all over.

You tease him a little bit. Letting your fingers trail over his torso, licking his nipples, sucking bruises to the inside of his thigh close to his groin, licking the soft and wet skin of the head of his hard cock that peeks out from underneath his boxers. 

You caress his balls, ever so lightly.

His whole body tenses, his breathing is ragged already and he is right on the edge and you notice that you definitely need to slow down or he'll either cum or he'll drop for sure.

You take your hands off him and lie down next to him, cuddling close. “You're being so good, babe,” you praise him over and over again while you're waiting for him to cool down a bit.

#

You go for a run together, 5k, just to let off some steam. It’s fun and it’s easy and you both love it and you can’t help but notice that with Rafe, it begins to feel very different compared to all the guys you had situationships and relationships with in the past.

When you’re home again, you shower together and you have to really control yourself to not make him fuck you right then and there. Instead, you make yourself stick to your plan, but let it be known that it is not easy.

The smile that forms on his face, when you tell him that he sometimes makes it hard for you to control yourself is radiant. He is so, so proud, and you can’t help but return the exact same, happy smile.

You decide that it’s best to cook together on Sunday for lunch to have something distract him from how horny he is. 

You can tell that he probably doesn’t cook at all judging by how he looks at the cucumber that you instruct him to chop for your salad. 

However, before he can get to it, you slide in the little space between him and your kitchen counter. 

“On your knees,” you instruct. 

His eyes darken as his pupils widen instantly. 

“Take off my pants,” you instruct further.

He does. 

“Make me cum again,” you tell him. You really need to feel these skilled long fingers and tongue on and in you immediately.

Of course, he obeys and gives you all the pleasure you deserve.

#

When it is finally Sunday afternoon, he is close to breaking. 

He is all over the place and so turned on that his body doesn’t really cooperate anymore. It’s not possible for you to put him on all four because he just cannot keep himself up. The mere sight of him in this state fills you with so much joy that you can’t help but smile the whole time. 

So you decide to put him on his back, tie up his wrists and then tie the wrists to the headboard of your bed. You pull him all the way down, so that his arms are straight. You put a spreader between his ankles and when it is in place again he has as little room to wiggle as possible. Positions like these seem to be toughest but they are actually very easy on the sub as they don’t have much room to disobey. 

He is fully hard and leaking precum by the time you are done tying him up.

“Tied up and nowhere to go just how I like you,” you say appreciatively. 

You take one of your strap ons out of the dresser next to your bed. Then you swing one leg over him and situate yourself until his head is in between your knees. "How about you put that tongue of yours to good use, while I fasten this strapon?” You ask. “Get me wet and excited to fuck you?”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. Again, it feels so, so good.

When it is finally time for you to fuck him, there is absolutely no resistance left in his body. You just grab the spreader and push it back so that his knees are drawn to his chest and then you try to prep him but he takes first one, than two, and then three fingers easily, and if he wasn’t as tied up as he is, he would totally fuck himself on your hand. There is nothing left in him other than pure lust and that thought alone makes you go wild.

So you slick up the strapon with a generous amount of lube, line it up, and before you even push it in, he is writhing within his bonds and moaning already.

And then you are fucking into him, strong, rhythmic thrusts in a slow pace and you can just see that Rafe’s body loves every second of it. You can see it, you can feel it, you can hear it. The noises he makes with every thrust are something else.

“Do I make you feel good?” You ask him softly, smiling down at this beautiful, completely wrecked man, all tied up in a way that allows you to fuck into him deeply, and all he can do is lie there and take it and it is so obvious that he enjoys all of it.

“So good,” he chokes out in between all the ah, and oh, and uh.

"Can you please touch me?” He asks, his voice completely hoarse.

You look down at his flushed, swollen cock that just lies against Rafe’s stomach, throbbing with arousal and pumping precum all over his tensing lower abs.

You circle the head of it with one gentle finger and swipe up some precum. "I think one dick involved is enough for now,” you respond with a particular hard thrust before you take your finger to your mouth and lick the precum right off of it. Delicious. He nearly blacks out at the sight.

Not long after that, however, you take your magic wand, turn it on and put it against his cock and at this point he is completely incoherent.

You decide to tell him he has permission to come now, any time because you just know he is not in the state to ask for permission anymore. 

You run the massager up and down from the tip of his cock down to his teint and he squirms and he breathes hard and he shouts. It's all he does.

You use the massager all over his body next, legs first, traveling upwards over his abs, to his nipples and then back downwards to his cock. You watch mesmerized as his muscles flex underneath your touch.

"You are such a sight," you tell him completely in awe.

By the time the massager is on the head of his cock again, he moans obscenely and then he cums hard.

And he cums.

And cums.

And cums.

His body jerks in every direction, seemingly seeking your touch and trying to get away from it at the same time. 

You milk him until he's completely dry. 

-

Even though you give him a lot of time, minutes later, he still is completely out of it. 

He whimpers when you pull out the strapon but that is the only sound he makes. Normally every whimper is accompanied by an embarrassed groan or a nervous laugh but there is no energy for none of that left in him.

You get rid of the restraints, but he doesn’t move his arms or legs regardless. 

He flinches slightly when you clean his cum off of him with a towel but other than that, there is no reaction from him.

So all you can do is lay down next to him. You run your hands over his body again, wanting to touch and feel every inch of his skin, but there is nothing suggestive or teasing about your touch now. It's soft and gentle and calming. You try to ground him as much as you can.

The whole time you praise him, tell him how good he has been, tell him how well he did and how hot he looked and how happy you are that he lets you do all these things, how brave he is for trying out new stuff and letting himself be so vulnerable with you.

It takes a long time for him to come back to himself. His eyes begin to focus after a while, and shortly after, you feel him wrapping his hands around your waist, drawing you closer, as close as possible. 

“That was out of this world,” he mumbles into your hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

He only hums affirmatively.

He naps first, and you make sure to be there when he wakes up. After that, you force him to drink a glass of juice and eat a protein bar.

Then you make him take a bath. You stay with him and eventually you get in yourself. You massage his wrists and his ankles. You’re there and you’re all gentle touches and soft whispers and sweet words.

And after a while, at some point during his bath, he can at least talk again but his mind is still somewhere else. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so out of it,” he apologizes but there is absolutely no need for that.

“You're good,” you reassure him calmly.

You bring him sweat pants, a shirt and a hoodie and make him settle down on the couch.

When the food you ordered arrives, he falls asleep in the time it takes you to get up from the couch, go to your doorway and reenter the living room. 

You wake him gently. He apologizes again as it is only shortly after 6.30pm. 

"It's all good, Rafe, I promise," you comfort him, "You can sleep in a moment, I just need you to eat something first."

You eat in silence, the TV is on, streaming your favorite sitcom, but it's more a background noise. None of you are watching for real, your minds still on each other and on the scene you just shared.

“Babe?” He asks suddenly, “I’m… I just wanted to say, I’m sorry, that I was so whiny yesterday. I don’t know why… I knew it would be good but I somehow couldn’t really control myself.”

He looks so soft and vulnerable that you can’t help but hug him. “I know, babe,” you answer, deliberately using the same nickname he chose to use for you, “It’s all good, it was your first time to be edged overnight. You did a really good job. And you know I love you all whiny and desperate.”

He looks aways and turns bright red. You move in to kiss his cheek and his temple and it doesn’t take long before he gets over his embarrassment, cups your cheek and draws you in for a real kiss.

"Would you be comfortable sleeping in my bed again tonight? I know we both have work tomorrow and yesterday was the first night you slept over but I’m a bit afraid you could drop and I don’t want that."

He rubs his eyes and nods. "Yeah, I would like that."

You nod and a really happy smile spreads on your lips. You want to be with him because you're a bit afraid he'd drop, that is correct, but you also want to be with him, full stop.

"Come on, let’s get ready for bed then." 

It is only 08 pm but you’re both worn out and tired and you both crave a cuddle and cuddles are just best in bed.