#but I'm too pussy to go up to half of y'all and ask to be invited | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetpascal · 2 months

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

gif: @andrew-lincoln

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: there are four more days remaining in the week before your mom returns. joel observes how easy it is for him to get into your head, thus creating a strict routine that makes it easy to break you down and put you back together again.

warnings: MINOR DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification, one slap to the face, sloppy make-out session, TW: isolation, oral [f receiving], hella pussy eating, multiple orgasms, joel fucking loves to eat pussy, joel is mean and condescending, squirtiinngggg

wc: 6.2k (are you really not surprised that i go overboard with what are supposed to be short chapters ???)

notes: i have really bad daddy issues and trauma if you couldn't tell already. i didn't know i needed perv!stepdad!joel that badly until i wrote him out and saw the swarm of attention he's been getting by all y'all depraved nasties out there (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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Upon waking in the morning, you found your head throbbing and your mouth as dry as the Sahara. An unswallowable aftertaste lingered, repulsive, reminiscent of vomit mixed with glue. You winced at the bright sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, groaned drowsily, and buried your head back into the pillow, pulling the fluffy blanket over your head.

A knock at the door was followed by Joel's voice asking, "Babydoll, are you awake?" Then the door swung open, and the sound of his boots echoed as he walked towards your bed. You responded with a groan, swallowing hard and stifling a hiccup.

Reflecting on the previous night felt like a nightmare. The only memories that lingered were informing your stepdad about the lake, spending time there with your friend, returning home, and vaguely recalling sharing a drink with Joel. Beyond that, everything was a hazy blur.

The bed sags beneath you as you curl up under the covers. Joel's husky laughter fills the air as he rubs your back, his hand's warmth seeping through the thick blanket, causing a delightful shiver. Then, in a jolt as if a shock to your frontal lobe, you recall everything. The shared alcohol, the kissing, Joel's deep voice as thick as honey in your ears, the throbbing in your lower half--all of it.

Jerking upright hastily, you grimaced as the intense sunlight dazzled you once more. You narrowed your eyes as much as possible, attempting to focus on Joel. He grins at your disheveled appearance, taking note of the little love bites all over your throat and the sides of your neck. You wiped away the blurriness that lingered in your eyes.

"I-I remember... what we did last night," you whispered the last part and covered your mouth with both hands, suddenly too shy to look at your stepdad and worried that he would reprimand you for getting too carried away. "Joel-" Your sentence stops because of the warning glare he sends your way. "Daddy," you try again, feeling warm inside when he gives you a nod. "I-I think I acted very... all over the place... and-and I did some naughty, dirty things with you and-and I'm so, so sorry."

Last night was erotic, dirty, and didn't ease his perversion. When you could barely hold yourself up and kept burping in his mouth, Joel decided to call it a night. He had picked you up effortlessly in his arms and stomped up the stairs, not even breaking a sweat. He undressed you, slowly and meticulous. He left on your bikini, not wanting his first view of your cunt being when you're unaware and unconscious--which was a lot fucking harder than he thought, and also ironic considering what he had done days ago. He couldn't help himself, however, when he buried his nose between your thighs and inhaled deeply, the heady scent of your pussy making his jaw ache and his mouth water.

Now, as he sits before you while looking into those pretty eyes of yours, Joel's hunger is nearly beastly, even fucking demonic. He wants to sink his sharp teeth into your delicate flesh and leave you broken and bruised with no other choice but to beg him for mercy, beg him to stop, beg him to put you back together again.

"Remember when I told you what adults do to feel good?" He asks you, his voice sweet enough to cause a toothache. When you give him a nod, he grips your thigh just enough to make you squirm. "Well, what we did last night is just that. You and I are adults, and we did somethin' that made us both feel good, right?" When he raised his brows at you, expecting you to agree with him, you immediately nodded as you processed his words.

"Good," he continues, sliding his hand further up your leg until he's gripping the meat of your inner thigh. "Daddy has a lot to teach you, sweetheart."

The sun was shining high and blazing down. Since you didn't get time to really enjoy it at the lake--your friend was too handsy for comfort--you decided to enjoy it in the backyard. Wearing the same bikini as yesterday, you laid on the grass on top of your polka dot towel with your sunglasses perched on your nose. Joel had prepared a drink for you: strawberry kiwi juice with a splash of passion fruit rum. It was delightful, striking the perfect balance between fruitiness, sweetness, and a subtle hint of alcohol.

As you laid out in the sun, you think back to the series of events that occurred after your mom's departure. There's a lingering feeling in the back of your mind that can't let you ignore the inappropriate relationship you and Joel now have. This is the same man that has been in your life since you were a child. This is the same man that has watched you grow into the beautiful, young woman you are now. This is the same man that is still married to your mother.

Each touch he lays upon your pliant body left a trail of fire. It was all so confusing and wrong. It's your stepdad, for goodness' sake. He's three times your age. But he also knows so much about the world and how to navigate through it. He knows everything and anything, and you'll be damned if you don't accept all the help that you can get from him.

A series of bangs from within the house jolted you upright. You pushed your glasses up and peered toward the backdoor. Silence ensued for a few seconds before the banging resumed. With a puzzled frown and concern etching your brow, you wrapped your towel tighter and hastened inside. Joel was nowhere in the kitchen, living room, or guest bathroom. As you reached for the basement door, the banging echoed from upstairs, punctuated by a loud curse and an even louder bang.

Following the noise, you hurry up the stairs, towel still tightly wrapped around your body. Upon noticing that your bedroom door was opened, you weakly called out, "Uh, Daddy?"

"In here, babydoll," you hear his voice coming from your bedroom, further easing the anxiety that settled in the pit of your stomach.

As you entered your room, your eyes widened, and an involuntary gasp escaped your lips. There stood Joel by the windows, wielding a hammer in one hand and clutching long, thick nails in the other. Unmoved by your gasp, he persisted in hammering the nails into the window frame, each blow forceful enough to send tremors through the floorboards. He was sealing you inside.

"What are you doing?!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side and frantically seizing his forearm to prevent him from driving another thick nail into the window frame.

Joel sighs deeply with frustration and merely shakes you off. He stares down at you, your eyes wide and frightful, tears brimming along your waterline. The sight stirs something deep in his gut. He wonders if this is what you'd look like if he shoved his dick so far down your throat that you pass out from the lack of oxygen, slobbering and crying all over his thighs and heavy balls.

"Sweetheart, we talked about this last night," he tells you gently, wiping away one of the tears that managed to slide down your cheek. "Don't you remember?"

He knows you don't remember because he made it up. He never told you about this. Seeing you getting caught off guard, falling for his rotten lies was a comical sight. He wants to laugh in your face to further drive the embarrassment deep in your heart and make you feel really stupid.

Your brows furrowed and you looked off to the side, wracking through your mind to try and remember the conversation you and your stepdad had last night. All you can see are images flashing through your mind of the two of you kissing and touching, but nothing of Joel mentioning nailing your windows shut.

"I-I... don't remember," you whispered up to him, eyes glancing up to look into his own. "Did I really agree to this?" You couldn't remember a damn thing.

Joel grins and lets out a gruff laugh. "Of course you did, silly girl. You don't remember 'cause you were a goddamn mess all over me." He can see that his crude choice of wording made you shrink in on yourself. He continues, "It's for your own good, babydoll. I'm only doin' this to protect you from the dangerous people out there that wanna separate us. That's why I can't have you goin' out with those bad influence friends o' yours anymore."

Everything is becoming clear now. The pieces are falling into place. Joel is acting this way because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. The reality that there are people who wish to tear you apart is genuinely frightening. Even if it means cutting all of your friends out of your life and only following Joel, you'd do so without hesitation. You no longer have your own voice. Now, when you think, Joel's is the only voice you hear in your head.

Lying in bed freshly showered, you hold onto one of your stuffed animals and look up at the ceiling. Shortly after hammering your windows shut, Joel had taken your phone and pocketed it, informing you that it was also for your own good and that media consumption will influence you to do things only a bad girl would do. And you're not a bad girl. You'd never want to give off that impression to Joel. All you wanted was to be good for him, to hear his praises fall from his plush lips.

But then, your mind started racing at the thoughts of him. His broad shoulders and strong arms, muscles that ripple with effort and exertion. There have been many instances where you caught yourself staring at the muscles of his back when he would be working on his truck. Your stepdad was a handsome man--there's no lie in that. You were just too young to really understand the intricacies of finding someone attractive.

But now at your adult age, feeling his lips and hands on your pure body, you needed more. You needed to hear his gravelly voice in your ear and his hot breath sweeping across your skin in a way that makes you shiver deliciously. You needed to feel him touch you everywhere, mainly focusing on your lower half. That feeling was still confusing. You didn't understand why it throbbed and why it'd get so wet and why you would feel butterflies in your tummy.

A knock came at your door. As it gradually swung open, it revealed the man who had been on your mind incessantly. Joel was there, clad in his day-long attire: a dark green flannel shirt, dirt-stained dark blue jeans, and his well-worn work boots. When he fully enters your room and closes the door behind him, you're left with a throbbing ache that settles deep in your core. There's an insinuation in the way he begins to unbutton his flannel, revealing the forest green t-shirt underneath. With parted lips, you shakily exhale and lean up further against the headboard.

"Barely had time to spend with my favorite girl," Joel remarks, perched on the edge of your bed, unlacing his boots. It's quite the contrast—his attire against the backdrop of your room's pastel hues and the pretty pink bed adorned with vintage floral bedding. "But now that I'm finished with grown-up stuff, I can finally give you some attention, huh?"

When he turns his head to look at you, he wolfishly grins at the sight of your labored breathing and dilated pupils. He hasn't even touched you yet and you're already affected by his close proximity. Then, the grin slowly vanishes, and the air grows thicker. The two of you stare at one another, neither of you speaking, but more so observing. You fear that Joel can hear just how fast and hard your heart was thumping in your ribcage. You wonder if he can even see it through your thin tank top.

Mustering up the courage to speak, you licked your lips and shyly look away from him as you say, "Stop looking at me like that." You fiddle with the hem of your tank top, slowly bringing your knees up to your chest to shield your nipples that are now poking through your top.

Joel had seen them the second he walked in. You knew he did. You saw his eyes scan your entire form when he shut the door behind him. He's not stupid. He bites down on his plump bottom lip and releases it as he sits closer. When he looks into your eyes, he can see that you really don't want him to stop.

"How do you want me to look at you?" He asks in a husky voice, so low and deep and thick with that glorious southern accent of his.

As you look at him, you feel a warmth spread under his intense, fiery gaze. His face, aged yet ruggedly handsome, is highlighted by the dimly lit shadows that play across the contours of his visage. It's clear why your mother chose him. His skin is a beautiful golden hue, complemented by thick curls of dark brown hair, lightly spotted with grays. Joel Miller stands before you, the very image of a Greek deity.

A hand on your ankle grounds you once again. Your body trembles, and goosebumps emerge along your arms and legs beneath the warmth of Joel's palm. He hums, lost in contemplation, watching the deliberate motions of his hand.

"You don't... You look at me in a way you're supposed to look at mom. And... And you don't look at me the same way stepdads are supposed to look at their stepdaughters," you murmur the confession to him, the cute curiosity in your voice making Joel smile.

His hand slides further up your leg until it reaches your knee. Then, he very slowly coaxes your legs to open. His eyes track where his hand is leading to. Your feet part to allow his arm to rest comfortably between your legs. Just as his large hand reaches your inner thigh, middle finger just barely skimming the hem of your shorts, you elicit a delicate gasp that has Joel looking up at you.

"You're a very special girl, babydoll," Joel speaks quietly and slowly, allowing you to hear and feel every word that leaves his lips. "Your momma... Well, she can be a bit difficult, ya know?" His hand very slowly rubs up and down your inner thigh, both of you now looking between your legs to watch his careful movements. "But you? Well, you're one of a kind, sweetheart. You're so different from your momma. You're so soft, so supple, so... easy to get in that little head o' yours."

Your hands tighten into fists on either side of your hips. Fighting back the urge to clamp your thighs shut around Joel's forearm, you keep watching, eager and curious to see what happens next. The closer his fingers get to your covered pussy, the more warmth he feels radiating from it. He feels the subtle tremble of your thighs against his palm, causing his fingers to dig deeper into your virgin skin.

"Joel...?" You breathe out heavily, your chest rising and falling quickly as the throbbing in your core only increases. This whole cat-and-mouse game is driving you crazy. The ache you feel is borderline painful, just begging to be relieved. "What... What're you...?"

Joel hushes you softly, his own lips parting as he rests his palm against your mound, slowly trailing his thumb down to rest over your covered, swelling clit. As he gently presses down, your hips jolt and you release a wanton whimper.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, your eyes so wide and mouth all open from the pool of warmth that briefly intensified in the pit of your tummy. "I felt something!" He lets out a low chuckle from your reaction.

He pressed his thumb down again, loving the little tremors he feels in your thighs. This time, he starts to rub slow, deliberate circles. You begin to feel the throbbing ache go away. It was now replaced with a tingly sensation you can feel all over your lower half. It was a liquid warmth that made your hips wiggle.

"Tha' feel good?" Joel asks, his breath calling across your knee as he presses a kiss to it. He trails the fingers on your mound further down to swipe up and down your pussy, just barely pressing against your hole. "Can Daddy take these off, babydoll?"

Barely registering what he asks, you still nod. You're in a hazy state, almost drunk and dizzy from what you're feeling. Joel kisses your knee once more before tucking his fingers underneath the waistband of both your shorts and panties and pulling them down agonizingly slowly. He briefly turns around to throw both articles of clothing aside. When he turns back to face you, almost all of the air is almost punched out of him.

With your thighs now comfortably spread open, you watch his reaction to your exposed pussy now on display for him to see for the very first time. You see his eyes darken and his jaw clench so tight that you're surprised his teeth didn't shatter from the pressure. Joel could barely think. All of his thoughts are clouded with permanent images of your virgin pussy. A soft dusting of hair covers your mound and pussy lips. Your clit was so swollen and pink, almost pulsating in time with your heartbeat. There was a sticky mess of slick leaking out of your tight hole. Joel's mouth waters. No matter how many times he swallows, it builds back up.

"Jesus Christ, sweetheart," he croaks, almost sounding in pain. "Your little pussy is the prettiest I have ever seen in my goddamn life."

Glancing down between your legs, your brows furrow at the wetness that keeps leaking out of you, now pooling onto the sheets. "What is that stuff coming out?" Your question came out embarrassed and shy, and Joel silently pats himself on the back for not groaning aloud.

"That's what happens when you're feelin' good, silly girl," Joel grins from ear to ear. His fingers touch your bare pussy for the first time, so soft and fucking wet under his fingertips. When he parts your pussy lips, spreading them wide like succulent flower petals, he can hear the faint wet noise, along with strings of your arousal connecting from one lip to another.

"Is... Is that normal?" Shyly asking him, your hips couldn't stop shifting. Having Joel play with your pussy like this was so foreign and weirdly not uncomfortable. It felt natural with him. You felt safe under his experienced, calloused hands.

Joel hums affirmatively. His attention was more focused on the wetness pooling on his middle finger. He fucking aches to sink his finger deep inside your cunt to feel your tight walls sucking him in. As he pulls his finger away, a string of slick follows and is shown to you.

" You see how messy you are, babydoll?" He smirks at the expression on your face. "Now, when you get like this, the only way for it to go away is for Daddy to clean it up with his tongue."

That makes sense. Joel knows more about this than you do. If he says one thing that might not be factual, you'll believe him with all of your heart. Also, the idea of your stepdad cleaning up your stickiness with his warm, wet tongue was exciting and you were curious to know what it feels like. He can see the realization settle on your face.

When you look back and forth from his finger and his mouth, the words spill out before you could stop them, "Will you clean me up?"

Joel's smirk widens, and he pops his finger into his mouth before he moves onto his knees. The taste of your tangy sweetness on his tongue made him go fucking insane. To know that he's the first man to touch you like this, to taste you on his desperate tongue made the ferocious beast within him thrash in its crate.

"Lie back, babydoll," he instructs you by gently pulling your body down, so you rest comfortably against the pillows. "Attagirl."

Joel's hands then gently slide under the crook of your knees, delicately parting your thighs and bringing your knees closer to your chest. This movement results in your labia spreading further apart, your engorged clit peeking out cutely while your empty opening quivers needlessly--so intensely pink and dripping with arousal. A soft groan escapes Joel's lips as he settles on his stomach, gradually moving his head closer until it rests snugly between your thighs. Lowering his head, his nose barely brushes against your clit as he takes a deep breath in. The aroma of your arousal causes him to see stars dancing behind his closed eyelids.

"Goddamn, you smell so fuckin' good, sweetheart," he sounds so wrecked and already fucked out. The fact that you have such a hold on him was catastrophic. This was a dangerous game he was playing. He knew there was no going back.

Opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, he glides the warm muscle from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit. Upon feeling his tongue licking your pussy up and down, you let out a soft yelp that was quickly muffled from the palm of your hand. Your eyebrows twitch and your eyes flutter as Joel's tongue leisurely moves in circles around your clit before the swollen button is pulled between his lips and sucked on. The ceiling became blurry, your vision spotted with squiggly lines and black dots.

"Mmmm," Joel hums around your clit, the vibrations forcing another yelp from your covered mouth. He pulls his lips off with a wet pop before lowering his tongue to slurp up your slick messily and sloppily. "Tha's my girl. Jus' lie back 'n let Daddy clean up your mess."

Then, he starts ravishing your cunt. His hooked nose, his long tongue, his plump lips, his scruffy chin, his fucking sharp jaw were all covered in a concoction of your slick and his saliva. Joel's a messy eater, for sure. His big hands tighten in the crook of your knees, forcing your legs to spread wider apart and pinning you down further into the bed when you start squirming under his working mouth.

The wet sounds of Joel eating your cunt had you blushing from the top of your head to the painted tips of your toes. He flicks his tongue against your clit, leaning his head up briefly to spit onto your clit before eagerly licking it all the way down to your fluttering hole. The sounds you released are music to his ears. He's groaning and humming pleasantly against your soaking pussy. When he pulls away for a third time, strings of your slick are stuck to his chin and bottom lip. You glanced down at him with parted lips and unfocused eyes.

"Keep going!" You nearly wailed, hips trying to buck into his mouth, which he pulls away each time you buck up. "Please, Daddy. Oh, please, please, please keep going. I'm-I'm starting to feel so tingly."

Joel sits up suddenly, using one hand to go behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head. He yanks the clothing from his broad shoulders and throws it carelessly to the ground. Then, he pops open the button of his jeans, sighing heavily with relief as the tightness around his hard cock disappears. As he slides down his jeans, he sees your eyes almost bug out of your head. He laughs at that.

"Easy there, little girl," he mutters and fully slides off his jeans, once again tossing the article of clothing blindly across the room. "Ain't gonna fuck you jus' yet, babydoll. You still got a lot to learn before I think you're smart 'nough to handle me."

Your shoulders deflate when you hear that. Part of you was hoping Joel would go all the way with you, but he's right. There's still so much to learn and without his guidance, you'd be clueless and stuck. But that also means there is definitely going to be a sooner time until he takes your virginity. The thought casts a delightful shiver across your body; your stepdad taking your virginity--your mom's husband for crying out loud. It was better this way. If Joel thinks this is a good, sure thing, then so do you. Who are you to question his methods?

When Joel's head lowers back down between your thighs, you find the courage to gently curl your fingers through his hair. It was messy when he walked into your room, and you know you're only going to be messing it up even further when his mouth goes back onto your weeping cunt.

"Attagirl, babydoll," Joel murmurs against your cunt, his hot breath seeping across the throbbing bud and causing your hole to flutter. "Hold onto Daddy while he cleans her up." Her meaning your pussy.

Your mouth opens once his tongue grinds against your clit. Eyebrows twitching and eyes shutting, your head falls back and your fingers tighten in his hair as he licks, sucks, slurps, and swallows. Your thighs begin to twitch on either side of his head. Joel's fingers dig into your plush skin, gripping the meat and holding you steady. Moans start spilling from your lips when his tongue licks all around your hole before focusing on your clit again.

The tingling warmth comes back, now settling deep in the pit of your tummy and spreading along your upper thighs and clit. It's almost equivalent to peeing. And so, with a worried shout, you frantically try to push Joel's head away, but he doesn't budge an inch.

"I'm-I'm gonna... I'm gonna pee! Daddy, move!"

Your frantic whines are ignored. Joel only licks harder and faster, moving his head around in a circle to gather up as much slick as he can. He grabs both of your wrists and tightens his hands around them, pulling them away from his head and pressing them down on either side of your hips on the bed. His broad shoulders are doing a perfect job at keeping your legs from shutting completely. With your feet kicking at his back and your hips grinding towards and away from his mouth, you have no other choice but to lie there, like he said, and take it.

"Oh, my God," your voice was unrecognizable--breathy, high pitched, and slurred. The knot gets tighter and tighter. The warmth was nearly burning your gut. Your hole fluttered and began to tighten on its own. And with an arched back, you simply let go.

Joel can feel it before you do. As your back arched beautifully, your entire body tensed and your pussy spasmed against his chin. Your moans were stuttering and confused and so, so cute. Your words were slurring together--Daddyohmygodohplease. He shakes his head back and forth to further rub your clit without removing his tongue from the needy little bud. The action caused your body to shake.

Does he stop? Absolutely fucking not. He only grips your wrists tighter, most likely leaving bruises, and eats your pussy like a starved man at an All-You-Can-Eat buffet.

At this point, you're on cloud nine. It feels like you're submerged deep underwater, your sights blurry and your hearing muffled. You can't see or think, only feel. And what you feel is electrifying. Your nerves are buzzing all over, almost like static electricity running through your veins. The only thing that made you come back down to earth was the distinct and distant voice of Joel. He's saying something, but you're not sure what. You can only make out the words like that and good.

Panting heavily, your hips shift, and you feel a sudden surge of tingles spreading like wildfire along your lower half. It was addicting. Intoxicating, even. You can almost taste it on your tongue.

Joel observes you from between your thighs as you're coming back down from your first orgasm ever. The intensity nearly made you blackout. Your mom had never looked that pretty cumming from his mouth for the first time, ever. Seeing her daughter doing it because of his tongue made him want to whip his dick out right then and there and shove it so deep inside your needy pussy. But he won't do that. He's a patient man--for the most part.

His thick tongue sloppily eats you out. The taste and heady scent made him pussydrunk. His eyes were half-lidded as he swallowed down the combination of pussy juice and his saliva. He's so sure that after he wipes your wetness off his nose and mouth, he's still going to be smelling and tasting you for days.

Your speech is still slurred by the time you glance down at what he's doing to you. The pupils in your eyes are so wide that your irises are nearly black. Your baby hairs are matted to your forehead from sweat. There's a pretty glow on your skin from your first orgasm. You wondered just how much more you could take before you have to tap out--if Joel even allows that.

Speaking of which, he still doesn't stop. His jaw works tirelessly to scoop up your wetness. He's practically drowning between your thighs, a specific type of death that sounds like heaven on earth. Your labia are puffy under his tongue and your clit throbs rhythmically between his lips. The wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth working against your pussy made you blush fiercely.

"I... I... mmph," you could barely speak as you fell back again, desperately trying to pull your wrists free from Joel's tight hold on them. Your feet weakly kick at his muscled back, but he makes no point in stopping.

He laughs against you. He fucking laughs. The vibrations make your thighs almost clamp around his head if it weren't for his wide shoulders keeping you spread open for him. Joel pulls up for a split second to spit on your clit once again before going back down to lick you all over again. Your eyes cross and roll into the back of your head. Your hips are now mindlessly grinding up and down against his tongue.

"Tha's it," his response is muffled.

When he glances up at you, seeing your chest arched to the ceiling again, he releases your wrists and slides his hands up your arms. Both hands yank down your top with enough force that it causes one of the straps to snap off. You barely register the pain of your tank top rubbing your skin like a rug burn as you're so deep into cloud nine again.

Joel's hands cup and caress your tits, his fingers squeezing and grabbing them eagerly. His thumbs rub your nipples until they harden. Then, he's back to slurping and eating pussy like tomorrow is the end of the world and he only has tonight to show you what he can really do with his mouth. The feeling of his hands on your tits, pinching your nipples and fondling your sensitive flesh has the tingling sensation come back. This time it was a lot sharper and stronger.

Joel knows what's about to happen. It's only happened once with your mom, in all the years of being with her. And now it's going to happen with you. Like mother, like daughter. He removes his hands from your tits and places them back under your knees, further spreading your thighs to get better access to your sweet nectar hidden between your pussy lips. He doesn't even care if his jaw is on fire right now.

"I-I... Da-... aaahh-haaahh!"

Your little squeal comes first, then a steady stream of wetness splashes against his chin and chest as he ferociously sucks your clit and flicks his tongue fast and hard, just how you liked it. He fucking did it. He made you squirt for the first time. And god-fucking-damn, it was the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. It was better than any whiskey that ever touched his tongue. Now, your body can't stop shaking. Your thighs are trembling terribly, and Joel has to pull away to gently close them shut. Your breathing is labored and unsteady, your eyes shut tightly and body tense.

"Breathe for me, sweetheart," Joel murmurs gently, brushing your hair from your sweaty face and blowing cold air on your skin. "Jus' like that. C'mon, pretty girl. There we go."

The aftershocks coursing through your body are unmanageable, no matter how hard you tensed your body to stop them. Joel leans over your shaking body and kisses up and down your neck, humming quietly against your skin and lowering further down to kiss and suck at your chest. He glances up and sees your eyes are still shut as you try to relax. He takes advantage of this opportunity to suck one of your puffy nipples into his mouth and licks all around the erect bud, no doubt spreading your pussy juice that he still hasn't wiped from his nose, mouth, cheeks, and chin.

"Daddy?" You weakly asked, your thighs still shaking, but not as much as before. "That felt... That felt so, so good." Letting out a drowsy giggle, you covered your face and wiggled excitedly. You had came so hard. Not once, but twice. And the second time you squirted. You would often hear about squirting from your experienced friends. They described it as peeing, but it's not really pee, but it feels and looks like pee, but it's completely different, but also the same.

Smiling at your reaction, Joel removes your hands from your face, further leaning into your space with his head aligned with your own. The two of you share eye contact for a brief moment before he starts to kiss you. The groan he lets out when your lips touch has you grinding your hips again, desperately chasing something--you don't know what. When your tongues touch, you catch the faint tracings of what you taste like, and it's pretty yummy. It's almost sweet with a hint of tanginess. It almost tastes like your strawberry kiwi juice. Joel opens your mouth wider with his jaw to suck your tongue into his mouth before he coaxes you to do the same. The kiss was so dirty and frantic, drool pooling at the corners of your lips before sliding down your chin.

Joel pulls away to lick it up before shoving his tongue back inside your mouth. When he pulls away again, your eyes are still shut. "Open your mouth," he commands, his voice rough and gravely as he tries to hold back the beast within him. When you don't do what he says quick enough, he pops your cheek with the palm of his hand a little harder than intended. You yelped and your eyes flew open from the smack. Your cheek was burning, no doubt blooming pink from the force. "I said, open your fuckin' mouth." Joel squeezes your jaw roughly and forces your mouth open. You know what's going to come, so you stick out your tongue without being asked to and that pleases him.

A wad of spit lands on your tongue before Joel goes back to licking his way into your mouth, further spreading your slick from his face onto yours and your shared saliva dripping down your chin. Everything about this kiss was so dirty and filthy and represents your relationship with him. When you pull away from air, Joel sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it with a wet pop. He attacks your neck in biting kisses again.

The sensation of his beard tickled, thus causing you to giggle under his partially hovering body. Joel's shoulders shake as he chuckles against your marked skin. He flops down next to you, propping his head up with one hand while his arm rests on the bed. With his other hand, he draws you close to his chest. You hum gently and snuggle into him with ease.

"Daddy?" Softly speaking, you play with the collar of his shirt and shyly look up at him. "Do you think tomorrow... maybe you could show me how to... do stuff with my mouth, uh, on you?"

The unexpected question made Joel smile from ear to ear. He didn't even have to ask, or even tell you. This was something you thought about all on your own. There's a certain glint in his eyes as he looks at you. It's predatory and dark, and it makes you uncomfortable. His arm tightens around your waist to keep you from moving away.

"I don't know, babydoll," he says with mock sympathy, pushing a few strands of hair away from your hands. "You're not smart enough yet. You know that, you silly girl." As he pokes your nose, he almost wants to laugh at the sight of your pout. "Don't give me that pout." He pats your cheek with a little force again, forcing the pout to leave your lips when he glares at you.

As he lays back on the bed and pulls you into his side, Joel stares up at the ceiling. A plan forms in his head: do whatever you can to make her need you and no one else. A sadistic smile slowly makes its way onto his face. He's close. Just one more day until he can permanently get into your head and fucking tear you apart with his bare hands.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @blueberrypancakesworld @heyhihello-4771 @codenamekitten @chamepagnessimo @idioticcatss @takochansugoi @zjasminelouvre3 @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm

!! please let me know if you wanna be added or removed !!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller x reader #stepdad!joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller tlou

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wonton4rang · 4 months

Note

how would bnd legal line react to them making you squirt for the first time?

(love your acc btw!😙)

hiii <33 ofc !! (I luv yours too💖💖)

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pairing: bnd legal line (everyone but woonhak)

warnings: smut +18, squirting, unprotected sex (do not try at home !!) and I think that's about it.

summary: how would bnd legal line (everyone but woonhak) react to them making you squirt for the first time.

note: please send something about woonhak :') i want to write something about him so bad but i am ✨blank✨, what do y'all think about high school crush with ot6?

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sungho; he is such a giver I'm afraid, his top priority would be make you enjoy the whole thing, that doesn't mean that he won't take care of himself, though. so when you guys are having some intimacy for the first time in a while, you are very overwhelmed, he could tell by the way you were moaning his name into his ear and pressing your hands in his wide naked back. you were so sensitive that your pussy kept clenching around his dick, making him leave the crook of your neck to look into your eyes without stopping his pace "you good, baby? feeling good?" he would try to reassure himself and when you nodded and let out a cry he got his answer. "please, sungho, I'm going to-" your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he just kept going while attentively listening to you. "I'm coming, I'm coming, sungho, pull out" but he knew that was not true, not with the way your arms grabbed around his neck and your hips started to thrust up. but when you actually came your eyes flew open and sungho's did too, his movements coming to a stop while he looked at your eyes and the place where you two were linked. "I'm so sorry-", "you squirted?" you got nervous because you thought he might get angry for the mess, he was such a clean person so you stuttered before he continued "did you feel that good, y/n? you look so pretty right now" his smile made your muscles relax and you just laughed a bit, he helped you get clean because he just noticed that he also came after that event so you both just went to bed afterwards.

riwoo; i honestly think he would be soooo proud of himself, he is so sweet but i can see him being very into passionate sex, touching your body with precise hands to reach every single nerve that drives you crazy. he would not be a very vocal one when it comes to talking but I can definitely seeing him smiling at you with so much appreciation that it just melts you, giving in to his touches and opening your legs more so that your pelvis can touch in more depth. he's so into you (quite literally) that he doesn't even feels when you squirt all over him, he can only hear your moans and cries while your pussy clenched around him and made him cum too. "baby, I'm so sorry" you muttered when you saw him looking down with panicked eyes, riwoo's eyes pawned to yours and he said "I'm so sorry, I came inside, babe, I-" but he couldn't even finish the sentence when he added "you came so hard?" he was slightly surprised but again, his chest inflated in a way his shame went away after you reassured him that it was fine that he came inside. he kissed you so softly and whispered against your lips just how much he loved you and how intrigued he was with this new discovery.

jaehyun; you guys would be touching each other in his bed, kissing since half an hour ago and both of your bottoms already left behind, your left hand was jerking him off, his middle and anular finger pushed deep inside your soaked cunt while his tongue played yours in a way only him could. you had your eyes shut closed and your legs started to shake before you tried to close them too, the action alerted jaehyun who cut the kiss to look at your blushed face "did I hurt you?" he softly asked before trying to pull his fingers out of you but your hand stopped him while you shake your head in denial "it feels so good but I'm scared I might... you know... make a mess" jaehyun did not understood what you meant by that right away, only picking up on it a few seconds later when you lowered your head. "oh... oh! if you say it because of me, I don't mind! in fact, that'd be great" he encouraged you "but your sheets" a shush made you silent and his lips were on yours again for a short fraction of time before his fingers flicked up inside of your pussy "you can soak my sheets, baby, please cum for me" and the way his fingers moved in your insides was crazy, the tips of his digits constantly hitting that bulge of nerves when he curled them, his lips making you breathless and your own hand being thrusted into when you couldn't concentrate on moving it anymore. it was so hot, so exciting, your tights got tense and you tried to close your legs again but it was useless, he made you come with the last two thrusts and the way his hand and leg got wet with your squirt made you feel ashamed, just so he could kiss you again with that dumb smile in his lips "you think we could do this again sometime?" you just punched him playfully in his shoulder before he helped you up and led you to the bathroom, giving you some towels so you could shower before cuddling all night in his couch.

taesan; shower sex with taesan was not a weird thing, in fact, you guys did it pretty often since you both came tired from work but still wanted to share some intimacy so you showered together and one thing took to the other. like now, one of your legs being held up by your boyfriend, your arms holding on his shoulders and you two kissing like two addicts, so desperately that it was almost obscene, loud kissing noises coming out of your mouths when your tongues met each other. "can i go in, love?" you would just nod and resume the kiss, your pussy pulsating when you felt taesan's dick slide through your folds and then press in your wet entrance. "please, baby, go in" he loved when you were so sensitive for him, so willing, so ready, it turned him on like a flame, so he just pushed inside, throwing his head back with a low groan, his wet hair flicked back when he came back to face your contorned face, a grin on his lips that made you wanna cry. "hold on tight, pretty, i can't take it slow right now" and you certainly did not needed him be slow, so when he started thrusting into you, you just let him, your boobs wiggling with every thrust he gave you, feeling him so deep made you dizzy. "tae... slow down a bit" but he didn't want to, and neither did you. "just a little bit more, y/n, please" and how could you say no when you were feeling so good it made you drool all over your chin, only to be kissed aggressively by your pretty boyfie before you could feel him lowering his body so he could grab your other leg and pick you up, he pushed your legs up and practically pressed you against the shower wall. that friction between his pelvis and yours was all you needed before squirting all over him, his dick falling off your cunt only for him to lick his lips at the sight and push back in, making you gush and moan loudly about how overstimulated you felt. "you're so good for me, love, I'm almost done, just a little more" but when he finally came with two harsh thrusts, you squirted again, making him laugh a little before letting you go back in your feet. "good thing that we decided to do this here, you made such a mess" he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed you softly, he was not surprised but he was definitely going to induce you more in order to see this show again.

leehan; it was a great idea for you guys to live in an apartment complex with pool, especially when your house was the penthouse and had a personal pool and jacuzzi in the rooftop. it was great for spending time or even to invite your friends over, but leehan had something else in mind for today, inviting you to swim with him at 12am and excusing himself by saying that there was too much sun in the afternoon. you didn't mind, it was just a few steps until the rooftop and you liked to swim AND spend time with your boyfriend so it was a win win. as soon as you guys got there he jumped in the pool, making you giggle while you turned around it to sit in the edge before jumping in but his hands stopped you when they held your tights from inside the pool "you look so pretty with that bikini" he managed to whisper with his low voice, his fingers grabbing around the waistband of your panties and pulling a little bit before you stopped his hand with yours "what are you doing?" you looked around a little panicked "you know this is a public area, right?" a shrug was your answer before he came closer to you, his chin resting in your tights before he spoke up "let me eat you out, y/n" you could never get used to how direct his words were, a blush running through your cheeks as you tried to talk him out of it but when leehan had something fixed in his mind, it was useless. so that's how you ended up with your legs spread open in the edge of the pool while he eagerly ate you out, his tongue wetting your whole cunt, flicking your clit for a bit before slowly and deeply thrusting into your gapping hole with his tongue. he kept placing open mouth kisses in your pussy and he now got his right thumb to play with your clit, his other hand keeping your legs open. it was all so sexy, especially when you grabbed his wet long hair to press him more into your pussy and practically grind on his face, and he just let you, he loved every single thing that was happening. but when he got two fingers in you without notice, you opened your eyes wide, receiving a kiss in your lips when he jumped out the pool to lay you down in the floor instead, kissing your lips with hunger and madly curling his fingers to hit your spot, needless to say that you came undone a few seconds after the switch, squirting all over his hand only for him to leave your lips and kiss your pussy instead, tasting your squirt with some satisfied moans against your cunt that sent shivers through your spine due to the vibrations. "stop doing that" you told him, you were just so ashamed for everything right now. "you think you can do it again? I want you to cum in my mouth now" yes, your boyfriend was crazy and he was not going to rest until you squirted all over his pretty face.

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this progressively got longer but I ain't even regretting, hope y'all enjoyed~ 🫶

#boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor x reader #leehan smut #leehan x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #riwoo smut #riwoo x reader #taesan smut #taesan x reader #sungho smut #sungho x reader

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umnitsa · 3 months

Text

Still a dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs. Well, we all have needs.

A/N: Ok, so. Look, I'm gonna be honest: life kicked my ass, I just got into college (again eeee), god knows how this is gonna go, but here, I heard you all: I wanted more and there is more. I can't help myself, I want this man in dirty, horrible ways. Thanks @romanarose, for the pair of eyes and as always, thanks for everyone who asked for more and cheered me with this. Really, I can't thank you enough.

(I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, specially with the way life is going now. Although part of me wants to get to three thousand sex scenes, I need to be honest: not even I know if this will continue. Don't wanna give y'all false promises.)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, me trying dirty talk and failing miserably, a handjob, very much predator/prey dynamics

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

Joel behaved as if nothing happened, and so did you.

Things were somewhat tense though. Not for Joel, no. The man just smirked everytime he saw you then lowered his head and chuckled, as if he knew something you didn’t know.

You had to admit it bothered you.

Cocky bastard.

You moved into the kitchen, needing some water. You could hear the faint sounds of tv in the living room, so Joel was sitting down on his recliner, watching some late night sports.

You wondered if Joel would want a snack before sleep, as you filled your cup distractedly. You took a drink, considering the options in the fridge, when a loud cheering sound comes from the living room. You startled, the glass shatters on the floor with a loud noise and your yelp.

“What happened?” Joel yelled from the living room, concern clear in his voice.

“I just dropped a glass, Joel! You don’t need to worry, I’m gonna clean it.” You said, getting on your knees carefully. You placed your hands on the floor and lowered your face to see better. Glass was tricky to see.

You checked the floor, picking the pieces of glass and piling them together; you thought of getting a bag, or some paper to wrap them on after making sure all the glass was retrieved.

“Mmmm…” you heard, and you turned your head back. Joel was at the kitchen door, looking down intensely at your ass. “Such a heavenly view… Makes me wanna get on my knees… Worship your asshole and your pretty pussy with my tongue.” Joel licked his lips and you blushed.

“Joel!” You said, sternly.

“What?” He asked, no shame whatsoever.

“Come on.” You complained, picking the rest of the shattered glass as quickly as you could. As you move angrily you felt a sharp sting of pain. “Fuck!”

Joel quickly wobbled by your side and watched your bleeding finger.

“Here, honey… Leave it. We can clean it later.” He offered you his broad hand, suddenly overflowing with gentleness. “Lemme see your hand.”

You stood up, mesmerized by his eyes, and show you his hand. He held it between his calloused, big, bony ones and slowly leaned to suckle on the tip of your finger.

You were so mesmerized by his deep brown eyes focused on yours, glinting with mischief, that you only realize what he is doing with the first gentle swipe of his tongue against your skin. He gently swirled his tongue around your fingertip, suckling softly; he was showing you what he can do with your clit.

He smirked when you moaned, still holding your wrist with one hand, the other moving down out of your sight.

Joel sighed deeply, in relief, and you realized he opened his pants and took his cock out. He massaged the shaft slowly and you could only watch, dumbrounded, your mouth half open.

“He always wakes up for you, honey.” Joel chuckled. “I thought we were retired, but there he is. Since you came into the house my pants got way too tight. I keep thinking of making you my three-hole-wonder, honey.” He licked his lips and smirked. “Maybe you should give him a little kiss, at least to calm him down.”

The old man looked down, pouting and doe eyed, then back to your face. You found it hard to resist him, when he looked at you like that.

“We can’t do this, Joel.” You swallowed your saliva, considering his cock. It was long, and thick, from tip to base, the head an angry purple that made you want to suck on it. You considered the pain and the stretch he would give you, and the more you thought, the more you wanted to just give in. “I’m supposed to care for your needs.” You said, distractedly.

Your mouth watered and you licked your lips.

“We are both adults.” His eyebrows raised, and he cocked his head. “This is clearly a need. And only you can care for this one.” He smirked again, proudly. His hand kept moving, in this slow, hypnotizing pace.

“So you don’t do this to the day nurse?” You scoffed.

“She’s not my type.” Joel shrugged, a playful expression in his eyes. “Way too young and way too thin.” After a moment of silence, Joel steps forward and holds your hand. He watched your reactions carefully, sliding his calloused thumb over the back of your hand.

You didn’t move.

Joel raised your hand to his face and spit on your palm. You jumped, startled; another chuckle came from him, filling the space between you. Gently, he wrapped your hand around his cock. His big, bony fingers engulfed yours, guiding you into his rhythm.

His cock felt a bit soft at first, but it still got bigger and harder in your hand.

“Mmmmm… Haven’t felt this good in decades.” He muttered, his voice low, eyes closed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered, more a reminder to yourself than a refusal.

“Not standing in the kitchen, we shouldn’t.” Joel growled. “But you didn’t give me much choice… You keep running, bunny. I’d rather taste you, but I take what I can get.”

“I… I…” You lost your words as you look into his eyes. He watched you intensely, his eyes locked into yours. You felt like he was drinking every single one of your reactions, a hawk-eyed creature looming over you, ready to devour you whole.

“Give in, honey.” His voice was gentle, soft, in contrast with the hunger in his expression. “It will make our nights much more fun.”

You whined, leaning forward, your eyes closed. You felt Joel’s lips against yours, one big hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you closer. He growled into the kiss. Your whole body tensed; you squeeze him, the meaning of what you’re doing suddenly very real.

Joel’s fingers clenched, tugging on your hair tightly. Your head moved back; you gasped as Joel’s slips slid down your jaw, towards your ear.

“Wanna run, bunny?” He whispered, his voice suddenly soft. “Don’t run. Just wanna ruin you a little bit.”

His hand squeezed yours; you followed his move, squeezing his cock. Joel moaned, cock twitching in your hand. He moaned loudly, hips thrusting forward. Grunting, he came; some of it transferring to your hand, some splashing against your thigh.

Joel stepped back, releasing you, a smug satisfied smile on his lips.

“See? Just a little bit.” He chuckled, pulling himself into his pants.

“Joel, we shouldn’t…”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to keep trying, you would have told me. Or Sarah.” Joel huffed, interrupting you impatiently. “She would have killed me by now.”

“How do you know… You could lie to her and she would believe you.”

“I raised her right. And hell if she doesn’t know exactly the kind of man I am.” Joel chuckled, looking at you with a warm, appreciative smile. He shrugged. “You keep saying we shouldn’t, we can’t… You just don’t say we won’t.”

You bristled, puffing your chest and placing your hands on your hips, glaring at him. Your mouth half open, a thousand million tiny things you could say bubble in your throat.

“Go on. Just say: Joel, I won’t play this game with you. Stop right now.” Joel stood in front of you, watching your expression carefully.

The silence extended between you both.

You considered saying it, but you knew it would not be true. Deep inside you wanted him to hunt and ruin you. His smile broadened slowly, as the silent seconds went by. You blushed, lowering your head. You shook it gently.

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped closer to you, even his voice smug. “It’s ok, honey.” Joel caressed your hair, burying his fingers into the strands. He pulled your hair, making you look at him. “Nothing wrong with wanting this.”

Joel kissed you, hungry, impatient, devouring.

Then he left, informing you he would have an early night with a wink.

#maycore #mayb writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #dirty old man joel #peepaw can fuck #with some help #but he really can #peepaw will fuck #I see you all and we are one #I wanna break his hip (affectionate)#i need some dirty dirty talk classes #I can't bring my own image to reality and it's sad

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elliesonlyhoe · 6 months

Text

Loser!ellie headcannons .ᐟ ⭐

A/N .ᐟ First set of hcs..😭 lmk if y'all want a pt. 2

Loser! Ellie who lowkey has a collection of plushies that all have names, ages, and probably birthdays (specifically dinosaur ones)

Loser! Ellie Who could not flirt for shit the first few months you guys were dating.. But you on the other hand? Always trying to mess with the poor girl until she's a flustered mess.

Loser! Ellie Who had been too much of a pussy to ask you out for the longest time, just for you to already know she liked you.

Loser! Ellie Who still can't look you in the eyes without getting nervous.

You were sitting in the living room beside Ellie talking to her about how one of your coworkers had pissed you off today while Ellie was looking anywhere but you. “Els? Are you listening?..” You said, tapping your preoccupied girlfriend on the shoulder in order to get her attention.

“I- I am…” Ellie mumbled, still looking away, the tips of her ears a bright shade of scarlet. You looked at Ellie noticing what was going on, you chuckled to yourself quietly “That's unfortunate.. My own girlfriend, the love of my life, doesn't even want to look at me? How upsetting..” You tease, as Ellie turns to look over at you, her cheeks a bright shade of red “I never said that!” She replies quickly before looking away once again “You're just.. so fuckin’ perfect..” Her own words cause her to be even more embarrassed prior to how much she was before. You try to hold in your giggles as you pull your girlfriend closer to you “I love you s'much, you know that?” you say in between your uncontrollable giggles “ I love you too..” she mutters back “And don't be a dick. Stop fuckin’ laughing at me” She adds before resting her head on your shoulder. You continue to giggle, which makes Ellie start giggling too.

After a few moments of you two continuously laughing your asses off, you pressed a soft kiss on Ellies forehead. “Now, Tell me about your day, love.” You smile as Ellie begins to give you a rundown about everything she had done that day.

Loser! Ellie who has a separate sketchbook to fill with small doodles of dinosaurs, planets, and occasionally drawings of you.

Loser! Ellie who never fucking sleeps, like this girl will be up til’ late at night doing lord knows what.

Loser! Ellie who hates when you beat her at any game, girl will start making up the most random excuses as to why she lost, sometimes if you tease her about losing she even goes to the extent of giving you the silent treatment

Loser! Ellie who loves spooning (defo calls big spoon before you guys are even ready to head to bed, yet still ends up being little spoon sometimes.)

Loser! Ellie who acts like it's the end of the world when she accidentally interrupts you while you're speaking. Like I'm talking non-stop apologizing and always arguing with you on whether she should continue what she was saying or if you should finish speaking (you always find a way to win the argument nonetheless)

Loser! Ellie who has the humor of a middle school boy.

Loser! Ellie who probably eats lunchables 4/7 days of the week.

“Els, there's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry!” you callout before walking into the kitchen to see your girlfriend standing there like she got caught red handed, holding a half eaten pizza lunchable in her hand

“I'm not even surprised.” You say arms crossed, shaking your head slightly

“What?! They're good!” Your girlfriend argues back, taking another bite of her mini pizza

“Okay Els.” you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully

“Hey! Don't roll your eyes at me..” Ellie scoffs “Don't knock it til' you try it.”

Loser! Ellie who has a backpack filled with space and dinosaur themed pins (also probably pins with corny ass memes on them.)

Loser! Ellie who either can't accept a compliment, or gets abnormally flustered by your compliments. (It all depends on the day tbh😭🙏)

Loser! Ellie who ADORES taking walks with you near lakes, creeks, and ponds.

A/N .ᐟ I love Loser!ellie so much omdysss🙏❤

#ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #wlw #ellie headcanons #loser ellie #tlou fic

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luvs4jhutch · 8 months

Text

I had a vision...

Fanfic type: Blurb, smut. Pairing: afab fem!reader x Mike Schmidt Word count: 882 words A/N: I had some problems while writing this, I hope y'all like it. Please repost if u liked it, it would be very nice 🫶

Warnings: Creampie, p in v, smut with no plot, teasing, praising, overstimulation.

And I shouldn't cry, but I love it...

✧ "Oh... oh fuck... Mike!" you called his name, rolling your eyes back. You were on your tiptoes, leaning as best you could on the kitchen counter. He had had you bareback for about 30 minutes and he didn't seem to want to stop.

You hugged his neck with your right arm, your back arched against his chest as his hands moved your hips against him to his own liking.

"Y' doing so fucking good for me..." he groaned to your ear. You bit your lip. Your mascara was ruined by crying from pleasure. You were so dumb on his cock and he knew it.

One of his hands caught your breast, while the other increased the pace of the thrusts. "You like to have me stretching out this tight, little pussy of yours, don't ya'?" he teased.

You leaned your whole body on the counter 'cause you didn't have enough strength to stand up straight, and Mike saw his chance. The hand that was on your boob earlier now grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, while his other hand, the one doing the work, gave you a couple of playful smacks on the butt and dished out some sweet caresses on your butt, thigh, and lower back.

He was messing up your mind and your body and you could not do anything about it.

With each thrust, you felt your body melting. Mike brought his hand to your swollen clit, massaging in circles, practically embracing you from behind, which simply made you roll your eyes back and bite your own arm in an attempt to control the desperate sounds coming from your mouth, a melody for your lover's ears.

Your tights were slightly trembling at the point, but the overstimulation was so good to even say something about it.

In a couple more thrusts, you felt your third wave of intense pleasure with a loud moan accompanying it. Mike eased up to help you come down from the high, but you couldn't help moving your hips frantically and unconsciously against his.

"Js' look at you… so desperate for my cock," he said while observing your eagerness. You whimpered something incomprehensible (since you couldn't really think straight at this point) and Mike saw it as a signal to go back to the pace he'd set earlier.

He groaned in pleasure as he felt you tightening around him once more, your juices coating his length. He thrust into you harder and you couldn't help but feel your insides clenching around his cock, a sensation you never wanted to end. Every thrust sent electric shocks through your system, making you see stars and feel like you were flying.

It felt so good. So fucking perfect. You moaned as he began to move faster, pushing your body up against the kitchen counter for leverage.

The sensation of his hands gripping your hips tightly and pulling you back towards him sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet but unable to suppress the sounds of pleasure that escaped from your throat.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, slamming his hips into yours. He picked up the pace tightening the grip on your hips.

"I'm close," he warned. You could feel the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive areas with each powerful thrust.

Mike leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You want me to cum inside you?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You were totally out of it, your eyes half-closed, tears of pleasure welling up. You didn't even hesitate before nodding desperately in agreement. He groaned to your ear while he felt closer and closer to his release.

"Oh fuck," he growled, coming inside you. Your body convulsed around his as you felt the waves of pleasure wash over you.

You felt his warmth fill you up and with a loud moan, you came too, your body shuddering around his. Your juices dripped down onto the floor as he continued to pump his seed deep inside of you.

After a few more moments, Mike pulled out of you, his cock slippery with your juices. He stumbled back a step, panting heavily. You slumped forward, resting your forehead on the kitchen counter.

After a few minutes catching your breaths Mike picked you up gently, cradling you in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, your head resting on his shoulder as he walked.

Once in the bedroom, Mike laid you down on the bed and cleaned up the mess you've made. Then he helped you put on one of his hoodies so you didn't get cold. He then climbed in next to you, pulling you close.

You both lay there panting heavily, feeling your hearts race against each other's. Mike's arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close. He kissed your forehead softly as he looked into your eyes, which were barely open.

"That was amazing," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

You smiled contentedly, whispering back something like "I love you". Feeling safe and loved in his arms, your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it calmed you down.

#Spotify #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike fnaf #mike schmidt #fnaf smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark

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becauseimswagman1 · 6 months

Text

Toxic Love

A/N:.... it's been forever since I've posted...I'M BACK WITH THE SMUT GUYS. Don't be afraid to comment either!!!

A/N#2: he got some pretty teeth y'all

This for you @itsbackwoodsbby 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

(She wrote something for me. Gotta get her backkkk)

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

To say that you and your man are a toxic couple is downplaying just how toxic y’all actually are. He cheats and cheats, yet you stay. “Why?” is the million-dollar question. You could say you love him, but you could also say you love the money he makes. See your man is a drug dealer, but not just any ole drug dealer, he’s feared. He’s not to be messed with in any way, so what made you finally get his lying and cheating ass back? The most recent bitch he cheated on you with.

Her name is whor- Hazel. Hazel been tryna get at your man forever. You’re surprised he even fucked that fuck-anything-that-walks, homewrecking ass girl, but niggas will be niggas you guess. You’ve come to realize that they’ll fuck anyone and anything.

Anyways, you got him back by fucking his fine ass, big dick-having-ass cousin. Guess it really does run the family, but the dick was trash and the head was bomb, but if your man asks then all of it was better than him.

You could only imagine how crazy he acted once he found out, but he was almost done with his drops for the day so you’d find out in a minute or two.

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

You hear a car door slam and shortly after the front door slam too, “Ayo what the fuck am I hearing bout you fucking my cousin Dre?!”

You almost laughed, his anger was comical to you. You admit you did act like this when you found out he cheated the first time, but as smart as he is… you figured he would’ve figured everything out by now.

You shrugged at him, “Oh they talking about that already? Damn word get around fast. And don’t be slamming the doors in this house!”

“It’s true? You sit up here living this lavish ass lifestyle and you decide to act like one of yo lil friends and fuck anybody with a pulse.”

Okay, he was doing too much now. It’s not like you slept with half the motherfuckers in his gang unlike someone (Hazel).

You stood up off the couch, “Nah, Trevante fuck you! I don’t know why you tryna make me out to be some type of hoe but that shit not gone fly. Yo black ass acting like I fucked yo brother or something. It was just your cousin so back up off me.”

He walked over to you and got in your face, “Tell me that shit not true. Tell me it’s not so I can go pop the nigga that told me.”

Damn, did he have the grill in today? Top AND bottom too? Mhmmmm.

You stared up into his eyes as innocently as you could while he looked down at you, “Sorry baby, but… it’s true. And it was sooo good, too. He fucked me way better than you.”

God, he’s wearing the cologne that makes you soak your panties in record time.

“Oooooh now he’s better than me? I’ll murk that nigga right now, blood or not. Keep on testing me, ma.”

He’s gonna fuck you up. He’s no longer mad at the get back, but the thoughts of another man fucking you better and that you could possibly leave him because of that haunt him now.

“I’ll be here to wash your clothes when you get back. Just don’t come in here dripping blood and shit. It’ll be a bitch to get out our new carpets.”

Trevante could see how unphased you were about this whole thing and it only pissed him off more. You gave away your pussy and that belonged to him.

He grabbed your neck and got real close to your face, “Say he’s better than me again, and watch what happens to you.”

You smirked, this is exactly what you wanted, “He’s better than you. Maybe this will teach you not to fuck with dirty ass hoes.”

He chuckled, tightening his hold on your neck a little, “So you mad I fucked one of yo lil friends?”

“She’s not-” He cut you off, “Right. She’s not. But you really went out and did what you did as a get back? You put on your big girl panties and took a shot at me? That’s a mistake, baby.”

He pecked your lips then threw you over his shoulder, “You gone regret that shit.”

“Baby-”

“Nah, don’t “baby” me now. You was just talking all that shit, it’s time to put your money where your mouth is.”

Trevante took you to your shared room and sat you down on your feet then grabbed your neck again, making you look at him, “You gonna be good for Daddy?”

“Mhm.” you avoided his heated stare. You knew what he had in store for you was gone have you acting right...for now.

He tightened his grip on your neck, “Words ma, or you not gone get what you deserve.”

“I’ll be daddy’s good gir-” he adjusted your head to look at him in his eyes, “Good what?”

“I’ll be daddy’s good little slut.”

He pecked your lips and let your neck go, “Take your panties off. Ass up, face down.”

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

Taglist: lmk if you wanna be added or taken off

@prettyisasprettydoes1306 @thatone-girly

@blackerthings @roguekiki @enigmadivine

@novaniskye @ziayamikaelson @twocentuar

#becauseimswagman1 #x black reader #smut #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes smut #black fanfiction #black fanfic writer

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liaarxse · 1 year

Text

Get off damn it!

Headcanons

TR characters cuddling with you after a fight

Characters: The Kawata twins (separately), Matsuno Chifuyu, Manjiro Sano

Warnings: None, crack

A/n: This freeky AI bot is giving me way too many ideas.

Souya Kawata

Let's get straight to the point, you know it, he knows it, y'all cuddling after a fight ASAP

Not even a fight, even if it was just a meeting

Y'all cuddling ok? Ok.

He's usually pretty riled up after a fight and has more energy

Tells you all the drama bitch

Literally get out your notepad now

Maybe he let a tear fall here and there, but that's about it

But oh

Ohhh

OHOHOHOHOOOO

God forbid he straight up cries like in that one manga chapter (I can't remember which one it was)

Pray

Even if you don't pray, pray

Even if you are a Satanist, pray

Even if you're a God or a Devil, pray

You and Nahoya both know the shit that's about to go lose

Just stay put and wait for him

He comes to your place as if in a matter of seconds, changing and throwing himself onto you, breaking down

Well, shit.

He's cursing them out, saying how he beat their ass and would do it again, while crying

How?

Idk

Don't ask me they ain't real

But show this boy some love. He deserves it. Caress his scalp, play with his hair, place tender kisses on his face, and just hold him for a bit longer

He'll return the favor as soon as possible.

Nahoya Kawata

Ah, fuck, not again

He gets into a fight every single day

And always comes to your place so you can fix him up

"Hey baby."

"Nahoya your face is literally deformed what the fuck."

Just fix him

Not because he deserves it but because he's annoying as shit and won't leave you alone

Once, he broke your window and crawed into your room at 4 in the morning to tend his wounds

He paid for your therapy sessions dw

Since he's 24/7 injured, he always smells like blood

Like, ew?

Once he came by after a nasty fight all injured and blooded up

You gagged

LMAOOOOO

"Fuck you."

"Sure."

🤡

He always throws his bloody ass on your new sheets, and you go BERSERK

You once hit him in the head cough Deja Vu cough with a broom because he ruined your sheets

He smirked at that comment

You kicked him outside

He crawled back in and trapped you in a hug

That lasted all night

"Nahoya let go I need to pee."

"Bitch hold it in."

He loves you, i swear

Matsuno Chifuyu

Blooded your sheets on accident

Don't be mad please

Here, pet Peke J

You mad?

You don't get to pet Peke J

Loser\j

In all honesty, he's reckless.

Every. Fucking. Time. He comes by the next day you're restocking on aid supplies.

Stg he better start paying up

Once called you in the middle of a fight with his nose bleeding and a few bruises on his face

"I'm coming over later, babe!"

"MATSUNO HOLY SHI—"

He hung up

Your ass went CRAZY before he came knocking on your door

He was injured

A lot

Really

Is he half dead?

Will he make it through the night?

Will—

Hey he brought Peke J!

Everything Is fine

He cleaned up before cuddling with you but still managed to dirty your sheets

"You're lucky my son is here."

"That's my son, pussy."

Y'all love Peke J more than your relationship/j

He changed your sheets and went back to cuddling you

If needed he'll buy new ones

Baby boy, baby 🫶

Manjiro Sano

Bfr, you woke up, and your boyfriend was sleeping right next to you, beaten up

You screamed

He screamed

You threw a book at him

He got a concussion

Great, more blood

"Damn it Manjiro I just bought these sheets!"

"Are you insane?"

Maybe lol

After leaving the room you still felt the smell of blood.

Looking down you saw your favourite pj smeared with droplets of blood from none other than MIKEY

He had cuddled you while you slept personally in blooded clothes

You chased him with a pan

Seven AM the usual morning line-up

Start on the chores and sweep till the floor's all cleEeeeeEN

Imagine Mikey as Rapunzel though

Them dark impulses gon kick in hard up inside that tower

Give him love too, please, #helptakemichiwiththesemessedupbastards

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anangelwhodidntfall · 11 months

Text

Spooky Basket: Lewis Hamilton

Formula One Masterlist

word count: 800

description: You and your boyfriend surprise each other with spooky baskets for halloween

A/N: this was supposed to be posted halloween but work and school got in the way! So Happy Late Halloween 💖

Lewis was checking his notifications while he waited for you to get off of work when he saw your tweet that said "it's fine I didn't want a spooky basket anyway 😭." He closed out twitter and went to google to see what a boo basket was and began getting some ideas on what to do for you and decided to make you one for Halloween. He saw you walking out of your building and quickly locked his phone before climbing out of his car to come greet you.

"Hey sweetheart, I missed you. How was work today?" He asked wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your lips.

"Hey baby, I missed you too and it was alright, my feet are killing me and I'm hungry." You said.

"Well why don't we get you off your feet and go grab some takeout before we head home? And then after we eat, I'll give you a nice foot massage." He offered.

"That sounds nice. Hey do you think Saturday you could come with me while I grab the stuff I need for um Angelica's boo basket?" You asked him as he helped you into the car.

"Of course, you know I love spending time with you while you run errands." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

You guys headed to y'all's favorite takeout spot before heading home where you ate and were given the foot massage you were promised.

While you were at work the next few days Lewis worked on your spooky basket that way he wouldn't risk you finding out about it because he truly wanted to surprise you on Halloween with it and the special halloween flowers he was having made for you. After he finished it up he went your best friends house to leave it there until Halloween which was in two days so you didn't accidentally find it.

"She's gonna love this? And the flowers you are having made." Your best friend said as she looked at the basket.

"You think so? I've never done anything like this before but I saw her tweet and wanted to surprise her with it and the flowers." He said nervously.

"She's gonna love it Lewis just for the fact that you took the time to make it for her." She said squeezing his hand.

"Thank you again, I'll probably come get it Monday night if that's alright with you." He asked.

"That's perfect with me, and if I'm not here Kyle knows where it is and can give it to you." She said as Lewis nodded his head before heading out.

Your friend smiled after Lewis left, because little did Lewis know is that you had made him a spooky basket weeks ago and had been hiding it with her so he wouldn't find it.

It was the day before Halloween well more so a few hours before it and you and Lewis were on the couch watching a horror movie together when the doorbell rang. You looked at him confused as he got up to answer it before coming back inside with a huge bouquet of flowers.

"You got me flowers?" You asked him.

"Not just any flowers but special Halloween ones, I hope you like them." He said handing you the bouquet.

You took them and were shocked to see he had you custom flowers made that were decorated with ghostface and the wrapping paper said "let me murdered that pussy" which made you laugh.

"Thank you so much baby, I love them and as for that quote you will be never be denied doing that." You said as you kissed him.

"I'm glad you like them and good to know but this is part of your Halloween gift, do you want the other half now or do you want to wait until tomorrow?" He asked you.

"Would it be wrong to say I want it now because I'm curious to see what the other half is." You asked him.

"Not at all. I'll be right back sweets." He said placing a kiss on your forehead before disappearing down the hall.

A few minutes later he returns with a Halloween bucket in your hands and you look at him in shock because he didn't actually make you a spooky basket for you? Did he?? He handed you the basket and you wordless sat there looking through it which was making Lewis nervous.

"I'm sorry if this isn't the best but I tried because I know how much you wanted one. I hope you like it, i worked really..."he started to say before you threw your arms around him.

"Thank you...so much baby. You don't know how this means to me that you made this for me. I love it, the flowers and you so much." You said to him.

"Your welcome sweetheart. You know I do anything for you especially to see you smiling like you are right now. I love you so much sweetheart." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

"I love you Bubs. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go get your gift." You said leaving him confused as you disappeared down the hall.

Lewis sat there confused until you returned with your own spooky basket in hand that you walked over and handed to him.

"For you." You said as you took a seat next to him.

"Awh sweetheart you shouldn't have." He said as he looked through his basket.

"Of course I did. Your my man and you deserve a spooky basket as well." You said making him smile.

"Well thank you sweetheart, I love it and you so much. Happy Halloween my love." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

"Happy Halloween Bubs." You said smiling at him.

*BONUS*

Y/N added to their story!

Lewis Hamilton added to their story!

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine

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bitchin-beskar · 2 years

Text

Training

Rating: Explicit Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny) Warnings: Cockwarming!!! That's it that's the fic! ... jk theres a little more to it. Paz has a huge dick we all know it, and boy does he know how to use it. mentioned oral (f) receiving, mentioned fingering, overstim, big dick, dirty talk, mentions of continued overstim, dick so good u wanna cry, free use arrangement. AGAIN. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT FREE USE OR ANY OF THE OTHER THINGS ARE, YOU ARE TOO DAMN YOUNG. DO NOT READ. DO NOT INTERACT. GO AWAY. Literally Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Exactly what it says on the package. Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Here is another oneshot in the CAR!Paz au! This came about due to an ask sent in by @catsnkooks during this fun lil sleepover weekend! Feel free to send things to my inbox this weekend (or really any time!) This was intended to be a drabble and ended up being just over 2k, so uh, yeah. It's fine. I'm fine. I just wanna thank @catsnkooks, @tailorvizsla, @firstofficerwiggles, @mysticalgalaxysalad, and all the anons who have been encouraging the thirst for this wonderful au! Also thanks to @maybege whom without I likely wouldn't have even created this au, and I'm also gonna tag @ronnieiswriting, bc they sent me a lovely little dm about this au and I finished this tonight instead of waiting as a lil treat for them! Please lemme know what you think, I appreciate all the love y'all have given this au so far!!

Gods, he was gonna split you in half.

You stood completely naked, on shaky legs, in front of Paz where he was sitting on the couch, his chest bare and his sweatpants tugged down just enough for his cock to spring free, resting against the taut skin of his stomach, flushed and weeping. He looked far too composed for a man who’d just spent the better part of an hour fucking you on his fingers and his tongue to prepare you for what he wanted you to do.

It was fucking infuriating.

It was also hot as hell.

His lips curled into a cocky smirk, as if he could read your mind. You were very pointedly trying to keep your eyes trained on his face, which was made all the more difficult when he wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself. You couldn’t help yourself as your gaze flickered down to where his hand was wrapped around himself. Even with his own hand, he still looked disproportionately large, and not for the first time, you wondered how exactly your poor pussy was going to survive this... exercise.

“What’s wrong, bunny?” Even his voice was cocky, and even though Paz was your best friend, you felt a very strong urge to strangle him. Still, there was that little voice in the back of your head that was salivaiting at the mere thought of getting him inside you.

You were unreasonably proud at how steady you managed to keep your voice, given what your body had been subjected to and the looks he was leveling you with. “You’re not gonna fit, Paz.”

He didn’t answer right away, instead holding the hand not wrapped around his cock out to you, a silent request. You didn’t hesitate to step forwards and place your own hand in his, letting him tug you forward until you were standing inbetween his legs. Even like this, with him seated and you standing, you were looking him in the eyes. Paz was just that big.

“Don’t worry about that, bunny,” Paz said as he used his grip on your hand to encourage you to turn around, his hand moving to grasp your hip as he pulled you closer to him. You let him guide you, fingers clenching and unclenching in anticipation. He paused for a brief moment to swipe his fingers through your folds, an approving hum leaving him when he deemed you were still wet enough, before returning those fingers to his cock, slicking himself up with your release. Then, he was pulling you down, letting your weight rest mostly against his chest as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the sudden pressure, but made an effort to relax.

He made a soft shushing noise, his hand helping to steady you as he began to lower you down, the pressure increasing slowly until the head of his cock was suddenly inside you. You gasped slightly at the intrusion, your thighs tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. You’d had sex before, certainly, but your ex was a much smaller man. Even your toys had never been quite this large.

“P-Paz?” You breathed, voice shaking.

He immediately paused, and you could feel as he kissed the back of your bare shoulder briefly. “Yeah, bunny?”

“W-What if… what if you… d-don’t… what if you don’t…” You trailed off, suddenly embarrased. You were likely far less experienced than his previous partners, and you wondered-not for the first time-how exactly this arrangement was going to affect your relationship with Paz.

But Paz seemed to know what you were trying to say. He tutted softly, brushing his lips against the length of your throat, his smile soft against your skin. “Don’t worry, bunny,” he murmured, starting to work you down again, his cock slowly sliding further and further into you as your mouth fell open at the stretch.

“I’ll make it fit.”

The cocksure tone of his voice made you clench, and he immediately shushed you again, placing both hands on your waist and sitting up from where he’d been lounged against the couch cushions. You made a concerted effort at relaxing again, and you slipped a little further down his length.

The sensation of being slowly stuffed full of Paz’s cock was something you honestly had never imagined you’d get to experience. It was currently defying all expectation, and you weren’t entirely sure you’d make it to being fully seated on his cock without passing out from the pleasure.

He eventually got you about halfway impaled on his cock when he seemed to hit a barrier, and you immediately winced at the uncomfortable feeling. Paz once again stopped immediately, his hands tightening slightly around your waist. You felt a keen sense of disappointment, and you suddenly felt the slight urge to cry. You’d known you weren’t going to be able to take all of him, and he was going to be so disappointed-

“I wanna try something,” he suddenly said, his tone not disappointed like you’d expected, but contemplative. “Trust me?”

You blinked, unsure as to where that was coming from, but nodded nonetheless. You probably should’ve been a bit more cautious with answering, because Paz suddenly slid his hands down from where they’d been resting on your waist to wrap his fingers around the backs of your thighs, and lifted.

A squeal of shock escaped your mouth and your hands flailed as you were suddenly supported only by his grip on your thighs and half of his cock in your cunt. He pulled your thighs apart, so your legs were no longer between his own, but dangling on the outsides of his own thighs. Pulling your legs apart like this surprisingly eased the pressure in your cunt, and he slowly began to lower you more, and your pussy greedily sucked him in.

He was completely supporting your weight with just his hands and forearms, and your brain could not comprehend the strength he must be using to hold you like this. But you couldn’t deny, it was far easier for you to take him in this position, and before you’d quite processed that, the backs of your thighs were resting on the tops of his, and his cock was completely buried in your pussy.

You sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back so your upper body was supported by his chest and you could rest your head against his shoulder. Paz stroked his hands up and down your thighs, humming appreciatively. Your own legs were trembling from the strain and effort it had taken for you to take him.

For a few moments, the two of you just sat there, adjusting to the sensations. You were honestly shocked that you’d managed to take all of him, and you felt a not insignificant amount of pride. Still, it was overwhelming to be that full, and you couldn’t help but brush your hand over your abdomen, feeling like he was in your stomach he was that deep inside you.

Paz chuckled, the vibrations jolting you slightly and shifting his cock slightly inside you, making you whimper quietly. One of his hands came up to cover yours, the size of his hand dwarfing your own.

“Can you feel me here, bunny?” At your nod, Paz pressed down slightly, and you gasped as the change in pressure made sparks of pleasure light up your nerves. “Yeah, you can. How does it feel?”

It took you a few tries to reply, your throat dry and your tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-I feel s-s-so full.” There was truly no other way to describe it, the sensation so unfamiliar but also one you were quickly coming to love.

“Hmm, I bet,” he responded, sounding far too smug and full of himself. He slowly spread his thighs, forcing your own legs further open.

With the way your legs were hooked over his thighs, and the way you were impaled on his cock, you had no choice but to let him move your body the way he wanted to. You felt your cheeks warm at how exposed you were like this, naked and spread open on his lap, even in the emptiness of your shared apartment. You tried to squirm a bit to get more comfortable, and he shifted underneath you, tilting his hips up further into yours somehow, but also easing some of the strain in your lower back as he did so.

The fullness inside of you had you clenching and unclenching, your muscles unused to this position and trying in vain to adjust. Paz didn’t seem to react, although he did wrap his arm more fully around your waist and brough his other hand up to stroke at where the two of you were joined together. Your eyes rolled back in your head as his fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing at it gently.

“P-P-Paz,” you stuttered, voice shaking violently. “P-Paz, s-so much, t-t-too m-mph!”

He’d jerked his hips slightly, just enough to barely count as pulling out before he settled back deep inside you, cutting your protests off with ease. He sped up his fingers, and you thought he might be enjoying the way you trembled uncontrollably on his lap.

“Jus’ need you to come one more time for me, bunny,” he slurred, voice low and thick in your ear. “It’ll help you take me a bit easier, don’t worry. Just gimme one more, okay? I promise it’ll help, it’ll feel so good bunny. You trust me, don’cha?”

You nodded shakily, turning your head to press your sweaty forehead against the side of Paz’s neck. “O-O-Okay, Paz.”

He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, and his fingers sped up again. You’d been on the edge since he began to fuck you onto his cock, and you honestly didn’t need much more stimulation before you were coming again with a low moan and weak twitches of your hips.

Paz hummed appreciatively, his fingers sliding through the mess you’d made between your legs and around his cock. You were tingling with overstimulation, feeling flushed and sweaty and you probably looked a mess, but it was only Paz here to judge you, and you got the feeling he didn’t mind, especially when he was directly responsible for your wrecked state.

“You did such a good job, bunny.” You preened at the words, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “Such a good girl for me, giving me another. You feel so good coming around me like that.” He paused, the silence heavy, and you abruptly felt very much like prey, like the nickname Paz had bestowed upon you implied. You didn’t have the time to contemplate it before he continued.

“I lied, bunny. I’m sorry, but you just felt so good.” His fingers trailed back up to your throbbing clit. “I wanna feel that again. Wanna feel your lil’ pussy trembling around my cock. I wanna feel you gush around me.”

You mouth fell open, and your hands tried to reach down to pull him away but he was quicker, the arm that had been around your waist coming up to grip your wrists in one huge hand, bringing them up so your restricted hands were pressed into your sternum. He tutted softly, spreading his legs just a little further and restricting your movement just that little bit more.

“We agreed on the rule, bunny. You let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. Isn’t that right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing to whisper in your ear, tormenting you.

“And I wanna feel this pretty lil’ pussy absolutely strangle my cock again. I wanna feel you come and come and come until you can’t anymore. And then I wanna fill you up, wanna fill you up so full you’ll feel me dripping down your thighs for weeks. I wanna see you on campus and know you can still feel me in your fucking guts. I want you to sit with your friends and all you can think about is how I feel inside you right now. Any time a guy even fucking looks at you I want you to remember how this feels. I want you to remember how hard you came with my cock in your lil’ cunt.”

He stopped for a moment, breathing harshly in your ear as he quickly worked you towards another orgasm, and you almost couldn’t hear his next words over the uncontrollable whimpers and moans that escaped your throat as he abused your poor cunt.

“You’ll never be able to fuck anyone else and not think of me, bunny. I’m gonna fucking wreck you.”

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rosesocietyy · 1 year

Text

Brilliant people have said everything that needs to be said about this much much better and I don't got anything substantial to add but I just have to get this off my chest cause y'all I'm still in disbelief

like this is a grown ass person btw oh I simply have to laugh😭

this perfectly exemplifies literally everything cringe af and wrong with these "assigned welcomers". this is just my scapegoat but there are way worse I've seen

First of all, get a job. how, at your fossil age, do you have time to spend all day scrolling through every single iwtv related post and arguing with people who say anything even slightly damning about lestat (which mind you, is literally just objective facts about things he did). I'll dm you a McDonald's application hell I'll even put in a referral for you out of the goodness of my heart.

Second, Lestat is not a real person. he's fake, a made up character, the figment of someone's imagine, non-existent, people hating him will not affect your life in anyway shape or form. He didn't assign you as his PR agent I promise you'll live. "They'll never accept him" ok and?!?

Question, and I'm genuinely asking, is this their first time in a fandom? why is someone having a different opinion about a character they love enough to send them into hysterics like?? 13 year olds on anime twitter have a better grasp on reality that y'all do get a grip!

And like the above posts have talked extensively about, I most definitely noticed whose posts a specific bunch of them love to go under to share their dog shit "explanation" that nobody asked for. When a black person sees Louis being brutalized by his white lover what do you expect their reaction to be? oaur wow this white french slut is so pussy cunt slay period queen? "but louis is flawed too" do you hear yourself? do you listen to yourself when you speak? can you activate the barest hint of brain activity to understand why we would react differently to what we're watching than you would and that knowledge of the source material has nothing to do with it? Just because you read those shitty books and posses no empathy for black people in media doesn't mean you gain some higher understanding of "gothic romance ".

"No but the thing is you don't understand this is a gothic romance and they're supposed to be monsters and lestat has suffered saur much and he's also the real main character so you must love him" so now how exactly does that negate their point about him being an abuser? quickly! sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up when black people are sharing their thoughts on the show cause who the fuck are you fr and what convinced you that you have the right to argue with them about THEIR experiences. that tweet that said white people act like God left them in charge, yeah.

Funny enough, half the people that are so gung ho about him now didn't even fw him at all when they only read the first book. wow it's almost like you were allowed to sort out your feelings about him on your own without insects disguised as people in your mentions calling you slow for not licking his feet.

I despise so much in this fandom. From the bottom of my heart I really truly do. I don't know what I was expecting, I guess more common sense and maturity because the average age in the fandom is quite high compared to other fandoms I've been in but nah, just mfs screaming and crying bc ppl don't jump up and down and scream yipee! everytime their white fav commits abhorrent, disgusting crimes.

I was so caught up in the euphoria of an anne rice property finally being given to skilled creators who'll pick it apart and say something poignant with it that for a moment, I forgot I lived in a world where majority of its audience would sadly be the anne rice crowd.

#gag is the first time watchers don't even hate lestat as character #they all think he's brilliantly written #but because they're not calling him mother and liking edits of him to club music #those roaches have decided to take personal offense #interview with the vampire #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #amc iwtv

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augustrambles · 1 year

Note

Could you do a platonic main four and male reader? Probably trying to convince you to join a scheme of theres when you’re hesitant to leave the house, even though you want to participate

a/n: ty 4 requesting!! woohoo male reader❗

male!reader x main four

warnings: underage drinking and use of drugs, smoking, he/him prns

currently, [name] was on videocall with his friends.

"i dont know about this, y'all know how bebe's parties are, you guys are probably going to end up wasted."

"c'mon [name], dont be a pussy like cartman is!"

"fuck you stupid jew!"

"mfm mphrhm hmprh mphr"

"well yeah, but what if i get caught?"

"[name], you are not going to get caught, fucks sake! we've done this more than once so stop being such a pussy, man up, and go with us, UNLESS you wanna be a loser."

"fuck you cartman, but fine ill go then"

"woohoo!"

"we can have a, quote on quote, sleepover at my place so your parents think you're at my house."

"yeah, that'll work"

"kay, talk to yall later."

the videocall ended and [name] placed his phone on the night desk. he was slightly worried about getting caught, but he decided to ignore the feeling.

"hey mom, i'm going to stay over at stan's house tonight, ok?" he said to his mother as she nodded. "alright hun! make sure to come back at nine tomorrow!" she yelled back as he let out a "mhm"

he left the house and began walking, scrolling on his phone. him and stan were sort of close, not neighbours, but on the same street, so it wasn't a long walk.

knock, the sound of one was heard. he waited for a few seconds until he was greeted by stanley. "hey man!" stan said, fistbumping [name]. "kyle's already here, kenny and cartman are on their way." he informed

"alright, that's fine." [name] said, he walked to kyle as they started a conversation, stan joining in aswell. it was around 8pm. "question, when's the party starting?" [name] asked

"i think at 9, cartman and kenny better hurry their asses." kyle replied, resulting laughs from the other two boys due to his remark. at that moment, a knock was heard. "i'll get it." stan reassured

he walked up and it was cartman and kenny, they came to the house together. "speak of the devil" kyle said as he and [name] walked up the door. the 5 boys now left stan's house walking to where the party was being held at, bebe's house

they made conversation, about diverse topics such as school drama, celebrities, and the small fight between cartman and kyle here and there. the usual, basically.

"hey, we're here" kenny said, pointing to the house who you could literally hear music blasting. it was quite obvious there was a party there. the boys went up the door, kyle knocking. it was opened by a half drunk bebe.

"hheeeyy.. weelccome! ccome inn." she said, obviously dozing off of whatever type of alcohol she was drinking. cartman and kyle went first, then kenny, then [name] and stan.

the party was absolutely wild, there was strong smells of alcohol, smoke and drugs. [name] went up to clyde and craig, seperating from the group. craig seemed to be drunk, but clyde was wasted. "dude!! you're here, hey!" clyde said, before being dragged away by some girls playing truth or dare.

[name] looked at craig. "i didnt know you drink" he said to him, craig shrugged. "i dont, im just drinking today for fun." he replied, taking a sip from his beer. "wheres tweek? didnt he come?" [name] asked.

"he did, but he got too shaky because of all the noise and left. i wanted to acompany him home, but then he said something along the lines 'no, i want you to have fun' so here i am."

"i dont think you were supposed to take that literally, but alright"

[name] then walked away from craig, going to his previous group of friends. stan and kenny were both drinking, not drunk, since they barely had a few sips, but i dont think it'll stay like that until the end of the night. cartman was eating chips, which nobody else was eating. kyle was just there, not drinking or eating, just there, probably finding something to do.

"hey dude, you want a sip?" stan offered, [name] seemed to be hesitant at first but nodded. stan gave him a can of beer, it tasted.. good? surprisingly.

the night passed and not much changed.

except that [name] was fucking drunk as hell.

"[name], a-are you sure you dont want water?" butters asked, clearly being concerned for the man's health being. "naaahh, im okayy, thfank you" he said, body almost falling over. he was walking towards kyle and stan, wanting to join the karaoke, but then he bumped into a familiar girl,

wendy testaburger.

they bumped into eachother, "ew. you fucking smell like a skunk" she said as the room went quiet for the first time that night. "well fuck you, you smell like a wet dog at gym every day but you dont see me saying shit. keep it to yourself" [name] responded, clearly offended.

"pfft- i know YOU arent talking. you smell like you pissed yourself since first grade" she remarked, getting a few ooh's by the crowd. "that may be the case, but at least people like me. wasnt your ex so tired of you he used chat gpt to talk to you? lmaoo"

stan looked to the wall, trying to stuff in his laugh as kyle was giggling for everyone to hear, with the others. "BAHAHAHHAHA" was cartman's loud ass laugh, of course, there was also laughs across the room.

"oh fuck you" she said, heading towards him. she had a grin on her face. "cmon wendy, you know im joking" he said, laughing. "yea yea, go ahead drink some more you whore" she rolled her eyes in a sarcastic way as [name] followed her.

they always had very offensive fights like the one that just happened right now, but they always giggled or laughed it off. seems like a toxic relationship, but hey, this is south park, what ISNT toxic..

stan walked to [name] who had just left wendy with bebe, "dude you're gonna get in trouble if you continue fighting like that with wendy" he said, the two boys walking over to their group of friends. "hey, calm down, me and wendy are super close, doubt she would beat me up like she did to someone in here.. cough cough cartman cough." [name] said, receiving a giggle from kenny, stan and kyle and a deathstare by cartman. "shut up (insert insult)"

"alright man, just warnin you." stan said, taking another sip of the drink in his hand. [name] went to serve himself another cup of his drink, leaving the others alone.

"hey kyle, what hour is it?" kenny looked at kyle, who was on his phone. kyle was mostly on his phone at that party, mostly there because of his friends. "its 11:43" he said, replying to kenny. kenny simply nodded, "its early" he said.

stan called kenny, "hey dude, isnt that one of the girls you slept with??" he pointed to a white girl with pink highlights. "oh shit, it is, imma be right back yall" he said, going to the girl without looking back. "hes defintely not gonna be right back.." cartman rolled his eyes, continuing to eat.

"where the hell did [name] go" kyle asked and stan responding with "he went to get a drink, pretty sure" he looked into the kitchen, not seeing anyone there. "yeah, but he isnt at the bar or the kitchen" kyle noted

"maybe if we're lucky he got kidnapped" "oh shut up fatass" kyle punched cartman on the arm. "hey! dont tell me to shut up you stupid jew" he 'hmph'-ed at the jew

"ehh, hes probably coming back soon anyway" stan said, deciding not to worry about it. "yo kyle, you wanna go karaoke again? theyre making a competition now" stan asked kyle and he nodded, putting his phone in his pocket. "hope you lose" cartman said.

. . .

"its 3:40, we should probably get going now" kyle said, as the party was already more empty than before and less chaotic, plus [name] had arrived, and they were all now waiting for kenny. "yeah, but i am NOT carrying nobody, ok?" cartman said, giving an side eye to a drunken passed out stan next to him.

"not like your fatass could anyway" kyle rolled his eyes. "oh shut the fuck up" cartman said. at that moment, kenny had arrived, zipping back his parka, and covering his head. "dude, i love girls"

kenny said, an insipirational moment. "wow, i wouldve never guessed." [name] said, rolling his eyes. "but we should for real get going now, i'll carry stan." he said. "no, its fine, ill carry him" kyle said, already picking the passed out boy already. [name] shrugged with a 'if-you-say-so' look on his face

they all started to walk back to stan's house, kenny mentioning how good that sex was, [name] talking about how they met someone there who gave them a bit of smoke, cartman complimenting the food and karaoke.

"dude, you cant say the n word in karaoke.." [name] said, looking at cartman seriously. "oh cmon, it was a song, i didnt mean it in that way."

"cartman, you were singing call me maybe."

. . . ( that was a reference btw )

stan was lying in his bed, still passed out, as the other boys were currently lying in their sleeping bed. "goodnight yall" [name] said as the others whispered goodnight aswell.

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osarina · 6 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 COMING DOWN

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: something is up. you know it. dazai is being far too romantic and you're absolutely not buying the excuses he keeps giving you. it's whatever, you think, you'll enjoy the fancy dinner and fancier hotel, even with the imminent threat of the looming bomb about to drop. {wordcount: 13.4k; fem!reader, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: here is part 4!!! i can't believe we're already so close to the end of this one, i'm so excited for side b you guys have no idea, i'm almost done writing part 4 of side b and then part 5 is going to be a beast in itself, PUN INTENDED. i'm going to be posting a poll a bit later on that i'll need your guys' opinion on concerning part 4 of side b, so please keep an eye out for that!

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: i was conflicted as to how to go about this because as per tags on masterlist, there was always going to be smut in this series. i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 13.4k chapter just because there's like 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FOURTH scene. there is very little, if any, plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! i'll summarize the little plot development in the smut at the end of the chapter for you guys.

SMUT WARNINGS: mostly vanilla-ish, fingering, dazai has a dirtyyy mouth, a bit of edging, mentions of f!masturbation, pussy drunk!dazai - he's a bit pathetic HAHAH, unprotected sex. i think that's all, if i'm missing anything please let me know!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

You’re a bit alarmed when you wake up and realize that Dazai is nowhere to be found. Usually, you wake up to the warmth of his arm draped over your body, his tall and lithe form curled around you and his face buried in your hair. It’s a process trying to get out of bed, because even in his sleep he clings to you tighter whenever you try to free yourself, and he always lets out muffled noises of complaint and displeasure at the slightest disruption to his sleep.

Normally, the man wakes up hours after you—and even then, you still have to drag him out of bed so he’s not abysmally late to work—so this is… strange to say the least. He’s gotten better the past few weeks, sometimes he wakes up early to join you at the beach to watch the sunrise and usually it’s a bit easier to get him out of bed even when he wants to sleep in, but he never wakes up before you unless he just doesn’t sleep, but you know that he slept last night because he fell asleep while you were finishing up some emails to prospective employers for your summer job.

You’re suspicious when you slip out of bed and stretch, curious to figure out what he’s doing—you wonder if he had to get up early to get to the Agency for a mission, but you’re pretty sure Dazai would rather face a raging Kunikida and death by fire than wake up before dawn for work. Still dressed in your night clothes, you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main room of your apartment.

He’s standing there in your kitchen, brows furrowed and already dressed in black slacks and a button up and tie—not his typical attire, you can’t help but note, and your suspicion grows. He looks handsome though, and you would spend a few moments just admiring him but you don’t like the way he’s staring at your stove so you decide to speak up before he can do something destructive.

“Dazai,” you call his name, still half-asleep, watching as his eyes shoot open as he turns to face you. “What’re you doing up so early?”

Dazai doesn’t even respond. Instead, he snatches something from the counter and makes his way over to you—you draw back a bit, confused and increasingly more alarmed but too out of it to effectively dodge his rapid approach, and you part your lips to ask him what the hell he’s doing and why he’s acting so weird but he only takes the opportunity to shove an unwrapped protein bar into your mouth. You choke a bit in surprise, trying to chew on the bar, but you’re reeling as he presses his hands to your back and pushes you back into the bedroom.

You’re barely registering what’s happening as you finally take a bite of the protein bar and remove it from your mouth—watching as he strips you of your pajama top and shorts in abject horror. You want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing but you’re still trying to chew through the thick bar, almost gagging on it.

You watch, standing there in your panties, braless and topless—you want to complain because you’re cold but you’re more occupied with watching Dazai Osamu, a man clearly on some sort of mission as he snatches the dress hanging on your closet door. You’re certain that you hadn’t left it there, in fact you don’t even remember picking it up from the dry-cleaners, so he must’ve picked it up on his way home from work yesterday and you just didn’t notice when you were focused on finishing up your emails.

“Up,” he says, motioning for you to raise your arms and you just stare at him in disbelief, absently raising your arms.

Without hesitation, he slides the dress over your body, adjusting it so that it’s laying against you nicely—and then he shifts to stand behind you, zipping it up. Usually, he would linger for a bit, press a few kisses to the crook of your neck and wrap his arms around your waist, but this time he zips it up and darts back off to your closet, where he’s evidently also laid out a pair of heels for you.

He snatches them up and kneels in front of you, grabbing your ankle to lift your leg and slip your heel on—he fastens the buckle, and this time he does linger a bit, dipping his head down to press a chaste kiss against your ankle before shuffling over a bit to do the same for your other foot.

“Dazai, what is going on?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief and confusion as you stare at him, taking another bite of the protein bar he’d given to you.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” he says, as if that isn’t obvious enough.

“You’re dressing me.”

“You’re taking too long.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” you protest, scowling down at Dazai, but he only looks up at you.

He props his chin on your abdomen as he looks up at you, a soft expression on his face.

“Sweet bella,” he sighs dreamily, “not even the millions of stars in the sky can compare to how brilliantly you shine. The most beautiful being I’ve ever had the fortune of laying my eyes upon. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You roll your eyes—no matter how often Dazai gets all poetic and theatrical, it never fails to fluster you, but you know he’s only trying to dodge your interrogation this time. You tug a lock of his hair and he hums softly, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning into your touch.

“I need to do my hair and makeup,” you tell him. “Where are we even going?”

Dazai leaps to his feet instantly. “Nope!” he says loudly, and your expression twists in irritation, watching as he bounds over to your desk, grabbing… your make-up bag? “Do your makeup and hair when I get to the office, I have to stop there for a few minutes before we leave. I put everything together for you.”

“Where are we going?” you repeat as you try to reach for your makeup bag but Dazai holds it above his head so that you can’t get to it. You squint and you have half a mind to jump up on him to try to pull his arm down but from the way his eyes are glittering, you have a feeling that he wants and expects exactly that.

So instead, you let out a pointed sigh and turn your head away. Dazai pouts, but you figure either way it was a losing decision for you because his pout disappears in an instant as he grabs your hand and drags you out of the bedroom.

You’re all but stumbling after him, trying to keep up with him in the dark heels he’d dressed you in, and Dazai is merciless, not slowing down for even a second until he skids to a stop at your door, grabbing the keys to your car that you left hanging next to your jacket.

He turns to you, giving you an expression that’s more fitting of a wet dog than a human being, not wanting to give up the keys. You close your eyes and sigh.

“Answer my question,” you finally say.

“I can’t,” Dazai complains, “it’s a surprise.”

“Dazai,” you warn, voice low.

“It’s a surprise,” Dazai repeats instead, frowning slightly as he looks down at you, and you can see the earnestness in his eyes as he looks down at you, lacing your fingers together as he squeezes your hand gently, as if begging you to not make him ruin it.

Again, you sigh.

“Do not get into another accident, Dazai.”

His face lights up.

You regret everything.

“Dazai, I thought you were-”

“Shhhhhh!”

You’re a bit amused as Yosano Akiko holds up her hands in mock surrender from where she’s lounging at one of the booths in the cafe beneath the Agency. Dazai looks thoroughly distressed, waving his own hands and panicking at Yosano almost giving up his top secret plans.

“I’ll be back down in a few minutes,” he says to you before turning to squint at Yosano. “Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” Yosano promises, holding her hand to chest as if to convey her honor.

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit more, as if he doesn’t trust her, but then he glances at the clock and flees up the steps to the Agency without another word.

As soon as you hear the door slam upstairs, signaling that Dazai entered the Agency, you make your way over to where the other woman is sitting, propping up your phone against the wall to use as a mirror before unzipping your makeup bag. Impressively, Dazai managed to make sure he got all of your everyday makeup and even the ones you keep to the side for special occasions, you hum a bit in appreciation before getting started.

“Can you give me a hint?” you ask, eyes flickering up to Yosano, who’s studying you with a fond expression as you start shifting through your makeup bag, looking for a particular concealer.

Yosano’s lips curve up into a smile. “He’s actually been working the past two weeks to make sure Kunikida can’t complain about him taking time off for this—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited for something.”

Your chest feels a bit warm, a smile itching at the corner of your lips as you pause from where you’re applying your makeup. “Yeah?” you ask, eyes lingering on her for a bit longer before you go back to looking back down at your phone to continue doing your makeup.

Yosano lets out a quiet noise of agreement. “Honestly,” she says quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy in general as he’s been the past two months, so thank you. I’m glad he has you.”

You falter a bit, glancing up at Yosano as you recall Atsushi’s words from back when Dazai got shot: “I’m really glad that Dazai-san has you. He’s been a lot happier the past few weeks.”

“You think so?” you ask softly, twirling your mascara wand in hand as you look down at the table.

You wonder what exactly Dazai was like if now two of his coworkers are mentioning how much better he’s been since meeting you. You have your own suspicions, just from knowing how the two of you met (twice) on top of his flippant attitude regarding suicide, but that’s all you have: suspicions.

“Know so,” Yosano corrects absently, taking a sip of her coffee mug—although you can’t help but notice that it doesn’t look like coffee in there. She sighs, tilting her head back against the booth. “He’s good. He doesn’t believe it himself—probably never will—but he is. He deserves this… I doubt he’ll ever believe that either though. Be good to him.”

“You guys are all really close, aren’t you?” you note, half to yourself.

“Like family,” Yosano confirms with a grin and then pauses before saying, “... we are family.”

You smile a bit wistfully. “I’m almost jealous,” you admit, “but it makes me happy to hear that he has you guys. Sometimes he just seems so…”

Lonely, you finish quietly.

On nights where he can’t sleep and you happen to wake up, you sometimes find him staring out the window just like you did that first night you met. He always looks lost and alone—he tries to hide it when he notices that you’re up too, masking it with a smile that never reaches his eyes. You think his mind haunts him a lot more than he lets on—well, you know it does, you remember how you met him and you remember his chilling, offhand comments, but you think it haunts him even more than that, to the point that no matter how many people care for him, it’ll never allow him to see it.

“Yeah,” Yosano agrees quietly, you don’t have to finish what you’re trying to say for her to know what you’re getting at. She lightens up after a moment though. “Make him bring you around more, you’ll be part of our ragtag little family in no time.”

You smile brightly. “I think Dazai would have a heart attack—did you see him at the event last month?”

Yosano’s smile is sharp and dangerous. “That’s the point.”

Laughing loudly, you nearly mess up your mascara, and as you open your lips to respond, you pause when you catch sight of a familiar, suspicious face poking around the corner of the doorframe leading up to the Agency. As soon as you catch sight of him, he tries to disappear and pretend that he isn’t there.

Your eyes narrow. “I saw you, Dazai,” you say loudly and Yosano whirls around to look over the booth just as Dazai reluctantly steps out into view.

“Dazai, you damn creep, were you eavesdropping?” Yosano accuses, throwing a stray teaspoon in his direction.

“Yosano-sensei,” Dazai complains, “can you blame me? I see my two favorite women laughing, of course I’m going to be curious.”

You snort as you finish up with applying your lipgloss—the strawberry one that Dazai loves so much that you’ve caught him trying lick the wand when you’re not looking. Rising to your feet, you put your makeup bag back together before looking back over at Dazai, who finally made his way over to the table.

There’s a soft, adoring look in his eyes as he looks down at you; you think that it’s a bit unwarranted because you’re pretty sure your makeup must look terrible from how quickly and half-assed you'd done it, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think Dazai was looking at someone glammed up for the red carpet.

It almost makes you feel a bit flustered.

“You look beautiful,” he says quietly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I haven’t even had a chance to brush my hair yet,” you counter, looking up at him through your lashes with a half-smile.

“And you’re beautiful still,” he teases softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a chaste, deceptively innocent kiss.

“God, you two are gross, get a room,” Yosano grumbles, throwing a packet of sugar at the side of Dazai’s head.

Dazai tosses Yosano a wink. “Oh, we will,” he leers and Yosano dramatically gags.

You smile lightly, but then your mind starts to drift because you’ve been with Dazai for two months now and the two of you have hardly gotten further than heavy petting and kissing. Not for a lack of trying, and it’s kind of become a borderline taboo subject between the two of you, because he always stops it before it can get too far. You don’t know why, and you’re afraid to ask because you’re beginning to get anxious that there’s something wrong with you because why else would he constantly pull away whenever things start to heat up between the two of you? You know damn well the man isn’t a saint from what you’ve heard from his coworkers and how grateful they were that you reigned in his “womanizing” tendencies, so why are you different? It’s been two months, why won’t he touch you?

Your thoughts start to spiral, as they always do when you think too hard on the topic. You can feel him give you a concerned look but you only turn to Yosano, bidding her goodbye as Dazai leads you out of the cafe and the woman raises her arm in a lazy wave in response. Once you guys are out the door, you turn to Dazai before he can interrogate you on what’s wrong.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, nudging your shoulder into Dazai’s side as the two of you make your way back to your car. Dazai slings an arm around you, pulling you into his side and dipping his head down to kiss the top of your head.

You feel his lips curl up into a dangerous smile against your hair. “The train station.”

You turn your head to look up at him as soon as the words register, eyes a bit wide. “The train station? Where are we taking a train to?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, not fully answering your question, eyes glimmering as his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer into him. “We’re spending a night away from here.”

“I didn’t pack anything,” you say, a bit panicked. “Daz-”

“I packed a change of clothes and pajamas,” Dazai grins. “Relax, I’ve got you, bella. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” you scoff immediately, noting the way his grip around you falters a bit as soon as the words leave your mouth. “But I also know you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dazai laments. “You hate me.”

You roll your eyes. “I definitely don’t hate you, Dazai,” you murmur, resting the side of your head against his bicep for a moment—three words threaten to burst from your lips, you swallow them.

As if Dazai can sense the sudden change in mood, he leans down to kiss the top of your head again—this time softer, and he lingers longer. As he does so, he reaches to swing open the passenger door to your car.

“Shall we?”

Kyoto.

He brought you to Kyoto. You’ve never actually been despite having wanted to visit for years, too busy with college and then preparing for graduate school. Dazai has spent the entire day bringing you from place to place, letting you play the gawking tourist as he drags you everywhere from the botanical garden to the shrines and temples places throughout the city. He’s spent the entire day embarrassing you, one way or another, by announcing in public that his ‘darling wife is pregnant!’ so that you’re flooded with older women cooing over you and making loud and poetic proclamations of love and distress in Nishiki Market, pretending to be a scorned lover bemoaning the cruelty of the woman he loves.

You can’t even find it in yourself to be angry about it, because you remember Yosano’s words about how excited he’s been and you can see the way his eyes shine brightly whenever he sees the dread rise to your face as soon as you realize he’s about to do something shameful.

Now, the two of you are sitting in a rooftop restaurant of a luxury resort that you know damn well neither of you can afford, and you’re not even sure how Dazai had managed to book a reservation at it—you’re not even sure if he had booked a reservation at it. The whole situation is honestly a bit weird. The hostess seemed to have recognized Dazai’s name as soon as he gave it to her, rushing to seat him at the best table in the restaurant, and once you’d been seated, the owner had come over to greet Dazai.

You wonder if Dazai secretly comes from old money, generational wealth—you think if he does, you might kill him, because you can’t even count the number of times you’ve had to spot the asshole for coffees and snacks. If he was sitting on piles of money the whole time? You swear that you’ll rip into him.

You tried to ask him about it already, but he waved off the question with a non-answer and a charming smile that doesn't quite work on you anymore. When you tried to press, you got the same dismissal, so with much restraint you finally let it rest so you could enjoy your dinner.

“Are you going to tell me what the occasion is now?” you finally ask, taking a sip of the after-dinner martini you’d ordered as you watch Dazai carefully.

“We’re celebrating,” Dazai grins, reaching across the table to take your hand into his; he brings yours to his lips, kissing your knuckles before laying both of your hands over the table.

“Celebrating what, exactly?” you tease, tilting your head to the side as your fingers lace through his—he’s gotten a lot more touchy the past few days, you’ve noticed

“You finished your finals, obviously,” Dazai says, as if it were obvious, “I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out yourself.”

Your fingers tighten around his hand as you let out a puff of laughter. “Really?” you ask a bit doubtfully. “All of this because I finished finals?”

“My sweet belladonna thinks I’m a liar,” Dazai complains, head falling back dramatically. “You’ve been so stressed the past few weeks, I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Although you can’t help but notice that his fingers tense against yours, as if he’s not telling the full truth, you decide to leave it and press later, instead smiling softly and squeezing his hand.

“Oh yeah? You could’ve just brought me out to dinner back home, spend the night at some cheap hotel that we can actually afford,” you snort, looking around again at the extravagant rooftop restaurant the two of you are eating at. With the dim, romantic lighting and luxurious furnishing, you think this might be the fanciest place you’ve ever been. “... How are we going to afford this, Dazai?”

“When are you going to start calling me Osamu?” Dazai pouts as if to try to avoid the question.

You ignore the way warmth bubbles at your chest, instead correcting, “How are we going to afford this, Osamu?”

His name tastes frighteningly familiar on your tongue—as if you’ve said it a million times before—and you can see from the way that his eyelashes flutter it seems to have affected him just as much as you.

“You won’t tell me what you and Yosano were laughing about, so obviously I’m not gonna tell you about this,” Dazai teases, thumb circling the back of your hand. You roll your eyes, so he continues with, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, that’s for me to handle”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you drawl with a side smile. “Unless you’ve been hiding some secret wealth from me—which if you have, we’re going to have serious problems, I’ve paid for you too many times for that—we’re going to be washing dishes at this place for the rest of our lives.”

“You have no faith.” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out even further. “You said you trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you say and you can see from the way he squints that he knows there’s about to be a ‘but’, “but-”

“Dazai-sama.” The waiter that has been diligently tending to the two of you bows deeply to Dazai—you give Dazai a pointed look, as if saying, see!, but he only winks at you. “Is there anything else that you and your fiancée need? Or shall I get the two of you the bill?”

Fiancée, you think to yourself a bit surprised, shooting Dazai another sharp look, noting how his cheeks flushed a bit after hearing how the waiter addressed you.

“Charge it onto the usual card,” Dazai tells the waiter, who nods and bows again before rushing off.

You stare at Dazai as soon as the man leaves. “Dazai Osamu, who are you?” you ask, a bit jokingly, a bit not jokingly because he really has thrown you for a complete 180 with this whole extravagant date.

His smile falters, as if you asked a question that he doesn’t want to answer, but you think he was stupid to bring you on this date if he didn’t want you asking questions about it. You wish that you had some idea of what the answer might be but you don’t, and it worries you a bit, because there’s clearly something he’s hiding from you and he’s anxious about how you’re going to take it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says quietly, holding his arm out to you.

You sigh a bit as you rise to your feet after finishing your drink, looping your arm into his. He tugs you a bit closer, and you watch, hawk-eyed, as the waiters of the restaurant nod their head in respect to Dazai and the owner himself bids him a brief goodbye and a ‘it was good seeing you again, Dazai-sama’ before the two of you reach the elevator leading back down into the hotel.

As soon as you’re within the closed doors, Dazai turns to you, bringing his hand up to brush his knuckles against your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, looking up at him, eyes wide and a bit imploring, asking him to explain without verbally voicing the words.

He sighs. “I came here a lot for my previous job, before I joined the Agency,” he explains quietly. “We brought… associates here a lot for business.”

“You’re going to charge our date and stay here on your old boss’s card,” you ask, a bit horrified at the prospect, not even thinking to ask what his previous job might be in your panic. “Daz-Osamu, are you crazy?”

“Trust me,” Dazai grins as he says the two words you’ve been hearing all night from him. “He won’t do anything about it.”

The words sound a bit ominous, you don’t really know how to take them, so instead you shake your head and rest the side of your head against his bicep as you wait for the elevator to open up on your floor—a penthouse suite, naturally, one that you’re sure must cost at least one to two hundred thousand yen a night.

After a few moments, you ask quietly, “What was your previous job?”

Dazai stiffens beneath your touch. You glance up, watching as his face closes off and his throat spasms beneath the bandages covering it. You can feel his fingers dig a bit deeper into your hip from where his hand had been idly resting against you.

He doesn’t want to tell you, you realize—you don’t know why he doesn’t want to tell you, you know deep down that it must be something that he’s ashamed of, or it’s something he thinks would make you think differently of him. A part of you wants to assure him that nothing would change how you care for him, but Yosano’s words still ring through your head: “he doesn’t believe it himself—probably never will.”

So instead, you hook your arms around his waist loosely, leaning up on your tiptoes to press your lips underneath his jaw.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, resting your head on his chest and letting your eyes slide shut. “You don’t have to tell me now, I hope one day you feel ready to share it with me.”

You hear Dazai let out a breath from above you. “I don’t understand why you’re so patient with me,” he murmurs, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on the top of your head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips. “Because I care about you, Osamu. A lot. Nothing you tell me would ever change that.”

“... That’s not true,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

“It is.” You only tighten your arms around him and then continue with, “Are you going to click our floor or are we just going to sit in the elevator all night?”

Dazai’s face flushes. “Click our floor,” he says sheepishly

You laugh, Dazai leans over you to click the button before draping himself over you. You feel warm again, but there’s still a cold hole still spreading through your chest: even with the implication of his previous job, and the realization that it might just be something unsavory enough for him to fear you changing how you see him, you just can’t seem to brush away the feeling that there’s something else he’s hiding from you.

“I lied before.”

The admission comes bluntly and quietly from Dazai, who’s laying next to you on the massive king-sized bed of the nicest suite in the hotel—you think you’ve never stayed in a more comfortable bed, all the two of you have been doing for the past few hours is lounging around watching shitty movies and sharing kisses.

You’re still resting your head on his shoulder, eyes idly tracing the television screen where a girl is crying over a boy she’d just met the other day before you turn your gaze up to him.

“About what?” you ask.

He’s not looking at you, he’s staring up at the ceiling instead with a conflicted expression; he opens his mouth to say something but nothing spills from his lips. Finally, he sighs, “I didn’t do this just to celebrate you finishing finals.”

Your heart drops a bit, inhaling sharply. You don’t look up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist and settling against his chest, bracing yourself for whatever he’s going to say. “I figured,” you say, your throat feeling a bit tight. “It was a bit… too grand of a gesture to just be for celebrating finishing finals.”

Neither of you speak for a moment, and you wait for him to explain, eyes sliding shut as you listen to the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest to ground your creeping anxiety.

“I’m going to have to leave for a while, I think,” Dazai says softly. “Things are… going to get bad. I don’t know how it’s going to go down yet, I don’t know when I’ll be back—I don’t know if-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, cutting himself off before the words can fall from his lips. He doesn’t have to, you know exactly what he was going to say—he doesn’t even know if he’ll be back.

Your throat feels tight as you stare ahead at the wall. “That’s okay,” you say, your voice sounds a bit stronger than you actually feel. “I can wait.”

From the corner of your eye, you see his head snap in your direction and you don’t have to look at him to know that he probably has that twisted, conflicted expression on his face. He starts to say, “But I don’t know if-”

“I know,” you interrupt him because you don’t want to hear him say it out loud. “I know. I can wait. I’ll wait for you.”

Dazai doesn’t say anything in response, you don’t know what’s running through his head—you’re not sure if you want to know, or you suppose that’s not really true. You’d kill to understand what exactly goes on in Dazai’s head, you want to understand him better, you want him to rely on you like you do him. You want him; you want him for all that he is, no more masks and no more hiding. Just him.

You’re not given the chance to linger in your thoughts. Dazai moves closer to you, lifting one hand to cup the back of your head and turn your face toward him; he doesn’t waste a second before pressing his lips to yours, they’re chapped and familiar, you’ve kissed him hundreds of times since that party but this one feels different. It feels desperate, as if he’s afraid to forget the taste of you or the feeling of your touch.

He shifts his body closer to yours, pushing you back gently until you’re laying flat on your bed with him hovering on top of you—his lips don’t move away from yours for even a second. It’s dizzying, honestly. He kisses you like he wants to consume you, like you’ll disappear at any given second; his tongue brushes against your bottom lip and your lips part instinctively for him.

His body slides on top of yours, narrow hips slotting between your thighs—there’s no space between the two of you, you can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, you can feel his fingers intertwining just a bit too tightly into your hair, causing a pleasant sting to spread through your scalp, you can feel his bulge pressing against your pelvis.

Oh, you think to yourself, sighing into his mouth as his tongue traces the inside of your lips, as if trying to create a map of your mouth. It’s soft and gentle, you think he might be tracing letters on your tongue but you’re so hazed out that you can’t concentrate enough to figure out what they are with the added feeling of the fingers of his free hand tracing up and down your side.

And then, as if he’s had enough of the slow pace, he deepens the kiss. You think there’s something distinctively filthy about the way that Dazai’s tongue drags against the roof of your mouth before he separates your mouths so he can trail wet kisses along your jaw, the gentle traces on your side becoming a much more firm grip on your hip as he hooks one of your legs around his waist to tentatively roll his hips against yours.

Your body aches at the feeling of his bulge nudging up against your core, the friction setting all of your nerves on fire. This isn’t the first time that the two of you have started to take the next step—kisses becoming just a bit too heavy, touches becoming just a bit too desperate—but every time he ends up withdrawing, and god, you think you might die if he does now too. His lips drag down your neck, he’s reckless with his teeth as he scrapes them against your skin, tongue tracing patterns down to your collarbone where he sucks at your skin hard, drawing a choked, breathy moan from you.

His fingers bite into your skin as his lips trail down lower—lower than they ever have before, down to plump flesh of your breast, to the low cut line of your dress—your lashes flutter and lips part and you want to beg him ‘please, don’t stop’ but you don’t think you’re capable of speaking right now, mind fogged with desire. He keeps the pressure on your cunt with slow and lazy rolls of his hips, each movement putting more and more friction on your clit and-

And he’s stopping??

Your breath catches when he suddenly rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, catching his own breath as his body stills and you can feel his arms tensing as he prepares to push himself off of you.

You don’t let him.

With the leg you still have hooked around his waist, you flip the two of you over. His pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, a surprised ‘oof’ escaping his lips. You think he’s beautiful. You really do. His lips are pink and swollen and wet with spit, his cheeks are flushed, hair an unruly mess haloed around his head; you lean down to press your lips against his, taking the lead yourself now, and you relish in the muffled groan he lets out into your mouth as you grind your hips down against his clothed cock.

It’s a short kiss for how sloppy and debauched it is, tongues sliding against each other’s and lips clashing messily, hips rocking in sync—hot, blood curdling, but you have questions that need to be answered before you continue. He chases your lips when you pull away, a distressed noise forming in the back of his throat.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me?” you finally ask the words that have been plaguing you for almost two whole months.

Dazai stares at you as if you’ve grown two heads, and you’d be embarrassed at asking the question if the past two months haven’t been weighing so heavily on your shoulders. He looks pointed down his body, to where his cock is hard, straining painfully against his black slacks, and then he looks back up at you as if to say, what are you talking about? But you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“Don’t give me that,” you snap, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders through his dress shirt, wrinkled now from your time lounging about and indulging in one another. “You know what I’m talking about. We’ve been together for two months and every time we’re about to take the next step, you stop it, you were about to now too, weren’t you?”

Dazai grimaces suddenly and that’s all of the confirmation you need. You pull back, a bit hurt, but before you can withdraw completely, his hand darts out to grab your bicep, stopping you.

“It’s not… you,” he finally says, voice a bit hoarse—you don’t know if it’s because of the way you’re caught in a position where you’re still half grinding down on his cock or if it’s because he doesn’t want to have this conversation, but you’re instantly rolling your eyes.

“Okay, if you’re going to hit me with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ we’re going to have problems, Osamu.”

The grin he gives you is wry, his eyes still half-lidded as lays back against the bed again, letting out a sigh. He lets go of your bicep, hand falling down to your thigh to rub absent circles with his thumb as he stares up at the ceiling.

“I…” he trails off, as if considering his words, and you’re patient because you can tell he’s trying to be open and honest with you, vulnerable in a way he rarely ever is. “I’ve slept around a lot, and I know that you’ve probably heard that from the rest of the Agency and even if you haven’t, we’ve ran into a few… uh… we’ve ran into a few ex-acquaintances of mine while out on dates. I’ve never actually had a relationship. I don’t really know what I’m doing, I just don’t want you to think I only wanted you for sex.”

Your eye twitches.

“Dazai Osamu,” you say with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to cup his cheeks with both of your hands. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you can never say no to. He leans his face into your hand as his lashes flutter, you stroke his cheekbones gently with your thumbs. “For someone so intelligent, you really are the stupidest man I’ve ever met.”

You don’t give him time to get offended by your words, leaning down to kiss him again. This kiss is slower, just as intimate but not quite as depraved—lips gliding against each other’s, tongues teasing in a slow dance. His hands rest carefully on your hips and yours stay cupping his cheeks, you kiss him until your lungs scream for air and even then, you kiss him longer, reluctant to separate from him.

When you finally do, you rest your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut as you share a thin sliver of air, dizzy from the feeling of breathing in one another’s air. Your thumb caresses his cheek, fingers intertwining with his dark locks, you press one more kiss to his lips, this one short and sweet, and then you say, “I want to have sex with you. Please fuck me, Osamu.”

He’ll deny it later, but the noise that slips from his lips is nothing short of a whimper as his grip on your hips tightens and he leans in to steal another kiss. He doesn’t move to switch your positions, seemingly content to stay beneath you, so you press him back down until he’s laying flat against the mattress, hands sliding down from his cheeks to rest against his chest as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, letting out a pleased hum against his lips when you feel one of his hands play with the hem of your dress, fingers dipping beneath the cloth, teasing. You kiss the corner of his mouth, and then down to his jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin and feeling him shiver.

“You’ll wait for me?” he asks suddenly, voice soft, biting back a groan as you roll your hips against his. He sounds hesitant, as if he doesn’t entirely believe you.

“Yes,” you tell him, lifting your head from his jaw to hover over his face again, fingers tracing his cheekbone, leaning down to press another chaste kiss against his lips. He tries to chase after your lips as you pull away, but you only give him a playful smile before leaning back again.

“Why?” Dazai asks hoarsely—he looks at you as if he’s desperate to know the answer, and the words linger dangle off of the edge of your tongue.

Because I love you.

You think you love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone else in the world—he makes you laugh when you can’t even bring yourself to smile, he makes you feel light when you swear you have the whole world weighing down on your shoulders, and he does it even though you know he struggles himself. And you want him to let you be there for him the same way that he always is for you, but he always closes off when you try.

Except now.

“Because you’re worth waiting for,” you say instead of those other three damning words.

“I’m not.” Dazai shakes his head, and it almost sounds like he’s trying to warn you, but you only cup his cheeks again and force him to still.

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t worth it,” you say, giving him another teasing smile before adding, “I decide that for myself, and you are.”

“I’m really not,” he stresses, “I-”

You don’t let him finish, instead leaning down to cut him off with another kiss—he barely kisses you back, but you don’t really care because you only meant to stop him from talking anyway.

“You are,” you murmur, your lips graze his jaw again and you can feel him shiver beneath you again.

His fingers tighten around your hips and he’s flipping you onto your back in an instant. Your vision spins, a gasp pulling from your lips, and he gives you no time to regain your bearings as he bunches your dress to your hips, lips finding yours as his fingers fumble to push your panties to the side before he slides his middle finger and ring finger deep inside you, without all of the practiced ease you expected from him, more akin to a nervous boy who’s terrified of making a mistake.

Your jaw goes slack, head pressing back against the pillow, back arching up. Dazai’s lips move to the next available part of your body when he loses your lips: sucking at the skin on the underside of your jaw. As soon as he hears the choked gasp of his name, sees the way your body reacts to his touch, he seems to instantly lose his nerves. You can feel a wicked smile edge at his lips against your skin and as he presses soft kisses to your skin in lieu of the harsh sucks, he makes up for the gentleness there by fucking you with his fingers so brutally that your lips part but you can’t even make a single noise.

“This what you wanted, bella?” he purrs, but his voice is rough, exposing just how affected he is as he watches you writhe under his touch. “To think, here I was trying to be good and all you were thinking about was when I was finally going to split you open on my cock. How long did I keep you waiting, hm?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond. All you can focus on is the drag of his long, lithe fingers against your walls, the sudden stretch, the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt. It’s wet and filthy and you can barely even breathe, much less speak.

You wanted this. You wanted this so bad. You remember all of the nights you’d spent desperately fucking your fingers, trying to pretend they were his but yours aren’t nearly as long, they can’t hit all of the places his do. You remember coming home with your face on fire, body itching with desire from the casual advances he made but never acted upon. You remember throwing yourself into bed, careful to keep a hand pressed to your mouth or your pillow over your face so he can’t hear from the other room as you let out muffled whimpers. You’ve wanted this so bad, you’ve imagined it so many times before but it pales in comparison to actually having him. His fingers feel so much better, dragging against your walls and pushing back inside of you hard. He’s so much prettier, dark hair matted to his forehead, pupils blown wide and lips still swollen and puffy from kisses; his voice is edged with so much wanton need that you could probably get off from it alone.

The heat spreads through your body fast. Your head feels all light and hazy. Your abdomen twists and coils and god, there’s no way you’ll cum just from this, there’s no way, but your breath becomes quick and pitched, your lungs start to burn and-

And he stops.

“I hate you,” you sob when he purposely stills his fingers inside of you after hearing you reach the edge, feeling the way your walls were starting to clamp down on him. “Osamu-”

He clicks his tongue, lifting his face from your neck to hover above you. His eyes are suddenly mirthful and cruel, his smile is sharp and dangerous—a monster, you’d unleashed a monster.

His free hand comes up so he can brush his knuckles against your cheekbone, fingers tracing the contours of your face before coming to land on your bottom lip, plump and wet from all of his kisses.

“Answer my question,” he says as he traces the outline of your lips. “How long? Fuck, you’re so wet, sliding in like it’s nothing, could probably fuck you as you are right now but I wanna feel you come apart on my fingers first. Tell me, how long have you wanted me to fuck you?”

You don’t even know what you’re saying, forcing something out about your date at the Sankeien Garden two months ago and you remember the way he’d looked so pretty beneath the sakura blossoms and you felt so dirty because all you could think about was dragging him back to your apartment and having him in every way possible. His eyes widen when you admit the date, breath hitching and lips parting.

“That long?” he whispers, eyes searching yours as if to make sure you’re not lying and you think he’s stupid because you hardly have the headspace to think much less lie. His smile widens, teeth looking distinctly close to knives under the dim lighting of the penthouse suite of the resort. He leans down to graze his teeth against your neck. “Well, far be it from me to keep you waiting any longer.”

He lifts his head again before he continues the thrusts of his fingers, so he can watch you, surely—not as harshly, this time he’s precise and steady, each stroke has the pads of his fingers rubbing up against that soft spot inside of you, forcing your head into the clouds and your eyes to roll back.

“Did you get yourself off to the thought of me?” he breathes out, pupils blown wide, you try to rock your hips in time with his fingers but his free hand comes down to your pelvis, pinning you down with that deceptive strength of his. “Press your hand to your mouth to cover the noise, fuck yourself with your fingers while I was sitting in the next room over before we started sharing a bed?”

A broken sob spills from your lips, Dazai’s thumb presses against your clit when you don’t respond. Your thighs tense and tremble, instinctively going to clamp down on his hand but Dazai’s knee wedges between your legs before you can, forcibly keeping them spread. You think you should be embarrassed, you sound so wet, so sloppy, each thrust of his fingers and you can feel the slick splattering across your inner thighs, if you were any more coherent you’d be humiliated but Dazai looks absolutely reverent.

“You did, didn’t you?” he laughs breathlessly. “I heard noises sometimes, I thought maybe you were having nightmares, was tempted to go in and check on you sometimes. Good thing for you I didn’t then, yeah? Would’ve caught my dirty girl fucking herself to the thought of me, wouldn’t that have been a sight?”

Spots dot your vision, your nails claw at the sheets of the bed and you press your face halfway into the mattress as you desperately try to push away your rapidly approaching high, not wanting to cum so quickly, but it’s a losing battle with Dazai’s filthy words ringing through your ears and his fingers splitting you open.

“You must have been so desperate when we started sharing a bed, couldn’t even get yourself off at night anymore. Poor baby, if you’d have just said something I would’ve buried myself between your thighs from sunset to sunrise,” Dazai coos, and you don’t even have to look at him to know his grin is suddenly much more lecherous. “... Unless you just waited until I fell asleep. Did you ever get yourself off while I was laying asleep next to you? Tell me.”

You won’t tell him. You won’t tell him. He’ll never let you live it down but you’ve lost control of your body, your mouth moves before your brain can tell it to stop: “Once,” you choke out, “only once.”

And Dazai moans, it’s unabashed and wanton, eyes fluttering shut as soon as your words register and then he’s picking up the pace of his fingers, precise and ruthless and you don’t even know what you’re trying to say but it doesn’t matter because the only noise that spills from your lips is just another moan, garbled between his name and a please. Distantly, you think the bandages on his wrist and his expensive slacks must be ruined, the lewd sound of his fingers pushing in and out of you drowning out all other noise.

“I’m gonna-” you try to gasp out to warn him, head tossed back and hair matted to your forehead, they’re the only intelligible words to leave your lips but Dazai gets what you’re trying to say, of course.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, watching with the devotion of a disciple to his god as your back arches and cries of his name escape your lips.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, presses down hard on your clit, and you’re gone, you cry his name so loud that you think you should be embarrassed because there’s no way the other resort guests can’t hear what’s happening but in the moment, you’re too fucked out to care. You think you might be dying, your heart thudding in your ears, your body on fire, you don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard in your entire life.

Your body spasms, trembles; he rides out your high, fucking his fingers slowly into you, watching the way you whimper and writhe, you think tears might be spilling over your cheeks, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and your thoughts are confirmed when Dazai leans over you, tongue dating out to lick away the tears.

Your breath hitches and your thighs quake, a jolt spreading through your body when he finally pulls his fingers out of you, your walls still convulsing around the digits. He sits up straight again, thighs straddling your hips and you can feel his cock pressing against your pelvis and you feel insatiable because you just finished and it’s not enough. Even as your body screams with sensitivity, not ready for anymore stimulation, your lashes flutter at the thought of his cock stretching you out, fucking so deep into you that you can feel him in your belly, thicker than his fingers, longer.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth and you watch as a low, muffled groan escapes his lips, eyes rolling back as he sucks your cum right off of his fingers, not letting a single drop go to waste. Filthy. He’s so filthy. Utterly shameless. And god, do you need him.

As if he can read your mind, his hands fall to his belt, fingers fumbling to undo the buckle and pull it off. He flings it over to the side haphazardly, and you reach up, grabbing his dark tie and pulling him down to kiss him again. He moans into your mouth, one arm coming to rest on the mattress by your head to prop himself up and the other still stuffed between your bodies, desperately trying to unbutton and unzip his slacks.

God, he kisses you like you’re about to disappear, as if any moment could be your last. His tongue flattens against yours, sweeping against the roof of your mouth, mapping it out until it’s scorched into his memory; you can hardly do anything but lay there and let him, fingers fisted weakly around his tie.

When he finally does get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped, he doesn’t even bother to pull them off. He shoves them down just enough to free his cock, and your breath hitches when you feel the way it slides against your lower stomach. Your dress bunched up to your chest, you can feel the precum smearing against your skin—he’s so long, you can tell without even looking and for a split second, you wonder if you’ll even be able to take him all the way.

Dazai hardly gives you enough time for the fears to fester. His fingers wrap around your panties to pull them off but the material is thin and lacy and it only tears under his frustrated yank. You don’t even care, you can’t bring yourself to—you’ll make him but you new ones. He won’t complain about that of all things, in fact, he’ll probably have the time of his life.

As soon as your panties are out of the way, Dazai is lining himself up with your cunt—he doesn’t fuck you, not yet, and you think he’s evil for the way he rolls his hips slowly, letting his cock slide between your folds, pelvic bone grinding against your clit. You let out a whine—a whine, you’ve never whined before in your life but you don’t know how else to describe the noise that escapes your lips. Dazai can’t even tease you for it, though, because his whole body shivers at the feeling of his cock slipping between your folds, breath shaky.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, and then he free hand curls around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and he finally thrusts his hips forward, pushing inside of you.

The stretch burns, it burns so good even with how thoroughly he prepped you with his fingers and Dazai lets out such a pornographic moan that you think you might cum just from the sound of it. His lashes flutter, pink dusts his cheek, he rests his forehead against yours, breath so shaky that you think maybe he might be about to cum.

“Feels so good,” he gasps, next to your head, his fingers twist the sheets of the bed until his knuckles are white. “What’re you doin’ to me?”

His words hardly register, but when they do, you’re perplexed.

“What d’ya mean, Osamu?” you breathe out, and the way his body shudders above yours at the sound of his name leaving your lips is fucking heavenly.

“I’ve never-” he chokes over another moan and your throat feels dry when you realize he really might just be about to cum, “it’s never-”

“Hm?” you press when his voice trails off and his eyes half back. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth and he lets out another shaky noise.

“It’s never felt like this,” he pushes out, the words sound like a near slur. “I feel so-”

“So what?”

“So good.” God, his voice comes out close to a sob, broken and cracking, and when you try to move your hips, desperate for him to finally move, he lets out a panicked sound: “I’ll cum. I’ll cum. Don’t move yet, don’t-”

You still if only out of sheer shock of how worked up he already is. His whole body is trembling, he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, you can feel his cock twitching inside you, as if begging for release already. And your body is aching, your tummy is hot and your head is fuzzy, but it pales in comparison to the sight of Dazai crumbling above you just from the feeling of being inside of you. All of smooth talking and filthy words are gone, leaving behind only a man on the brink of falling apart.

“Feel like a virgin.” This sounds distinctly closer to a sob now, and you can’t help but notice that his cheeks are red and hot, his lashes are wet as they flutter shut—you wonder if he’s embarrassed. “S’tight, and-and wet. Fuck, fuck, what’re ya doing to me, bella? ‘s never happened before.”

Your hands slide up his body to cup his cheeks, dragging his face back down to press your lips against his, and when he moans into your mouth as soon as your lips are touching, he’s finally rocking his hips up into you. The pace is harsh and erratic, as if he’s already desperately trying to chase his release, and you can’t breathe, you can’t think. The tip of his cock bullies so deep inside of you that you think you might die, you think he might actually be splitting you open.

Your lips part in a noiseless moan, your head spins, Dazai fucks you harder, faster, so deeply that it almost hurts because each thrust has him brushing closer and closer to your cervix, hips slapping against your ass and thighs so roughly they’ll probably be bruised tomorrow; it tears the air from your lungs, you think you might pass out because you can’t seem to catch your breath. All of his finesse and touches driven by practiced ease are long gone; there’s something about this so carnal, driven by sheer lust, that it has your head in the clouds. And Dazai is always loud, he fills every silence he stumbles upon, but he’s especially loud now as he moans your name and claws at the sheets next to your head, gasping and panting and cursing each time he feels your walls convulse around him.

You don’t even realize it when you cum. There’s no build up this time. One thrust sends you over the edge as his cock presses up against that soft spot inside of you and his pelvic bone grinds just right over your clit, and instantly you’re spasming beneath him, your nails dig into his dress shirt and your body arches against his, head tossed back against the mattress and vision going spotty. Your lips are moving but you don’t know if screaming his name or if there’s no noise leaving you at all.

All you do know is that as soon as you’re cumming on his cock, walls tightening around him, Dazai’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, hair matted to his forehead as he tosses his head back, jaw falling slack. There’s no warning when his hips still against yours and he’s suddenly pumping you full of his cum.

He slumps on top of you, body limp and shoulders still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. You’re desperately trying to ground yourself again, trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate, Dazai’s face is buried in your neck and you can feel how his back rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his own breath.

“So embarrassing,” you hear him slur from where he’s pressed against the crook of your neck still. “‘s never happened before.”

You can’t help the giggle that spills from your lips and he groans against you.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he complains, rolling off of you so he can pull you into his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you rest half on top of him, letting out a soft sigh. “Next time, I’ll show you. You’ll regret laughing.”

“I’m sure,” you say, more to placate him than anything else, and he grumbles but doesn’t respond.

The two of you bask in each other’s presence for a few moments before he finally asks again, “You’ll really wait for me?” His voice is so soft that you might not have heard it if you weren’t so close to him.

You turn your face to the side to kiss his chest, smiling against his skin. “Only if you promise not to forget me while you’re gone.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, tilting his head down to kiss the top of your head. His voice is hoarse and stripped bare to of his unbound emotions for the first time as he says, “The thought of you will be the only thing that gets me through this.”

However bad that Dazai might’ve thought the weeks without you were going to be, it’s been worse. Only sheer willpower and the image of you waiting for him back home is pushing him through the trials and tribulations that Dostoevsky continues to push him through.

At first, the mind games and taunts and the puzzles of misdirection and manipulation were fun; Dazai has never conversed so long with someone who can keep up with his every thought and every plan. Fyodor Dostoevsky is impressive, Dazai can’t deny that, but the fun of the games is swiftly coming to an end the longer he has to stay in this wretched cell with even more wretched company.

He doesn’t have much to do—he has around four square meters to move around in, which is barely enough for him to comfortably stretch. All he does is lay in bed all day, waiting for Ango’s signals as he tries to anticipate Dostoevsky’s each and every move. His brain throbs and aches, having been placed on overdrive for weeks without rest because he knows one mistake on his part will lead to the fall of the Agency, the death and ruin of the few people he might actually consider friends.

The rare moments he allows it to rest, he thinks of you. He wonders what you’re doing back in Yokohama—maybe having coffee at that cafe near your apartment building, or meeting some of your friends from university for drinks. He wonders if you’re holding true to your words, if you’re actually waiting for him or if you moved on the moment he disappeared—he hopes that you are, because the thought of you, and getting to be with you again, is the only thing that’s keeping the gears of his worn out, exhausted brain turning.

A part of him wonders if you know what’s happening. Well, he knows that you must have some inkling—the Decay of the Angel’s plot has been a vastly public one, and you’re typically on top of current events. He wishes that he knew your thoughts on it. He wonders if you’d fallen victim to the Book, believing that the Agency are the terrorists that they’ve been written to be. He wonders if you were able to fight against the Book’s influence, because he knows that the Book can’t possibly be infallible—nothing is, there will always be cracks for exceptions to seep through. He hopes that you’re one of them.

He wonders if his crimes had become public knowledge too.

The thought makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, regret creeping through his chest because if you were going to learn about his past, it should’ve been from him, not from a random news outlet that’ll make him out to be the treacherous monster he really is, the one he’s taken so much care to hide from you. At least if he’d been the one to tell you, he could’ve framed it in a way of his choice—though he’s not sure how exactly he could frame something like that in his favor, it at least would’ve been better than the news.

He wants to ask Ango, but he knows that he can’t—not when the more pressing matter is the Agency and clearing its name. His own personal matters have to be pushed to the side until that’s handled, no matter how much his heart screeches at him otherwise.

This is why he hates emotions.

“Dazai,” Dostoevsky suddenly says and Dazai is immediately ripped from the brief respite he’d allowed his brain, although it wasn’t much of a respite considering he spent the whole time anxious about you. A smile graces Dostoevsky’s face that Dazai instantly doesn’t like. “Let us switch chess boards for a moment.”

Dazai’s eyes narrow. “To which one?”

“Yokohama,” Dostoevsky says absently. “... Knight from D5 to E3.”

Dazai stares for a moment—Knight from D5 to E3? The move is somewhat appalling in Dazai’s mind, but only because he can’t put together the reasoning behind it. It’s a dangerous push onto his side of the board, and for what reason? Most of Dazai’s pieces are setting up on the opposite corner of the board for an attempt to take out Dostoevsky’s bishop, which is what Dazai expected Dostoevsky to focus on protecting.

Dazai sits up in his bed, unable to hide the way his brows furrow a bit as he visualizes their chessboard, eyes darting around to each piece, trying to figure out what exactly in this game has slipped past his weary brain, lost in the dozens of chess games that he’s currently playing against Dostoevsky. And as he looks from piece to piece, he begins to understand.

There are only two pieces left vulnerable to the play that Dostoevsky is about to make.

Dazai’s expression hardens, Dostoevsky’s smile widens.

If Dazai doesn’t continue with his plan on the opposite side of the board, the opportunity will be lost and the Agency will not get another like this. Dazai clearly underestimated just how little Dostoevsky cares about his pieces—he doesn’t care whether or not his bishop is captured—he has a greater aim anyway.

The chessboard of the game he’s visualizing begins to crumble before his eyes and his vision starts to tunnel, a chill spreads through his chest, to his arms and to his fingers.

He needs to contact Ango, but Dazai’s heart is racing on its own now and he can barely control himself enough to send a message to the older man. In one move, Dostoevsky will be able to position his knight in a way that will have Dazai’s king in check and his queen left vulnerable. And Dazai will be left with no choice—allowing Ranpo to be captured by the Hunting Dogs is not an option, everything will fall apart. He needs to contact Ango. But he realizes that even if he does get the message through, he doesn’t know if Ango will receive it or if he’s too busy with plans at the Sky Casino. And even if he does receive it, Ango might not even be able to do anything.

“Dazai, dear, you’re taking quite a long time with this move—don’t tell me I have you in a corner already. It would be very disappointing, I expected better from you,” Dostoevsky’s faux-congenial voice mocks him from the other cell, and Dazai wants blood.

“Rook from B5 to F5,” Dazai’s voice sounds hollow and cold to his own ears as he continues forward with the plan he had set in motion at the cost of the one person Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle losing. The tips of his fingers feel numb as he waits for the inevitable.

Dostoevsky’s teeth are like knives.

“How callous and cold-hearted of you. I must say, I’m impressed—I really didn’t think you had it in you, you truly are the prodigy they all claim you to be. Knight from D5 to E3. Check to King at F1.”

“King from F1 to F2.”

“Knight from E3 to D1.”

And just like that, the one piece that Dazai has refused to touch the whole game falls. His ears ring and his brain throbs painfully, his throat feels dry and scratchy but he refuses to give Dostoevsky the reaction that he’s waiting for. The Russian finally speaks the words that finalize the play:

“Queen captured.”

“138 counts of conspiracy to murder. 312 counts of extortion. 625 counts of assorted fraud. Numerous other known crimes, countless unknown crimes. A former executive of the Port Mafia known as the Demon Prodigy, the youngest underboss in the history of the Mafia.”

You think it’s ridiculous. Or, you want to think that it’s ridiculous. You want to condemn the words as ludicrous as the idea of the members of the Armed Detective Agency being terrorists. These whole past two weeks have thrown you for a loop—you were sitting at your laptop watching a reality show to pass time when you got the notifications on your phone regarding the terrorist attack on the Ministry of Defense, the very place you were supposed to start working at soon.

You’d been watching with your heart in your throat until they were finally unveiled, and the moment they were, you were caught entirely off guard because what on earth? You saw it with your own eyes, but you still can’t bring yourself to believe it because what do you mean Mister Fifty-Eight Ideals with a moral high ground taller than the peak of Everest, Kunikida Doppo, is a terrorist? Tanizaki Jun’ichiro, the sweet boy who joins his sister down in the cafe with you when you’re waiting for Dazai to finish getting scolded by Kunikida, buying you a coffee and pastry? Izumi Kyouka, the young girl who looked at you with stars in her eyes when you brought her a crepe from the bakery near your apartment? Yosano Akiko, the woman who loves so hard and so deeply even if she does hide behind a rough facade, taking you, a stranger, in without hesitation just because of how happy you make Dazai?

There’s no way. You live in a world where men can transform into tigers and women can bring people back from the brink of death—there has to be something supernatural going on, you can’t bring yourself to believe that this is reality.

But are you equally as sure about the allegations against Dazai?

You try to make sure that the conflict doesn’t show on your face as your mind races—you remember the night in Kyoto when you asked him about his previous job and how he reacted to it, you also remember how the waiters and the hostess and even the owner had treated him. Your heart sinks and your throat tightens a bit, you have to force yourself to focus on the conversation at hand.

The young man dressed in a burgundy military uniform sitting before you has a smile that can only be described as cruel, the red tips of his hair brushing his chin as he tilts his head to the side. “I do hope you understand how critical it is for us to obtain as much information as possible. We are authorized to go to any lengths to prevent the deterioration of this situation—if someone is suspected of giving refuge to any of the terrorists, or assisting them in any other way, they will be charged with conspiracy against the government and the aiding and abetting of global terrorism. We have full power to act on our own discretion and take in anyone who presumes to be uncooperative to our questioning.”

“Is that a threat?” you finally ask, absently circling your coffee mug.

There are people looking at you—you’d chosen to sit outside of the cafe, and the streets are busy. You recognize two elderly women who frequent the cafe giving you concerned looks; three high school students sharing intrigued looks as one of them starts to video the encounter, knowing that any footage of the famed Hunting Dogs and the ongoing international crisis is a quick ticket to going viral; a businessman and his wife meeting for an early lunch before he goes back to work.

Good, you think.

“Only if you have something to hide,” the young man, who introduced himself as Jouno Saigiku, replies easily, smile sharpening a bit. “Do you have something to hide?”

“Why would I have something to hide?” you ask instead of replying, eyes narrowing.

“You tell me.”

“I have nothing to tell you.”

Distantly, you can hear the chatter of passerbyers walking down the sidewalk, the screeching of brakes as a car comes to an abrupt stop a few blocks down, the soft music coming from inside the cafe, but your gaze is tunneled on the young man sitting in front of you. His face is deceptively calm, eyes turned up and expression smooth, but you can see how the corner of his lip is pulled taut. More people begin paying attention to your conversation—you recognize some of them as regular patrons of the cafe who you’ve spoken to multiple times.

“I think you do,” Jouno says idly. “Even if it weren’t for the way your heart is racing… this is damning enough, isn’t it?”

You raise your chin as Jouno slides over a manila folder to you. You don’t move to look at it for a moment, eyes lingering on his face before you finally flip it open, lips pressing together tightly. Dozens of pictures of you and Dazai lay within the envelope, pulled from CCTV tape all around the city—most of the pictures are innocent enough to pass off as two acquaintances having a cup of coffee, but there are a few questionable ones.

And god, you miss him. Just seeing his face is enough to make your heart long for him, it’s only been what? A week and a half? But it’s been hell going from seeing him every day to not even knowing what happened to him until now… with all of this, learning about his crimes, finding out he’s imprisoned in the highest security ability user prison in the world, as you’re being interrogated by a member of the country’s most elite military unit.

It’s too much, you think. What the hell are you even supposed to think of it all?

You don’t even have time to think, not with this rabid dog sitting in front of you ready to leap for your throat at the first sign of weakness.

“How so?” you ask after you get your head back on straight, flipping the folder shut. “I’ve met with Dazai Osamu before. So have dozens of people in this cafe, hundreds of people around the city. Misaki-san, the older lady over there, has lunch with Kunikida-san twice weekly. Sayuri-chan, the high-schooler sitting two tables over, goes to Yosano-sensei for check-ups because her parents are hardly around to bring her to the doctor’s office. Takeuchi-san has tea with Fukuzawa-dono every Wednesday. Half of the city is intimately connected with the Armed Detective Agency, in one way or another—they’re active citizens, frequent faces around the streets, always helping when given the chance. Are you going to interrogate every citizen who has ever spent free time with a member of the Armed Detective Agency? Accuse them of conspiracy against the government and the aiding and abetting of terrorism?”

Your words cause a bit of a subtle shockwave across the eavesdroppers—a range of emotions from anxiety to indignance crossing faces, just as you hoped would happen. You figured that there would be no way of you really getting out of this, but you hope at least to trigger a bit of unrest. You know that a lot of the city’s civilians haven’t been fond of how the Hunting Dogs are handling this situation, despite them having authority from the Prime Minister to go to any lengths to regain control over the crisis.

And it’ll hit them hard seeing an upstanding, regular civilian being targeted for vague affiliation with a group that thousands of people in the city have had a vague affiliation with. Because if it happens to an upstanding, regular civilian, it can happen to any upstanding, regular civilian, and if it can happen to any upstanding, regular civilian, it can happen to them. You think most of the civilians in the city have been biting their tongues out of fear of the escalating terror, but once any civilian that’s ever affiliated themselves with the Agency becomes at risk for being under suspicion, under threat, then they’ll be forced to voice their discontent lest they be targeted next.

“So, we’re going to do this the hard way then,” Jouno notes pleasantly, his smile is tight and there’s a tinge to his voice that you can only decipher as a threat. “Good, I was hoping it turned out this way.”

You remember the warning you’d gotten the night before: ‘The Hunting Dogs will come after you next, get out of the city - R’ and a part of you wishes that you’d taken the warning more seriously and gotten the hell out of Yokohama in the middle of the night before you could be interrogated. You’ll lose your internship, it might affect your standing in your university. You wonder if your brother would be disappointed, he spent his whole life trying to build a better one for you—sacrificing his happiness, morality, and eventually his life—and here you are about to throw it away.

Are you really going to do this?

You swallow thickly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You think of Dazai—you think of the chilling list of crimes and his current imprisonment, you think of the promise you made before he fell off the face of the earth, you think of the nights you spent together, you think of the past few months you’ve lived with him. You realize that they’ve been the happiest you’ve been in your entire life, and you think that your brother might understand, because more than giving you a better life, he wanted you to have a happy one.

Yeah, you’re really going to do this.

You’ll get your answers from Dazai himself. You know in your heart that something bigger is going on, there’s no way that the members of the Agency are the terrorists that the world claims them to be and you don’t know if something else could possibly be going on with Dazai and the allegations against him as well. You think you know deep down that there’s likely some semblance of truth to them, but you owe it to him—and more importantly, to yourself—to hear it directly from him.

Until then, your loyalty stays with him.

“I guess so,” you agree softly, before turning your gaze up to Agatsuma Misaki, who’s looking increasingly more distressed by the whole situation. “Misaki-san, would you please let Hotaru-san and Hideyoshi-san know what happened here? I’m sure they’ll be worried when I don’t return home tonight, I don’t want them to lose any sleep over me.”

Agatsuma Misaki clutches her necklace to her chest as she nods, her wrinkled face bunched up in concern, and the woman sitting with her looks equally horrified. The three high schoolers sitting two tables away are sharing wide-eyed looks with each other, whispering under their breaths as they point to the one boy’s phone, still evidently recording. The businessman, Takeuchi Isamu, is watching with hawk eyes, but his fingers are tapping away at the phone he’s hiding beneath the table.

Jouno Saigiku rises to his feet, smile sharp and bordering on malicious as he says your name and then:

“You are under arrest for conspiracy against the government and aiding and abetting the Armed Detective Agency in their terrorism against the State of Japan and the entire world.”

— the only development in the smut scene itself is reader very briefly acknowledging that she loves him (internally, she doesn't tell him) and dazai acknowledging that he's avoided any intimacy because he's been worried that she's going to think he only was into her for sex because they've had encounters with ex flings of his & she's heard about him sleeping around from the rest of the agency. so a bit of openness from dazai and a brief acknowledgment of real feelings from reader.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

if devotion is a river (then i'm floating away) . hangman

pairing ; jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; in your bedroom on a saturday night, jake reminds you what it is to be alive.

wc ; 4.5k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, explicit sexual content (p in v, daddy kink, finger sucking, dom/sub dynamic, reader might be in subspace??, unprotected sex), this is all v consensual and they're both aware of what to do to tap out but it's not explicitly stated

note: i'm going to hell. i am SO sorry. also pls don't spring kinks on your partner out of nowhere, y'all gotta discuss that first, this is only okay in fiction ashdhfjkgjr

desertsagecelestial aka sol... you're my rock (star).

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a song… drifting, shifting, dancing through the air.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a river… flowing, rushing, pouring into the sea.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like summer… blooming, beaming, glowing.

All this to say: It’s an accident, the first time it happens.

“You like that, hmm, honey?” Jake asks, his voice drifting to you from far, far away. “Missed my cock?”

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night - soft light, soft sheets, soft moonlight spilling in through half-closed curtains. You’re soft too, soft in the nightgown he got you last Christmas, the fabric rucked up all the way over your breasts, where his spit is still drying on your nipples. Soft with your hair down and your mind fuzzy and your lips loose.

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night. All of it, except Jake. Jake who is unyielding, relentless. Edges in the streamlined world you’ve lived in while he was gone. A rock in a rushing river.

You can’t answer. There’s so much to say that you can’t find the words for any of it, can barely hold onto the tether of reality that anchors you to who you are. You’re drifting now - a balloon cut loose.

Jake’s been gone for two weeks. Just two weeks… If you total it up, count it against the stretch of your life, all the days and all the months and all the years, it’s insignificant. A blip. A heartbeat.

But that’s not how it felt while you were in it. While you were walking through the days like a sleepwalker, a constant hum beneath your skin, an itch you couldn’t scratch. Something that built and expended and grew until your skin felt too small to hold you. Until the expensive sheets rubbed you raw. Until you stared at your computer at work every day without seeing anything, spoke to coworkers without hearing, did your groceries and your dishes and your laundry without remembering why or how or when.

It doesn’t always happen. But sometimes, when Jake’s gone, you stop feeling like a person and start feeling like a concept instead.

It’s a strange feeling, a scary space of mind. Where everything’s too much, all the noise and the people and the light. Where you go loopy and jumpy and irritable and can’t even recognize yourself in mirrors. When you need somebody to help you, need somebody to take care of you.

Need Jake to take care of you. Fuck the feeling out of you.

Need Jake to put his hands on you and tell you you’re here and you’re real, and I won’t let you drift away from me.

Jake plunges his cock deeper into you, hand sliding from your hip to your stomach. He’s got big hands, elegant ones, long fingers, and blunt, short nails. Palm spreading flat, fingers splayed, it feels like he can reach from hipbone to hipbone.

Your answering sound is pathetic. In fact, you feel pretty pathetic right now. The sound of your slick, needy pussy sucking him in, again and again, the involuntary noises it punches out of you. The opened mouth, the face pressed into the mattress. You don’t even have the strength to raise your head.

“Asked you a question, honey,” Jake says, leaning down to press an open-mouthed, hot kiss to the slope of your shoulder. “You’re not even gonna answer? Did I fuck the brains out of you already?”

Your lips move, but no words come. He presses his hand a little harder against your stomach, and you wonder if he can feel his own cock moving beneath the skin there. The thought has your eyes crossing, your ears ringing.

It doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters, you think, a streak of fatalism shining through, nothing but the feeling of Jake’s cock in you. You never want him to stop, want him to keep fucking you forever, always riding that razor’s edge, slow-dancing on that precipice, want him to…

Abruptly, Jake stops moving. He’s still and thick and impossibly deep inside of you, and it’s so sudden it lurches you, lunges at you from the fog that’s gathered around your mind. You make a garbled sound, almost a shout, try to move your hips backward, try to fuck yourself on him, get that friction back, that thing that makes you feel real, but Jake stills you with the hand on your hip, holds you in place right there. On your knees beneath him.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll give you my cock again,” he promises, the fingers on your stomach tapping against your skin gently. “Just tell me, honey. You miss me?”

In the ruin of yourself, you can’t find your voice. So you just nod, again and again, head still pressed against the sheets, nose squished down. You’ve spent the past two weeks afraid of the moment when the pillows and blankets stop smelling of him, and it’s good to know that, at the very least, tomorrow you won’t have to worry about that anymore.

The fingers around your hip tighten, nails biting down for just a second, and you yelp, then moan, body twitching as you can’t decide whether to move into the feeling or away from it. You imagine him leaving a mark, imagine the imprint of his hand on your skin, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

“Out loud,” Jake reminds you, steel in his voice. “Tell me you missed my cock.”

You’ll start crying soon, you can feel it—that tell-tale tingling behind the bridge of your nose, the burning in your eyes. Frantically, you try to remember how to speak, how to move your tongue.

His dog tags dangle between you, tracing over the ladder of your spine like fingers of ice. You shiver.

“Yes,” you croak finally, voice like gravel, voice like a gasp. “Missed you. Always miss you, Jake, miss you...”

He hums, fingers tapping once, twice, three times against your hip. “Not the right answer, honey.”

In your chest, your heart squeezes to the point of pain. It’s so difficult to form a single coherent thought. Like you’re wading through molasses, through marshland, seeing him standing far, far on the shore, and you want to get to him, want to run, but you just can’t move fast enough. Can’t even put one foot in front of the other.

“Jake…” you whisper.

He doesn’t even say anything, just makes a sound above you, a soft, scolding, displeased tsk, and it has your stomach swooping. Is he upset? He sounds upset. You don’t want him to be upset. You want to be good for him, want to make him happy the same way he makes you happy. You want to be his best girl, always, always, always.

The thought that you’re being bad, you’re doing something wrong, bounces around your empty head like a tennis ball. You’re frantic now, desperate, on the verge of a great, big fall.

It takes all you have, but somehow you manage to say, “Please. Please, Jake, I missed you, I need you, missed your cock, I missed you, missed you….”

Jake sighs, shushes you as his palm wanders up and up and up, from your stomach over your ribs, flattens to your chest, right where your heart is thundering like it’s trying to press a pattern into his skin.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “I’ll give it to you. Give you anything you need.”

The words have you preening, some knot you didn’t even know existed, loosening in your stomach.

And then finally, mercifully, blissfully, he starts to move again.

The first plunge of his cock through your wetness lights you on fire, ignites something in you. You clench around him, push your face into the sheets that smell like him, and wish he could be closer, wish you could kiss him or hold his hand or climb into his bloodstream. It’s a liquid heat - one that shifts and flows through you, that courses through your veins, that consumes you.

Like he can read your thoughts, Jake leans down, covers you with his body. It’s his chest pressing to your back, hot and a little sticky with sweat. It’s the cold metal of the dog tags shoved against your spine, the thought of his name imprinted on your back. It’s the sound of his quick breaths in your ear. It’s the feeling of the belt buckle pressing against the soft meat of your thigh, clanging against you with each thrust.

Jake always knows what you need. He always gives it to you eventually.

“That good?” he asks, voice pressed against the shell of your ear. “That’s what you need, isn’t it, honey?”

And you just moan, then nod, then move your hips back against him and babble, “Yes, yes, yes, Jake, so good, thank you, thank you….”

Under any other circumstances, it would be embarrassing. Humiliating.

Like this, you don’t care.

In this bedroom, with Jake deeper inside of you than anybody before - everywhere, your heart and your cunt and your soul - there’s not really a choice anyway. Eventually, the truth comes spilling from you always—no secrets between him and you.

Jolted by the force of his hips fucking into you, his hand on your chest slips an inch or two, dry palm rasping over your hard nipple, and you let out a strangled sound, a moan or a shout or a whimper, fingers tugging at the top sheet, cunt squeezing around him like a vice, and suddenly you’re so, so close. At every thrust forward, your clit pushes against the firm mattress. At every pull backward, it catches on the fabric beneath you.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“Tell me,” Jake says, his voice finding you, always finding you, even when you feel like you’re millions of miles away from this bedroom, even when you feel like you might as well have entered a different universe. His hand tightens around your breast, almost to the point of pain but all it does is send another jolt of electricity straight to your clit. “Tell me, honey. Pretty pussy’s so fucking wet, god. This is what you needed, right? This is what you’ve been thinking about all this time I was gone? Wanted me to fuck this needy little cunt, wanted me to take care of you, didn’t you?”

You want to say, yes, Jake. You should say, yes, Jake.

But your head is so empty, your whole consciousness reduced to nothing but the sensation of it all - the wet glide of his cock in your pussy. The hitched rhythm of his heart against your back. The pressure of his lips against the nape of your neck. The metal of the dog tags, the belt. The way you’ve barely held on for the past few weeks, have turned into a shell of yourself, have forgotten what it feels like to enjoy, to feel, to do anything but follow a routine, and how he’s back now, how Jake’s here, how he holds you together, helps you do what you can’t do yourself. How he takes care of you, always, always, always.

So what you say instead, what tumbles from your lips like something secret, like something forbidden, something you didn’t even know you carried inside you, what punches out of you on a desperate gasp, is, “Daddy.”

Behind you, above you, inside you, Jake freezes.

It’s not even much of a sound at all, whimpered into the sheets as it is, too little air left in your lungs to make it loud. And still. He’s heard, definitely.

The panic is instantaneous. It trickles into you like somebody upended a bucket of ice cubes over you. Claws along your bones. Burrows into your chest.

Oh god. What did I just do?

“Honey,” Jake says, and his voice is very quiet, very low, impossible to decipher when your ears are ringing, and your heart is thundering, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning.

“No,” you say almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t….”

Jake pulls out of you with a slick, gross sound, and even through it all, through the mortification, the humiliation, the horror, you can’t help but whimper at the loss of him.

For a moment, you just lie there, face hidden in the mattress, thinking, this is it. This is where I went too far. He’s going to hate me, he’s going to…

And then Jake rolls you around. Hands on your hips as you go from your stomach to your back, as the room spins around you. He leaves your legs splayed wide open, pushes between them, and the belt buckle swings between you, slaps against your clit, and this time you can’t bite back the shout, stars reeling in front of your eyes.

Jake’s face appears above you, and you can do nothing but blink at him, the shame still rampant in your chest.

And then it’s his hips pressing between your thighs, his cock, still wet with your arousal, pushing against your pussy, it’s his chest against yours, and his mouth opening over your own, tongue plunging between your parted lips, his fingers sinking into your hair.

He pulls back, pupils blown so wide his eyes look almost black, cheeks flushed, lips pink and rosy from your kiss, and he says, “Say it again.”

“It…” you stutter, whimper, try again, “I’m sorry, Jake, I’m sorry, I….”

The panic has cleared your head somewhat, but you’re still under the surface, tons and tons of water dragging you ever deeper towards that ocean floor where everything is quiet and nothing hurts. You’re still lost somewhere in that haze.

Jake is shaking his head, and in the twilight of your bedroom, his eyes gleam.

“Not that,” he says, pushing his hips forward, so the tip of his cock drags slowly, torturously over your clit, so your eyes roll back in your head, “what you said before. Call me that again.”

It’s not difficult to read that tone of voice, to understand the fingers grasping at your collarbone, the insistent, relentless rubbing against your center. To interpret it as desire.

But something’s shifted now, something that makes you hide your face in his neck, shake your head, hope he doesn’t look at you. Suddenly, the truth eludes you.

“No,” you say again, even though you both know you’re lying. “It’s… I didn’t mean it.”

Without warning, Jake slides back inside of you, slides back home, and you sob with it, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips, ankle hooking around his thigh to open yourself wider. Nerves on fire.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers into your ear, lips soft against the side of your jaw. “I got you. You can let go.”

But you shake your head, grasp him tighter, wrap both arms around his neck. Hold onto the last shreds of your sanity with desperation. Sometimes it’s scary to let control slip away so completely.

Jake’s fingers slide around to cup the back of your neck, fingertips teasing over the short hairs at the nape, and then he squeezes, applies the tiniest bit of pressure, and says, “Who’s got you, honey?”

And in the end, you always do what he asks you to. You always give in. Because when you’re good for him - that’s when he makes it so, so good for you.

It spills from you, unstoppably, the truth like a river that rushes forth.

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Please.”

The reaction is visceral - Jake groans, shudders against you, cock jumping where he’s buried in you. For a moment, you think he’s going to cum, but then he just moans, traces his lips over your throat, and starts moving.

He wastes no time with teasing, too wound-up himself, doesn’t go at the slow, steady pace he’d kept up before. Instead, it’s raw and frantic and desperate, it’s quick and deep, his hips rutting against yours, his gasps by your ear.

Through a fog, through a haze, through an ocean, you realize that while Jake always gives you what you need, you give it right back to him. Even the things neither of you knew hid inside of you.

It’s the sweetest kind of torture. A slow death that keeps climbing, that carries you higher and higher and higher. He’s so thick inside of you, spearing you open over and over, and your chest feels warm, warmer, hot, your mind fizzling out at the edges, your mouth opening.

Distantly, you’re aware of all the noise you’re making, the sobs and the whines and the moans, the groans from Jake, the squelch of your pussy as he plunges in and out in and out in and out. It only sends you spiraling higher.

Jake grabs one of your legs just below the knee, fingers tight, draws back to hook it over his shoulder, and then he sinks even deeper, goes just a bit harder. Hips pistoning against your own, belt buckle leaving indentations on your thighs. How insane, you think, that he’s still wearing his pants. That they’re still somewhere around his knees, that you’re so bare, so spread-open, so naked in front of him, and he’s still wearing his fucking pants. It sends another jolt through you.

Some sudden presence of mind, some remote, belated compassion for your neighbors has you biting your lower lip to keep the mewls at bay. The sharp sting of your teeth against the tender skin is almost grounding, almost leveling.

Jake’s thumb finds your mouth almost immediately, tugs your lip gently from beneath the pressure of your teeth.

“Gonna hurt yourself, baby,” he says softly. As if he doesn’t like hurting you sometimes. As if he doesn’t like seeing it.

Regardless. There’s a gentleness to it, a tenderness, that has your stomach rolling, your muscles bearing down on him, your head rearing back.

You just do what he says, the way you pretty much always do when he’s balls-deep in you, suppress the instinct to bite down. Instead, your mouth stays hanging open, lips parted wide, and suddenly you feel so empty, so goddamn empty that you ache with it in a way you can’t explain.

A whine escapes you, a pathetic, pleading little thing, and you open even wider, hoping that somehow he’ll know what you want without having to verbalize it.

And, like always, he does.

“I got you, honey,” he whispers, and two fingers slip between your parted lips, press down on your tongue. “Always got you, don’t I?”

You just moan around the digits in your mouth, drawing it a little deeper, sucking on it, lathering your tongue all over the callouses on his fingertips. It feels good to know he’s everywhere, to feel so full, to have him inside and above and to smell him everywhere after the absence of the past weeks, after the longing and the yearning. The motion of his fingers in your mouth has saliva dripping from the corners of your lips, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed anymore.

Jake’s fucked any trace of shame out of you.

“You wanna come, honey?” he asks, his voice breathless, his thrusts stuttering.

You moan around his fingers in answer, nipping at the tips. He hisses, and then he’s drawing his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue, reaching down between your bodies to rub your own drool into your clit.

The touch of his fingertips, the figure eights he draws against the swollen bundle of nerves, the punch of his cock, the unrelenting rhythm of it all has you keening. You turn your head to the side, his lips catching your cheek instead, squeeze your eyes shut, press your face into the mattress, and marvel at the galaxies swimming by rapidly in front of you.

“Good girl,” Jake whispers, and you mewl, nod along, because you are good, good for him, his best girl, always, always, and you know it, feel it when he’s inside of you, and you’re drowning, pushed down by the currents of all this pleasure, and you don’t care not one bit, happy to die like this, happy to…

“Let go now, honey,” Jake says, kisses you so sweetly, lets his lips wander up and down the column of your throat, presses his mouth to your cheekbone like you’re standing in the vegetable section at the supermarket, like you’re getting drinks in a bar, like you’re watching the sunset at the beach, like he isn’t fucking your brains out, like he isn’t moving you like a puppet, all your strings pulled by him. “Let go for daddy, baby. I wanna feel it, wanna feel you squeezing my cock, wanna….”

It barrels into you. Waves knocking you over, currents pulling you under, vision sizzling at the edges, black eating its way towards the center. A film caught on fire.

You clench around him, back arching off the mattress, chest straining into him, arms and legs tightening, fingers spasming, and you’re babbling nonsense, babbling daddy, daddy, please, yesyesyes, please, Jake, I can’t…

And then it’s just slick, it’s just wet, it’s just white-hot relief sucker-punching you, coursing through you, and it’s lifting into the air like a song, it’s rushing like a river, it’s hot like summer, and you sob into his neck, tears mingling with the sweat and the spit and it feels like it’ll never end, like it’ll keep going and going forever and ever and ever.

Jake moans loudly, hips punching forward of their own accord, whispering praise and filth and anything that comes to mind, once, twice, three times, and then he stills, buried to the hilt, shoulders rounding as he curves over you, around you, as it bowls him over, as he spills deep inside of you.

The warmth of it, spreading through you, has you whimpering, clinging to him. And you’re so full, you never want it to end, never want to feel anything but this again.

And Jake’s trembling in your arms, panting, both of you trying to come down from your highs as you hold each other, as you lie in the mess of the sheets and your own spend, heads spinning, hearts soaring, pressed together from chest to stomach to thighs.

When his weight threatens to crush you, Jake brushes a tender kiss to the side of your shin before carefully moving it from his shoulder. You gasp, the strain finally catching up to you, feeling the rawness of all your muscles. You’re aching all over, in the best of ways.

“Jesus,” he whispers, leaning down to press kisses to your face, to your nose, your eyebrow, the edge of your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

In the aftermath, there’s nothing but a quiet, pleasant buzz in your brain. White noise. Like zapping through radio stations and finding only static.

“I’m…” You search for some semblance of words within you, tightening your legs around his waist to keep him in place. To keep him from slipping from you before you feel like a whole person again. “Sorry, I… I don’t know….”

And Jake laughs, leans down again to rub his nose over yours, to brush a single, tender kiss to your mouth.

“Honey,” he says, voice soft, touch soft, eyes gleaming in the soft, soft light of the bedside lamp. “Don’t apologize. You did so good.”

You can’t really look at him. The reality of it all is catching up quickly, and part of you wants to be embarrassed, but the rest of you is too full, too satisfied, too happy to really care.

“I just… it wasn’t too much?”

You didn’t even know that this was something you wanted. Sure, your thoughts had toyed with the idea once or twice when you were all alone in your room with your fingers in your panties, but it had been so far-fetched you hadn’t ever broached the topic with Jake. Hadn’t even considered it.

And now it hangs between you, all of a sudden undeniable. All of a sudden so very real.

You’re still so dizzy. So far removed from yourself. So confused by it all.

Jake cups your cheek, fingertips sliding into your hair, and he tilts your face up so you can’t look anywhere but at him. His familiar face, his eyes filled with love, his mouth curving downward with concern.

“Honey,” he says, very gently, very earnestly, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. You’re always, always so good for me.”

And you don’t know why. Can’t explain it. But it makes you sob, makes the tears spill over, all the emotions crowding in your mouth, making your tongue heavy like lead, making it impossible to speak. You feel raw and hollowed-out in a strange way, drained of energy and so overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, by how good it was, by how much you love him, by how he accepts you, always, without question.

Jake gathers you in his arms, gets his knees under him so he can draw you into his lap, so you can cling to him like a monkey, like an octopus, like something else unattractive that latches onto things. His softened cock slips from you, a gush of wetness following that makes you whimper, and when he withdraws, stupid as it is, it’s like he takes a piece of you with him.

For a while, he just holds you, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair, saying you’re my good girl, I love you, honey, I love you so much, you’re always, always so good for me, my best girl, my love, you’re all mine, yeah? Never gonna let you go, never, never…

You just cry it out into his neck, listening to the steady hum of his voice, the rumble in his chest, let the warmth of the words wash over you until finally, slowly, for the first time since he left, the feeling returns into you. Until finally, it’s like you’re almost whole again, right there in his arms.

Eyes dry, nose runny, exhausted beyond words, you turn your head a little, face lolling against his collarbone, and you say, “Thank you, Jake.”

There’s so much in it. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for holding me together when I can’t do it myself.

And he smiles, face tender, arms tightening around you, holding you like he never wants to let go.

He says, “Always, honey. Always.”

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: idiar

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