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chishiyasbiscuits · 4 months ago

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simon says! || chishiya x reader xo

[3.8k words.]

[Warning: Smut, your casual riding, very casual. No extra kinks, I don't believe? Any extra warnings, do inform, please, and thank you!]

[This is a long one to initiate my return. I'm proud of this one, and excited to share, I haven't written with Chishiya in a year, and I'm hoping my literary skills have increased. Please do enjoy. Lots of love xo]

Why did we, as humans, feel the need to consume the earth? Why do most believe our calloused fingertips were created to grip, and clutch, and control. Why are some of us prone to obeying, and others, not?

Niragi shifts his shoulder, and the rifle brushes the clothed skin of his bicep. His brows furrow, and knit with a wire of concern, but mainly, uncertainty.

Niragi orders, and he instructs. He would never follow. He's higher on the ladder of obedience, consuming all beneath him. He hitches, and tenses. "What the hell is this?" He curses. There's an unattractive scowl upon his parted lips.

Chishiya lowers his head, repressing his smirk. He was knowingly aware, all of the time, and it had frustrated me. How it must feel to never be caught off-guard?

The screens were lightening, and the words scrawled along them began to flicker. It was no longer a matter of seconds, the game was beginning, and now. Kuina neared me, her shoulder couldn't have brushed mine. She was at least a head taller than me, and I had to tilt my chin to catch the way her unlit cigarette had pressed, cautiously, along her pursed lips. She was focused, but unsure. The air had thickened with an unfamiliar silence.

Her eyes darkened. I stole a glance toward Arisu, and Usagi. Theirs had too. Arisu was thinking, hard. The cogs spurring before a game had even been established.

"Game title." The female voice was mechanical, as always. "Simon Says." Completely devoid of emotion, monochromatic sentences strung across the screen. "Rules." She began. I could hear the spur of breaths, deepening, quickening. Some slowing, others hitching. Others ceasing, as if they had mentally pulled the plug on themselves. Kuina was stagnant. Her fingertips pressed along the faux cigarette, and she rolled her thumb, and forefinger patiently. She had barely brought her lashes down into a blink. Niragi was unamused. I could only infer what he had been doing before the speakers had begun. Flashes of static had rounded the sheep of the beach. The population all eyes, and ears. Excitement, and uncertain fear.

Chishiya's lips had rose smoothly. I swallowed drily, in return. It was almost frightening how nonchalantly he slid his fisted palms into his pockets, and rested his clothed spine, and head along a nearby pillar. His chest lifted, and fell softly. There wasn't a sign of distress, or anxiety, not within his stance, or the light flecks within his searching eyes.

"To pass this game, one must obey the screen's orders. Each specified amount of minutes, the screen will have a new rule for the participants to follow. Failure to do so will result in the player being disqualified."

I had audibly released a long-held sigh. My shoulders relaxed, softly slumping. It wasn't so bad. Obey, really, and that's all. The only hint of difficulty would be for the lions, and tigers of this food chain. Niragi, I hummed, Aguni, too.

"The first rule will be displayed shortly."

The screen flickered. I wrapped my arms over my waist, my fingertips digging, deep, into the dents of my ribs, and leaving reddened, crescent-shaped marks. Chishiya was eyeing me, curiously, but I had refused to give in, and lock eyes. I swallowed, again, and strained my stare, until my irises burnt, and stung, as if there were rogue flames flittering from the screens.

"Simon Says, make the area around you empty of participants."

The silence faltered, and fragmented quickly. Shattering, as if our focus was a china plate, and the screen was a rampant bull. "What does that even mean?" Someone called to her peers. "You have five minutes to follow this rule."

She shrieked, lightly. Her eyes wide, and doe, like an animal in brightened headlights. She stilled, and the man beside her clasped her shoulder, and shook her. "What does it mean?" He was both frustrated, and urgent. Spit coating his chapped lips.

"It means you're all dead, fuckers!" Niragi snorted, raising his rifle from his shoulder, and aiming the tip toward the ceiling. He shot once, and then twice, until his prey had begun to scatter, and shuffle about each other like pigeons rushing from a nearing car. He slung the weapon forward, and took aim. Ruthlessly letting the sharp tips of his bullets become blood-stained, as they embedded themselves into the bare flesh of his victims.

I cursed beneath my quickening breath. Niragi had knocked at least twelve residents to the floor, and the remaining participants had either fled, or had begun slaughtering those surrounding them, as Niragi had implied would be the meaning attached to the rule.

Kuina was long-gone. Arisu, and Usagi, and Chishiya, too. I thought deeply, and began to raise my pace. I neared a pillar, and rounded it cautiously. Slipping through entwined bodies, pushing past the shoulders of injured players. Sweat, and blood, and possibly tears had coated the skin of my palms. I winced. Brushing them along the lower cloth of my swimsuit. I was inside, now, and the screams had been muffled by thick, concrete walls. They faded, softly, yet not so softly. It was eerily quiet, and desolate, as my aching soles brushed the carpet beneath me. I slowed to a still. Stagnant. Chasing after my own, spent breath.

"Time is up." The voice radiated, like heat, throughout the architecture. I dared soften my features, and the tensing muscles of my calves. I leant along a wall, the plaster chipped, and leaving eggshell pieces against the small of my back. "Congratulations, to those who have survived."

I had figured, really, quite early on, that the rule was simple. The corridor was empty, and I was safe. Easy. These games had always urged for violence, through leading the participants in a false direction, but those who knew, knew that these types were often overcome easily, with no need for death. The remaining participants had conformed, wrongly.

"Your next rule: Simon Says, engage in sexual intercourse with the first person you see. You have ten minutes to find a partner. Failure to do so, and failure to begin initiating sexual intercourse within this time limit will lead to your disqualification."

My brows arched, and my features had become sharp, and thinly layered with sweat. It was an odd rule for this game, and for any game, really, but I had no time to ponder. I had to obey, whether it stretched my moral grounds, or my boundaries. I had to live, and dying for the reason of not wanting to have sex would be an embarrassing way out.

I sighed, and began to walk. Slowly, at first, as if I were hesitant. I picked at my cuticles, and lightly chewed my lower lip, as I searched the upper floor. I was both curious, and afraid of who I may come across first, and had pleaded, with all the strength my limbs could give, that it wouldn't be Niragi. I wasn't sure if I did, truly, have someone in mind. Out of the residents here, who would I fuck? That's an outrageous question to think over. My vision was blurred, and my head fogged. I couldn't begin to think, even if I had wanted to.

"Interesting."

"What?" I inhaled, sharply. My lungs felt as though they were two sizes too small for the oxygen I needed to consume. I winced at the ache, and turned, cautiously, on the heel of my foot.

"Chishiya?" I swallowed a breath. I searched him, traced his features, and scanned up, and down his stance. He perked a brow. His smirk was soft, but smug. His head fell, ever so slightly, to the side as he spoke. "What a nice surprise, hm?"

He was quiet, but amused. Repressing the urge to chuckle through his nostrils. His palms were hidden, comforted by thick cotton. He blinked, slowly, peering at me through his thick, dark lashes.

My limbs were red-hot, and pulsing. My stomach knotted, over, and over, and then wringed itself out like a dirty, damp dishcloth.

"Do you want us both to die?" He questioned, after a few seconds of silence. I swallowed, and shook my head, quietly. "Why would I? That's silly."

His lip quirked higher. "What's truly silly is that you're wasting time, when you could be having sex with me."

He was smug with the reaction. My cheeks heating. Tinted a faded red. My lips parted, only for silence to ensue. I was stilled. Thoroughly shaken by his careless words. Lazy, but sexual. Chishiya was never sexual. My heart quickened its pace, beating roughly against my ribs. They felt as though they were closing in, and shrinking. Squeezing my organs, tightly.

He clicked the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and neared me. His hands still encased within the cloth of his pockets. I remained stagnant, until his shoulder met mine. They brushed, and his head dipped low. The stray strands of his hair, that had fell from within his hood, were feathery, and light along my jaw. His breath was warm. Gentle across my cheek, and the shell of my red-tinted ear. "Would you rather me initiate?"

I'm certain he was well aware of the answer. He was toying with me, though. Urging the return from between my lips. My lower stomach tightened. He hummed, questioningly. My knees had threatened to buckle, lightly shaking, as I ran my tongue along my lips. He wanted to see how far he could push me, taunt me, tease me. "If you're really so desperate, Chishiya?" I smiled, coyly, tilting my chin upward, and twisted to the side. My eyes met his, irises dilating beneath my lashes. His smirk had only become more enticing. Stretched softly across his cheeks. His eyes were lazily flickering between mine. Searching, searching. He was amused, his utmost interest had been piqued.

"Didn't think you'd like this sort of thing, Chishiya." His name rolled alluringly from the tip of my tongue. His brow twitched. "Hm. Is that so?" He dragged. "What made you think such a thing, Y/n?" He returned, within the same manner. My name a low, tempting whisper. I watched his full lips form the sentences, absent-mindedly wetting my own. He was following me, carefully. Matching the behaviour I had allowed him to see.

He tilted forward, ever so slightly, his lips parting. It was subtle. My jaw ticked. "Let's take this somewhere private. I'd much prefer if we weren't interrupted."

For a second, I was expecting him to kiss me, and I'm sure he had read the belief, as if I were an open book. He smirked harder, if that could have been possible. "We can't waste time kissing, unfortunately." He watched me, closely. His stare hardening. The words had left his lips so sincerely, I couldn't help but startle, and choke on the breath I had been gathering. "We have five minutes, and I have to be inside of you for the initiation to count."

Was this truly happening? My brain was static. He raised a palm, and waved it, side to side, before my blank expression. "Have you turned off?" He teased. "I was hoping for the opposite."

"No, no." I shook my head, and swallowed. Straightening my spine, and composing myself. This is life or death, Y/n.

We were quick, or as quick as Chishiya could be. He was nonchalant, too careless to truly be affected by the entire premise of this sex, and violence fuelled game. I was nervous, on the other end. Cursing at myself for not having had any liquid courage before the screens had fell. I was itching at my wrist, and making the bones within my fingers click. Trailing the tip of my tongue along my inner cheek, and chewing on the skin of my lower lip.

He was beneath me now; on the bed of a resident, I could only assume had been slaughtered. His head was leant along the wooden bedframe, his upper body was propped up, by his clothed elbows being buried within the mattress. His fingers raised, and wrapped lightly around the rim of his hood. His chin dipped, and then raised, as the cloth fell along his tousled hair. "Do you want to stop, now?" He questioned, as he watched me, still, rested on his hips. My thighs either side of him, caging his clothed pelvis. "No, I want you." I returned, confidently. My breath faltered, when his brow had flickered upward. "I never asked if you had wanted me, Y/n." He was being cocky, now. Smirk edging along his lips, silently. His features were soft, no sharpened lines, or angles. He was gorgeous beneath this dim light. Eyes dark, and lidded, lips wet, and full. Beneath me.

I smiled, smugly. "Don't be cocky, Chishiya." He sent me an amused look. "Didn't think you were the type to be a pillow prince." I teased, regaining myself. I shuffled forward, pressing my heat down, between his parted legs. He hadn't reacted, though the muscles within his thighs had tensed. His head fell softly, with a light thump. "Ah, you're switching the subject, Y/n."

His palms were fished from his pockets, half-heartedly, and hung themself over the skin of my hips, like loose cloth. His grip wasn't tight. His fingertips feathery, as he rolled his thumb across the exposed flesh, dipping beneath the thin fabric of the swimsuit.

"Just ride me." He spoke, far from affected by the lewd sexuality of his request. The words should have been desperate, but he had uttered them so listlessly. He was languid, as he squeezed my upper thigh with his cupped palms, pulling the thin strip of fabric from my hips with his curled fingers.

I bucked forward, subtly. Pushing my clothed, aching clit along the slowly forming bulge. I could feel it, now. His cock, beneath his swim shorts, pulsing beneath me. It was heated, where I was settled on his crotch. His shorts had been filled well, tightening each time I had slid my hips forward, teasingly.

I raised myself, and he slid the remaining cloth down my thigh, gently brushing them as he did so. He squeezed, lightly, cupping the thick flesh. I could see his bulge, now. The outline. My breath hitched, clit swollen, and desperate. He knew, of course he knew. He was smug with what he had done to me. He smiled, in a self-satisfied way.

He watched me, carefully, eyes never threatening to leave my own, as he led his palm beneath his shorts, and held himself. His grip tightened, and then he pulled himself from beneath the cloth. He was watching curiously, now, smirk stretching. He wanted to see my features contort. Wanted to see how I had reacted to his cock, hardening further, in his hand. He was above average, only slightly, but enough for the saliva to build within my cheeks, and my tongue. I swallowed, as if his cock was already stuffing my jaws, and his cum was dripping down my throat. I shamelessly clenched around the thin air, resisting the urge to buck forward, and violate the oxygen particles surrounding us.

"You're not hiding much, Y/n." He speaks, lowly, lifting his cupped palm, excruciatingly slow along his shaft. The tip of his thumb pressed along his slit, and rolled softly, collecting the loose drips of pre-cum. "You really do want me, don't you?"

My eyes drop, unable to hold his stern, yet taunting stare. He sighs, exhales, quietly. "Don't just watch me."

He drops his arm, and his empty fingers find solitude within his pockets, once more. His cock is standing, and curved toward his abdomen. Neglected, yet prepared to be buried deep inside of you. Chishiya watched, blinking slowly. Lethargically. Of course, he isn't the type to take the majority of the action. I push a breathy whimper down the tightening confines of my throat, as he holds the base of his cock with one palm, and steadies himself. Allowing me to sink onto his cock, his swollen, leaking tip spreading me wide, and then wider, as I had sunk further down his shaft.

He was stretching me. Stagnant, his hips remained low. It ached, and stung, yet the displeasure was temporary. I was quickly reminded of how deep the man beneath me was, inside of me. His cock sucked, tight, between my walls. I clenched, and he twitched. I could only imagine his fists were balling up within his pockets. My own, were clutching the fabric of his hoodie between my fingertips. He smirked, knowingly. "This isn't about the game, is it, Y/n?" He questioned, softly, watching lazily, as I had begun lifting, and dropping myself down on him.

"What." I breathed, shakily. My clutch tightened. His cock slid, so effortlessly, plunging back inside of me, each time I had sunk down, after lingering with his tip between my folds. It was an attempt to tease him. Drag a whimper from between his cockily parted, dampened lips.

"It's not about the life, or death here." He expanded, searching me, with a glint of pride within his darkened irises. "The way you're using me to satisfy you so desperately. It's genuine."

I scoff, with the little breath I had within my expanding, and shrinking lungs. My chest heaved, with each bounce. "You think I want to fuck you?"

He was quiet, but had a knowing look across his features.

"No, no. I'm doing this so I don't die." I argue between ragged breaths. It was difficult to think straight, and to reply coherently, when he was stuffing me so well. So, so full. He pulsed inside of me, my walls tightening around his cock as he dipped, in, and out, in, and out. My lower lip slid between my teeth. My eyes rolling beneath my eyelids.

Chishiya smirked to himself, tilting his chin backward, as his blinking faltered, and his lashes fluttered. He raised his hips upward, in a way, as if he were repositioning himself. No moan, no whimper, no grunt, or groan. If you had listened closely, you could hear his breath pick up pace, but that was all. The exposed part of his smooth chest raised, softly. Falling, quickly. The zipper struggled against his expanding lungs, and dipped downward, revealing his chest, even more.

He was so unbothered, even as he had me slamming down on his balls, sucking his entire cock between my plush, clenching walls. I dropped harder, and faster, drawing a slight breath from between his lips. Relieved, and satisfied. His dampened palms left his pockets, and drew softly, up, and down the heated skin of my waist. I hummed, biting back a surfacing moan.

He sighed. "I saw you walk upstairs, and into the third corridor, before the second rule had begun." He was watching me, contentedly, as if were expecting something from me. A reaction, or an answer. My brain was misted, and fogged, like the windows would surely be if we were in a car, right now.

I furrowed my brows, a sensation circling my lower stomach, like a sneeze preparing on the tip of my tongue.

"You..." I swallowed. "You knew where I was?"

He lowered his head, a lethargic nod. He was smirking, still, and searching me, expectantly.

"S...so..." I stammered, racking the mess of my brain, like my IQ had been rearranged, just as my guts were being. I was almost slurring, his cock drawing a drunk effect on my mind.

He didn't correct me, or urge me, or return. He simply laid back, thumbs tracing the dips within my hip. Gladly appreciating the heat, and pleasure I had given him. His eyes had dipped, for the first time tonight, lightly flittering over the outline of his cock in my lower stomach. Pride.

I was left to infer. He had known where I was, before the second rule had begun. He had bumped into me, or had he? Had he found me, knowingly. My eyes lit, and caught his gaze, once more. My lips parted. His lips rose.

He wanted to find me.

"You wanted to find me?" I questioned, falteringly. The ball in my stomach was knotting tighter, and was prepared to be undone. He lifted himself, once, twice. Effortless. Angling himself, so that the tip of his cock had pressed the deepest it had been, brushing my g-spot. Teasing an orgasm with each listless stroke. He was breathing harder, now, head brushing the wooden frame, and focused, entirely on drawing an orgasm from deep inside of me. I was slack-jawed, muscles tensing. My eyes were lured to the back of my head. His hair was messy, his lips parted, his eyes half-lidded. Cheeks a faded red, the smooth expanse of his revealed chest shiny with a thin sheen of sweat.

The air was thick with tension, but quiet, bar the breathing, the soft whimpers, low groans, and slapping, dampened skin.

"Chish...Chishiya." I moaned, loudly. Eyes screwing shut, as the ball in my stomach loosened, and each, and every muscle and limb I had possessed tensed, and pulsed with rushing blood. My walls squeezed the girth of his cock, as he slid back inside of me, luring a deep, breathy groan from the man beneath me. His eyes closed, and his brows furrowed sharply, his lips parting, yet his jaw was loose. He even looked calm, and unaffected during his orgasm.

I watched in awe, breathless. Unable to string any two words together, but I was certain he was able to. He swallowed, eyes drifting to the far corner, before tracing my features. "I found you, on purpose." He spoke. No stutter, or stammer, or slur. I blinked. My lips still parted; I was sure to be catching flies.

He inhaled, and exhaled, accordingly. "You were the first person I could think of that I wouldn't have minded doing this with." His head had fallen to the side, his hair dropping to frame his jaw. He smirked. "Thanks, I guess?" I answered, uncertainly. I wasn't too sure whether he had just complimented me, or not.

He chuckled breathily, through his nostrils, chest jerking. "You can get off now."

"Oh...oh, right, yeah." I blinked back my daze, and lifted myself from his half-hard cock, and dropped myself, gently, beside him. The covers were pleasingly cool, in contrast to Chishiya's warm crotch, though I wouldn't have minded being above him longer.

He glanced at me knowingly. Reading me, as if there were printed black letters across my forehead.

If we survive this game, this won't be the last time he finds me above him. I know that, and he does, too. Almost, as if he yearns for it, just as much as I do.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland smut #smut #chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiyasbiscuits

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fanaticsnail · 25 days ago

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Countdown From Ten

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,000

Synopsis: Wire is adamant on starting the new year off with fireworks. If you'd have thought the type of fireworks he was wanting to burst into the new year was him edging you until the count down begins, you might've never agreed to it.

Themes: Wire x afab!reader, edging, orgasm denial, confessions, time skipping, mdni, NSFW, 18+, smut, P in V sex, oral, fingering, love confession, cream pie, size difference.

Notes: Happy new year! I loved writing this one, and adore Wire so much. I can't wait to write more for him coming into the new year.

Ten.

Your back arched off the bed as you felt your encumbering high reach ever nearer. One large, skilled hand reached over your belly to push you back down onto the bed, splayed over your flesh and engulfed your much smaller form beneath their palm and fingers. While the intensity of the world began to ebb away from the cusps of reality the closer you drew, his fingers hastily left your dripping cunt and gently tapped your thigh.

“Not yet.”

Nine.

You had made a grave mistake in front of your crew a few nights prior. When they had asked everyone if they had any regrets coming into the new year over a few pints, you should’ve remained quiet. Instead, the boldness in the burn of alcohol rid your body of inhibitions as you spoke up. While Heat had suggested he should’ve dedicated more time to learning how to swim, and Killer had said he desired to learn how to perfect the most delicious lasagne, your regret was far more personal.

“I wish I had orgasmed at least once this year.”

In lieu of an uproar of laughter that the others claimed from unearthing their wants, yours was met with a grave silence and a few empathetic clashes of tankards against your own.

“Not even once?”

“You took a few to bed over the past couple raids. Didn’t they make you cum?”

“There was all kinds of fun happening at the pleasure district last week. I know you were there, one of the employees took your hand and lead you up to the rooms. Not even them?”

“Are you sure?”

You answered all of their questions by simply gulping back your drink and placing the container upside down on the benchtop in front of you. Shaking your head, you gave a variety of answers ranging from: “They were selfish lovers,” to, “It was my fault. Made them cum too early and they were tired,” and, “I don’t actually think I even can cum anymore,” or, “I didn’t have time to touch myself at all between the fights, workload, and sailing to different islands. Can't even fuck myself.”

While three of the commanders listened to your plight while clicking their tongues and shaking their heads, another reacted a little differently.

Wire had other plans.

Eight.

A keening whine left your lips as your clit quivered in sorrow. You had been so close to eruption that you felt the tingles lingering beneath your skin and your toes curling in annoyance. With a few quick motions, you thumped your head back against the pillow behind you.

“Wire, please!” you called while clawing at the hand on your belly holding you down. A warm chuckle fled from his lips as he gently carved intricate circles into your skin by the caress of your thigh.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he gently chastised you before leaning forward towards your glistening cunt, “Just hold out a little longer. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Seven.

After finishing his drink at the table and watching as you drew Quincy onto the dance floor, the cogs began to tip behind his eyes. A new bar, a new day, a new raid that ended in victory by the skilled labors of the Kid Pirate crew - yet, Wire sat stewing in his mind while fermenting the many possibilities on how to repair one wrong he would see righted.

“What’s got you all up in a tizzy, man?” Heat asked as he slumped into the chair beside Wire. Wire recoiled and looked down at his shorter friend with perplexion over his face.

“Firstly, ‘up in a tizzy’? Really?” He furrowed his brows and turned back towards the dance floor, “Secondly, not cumming for a year.”

“You still thinking about that?” Heat queeried as he gently nudged Wire’s shoulder with his own, “To be honest with you, so am I. A whole year? Nothing? No…?” He gestured crudely with his hands a depiction of an eruption with his fingers demonstrating a hasty fling. “Must’ve found a few shit partners. Why not ask the crew for help?”

“I have a feeling the stupid saying: ‘don’t shit where you eat,’ has something to do with it,” Wire nodded, watching as Quincy wrapped her arms around you and drew you into a playful kiss. You reciprocated with a smile on your face, breaking away thereafter and laughed with her. “Quincy could do something about that expression, or I could take matters into my own hands.”

"Oh?” Heat quirked up his brow in interest, “Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d get sweet on someone. Not gonna let Quincy do her thing?”

Wire stood without a further word, giving a pointed stare at one of his oldest friends, and turned to make his way towards you as a few hours were left on the countdown clock. Taking your hand in his own, he led you away from Quincy towards the upper rooms of the tavern you’d claimed as loot.

Six.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered as he drew his face towards your pussy. His lips curled up into a smile and indulged in flicking a fat stipe against your dripping slit to your clit. He hummed enthusiastically as he latched onto your pearled bud and sucked on it. Each motion was him mouthing and indulging in his every fluid momentum. He was romancing your pussy with his motions, his eyes meeting yours as he felt the call of your bliss reach the cusps of ecstasy.

Reaching behind his head and grasping a heaved fistful of his salt and peppered hair, tugging him both into you and away from you to grind your body against his assaulting lips. Wire muffled a soft, “nuh uh,” sound into your body and removed his face from your pussy immediately.

“Just a little longer, and I promise it’ll be worth it,” he offered sympathetically, “You’ve waited so long. Surely you can handle just a moment longer?”

“Wire-!”

Five.

Drawing you up the stairs to the rooms they’d acquired with minimal effort was likely the longest walk of Wire’s life. What was he to say to you? “Hi, honey. I feel so bad about the thing you disclosed to me a week ago and want to fix that for you? I want to make you feel so good, cum so hard, and force you into the cusps of overstimulation until every fibre of your being feels nothing but pleasure?”

Not a chance.

Formulating a conversation internally as to how to bring it up himself, he was broken out of his looping mind by a small squeeze against his hand. Closing the door to the room behind you both, you gently latched the door closed and flicked the lock switch into the iron fastening.

“You alright, commander?” you asked softly before turning to meet his eyes with your own, “I’m not in any trouble am I? I didn’t do anything I wasn’t supposed to-?”

“-No! I, uh, I mean… No. You didn’t, honey. I just,” Wire stumbled over his words, releasing your hand in favour of withdrawing his hood and ruffling his hair, “I was just thinking about what you said the other day when we were all talking about the regrets.”

“Oh.”

Four.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you keened for him as he added a thick finger to your center and hooking it up to grind against your g-spot. Your eyelashes fluttered as your glossy lenses began to tear up over your lashline.

“That’s it, honey,” He praised you as he used his larger hand as an anchor to draw down your waist and press your ass back into the bed. “I’ve got you. You just wait on that edge, and I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good. Just hold on.”

Three.

“You said you hadn’t cum all year,” Wire clarified with you as he unfastened his cloak from his shoulders and rolled the joints back to remove the weighted material, “Did you mean it?”

Shock eclipsed your face as your lips drew slack. Wire followed your vision from your eyes to his bare shoulders now unshrouded by the tarp he usually wears to shield it. His own eyes drew wide as he stumbled over his words once more.

“No, no, no, no, I, uh, I mean-,” he waved his hands to halt any thoughts that you may have felt regarding his disrobing in place, “It’s fucking stuffy in here, and I didn’t want the damn cloak on. I’m not meaning anything by it, I swear.”

Your laughter erupted through your lips immediately, prompting Wire to do the same. You hadn’t even thought about the initial conversation earlier in the week. Nothing about it passed your mind due to how much fun you were having with your crewmates in the few days before the new year.

“I don’t mind, Wire. Truly, I don’t,” you nodded while teetering off your laughter, “I honestly thought you guys would let it slide-, pass it off, even.” You shrugged nonchalantly while you moved to the other side of the room. A jug of water and a few glasses decorated the space, and you elected to pour two: one for Wire before one of your own as respect for his rank.

You handed the glass to him and took the other for yourself. Both taking small drinks from your respective glassware, you spoke up to verbalise your woes.

“I don’t want or need your sympathy, commander,” you nod while looking down into your glass. “It was my own fault. I made a whole heap of shitty decisions, didn’t enjoy a few of the consequences, and I can live without cumming-.”

Two.

“-You’re gonna make me cum!” you whined before he halted all motion and removed his hands and tongue from your core. You mourned the loss of his attention before he replaced the hand clawing bliss from your center with his blunt cockhead. The small stretch took the wind out of your body as he pushed on in. Inch by inch he drew himself down into your smaller frame as he bit back his own groans of gasping pleasure.

He was thick, girthy, and made you feel fuller than you had in your entire life. The size difference between his nine foot frame and your smaller stature was adamant, but all of the earlier edging paid off as your cunt sucked him in.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he whispered softly as he sunk himself down to the hilt. With his entire length now inside your walls and dragging against your walls. “You’re squeezing me so tight, honey. Fuck me.” A release of stringed, babbling curses fled his lips as he shallowly thrust inside you.

Reaching down his hand to caress your face, he smoothed back skin and gently rubbed the pad of his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

“How are you feeling about it all?” he asked you while he gently rocked in and out of your hot, slick, cunt. “Too much, not enough, not like this, with something else to make it better like this?” His questions lingered in the air as your eyes squeezed shut.

Each second that passed earlier had been almost a form of torture as you felt your orgasm fizz up, only to snuff out by the works of his lips, hands, and tongue. His cock had you feeling engulfed by his girth and stretched to your maximum capacity, but your body felt as if it would never reach the high it needed without him completely sheathed inside your cunt.

“Just like this, Wire.” You nodded up at him with your brows triangulating in the center of your forehead, “Please. Please, Wire? I need to cum. Please let me cum? I need you to make me cum. I can’t go another second without you inside me. Fuck me, Wire.”

Wire found a new rise of determination swell within his abdomen as he set a brutal pace fucking into your desperate heat. At each cruel and unforgiving ‘plap, plap, plap,’ of his hips meeting your own, a small gasped and choking moan would spill from your parted lips each time his hips would still.

“You’re being so patient, darling,” he praised you as he changed his position to cradle you up into his chest, “And you’re doing so well. This whole y-, fuck,” he rolled his eyes as he drew you up onto his lap. You straddled his hips and fucked yourself down desperately against his lap. Your clit brushed against his pelvis and neatly trimmed pubic hair, and your hands immediately drew themselves up onto his shoulders.

“F-Fu-huck,” you cried out desperately as your edge again called to you. “Please, can I cum? Please, Wire? Can I cum? Will you let me cum now? Please?” Your desperation was picked up in every hitching syllable of your crying lips. Wire could do nothing but to cradle you against him and feel the way your walls began to rhythmically contract and squeeze him to the capacity you could.

“Wait,” he gasped as he felt his own high ebb on the knife’s edge. He was so worked up from edging you for so long, he couldn’t let himself release before you had been given the chance to. The way your body felt made for him caused his brows to crease and eyes to squeeze tightly shut.

“Now.”

One.

“-I refuse to let your year start off without at least one orgasm under your belt, pardon the pun,” he chastised you firmly before rephrasing his ill-temper, “I mean, I… fuck. I’m sorry. Honey, we’re pirates. We sail, we drink - or some of us do, we fight, we fuck, and we cum. You… you deserve to cum.”

“Wire-,” you started, only for him to strike you down with a further warning.

“-I won’t have it. You said, and I quote: ‘I wish I had orgasmed at least once this year,’ am I right?” he asked you softly while stepping towards the altar where you drew water for you both, “To make myself completely clear as glass: I am propositioning you. I like you, honey,” he confessed so plainly it seemed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to you.

He gently raised his hand up to hover at your cheek, not yet bringing it to caress your skin and waiting for you to make a decision. Should you back out, he would leave you there to return to the party, or to sleep - both of which were more than viable options.

Or.

You were now given the chance to lay with your commander and experience being the central focus for a channel of lust. For too long had you laid back and endured the mediocre. For too long had you done all of the work for your partner to experience that encumbering high, only to roll over and slumber almost immediately. For too long had you journeyed with the Kid Pirates and withheld your feelings for the tallest commander in the hopes that they would die down and never rise once more.

But here he was, the man of your desires, offering himself to you in a way you had only ever dreamed of. He was willing to not only fuck you, but make you achieve the one thing you had long-since deprived yourself of.

“I… I like you too, Wire,” you gasped softly while leaning into his palm with your cheek. You closed your eyes on impact and felt the emotions begin to trickle over the edge in every breath. Wire gasped as your head met his hand, a small moan fled his lips as he gazed upon you with nothing but longing and love. Lust lingered below the depths of his persona, but his love was adamant.

“When do you want to do this?” he asked you while thumbing over your cheek and leaning in closer. His lips gently brushed its borders against your own, tasting the breath he longed to share with every soft touch.

“Now.”

Happy New Year.

Pleasure crested in your chest as the encumbering heat bloomed in your abdomen. The long wait and long edge finally met your body with an eruption you had not anticipated. As he denied each orgasm he called you to earlier, a longer and more substantial release atop your lover’s lap.

“Hhah-, fuck, m’cumm-ming-!” you slurred and babbled amongst your moans and whimpers. Your pussy throbbed and rhythmically squeezed Wire’s shaft in hot pulses as your release finally engulfed your senses. Wire continued to fuck you through it, keeping the pace steady as his own pleasure mounted inside your heat.

“Sh-Shit, I-I-,” Wire began as he felt your cunt continued to contract around him and milk him of his precum into his own high. “Fuck,” he called out a breathy exhale of your name as he shot his release deep inside your body.

Cheers and hollers ricocheted from the group on the lower grounds of the occupied tavern as the crude slapping of your hips meeting his continued to clap against one another. Your high seemed never ending as his own fucked itself deep inside your body and punctuating every babbled word with its intensity.

Your breaths caught one another as you came down from your crashing highs and riding the few lingering waves in the arms of one another. His cruel motions moved into rocks for comfort of both you and himself. His cum begun to spill out of your pussy and form a creamy ring around his cock as he kept you on top of him.

“I… I, uh,” Wire halted in favor of a small chuckle, “I wasn’t going to allow myself to cum, you know? This was meant to be about you, honey.” You laugh alongside him as you nuzzle into his chest and brace his larger torso against your face. You whimpered into his touch while feeling his firm cock begin to deflate the longer the moments passed between you both.

“I am glad you did. No way we both can’t start our year by cumming into it,” you smiled, only to sigh deeply into the way his heartbeat thumped against your ear. Your inhales and exhales were in perfect unity as your bodies still fit together as one. The sentimentality took you as you moved your head to gaze up into his eyes.

“Happy new year,” you whispered in barely a breath. His lips found yours and hovered in his own response before claiming you entirely with a passionate and heated kiss to shepherd you into the new era.

“Happy new year.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

#one piece #x reader #wire #op wire #wire x reader #x afab!reader #one piece smut #kid pirate smut #my writing #wire x reader smut #i love writing for this taller man

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kitasuno · 7 months ago

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( ᐢ..ᐢ )⋆.ೃ࿔*･ thank u guys for all the love on my writing recently <3 there is nothing i love more than reading ur comments and reblogs !! tysm !!!!!!

anonymous asks are now open too. i swear i had them on but i just figured out my inbox today!

i thought i would share some brain rot i still have from my last suna fic, to be loved is to be known:

in the fic, suna was so surprised when you mentioned that atsumu gave you the courage to confess to kita because… atsumu was his #1 wingman!!!!

he’s definitely not stupid, and also very aware of reading people (or maybe just reading you) but all his common sense flies out the window when u mention liking kita

but when u bring up atsumu… the little suna brain-cells in his head REVIVE. fucking EXPLODE and his cogs start to turn.. and he’s like… wait a minute….

i mentioned that suna smells like blackberries and i was specifically thinking about the blackberry and bay cologne from jo malone! here are the notes from the official website:

Childhood memories of blackberry picking...A burst of deep, tart blackberry juice, blending with the freshness of just-gathered bay and brambly woods. Vibrant and verdant

(it smells so good btw. trust. trust me. suna smells delicious. i swear)

suna doesn’t mind little spooning

mobile gaming degenerate. twitter degenerate. likes wearing slides out and oversized zip up hoodies, he finds regular hoodies kind of annoying

suna reminds me of the song, fukakoryoku by vaundy

still uses wired apple headphones 4 the aesthetic

yes the family mart that suna and you frequent is in the middle ground to ur houses… yes he likes famichiki… no he doesn’t like the sausages but you’re obsessed with them so he says he loves them

idk if u guys know but family mart on twitter has these giveaways where if you retweet their post you have the chance to win a coupon or a free snack/food. and they choose like 10,000 people for winners! so when family mart drops a chance to win free sausages… suna makes.. 100 twitter accounts… to join the giveaway…. (yes this means 100 emails) (yes he is crazy) (yes he is free)

and yes ur on his private twitter. and suna private tweets about YOU on his PRIV bcuz he’s a LITTLE SHIT. so when u check ur phone after he confesses to U and u had lied and said u liked kita he does the whole Going Dark thing on twitter. tweets shit like this and thinks it’s so funny:

thank u guys again for indulging in my writing<3

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hbdttg · 2 years ago

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“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

#stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #modern office au #corporate steddie au #eddie's in IT #HHH is a commercial real estate firm #but steve's not a hotshot broker he's literally just a guy who makes copies all day or some shit #i personally just want to see all of eddie's baseless assumptions shattered as he gets to know steve #fic writing #hbd #actually i've never read a corporate steddie fic before so if anyone has any recs i'd love to hear them

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dewdropdinosaur · 10 months ago

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Fixer Upper

ALASTOR x (F)READER Summary: Someone dared to break Alastor's precious radio and his wrath is inconsolable. But turns out you may have some small tricks up your sleeve. Warnings: NONE For the dearest @anon-of-the-void. My darling, it is a pleasure as always to write these for you.

In the bustling chaos of the Hazbin Hotel, where demons sought redemption amidst the fiery chaos of Hell, an unlikely friendship blossomed. Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, found solace in the presence of Y/N, an inventive soul from the Victorian Era who had found herself amidst the peculiar denizens of the underworld.

Y/N was a tinkerer, always tinkering away in her workshop, concocting gadgets and gizmos that would make even the most adept engineers marvel. Alastor, with his vintage charm and macabre wit, found her creations fascinating, and the two formed an unusual bond over their shared love for innovation.

One fateful day, disaster struck when Alastor's beloved old-time radio, his prized possession from his living days, broke down. The demon was devastated, his usual jovial demeanor clouded by a rare display of anger. The residents of the hotel trembled in fear, knowing the havoc that could be unleashed if the Radio Demon's rage remained unchecked.

Alastor's crimson eyes blazed with fury as he prowled the halls of the Hazbin Hotel, his usual jovial smile replaced by a menacing snarl. The residents cowered in fear, whispering among themselves as they caught glimpses of the Radio Demon's wrathful form.

"You there!" Alastor's voice boomed, sending shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. "Do you have any idea of the inconvenience of my beloved radio breaking? The nerve, the audacity!"

Niffty, the hyperactive cleaner demon, spoke with a frantic passion as she viewed the mangled radio."Alastor! I'll do it! Let me clean it please!"

Alastor's laughter rang out like a chilling melody, sending a chill through the air. "Oh, my dear Nifty, no thank you. This requires some…interrogation but feel free to clean up the aftermath."

Angel Dust, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, scoffed, "Oh, lighten up, Al, it's just a stupid radio. Besides, it's not like anyone listens to your old-timey tunes anyway."

The room fell silent as Alastor's gaze bore into Angel Dust, his smile twisting into a sinister grin. "Is that so, my dear Angel? Perhaps I should demonstrate the consequences of underestimating the power of music."

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned a spectral microphone, its ethereal glow casting eerie shadows across the room. "Now, let's see who's laughing when I unleash the full force of my wrath upon this wretched offender!"

The residents of the Hazbin Hotel trembled as Alastor's menacing laughter echoed through the halls, knowing all too well that when the Radio Demon was in a foul mood, no one was safe from his terrifying fury.

As fear spread throughout the hotel, Y/N knew she had to act swiftly to quell the storm brewing within Alastor's heart. Ignoring the warnings of her peers, she clandestinely snatched the broken radio and retreated to her workshop, determined to restore it to its former glory.Under the cover of night, she stealthily crept into Alastor's room, her pockets filled with tools and determination. With deft hands, she dismantled the broken radio, each cog and wire familiar to her skilled touch.

Hour after hour, Y/N toiled away, her nimble fingers dancing across the delicate machinery. With each adjustment and tweak, the radio gradually came back to life, its familiar crackle filling the air once more. But as the night wore on, fatigue gnawed at Y/N's bones, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. But she pressed on, fueled by determination and a desire to see her friend smile once more.

Finally, with a soft click, the radio sprang to life, emitting a crackling sound before filling the room with the familiar strains of vintage jazz. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she admired her handiwork.

But as she stood there basking in her success, fatigue finally caught up with her. With a yawn, she sank into a nearby chair, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed her.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor had been silently watching from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he observed Y/N's tireless efforts to fix his broken radio. When he saw her succumb to exhaustion, a pang of concern tugged at his heart, softening the edges of his usually stoic demeanor.

Quietly, he approached her slumbering form, his footsteps barely audible against the creaking floorboards. Gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch light as a feather.

"My dear Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "Such devotion, such selflessness. You truly are a marvel."

A warmth blossomed in Alastor's chest as he watched her sleep, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words. For the first time in centuries, he felt something akin to tenderness stirring within him—a feeling he realized with a start was nothing short of admiration.

With a soft sigh, Alastor leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead before picking up her form and striding over to his bed; tucking her in with the utmost care. As he stood there in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the quiet hum of the fixed radio and the soft breathing of his friend, he knew at that moment that he was irrevocably touched by her kindness.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky, Alastor silently vowed to cherish and protect Y/N, for she had not only fixed his broken radio but had also managed to mend something far more precious—his wounded heart.

The next morning dawned upon the Hazbin Hotel, the air tinged with a sense of relief as the residents basked in the knowledge that Alastor's beloved radio had been fixed. Alastor strode into the lobby with a confident swagger, his usual grin plastered on his face. With a flick of his wrist, he turned on the radio, the familiar crackle of static filling the air before giving way to the melodic strains of love songs from a bygone era.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident as they listened to the unexpected playlist. Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling a bit sentimental today."

Alastor's grin widened, though there was a hint of something softer lurking beneath the surface. "Ah, my dear Angel, music has a way of stirring the soul, don't you think?"

As the love songs continued to play, the other residents couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over them. Even the gruffest demons found themselves tapping their claws to the beat, caught up in the unexpected romance of it all.

But as Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, who stood among the crowd with a shy smile, a wave of realization washed over him. It wasn't just any love songs he was playing—it was a silent declaration of his growing affection for the inventive soul who had captured his heart.

And as the music filled the room with its sweet melody, Alastor couldn't help but feel a surge of hope coursing through him. Perhaps, in the midst of Hell's chaos, there was still room for love to blossom—a love that transcended time and defied all odds.

With a soft chuckle, Alastor stole a glance at Y/N, his heart swelling with newfound courage. For in that moment, amidst the gentle strains of love songs and the soft glow of morning light, he knew that he was falling—falling head over heels for the one who had fixed not only his broken radio but also the shattered pieces of his soul.

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