#cw setting someone on fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sleepymarimo · 1 year ago

Text

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece fluff

11K notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 10 months ago

Text

you asked me to stay. [Not yet].

PAIRING! idol!bangchan x reader

SUMMARY: even if idols 'don’t date fans', there are no rules against a little bit of teasing, and so it happens that Mr Bang Chan here really likes your kind of thinking.

WC: 4.1k

CW: starts off fluffy, then angsty if you squint?, but develops into a (short but still) spicy NSFW. lol, the triangle of (fan)fiction! not gonna say anything else cause I don’t want to spoil it, teehee. Have fun! (I did!)

REQUESTED! here by my sweet 'n spicy baby @sharonxdevi, hope you like my take on it! <3

A/N: wanted to pop down here as a reminder that just because the setting is a fan meeting and yada yada, this work is still unrelated to Channie as an idol. now, please keep reading! I really like how this one turned out 🤭

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

He's so sweet.

You kept giggling and blushing like an idiot, but how couldn't you? The Christopher Bang was right before you, smiling and laughing at the lame jokes you blabbered as a blush surely creeped out, your face a deep shade of a pinkish tone.

“Oh, and I wanted to mention that you look so amazing in your performances! You have me addicted, Chan.” You giggled.

He chuckled, blushing lightly, raising a hand to his mouth, half covering it. “Really?”

You could melt at the sight of him.

“Yeah! I’ve watched all your fancams.” You nodded with enthusiasm.

His laughs turned louder, his ears red. “I feel so shy knowing someone as pretty as you watches me dance so much.”

…

You blinked, your eyes wide.

As what?

He cheeked his tongue, eyeing at you sheepishly.

Oh. So he knew what he was doing.

You smirked softly. Your change in attitude made him raise his eyebrows slightly.

“One minute.”

You eyed at the suited man that came to talk to Chan and smiled. He left back to his position, and you leaned closer to the idol.

“Just have to say, that tongue of yours?” You chuckled, and to him, it was one fo the most enticing sounds he had heard in a while. “Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want STAY to act up.”

There was a bubbly feeling in your stomach that only heightened when you watched his face displaying raw surprise.

You were about to combust in spontaneous fire because, well, you just flirted with an idol, a real famous one, that is, but then, he smirked, leaning even closer to you. You could feel his breath on the shell of your ear. His hand softly took yours, and your breath hitched as he snickered playfuly, making you feel a shiver travel down your spine.

“I’m thinking there are far more interesting places where I could keep it.” He grinned in a teasing tone, staring at your lips for a second, licking his own. “But I’m obedient. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you say so.” He stated lowly, his eyes locked on yours. …

Oh.

OH.

MY GOD.

He squeezed your hand, sitting back again. His face was covered by a shade of red, and he couldn’t exactly place what had taken over him.

For a moment, he bit his lip, wary of your reaction, considering you hadn’t so much as muttered anything, frozen in your place.

But then you chuckled, struggling to grasp what had just happened, and his whole body relaxed when you squeezed his hand too.

“Bet. You won’t.” You snickered, standing up, siren eyes staring down at him as you moved away, allowing the next person’s turn.

He winked at you as you left.

W-What had just happened?

Your mind felt fuzzy.

Had Bang Chan just done the triangle method on you?

Chan stared at your back before facing the person in front of him.

He could’ve sworn he had seen you before.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Chan grimaced at Hyunjin, sinking his head back on the pillow in his hotel room.

“Leave him alone, Jinnie.” Yongbok frowned slightly. “But I have to say. Not the smartest move, mate.”

Chan sighed in frustration. “I know, I know.”

And it was because he knew that he didn’t dare to say, but just thinking about you, he also knew for a fact that he wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again. Had he had the opportunity, maybe even more.

But idols don’t do that.

Because it is for a reason that idols don’t date fans. Marketing? 100%. Sure. But it also protected them from scandals and such. Or that’s what Chan liked to say to himself.

Felix felt a bit guilty. Chan had gotten scolded by almost all the members now, some who went more ballistic than others —like Hyunjin, who still was fuming, claiming that if Chan was going to do something forbidden, he could’ve said something better than that—, but he looked at the fellow Australian and stood up, laying his small hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The taller one stopped his rambling against Chan and his alleged lack of creativity regarding flirting, and his eyes softened, looking at Yongbok.

“Give the man a break.” Felix smiled softly. “He understands what he’s done. He’s a big boy. Right, Channie?”

The big boy lazily raised his hand from the bed, not moving his head from the pillow as he hummed and raised his thumb.

“This bitch—” Hyunjin started, threatening to throw a pillow at the older one, but Felix quickly pushed him away, taking him back to their room.

Finally alone after what seemed like a lifetime, Chan turned around, staring at the ceiling.

He covered his face with his hands.

Reckless. Stupid, reckless idiot.

It had to be past twelve when he got tired of waiting for sleep to get to him. That never happened anyways. So he stood up with a groan, yawning out of boredom, quickly fetching a jacket and heading to the elevators with slow steps.

He got in and slowly started to put on his beanie and his mask, which wouldn’t really make a difference if someone recognized him, still, it gave him some reassurance. But then, the elevator stopped barely two floors after he got in.

His whole body tensed up.

He recognized who stepped in, messy hair, funny slippers and padded jacket on.

He knew who that was, because he had been right.

He had seen you before.

“Oh.” You smiled, and he could tell by the small wrinkles in your eyes, because the bottom half of your face was hidden by the jacket’s high neck. “Good night.” You mumbled softly.

He nodded. He was afraid you’d recognize him. He was unsure of what to do himself —or if he should do anything—, he couldn’t even think of how you would react. And just the idea that you wouldn’t like seeing him there made him hide his face more in his dark mask, so instead, he fidgeted with his room card, not daring to look at you for too long.

“Trouble sleeping?” You pondered in a kind tone. He nodded again, and you smiled. He had to hold back the impulse of lowering your jacket just so he could see your bright features, the ones that had charmed him so much barely a couple of hours ago.

“Same here.” You muttered, and he could’ve sworn that your voice alone, warm and soothing, could singlehandedly lull him to sleep in a heartbeat. “Walking helps though, don’t you think?”

He, again, just managed to nod. But for some reason, your presence didn’t make him feel guilty for not talking. In the middle of the night nothing seemed to have any rules between you two and the four walls of the elevator.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?” You asked in a murmur.

It was the first time he shook his head no, vigorously so, and you blushed lightly, smiling.

“Good to know.” You grinned, chuckling softly. The elevator dinged, arriving to the last floor. Chan held back a frustrated groan, yearning to keep hearing your voice.

“Have a good night.” You smiled, but his hand softly took yours.

“Huh?” You muttered softly.

Chan struggled. Fuck, shit, fuck. He had done that completely out of reflex. He didn’t know what to say, and just scrathed the side of his face, staring at your linked hands.

He shook his head once more, asking you to stay.

To you, you already had the weird feeling that you knew him. But he touched your hand, and something from it felt shockingly familiar.

Now, you could’ve sworn you had seen him before.

“What is it?” You asked, your voice coated in something sweet, something that Chan suddenly wanted to taste. “Would you like to walk with me?”

He nodded eagerly. And you grinned sheepishly.

You two crossed through the hotel main’s hall nonchalantly, and Chan just followed you, intriegued that you hadn’t taken the main entrance door to exit.

“Trust me,” you muttered, smiling. He felt it was scary that he would, in a heartbeat. “The gardens are so much better.”

You took his hand. A motion completely out of reflex, that both of you only allowed yourselves to yearn for in silence.

You grinned at him, turning around, and his breath hitched, lips parted beneath his mask when he realized how close you were.

You opened a black door to your right with a soft push of your body.

The hotel gardens at night were like a dream. The moonlight turned everything into a soft, magical scene. Tall trees swayed quietly, and you could hear crickets and leaves rustling. There was a small lake below it, its water calm, that reflected the image above it like a mirror, moon and stars glistening on the clear surface.

Even if Chan was only looking at the glow through your eyes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You grinned.

You stared back at him. Something in his eyes reminded you of someone you knew. A peculiar someone, that is.

He hummed in agreement, and your smile widened.

“Shall we?” You giggled in a murmur, letting him step outside before you.

There was a warmth in the night that ushered Chan to take off his mask and hat.

But he didn’t dare to. Not yet.

You two walked alongside, hands and knuckles brushing against each other, and the idol allowed himself to grin as you smiled, looking at the flowers that decorated the place. It was the first time in his life that he had found solace in the shared silence of insomnia.

With a swift motion, he surrendered. He felt like it wasn’t fair to know who you where if you didn’t —or couldn’t— recognize him. To hell with it, he thought, taking his hat and mask off.

But, much to his surprise, you didn’t so much as glance at him. You just snickered when he sighed, sounding happier, breathing in the sudden cold breeze that swooshed in the garden.

“Better, huh?” You mumbled in light amusement.

He smiled, shoving his hidden identity in his pockets.

“Much.” Chan muttered.

His heart beat loudly on his ears. He could feel it pulsating rapidly, waiting for the moment where you would turn to face him.

But you weren’t, just strolling down the stone path, callously ignoring his nervous demeanour.

He was about to stop and move you, but instead, your hand took his again.

And then you squeezed it lightly. Much like he had done a couple of hourse ago.

His breath hitched. He stopped walking.

“Chan?” You smiled.

He felt chaos unravel inside him, his cheeks blushing, his palms getting sweaty, and his heart giddily beating in his chest.

Another rush of soft air crossed through the hotel’s gardens, making your hair move with it. He could smell your light scent, something that felt warm inside him, something that he felt could lull him asleep.

You grinned.

“Hi.”

He chuckled lowly. He hadn’t let go of your hand. A part of him didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Hi.”

He saw you blush under the moonlight, not knowing his red-tinted cheeks were more obvious than yours.

“What’s a boy as pretty as you doing in a place like this?”

…

He blinked, his eyes wide.

As what?

He saw you cheek your tongue, doe eyes looking at him teasingly.

Oh. So you knew what you were doing.

He chuckled, thinking that was going to be all your teasing.

“Judging by how long it took for you to talk, I guess you did mean to keep your end of the deal.”

“Huh?” He inquired softly.

“You know.” You bit your lip and blushed a bit more, making him more interested, taking a step towards you without realizing. “Keeping your mouth shut. Like the obedient boy you are.”

He started breathing heavily, a low laugh rolling off his tone.

“Oh, yeah?” His smirk was only powered by yours. “I must say, I can be quite rebellious.”

“Really?” You snickered, feeling his hand squeeze yours again.

“Very.” He gulped. His bravado only lasted for so much, and deep inside, he was equally scared as curious.

He wanted to keep going. He wanted you to stay.

“Are you trying to prove it?” You mocked cheekily.

He stared at your lips, his breath felt heavy. “Would you like me to prove it?”

His hand threatened to reach for your cheek, but it was you who finally held it and moved it towards your face.

“Bet.” You giggled. “You won’t.”

The night air was crisp as your eyes, deep and expressive, locked with his, inviting and enticing, a secret to be held in them. His hair, often styled with flair, rested curly and messy, but you couldn’t help but get lost in the untamed beauty that he portrayed. Not even his lips gently grazing yours could wipe either of your smiles under the moonlight.

And then, for a moment, it wasn’t gentle.

Maybe it was because he sighed against your lips, or maybe it was because you followed an impulse and bit his lower lip, but then it got twisted. Tongues danced with one another, fighting for dominance in a burst of sudden passion.

“C-chan,” you gulped, arms traveling to his nape, playing with his hair. It made him weak.

“Chris,” he sighed, yearning to taste your lips again. And again. He didn’t want to stop. Not yet. “Call me— call me Chris.”

You chuckled. “Only if you call me…”

You were going to tease him, but your ideas suddenly flew away form your mind when he started peppering kisses on your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.

“What?” He snickered. “A pet name of sorts?” He was teasing you, and he was so enjoying it, tasting the weirdly sweet and enticing flavour of your skin in his lips. “Would you like that, princess?” God, he needed more.

You bit your lip, holding back sounds behind heavy breaths, and he patted your thighs, making you jump into his arms without hesitation. Quickly, he moved the both of you, pinning you against the wall closest to you.

“C-chan…” He bit your skin slightly harder. “Chris! Ah, Chris…!”

“F-fuck…” He muttered. “I… I can’t…” He leaned his head in the crook of your neck, now covered in small and red lovebites. “You smell so good.”

You pecked his forehead, trying to catch your breath, your hands stroking his soft hair.

“Not here, right?” You smiled, soothing, comprehensive. His heart softened.

He nodded, sighting against your neck. He let go of your legs, allowing you to stand back on your feet tenderly.

“I’m sorry….?” Chan mumbled shyly. You giggled, brushing it off.

You were about to say something, but then the gravel cracked under someone’s weight. One that wasn’t either of you.

He tensed up under your arms.

You sighed. “Move!” You ushered in a whisper.

He frowned, his eyes darting from you and from where the sound had come from.

“But you—”

“Chan!” You pushed him away, hiding him behind another wall, and quickly took your phone from the pocket of your jacket, zipping back up what Chris had lowered.

“Who’s in there?”

Chan’s breath haltered.

You had hid him just a wall more, meaning that if the security guard found any of you, chances were that he wouldn’t be caught. You would.

You both held your breathing, hands interlinked even if your bodies were as far away as they could to do so, your heartbeats quickening in sync.

And then, it was just silence for a minute, the gravel cracked below the security guard’s feet, and he left as sudden as he had arrived.

You legs felt like jelly, and you let your back fall down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor with a huff.

“You were going to get in trouble.” Chris muttered.

You looked at him from the floor. The moonlight highlightened his lean figure and charismatic features.

You nodded. “It wouldn’t be me who’d get in the worst of it.” You smiled softly.

He nodded with you.

“We should go before it gets too late.”

Just before heading back together to the elevators, you looked to the reception, and grinned softly.

The elevator back up felt more silent than usual. And for some reason that could speak and make him blush, Chan missed the sound of your voice.

“Good night, Chris.”

It wasn’t going to be a good night.

Not after that interruption, which not only scared the shit out of him, but also made him rethink everything he was doing with you.

Chan arrived back to his room. After half an hour of mindlessly staring at the nightsky through the window, someone knocked on the door.

Could it be you? Chris blushed at the thought.

He opened the door to find nothing. Then, he looked to the floor, and found a mug of hot chocolate and a small note.

may have taken a peek to your room card before. i had fun tonight! see you tomorrow? xoxo, your princess.

He grinned.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.

[♦️☆🔓☆♦️]

When he woke up the morning after, his mouth still tasted like chocolate.

There had been nothing that could wipe the silly grin on his face that day. Not his packed schedule, not the knowledge that they had to go back home and it would be his last night there, not the fact that Han had come into his room just to look for his missing sock —which, for obvious reasons, he never found there—, not the fact that Hyunjin was still bitter with him because of what he had named the ‘pretty girl disaster’ —which Chan intended to tell you just to see if you’d laugh like he had imagined.

His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of you.

Your flavoured chapstick, your sweet scent, the way you mumbled his name —his real one, that is—, how your eyes glowed under the moonlight, how his hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist.

He sighed happily for the upteenth time that day, coming out of the shower.

But then, Minho came in to his room.

“Hyung.” He started, and his low tone didn’t seem to bring good news.

Chan nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I know I’m not really good at these things, but I think you should see this.”

The dancer handed him the phone, and Chan turned pale.

It was a picture taken from last night. Chan’s silhouette was fairly obvious, slightly pixelated and hidden by his beanie and his mask. And right in front of him, back facing the camera, was you, your hand holding his.

“So it is you. That’s what I thought,” Minho mumbled. “A random number sent it to Hyunjin. He saved the picture and blocked it, but we thought you should know.”

“Did they know it was me?” Chan stuttered.

The cat owner shook his head, and Chan was able to breathe normally again. “They thought it had been me with Jisung.”

It was there when Chan’s daydreaming faltered.

His thoughts started spinning, not knowing how or where to start.

Would you know about this?

What would you do?

“Hyung.” Minho sighed. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

And Chan hadn’t been able to grasp that, but someone did.

The same someone who knocked on his door at night.

“Guys, you have your own cards.” Chan muttered, opening the door.

But it hadn’t been any of the guys.

“Hi.” You let out in a sight, panting.

Had you ran your way there?

“Hi.” He mumbled weakly.

“Can I…?” He opened the door for you, and quickly closed it back. He turned his back to you, his eyes wide and his heart going crazy.

“Chris.” You mumbled.

He turned around to face you.

“You asked me to stay last night and I went with you to the gardens.” You huffed. “But I want to stay here with you tonight.”

He blinked, passing a hand through his wavy hair. You were there. In front of him. Speaking. God, he had to concentrate.

“We’ll make a deal.” You breathed slowly, staring deeply into his eyes, yearning to know the secrets hidden behind them. “I’ll leave this here.”

You gently plopped your phone on the table near the door to his room. He was still standing there, as if frozen, pyjama pants on and only a bathrobe covering his lean and toned chest.

“A pretty man called Hyunjin came to me talking about some picture,” you started softly. “But yesterday didn’t happen so I’d ruin a man’s career.” His eyes followed how you raised your hands and smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s off.” Your voice lowered, and he got slightly closer, as if wanting to hear you better. “The phone, I mean. Feel free to check it.”

Surprisingly, he just stared at it, then smiled cheekily, heading towards you.

Your eyebrows shot up and you felt deliciously small under his new-formed grin, and how his hands cradled your face.

He pecked your lips with a yearning sigh.

“I missed you.”

You blushed.

“You can have me all night.” Your smile made him feel butterflies on his stomach. “Just me and you.”

He kissed you again, longer this time.

His frame slowly caged you against the door, and he broke the kiss, stroking your cheeks. His body was pressed up against yours, his lips parted as he breathed softly, taking you in. He could feel heat running down his body just by the feeling of you back in his arms, and the only thought that he had clear is that he couldn't hold back anymore.

He needed to kiss you, again, and again, and again. He needed to figure out what you tasted like. He needed to have you. Your hands had gone back to where they had been the night before, and the way you stared at his lips threatened to make him fall to his knees.

His eyes were glued on your lips, and not long after, his mouth followed.

Chris’ heart was pounding against his chest, and he knew for a fact that he had never felt this way before. Never in his whole life. The more he tasted your lips, the kiss almost as passionate as your first one, the more you ruined him, claiming him as yours, making him addictied to the way you sighed and grinned as he moved your bodies to the bed, the hotter his body became.

He fell with you on the matress, and much to his surprise, you moved your bodies, sitting on his lap, taking a groan out of him.

“Such a beauty,” you mumbled, almost to yourself rather than him. “All for me, huh?” You smirked.

The whole world was hazy, the only thing that was clear was your body and your words. Just hearing your voice saying those words to him made him shiver, a shiver that he never experienced before.

He smirked too, and sighed when you untied his bathrobe, your hands roaming freely wherever you wanted to, stroking his chest, claiming him with kisses, the soft colour that they left behind, pink due to your lipstick, and the soft scratches of your nails, that made him bite his lip to keep his sounds hidden.

“Nuh-uh.” You tutted at him with a smile.

He snickered. “Oh, princess. Two can play that game.”

His hands pinned you down against the bed, his lips quickly going back to yours.

“You said I needed to keep my tongue to myself, and I promised that I would” He grinned, almost menacingly, lowering himself, trailing kisses down your body, discarding your underwear.

“I intend to break that promise.”

Maybe you and him would be difficult.

But he had asked you to stay, and you did. And he didn’t want to stop trying. Not yet.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

~Kats, who did most of this in a hospital bed (‘m okay now dw) but fell asleep and didn’t publish it, lol. I LOVED THIS IDEA POOKIE TYSM !!

2K notes · View notes

shy-writer-999 · 1 month ago

Text

Summary: Sickeningly sweet, Sanji can’t do anything but make love to you. A short and very lovey-dovey 900 words.

CW: Afab reader, G/N language, basically pure smut but its very fluffy and sweet, P in V.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Sanji loves to moan your name into your mouth. As he rocks his hips up into you, one hand braces your waist. You’re in one of his favorite positions, sitting on his cock, legs wrapped around him, with your chests pressed tightly together. Your arms are thrown around his neck. Sanji’s free hand cups your cheek, and he’s almost smothering you with kisses so adoring that you can taste the love they’re made of.

He can never get enough of you.

“Fuck, my love,” he murmurs between and during his kisses, with no regard for where his lips are or how understandable he is. “You’re being so sweet for me.”

When you hum into his mouth in response, his hips move back and forth, keeping his cock inside of you. His shaft and tip grind on deep parts of you, rubbing and twitching with pleasure as you throb around him.

Sanji’s hair shifts and tickles your face as he rolls his hips. He’s got a heart-melting smile plastered onto his lips when they’re not locked on yours. Clean-smelling cologne is dusted in faint traces on his skin. He wears this fragrance specifically, not too much and not too little, because he knows it’s your favorite.

“You feel amazing, sweetheart.” Sanji purrs in your ear. It sounds like honey and desire, bouquets of flowers, hundreds of hugs, hand holding and sneaky kisses. At the same time, his tone is saturated with need and distorted by ragged breaths.

While his cock is inside of you and that gorgeous smile plays on his lips, Sanji is the epitome of a doting lover-boy. But while Sanji may seem like just a lover-boy, he’s far more complicated than that. His love is not a monolith, and you know that.

He’s a man with scars of trauma that he works to unpack each day. Sanji recognizes how these experiences have impacted the way that he loves, and he berates himself for sometimes not believing that the love you give him is genuine or that he deserves it.

He will never forget the day that he decided to give you all of him, unabashedly and uninhibited. You had been waiting for that day ever since you met him.

Now, any time that Sanji looks into a mirror, he hopes that you’re staring back at him—he hopes that he sees in his reflection the man that you so ardently cherish and support. And the more time he spends with you, the more he sees in himself someone worthy of being precious.

“You don’t understand how much I love you.” His thumb rubs soft circles on your cheek and his arm pulls your waist tighter. He wants to be as close to you as possible, to feel your heart beat at the same time as his, to match your breaths and memorize your every curve.

Each blissful and loving buck of his cock into your sensitive spot feels euphoric. Heat rages between your legs—in an attempt to take him, you squeeze him with your legs. You want as much of him as he will give you. Like always.

“I need you, angel.” Sanji’s voice is desperate and his hips move faster.

“You have me, Sanji.” It’s a cliché response, maybe. But it still rings true. No matter how many times you say it, he’ll never get tired of hearing it.

You are all that he could ever ask for. When he hears your words, an affirmation of your love, his breath quickens. You get him off in every sense. It’s the closeness of your body and the feeling of your core pulsing around him, but it’s also your affection. Something about feeling loved and loving you in return sets him off—especially when you’re on his cock.

Sanji’s brows are pinched at the middle, his mouth is open, and those pretty eyes of his are on fire. He’s almost at his limit. He’d like to see you cum before he fully lets go. It’s a sight that he savors, the last course, the dessert he never stops craving. Seeing you orgasm is sweeter than anything he’s ever made or tasted.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Please.”

It takes no effort to do as he says. That familiar, white-hot, and eye-rolling wave of pleasure comes crashing down within seconds. It’s easy to cum when his voice gets like that—husky, low, and politely demanding. You’re floating in and drowned by pure ecstasy and true love. It washes over you for many moments.

Seeing you orgasm on his cock, satisfied and almost drooling, is what pushes Sanji into that wave. As he cums, his hips spasm upwards. You can feel that familiar tingling sensation, Sanji filling you up with his hot cum, and you relish it. His last haphazard thrusts are punctuated by groans and words that make your heart twist. “I—love you—so—fucking—much.”

You know that he’s telling the truth, but no matter how many times he says it you’ll never get tired of hearing it.

that's all for this one :D (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ i hope u liked it, i feel eh about it 🥴 but he is such a sweetie >///<

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october.

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

#one piece smut #z's kinktober #op smut #one piece x reader #sanji smut #sanji op #sanji fluff #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji x reader #op sanji smut #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #sanji #black leg sanji

592 notes · View notes

obsessivevoidkitten · 1 month ago

Text

Audience Participation

Kinktober Day 8: Hypnotism

Three Yandere Vampire Men x Feminized Male Reader CW: Noncon, vampires, vampirism, biting, blood drinking, praise kink, mind control, hypnotism, feminization, polycule, public sex, exhibitionism, public masturbation, praise, oral sex, anal sex, death of a side character, kidnapping, general yandere behavior Word Count: 3.2k

(The EXTREMELY long awaited rewrite of audience participation is here. Not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. REALLY hope this gets a good reception! Don't forget to comment <3)

You were but the humble servant of the wealthiest merchant in your city, Rorik. And he did not accrue such wealth by being kind or generous to the lowly peasants that cleaned his shops or grew the produce that he sold. No, he got his fortune by exploiting the labor of the poor. With rampant poverty in the city it was very easy to do. You were exceedingly replaceable and you had nowhere else to go. When you weren't sweeping floors, stocking shelves, or tending to the fresh produce grown out back you were in the overstuffed shack where the other male employees were stuffed. Of course it wasn't free, Rorik charged each of you a large portion of your income for this "kindness". But there was nowhere else you could afford.

Poor living conditions and low pay were certainly not the end of the abuses you had to endure at the hands of your employer either. It was not at all uncommon for Rorik to fly off the handle and get physically violent towards whichever servant was nearest.

And if all that wasn't bad enough you only got one day off every other week.

Still... it was better than being homeless and mercilessly beaten by the town guards and not having even the smallest crumb of food...

It was one of your rare days off and there just so happened to be a traveling actor's troupe in the city for the week. You had heard their performance was pretty interesting, and best of all they were doing a free performance for nothing but tips today and tomorrow. It would be set up in the town square and anyone would be able to attend. You walked into the square and stood at the edge of the crowd that had already assembled. There was a raised platform so you would be able to see okay, though hearing every detail might be an issue, but that was your fault for sleeping in a bit.

Not long after you had arrived the actors stepped onto their stage and introduced themselves. There were three of them, all men. A large muscular man named Viktor who appeared to be in his forties. He seemed gruff and grizzled, not the type you would typically expect in the theatrical arts. In stark contrast to him there was a somewhat flamboyant skinny man named Oliver who seemed to be in his mid 20s with long red hair. And the third man had an average build and medium length black hair and seemed more cold compared to the other two and looked to be around the same age as Oliver, his name was Sebastian.

The first thing they performed were some small skits that the rest of the audience really enjoyed, they didn't get such a strong reaction out of you but you still liked them. After that as a warm up they did a short play, completely with cool fire effects. It was pretty impressive how only three people managed to play such a large array of characters. And even though they had appeared gruff and cold respectively Viktor and Sebastian were very convincing in each role they played. And the costumes were simply perfect.

It was hard not to imagine being in their shoes. Traveling from city to city, trying new foods, meeting new people, getting to pretend to be someone else, always having enough money. After a few moments of fantasizing, you shook yourself out of your silly pondering and focused on enjoying the performance.

Unbeknownst to you, while you were watching the play, one of the actors was watching you. Oliver. Something about you seemed familiar, as if he had known you all his life. You captivated him, perhaps it was the rags you wore in place of shoes or your tattered clothing that reminded him of his own humble beginnings. He could tell you were daydreaming about what your life would be like if you were like them. It was plain on your face. But you really didn't know how life would be with them. The thirst for blood, skulking the shadows for a quick feed, never being able to set down roots for fear of suspicion.

They were vampires.

And if what happened next had never happened you wouldn't have had to find that out.

As you were thoroughly enjoying the performance, and Oliver was equally enjoying your eyes on him, you were suddenly smacked hard in the head. It was Rorik. And he was even less happy than usual. You cupped your head and grunted in pain.

"Why the fuck are you slacking off here!? You cannot just take your day off when one of the other peasants is sick! Take off next month, if I even fucking let you after this!!"

The shouting had caused a scene and all eyes were on you as Rorik roughly grabbed you by the arm and dragged you away. Tears streamed down your face from a combination of pain, humiliation, and frustration. You couldn't even have one day, just one, to forget your troubles.

Seeing the abuse you suffered cemented Oliver's decision. The troupe would have soon moved on for another location, but because of his previous infatuation with you now combined with seeing you abused as he once was guaranteed that he had to do something. He was sure he could convince Seb and Viktor to go along with what needed to be done. If he couldn't he would just have to push onward and do it himself.

Rorik took you to the general store, the largest of his several establishments, and shoved you in the door before leaving in a huff. You donned the uniform that you kept in the back and began another relentless shift. When it finally ended you hobbled your way to the shared shack, sobbing silently on your way. All the while being watched by three sets of eyes in the darkness. When you got to what passed for your home you washed up and went to the lump of straw you used as a bed to let the sweet void of sleep take you.

Oliver wanted to be the one to fetch you, but he also had other... "preparations" to make. He wanted to get you a little gift that he was just sure you would love. So instead it was Sebastian who was sent to get you. His ability to put people under a trance was as good as Oliver's. But it had just never been Viktor's forte. After leaving your shitty shack you began to shamble off to your job but a handsome man with cold eyes bumped into you.

"Oh hey, sorry about that."

You were going to respond but upon meeting his gaze you found yourself unable to speak. Instead you just let him take your hand and lead you towards the town square and into the outfitted wagon they used as a mobile home. It contained many props and costumes and a long cushioned bench on each side to be used as beds while traveling. Sebastian sat you down and immediately began stripping you and applying makeup before Viktor swapped in and started dressing you up in a beautiful dress. Sebastian spoke.

"We are sorry about your situation."

He brushed your cheek gently before applying a bit of blush.

"We watched you a bit and we agreed. You're going to join us. We were a bit reluctant but... Ollie convinced us..."

You could hear and understand the words but were powerless to protest under his trance. You didn't even want to. The hypnotic spell you were under muted negative emotions, so you just smiled and nodded at the nice man.

"Oliver is going to literally squeal with how pretty you look."

You smiled dumbly at that, you weren't sure why. You were a man and men did not typically wear dresses but it was nice to be thought of as pretty.

Viktor chimed in.

"Heh, yeah, he always had a thing for princesses."

"She just needs her crown."

Sebastian placed a beautiful ruby and silver tiara on you. You were still confused why they were treating you like a lady, but not enough confusion to break the spell, you just accepted it instead. Viktor explained your role.

"Hey girlypop, you're going to be in our play and your part is the princess. Don't worry, you don't have any lines to memorize."

"Yeah, just be good and act scared of the vampire and then happy when the knights come to rescue you. You can do that for us, right?"

You just smiled and nodded slightly.

"I will be playing the vampire, Ollie and Seb will be the knights."

Now that you were adorned in your princess costume Viktor and Sebastian began getting dressed in theirs.

"Oh, Vik! You remembered to tell the guards today's show was adult only right?"

Under the trance your mind vaguely wondered what was so adult about the show, but you easily pushed the thought away.

"Of course."

When Oliver came back to the others, with a box that contained the gift he had gone to get for you, he was already in his outfit. Shining plate mail that really looked authentic.

"Oh wow! She looks just so perfect, I want to take her here!"

Viktor stopped him from practically pouncing on you.

"Not yet, it'll ruin the make up! Besides, the show is about to start..."

//////////////////////

For the most part the show was a normal affair. Though quite a bit longer than the shorter plays from the day before. It started with you playing the part of a quiet melancholic princess who's somber beauty attracted the eye of a vampire lord that wanted to add you to his manor. Everything went normally until the vampire had absconded with you.

The scene after that entailed the vampire fucking the princess. And he did just that, right in front of the audience. He hitched up your dress, slathered your hole in lube and took some time to stretch you out with a couple of fingers, and then slid his cock right up into you for everyone in the crowd to see. As you were instructed you acted scared of the vampire, some of your real confusion and fear bubbling up to the surface. The audience loved your "performance", they could almost believe that you were really being held against your will and ravaged by the big bad vampire. Many of them openly masturbated at the lewd display before them, jerking their cocks or slipping fingers into their cunts as you cried and struggled and pleaded for help, not knowing or caring that you weren't a willing participant.

Though you were frightened and disoriented you weren't completely under your own will and Viktor's cock also fit into you perfectly and you couldn't help but to begin whimpering in pleasure and arching your back in need, pressing your ass back against him with each of his thrusts into you. It didn't take very much of this for your cock to twitch as you came, and it didn't take him very long after to fill you with his seed. You were in a complete daze now, barely aware of what was going on.

After showing your leaking hole to the audience your knights in shining armor showed up to rescue you from the foul blood-sucker. Sebastian "slayed" him by "stabbing" him with his mighty "sword". He fucked Viktor's face hard, to much cheering by the audience.

Now the two valiant knights carried you away from his lair. Oliver was the first to speak to you.

"Fair princess, we have rescued you! Wouldn't you like to show us a token of your appreciation?"

He looked into your eyes and pulled you further into the hypnosis. You really believed you were a princess that had been saved by a violent monster. He kissed you passionately and you returned the gesture. He removed the bottom half of his costume and guided your head to his throbbing cock, the slight musk hitting your nose before you engulfed his entire length in your warm and eager mouth.

As you were bent over sucking Oliver, Sebastian lifted up your dress and slowly pressed his cock into you, using Viktor's left over load as lube. He said some cheesy line about the princess' royal hole being very tight. You weren't really paying much attention, you were more focused on the distracting sensation of Sebastian fucking into you as Oliver gently thrust in and out of your perfect wet mouth as you continued to suck his cock. Oliver felt as though he must be in heaven, he didn't last too terribly long. How could he possibly last while you looked up at him with your lips around his dick while he felt every little murmur and twitch of pleasure being caused by Sebastian?

Sebastian lasted longer since he had already fucked Viktor's face, you came before he did while Oliver praised you for taking it so well and peppered you with kisses. Your cock throbbed and dribbled semen as he did so. When Sebastian finally finished inside of you the "knights" cleaned you up and the play wrapped up with the implication that you'd be taken back to the castle and all was well. The audience clapped, those who weren't still one handed due to masturbating.

The vampires took you back to their spacious wagon, they had you seated comfortably before Sebastian ended the spell he had you under.

"Wh-what the hell!? Why did I do all that stuff? Why am I here? How'd you make me do all that?"

You were understandably confused and disoriented. You had a somewhat fuzzy memory of everything they had you do. All the sex in the play. Having you here alone. Just what were they and what were they after? The door to the wagon was being blocked by the muscular one, Viktor. So you couldn't just run off. Oliver was excited to talk to you.

"We saved you! You were a damsel in distress so we heroically rescued you from that vile man! Now you can be treated like a proper princess~"

The weirdo kept talking as if you were a woman. It may have made you blush if you hadn't been so traumatized by what they did to you on stage. The whole town would know within hours. It was the most humiliating violation that you had ever endured.

"Y-you drugged me somehow! Or used witchcraft! You're disgusting rapists, just let me go!"

Oliver looked dejected. It looked like Sebastian was about to yell at you but Oliver started talking again. He held out a large box that was all wrapped up for you. He stuttered and stammered, in denial about the words you had for him.

"Y-you're just shy... maybe I should have taken things slower for such a reserved l-lady. I'm sorry. B-but you'll love us, okay? I promise! We will take good care of you, I even got you a gift to commemorate our new relationship..."

You took it and began unwrapping it, not really seeing any other option.

"I'm not a girl! Stop calling me th-"

You were shocked into silence when you saw what was in the box. The bloody decapitated head of Rorik... You reeled back in shock and rolled to the floor. Oliver looked at you like a proud pet cat that was presenting you with its kill. Viktor looked away at the scene and Sebastian had his face in his palm.

"You like it right? I punished him and made him hurt a bunch for you~ Y-you like me now right?"

Sebastian placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ollie, I told you, most people don't like dead things as gifts... they like flowers and shit like that..."

Oliver sniffled and looked as if he might cry after considering Sebastian's words and seeing the terror on your face.

"Please just let me go, I promise not to tell anyone..." You barely managed to squeak the words out.

Oliver began crying at your insistence to be released while the other two ignored you and tried to cheer up their partner. Oliver grabbed you and pulled you into his lap while you struggled. His grip was like iron. He kept muttering something about being sorry and how he'd get you flowers and make you the happiest lady ever while nuzzling you. You were only getting ever more panicked so Sebastian calmed you down with another dose of hypnotism. It was strong enough to make you enjoy Oliver's touches and reciprocate by leaning into his chest.

"We... may have have messed up by having sex with her so soon... not everyone enjoys being on stage I guess... should have gone slower. Let's just keep them enthralled while she gets to know us! See Ollie? She already stopped struggling."

"Yeah Oliver, just give your little doll time to adjust. Moving in with her new boyfriends is a big step in a relationship. Once you turn her she'll probably be so grateful that she'll be obsessed with us!"

Oliver was convinced. He would just be patient. You could be turned by morning.

"Yeah, you'll love being a vampire! It isn't so fun not being able to stay in one place for very long, and of course blood takes some getting used to... but it's so much better than what you were dealing with and you have us with you too! You'll see we are your heroes and then we'll make love allllll day, it'll be amazing."

Vampires? That should have set alarm bells off in your head, but it didn't. Probably because you were "enthralled" as Sebastian mentioned. Vampires were considered very rare, is that really what they were...? As if on cue, Oliver sank his fangs into your neck. You flinched but then moaned softly. All Oliver had to do was drain you nearly to death then feed you some of his own blood. If he sired you it would give the two of you a special bond and you'd be much more likely to love him.

You clung to him as you faded into unconsciousness, he laid you down carefully and bit his wrist, he allowed a few drops of blood to drip into your mouth. To say he was excited would have been an understatement. He finally had a pretty girlfriend he could dress up like a living doll and bounce on his cock. And he sired you, so not only would you share a soul bond, but you would also still be susceptible to his hypnotism, should he ever need it.

If you ever resisted him he would just subtly change your outlook on things and overtime you would genuinely fall for all three of them. Oliver and Sebastian watched you rest as the vampirism took hold while Viktor went to the front of the wagon to begin the journey to the next town, you would never see your hometown again.

1K notes · View notes

peachdues · 2 months ago

Text

ALL THE THINGS WE LEFT UNSAID — NSFW TEASER

Tengen’s Bundle of Joy • secret pregnancy AU

A/N: oh yeah, this isn’t going to go wrong in the slightest, not at all —

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Uzui slumps against the doorframe with a quiet exhale. “Look at you.”

The sound of his voice is enough to set you on edge, but the sight of him nearly knocks you over. It’s unfair that such an insufferable pain in the ass would be so damn pretty.

You scowl and the child in your belly shifts, sensing your unease. “Get out. I’m in no mood for your insults or mockeries —“

“You’re beautiful.” He chances a single, cautious step past the entryway, eyes dazed as he stares at you, as though in a trance.

“Why are you here?”

That seems to catch his attention, the dazed fog in his eyes clearing with a few, quick blinks. “I wanted to see how you were.” He swallows, hard. “How you both were.”

Warily, you step back, turning your hips away from him. “You’ve known where I was for months, and you wait until now?” You don’t bother to hold back the chill in your tone. Better to keep the distance between you firm rather than have to make up the slack when he inevitably decides to cross your boundaries.

——

“I can help,” his exhale is hot against your neck, though not more so than his hands as they skim down your shoulders. His fingers play with the opening in your robe. “You know I can. You don’t have to endure this alone.”

Oh, he could. He’d done such wicked things to you with just his mouth and hands alone, never mind what he done with the rest of him, so thick and hard.

The warmth bleeding into your back is like a drug, and you can’t help but melt into him as he ghosts his lips along the slope of your shoulder.

“Do you know how I’ve dreamed of you?” Surprisingly limber fingers push beneath the front folds of your yukata to graze the bare skin above your collar bone. Though the room is warm thanks to the fire cracking merrily in the hearth, you find yourself shivering as your robe teases lightly across your skin, baring more of you to the open air.

The breadth of the Sound Pillar’s forearm across your chest keeps you locked in place against him. “I’m at your mercy every time I fall asleep.”

“Uzu — oh,” your head thuds against his sternum when his fingers — those damn fingers — find your exposed breast.

“You realized it too that night, didn’t you?” The slow parting of your robe from your shoulders spreads goosebumps over your skin where the fabric drags. Between his hands and the teasing caress of your robe sliding down your arms, every nerve in your body comes alive. You sink further into him, bare from the top of your rounded belly, up.

Uzui’s arms swallow you up from behind, and his lips find your shoulder. “That we were made for one another? It’s why we didn’t stop, isn’t it?”

Too much; his hands are too warm, his mouth far too soft where it dances along your desperate skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, let alone by someone whose caress almost could pass for something reverent. Loving.

It’s been so long since anyone cared.

“Aren’t you tired of us playing this game?” He asks, as though you’d been the one responsible for putting the pieces on the board. “Why do we have to keep dancing around it?”

Uzui doesn’t say what exactly it is he speaks of, and you know better than to ask. It is a door that cannot be shut once opened, and there is no point in trying to force it, anyways.

After all, you were not the one who locked it in the first place.

He drops to his knees before you, staring up at you with something like awe.

“I want you both to be mine.” He whispers, his forehead pressing to the generous swell of your stomach before he peers up at you. for a moment, all of the heat brimming in his eyes is smothered out by pure yearning, earnest and desperate.

“My baby,” his gaze remains locked with yours even as his lips softly graze your navel. “My woman.”

His lips travel down the outward curve of your stomach, every kiss an act of worship, until he pauses right before the dip in your thighs.

“Just say yes,” he urges, mouth hovering dangerously —infuriatingly close to where you ache. “I’ll take care of you both, I swear it.”

He seems so earnest. It is almost easy — too easy — to forget what led you here, heavily pregnant with his child.

You’d be more useful dead.

being horny doesn’t fix your problem, idiot

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tengen uzui #kny uzui #kny tengen #uzui tengen #tengen x reader #uzui #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny smut

432 notes · View notes

innerfare · 2 months ago

Text

Filthy - Luffy

Summary: Luffy's changed a lot in the past two years. Reader is a Straw Hat who is an archer and has spent the past two years training on Amazon Lily with the Kuja Pirates. Text below the cut.

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: oral sex (reader receiving), dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a little bit of a silly ending

Word Count: 2,110

———

Undaunted by the dark of night, you followed the smoke on the horizon to your captain’s camp. You felt eyes on your person the entire way, but by now, you felt confident nothing would attack you. After all, your captain had tamed the entire island, from every hulking beast to each little mouse. And when you had stepped foot on it for the first time in almost two years a month ago, he had tamed you, too, had sucked all that Kuja Pirate independence out of you and fucked an addiction to his sex right into you.

Despite the chilly night, your cheeks flushed with warmth. They only grew hotter as you reached your destination, your heart racing in your chest.

You lingered at the tree line for a moment, your bow in one hand, a large platter of freshly made dorayaki in the other, watching your captain as he laid in front of the blazing fire he’d made, the flames casting a warm glow over his lean figure, illuminating the scar that now stretched the expanse of his chest.

Though his straw hat was over his eyes and he laid perfectly still, you could tell he wasn’t asleep. Not just that, you knew he had sensed you approach, had picked up on your presence the second you landed on the beach. Your time training on Amazon Lily with the Kuja Pirates had made you more agile, more stealthy, than ever, but he picked up on your presence in an instant.

You recalled that first night like it was yesterday. Knowing Rayleigh would be upset if he found out, as would Hancock, but overcome by the desire to see your beloved captain as soon as you heard Rayleigh had returned to Sabaody early, you had snuck out of the village and stolen a small boat. And when you had wandered into the jungle in search of your captain, you had found him. Or rather, you had found someone who looked a bit like him.

Filthy as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks, with stubble on his cheeks- something you’d never seen on Luffy’s face before, and a sort of animalistic gleam in his eye, you had been unsettled.

Then, you had been aroused, the two of you sizing each other up like strangers.

You didn’t know how long it took- a few minutes, maybe just a couple of seconds- for him to have you pinned against a tree with his face between your legs, lapping at your folds like he’d been wandering the desert for months and you were the only thing he had to drink. Once he had his fill, he’d pinned you to the jungle floor and rutted into you like a wild beast. And you had begged him for more, cumming more times than you could count.

The happy go lucky kid you had met was still in there, somewhere, but he’d been forced to make room for a man, a man with a voracious appetite and sexual prowess, a man with rough hands but a soft tongue, a man whose fearsome reputation was known the world over, a man you would risk absolutely anything to be tangled naked with.

“You’re late,” he said in that gruff voice of his, a little raspy, a little husky. And so much deeper than you recalled.

You stepped into the firelight and stood over him, willing your heart to stop fluttering in your chest. “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment, Captain.”

“You always get here just after sunset.”

“It’s only been four weeks since I started coming,” you told him, setting the platter of dorayaki down on a log; you knew Luffy could hunt and cook his own meat, but you also knew he was hopeless at baking, a problem for someone with a sweet tooth like his. And though you knew he needed to train, not be spoiled, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Only four weeks, huh? Could’ve sworn it’s been longer.” Finally, he sat up, his straw hat falling back off his head and hanging from his neck, a bit thicker than it had been two years ago. His black hair was a complete mess, sticking up in all directions, and while you used to think it made him look like a little boy, you now saw him as a disheveled man who was too busy fighting to worry about his appearance. The muscle he had put on certainly helped, his once-lanky limbs now corded with it, his scarred abdomen thick with it. “I guess I’ve gotten used to having you.”

Having. Luffy never would have used that language in the past.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Just when you got it down, a hand wrapped around your leg, just above your knee. A gasp spilled from your lips at the feel of his calloused palm against your bare skin.

“Missed you,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek against your bare thigh. You had taken to wearing fewer clothes while on Amazon Lily, and that was the first thing he had clocked when you appeared on his little island. The second thing he had noticed was your chest. Had you been hiding your breasts this whole time, or had he simply not noticed? Nearly two years mostly alone in the jungle had opened his eyes to many things, including that he had not been indulging in all that life had to offer, particularly not life as a pirate captain with a beautiful woman on his crew.

“I missed you too, Luffy,” you muttered. You looked down at him and pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. You’d spent the entire journey with a dull ache between your legs that, if you were being honest, had begun building the moment you sailed away last time, but now that you were with him, now that you felt him touching you, you wondered how you had waited a full week to come crawling back.

“Come ‘ere.”

You put up no resistance as he laid back down, bringing you with him. You knew exactly what he wanted, knew exactly how starved he was for the sensitive folds between your legs.

Luffy’s mouth had started watering the second he sensed your presence. He didn’t think twice about pulling you onto the ground with him and pushing your legs apart. The only thing that gave him pause were the panties you wore, an annoying piece of fabric he was convinced you wore just to inconvenience him.

“Why?” He wanted to ask, but the words were stuck in his throat. He didn’t have time to waste on questions. He was hungry.

He ripped your panties with ease. He thought he heard you gasp; you might have even complained. He barely heard, his ears ringing. The only thing that mattered was the sight of your pussy right in front of him, already leaking cream, glistening with his dessert. After a long week of hard training, he thought, this was exactly what he needed.

“That’s my girl,” he said in a low voice. “Nice and ready.” He grabbed your thighs and pulled you down, burying his face in your needy cunt and inhaling the scent. Some sort of low sound, either a growl or a groan, spilled from his lips.

He lapped at your wet folds, your flavor exploding on his tongue. His efforts earned him more of that wonderful wetness, and the taste of it only made him greedier. He thumbed your clit to draw more out of you and pushed his tongue into your tight little hole, eager to feel you clench around it as you came.

He was vaguely aware of you gasping and saying his name, but he was more focused on the growing bulge between his legs, the rock hard erection that he had every intention of burying inside you- no condom, no protection, not a single layer between you as you fucked like wild animals in the jungle.

He pulled his tongue out of your cunt long enough to say, “Take your clothes off.”

You obliged, pulling your top off and tossing it aside. The chilly air made sure your nipples were nice and erect. You tweaked them as your captain shoved his tongue back into your hole, his thumb still tormenting your clit. It wasn’t a moment later that your first orgasm came over you, a pleasure that had you collapsing forward.

Luffy tightened his grip on your thighs to keep your cunt on his face.

“Sweet pussy,” he muttered, licking up all that cream. “Gonna cum again.”

“Luffy.” You screwed your eyes shut, jarred by the overstimulation.

He didn’t relent, humming in contentment as you gave him more and more sweet liquid to drink up, clenched harder and harder around his greedy tongue. He held you in place despite your body jerking around, and the result was another orgasm. He lapped at your cunt a few more times, savoring the way you bucked your hips against his face.

Luffy’s appetite hadn’t been sated, not in the slightest, but he had no choice but to stop. His balls were aching between his legs, his cock rock hard and in desperate need of you. The way you clenched around his tongue was the way you’d clench around his cock, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

He supposed he could always lick your cunt some more after he fucked you. And then he could fuck you again, if he so desired. You had the entire night.

With that in mind, he pushed you off his face, only to pin you under him, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you beneath him.

You struggled a little, but it was more out of habit than anything else, unaccustomed to being mounted, particularly not by your captain. But the way he wound his arms around you and pinned you beneath his body made your cunt ache. You needed to feel him inside you, needed to feel that delicious stretch, needed to feel full.

Luffy nuzzled his cheek against yours, relishing the softness of your skin. He placed a few warm kisses against your cheek, and another few in the crook of your neck.

“I’ve got so much cum in these balls,” he groaned. “You’re gonna take all of it. Can you do that for me? Can you take all my cum?”

Pressing your lips together to keep the bottom one from quivering, you nodded your head with a sniffle.

“Need to hear you say it, babe.” He reached between your bodies and undid the zipper of his shorts, pulling out his veiny cock. He pressed it into your ass, exhilarated by the sensation of your soft skin and supple flesh against his erection. He rutted against you a few times, unable to stop himself.

You took a few breaths to find your voice. “I can do it. I can take all of it.”

“That’s my girl.”

God, when did Luffy get like this? You thought you were going to explode. And then, to make matters worse, he pushed the head of his cock into you.

“Oh, fuck.” Tears pricked at your eyes.

“You said you could take it,” he told you, pushing deeper inside you.

You cried out.

“Are you crying?” He gathered a fistful of your hair in his hand and pulled your head back. “After you promised you could take it?”

“It’s just so good.”

“I know it is.” With that, he bottomed out inside you.

You barely had time to grow accustomed to the feel of his cock inside you before he began thrusting into you, dragging his hips against your ass and pounding your weepy little cunt like he owned it. And he did own it.

The lewd clapping sound filtered through the forest, drowning out the crackle of the fire. Your moans followed as Luffy reached beneath you to pinch one of your nipples, his other hand finding your clit and thumbing it.

The feeling of his warm balls slapping against you only made it worse. Soon enough, you felt yourself clenching around him, and it was that clench that drew Luffy’s orgasm out of him.

“Oh, it’s coming. I’m cumming. Fuck.” He grunted and groaned, snapping his his against yours as he pumped you full of hot cum, thrusting a few more times for good measure to be sure it was nice and deep inside you.

“Don’t worry,” he said, pressing a warm kiss into your cheek, covered in dirty and tears. “There’s more where that came from.” With that, he hopped to his feet, a smile stretching across his face. “You brought me dorayaki? Thanks!”

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece smut #luffy smut #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x reader smut #straw hat pirates

595 notes · View notes

kingtomura · 3 months ago

Text

From Water to Wine

summary: It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him.

Fuck.

Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, established relationship, smut with plot, lots of plot, jealousy, insecurity, hurt/comfort, oral (f! receiving), make up sx, confessions, a ton of kissing, not sorry, toxic environments, piv, overstim, creampie, begging, bad parental figures, toxic parenting, mdni

wc: 9.4k | crossposted to ao3 | part 4 of the strict parents au (one, two, three)

If someone had asked you a year ago where you saw yourself right now, you would have given them a million different answers.

None of them involved your current reality.

You would have never thought you would be right here, right now — in your boyfriend’s shabby basement drinking with his friends while they smoked and argued about the latest game releases.

And they were an interesting set of friends.

“Bullshit, what the hell do you even know about games?” Tomura spat, pointing a finger and splashing a bit of beer from the bottle he held in his hand.

The one you’ve come to know as Dabi just smiles that same grin that makes Tomura’s eye twitch in irritation and shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, not my fault some of us prefer first person shooters.”

The conversation between them carries on and you find your mind drifting away — way too focused on the way Tomura has his arm wrapped around you with his free hand pressed against your hip, pulling you closer and making your cheeks flush deeper than what the alcohol already has.

You like when he gets this way — a little louder and a little looser with his words. It's all a precursor to what will happen tonight, when he’s a little rougher and presses into you so much deeper.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you find yourself lost in the thought, biting your lip and watching the way Tomura’s heavy lidded eyes narrow as he focuses on his argument with Dabi.

You can’t help but stare when he gets like this, the gleam of fire in his eye when he argues, never backing down when he knows he’s right.

It’s alluring.

The giddy feeling you have only grows and you know its because tonight Tomura will fuck you in a way he only does when his grin is a little too wide and his eyes are a little too low.

You feel more emboldened and your words are looser when it’s like this. Eager to speak up in the argument, defending Tomura against Dabi’s quips and its fun.

It’s different to be able to speak so freely around people who would never judge you like your old stuck up friends would have. They all came from good families who have high expectations. Anything outside of the normal would be mocked and expelled.

You feel so free here.

With Tomura — with all of them.

“Whatever you say, freak.”

“I'm sure it takes one to know one.” You shoot back and the room breaks out in laughter, even Dabi holds up his hands in surrender.

The smug grin you wore only widened as Tomura leaned in and kissed your temple, proud that you can hold your own against the biggest smartass in the room.

Himiko stands from her place on the couch with Spinner, laugh dying down, but smile remaining on her face. “Wow, Tomura, I like her way better than your other girl.”

You feel your grin slide off of your face as fast as it had arrived.

Other girl?

Tomura has never mentioned another girl besides you.

The concerning comment makes your mind race with endless possibilities, the cycle only being broken as Himiko announces her departure, unaware of the inner turmoil she’s just thrown upon you.

“Jin doesn't like when I stay out too late so I’ll see you all later!” Her voice is high and chipper as she bounces towards the door.

“Hey, tell your brother don’t forget what he owes me, crazy girl!” Dabi yells after her, Himiko only returning a small wave and exiting the room.

There’s a lull in the conversation, only being broken as Spinner dies in his game of Mario Kart, too drunk to focus, but all the more determined to win.

“Damn it!” His frustration breaks through as he stands to his feet, “I almost had it!”

Dabi nods, clearly unbothered by the outburst and walking over to him, “work on it next time. It's getting late and I'm tired.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Spinner asks a little too loud, his intoxicated state more obvious as the minutes went on.

Dabi only shrugs, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him to the door. “Can’t let you walk home like this and risk getting snatched up now can I, princess?”

You vaguely register Spinner’s retort as Dabi throws a hand up in a wave and leaves as well, leaving only you and Tomura in the room.

What would have been exciting has become a weight in your stomach, leaving a pit of dread as your mind raced with Himiko’s words.

Some other girl. Someone before you. A girl who’s already met his friends, who has already been in your place. It brings a different kind of feeling to your mind that you’ve never really experienced.

The only thing that grounds you is Tomura’s shuffling as he stands and kisses your forehead.

It’s as if that one kiss dispelled the thoughts poisoning your mind and replaced them with the warm feeling you usually have when it comes to Tomura. The feeling that is only heightened by the strong sensation of alcohol.

You unsteadily trail behind him as he laces his fingers in yours and leads you out of the room and towards his.

The path is a familiar one and the giddy feeling returns as you race through the familiar corridors with him.

His home feels like a maze and the alcohol makes everything feel so much more fun. Your giggles and hurried footsteps are the only thing echoing throughout the halls as you chase behind him, eager to reach his room and come undone under his familiar touch.

Tomura has a habit of surprising you, though.

You blame the alcohol for your dulled senses as you don’t expect him to stop before his bedroom, turning to press you into the corridor wall. A small gasp leaves you at the impact and you don’t have time to react before Tomura is gripping your thighs, hiking you up against the wall and pressing you so much closer.

The whimper that escapes your lips would embarrass you any other day, but today you can’t bring yourself to care. It only spurs Tomura on as he presses forward, kissing you with a fever you hadn’t expected him to be withholding. The urgency of the kiss only shows you how much he may have been holding back during the get together.

You let out a soft moan as Tomura bites your lower lip, only to soothe it with his slick tongue in the next moment. Your arms wrap around his neck as you tilt your head, desperately seeking more of him as this heated endeavor grows with every passing moment.

His hands travel up your thighs and along your sides, gripping anything and everything he could, pressing his clothed erection closer to your core and giving you more needed friction as he grinds against you.

The way his hands slip under your shirt and massage your breasts makes you gasp again and Tomura takes this opportunity to press kisses along the column of your neck, loving the way he can finally leave as many marks as he wants.

You’re in his home — there were no rules against marks. There were no rules at all.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling as Tomura licks and kisses along your neck, burying your hand in his ashen locks and weakly rutting your hips against his, craving more of him in any way possible.

“So needy,” he breathes against you and you have to bite back a whine at his low tone.

Tomura has you right where he wants you and it’s obvious. The more you ached for it, the more he would drag it out to tease you. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to rip the shorts off of you and take you right here, but you know it’s not that easy.

“T-Tomura…” you try to keep it together, show him that you can be coherent even with the fuzz of alcohol muddling your mind.

He pinches a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, this time drawing a yelp that you just couldn’t contain.

His low chuckle reverberates against your neck, sending shivers all the way to your spine as slick between your thighs is beginning to soak through the material of your panties.

“So sensitive, baby… you’d think I've been denying you.”

But you can’t help it. You wish you could cry out to him that your body just reacts like that for him, but you didn’t trust anything to fall from your lips besides a moan, so instead you keep quiet and hope he would give in to you sooner rather than later.

Tomura trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, and then ultimately back to your soft lips, enjoying the feel of them against his. You knew this was always his favorite part.

It was soft, it was intimate, and it was yours.

Yours…

Your brows furrow at an unwanted thought, but you press on — pulling Tomura closer and flicking your tongue against his lips, knowing he would pull closer and deepen the kiss.

He does and you’re grateful.

The way his tongue dominates your mouth makes you mewl into the kiss. A welcome distraction from your increasingly loud thoughts.

Tomura groans, bringing a hand down lower and lower until he reaches your clothed cunt. His finger presses against the thin fabric of the shorts, testing the waters of your sensitivity and loving the reaction he received in return.

His touch makes your breath hitch, the feeling alleviating a bit of pressure that's been building up deep within you.

You need more of it.

He pulls away again, trailing those soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck once more. It’s something that would usually make your heart flutter, but right now your mind is beginning to trail off, again.

It’s the idea of your boyfriend with some other girl that haunts you. Someone before you. Her hands on his, doing the things you’ve grown to love with the boy you—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t want to think right now. You just want to feel. You just want Tomura to take you and make you feel good so you can stop fucking thinking—

“Hey.”

Tomura’s sharp tone snaps you from your spiraling thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

“What’s going on?” His voice is rough, as it usually is, but he is not frustrated. The narrowed glare in his eyes would make anyone else believe he was irritated, but not you.

You know Tomura’s expressions like the back of your hand. He’s worried.

“I..” you pause, words lost on your tongue. What could you say? Jealousy is an ugly trait to have. “What do you mean?”

Tomura doesn’t buy your feigned ignorance.

He pulls away further to get a better look at you, his hands resting on your thighs, the soothing motion of them tenderly rubbing up and down the exposed area makes you want to relax under his touch.

“Why are you distracted?”

Your eyes cut to the side and you turn your head, unable to meet his ruby red gaze. The fear of admitting something as petty as jealousy eats at you.

“I’m not.” You mutter, the lie not fooling your own ears. You’d be naive to think it would work on the one who taught you how to lie in the first place.

It's clear he could see right through you and your eyes close at the soft touch of his hand along your chin, turning your head back to face him.

His eyes soften when they finally meet yours — the action is so slight you almost miss it.

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement of the obvious, but you still bring yourself to nod, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and hoping you could bite it hard enough to taste the iron of blood. Anything to distract you from the white hot humiliation that this conversation will bring to you. “Why?”

You inhale, knowing Tomura is not the type to let it go. Knowing he would keep you here all night if he had to so that you would speak your mind.

“Himiko…” you mutter, dropping your eyes once more as the threat of tears begin to form along your waterline.

“Himiko?” The complete confusion in his voice makes you more upset, he probably didn’t even remember what she’d said.

“What she said earlier,” your voice wavers at your words and your defeat is imminent. The tears have already broken their bounds and began to trail down your cheeks. Embarrassment be damned. “About your.. Your ex.”

You could practically see the cogs turn in his head as he recounted tonight's events — the alcohol no doubt impairing his reflexes.

His expression only makes the pit of anxiety in your gut grow, tight, but clearly showing signs of unease, “Oh, that.”

You nod, confirmation stinging.

“That was someone I dated in highschool. Back when I was a teenager for three months.” His gentle hand moves from your chin to your cheek, wiping the falling tears from your flushed cheeks. “I don’t even think she lives in Kamino anymore, and I don't care. Haven’t cared in years. It’s why we broke up.”

Your heart still feels heavy with the weight of jealousy as Tomura comforts you. It's a bitter emotion that you know you have no right to feel. This was all before you, it shouldn’t matter.

Even though you don’t meet his eyes, Tomura lets you down — your toes touching the cold hardwood of the hallway floor as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

It’s soft and it’s sweet in ways you know Tomura only reserves just for you.

“C’mon, lets go to bed,” he takes your hand in his, leading you to the bedroom you’ve grown to know so well. “I’m exhausted.”

And your heart beats in tandem with your steps as you make your way to the bed, your tears dried up as Tomura pulls you close, the warm embrace so much more soothing than you’d expected.

It takes no time for your eyes to close — your mind drifting off to sleep as the weight of your heavy heart is lifted by Tomura’s touch.

—---------------

There’s a window near Tomura’s bed.

It's big and it gives you the best view when the weather is dark and rainy. It also has a secret gift of shining the morning sunlight directly in your face and waking you up. Something that Tomura had remedied for himself by covering the window with blackout curtains.

You believe that one of you forgot to pull the curtain last night because the warm light of the sun’s rays cause you to stir from your sleep.

No, that can be ignored.

Something else is causing you to stir.

Something is making your brows furrow and your hips writhe as your lips part to pant at the feeling taking your breath away.

“W-what..” you mutter as you try to blink the sleep from your eyes, hand reaching down to investigate.

Your fingers meet the soft tresses of Tomura’s familiar locks just as his tongue makes direct contact with your clit, the feeling sending the wave of pleasure up your spine and causing you to cry out.

“Tomura..!” you cry weakly as you bury your fingers in his hair, back arching from the bed as he becomes more intentional with his actions, the excitement of waking you this way showing in his efforts.

You gasp as Tomura’s skilled tongue flicks against your sensitive bud, his hands coming forward to hold your hips in place as he relaxes against your soaked cunt — lazily lapping at your entrance as you struggle to keep yourself together.

It’s effortless, the way he pushes your body to come apart, knowing you were still fighting the remnants of sleep and fully indulging in your pleasure.

He gives your clit a soft kiss before moving to readjust on the bed, spreading your thighs wider as he watches your expression — his lips are glossy with saliva and slick, a small string of the mixture connecting him to your exposed cunt.

Tomura has seen you in many different ways, in many different situations, but to be here, exposed before him so intimately makes you want to shy away. It makes you want to look away and you bashfully attempt to close your legs.

If you were to keep going this way you may say some things you weren’t sure either of you were ready to hear.

You blame it on the morning fuzz in your brain.

There was no other explanation for the strong feelings you had within. The way they bubble along the surface of your words at every moment spent with Tomura. You know if you go longer with these feelings unchecked they would threaten to spill out and over — possibly tainting the comfort of your relationship with Tomura.

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the lewd way Tomura laps at your cunt, moaning into you as the slick muscle of his tongue pushes you further and further to your end.

Tomura is watching your every move, his carmine eyes observing the way your hips twitch at the sensations, the way you breath hitches as he sucks on your clit — everything.

You can’t help but fall into the pleasure.

Coming undone is inevitable.

You toss your head to the side, the building pressure in your abdomen causing your thighs to tense as your hand finds his soft locks once more. The grip you had on his hair was nothing short of painful with the way you held on, but Tomura took it in stride, groaning at the rough treatment.

He’s always liked when you were rougher with him.

“F-fuck, Tomura, I can’t—” your words are slurred as his tongue glides against your clit, the sensitivity heighented as your mind rushes with the strong feelings that have plagued you for months.

You gasp as the budding realization hits you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes clenched shut as the pleasure takes you over and under, dragging your muddled mind along as you come undone with Tomura’s touch.

It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him.

Fuck.

Your body shivers as you reach the end, climax overtaking you while Tomura makes it his mission to make a complete mess of you — only stopping when your twitches of pleasure begin to meld into overstimulation, causing your hand to weakly push his head away.

There were tears lining your vision as Tomura brought himself back up to meet you, slick lips seeking yours and you hungrily greet him, unbothered by your own taste gracing your tongue as you languidly lick into his mouth.

Your mind buzzed in the afterglow of an early morning orgasm and the idea of getting more from him entices you.

So much so that it makes you question why he hasn’t taken it further.

Instead, Tomura pulls away, granting you one more kiss before lying down on his side of the bed, his words beating you to the question that awaited on your tongue.

“Headache,” he supplies as you turn towards him, the morning sunlight from the window illuminates his pale tresses in an almost pastel hue — hair so white it almost looks blue. You want to reach out and touch him. “I drank more than I thought last night and arguing with Dabi doesn’t help.”

Your heart tugs at the memory, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you’ve grown to love those late weekend nights with Tomura’s friends.

“I can bring you some water,” you offer, moving to stand. Maybe a little space would be good, it will give you a minute to think about the all consuming feelings that have flooded all parts of your mind this morning. “And some meds, too.”

Tomura hums in appreciation, turning over to face away from the sun.

You take that as your cue to go, but not before grabbing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of panties. Kurogiri shouldn’t be up at this time, but it would still be odd to walk around Tomura’s home naked.

The trek to the kitchen is a short one and you waste no time grabbing an empty glass and some medication.

Kurogiri was adamant about using one of those fancy water purifiers so it’s no surprise when you’ve fully distracted yourself, filling the glass and focusing your attention on the stream of water pouring from the refrigerator’s water dispenser.

It’s so distracting that you don’t notice the presence behind you.

“Oh, what’s this?” A deep voice behind you muses, catching your attention. The sound startles you so suddenly that you almost drop the glass of water. “Playing house now, are we?”

That doesn’t sound like Kurogiri, your thoughts race as you slowly turn to meet the mysterious voice of the man in question.

He is… intimidating.

He stands no less than twice your height with ashen hair that rivals Tomura’s. His eyes are even the same deep crimson of the boy you’ve grown to know so well. He eyes you with a tight smile, never straying from your gaze.

This must be—

“Are you Tomura’s friend?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, but you will yourself to speak. If this is who you think it is then it would be a bad idea to leave an impression worse than what you already have. “Yes.”

“I see. Would you be a dear and fetch him for me? I have a few words for him.” His tone is solid — even.

You couldn’t make out how he felt in this moment if you tried. The small smile on his face seems pleasant, but given the circumstances of a half naked girl in what you can only assume to be his home really brings you no peace.

So you nod again, hurrying off with the glass of water in your hand, forgoing the medicine and only wanting to be as far away from that man as possible. Something about him strikes fear into you.

Tomura is in the same spot you left him before your kitchen adventure, but he cracks an eye open at the sound of you closing his bedroom door with a little too much force.

“What’s wrong?” he drags, turning over to face you and squinting as he gets hit directly in the face by the sun’s rays. You should really close that curtain soon.

The walk to him is short and you hand him the glass of water, bottom lip worried between your teeth as you search your mind for the right words.

“Someone’s here.” You didn’t mean to opt for an ominous choice, but you had no other idea what to say. Tomura has never talked about his parents.

“What?”

“There’s a man in the kitchen. He wants to see you.”

This seems to click for Tomura as his eyes narrow for a second and then widen, ever so slightly, at the realization.

You don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He sucks his teeth, taking the glass from your hand and downing the water as you watch on. Tomura seems calm, but he also has a very good poker face. If this is his parent then you’re not sure how long you would be able to stay.

The idea of going back makes you shiver.

No, that’s not really an option.

Tomura moves to stand, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and shirt, frustration evident in the way he tosses his clothes on.

He gives you one more turn, words tight and brows downturned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod as he exits, leaving you alone in the silence of his bedroom. The beaming sun seems more comfortable than before, the warm rays dance along your skin as you play through every scenario that could come from their talk.

He could make you leave.

That's the first and most obvious way to handle this situation. You know that your parents would never in a million years allow someone to stay under their roof with their daughter. It’s unheard of.

Or worse, he could call your parents.

You’ve gone completely no contact at this point and it wouldn’t be too much of a farfetched idea that this man would call them. Especially if Tomura tells him about your situation in full.

But… he could be a nice guy.

This could all be a big misunderstanding and blow over, if given enough time. This is more of a pipedream than a genuine idea, but you would go crazy if you only thought of the negatives.

You don’t realize you’ve been pacing the room until you almost trip over a discarded shirt on Tomura’s floor. It stops you in your tracks and makes you look around to assess the state of his room.

It's not perfect and it definitely needed work when you moved in, but it’s not terrible.

You turn back to the door, as if Tomura would come bursting through with updates of the conversation at hand, but no. nothing has happened. Nothing has changed.

The quiet of the room drives you crazy — there has to be something you can do.

It starts off small, picking up a few loose articles of clothing here and there, and then it delves into picking up empty drink cans, making the bed, and even sorting the mess of his closet. All in the name of passing time.

By the time Tomura made his way back to the room, you have the space nearly spotless. He takes note, but refrains from commenting. Instead his next words shock you.

“He said you can stay.”

Your brows furrow. “I can?”

Tomura only nods, making his way back to his newly made bed and lying down once more, no doubt due to the headache still pounding against his skull.

“That’s it?” you press — this all feels too easy.

“Yeah, just wear pants more often.” He waves you off, turning over and gearing up to go back to sleep.

The comment makes your cheeks burn and you nod, even though Tomura can’t see it.

It feels odd, especially knowing your parents would never allow this, but you suppose not everyone lived under such strict conditions.

So instead, you push that uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut aside and climb into bed with Tomura.

His steady breathing is calming and the rhythmic sound helps you drift off as well, unable to shake the lingering of suspicion and uncertainty, ebbing away in the back of your mind.

—-----------

You’ve come to learn that Tomura is actually quite busy during the day.

He is currently gearing up to go to his internship at the hospital, and it’s been taking up a chunk of his time lately. For a couple months he’s had a break from it since the doctor he had worked under was taking time away, but now he’s back and he wants Tomura to be busier than ever.

It’s not that you mind. Of course you knew Tomura’s life couldn’t revolve around you, but it still left you with not very much to do.

On the days he has to go, you stay at home — your attention hopping from playing video games on his pc, to reading books then eventually cleaning.

It's given you a lot of time to think about what you want for your own career. You’ve started to think long and hard about how you envision your future. The reason you were home from college in the first place was because you needed the time to think.

But now you have nothing but time and it feels even more stressful.

The thought of having to decide your entire future on a whim is daunting.

What if you didn’t like where you were in five years? Could you start over?

Would Tomura still be by your side?

That possibility catches you off guard as you stop in your tracks.

Would he be by your side?

You’ve never been in a relationship at all, especially not a long term one. You were all in, but how does Tomura feel? Would it be odd to ask?

The plaguing thoughts seem to take root in your mind as you walk through the halls of Tomura’s home, hoping to find something to occupy your time and chase these feelings away.

You think of the basement, it’s where the other gaming systems were set up and it’s also a good change of scenery.

Yeah, that would take your mind off of it.

Or it would have.

As you set your sights on the hallway that leads to the basement, there's a voice that catches your attention. It’s deep and ever so calm, even when strained by the words being spoken.

“That's not good enough. I told you to keep him there as much as you can.” The voice hisses to the person on the other line of what you can assume is a phone call.

You stop in your tracks, just before you could pass the door of the room Shigaraki Senior was speaking from. Instead you listen in, putting your back to the wall beside the door and zoning in on his words.

“I don’t care how fast he tries to get the work done — he’s only doing that to get home sooner.” He pauses and takes a breath, frustration imminent. “I need them apart. He won't listen to me about it, but the sooner he gets bored of her, the better. I don’t have time for his little distractions.”

You have to bite back a gasp as the words ring in your ears.

A distraction..? You knew it was too good to be true.

“Right,” the voice carries on, calling your attention once more, “I understand, but if he is to be the next me he cannot afford to get sidetracked.”

You haven’t had much of a chance to get to know the head of the household, instead preferring to stick by Tomura and make yourself as unobtrusive as possible.

It felt as though you were walking on eggshells. As if you were in an orientation period and any misstep would lead to you tossed out onto the street — you would be food for the wolves.

But you knew deep down that there was always something to worry about. It was too good to be true, yes, but you couldn’t understand why he was letting you stay anyway.

There's a lull in the conversation before it picks up again.

“I suppose…” The man’s voice sounds like it's getting closer and you take that as your cue to go back to Tomura’s room — but not before you catch the sound of his parting words. “It seems I'll just have to try harder then, hm?”

You don't know what kind of games this man was going to play but you knew one thing.

You had to tell Tomura.

—-----------

It doesn't go well.

“No, Tomura, I heard him,” you whisper, the harsh sound of your voice cutting through the dark room, the curtains blocking the light of the incoming dawn as Tomura began getting ready for another day at the hospital, “talking about us.”

You look down, arms crossed and defensive. “He wants us to break up — and he thinks you’ll do it on your own.”

Tomura’s expression is a mix of shock and disbelief, probably unsure of why his father would ever want him to break up with someone who brings him so much joy.

“No, there’s no way.”

“I’m telling the truth.” you plead, putting on your best voice of reason.

“He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.” His tone is snappy, clearly ready for this conversation to end.

But you persist. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know — why would you?” He shoots back and the retort makes your ears perk.

“I would never lie to you, Tomura, I—”

“Just stop,” he holds up his hand and the shock of it makes halt in your tracks. You’ve never seen him this agitated, or irate. “You don’t even know him.”

But I don't have to know him, the words echo in your mind, stuck on your tongue as you watch Tomura continue, one hand to his neck as he etched his bad habit into his skin.

He was starting to spiral.

“You’re not even giving him a chance! I know he wouldn’t do that — he cares about me! He's the only one who—” Tomura stops himself, frustration leading him down avenues you don't think he’s walked in years.

You reach a hand out, aiming to comfort his ravenous habit, aching to tell him what’s really been eating away at your emotions for the last few weeks, but Tomura only scowls, the harsh look so intense it makes you snatch your hand back.

He’s never looked at you with such disdain before.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later.” His tone is final as he turns towards the door and you watch as he takes a breath to calm himself down, lowering his hand from his now redded neck.

Your chest feels tight, words fighting on your tongue to admit what you’d been holding within. It’s eating you up inside how strong these feelings were. “Tomura, wait— I didn't mean to upset you.”

He pays you a glance, expression neutral and features school back to their default calm. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more in the room that you’ve both begun to grow into. The desperate feeling in your chest fights for your undivided attention and you're beginning to wonder how long you can keep it at bay.

—----------

The night doesn’t feel any better.

Tomura’s return brings the tension from this morning and you’re positive he didn’t have the best day during his internship. It pushes the pressure between you further.

The air feels thick as you both move about in his room — you, scanning the books along his bookshelf for another manga to read, and Tomura on the floor with his notes from the day spread out in front of him.

Luckily for you, Tomura breaks the silence.

“There’s a dinner tonight — my father wants us both there.”

This piques your interest, eyes darting to his tense form. “Like a fancy dinner?”

Tomura shakes his head, adjusting the papers below with a bit too much force. He takes one flyer and balls it up, tossing it into the trash can near his desk as if the paper offended him. It’s crumpled, but you can still make out the words: Almighty Medicine.

“No, it’s just with us. Kurogiri will cook.” He pauses, features pensive as he decides his next words. “He wants to get to know you.”

Your heart sinks.

It sounds like a trap.

But you really didn’t want a repeat of this morning, so instead you suck it up and nod — even though Tomura couldn't see you. His gaze was completely focused on the papers below. His shoulders were stiff as he slouched to halfheartedly read the notes. You debate giving him some kind of massage to ease the edge.

You refrain, choosing to wait it out a bit more. The last thing you want is to stress him even more before the last minute dinner.

So with a resigned sigh you answer, “Okay.”

—---------

Kurogiri is a good cook.

It's the only thought in your mind as you absently stare at the food plated before you. Dinner tonight was filled with flavorful meats and vibrant vegetables. The rice was a perfect accent to the other options and any other time you would find yourself eager to dig in.

But not tonight.

No, tonight you can’t seem to find your appetite.

You only push your cabbage back and forth with your chopsticks and await the inevitable questions you're sure Shigaraki Senior will ask.

“Tomura,” his baritone voice breaks the silence and you focus more on your cabbage, “you seem tense. What’s the matter.”

There’s a pause, and Shigaraki Senior’s faux friendly demeanor is not lost on you. “I saw that asshole again today. His face pisses me off.”

His father frowns. “Yes, well. That’s just business. When you’re over the company you won’t have to see him—“

“That’s not the problem!” Tomura cuts him off and you hold your breath, you could never raise your voice at home, “He leads his hospital and he’s a provider.”

“And that is not the path I have laid out for you.” The words are calm and collected, no hint of malice or anger. It’s eerily calm.

“Yeah, whatever. When are you going on that business trip again?” Tomura snaps.

The tension in the air is suffocating, it's thick and it's tense. It makes you want to run away, your feet anxiously tapping as you will yourself to bite down the uneasy feeling.

The slow smile that creeps its way onto his father’s face makes your skin crawl. “You know, I believe I have more important matters to handle here at our home and in our town.”

“Great.” The sarcasm is evident in Tomura’s voice, dripping into the already strained air.

“Well, that’s enough about our family matters... how about you, young lady.” His sharp eyes catch yours and you feel like a deer in headlights. “How are your parents? Do they know you’re here with my boy?”

You feel struck by his words, the pang in your stomach reverberating through your body as you scramble to find the words to answer him. “Well—”

“They’re aware.” Tomura cuts you off, his glare is ice as he places his chopsticks down and leans back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

It seemed to be a challenge, one you are not prepared to back him up on.

You were never a good liar.

His father’s attention is snapped back to Tomura and you were sure anyone else would falter under that glare.

“Really? If it were my boy off staying with some young girl I would want to at least get to know the one who’s paying the bills.”

He only shrugs in response, false air of disinterest apparent as he picks his chopsticks up again, picking away at his food once more. “Well it’s a good thing she isn’t your child then, huh.”

You think the conversation is over — that Tomura has successfully dodged this bullet and you will be allowed a peaceful dinner, but things were never that easy for you.

“I think we should give them a call, hm? If she’s staying in my home I want to make sure they know all the details.”

You watch Tomura’s fingers twitch, irritation threatening to explode and you can’t help but think that’s exactly what his father wants to see.

It’s toxic, in a whole new way.

“Fine,” Tomura surprises you, your eyes cut to his stiff form, “since you’re so worried why don’t you go ahead and do it. I don’t get why you care so much anyway.”

His father seems unimpressed — that smile and those chilling eyes frighten you, it makes your blood feel like ice in your veins. “You’re right, Tomura. I shouldn’t care. And you know what? I won’t.”

You both look up, dumbfounded.

“I won’t care unless you both give me a reason to care. How does that sound?”

It sounds fantastic, in theory, but you know that it doesn’t matter how it sounds.

It’s blackmail.

The reality of the situation hits you then and there.

Tomura is combative with his father because he can be.

“I think that’s a fair trade, don't you, Tomura?”

But only to a certain extent.

Your eyes dart between the two of them as the weight of his words set in. Tomura is forced to comply — agree to his fathers terms or else. This is a battlefield you aren't familiar with — one of mind games and bad faith practices.

It is naive to think Shigaraki Senior will be sensible in what he decides are good reasons.

Your time here was limited.

The end of dinner was as stressful as its start: tense, awkward and very foreboding.

The stress of it all had Tomura pacing his room while you helplessly sat on the bed fighting the urge to tell him I told you so — that would help no one here.

“This is bullshit!” he starts, the frustration of his thoughts coming to a head and spilling out. “Give me a reason, yeah, whatever.”

Your brows furrow as you watch Tomura vent, his bitter words hanging in the air as you purse your lips — trying and failing to come up with any kind of solution for your situation.

“And why does it even matter that you're here? He’s hardly here anyway!” The perturbing scratching habit has made its return and this time you do stand to your feet, marching over to where Tomura paced and taking his hand.

As upsetting as this situation was, you knew that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if tomura destroyed himself in the process of understanding his father’s true intentions.

“Hey,” you try, reaching for his hand and refusing to back down this time. “We’ll figure something out.”

You’re surprised when he lets you, his carmine eyes lock with yours as his ever present scowl remains unchanged. “Yeah, like what?”

You try to ignore the cross tone in his voice, opting to just hold his hand and try again. You're beginning to realize this is uncharted territory for both of you.

“I don’t know, who was the guy you saw at your internship? The one who runs the other hospital and all? Maybe you could ask how he—”

“I am not doing that.” Tomura cuts you off, voice even more agitated.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you ignore his tone. You squeeze his hand instead, still trying to remain calm. “But you never know, Tomura. Maybe he could help you—”

“No! Why would I ask him of all people?” He snatches his hand away and you realize you’ve struck a nerve.

This wouldn’t end well.

“You don’t even know who he is, you don’t know what he’s done!” His voice begins to rise and you wonder if he’s aware of the hurt lining his words. There is a hidden history in this mystery man that Tomura has foregone informing you of.

You’re beginning to recognize a pattern — something about that fact gets under your skin.

“Maybe I would if you actually told me anything about your life, Tomura! You’ve barely let me in at all!”

And it’s true.

You knew nothing about his father, he doesn't talk to you about his internship and you don’t even know who this mystery super provider is. You’ve been in the dark for a while and you’re tired of it.

“And why should I do that?” He questions, becoming more and more defensive as the conversation carries on. “So you can use it against me?”

“What?” you gasp, baffled by his accusation. “Why would I ever do that?”

“I don’t know! Why else would you fucking care?”

“I care because I love you, dumbass!”

Both of you freeze.

You didn’t want it to come out this way.

You wanted the confession to be one of candied words and hushed whispers. You wanted it to be slow and romantic, maybe while Tomura was deep inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you see stars.

But things were never ordinary when you were dating a man like Tomura Shigaraki.

In that moment you realize that maybe this was something you were willing to learn to live with.

“What,” Tomura’s voice is low as if speaking louder would shatter the still air within the room, “what did you just say?”

Your breath hitches, the buzz of anxiety and anticipation makes you hesitate. “I said.. I love you, Tomura.”

He takes a step forward, it’s slow but sure. You remain stagnant and still.

“Say it again.”

You do.

“I love you, Tomura.” The words are warm as they leave your lips and now he stands before you, his height forcing you to look up at him.

His carmine eyes shine with unbridled fervor that seems to be itching to make itself known.

You want to see him lose control.

So with a slow smile, you gear up to say it again, “I love y—“

You’re cut off by the press of Tomura’s lips against yours and the desperation in it pushes you back. Tomura is fast, pulling you closer to stop you from losing your balance. You feel lightweight as you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

It’s intoxicating the way he maneuvers you, the way he makes you melt into the kiss, desperate for more — and he gives it to you.

His hands trail up your sides and back down to grip your ass. The action makes you gasp and Tomura wastes no time taking advantage of the opportunity, his tongue dominating your mouth as the heat between your thighs grows.

You moan into the kiss and lean forward as Tomura begins to pull away.

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he gazes down at you, lazy grin on his face.

There isn’t much time to mull over what Tomura was thinking, he takes your confusion in stride, using the opportunity to push you back, bottom landing onto the bed and bouncing once with the force of impact.

Before you can speak, Tomura is on you, lips against yours and pushing you down onto his dark sheets. You bring a hand to those familiar pale locks and close your eyes — allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling and finally release the pent up energy of your emotions.

Tomura is quick, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts and dragging them down with your panties in tow and leaving you exposed before him.

You gasp at the gentle touch of his index finger slipping between your slick folds and going no further.

“Tomura…” you try, pulling away from the kiss and hoping the hunger in your voice would be enough for him to continue.

He only gazes at you, eyes half lidded yet vibrant. You’re sure he’s put you in a trance.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.” you breathe and then gasp as he finally touches you.

His finger is gentle as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, the action makes your head feel fuzzy as the pleasure begins to rise.

Tomura leans forward to press kisses against the column of your neck, nipping and sucking along the soft flesh — no doubt trying to leave deep marks into your skin.

“Mm!” you squeeze your eyes shut as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to his movements and slowly bringing you closer to the edge. Tomura is steady with his hands, he knows your body so well. From the inside and out so he knows that if he continues at this pace you would come undone way before you wanted to.

Maybe that's what he was aiming for.

His other hand is warm as he cups your breast, tweaking a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, knowing it drives you crazy. You feel dizzy as his fingers leave your clit and travel lower to your entrance, pressing not one, but two fingers inside and chuckling at your whine.

“What?” he teases, pumping the digits in and out as you writhe beneath him, “too much?”

You want to shake your head, tell him no, and that it's never too much when it comes to him, but the only thing you can manage is a pathetic whimper as you grip his dark shirt. “Please, Tomura.”

“Please, what?” you can feel his grin against your neck as he places another open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “You gotta talk to me, baby.”

“T-touch me,” you plead.

He moves up so that he’s eye to eye with you once more. The grin on his face was just as you imagined it, smug and excited. “I am touching you.”

You close your eyes again, knowing exactly what he wants you to say. “Make me feel good, Tomura. Please.”

He likes that answer, you can tell by the way his eyes soften and his fingers twitch ever so slightly within you.

Tomura leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss once more as he moves his fingers with purpose, his thumb now pressing against your clit as the sensation grows.

It's hard to contain your cries, but you try. His fathers words echoing in the back of your mind — the possibility of loud sex with his son being a reason to kick you out almost makes you laugh.

At this point it would probably be worth it.

“F-fuck,” you breathe as you lean into the feeling, your eyes flutter closed as you bring Tomura closer. Your peak is so, so close you can almost taste it.

Tomura would tease you any other time. He would try to drag it out in an attempt to see you squirm, but tonight he’s being so kind. He is so generous as he brushes against that spot inside that drives you crazy. He does it over and over again, making your toes curl in pleasure as the euphoric feeling takes you over the edge.

The elation of your orgasm makes you shiver and cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you lose yourself in him.

Tomura presses another kiss to your sweet lips, swallowing your moans as you cum on his fingers, soaking the digits in your slick and trembling in pleasure,

Once you come down from your high Tomura is quick to remove his clothes and you follow his lead, finally removing your shirt.

The feeling of his warm chest against yours is always so comforting. It brings a feeling of safety and security as he presses against you, his cock rock hard and dripping from the excitement earlier.��

He places a chaste kiss against your lips as he rubs the head of his cock between your slick folds, the glide is smooth and you gasp every time he brushes against your clit. Your hands find his soft locks again as you begin to move in tandem with his actions, trying to get more of the feeling as best you can.

At this, Tomura pulls away, kiss swollen lips red and eyes soft, his words hold no bite, “Desperate, huh?”

You nod, in no mood to tease back and Tomura can tell. He feels it in the way you look at him, so he presses his forehead against yours, his pale locks falling against your cheeks.

“Again, tell it to me again.”

And you know what he’s talking about. You’re both so close, chest to chest and you swore your hearts were beating in tandem.

“I love you, Tomura.” you whisper and it's for his ears only.

Tomura groans, closing his eyes with a soft grin on his lips.

“Fuck…” he breathes against you, and that’s all it takes as he presses into you. The stretch of his cock makes you wince, but the smooth slick of your arousal helps him slide in with ease.

You hold on and allow Tomura to anchor you as he pushes forward, desperate to give you everything he can.

He bottoms out with a sigh, filling you completely as you bite your lip in anticipation — the pressure of feeling full is addictive. It doesn't take Tomura long to move, his eagerness impossible to hide as he pulls back, almost pulling out, and drives forward, rough and desperate.

It’s everything you've wanted and your body is greedy as you take in all of him.

“Yes, Tomura!” You fight to keep your voice down but it proves impossible as Tomura sets a brutal pace, fucking out every ounce of tension he’s held within for the past few days. You can feel it as it unravels with each and every trust.

Tomura adjusts ever so slightly and that's all it takes for him to hit that special place inside of you.

“A-ah!” You moan underneath him, ripples of pleasure cascading up your spine as his sharp assault on your sensitive spot carries on. The consistent sparks of pleasure have your brows furrowed and legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to pull him closer, to feel him deeper.

“Fuck,” Tomura mumbles and his low tone makes you shiver.

You know that you won't last much longer if he keeps this up, but you give up trying to hold back. You cannot stop the way your cries spill from your lips, echoing against the walls of Tomura’s bedroom and mixing with the sound of his urgent trusts.

The lewd noises rise as your cunt drips with arousal against Tomura’s push and pull thrusts. His heavy balls slap against your ass with the force of them and you close your eyes, falling into the rhythm.

You dont expect it when it happens, but it comes all the same — your orgasm takes you under, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy capturing your mind as your lover fucks you through it.

He groans at the sensations, the way your cunt squeezes him almost sends him over with you, but he holds on.

Tomura lowers himself, slowing down as you ride out your high and his lips are close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he starts and you feel his hips stutter as he tries to regain his pace, sending you into overstimulation. Tomura knows you can take it — and he can’t stop now. He was so close to his peak. “L-love you.. So much..”

The words make your eyes widen, they are soft and slow as if unspoken for years and you can’t help but wonder how many.

“Tomura..” you whisper as you turn your head, craving his lips and his gaze.

Your eyes meet and you feel synced as you bring a hand down to his cheek, your heart racing as he leans into your touch.

Yes, you love him. Truly and deeply, you love Tomura.

He pushes forward, capturing your lips in a kiss as his thrusts grow more erratic, hungry for his own release as he groans against your lips.

It doesn’t take long — Tomura gives a few more strong thrusts and meets his end, cumming inside of you with a mewl that you drink up. The twitch of his cock is subtle but the pearly white ropes fill you to the brim, leaving you ruined and raw as he pumps it as deeply as he could.

Tomura pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Sweaty and sated you both try to catch your breath.

His bedroom is quiet and still, making you both feel as though you were the only two in the world. You know that it is deep into the night and Tomura would still have to wake up early in the morning, but you know none of that matters to him.

No, Tomura couldn't care less as shares this moment with you, the stress finally expelled from his body and the weight lifted from his mind.

His carmine eyes hold you captive as you melt into them and you realize then that you can’t see yourself anywhere but here — with Tomura.

It's a chilling realization.

Once you’ve both gathered your bearings and Tomura pulls out — taking his rightful place beside you, the overwhelming pull of sleep drags you along.

Tomura leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead with whispers of goodnight and his newly relaxed demeanor is contagious.

You know that you may be on borrowed time with him here, but that's okay.

Your eyes catch the crumpled flyer hanging near the trashcan by his desk, the words Almighty Medicine big and bold on the paper.

The feeling of sleep is heavy in your body, but your last thoughts are of a plan.

You know there’s a way out of here.

For both of you.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x you #my hero academia #tomura x reader #my works

570 notes · View notes

sushirrrry · 2 months ago

Text

pulse. a harry styles one-shot; 12k words. the one where harry goes with his best friend, jack, and jack's little sister, charli to a music festival. CW: language, explicit sexual content (fingering, squirting, intercourse), explicit drug use

“And that’s when I knew I wanted to save the world, one fire at a time.”

The looks from the girls in front of them were flourished with admiration, maybe a bit of chaos and something that was a bit more addictive than that. But Jack was pushing his shoulder into Harry as they stood there, trying his best to play the wingman that Harry had desperately tried to dismiss the entire situation.

Harry held the bottle between his fingers, lifting it to take a sip as the morning sun rounded out into the cloudless sky. The tension in his back was killing him, his eyes were a bit heavy at the way that he tossed and turned all night from laying on the ground.

“But my guy here,” Jack took his hand on Harry’s shoulder to bring his attention back, “This guy saves more than just lives— he’s preserving the art in the minds of children.”

Jack was laying it on heavy, building up every detail of Harry’s life to mean much more than it was. Harry being a primary school music teacher wasn’t anything that was new and exciting in the real world. Jack made it sound much, much more delicate, and necessary than it was.

The two girl’s faces were astonished by the fact, one staring at Harry until he caught her eye. He smiled sheepishly at the fact, nodding a few times to confirm with what Jack had been saying before he turned his head to notice someone coming from one of the tents in their small camp.

Her hair was long and untouched, small braids still placed in her hair as she placed sunglasses over her eyes. The night before was a bit too rough on them; Harry was aware that the second day usually felt worse than the first. He couldn’t seem to turn his head away as he watched her diligently try to unscrew the top of her water bottle, almost as if her muscles had turned to mush.

Harry took it upon himself to move towards her, taking himself out of the conversation before she saw him coming.

“Need some help with that?” He offered. His own hand holding a beer as Charli held out her bottle towards him with a small grunt.

“I don’t know how you’re drinking that without gagging.” Her voice was rough, hoarse, as she cleared her throat.

Charli took a seat under the small pavilion that their group had set up; her seat now in a foldable chair as she slinked into it. The large t-shirt covering her chest and her pajama shorts that resembled boxers were nicely matched with the tall, rain boots that she had been wearing around their small camp as the dust and dirt seemed to be kicked up.

Harry took the water bottle from her hand, holding his beer against his chest as he multitasked to unscrew the top lid.

“I didn’t take any shots of lemonade vodka, and I drank a bunch of water before bed. That might have helped a bit.” Harry smiled at her; his eyes not being able to relay the affection that they may have had behind the dark sunglasses on his face. The backwards hat sat on head while the bandana around his neck helped to shield the morning sun.

He didn’t want to stare; he knew that his sunglasses had been blocking the obvious, though.

“You look good for someone who’s probably one sip of water shy of dying, I have to say.” Harry shrugged, watching as she took a few sips from the bottle he had opened for her. The look on her face showed a bit of thankfulness of him obviously giving her some pity.

“I don’t think that sleeping in tents is necessarily my thing,” Charli shook her head, knowingly hating camping to an obvious degree, but wanting to find herself in these experiences that pushed her boundaries.

That was the whole reason that she was here in the first place. Charli was always the little sister that wanted to keep up; she wanted to do everything that Jack did, and she knew that she could if he would just let her participate. When this summer festival came around, Charli asked her friend Rena to book a ticket to come with her—knowing that Jack and Harry would say no to it.

Harry and Jack went to festivals all year—they frequented this one in Spain every year and had become quite close with a bunch of other people who had traveled in for it. But this time, Charli wanted to just insert herself into the situation so neither of them could deny her entry, or her company.

Jack and Charli were close, but that did not mean that he wanted to watch her dance around at a festival and get herself into trouble. Neither did Harry, really.

But something had changed a bit. Harry hadn’t seen Charli in a year or so. He hadn’t spoken to her or hung out with her enough to notice the changes in her personality, her being, her looks. She was older now; she wasn’t the little teenage sister that tried to slip into the car every time they would head to the mall or to grab a bite to eat.

She was always beautiful, there was no denying that. But Harry found himself blushing at her remarks, stopping himself from staring at the way clothes hung off her body, and tried to deny himself from watching as she danced with her friend while trying to entertain the other men standing behind them.

Charli had always just been Jack’s little sister.

Sometime between the lines, it had taken a turn, though. Harry had looked at Charli one day and noticed that her eyes struck a match, his heart started to race a bit faster than usual, his eyes stared to wander, his palms became a bit sweatier than normal.

Instead, he tried his best to remain subtle—not wanting to say anything different, but just allowing the weekend to go along.

After the awkward teenage years when they would go on family holiday’s, Harry would always think Charli was quite funny—she was witty and dry with her humor, but it always intrigued him to some degree. And she had always been very good at Pictionary, which Harry found hilarious.

Now, it was different. Now, Harry found himself staring longer, harder. But it must’ve just been the heat, he thought.

“You look like shit,” Jack had mentioned, coming from behind Harry as he looked at his little sister, “Festival already got the best of you lot already, hm?”

When Charli had approached Jack to wanting to go to this festival in Spain, Jack and Harry had already made plans with their friends to go. Jack, being her older brother, had shown some apprehension considering he knew that Charli and Rena had never done anything like this before. They were freshly in university, a few years younger than Harry and Jack.

“Don’t be fucking annoying,” Charli said to Jack, rubbing her forehead, “We’re just hungover—it’s nothing unusual and we aren’t used to the bit of heat all the time. We’ll be okay.”

Harry’s lip turned up on the side, but his attention as brought back to Jack who hit him on the chest.

“What was that for?” Harry asked, a bit taken back by the action as he rubbed the site where he had been hit.

“Mate, you totally walked away from those two birds, left me in the dust,” Jack turned his head to try and locate them, craning his neck, “The blonde was totally into you. They were having a kickback before heading back into the grounds tonight.”

Harry focused on the beer in his hands, finishing the first one of the days before he threw it over to the small pile of garbage that they had started to collect.

“Dunno—not super interested,” Harry shrugged, but Jack gave him a strong look of disapproval.

“Not interested? In what? You not interested?” The confusion was taking over him as the three of them sat in the small, confined area. Harry poked his tongue into his cheek before he tried to think of how to get Jack to stop talking.

He didn’t care that Charli would hear how Jack talked about him—surely, she could figure out his habits on her own, but he didn’t necessarily want them repeated. Of course they had had fun at festivals in the past. But there was a small amount of embarrassment that sat on his chest as he felt the judgement pour off from Charli’s facial expression.

“It’s like, a girl’s rite of passage to hook up with you at a festival once.” Jack chuckled, grabbing his own beer from the fridge before popping open the cap, looking over at Charli. “Better keep Rena away from him tonight or he may go mad with the wandering hands.”

Charli smirked at the comment, “I’m not keeping anyone away from anyone else. Maybe she wants someone’s wandering hands.”

Jack chuckled at the comment, Harry rolled his eyes with the smile steady on his face.

The three of them sat around, making themselves a few sandwiches for breakfast—Harry brought bagels for them to share. They sat in a circle, eating and talking about the day ahead of them. The heat hadn’t really started to become an issue; it was quite nice in the shade unless you were in the direct sunlight.

The day took them into night—getting ready in their tents, while simultaneously letting the party get started. Jack and Charli were significantly more into drinking than Harry was; he kept a steady buzz with the beers that he had brought, but he let general buzz of the alcohol mixed perfectly with the contentment of the weed, too.

Jack had always made fun of Harry in the best way because he always knew how to have the best time, making sure that everyone else was having the best time around him. It was a rare kind of person who knew his own limits but was able to let the people surrounding him in on the most significant adventure of a lifetime.

Harry didn’t add much to what he was wearing except a bandana around his neck to keep the dust low. His sunglasses hung from his shirt, the backwards hat shieled his neck from the hot afternoon sun. The Adidas sneakers were dusty and worn, his shorts and t-shirt were moderately hot from the dark colors that absorbed the heat.

But it was when Charli and Rena came out of their tent that his eyes tried their best to look away—failing miserably, he knew.

Her perfectly sun-kissed skin with patches of redness that he just knew would burn to the touch with spots of freckles that accompanied, the dark curls that cascaded down her back with micro-braids that were misplaced, her top was practically irrelevant as it hung from her shoulders and tied around her back with just a simple string.

It was all that it took for him not to combust. He tried to remind himself: it’s Charli. Something about that sentiment stopped working like it had before.

The group was a bit larger now; there were many more people around to involve and take his attention. He watched as Charli and Rena had found the attention that both had been looking for. A few different guys who looked more their age had started to make their way around them. Charli and Rena took a few shots, their energy had increased drastically with a mid-day nap and some blush to help elevate themselves.

When they started to move their way towards the stages and grounds, Harry had packed himself what he needed in his pockets—a few joints, a baggie with other worldly possibilities, and a lighter. Everything he could have needed.

The bass pounded relentlessly, a constant thrum that seemed to reverberate in Harry’s chest, matching the wild, erratic beat of his heart. The music festival was a sensory overload—lights that dazzled, bodies that pressed in from all sides, and a heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and something else altogether more intoxicating the longer he stood and watched. It was almost as if he had been placed into another world; his brain would have convinced him, otherwise.

Charli.

She moved like a force of nature through the crowd, her every step drawing his gaze, every laugh tightening the coil of desire in his chest.

She was supposed to be off-limits, a hard line he’d promised himself never to cross. But tonight, with the flashing lights painting her skin in shades of electric blue and purple from the neon lights that threatened him with desire, Harry could barely remember why.

It wasn’t just the way she looked, although that was enough to drive any man to the edge. Her outfit—a slinky, black top paired with high-waisted micro-shorts—revealed just enough to set his imagination on fire yet left enough to keep him burning. It was the way she moved, all easy confidence, as if she knew exactly the effect she had on him, and maybe she did. The sway of her hips, the way her curls bounced with each step.

It was all fun and games until her eyes sought him out in the crowd—it all added to the tightrope tension between them that he hadn’t been sure was there before.

He shouldn’t be here, standing this close to her, watching her with hungry eyes while pretending that he didn’t want to touch her, taste her. But here he was, and there she was, her presence overwhelming every shred of common sense he had left.

She caught him staring—again—and shot him a look over her shoulder that made his pulse skip. Harry wasn’t sure that she had been looking at him, either. He wasn’t sure if he was misreading the signs; maybe she was just looking past him.

But that smile, playful and knowing, was his undoing. It was like she could see right through him, could tell that he was a hairsbreadth away from losing all control that he had. And maybe she liked it, liked knowing she had him wrapped around her little finger.

When she slipped through the crowd, it was like slow-motion. She was turning her head just enough to signal him to follow, and he didn’t hesitate in the slightest bit. It was almost an innate reaction to her; she walked, he followed. His feet moved of their own accord, pushing past bodies until he was right behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. She led him away from the main stage to a more secluded spot where the music was a distant pulse, and the crowd thinned out. The darkness here was thicker, the lights softer, casting long shadows.

Charli stopped abruptly, turning to face him, and he nearly collided with her. The sudden proximity knocked the breath out of him. Her chest brushed against his as she looked up at him through her lashes, eyes dark and inviting.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she teased, her voice soft but laced with something that made his blood run hot. “Something on your mind?”

“More than a few things,” Harry replied, his voice rough, strained. Her scent was everywhere, a mix of something sweet and sharp, mingling with the night air, making it hard to think about anything other than how close she was. He could reach out, just a little, and—

No. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

But then she tilted her head, and that damned smile returned, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “Like what?” she asked, her tone daring him to say it, to cross that line they both knew was there.

He clenched his fists, shoving them deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her. Instead, he pulled out the joint he’d rolled earlier, holding it between them as a distraction, a lifeline.

“Like this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Want some?”

Charli’s eyes flicked down to the joint, then back up to him, and the look in them was nothing short of wicked.

“Sure,” she murmured, stepping even closer, until there was no space left between them. Her fingers brushed against his as she took the joint from his hand, the contact sending a jolt of electricity straight through him.

He watched, mesmerized, as she brought it to her lips. Her eyes glanced up at him with few blinks before Harry’s hand cuffed around the spliff to light it as it sat between her lips.

The motion was slow, deliberate, and his gaze was locked on her mouth, on the way her lips wrapped around the end of the joint, the way she inhaled deeply, then exhaled a plume of smoke that curled in the cool night air. Her eyes never left his, and there was something in them, something hot and dangerous, that made his pulse quicken.

When she passed the joint back to him, their fingers lingered, the touch just a little too long to be accidental. Harry took it, barely feeling it between his fingers, all his senses focused on the heat of her body so close to his. He took a drag, more out of necessity than desire, needing something to calm the riot of emotions inside him. But it didn’t help. If anything, it made the world spin faster, the edges of his control fraying with each second that passed.

“Having a good time so far?” Harry asked her, watching as she waited for him to pass it back to her. When he did, she took it gratefully and took another puff herself.

“Definitely. I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I think. So much going on, the music just—you can feel it in your bones. You can really—yeah, I don’t know, I just feel really, really good.” Her voice was sharp, but it had a bit of slurring to it. He knew that the dehydration and overall adrenaline would send her into overdrive if she kept up the pace of her habits. He took the joint away from her this time, wanting to keep her from overdoing it.

It was obvious—the way that she moved closer to him when he would take another step back. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, but he had watched her take only a few drinks before getting here tonight. It was obvious that they were getting high on something stronger than any of the substances combined.

Harry cleared his throat, letting their eyes linger on one another for a long moment—much longer than he had anticipated, but when her lips parted for a moment, he shifted on his feet.

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, not entirely sure if he was talking about the joint or the way they were practically pressed up against each other, the space between them crackling with unspoken tension.

Charli took a step closer, closing whatever distance was left between them. Her body was almost flush against his now, her breath warm against his neck as she leaned in. “Doing what?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so innocent, and yet so full of intent that it made his head swim.

“You know this is just some infatuated fantasy shit, right?” Harry’s voice was low, “Your signals—your messages. You don’t want to mess around with me, Char.”

He went to place the joint between her lips again; his fingers lingered at her lips as she gratefully took the end. The color of her lips was the softest baby pink he had ever seen, a color so intimidating and intriguing.

“I think you’re writing me off because you think you know me,” Charli shook her head as she held the joint between her fingers, blowing out the smoke, “But I think you’re a bit scared. And I’m very intrigued. It’s my first festival, after all.”

Harry scoffed, “Not scared at all, love.”

Charli bit her lip, knowing the implications of the way that his eyes would gravitate towards where her teeth held her lip. Her tongue ran over her bottom lip softly, watching him stare at every single tiny movement that she could benefit from his view.

“So full of shit,” She half-whispered, shaking her head, “Can’t keep your eyes off of me, you really think you could keep your hands off if you got the opportunity?”

Harry’s eyes raised at her words, his tongue pushing into his cheek as he lifted his hand to take a large draw of the spliff between his fingers. The smile on his face was significant as he practically chuckled at her words.

“You think I’m scared to put my hands on you?” Harry shook his head, feeling the pity as he stepped close to her. The small space that they had created here in the back of the lot had become theirs as he stared into her eyes. “I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started. This wouldn’t be a one-time thing—me and you. That’s why it’s not happening.”

Charli’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she listened to the words he spoke, practically feeling the overwhelming feeling on her skin just at his words. She tried to keep herself together, but he saw right through it.

It was practically a growl that he let out, hoping that she would back off, “I’d fucking wreck you, Char.”

As quick as he spoke, she took a step forward, “Well, then fucking wreck me.”

Her lips brushed his jaw, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down his spine. Harry’s hand tightened around the joint, the other clenching at his side as he fought to keep control, to not give in to the desire roaring inside him. He stuck his hand in the front of his pocket as he felt his cock twitch just at the hot breath of her so close.

There were a million words in his brain, but they were all nonsense.

“Charli,” he breathed, her name a rough exhale, a plea. He knew he should push her away, should step back, but he couldn’t. His hand moved on its own, slipping around her waist, pulling her closer. “We can’t—”

“Why not?” she challenged, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and teasing. Her hands moved to his shoulders as she pulled herself against, letting the smell of him infatuate every part of her being. “Please, please, please.”

Her words were a siren’s call, a temptation way too sweet to resist. His resolve, already shaky, crumbled to dust. His grip on her waist tightened, and she responded by pressing even closer, her body fitting perfectly against his.

His mouth hovered over hers, the world narrowing to just the two of them, to the feel of her, the taste of her on the air.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game with me.” He whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp, heavy with the desire he could no longer hide. The sound of the music in the background was just enough to heighten their senses as he practically breathed a moan into her own.

Charli smiled, that same knowing smile, and his heart skipped a beat. Her lips brushing his without another word, the touch so light it was almost a tease, a promise of what could be if he just let go.

The last thread of restraint snapped. Harry’s hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her curls as he pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fire and desperation, a release of all the tension that had been building between them for so long.

If she wanted to be wrecked, so be it.

Charli responded in a way that surprised him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, something that made him dizzier than he had felt in a while. The thump of the bass had disintegrated into a memory, the sounds of the stranger around them had begun to dismiss, the only thing that mattered was the feel of her in his arms, the sound of her soft moan against his lips as he devoured his only saving grace.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pouring everything he’d been holding back into that one searing kiss. Her hands roamed over his back, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt, sending a thrill through him. He wanted more, needed more, and the way she clung to him told him she felt the same.

But then, just as he was about to lose himself completely in her, a shout rang out from somewhere behind them, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. The sound shattered the moment, and they broke apart, breathless, their hearts pounding in unison as Harry practically pushed her away from him.

“Charli!”

Rena’s voice had come from behind Harry, neither of them laying an eye on her until they had moved apart, and Harry’s back turned towards her. They hadn’t known how much she had seen, but it seemed like her cognizance had been long gone as she stumbled her way over to her friend.

“Hi, Harry,” Rena had seemed to forget Charli was there for a moment as she gave Harry attention first, her hand making its way to his bicep as she tried to steady herself. She moved her attention back to Charli, “I met someone who can hook us up, but I don’t know—like how much are you willing to pay? And like, he seems nice.”

Harry’s attention moved back to the conversation before his eyes narrowed gently at their predicament. He bit his lip just at the way that it didn’t sit right with him.

“I mean, a good amount, I guess. Nothing crazy. What’s he have?” Charli asked, almost like she had forgotten what had happened moments ago.

“He didn’t really say—I don’t think he’s given specifics, but I think we just want to tell him what we want to feel, and he can give it out.”

Harry shook his head, as he leaned down between them. “I know it’s your first time doing shit like this, but don’t fucking buy drugs from a random dude at a festival. That’s a way to get you offed. Unless he can prove his inventory, just don’t waste your time. Stick with the psilocybin’s and X.”

Rena and Charli looked back at him, before he shrugged.

“We have a hundred in cash,” She pressed, “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not just sitting on weed and beer, Harry. You and Jack go to festivals all the time—I’m not an idiot. Help us get something.”

Harry took a sip of the bottle, humming to himself before he shook his head at the thought. Turning to face her, he noticed the depth of her blue eyes that captured his breath for a moment.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to help my friend’s little sister roll like that,” He shook his head, “Especially if something happens to you. Not taking that chance.”

The words of implication felt odd as he spoke to them, the truth feeling a bit overwhelming before he watched Charli bite her lip and lift her eyes to him.

“Don’t let anything happen to me, then,” She bit her lip again, as if knowing that was the game to be played. Rena watched the interaction, but it wasn’t clear if she was taking anything into memory, “Do it with us, if you’re so worried about us.”

Rena rolled her eyes at the interaction, “C’mon, Char. He’s not going to help. I’m going to go ask for more details, I’ll meet you back here, yeah?”

Charli bit her lip as she crossed her arm; she nodded a few times as she watched her friend move back towards another guy that was behind Harry—one of the ones that they had talked to earlier. There was a group of a few guys and girls that seemed to be the same age, and possibly the same curiosity as them with these types of experiences.

She turned back to Harry, a bit disappointed by his lack of help and coddling of her.

“I’m definitely not doing it with you—that’s dangerous if you’ve never tripped before,” He told her firmly, giving her an answer she may have been looking for. Biting the inside of his cheek, he decided to question her a bit more, “But how do you want to feel?”

Charli took a moment to think, crossing her arms as she shrugged, almost like she didn’t know how to respond to his request. She wasn’t prepared for him to answer her that way; there was so much that she didn’t know, but she didn’t want him to read from her, in hopes that he may breakdown and help her out.

“I want to feel light—I want to feel careless and out of body. I want to feel a heavenly touch, almost,” She tried to think, “A pleasure like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Like, bringing me to tears type of euphoria.”

It was almost like she had described exactly what he had wanted to do for her for years, but her innocent face hadn’t caught onto it yet. His smirk wasn’t hidden as he turned away from her, pulling the bottle to his lips as he shook his head with a blush on his cheeks.

“Well, shit, Char,” He answered with a bit of shyness, “You don’t need drugs for that, you know.”

Her recognition had caught on, breathing out of her nose just a bit before she covered her face with her hand.

“That’s what everyone seems to say, but I guess I’m not having the same type of experiences they are.”

Harry bit hard on the inside of his cheek, practically drawing blood as he looked down at the ground. A race of thoughts entered through his brain, pacing back and forth at the thought of how much he couldn’t stand to be next to her now—he couldn’t think now if he wanted to. He hummed again, in recognition of her statement before he ran his thumb over his lip to try to keep himself busy for a moment.

“I’ll help you out, but only under one condition,” He told her; moving to face her, even though he knew that was not a clever idea. He knew as soon as he turned to look at her that he wanted to look away.

She nodded in agreement; he lifted his eyes from her lips.

“You can’t leave my sight,” He nodded, “Understand?”

Charli nodded again, almost like she was in a trance to nod and do whatever he said. “Uh-huh.”

His heart skipped a beat as he felt the sensational pulse through his blood, down into his stomach and all extremities before he let a soft, troubling few words leave through his lips.

“Good girl. Let’s go back to camp, then. I may have something for you both.”

Charli felt a pang in her chest at the way that his words were reactive to her; each detail struggling to make sense within her as they stood together for a moment before he nodded his head for her to follow him back. The walk was only ten or so minutes. It gave Charli a few moments to grasp the sobriety a bit; it was what Harry had expected before they made their way back to the tent area that still had quite a few people around.

That was the culture; that was the essence of it all. The darkness had small bits of light around to maneuver their respective campsites, laughter and partying continued far into the evening. It was only around midnight now before Harry had reached his tent. He opened the zipper, pressing into the space that he had been sharing with Jack before he invited Charli inside.

There was a lantern inside that he flicked on before he found a seat on the small mattress pad, he had laid down, but knew didn’t make too much of a difference.

“I’m only giving them to you, by the way,” Harry told her before searching through a backpack he had stored behind his pillow. “I can’t keep track of both of you. She’s also much more drunk than you, which is dangerous.”

Charli sat on Jack’s side of the tent before she watched Harry pull out a small saran-wrapped baggie that held a spoonful or so of white powder that was tied together; Charli eyed him for a moment before he dug to the bottom of his backpack before he shrugged and went back to the small bag and another bag nestled in his shorts pocket.

“This is what I’ve got—looks like a little snow, some tabs. Kind of mixed together, but that’s what I’ve got.”

Maybe it was showing the innocence in her, but Charli felt a range of curiosity mixed with nerves as she looked at what Harry was offering. His eyes searched her face as she cleared her throat, reaching for the small bag.

“Do you—I mean, you know how much to take? I just—I mean, I just want to try. But I don’t… you know more than I do.” She trailed off, which led Harry to smiling at her for a moment. He crawled over to where she sat, sitting next to her then on the small blanket and mattress pad.

“This is going to make everything bright—you’ll get the smallest dose, just enough for it to be good. It’s only good every so often, doing this stuff everyday wears off the pure adrenaline which is really the good part about it. Taking a bump makes everything better, it’s why it’s so addicting.”

Charli held the baggie, using her fingers to unwrap it before she looked back at him. “Give me a bump, then.”

In the most oddly intimate manner that he could think, he felt the tension and significant rush bend through his veins as he watched the way that her eyes followed his hands before he was able to add a bit of the chalky white powder the end of his pinky that was coated in a blue nail polish.

Harry extended his hand towards her, his pinky finger gently poised near her lips.

“Just breathe it in. You’re safe.”

She scoffed with a hint of a laugh, “I thought I was playing a dangerous game.”

Harry’s eyes felt heavy as he tried to ignore her flirtation. “Smartass.”

The proximity of his hand, with its subtle warmth, seemed to magnify the anticipation between them. Charli leaned in, her breath mingling with his, her lips brushing lightly against his finger as she inhaled the bump of coke from his fingers and feeling the effect almost immediately.

The burn, the tingle, the numbness that was in her nasal passage drove her head to loll back for a moment.

As she took in the powder, her eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, and then slowly opened, revealing a glimmer of surprise and pleasure. The change in her expression was subtle but unmistakable; a softening of her features, a slight arching of her brows as if discovering a new dimension of sensation.

Harry watched her intently, his gaze never wavering away from her as she studied the way that she discovered pleasure. He could see the moment the effects began to take hold—a delicate flush spreading across her cheeks, a slow, satisfied smile curving her lips. Her eyes, once wide with anticipation, now seemed to shimmer with a new, heightened awareness after several moments of silence.

“How does it feel?” he asked softly, his voice a tender caress as he leaned in closer, the space between them shrinking.

Charli’s lips parted in a slow, blissful exhale.

“It’s… like everything’s just glowing now,” she said, her voice carrying a dreamy, almost hushed quality. Her hand reached out, fingers brushing against his, and he could feel the gentle tremor of her touch, a tactile confirmation of the high she was starting to experience for the first time. “You’re really going to let me at this alone?”

Harry swallowed harshly, letting his lips part as he thought about all the reasons he shouldn’t join in her fun. But as he watched her pupils dilate, he blinked a few times to remember the way that the blue sapphires disappeared just like that in front of him.

Charli shut her eyes softly as she hummed before moving to lay on the space that held her brother’s blanket. She laid down on her back, Harry’s eyes gravitating towards the pull of her tits before they settled a bit more upwards. He leaned his arms against his legs as she sat on the ground and watched her start to feel the threat of the pleasure eat away at her.

“We should get back out there, hm?” Harry piped up, his words almost barely heard before her watched her head move up from the lolled position, opening her eyes. “You have to find Rena.”

There was a moment of silence before she sat up on her elbows, her eyes gazing at him heavily before she let her fingers draw over a part of her stomach that were visible from the shirt’s complete openness. Harry’s eyes were focused in—it had been a trap all along, he noticed as he watched her smile with complete satisfaction.

“Should we?” She questioned, “I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to leave your sight,” She paused for a moment, sitting up completely. Her body practically touching his as she let her hand move to dance along the tattoo on his skin. “And I’m all yours now.”

Harry shut his eyes as he moved his head to the other side; trying to take in any breath that didn’t have her scent lingering within it—but that was merely impossible at this point. He shifted his hips as he sat, trying his best to overcome the initial feeling of this infatuation with her. It had never been this way before.

“Fucking tease.” He swallowed heavily as he licked over his lips.

There was a noise that Harry heard, a whimper of sorts when he stayed put. He tried to keep his eyes closed, but he felt her presence heavier the longer that he sat.

“Just once? Please?” Her voice a mere whisper, but a fixture in his memory now.

“No, Charli—that’s taking advantage of you.” Harry tried once again; he couldn’t physically move, but he just had to keep saying no, no, no. One of these times, that wouldn’t be good enough for him. He knew that one of these times she asked, he would flip. He couldn’t contain himself for that long, surely not if she continued down this path.

Charli blinked slowly, she leaned her chin on his shoulder as she sat perpendicular to him, her mouth hot against his neck. “Fucking gentleman shit. Stop making me beg, Harry, it’s not nice of you. I’m really not against begging, you know?”

Harry sensed the danger in this game—his adrenaline living for this type of interaction as he practically chewed through his bottom lip. He swallowed, letting his dry throat be a reminder of how he felt in the moment. He shut his eyes softly again before he watched Charli reach for the small baggie. His eyes narrowing as she had practically memorized his movement, picking up a small amount on the nail of her pinky before looking at him with the dazed, blown eyes that were starting to hypnotize him.

“C’mon, please,” She asked again, softly, “It’ll be fun, we don’t even have to leave the tent.”

He felt himself tense at her words—knowing full well that they could do dangerous things just in this small vicinity. He would ravish her; make her cry out in pleasure so trembling that he wasn’t sure it was for his eyes, or not. Harry became quite a monster in all the best senses when his senses were heightened—he wasn’t sure that he would be able to hold himself back again.

It was one thing when it would be one-and-done; this was Charli, after all. He would never be able to stop thinking about the pleasures and soft whimpers and rushing feelings of nirvana that would overcome him with her wrapped around him.

But what would be so bad about that?

He turned his head to the left, looking at her for a moment before he put his finger up to his nose, closing a nostril before sniffing in the white powder on her nail, letting it coat his nose and every inch of his last bit of sanity. The head rush made him breathe out in a gasp before he stared up at the ceiling. The numbness in his throat, the adrenaline rush that went straight to through his limbs and into his chest.

“Fuck,” He stated clearly, letting himself sit for a moment before the high took over. Staring at her under the influence became a greater, much more euphoric feat as he turned to see Charli smiling at him with a face of triumph.

The world outside the tent seemed to fade into a distant hum as Harry and Charli sat cross-legged on the crumpled blankets. The warm buzz of the coke coursed through Harry's veins, amplifying every sensation, every sound, every breath Charli took in the small area. The tent was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern they’d placed at the entrance. It cast a golden hue over Charli’s face, making her skin look impossibly smooth, her eyes dark and endless as her dark curls laid around her face.

Charli leaned back on her elbows, her gaze fixed on Harry with a mix of amusement and something else he couldn’t quite place. She bit her lip, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that sent a jolt through Harry's chest. He was hyper-aware of everything—of the way her top had slipped slightly off one shoulder of how her breath was just a little unsteady, matching his own.

“This stuff’s intense,” Charli murmured, her voice soft but carrying a weight that made Harry’s pulse quicken.

“Yeah, it really is,” he replied, his voice sounding rough to his own ears. His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back to her eyes. The air between them felt charged, thick with anticipation and a tension that couldn’t be fooled.

A slow smile spread across Charli’s face, and she tilted her head, studying him like she was seeing him for the first time. “You’re different here, you know that?” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Not the same Harry I see with Jack.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but it may have been the mixture of substances. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Charli shrugged, her smile deepening. “You’re… less shy. More fun.”

Harry laughed softly, the sound coming out shaky. “I guess this place brings it out of me.”

Charli’s smile faltered for just a moment, her eyes searching his. “Or maybe it’s just us,” she said quietly. “In this world.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged, and Harry felt a thrill run through him. Charli sat up slowly, closing the space between them until he could feel the heat radiating from her body. Her knee brushed against his thigh, and it was like an electric shock. He was suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was, how he could smell the faint traces of her perfume, mixed with the sharp scent of sweat and something sweet.

“I’ve always liked that about you,” Charli said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “How you’re different. How you make me feel different. You’ve always been so nice to me, you know? So… pleasing.”

Harry swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Charli…”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. Her touch was light, almost tentative, but it was enough to break the dam.

In one swift motion, Charli leaned in, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both fierce and hungry. Harry’s mind went blank, every thought drowned out by the sensation of her mouth on his, the taste of her, the feel of her body pressing against his. He responded instinctively, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, grew more frantic. It was a deepened state of mind that brought him back to reality as he pulled away for a moment to breathe and regroup his thoughts.

Harry grabbed the bandana around his neck, pulling it off before he moved to the front of the tent. Charli’s eyes narrowed as she watched him begin to leave, her mind not meeting her words that she wanted to speak out. Instead, she watched as he wrapped the bandana around the zipper of the tent, letting it hand off the outside before he zipped it up fully.

“So Jack knows I’m in here with someone,” He told her, “Our secret, though, yeah? You and me?”

Charli nodded a few times before they had reattached to one another again. Harry reached out to grab the back of her head, pulling her lips to him in a quick, rushing moment. They were pressed to each other, the messy top lip kiss elated a whimper from Charli before she sat up on her knees, pushing back against Harry to try and get him to lay down so that she could take the control she craved.

He resisted, letting his hand grab at her waist before letting her climb into his lap as a fair compromise. Her arms wrapped around his neck, hair falling over their kiss as she allowed her tongue to travel over his plumped bottom lip. It was a feeling greater than pleasure; one of great heights that she would never be able to pinpoint except in this moment.

“You’re a needy little minx, aren’t you?” Harry grabbed onto her waist, the bares skin only being covered by the string that held her top up. “Coming onto your brother’s friend, such a needy, sly little fox. Wouldn’t have ever thought it.”

His hands felt the small of her back before she pulled back to get a glimpse of the way that his eyes dilated to the largest, dark circles of abyss, staring at her with a want so great that she wasn’t sure she’d ever find again.

She didn’t know which substance was talking but she seemingly found either to be mesmerizing.

“God,” She breathed out, pushing his hair back—his head pushing back as she kissed along the base of his neck. Her hips pressed into his, pushing up on his stomach as she pressed against the length of his body. “Wasn’t going to fuck just anyone this weekend, you know,” She breathed, “Love getting what I want.”

Harry scoffed at her answer, pulling her back before he let her hands rest against his shoulders. His eyes flew down to the way that her top dropped in the front. His hands reached behind her to grab the tie, pulling at it hastily before the top practically fell apart in his hands. The way that his eyes glided over her perfectly settled tits was mesmerizing; her left one holding a small, silver piercing that caught his attention like a hawk.

As she sat in his lip, her chest at eye level, Harry stared up at her for a moment before she squirmed in anticipation. Harry licked his lips softly before spitting gently onto her hardened nipple, watching as the dribble slid down the curve of her skin. Her heart practically stopped at the stalemate interaction, waiting for him to touch her.

The heaviness of her breath took his breath away— watching her chest inflate, deflate, settle. His cock hardened underneath her, her hips moving and feeling the reaction before a bit of surprise crossed her face.

“You’ve gotten me worked up all weekend, you know that?” He told her roughly, his throat hoarse but telling her simply, “Not going to go lightly on you—I’m going to fuck you into oblivion, and you’re going to take every inch, every moment, every word of it. You understand me?”

His thumb reached out to rub over the darkened, hard nipple that had sat untouched. Her reaction was visceral. The heat of the tent was starting to get to her already but couldn’t breathe at the thought of what was to come.

“Mhm,” She nodded, curtly, “Yes, sir—fuck, yes, please.”

The nickname sparked an electricity below his belt before he pushed her from him and onto the small, padded area of the tent that he had been sleeping on. Her world flipped as she stared now at the ceiling; the small light of the lantern by the door was the only amount of light. His hips pushed into hers as they melted into one another.

It didn’t take him anytime at all before he pulled down the shorts that sat on her body—they weren’t covering much, but they were enough of a barrier. The boots she had been wearing came too. His eyes drifted to the jet-black thong that covered little to nothing. The growl in his chest reverberated before he leaned up to kiss her again— messy, the way that his mustache tickled her lip was a certain kind of pain.

She wasn’t sure what was his needs and what was the drugs that were heightening every inch of her sense. She felt her body trembling, Harry watched as she shivered, her teeth chattering for a moment before he nodded as if to speak to her without a single word.

“You’ve got it all pent up,” He nodded at her, confirming her want and needs, “It’s going to fucking snap—you’re going to feel like you’re looking at yourself from up above, like you’re levitating almost,” He licked his lips, “I’m going to talk you through it though, don’t you worry.”

His hands moved to her hips, pulling them up as he played with the edges of the small thong that barely created space between them. Harry pulled himself up to leave a few more kisses on her mouth, notably feeling the want and need of her tongue pressing past his lips for more intensity—more feeling as she responded to his touch.

“Do you hear that?” She asked him, breaking their touch and kiss as he stared down at her for a moment. His eyes heavy on hers as she stared at him with a million sparkles in her eyes—the sparkling dust filling around her orbiting pupils.

“The music?” He asked, unsure. But when he watched her shake her head, he narrowed his eyebrows.

“That sound—it’s a buzzing, it’s uh, it’s like, it’s rushing—the ocean,” She shook her head, shutting her eyes. “It’s—”

Harry lifted his hand brushing her cheek softly before he looked between her eyes. Licking his lips, he nodded in acknowledgment.

“That’s the blood in your veins you’re hearing. Sounds like the rushing of water, every time your heart beats.” He explained, as if it was logical.

Charli took in a breath, “It’s addicting—that sound.”

Harry let his hand drift further down, down, down. Stopping at the small string of her thong, pulling at it.

“Let me make the sound louder, hm?” He sat up just a bit, giving him room to pull the underwear down her legs. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he watched them turn menacing, the devilish pleasure kingdom heating between her thighs.

It took everything in him not to drop his eyes—he’d never get the sight out of his memory once he did. Her laying there in complete submission to him—wanting his touch more than the security of never doing anything about it.

Her knees bent upwards, her hand resting on her stomach before she teased the idea of going further on her own. His eyes flickered, catching sight before he breathed outwards. The world turned upside down, eating away at him as pulled at the cotton tee that rested on his back, letting the clothes make a puddle next to them.

“You going to show me how you like it, then?” He teased, letting his lips settle between her breasts, giving a small kiss before moving down a few inches. The kisses were hard, pulling at her skin the way he knew she wanted.

“I’ve never felt like this,” She told him honestly, arching her back.

“Need me, then, do you?” He asks, sitting up a bit before kissing the top of her knee. His hand ran itself down the length of her torso, watching every movement of it. It was like a trail, a road. Every divot, every freckle, every small wrinkle of her skin.

“So bad.” She gasped out before he let his fingers move down her body further. The moment he touched her, they both gasped at the undeniable feeling of longing—the collection of wetness that coated his fingers, the warmth of her being.

Harry watched every moment, every movement. His lips parted, watching as she quickly settled, finding her grounding once he pressed one finger deep into her. The way that she opened for him wasn’t a coincidence; she had been waiting for this moment for so long, he could feel every inch of her holding onto his soul.

“God, more,” She begged, her hands moved into her hair as she arched into the feeling. “More—fuck.”

In that moment, he felt like an other-worldly being, giving her everything that she could have asked for. Anything he did would pleasure her; it was a superiority that couldn’t believe he had in his touch, but he smirked at her desperation.

“More?” He confirmed, letting his middle finger slide in right in place, before he curved them, “Like that?”

A mewl left between her lips as she huffed a breath. It was a bit loud; he could process that as soon as it happened, the noise going straight below his shorts before he leapt up to grip at her chin.

“Shh,” He told her, “Knew you’d be loud, but we gotta’ keep it to us, hm? Just right here.” His mouth leaned down, hot breath along her lips as he held his arm up right next to her head.

Charli felt like her body had melted onto the floor and completely dispersed in a million directions. The lightness that she felt, the warmth that her body harbored while still having a chill to her skin. Each movement, each touch, each breath—it came into her mind like the brightest sunshine.

His fingers moved in a synchronization with her heartbeat as she felt the easiness that came with pleasing her. He pressed on her lower abdomen when he pressed in, which elicit her back to arch against the ground. It was a rapid movement, but more of a flick to his wrist like a painter would say practice makes perfect.

Harry’s eyes moved down to the perfectly pink tone of her clit, aching and drenched with pleasure as he let his thumb rub over it. Her own wetness creating the perfect glide of his fingers as he bit back at the filth of his thoughts. He had so much to say and would hold it back from scaring her off.

The soft whimper of her created a symphony between them; one rock of her hips too many would set him off, he was certain.

“Don’t be scared of it, c’mon,” He pushed his fingers in to the knuckle, letting them beckon with the motion, letting them sit for a moment before his thumb rubbed over her swollen clit—the blood rushing through her system as he nodded at her. “You can fucking do it, Char, fucking soak me, huh?”

Her back arched in anticipation of the rush, pressing her hips into his touch further as the overwhelming and unjustifiable sense of pleasure carried her upwards into the heavens. The sound she made was sinful, the way that her eyes rolled back. Every inch of the detail was harbored by the darkness around them, but Harry felt that he could see through it—watching it as brightly as he could.

There was a small gush of her orgasm that made her body shiver with adrenaline as it soaked her inner thighs, the muscles in her legs contracting and shaking as she pulled them together. She breathed out a whimpered moan before grabbing onto his forearm to elicit the message that she was simply overworked by the feeling.

Harry breathed heavily, watching her wrecked laying in the middle of the bed he had made—simply lying in it. Her chest pulsed upwards as she had her eyes shut; he knew, even in his high, that he needed to give her a minute before they imploded. He didn’t want to make her heart rate skyrocket, so he settled on giving himself the pleasure of bringing his fingers towards his lips, letting his tongue dance over the wetness of them.

“So, so fucking delicious.” He stated under his breathe, watching as she writhed under him. Her eyes now wide open, watching him taste her on his fingers as she mewls with need. It’s filthy—it’s nothing she’s ever witnessed; a man devouring a woman in this way. She knew it would be like this with him, which turned her on more than she could imagine.

“Going to wet my cock like that too, hm?” He asked, coaxing her. “Going to prove yourself to me?”

Her face was flushed, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. It took him a moment, the words leaving his lips were enough to push her over the edge once again. He pressed his hands into her hips to steady her, giving her a sense of grounding. His high made his head dizzy with greed; his thoughts danced with a flourishing wave of desire.

“You have to stay with me, Charli,” He told her gently, “Let me hear your pretty words. You want me?”

Charli had tears in her eyes, a push of absolute certainty flooded through her as she sat up in a haste to let her hands move through his hair. Her lips found his again, letting her taste herself against his lips—his tongue was warm with her.

“Mm, those aren’t words,” He murmured against her. “But I’ll take it as a yes.”

“I’m just speechless,” She giggled out, “Sorry.”

It was chaos; the mascara smudged on her bottom lash line that created a darkened effect. It was revelry; the waning moon of her pupils as they settled back into a faded darkness.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” Harry echoed out his thoughts into the air as he let his thumb press into her bottom lip. He grabbed onto it, letting her smirk take over as she only harbored the horniness further from the way he degraded and lifted her in such bliss. “So, so fucking pretty. Could wreck every inch of your pretty cunt.”

“Let me play the game,” Her voice shrouded innocence, letting her hair fall into her face before he pushed it back. Her mind was running a million miles a minute, but her movements were slow, her erraticism and need for him ate away at her.

In an instant, she was pushing at his chest, moving him back so that he could rest on his hands. She wanted to pull on his shorts, let them both then lay together. The sweat that had sheened over their bodies both had created a humidity within the tent as they continued to find air to breathe, focusing on themselves.

Charli’s hands had pulled the shorts down his hips, practically not even giving attention to the stiff cock that laid against him—ready for her at any moment. Their lips intertwined again; he had missed the sweetness, knowing that it was such a part of their collective. She sighed against him, loving the feeling of his facial hair against her skin—the rough pleasure of it.

Harry laid, his back arching from the hardness of the ground, his hands on her hips as she moved to straddle him. Charli placed her shaking hand around his length, pumping him a few times, eyeing it for a moment before the sensual want of her eyes caught his. Harry bit his lip at the way that she looked; her disguise of innocence was just that.

Her head leaned down, a gentle lick under the head of his cock just to set his skin ablaze. Her eyes matched his, the eye contact far too superior. His eyes watched the hunger that captivated her, each moment longer than the next as she rested her weight on his chest before she lifted herself to sink down onto him instead.

The control he didn’t have was obvious now; he gripped onto the flesh of her hips, jaw tight. His eyes shut as he tried to come to terms with the already built feeling that settled within him. It had built up to an indecent amount, and his mind was blurring with thoughts that continue to poke and prod.

It was quick—an instant, really. No thoughts, no inhibitions, just surrender and want.

“God, fuck,” He cursed, letting her settle as her torso seemed to go for miles, he looked up. “You’re so fucking wet. Christ.”

Charli lolled her head back at the feeling of him, her hips moving back and forth just to grab onto the tension that was building. Her hair fell onto her back as she let out a breath, her hands resting on his chest to hold herself up as Harry watched her practically rub herself onto him.

His eyes wandered up her chest, watching as she arched her back to pull herself towards him. Harry’s hands landed on her ass, spreading her apart as he bucked his hips into her, his length poking in and out of her enough to create a guttural response in the back of her throat.

Harry lifted his fingers to grab at the back of her neck, pulling her head forward. His thumb pressed gently into her lips as they pouted outwards, letting his fingers coat themselves in the wetness of her bottom lip. Their hips rocked together; he grabbed her ass, pulling her upwards before he slammed his hips into her.

It was fun—it was one of the most diabolical moments he could remember, considering he knew that they could be caught at any moment in the most compromising of positions. He bit his lip to stifle the smile that pushed on his face as Charli looked down towards him, biting her own lip with ease.

“You are such fucking trouble,” Harry’s tongue was hot all the sudden, “Going to be the end of me.”

Charli hummed, laying forward to let her lips crash against Harry’s once against, a sea of teeth and scrapes as she let her nose rest against his for a moment.

“Been trying to tell you for years,” She breathed out while keeping their rocking motion of thrusts, their in-sync motions letting her breath heighten, “Too stubborn.”

“Bullshit,” Harry moved her hips against him, looking up at her, “You haven’t shown a bit of interest in me.”

Charli threw her hair to the other side of her head, letting her lips move down to the base of Harry’s jaw to suck gently—he lifted his head a bit to let her work.

“You’re clueless, then,” She chuckled under her breath, “I always wanted you to be my first kiss, you know. I had the biggest crush on you.”

The slight ping of vulnerability that hits the air lets Harry’s eyes flicker back to her; his hands roaming the fleshiness of her hips, fingernails scraping against her skin, details of her touch were kept in his mind.

“Had?”

They seem to be the only words that Harry can muster out before he watches her blush, pulling her head down into his neck as they both moan in unison from the way that she pulls up, moving down a bit more forcefully.

“Shit, you can’t keep doing that—” Harry starts to warn before she does it again, eliciting a reaction as he holds onto her waist so she can’t move any further. Charli can’t help it though, she’s pushing herself back at the feeling, knowing the one that she’s chasing is enough to give herself another orgasm.

She pushes back again a few more times—Harry’s inhibitions and self-control have formally flung out of the air; he’s never felt more obliterated and unwell. Focusing on her for a moment, he shakes his head as he recognizes that he’s not at all in the right headspace. The powder usually calms him and gives him more self-control, but something about this feels different.

Something about her.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna,” He pulled her hips up, lifting her from him before ribbons of cum were left on her lower tummy and thigh, and his stomach as he held his length to finish himself off. “Fuck.”

It was a senseless act, knowing that their response time had already been stunted from the high that they were on top of the world with. His muscles contracted heavily, watching as she held herself up, straddling his lap around the mess that coated both. It’s a moment of silence, a bit of regret at the now messy situation that has them both sitting for a moment with shaky breaths and uncontrollable heart rates.

“Oh, god,” He breaths, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

His eyes feel like they’re moving a mile a minute, trying to settle as they look at Charli on top of him. She’s bent over now, laying on top of him with their chests intertwined.

“Let me,” He offers, pushing her up a bit. He grabs the shirt he had been wearing, wiping it along himself, and her.

A few passes with the fabric, he throws it to the other side of the tent. At this point, his body feels like it’s become quite exhausted—it may have been dehydration, it may have been the high that had been wearing off. Harry licks over his lips as he feels Charli move from his body and down to his side. His arm reaches to grab the blanket that they had both been laying on top of, now moving it over their bodies as he felt her shivering next to him.

The high had been wearing off; her eyes shut and heavy as she laid on her side away from him. Her body tangled itself into the blankets, forming a cocoon of sorts to lay comfortably against him.

“Stay?” Her words were almost a question; one that he wasn’t sure was for him, or a confirmation from her that she would be. Instead, he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, shielding her body that was out in the open. His breath inhaled her scent, nose nudging at her shoulder before he nodded.

“Stay.” He confirmed.

Harry clenched his jaw as he shut his eyes; the sleep that was impending came sooner than expected for the both of them.

When Harry opened his eyes next, the light from the tent had been bursting in. The heat of the fabric had given his skin a sheen of sweat as he pulled the blanket from his chest. The way that his head pounded was a stark recollection of the previous night and the person he had wished most to see when he turned over.

But the space next to him was empty—the tent was empty.

He sat up, horrified by the way that he felt—knowing that he shouldn’t have participated in the coke with Charli, but knowing that what came out of it was stuck in his memory for the rest of his life. He wondered if she regret it; walking away from him without waking up next to him felt like something someone with regret would do.

Harry pulled his shorts on, as he hadn’t redressed the night prior. Crawling towards the zipped-up door, he opened it, finding himself squinting at the bright lights that had been trying to make their way through the fabric of the tent.

The pavilion was covered, and the familiar voices spoke outwardly with familiarity.

“Well, look who it is.” Jack’s words echoed out as Harry approached the small circle then. The small circle was the two people that he had not wanted to explicitly talk to right away. “Crazy night, huh? Couldn’t even come back to my tent, you must’ve been going all night. Lucky lady.”

He noticed Charli sitting there, her legs pulled up to her chest, wearing a large t-shirt and shorts that were most definitely men’s boxers. He swallowed hard, not wanting to take a closer look but being almost completely certain that they were his.

Their eyes met for a moment; Charli lifted her hand to bite the skin around her thumb to keep herself from asserting any type of notion that either of them had a clue about what Jack had been talking about.

Instead, Harry nodded simply.

“Yeah, something like that.” His pulse threatened to burst at the thought of her; at the thought of them. “Yeah—I, uh, think that’s the first time that won’t be a one-time thing.”

Charli’s interest piqued, her eyes focusing on him for a moment before Jack hit his shoulder, chuckling out softly before he shook his head.

“She must’ve stolen your heart for you to say something like that.” Jack exclaimed, taking a bite of his breakfast, offering Harry a plate before he took it willingly. Charli, sitting there trying to mind her own had a simple smile on her face, trying her best to not give away any details of the previous night.

But her mind took her back to falling asleep next to him; the quiet snores, the softness of his skin, the warmth of his embrace. She tucked some hair that had been falling out of her ponytail, biting her lip as she sniffled softly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded a few times, the smile encapsulating his face, “Something like that.”

383 notes · View notes

writella · 10 months ago

Text

Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead #negan smith

2K notes · View notes