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nekomamiiz · 2 months ago

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third time's a charm

kuroo x fem!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: 18+, post time-skip!kuroo, husband!kuroo, various pet names in place of y/n, domestic vibes, mentions of ovulation and pregnancy, masturbation (f), some spit, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, soft dom kuroo, some nipple play, heavy breeding, impreg, multiple orgasms/creampies... it gets really wet, hot and messy, cockwarming, my extremely poor writing skills!

a/n: weeeee i'm out of hiatus.. sort of... this is just a lil something i was messing with before my break. finally after 2 years i finished it lol. anyway,, this is pure smut like barely any plot besides kuroo putting a baby in you and extremly self-indulgent but i hope yall enjoy it!! big thank you to @retrofang for beta reading some of this bad boy and the entire server for putting up with me heheh! likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. thank you for reading <3 kiss kiss

banner and dividers by @/cafekitsune

After months of carefully calculating, tracking, and monitoring your cycle, the time has finally arrived.

Ovulation week.

You quickly text your husband when you receive the notification on your app. The little chime went off before you left the house for work. It must really be perfect timing, and he immediately replied.

Tetsurou <3 — I’m on my way back home. Don’t leave yet and call out for today.

— Actually, go ahead and put in your vacation request now. I’ll be there soon.

Your reply was a simple heart emoji. You’d get yourself relaxed and ready while you wait for him.

There wasn’t much to do. You had already showered this morning and made the bed before ‘leaving’ for work. As soon as Kuroo sent that text, you put your comfortable house clothes on and lit a few candles around the bedroom. The only thing left to do now is prepare yourself.

So, that’s what you did.

About half an hour later, Tetsurou walks through the front door of your home. He slips his shoes off, then his coat and that’s when he hears it—a soft and needy whimper of his name.

As he pushes through your bedroom door, his eyes find your body already glowing with a sheen of sweat and so beautifully spread out on the edge of the bed. He licks his lips at the sound of your cute little moans and the slight squelch of your pussy.

It all sounds so wet.

You have two fingers inside yourself, stretching and stroking the walls of your perfect cunt, offering Kuroo the perfect view. His breath hitches at the sound of your moans becoming louder now that your eyes are solely on him, and his mere presence is enough to make your body shiver with desperation.

“Tetsurou,” you whine his name as your fingers pick up their pace in stimulating your sensitive pussy. Now leaking with a desire to have him buried inside you.

Kuroo’s eyes trail down your body. He watches closely at how your chest heaves, how you twist your wrist so your fingers can reach the right spot inside, and how you whimper when you can barely get there. You’re putting on a show just for him, and he eats up every second of it.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you,” he quietly groans at the lewd sight presented to him.

He’s already palming himself through his slacks, using his other hand to remove the buttons of his shirt. He’s not in any rush, simply relishing the sight of you building yourself up to release, but you both know it’s not enough. The way you writhe and squirm on your shared bed has his body temperature rising, and he can see your want for him dripping out and onto the sheets below you, making such a pretty mess that he can’t wait to clean up.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he says as he steps out and away from his pants, kicking his boxers to the side. “Were you getting yourself ready for me?” he asks with a slight pout on his lips.

You nod your head as one of your hands quickly finds its way to your breasts, kneading at the sensitive skin and pinching your nipples between your fingers. Another whine escapes you at the added stimulation; add the sight of Kuroo fully undressed in front of you, spitting into his hand and stroking his cock—your mind quickly spirals.

Kuroo settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as he stares down at all the slick collected between your thighs. He wastes no time leaning down in front of your aching pussy, and he smirks at the way you continue to desperately fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers.

“Gonna let me taste,” he asks softly, looking up at you through the valley of your breasts.

Your face is sweaty, and that faraway look in your pretty eyes is making itself more noticeable. Kuroo knows you're about to cum, and it's a face he loves to see.

With another simple nod of your head and a quiet ‘yes,’ Tetsurou gets to work.

He spreads your legs further apart and tosses them over his shoulders, tugging softly on your hips so you can be closer to him. His actions rip an excited squeal from your mouth, followed by your sweet giggles.

You continue playing with your pussy, only tracing soft circles on your clit. Kuroo smiles at all the wetness collected on your fingers and takes hold of your wrist to remove your hand. He licks his lips before popping your glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking down all of your sweet juices and humming at the taste of you.

“Taste so fucking sweet for me, baby,” he coos while kissing your wet fingertips.

He’s looking at you with eyes so full of love as he continues worshiping your body, kissing your hips and inner thighs. He groans when he sees more slick dripping out of you, biting down on your thigh and devouring the sight of your perfect cunt clenching around nothing.

He needs to be inside you right now, but he also can’t help teasing you with his tongue for a bit longer. He licks a long, heavy stripe up your sensitive folds, groaning at the taste of you and how your entire body shudders beneath him. In this position, you’re at his mercy, his hands only holding your hips in place while you scratch and squeeze at his forearms from the intense pleasure he’s giving you with his mouth.

Kuroo chuckles against you, finding it so cute how you buck your hips in search of him. He’s already nibbling on your clit the way you like. What more could you possibly want?

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks, placing a soft, wet kiss on your clit. “Not enough for you?”

You whine at his question. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it and the need in your voice.

“Want you inside me, Tetsu,” your words come out as a needy whisper, mewling in ecstasy as his fingers trace little circles on your thighs.

Tetsurou hums in satisfaction before he dives back into your aching center. He teases your entrance with his tongue, poking the wet muscle in and out while he presses down on your clit with his thumb. He can feel the way you shake under him, your thighs quivering when he adds more pressure to your bundle of nerves. So close.

His gaze trails upwards, admiring every dip and curve of your body until he lands on your beautiful face. He finds your eyes already focused on his every movement, your brows pinched in an expression of pure pleasure, and your mouth parted in a silent moan.

You trap his head between your thighs, back arching off of the bed as your body vibrates from your first release. He greedily slurps down whatever you have to offer, moaning and growling into your sensitive pussy, allowing your orgasm to rip through your body in soothing waves.

The look in your eyes is slightly distant—Kuroo thinks—and he still hasn’t bred you the way he wants. He’s not unfamiliar with your increased sensitivity during this time, but it’s far too early for you to be this stimulated.

“I’m not even finished with you yet, beautiful, and you’re already lookin’ so fucked out,” he teases, voice sweet yet equally rough.

He crawls up the bed, pressing kiss after hot kiss on your skin as he makes his way face to face with you, large arms cradling either side of your head. His cock is ready and burning hot as it bobs against your lower lips, causing you to hiss at the slight overstimulation. You feel a few beads of precum fall and drip onto you as he captures your lips in a near-violent kiss. His intent seeps into your mouth, and he silently declares what he’s always promised.

“You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you have my babies growing inside you,” he says, low and slightly out of breath.

The statement shocks you somewhat at his use of plurals, and you return to reality instantly. “One baby at a time,” you pout playfully, kissing him again.

He pulls away and smiles so wide that it shows in his eyes, “I know. You know what I mean, I just want a big family with you.” He leans back down, placing soft kisses on the side of your neck, laughing through his nose as you smack his bottom.

Your shared laughter fills the bedroom, the world outside these four walls completely nonexistent as you share sloppy kisses for what feels like hours. However, Tetsurou plans to claim you as if it were the first time all over again, and he wastes no time doing so.

A warm hand snakes its way down the side of your body, tracing your curves with such care that he almost can’t handle the thought of being too rough with you. He is going to worship you today and ensure every ounce of his love shows in every move he makes and every kiss he leaves on your skin. He reaches between you—using two thick fingers to swipe through your folds—gathering enough slick to lube up his already weeping cock.

He pumps his fist once and then twice before pressing the tip of his dick onto your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at such little contact. Using his hand to gently rub his cockhead in figure eights around your pussy, he continues to tease your folds until finally deciding he’s gathered enough of your wetness to press into you—something he has been waiting all day to do.

With as much time as he spent between your thighs, he is surprised at how tight you always are for him, and you can’t help but whine at the intrusion. His cock is so warm and feels so heavy; you might come undone from this alone.

Kuroo starts to pump only a third of his length in and out of your quivering hole. Trying so hard to hold back all of his primal urges and working on building you back up again slowly, moaning in your ear as he relishes in the warmth the two of you share. Finally bottoming out inside you, he feels you convulse beneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangled in his mess of hair as you tug slightly at the roots.

“My fucking god, you feel amazing,” he says, clenching his jaw as if he hasn’t made love to you countless times, as if he hasn’t felt the heaven that resides between your thighs for years before this moment. Testsurou raises his head, looking at you, swiping a thumb across your cheek. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he demands, kissing you and resting his forehead against yours.

He thrusts, slow and soft, and you spread your legs wider, thinking it would invite him to go faster, but he denies you.

“I want all your cum inside, Tetsurou. Need you to put a baby inside of me,” you mumble breathlessly against his lips, grinding your hips to try and pick up the pace of his teasingly slow thrusts. “Please, baby,” you beg.

“Is that all, pretty girl?” he asks, pulling out of you almost entirely and thrusting back in—quick and rough. You moan his name as the lewdest sound of skin against skin echoes throughout the room. One. Two. Three sharp thrusts followed by your sweet cries of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ and it’s then that he begins to fuck you with absolute purpose.

Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel the expanse of his back, through his hair and back down again, nails leaving red trails on his skin while your thighs slide up and down the side of his body from the rhythm of his thrusts.

His chest brushes against yours just right, stimulating your nipples and causing you to moan his name. He knows you so well and responds by leaning down, capturing your breast in his mouth as he opens wide and sucks hard, his teeth teasing your peaked nipple as he pulls away. He lingers momentarily, alternating between swirling his tongue and using his teeth to stimulate you.

With a wet kiss, he pulls away, wrapping his arms around you and leaning back on his haunches as he holds you close. Your chests heave, and your skin slightly sticks together, the slickest part being where the two of you are connected, and he shudders at how quick you are to wrap your legs around his waist.

“I can’t wait to make you a father,” you say, your eyes locking on his as you mewl from how he fills you in this position. The tip of his cock is surely hitting your cervix, and the familiar throb you feel while he pokes and prods inside has you grinding in circles against him, desperate to meet his thrusts. “You’re going to be an amazing father to our children, Tetsurou,” you whimper as your eyes meet his.

He groans at your admission, his brows knitting together as he bites his lip in response. Both of his hands find their way to either side of your hips, gripping your skin and lifting you to speed up the pace. Your lips meet in a messy clash, your teeth scrape his tongue teasingly and he begins to unravel just in time with you.

“I love you so much, angel, and I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he declares, moaning breathlessly and going up in pitch with each word. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps out, his lips meeting yours again while his hands dig and squeeze into your skin.

A few more thrusts and lifts of your hips, and you can feel how close he is. His arms are beginning to tire, but he still hasn’t had enough of you.

“I can feel you about to cum, Tetsurou. Please give it to me,” you sigh against his lips, locking eyes as you feel him begin to spill his hot load inside.

“Fuck! You feel so good, baby,” he says as he lays you back down. “I’m still not finished with you yet, my love.”

This time, he grabs one of the many pillows at the head of the bed, and you instantly know what he has in mind. You instinctively lift your hips, and he gives your ass a soft squeeze before you back settle down, perfectly propped for him to reach deep inside and plant his seed.

Once you’re both comfortable with the position, he gets back to work, grabbing you by the meat of your thighs and spreading you open. He shivers when he sees a dribble of cum slipping out and down the crack of your ass—this is unacceptable.

Golden eyes find yours as his fingers swipe up the mess he made. “Can’t waste a single drop,” he says, sucking his lip between his teeth, fucking his cum slowly back into you with his fingers.

Wet squelches ring through your ears as you focus on his hand pumping in and out of you—the other gripped tight around the base of his cock, edging himself. The rough callouses on his fingers stimulate your gummy walls so well, and he knows what he’s doing to you.

“Enough with your teasing, Tetsurou,” you huff out in short breaths, reaching down to take hold of his wrist. “Because I’m not finished with you either, my love,” your smirk mirrors his own. Guiding his hand out and up towards your lips, you suck on his wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your combined juices—a little salty but so fucking sweet.

Laughter once again fills the large room as he moves to hover over you, licking your lips and having a taste for himself.

“Always so eager,” he chuckles, moving to kiss your neck, sucking softly.

Rolling his hips back and forth, he slides his length between your folds, tip catching at your entrance two or three times. He still gives you nothing—not yet—because telling him not to tease you only makes him want to do it more.

As if sensing your annoyance, he gives in, guiding his cock to your entrance once again; he settles back on his knees, pressing inside of you inch by inch. Those skilled hands of his begin sliding up and down your thighs, deciding on gripping your ankles and resting them comfortably on his shoulders.

The meat of your thighs lay flush against his chest; you can feel the heat radiating off of him along with the sweat that coats his defined abdomen. His large arms wrap around your legs, pulling you flush against him, and you revel in the feeling of his cock finally reaching that deep place inside.

Kuroo stays there for a moment—perfectly still—kissing your calves, taking a bite here and there. You stare at him in complete awe as he begins to thrust in and out, tip prodding at your cervix each time. His eyes pinch shut, cheek resting against your calf as he loses himself in the feel of your warm walls squeezing him tight.

“Feels good,” you whisper, offering him a sweet smile before biting your lip and tossing your head back onto the plush mattress. You reach out to him, silently asking to hold his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Using your hands as leverage, he speeds up his thrusts, setting a brutal pace as he pulls you in closer and closer, mumbling words of praise through pleasured groans. His cock throbs inside of you, nearing another release, and his balls feel heavy as they slap against your ass with every sharp thrust.

“Gonna cum again,” he grits out, hips faltering in their rhythm just as he spills his load inside of you for the second time. He chants your name while mumbling ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ a few times, grinding into you to ensure his cum stays buried just as deep as he is.

Releasing your hands, he runs his over the skin of your thighs, rubbing and scratching in soft circles. He takes your legs and folds you in half, your ass lifting off the pillow just slightly as he leans into you. His kisses are sloppy and wet, and he grips your thighs like a lifeline as he begins to jackhammer his cock into you.

Wet squelching becomes the only sound you can register, drowning out his mumbled words of praise. You admire how beautiful he looks, lost in pleasure, eyes raking up and down your body, both of you glistening with sweat.

He slowly builds you up to another orgasm, your body shaking the closer you get, and your pussy clenches around his cock in a vice grip. You can’t get enough of him, from the way his hands grip your skin so gently, the wild strands of black hair sticking to his forehead, down to the teasing words he showers you with throughout.

You cum, your body trembling as Kuroo tries to keep you still, his nails surely leaving crescent marks on your thighs. He rises—no longer crowding over you—chest heaving and dripping in sweat. His amber eyes appear darker than ever as he continues to pound into you, overstimulating your pussy beyond what you can handle.

“Don’t stop, Tetsurou,” you beg, wrapping your hands around your legs, spreading yourself so he can focus on his current task. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer to meet every sharp thrust.

“Third time’s a charm, right baby,” he teases, unable to help himself. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he chokes out, face contorting because he knows you did that on purpose, but he laughs anyway.

His cock throbs inside of you, eyes zeroed in on that thick creamy ring coating the base of him, and the sight makes him groan—sucking in his bottom lip. There’s so much cum dripping out of you with every thrust in and out, and he fucking loves it.

“Keep going, baby,” you encourage him, nodding your head when you feel his hips falter in their movement. “Give me everything. I want it all, Tetsurou,” your words come out in broken cries, relishing the sight of him coming undone.

A few more thrusts and his cum fills you— so warm and thick—thicker than the previous ones. There’s no doubt in either of your minds that this will take; he just has to stay inside a little longer.

Releasing your grip on your legs, you finally relax, setting your feet back comfortably on the mattress. Kuroo continues to rock his hips slowly, pushing his cum further inside of you, his mind elsewhere as he flits his gaze between your face and your pussy.

“You look so pretty with my cum inside you, princess,” he nearly giggles, satisfied with his work and the euphoric look in your eyes. “Think we can keep this up for the rest of the week?” he asks, breathless, offering you that same sideways grin you fell in love with years ago.

This makes you toss your head back, mirroring his laughter and clenching around him with every exhale. You reach your arms out, and he leans back over you, placing several kisses on your chest and neck—his nose brushes against your cheek, waiting for your response.

“Let’s get some rest first. You look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration,” you say, amused at his shift in demeanor.

His arms wrap around your frame, rolling you over so you now lay on top of him, fingers tracing invisible words on your back. He is still inside you, keeping his seed nice and warm, not allowing a single drop to escape.

“I made sure to have plenty of water today, and you know I can go for hours when the moment calls for it,” he delivers his statement with one shallow thrust, just enough to rub against that spongy spot inside.

Too overstimulated to try for another round, you place your palms on his chest, resting your chin on the back of your hands as you admire his features. He plants a few pecks on your forehead before he moves a hand to caress the side of your face, thumb swiping gently on your cheek. His eyes bore into yours as you lay there for a minute or two, taking each other in.

“You think that was enough?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek deeper into his palm to place a kiss on his wrist.

“If that wasn’t enough,” he looks down, gesturing at the mess of cum between you. “I’ll make sure it will be by the end of the week,” he says reassuringly, leaning in to claim your lips in a kiss.

After today and the amount of cum dripping out onto the mattress, you do not doubt his ability to put a baby in you.

The rest of the week continues the very same, and if you thought you’d already made love on every surface of your home before, then you’re wrong. Kuroo finds new places to take you that you never thought imaginable, and his stamina has become endless in his mission to get you pregnant.

➣

About a month and a half later, you find yourselves hovering over the bathroom sink, waiting for the plastic sticks you arranged in a row to reveal their results. It’s only been a few days since your period was supposed to arrive, but you can’t help being excited at the possibility.

Minutes pass, and the first stick displays two pink lines, the second and the third following right behind with the same result—you both lean in closer. Tetsurou’s eyes quickly shift between the instructions, the test, and your face. He takes in your expression—shock and absolute joy— and pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you slightly off the ground as happy tears fall from your eyes.

He kisses your face, setting you back down to leave another on your lips. You hum against him in complete bliss, satisfied with the results of your love.

Tetsurou pulls away, sporting the cheekiest grin that nearly stretches from ear to ear.

“Told you I’d make sure it was enough.”

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sonarspace · 2 months ago

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UNDERCOVER HEAT (FT. TOJI)

synopsis. undercover mission, heated brownies, and a halloween party—what could possibly go wrong? wc. 5.4k. content. detective au. aphrodisiac intake. ōral sėx. șex (missionāry, doggy, prone bone). and more i just can't remember lol. an. first time writing a toji fic. i hope it doesn’t disappoint 🙏🏽. very tired so if anything doesn’t make sense just pretend like it does.

“you look like you just stepped out of a comic book,” toji says, his dark eyes sweeping over your form as you navigate the crowded room.

“you’re one to talk, bruce wayne,” you shoot back, smirking as you elbow him playfully in the ribs. his confident grin widens, but the flirtation is cut short when you remind yourself of the real reason you’re here.

the two of you are on an undercover mission, blending in as partygoers to gather intel on a notorious drug lord rumored to be making a deal tonight. your focus is to blend in, stay low-key, and keep watch for any suspicious activity.

yet, the tension between you feels just as dangerous as the mission.

the crowd is wild, people in masks and costumes dancing under the flashing lights, the music vibrating through your chest. you stick close to toji, keeping an eye on the room while trying not to be distracted by how good he looks in that suit, his tie slightly loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, his tattoo peeking through.

as you both move through the party, a table laden with snacks and drinks catches toji’s eye. he slows, raising an eyebrow as he picks one up, inspecting it with mild curiosity.

“weed brownies,” he says, offering it to you with a teasing smirk. “c’mon, loosen up. we’ve got time.”

you arch an eyebrow. “we’re on duty, toji,” you try to remind him.

“just half,” he urges, nudging it toward you. “it’ll help you relax a bit. you’re too uptight for this.”

with a reluctant chuckle, you accept half, sharing a knowing glance before you both take a bite. the sweet flavor melts on your tongue, and you try to suppress the nagging feeling that you might regret this decision.

he grins, finishing off his half before leading you further into the crowd. at first, you don’t feel any different. you remain sharp, alert, your eyes scanning the room.

as the night wore on, you both felt the effects start to creep in—the heat started to build within you, and every glance at toji made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

a warm, insistent pulse that’s building deep inside you, spreading through your veins with every beat of the music. you glance at toji, and your breath catches in your throat. he’s closer now, his dark eyes fixed on you with a new intensity. his lips part slightly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you can feel the air between you thickening.

“this feels... different,” you murmur, shifting slightly as the heat pools low in your abdomen. the fabric of your bodysuit suddenly feels too tight, too warm.

“yeah,” toji says, voice lower than before, almost rough. his hand brushes against yours, and you flinch, hyper-aware of how close he is. “weed doesn’t feel like this.”

you glance around nervously, suddenly aware of the pounding music, the dancing bodies pressing against you. the lights seem brighter, the air heavier, and when you look down at the table again, your stomach drops.

there, right next to the tray of brownies, is a small sign.

“aphrodisiacs.”

“toji,” you hiss, pulling him closer. “those weren’t weed brownies.”

he reads the sign, then looks back at you, realization dawning. “fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his dark hair. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

the heat is overwhelming now, pooling in your core, making every nerve in your body sing with need. and toji—he’s so close, his body radiating warmth, his woody musk filling your lungs, making it impossible to think straight.

your hand drifts down to his arm, gripping the fabric of his suit as you step closer, your body pressing against his. the desire is overwhelming, and you can’t hold back. you start to move, swaying your hips in time with the music, grinding against him with deliberate movements.

“toji...” you whisper, voice thick with need, “i can’t...”

he groans, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging in as he pulls you against him. “keep it together,” he murmurs, but his grip tightens, drawing you impossibly close. “we can’t let this ruin the mission.”

“i know,” you breathe, the words barely escaping as you press yourself against him, your body instinctively seeking friction. every pulse of the music drives you further into a frenzy, the heat pooling between your thighs, craving more.

“god, you’re driving me insane,” he admits, his voice low and rough, the desire in his gaze igniting something carnal within you. “we can’t—”

his lips ghost over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “we really shouldn’t…” but his hands are already wandering, sliding over your waist, his touch burning through your bodysuit. instinctively, your hands find his chest, pressing against him as your body moves in sync with the music in the background.

“don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thrum of the music. your body arches into his, craving more, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in the moment.

his control slips—just for a second. the space between you becomes charged with an undeniable need. toji leans in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, so close to closing the distance when—

he stiffens.

his eyes snap to something in the crowd, cutting through the haze. your own gaze follows his, heart still pounding in your chest, blinking away the daze of desire when you spot the drug lord making his way toward a back room, a sleek black briefcase in hand.

“shit,” toji curses under his breath, his voice hardening with frustration. his grip on you loosens slightly, his hand sliding down to grab your wrist. “we’ve got to move.”

you blink up at him, still half-lost in the daze of desire, your body protesting as he tugs you away from him. “toji…” you murmur, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as you’re pulled back to reality. the tension between you is still sizzling and stopping feels like torture.

“later,” he growls, though there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes too. his hand tightens around yours, dragging you through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers, until you’re following the drug lord into the darkened hallway.

the sounds of the party fade behind you, replaced by the faint murmur of voices. toji pulls you close, pressing a finger to his lips as you both inch closer to the door. the drug lord is talking to someone inside, their voices low and serious. you strain to listen, trying to make out the conversation, but your mind is still clouded by the way toji's lips felt on your skin, almost kissing you.

a creak in the floor makes your heart skip a beat. the drug lord’s voice halts, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. panic surges through you, your pulse spiking as you realize you’re about to be caught.

but before you can react, toji’s hand is on your face, rough yet urgent as he grabs your chin and turns your head toward him. without warning, he crashes his lips against yours in a desperate, searing kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise. his lips are warm and soft, a stark contrast to the tension that crackles between you. the world blurs around you, the tension from before exploding as his mouth moves against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.

you can barely think—barely process anything other than the feel of his lips, the way his hands grip you like he can’t let go. his fingers cradle your face, thumb brushing your cheek, grounding you even as the kiss threatens to pull you under. the kiss is both a cover and a release, a way to escape the reality of the mission and the overwhelming need that’s still coursing through your veins. each brush of his mouth against yours sending your senses in overdrive.

the door opens, and the drug lord’s gaze sweeps over you both. for a split second, his eyes linger, suspicion flickering in his expression, but toji doesn’t stop. his body shields yours, pressing you against the wall as his lips move hungrily against yours, keeping up the act—and maybe indulging just a little in what he’s been holding back.

after what feels like an eternity, the drug lord turns away, satisfied that you’re just another pair of partygoers caught up in the chaos of the night. the door clicks shut behind him, and toji finally pulls back, both of you gasping for breath.

his forehead presses against yours, both of you panting, hearts racing. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of the kiss—hanging between you.

“well,” you finally murmur, your voice shaky but playful, “that was one hell of a distraction.”

toji smirks, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where his kiss smeared your lipstick. “don’t get used to it,” he mutters, though the look in his eyes says otherwise.

just as you catch your breath, the door swings open again. toji’s instinct kicks in, and he pulls you close once more, capturing your lips with his in another kiss. his hands weave through your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing against yours, and in reflex, your body arches against his.

“nice costume, kitty,” the drug lord’s voice cuts through the air as he walks past, glancing at the two of you. “ah, lovebirds, wrap it before you tap it,” he adds with a smirk before sauntering away. toji pulls back slightly, his grin still lingering on his lips, and you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all—caught mid-kiss while undercover.

your fingers instinctively brush over the scar on toji’s lip but he halts your wrist with a firm grip, his eyes narrowing slightly. “we should follow him,” he says, his voice strained. a flicker of irritation crosses his face, and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line.

you trail behind the drug lord as he exits the club, your heart racing. he climbs into his sleek car, and just as he drives away, toji pulls you back, shielding you with his body. “the team will follow him. mission’s over.” he says.

he steps away for a moment as he quickly relays the information on his radio, tension radiating from him as he waits for the valet.

you feel a chill in the air and your wrap your arms around yourself. toji returns, draping his jacket over your shoulders without a word. “i’ll drive you back,” he says, and you nod gratefully.

the silence is heavy in the car as he drives. “i’m sorry,” you finally murmur.

“for what?” he glances at you, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“for not keeping my hands to myself and touching your face.” you fidget, feeling the weight of your actions.

toji exhales slowly. “it’s fine.”

toji’s hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, the muscles in his jaw flexing. the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the faint hum of the staticy radio doing nothing to ease it.

“i’m not pissed,” he repeats, his voice even, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

“really?” you press, shifting in your seat to look at him. “then why does it feel like you’re pissed?”

he finally exhales, the kind of breath that sounds like he’s been holding it in for far too long. “fine,” he mutters. “maybe i’m pissed because i can’t fuck you the way i want.”

the confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw. your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as your body heats up at the words. “how... how do you want to fuck me?”

toji’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, his eyes still fixed on the road. “we’re not doing this,” he murmurs, but the low rasp in his voice betrays him.

“why not?” you challenge again, leaning closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “we both took that aphrodisiac… you want this just as much as i do.”

your hand drifts over to his thigh, inching higher toward his groin, and his breath hitches. he grabs your wrist before you can go any further, his grip tight but not painful. “don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

but the way his gaze darkens with lust tells you he’s more than ready to finish whatever you’re starting.

toji pulls up in front of your place, the car rumbling softly as it idles. the air between you is still charged, thick with the unspoken tension that's been hanging between you all night. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lip, before glancing at him.

"you want to come inside?" the words slip out before you can stop them, and you can feel your pulse quicken.

he turns to look at you, his gaze heavy-lidded and unreadable. there's a beat of silence, then he shuts off the engine. "are you sure?" his voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

you nod, swallowing hard as you open the car door and step out, feeling the cool night air on your skin. he follows you, every movement deliberate and controlled, as if he's holding back the flood of want simmering just beneath the surface.

inside, the air feels different—warmer, more intimate. you kick off your shoes, turning to face him, heart racing in your chest.

you turn to him, nerves fluttering as you ask, "want something to drink or—"

before you can even finish, toji's lips crash against yours, cutting off your words. his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer against him, the intensity of his kiss stealing your breath. the short dress you’re wearing bunching under his grip. there’s a desperation in the way his lips move against yours, like he's making up for all the restraint he had to hold onto earlier. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of his body searing into you as he presses you against the wall.

"just you," he growls against your lips, voice rough, as if he’s been holding it back for too long. "i only want you."

"then take me," you murmur, the words barely a whisper before he’s on his knees in front of you, so sudden it makes your breath hitch.

his hands slide up your stocking-clad legs, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thin fabric. “you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he mutters, but the way he looks up at you through his dark lashes nearly makes your knees buckle.

you would've been on the floor, legs in the air, if it weren’t for his hands holding you steady, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. his palms glide higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“you sure you want this?” he asks, his breath warm against your skin as his lips graze the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, and all you can do is nod, legs trembling from the way his fingers tighten around you like he knows he’s about to make you fall apart.

his lips glide over your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin beneath the sheer fabric of your stockings. he doesn’t pull them off just yet; instead, he removes your heels, leaving your feet bare and vulnerable. taking the opportunity, you press against the tightness in his pants, and the deep groan that escapes him makes you chuckle sweetly.

that sound seems to ignite something in him, and he pushes your dress up higher, giving him an unobstructed view of your lower half. “you’re asking for it,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses over the black tights, pressing his lips firmly against you, making you feel every bit of his desire.

you can feel yourself getting wetter with each press of his lips. “toji,” you breathe, your body instinctively arching towards him.

as your fingers reach for your stockings, eager to remove them, toji grabs your wrist, holding your hand firmly at your sides. “not yet,” he murmurs. his lips resume their path along your thighs.

you squirm but he keeps you pinned, his hands anchoring your wrists to the wall. “let me take my time,” he whispers, kissing softly over the fabric, each press of his lips sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

after a moment, he pulls away, standing tall and towering over you. he undoes the button of his pants, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “on your knees, pretty girl,” he commands, his voice low and sultry.

your heart races at the drop in his voice, and you can’t help but comply, sinking to your knees in front of him. “you’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, his tone low and gravelly. “now it’s my turn.” he steps closer.

with one hand, he cups your chin, tilting your head back to meet his intense stare. the other hand rests on his waistband, fingers grazing the fabric teasingly. “you know what i want, don’t you?”

you squirm slightly, pressing your legs together for some friction as you breathe out a soft, “yes.” toji’s smirk widens.

you take a moment to admire him, heart racing as you gaze at his cock, standing tall and proud. it’s a deep shade of crimson, flushed at the tip, glistening slightly with anticipation. the girth of him makes your mouth water, and you can't help but grow wetter at the sight, a rush of heat pooling in your core. the veins running along his shaft pop with every heartbeat, driving you wild.

your fingers wrap around him, feeling the warmth and weight of him in your hand. you start slow, stroking him, taking your time to learn every inch. leaning in, you press a teasing kiss to the tip, swirling your tongue around it, tasting his salty potent arousal.

toji's head falls back with a low groan, and you can’t help but feel a thrill run through you. maybe it’s the aphrodisiacs working, but you’re feeling bold. with a steady breath, you take him deeper, feeling him press against the back of your throat. your nose brushes against the soft, trimmed tufts of hair on his pelvis, and you keep him in your mouth for a few moment, enjoying the warmth and weight of him.

he can feel the way your throat tightens around him, sending waves of pleasure through both of you. toji grips the wall in front of him, his breath hitching as he fights the urge to buck forward. “fuck,” he moans, his hand moving to cradle your face, holding you in place as he pulls out just enough to let you breathe.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, locking your eyes with his. “you can fuck my throat.” a small smile plays on your lips as you watch toji's expression shift.

“you sure?” he asks, his voice full of caution, searching yours for reassurance.

you nod, as you pull him closer. with that, he presses back against your lips, and you take him fully, feeling him slide across your tongue. you grip the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to thrust gently, mindful of your limits. your throat tightens around him, and you can feel tears forming in your waterline as the pleasure builds, each push making your body feel like its on fire.

after a few moments, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. he helps you stand, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your tongue. his hands move under your thighs, hoisting you up effortlessly as you both stumble backward, trying to find the way to your bedroom.

“right,” you mumble against his mouth, and he nods, tongues tangling as he blindly navigates, the need to feel your skin against his guiding him.

as toji stumbles into the hallway of your bedroom, he accidentally knocks down a few frames on the wall, and you can’t help but chuckle against his lips. the sound breaks the tension, making him grin against your skin as he slips into the bedroom. he falls forward, both of you bouncing onto the bed.

his smile widens as he moves his lips to your jaw, nipping playfully before gripping your chin and tilting it up, exposing the soft skin beneath. with a teasing kiss, he leaves a mark that only the two of you will know about. he presses more kisses down your throat.

“as much as i like this outfit, kitty,” he whispers against your skin, “i think i’d like what’s underneath even better.”

you bite your lip, glancing up at him with a smirk as you tug the straps over your shoulders. “sure you want to ditch the whole ‘bruce wayne’ persona so soon, toji?” you tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

he laughs, grabbing your legs and pulling you down the bed, his hands moving over your body tugging the dress along with your black stockings and pretty black lace arousal coated panties. “you wanna be one of bruce wayne’s one-night stands, kitty?”

“bruce wayne and catwoman don’t have one-night stands,” you say playfully, tilting your head at him. he raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “oh? what do they have then?”

“a complicated relationship,” you reply, returning his smile.

“well then, let’s make this complicated,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes as he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin.

before you can respond, his hands find their way back up your thighs, fingers slipping between your legs. he groans lowly, your arousal coating his fingers like he's dipping them in a jar of honey. “you’re so wet, kitty,” he murmurs, pressing his fingers harder over your core, a teasing pressure that has you trembling.

your legs part on their own, a silent plea for more, and he gives it to you, slipping two fingers and sinking them deep into your warmth. your core eagerly takes him in, slick and pulsating around his fingers as they press in until his knuckles are snug against your clitoral hood.

he curls his fingers inside you, almost touching against that soft spot. “you take me so well,” he groans, watching your body react to every curl, every thrust, a twisted grin tugging at his lips as your wetness coats his hand.

he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, and you can’t help but whine at the sudden emptiness. “need to feel this clenchin around my cock instead,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

your breath hitches as he stands up, stripping off the rest of his clothes. he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a condom, and you raise an eyebrow, your voice laced with teasing. “communal dick?”

he lets out a mock gasp. “refined dick, actually,” the corners of his mouth twitch upward, “only the finest get the honor.” his grins grows as he steps between your legs again. “and tonight, it's all yours.”

toji tears the condom wrapper open, his eyes never leaving yours. “and just so you know,” he says, rolling it on, “my dick’s very picky about who it gets hard for.” his voice is dripping with that familiar cockiness, making your pulse quicken.

he aligns himself with your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked folds. “lucky me then,” you whisper, the words barely escaping before he pushes inside, filling you completely in one slow thrust.

toji groans as he sinks into you, feeling the way your walls grip him tightly around him. “fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice roughened. a moan slips out as he starts to move, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulls out and thrusts back in.

“such a perfect fit,” he growls, gripping your hips, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. each time he pushes inside, it feels like he’s molding your insides to the shape of him.

“harder,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around him, urging him on.

toji grins down at you, his eyes dark. “needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teases, but he doesn’t make you wait, slamming into you with more force. your moans get louder, your body trembling as pleasure builds inside you, and he watches with smugly.

toji can feel the aphrodisiac kicking in, making everything feel more intense. your skin’s on fire, every touch sending you closer to your orgasm. “can feel it working, huh?” he smirks, enjoying the way you squirm under him.

you nod, breathless, biting your lip as you arch your back, wanting more. every nerve in your body is lit up, and the way he moves inside you has you craving him even more.

toji’s grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts becoming more intense, as if he’s riding the same wave of heightened arousal. “you’re so fucking wet for me,” he growls huskily.

his hands find your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach. you feel the cool sheets against your heated skin. he positions himself behind you, a wicked grin plastered across his face as he takes in the view of you sprawled out beneath him, the way your ass perks up invitingly, the soft flesh just begging to be gripped.

his hands move over your curves, fingers squeezing your ass as if to test the softness beneath his palms. he relishes the way your skin feels, warm and supple, as he kneads it gently. “so perfect,” he growls, unable to resist the urge to give you a playful smack, relishing the sound it makes and the way your body reacts.

you arch your back, pushing your ass further back against him, eager for more of his touch. the little whimper that escapes your lips makes toji’s breath hitch. “more,” you plead softly, and he can’t resist the temptation. he delivers another sharp slap to your ass, the sound echoing in the air as a flush of heat spreads across your cheeks.

he leans forward, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “you just can’t get enough, can you?” toji’s hands glide back over your skin, rubbing over the reddened marks he left behind. he positions himself once more, his hardness pressing between your legs, tantalizingly close to where he was just moments ago.

when he finally pushes in, you glance back over your shoulder, a challenge dancing in your eyes. “i thought you’d be more rough,” you tease, and he chuckles, dropping his head into your back as he presses a kiss there, tugging your hair back gently, pulling you up against his chest. “you make me wanna be soft, take my time,” he murmurs against your ear. his thrusts become hard yet slow, pressing right against that sweet spot deep inside you.

his groans slip into your ear, and you shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, savoring the sensation of him filling you completely.

punctuating his words with a thrust that sends you reeling forward. you’d fall face-first into the mattress if he didn’t have his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you in place.

as he drives into you, he pushes you to lay flat on the bed, his weight pressing over you as he continues to move back and forth. you can feel a trickle of sweat run down your back, his pace unrelenting as he keeps you at the edge.

his hand slips to your front, fingers working over your clit. “i need you to cum for me,” he urges, and the intensity of his words sends a rush of warmth through you. your body responds eagerly, building to that peak he’s coaxing from you. with a particularly hard thrust, you cum around him, crying out his name.

toji pulls out, flipping you onto your back. you grip his shoulders, pulling him down to you as your mouths crash together in a messy kiss. lips sliding together as your tongues tangle, tasting each other with urgency.

you push him onto his back, taking the reins as you ride him. he chuckles softly, his back hitting the mattress. his hands grip your hips, guiding you as you bounce on him, the sensation driving him wild.

the sounds of your mouths meeting are loud and wet. your hands fist into his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with every desperate press of your lips. he groans against you, the vibrations making your pussy clench, and you can’t help but kiss him harder, eager to feel every bit of him.

toji pulls back, his breath ragged. without breaking eye contact, he starts kissing his way down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your lips to your neck, and further down.

as he makes his way to your stomach, he dips lower, inhaling your sweet scent as he reaches your core. he pauses for a moment, relishing the sight of your slick thighs glistening with remnants of your pleasure. he dives in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and a low groan escapes his lips as he savors the tangy sweetness of your cum.

“fuck, you taste so good,” he hums as he cleans your arousal with his tongue. he licks and sucks, the sound of his mouth working against you filling the room. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as he buries himself deeper into your sweetness, not wanting to miss a single drop.

“you’re a fucking masterpiece,” he breathes against your skin, pausing just long enough to give you a wicked grin before diving back in. each flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. his dedication makes your head spin.

each flick of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge, the heat coiling tight in your belly. already sensitive from cumming once before, the familiar pleasure reaches a peak again. your body quivers in response, thighs trembling as you grip the sheets, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“toji,” you moan, breathless and desperate, your voice barely above a whisper. he responds with a low growl, his fingers tightening around your thighs as he feasts on you, drinking in every last drop.

that sweet tension snaps as you come undone, your body clenching around nothing, pleasure radiating outwards like ripples on water.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your core, his voice thick with lust as he licks you through your high, coaxing out the last remnants of your pleasure. the vibrations of his voice only deepen your bliss, drawing another soft whimper from your lips.

he rises from his place between your thighs, his body looming over yours. without a word, he lines himself up, pressing the tip of his cock against your slick entrance.

“ready for more?” he rasps.

you nod eagerly, and he pushes in, filling you completely. the stretch feels heavenly, igniting another wave of heat deep within you.

“that’s it, take it,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drives into you relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your breathless moans and his low growls of satisfaction.

toji’s pace quickens, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you can feel him chasing his own release. his breaths turn ragged, every grunt and groan resonating deep within you. “so close,” he hisses, sweat glistening on his skin as he leans down to bury his face in your neck.

he lets out a deep, guttural moan that reverberates through you. soon, he spills inside the condom, his hips stuttering against you as he groans your name. the sensation of him filling the condom mixed with the way his cock twitches against your g-spot sends you spiraling over the edge once more.

but neither of you can stop. there's this unspoken agreement to keep going, diving back into that intoxicating dance. your bodies move together, the bed creaking louder with each thrust, slamming against the wall in a frantic rhythm. every thrust, every moan fills the air, and you lose track of how many times you both cum, riding that blissful high again and again.

the room is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and as you finally collapse against each other, a soft laugh escapes your lips.

“think we might need a break,” you say, breathless and a bit giddy.

toji chuckles, his fingers brushing over your skin, “yeah, maybe just a short one.”

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nakahras · 6 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying.

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him.

he was… distant.

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong.

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door.

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom.

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion.

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris.

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around.

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…”

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face.

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features.

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp.

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched.

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn��t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways.

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.”

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire.

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button.

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs?

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same.

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was.

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.”

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance.

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease.

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in.

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him.

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared.

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek.

“c’mere…”

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused.

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

#dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd dazai #᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune #᯽. éli originals

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forever--darling · 10 months ago

Text

say yes to me

summary: anakin skywalker was like a forbidden fruit, the roommate to the guy that had been sleeping with your roommate for most of the school year. the very man who lived just down the hall from you & quite possibly the only man who was capable of silencing you, because he made you that nervous. you thought he had disliked you, despised you even, but it turns out when you lose one pair of red lacy underwear in the laundry room, that isn't quite the case.

pairings: anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 12.9k

warnings/notes: modern au, college!reader, SMUT, minors DNI, like actual filth, p & v, slight degradation, mentions of masturbation, slight enemies to lovers if you squint, dominant!anakin, public nudity (slightly), no protection mentioned (but please do use it), sorry not sorry, it had to be written.

masterlist

song inspo: lose face - daniel di angelo

Anakin Skywalker despised you. He did. He would never admit it. But it was the kind of disdain that had only appeared, almost bubbling over time since the very moment he met you, over your complete obliviousness when it came to him. Or it was more ignorance, perhaps.

You ignored him. His existence, his looming eyes that seemed to filter over your frame whenever the two of you were in the same room together, which was often. Often since you lived in the same apartment building and your two roommates had been fucking since a few weeks into the new semester. He would have to endure your impending silence, your lack of awareness of him for hours on end, sometimes many days in a row. It was excruciating how much he disliked you. Disliked those who got your attention, even his roommate, because it was something you would never give him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. How could he? You were gorgeous and hot, his attraction something evident from the beginning, but you could barely exchange a few words with him, let alone meet his eyes if it ever was just the two of you in a room, this one more rare. You seemed shy. Innocent. Unwilling to be tainted by him. Something he could understand, even get behind. That is until he noticed the way you interacted with others.

You were a Pre-Law major, and Pre-Law majors couldn’t afford to be shy or even mute like you appeared around him. It was a surprise when he found you late on a Friday night in their apartment, where his roommate was hosting a party, surrounded by five guys playing cards. A drink sat in front of you, lipstick stains coating the glass in the most enticing of pinks. A low-cut top that was tight hugged your torso, making it hard for Anakin to hold in any physical sound.

You were ethereal at that moment as you tipped your head back, laughing, eyelashes batting with ease — innocence void from your lustful gaze. You were putting every one of those five guys in their place, practically pulling the cash out of their wallets from simply your tongue, all while you threw progressive law jargon their way. All of which he could understand easily, far smarter than he ever let on but it all went over their ungrateful heads. You were intelligent, so breathtaking, and completely squandering it on meatheads like the ones his roommate often interacted with, and he hated them. Hated them because you would never look at him the way you did them.

Hated them because you seemed to despise him just as much as he did you, enough that your interactions were left to drown in the thickest silence. The kinds where his pants twitched, and he wished to force you against a wall, just so you would look at him, for once. It was all that he asked, to feel what it was like to have your eyes on his. To either face the itch he got for you head-on or come to terms that it was all in his head. That it all was manifested in the truest form of need; arousal.

How could he though when your roommate was at his apartment a few nights a week? The last thing he needed was for her to glare at him, and take him to be some asshole with a weird obsession that lacked boundaries. He couldn’t live in that reality, not when he was so much nicer, even without the possibility of your legs wrapped around him.

It didn’t mean it was easy. Truthfully it never was.

Especially that afternoon as he found you parading around your apartment building’s halls, laundry basket in hand, headphones pulled over your ears. It was actually almost painful. The way your loose university sweatpants hugged low on your waist, rolled once, dipping enough that he was able to see your naval piercing. Your shirt was small, a tanktop that left little to his imagination, especially your perky nipples that stuck out enough he noticed them right away. Your hair was pulled back by a clip, but a few pieces framed your face, and even that alone frustrated him. Frustrated him that you walked around like that, almost to torture him, almost oblivious to how you looked.

It seemed you were just as oblivious about his presence, evident in the way you walked into the laundry room on their floor, mouthing the words of the song you were listening to, hips swaying far too much, but blind to the fact that he was in the room too. Or you knew and just didn’t care. That was something he could believe, a hundred times.

He stood a few machines away from yours, pulling his clean laundry out from the washer to put in the dryer. His eyes flickered over to your form every few seconds. It seemed to be something he couldn’t help, unable to stop the way his blue irises traced the skin along your waist and how there was nothing but a thin shirt that separated your chest from him. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at you that way. If it was anyone else, it could have been creepy, but because it was him.

You hadn’t even looked his way, your eyes never gracing his form as being the one in the room and not just another guy from the floor. Anakin was sure, though, that if it had been anyone else, you would have acknowledged them. He hated how much he thought of it. Hated how much you hated him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word unable to slip as he saw you from the corner of his eye, bending over just enough to grab your dry laundry from the dryer.

He hated how he wasn’t in front of you or behind you for the view but rather just witnessing from the side of you the way your shirt loosened around your frame enough that he could have been able to see down your shirt. He was able to see the back material of your underwear hugging your hips, though. The thinness of it taunting like it could have snapped under one flick from his fingers.

You pulled your laundry out, slowly, almost purposefully dropping it in your laundry basket. It only took a minute or two but it felt longer when you finally stood closing the dryer door, with your laundry basket now balancing along your hip. You turned, and yet your eyes never found his, never once acknowledging his form there standing near the washer.

He hated how his chest tightened, the way his brows furrowed in frustration because you were likely avoiding him. Without a word ever spoken, a second of some sort of acknowledgment, though you could have been sitting in his apartment later that evening, you turned towards the door. You walked out, the door falling shut before you.

Anakin sighed, his hip leaning against the side of the washer as he stared at the spot you were once standing. His brows were still furrowed, but they relaxed, lifting instead as he noticed the left behind bright red garment on the floor. He smirked almost devishly then as he strode across the laundry floor, bent over and plucked it from the floor.

He tutted softly then, hating himself for how he clutched the thin piece of lace underwear in his hand like it was a lost treasure.

The apartment was dark all but for the overhead lights in the kitchen and the candles that decorated the countertop. You sat in your room, almost encompassed by darkness other than the sunset lamp on your windowsill and the lamp on your nightstand. You sat back against your pillows, university sweatpants loose along your waist, revealing most of your stomach as you stared at your phone, unable to stop yourself as you scrolled.

Harrison had posted a picture, one from the other night when the guys had gone out for drinks. Of course, he had been there. Anakin Skywalker. You almost let out a noise at the sight of him in the picture alone. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing how you stared at it for at least a minute, and even worse when you clicked on his profile name that was tagged. Something that happened more often than it should.

Your stomach tightened as the familiar page appeared, his profile picture enough to have your legs tightening involuntarily. It was easy to say that he was breathtaking, or perhaps the devil himself, because of just how tempting he truly was. From the way his short curls brushed along the back of his neck, the front swept out of his eyes, or his strong jaw that seemed to always appear clenched unless it was just always that sharp. His eyes. Oh god, those were the worst of all. The blue hues that you swore could burn holes into your very being. The sole reason you couldn’t even meet his gaze; not if you didn’t want him to know.

Know about your secret attraction that actually had you aching most nights. Nights where you couldn’t help but have your hands dip in between your legs, with him being the only one on your mind, the only voice you conjure up. It was unholy. It was wrong on so many levels, how much you wanted this man, so much so, you became mute when he appeared.

You were a fumbling idiot around him and you never had been with anyone else. Usually, you were the one who would make them squirm, but with Anakin, you found yourself dripping with a need you had never had before. It didn’t help that he was so fucking quiet, unable to say or initiate anything unless it was his eyes somehow taunting you. It was like he didn’t like you, unable to really say much if he wanted to keep the peace.

It was torture then as you were left to do nothing but stare and scroll aimlessly on his Instagram.

It was stupid how he was just as perfect in real life. Not a single fault to be had. Even as he stood in the laundry room that afternoon in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, it had you forcibly clenching your legs shut. The way his shirt hung on his frame was still tight enough to show his muscles underneath. It was casual in a way, something you would only notice if you looked hard enough, which you tended to always do.

There was nothing to do except act as if he wasn’t there, grab your laundry from the dryer as quickly as you could, and leave before he could say anything before it became too much that you felt like spreading your legs for him right then and there.

As you scroll down to the previous August and a shirtless picture of him in a boat appears, you couldn’t take it. You shut your phone off, dropped it onto your bed, and fell back against your pillows. Sighing, you stared up at the ceiling hating the bloom of warmth that was appearing in your chest.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the knock on your bedroom door had you looking over, already expecting the view before you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Your roommate stood in your doorway in her shower robe, towel wrapped around her head, concealing her pale blonde hair. Her freshly spray-tanned skin glowed after her shower. As you looked over at her, she raised her brows at you, curiosity appearing.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, stiffening as she glanced at your phone left faced down on your bed.

She hummed almost in interest but decided not to comment on it, instead taking in your appearance, still dressed in the clothes you had been in for the day as you cleaned the apartment and did your laundry, “Well then, that’s the problem. Girl, we have to be there in an hour.”

“It’s seriously ten steps down the hall,” you rolled your eyes, “I think we can be late. Why are we going anyway?”

“Because it’s Saturday night and he invited us.”

“I know, but we could be going out.”

“Why so you can go home with someone?” she asked, catching onto the heavy sight that left your parted lips.

You felt your tongue catch along your teeth and unable to defend yourself, Iris smiled, a laugh emitting with ease as a smirk appeared.

“That’s so funny,” she noted, so amused by your obvious frustrations, “You know there are going to be guys there.”

“New guys?” you asked sitting up then with new-found interest, “Not like all of the ones at Harrison’s last party?”

“Well, that I can’t know for sure. You were flirting with at least four of them while you were playing cards. You know, Harrison doesn’t have that many friends, right? So every time one of them is attractive and tries to have sex with you, it’s not like he can go out and find three new ones right away. I’m sure some of them will be there, yes.”

“Fuck.”

“But, you know, Anakin will also be there. Apparently, it was his idea for them to throw another one tonight. So, if you want to talk to him,” her voice slowed like she realized what she was saying as it echoed in her ears.

“Iris…”

“What?” she laughed, “Maybe if you just talk to him, you’ll realize you don’t have to go and click through his Instagram so much.”

“Iris!” you gasped, face already beginning to twinge with heat.

She chuckled, but that quieted at the sight of your embarrassment. If it was any other day, she would say more, but she had had that conversation with you so many times before. It would only sound the same. “What? Right, sorry, anyway, I think Harrison did tell me he invited some guys on his club soccer team. So, I guess you can talk to them.”

You huffed then, knowing that there was one reason you didn’t want to go the apartment down the hall, even if they did throw the best parties. “It’s just we are always there. Almost every weekend. I miss the bars. We’re legal, which means we should use them.”

“What’s wrong?” she questioned almost immediately, that furrowed look returning.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You never don’t want to go to the guys’. In fact, sometimes you’re the one who suggests it, especially if they are throwing a party.”

You were quiet, struggling to find an excuse, anything, as the thought of Anakin Skywalker flashed across your head, the picture of him shirtless still very much the screen that would appear when you unlocked your phone.

“Y/N. Speak. If this is about Anakin Skywalker, I swear—”

“I just thought something else could be fun, that’s all,” you shrugged.

Her expression faltered slightly. She and Harrison weren’t even officially dating, and still, the thought of not seeing him that night pulled all the excitement out of her. You knew then you wouldn’t be getting your way. “I mean, we can. I would just have text the girls and tell them that—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get dressed,” your voice cut hers off, a sheepish smile appearing, knowing that you had just doomed yourself for the rest of the night.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, it slightly fake, dread appearing in your stomach, “As long as we don’t go early and we have a round of shots when get there.”

The hallway was dim, the low lights not as bright as usual, the beige walls seeming to be the only thing able to hold your attention as you trailed after Iris, your hands nervously fiddling with one another. Sometimes you were lucky, as Anakin was not always at the parties his roommate liked to host. Other times, he would show up late, allowing you to settle and drink lots of alcohol to prepare for his presence. And rarely he never showed up at all or was there from the beginning. Tonight would be the latter, and you weren’t ready.

Even with the two drinks heavily poured with vodka, you felt unsteady, anxious, and warm. It was like the further you walked down the hallway, the more the walls seemed to warp within your mind into a funhouse. It was as if you were high on something, distorting your sense of reality, but really, it was just your heart beating so loudly in your ears and the lack of dinner getting to you.

You couldn’t eat, not as you paced around your room, half of your closet thrown onto the floor, one drink already leaving rings of water on your coaster upon your desk. It was humiliating. Actually, the worst thing to ever happen to you, as no man had ever done this to you. They couldn’t. It seemed impossible, and yet there you were, acting like a blithering idiot who would surely remain throughout the night until you were too drunk to notice.

“Y/N, you’re walking slower than my grandma here,” Iris called behind you, stopping near the guys’ door, a chuckle echoing off the walls mixing with the sound of the loud music inside.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled back, trying to speed up but almost feeling as if you would fall with how much your legs were shaking.

“Are you even going to talk to the guy?” she suddenly asked, turning to face you fully, her hands on her hips and a single brow raised.

“W-What?”

“Anakin. Are you going to talk to him tonight, finally? Or is this just how you’re going to act about seeing him.”

You sighed, her words registering, making you question truly what you were so nervous about, “Iris, I…”

“Look, if you want to talk to him, that’s fine, but if you’re just like this because he is going to be there, you need to take a second and breathe. Y/N, he’s just a guy. That’s it. A guy you don’t even talk to, trust me when I say he is not that special. You’ve spent enough time in the same room as him to know that.”

“Right,” you whispered, suddenly finding your shoes more interesting to stare at as you felt your roommate speak. The heat in your face was only worsening, “He’s just a guy.”

He was, and yet he drove you crazy.

It was disappointing to find that Iris had to be the one to remind you of that when you had spent the past two years of college seeming to be the one always reminding her of that. You were the one who seemed to understand men, especially idiotic man-child twenty-something-year-olds, and yet here you stood in the hallway of your apartment complex, her finally being the one to give you the reminder.

Sure, Anakin Skywalker was just a man.

A twenty-one-year-old man who was quite possibly carved from the most expensive and luxurious marble and gold. He dressed in baggy jeans and warm sweaters, some of which seemed to be designer. He was quiet, unfunny at times, and was so frustrated all of the time. He wasn’t perfect, yet he seemed better than any of the guys you had liked in the past. The loose term was not used often.

“Just a guy,” she smiled, keeping her sarcasm on lockdown as she reached for your forearm and began to drag you towards the door, “I have never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, lowering your voice further as you stood outside of the door, confusion-filled gaze meeting her curious one.

“You this obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed,” you glared, finding your chest to tighten in discomfort at the thought.

“Fine. I just mean, usually you don’t care. You never have, and somehow he has you sweating and unable to speak coherently.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Okay, well, whatever it’s like, it’s cute,” she laughed, it only getting louder as you bumped her side with your own, almost begging for her to stop. “You’ve never acted like this over a guy.”

“Are we going to fucking stand out here all night, or are we going to go inside?” you asked rather flatly, not caring how it sounded as long as it meant she would stop staring at you the way that she was.

She only smirked, nothing else left to say as your face said at all. The gentle blush on your cheeks, the way you were trying to avoid eye contact, most of your confidence waning as you stood there, outside of that apartment door.

Shrugging, she finally reached for the doorknob and opened the door with ease. The second the door was cracked, the music became increasingly louder, enough to make you cringe at the way the bass echoed in your ears. Usually, you welcomed it; the sound, the smell of cigarettes and marijuana, the stickiness on the floors by the end of the night, the way you always stumbled your way back to your apartment only a few feet away. It was a life you had gotten used to, and yet you dreaded it all that night.

Iris stepped in with ease, and you followed, inhaling as you did with the smell of cigarettes hitting you straight in the face. Even with the windows open, allowing the winter air to bask in the room, it wasn’t enough to completely drown out the smell. I

t was dark in the apartment, all but the LED lights that hung up around the ceiling, paired with a spinning disco ball on the coffee table, which Harrison swore by every single time.

There was maybe a total of ten people in the room so far, but you knew it wouldn’t be this easy to walk through by the end of the night. As soon as the door was shut behind you, concealing you both inside, it was like he had known she was there. All of a sudden, you heard Harrison’s loud voice from across the room, him standing from where he was leaning against his sound system.

“Ah, you guys made it!” Harrison strode over in a pair of baggy jeans and a graphic t-shirt, his arms immediately finding Iris’ hips, giving away that he had already been drinking for a bit. “You’re later than I thought you were going to be.”

“I texted you,” she mumbled, chuckling lightly.

“I know, but…” his voice trailed off slightly, and his bluish-green eyes found your frame still almost pressed against the front door, and it was like he had connected the dots. “Y/N.”

“Harrison, hi,” you smiled sheepishly while also trying to peer around him to the rest of the people that filled the living room, hoping but equally dreading catching sight of a head of short curls.

“What, you didn’t want to come tonight?”

He was joking, he always was, as he spun Iris around so her back was pressed to his front. You laughed, it so fake as you tried to hide it all but your roommate could see through you easily. “What? No. You're a funny guy, you know that? We always come to your parties.”

“Yeah, but you’re usually one of the first ones here.”

“Relax,” you rolled your eyes, “Clearly, we’re still here early enough. Great turnout.”

“There are more people coming, asshole,” he laughed, pulling his hat by the brim down further across his forehead, concealing his blonde short, cropped hair.

“Oh yeah? Anyone worth talking to?”

“You told her about the guys from my soccer team, didn’t you?” that question was directed down towards Iris, who suddenly peered up at her non-boyfriend boyfriend with both guilt and humor.

“What?” she shrugged.

His eyes found yours again, that playful look now filling yours, “They’ll be here in about an hour or so. Just can you try not to screw them over?”

“Me?” you feigned a laugh, “I could never. How do I look, though? Something they would be interested in?”

Doing almost a little curtsy with your Converse squeaking against their hardwood floor, you turned after a moment. Noting the baggy jeans and the black sheer tube top, Harrison laughed almost in disbelief but could only look over his shoulder towards his own roommate, who sat in the middle of their couch, legs sprawled out, head dipped back as he snubbed out the cigarette that was in between his fingers. “Hm, you know you could go ask Anakin? He has expensive taste.”

You felt yourself freeze, hating the way they both laughed, equally looking back into the room. Following their gaze, you stiffened further as you found him, sure to be the only thing that you would focus on for the rest of the night. Especially if he were to be sitting that way for most of it. You felt like a deer in headlights as you peered over Harrison’s shoulder, eyes trailing over the way his legs were spread wide, his back leaned into the couch, and his head tilted back as he blew out rings of smoke.

He wore dark jeans and a black knit-long sleeve; underneath the collar, his white t-shirt poked out. His hair was pushed back out of his face, and the curls along his neck and around his ears seemed perfect even in the dark.

He would be the death of you.

Your mouth was dry, and suddenly, your fresh sarcasm was gone as he sat up against the couch, his stare almost splitting through the room to find the three of you. His expression was unreadable, almost cold, and you hated the way they found yours immediately.

You looked away, aware of the way the other two were intently making notes about the interaction. Side-stepping into the kitchen out of eye-sight from the roommate, you glared back at Harrison, “I hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

“I thought you said you were going to make me a shot when I got here.”

“What do you want?” Harrison asked, his arms dropping around Iris, instead allowing his hand to find a place along her back, guiding her to follow him into the kitchen.

“The strongest thing you got,” you suggested peering up at the masses of liquor upon the cabinets, a devilish look appearing in your eyes as you smiled innocently back at the man.

He sighed that familiar Harrison sigh, the one where he knew there would be no stopping you that night, not as you came over with a box full of seltzers and a large handle of tequila. You were looking for trouble or perhaps something to ease the noise into nothing but silence within your mind. Either way, he couldn’t tell, and though Iris was looking at him, almost afraid to let him give you the shot that would start a very long night, she just shrugged anyway.

A long night it would become.

By the time it was eleven-thirty, the apartment was full of many familiar faces, the typicals you saw at almost every party, and then masses of the very unfamiliar. Some of them including Harrison’s very cute and very athletically-built soccer teammates. It had become your mission to catch at least one of their eyes quickly as if to avoid the looming stare from across the room that you were sure would have you dripping humiliatingly if you focused on him too long.

When he moved, you did too. Further away, it seemed, anything to keep your distance, almost afraid of what you could say if given the chance to. The alcohol wasn’t enough because just knowing he was in the same apartment had you unable to think about anything or anyone else. Even when you were four seltzers deep and a quarter of the way through with the concoction that had become of your water bottle, Anakin Skywalker was all you could think about.

It had been hours, hours of dancing awkwardly, avoiding the cards table, and yet you felt unaccomplished with the night. The ache between your legs was enough proof as it was, but you knew that couldn’t be taken care of by anyone unless it was Anakin. Even as the lanky soccer player with fluffy brown hair and bright eyes practically had you concealed against the wall in the living room, your mind was completely inept at what he was saying.

He was hot, relatively, nothing like Anakin, but enough that you would have slept with him. His hands were ghosting over your waist, one tickling the bare skin above your jeans, the other leaning against the wall, caging you in against his warm frame. His eyes were hooded, a look in them you knew all too well, but one you were sure you wouldn’t act on.

“You know, Harrison warned me about you,” he joked, it sounding so deep that his name somehow slipped from your mind, unable to be retrieved.

Your lips were wrapped around the straw of your drink, eyes peering up at his through your lashes, and you couldn’t help but smile, almost like a tantalizing forbidden fruit. “Really? Is that so? And do you think you should have listened to him?”

“No, not at all. That’s the funny part, I guess. Told me you would probably have your pick of us for the night.”

Your smile lessened slightly as a discomfort appeared front and center within your chest. You flirted. That wasn’t something you would deny, but the way he was putting it made you feel like you were other girls that they talked to. Ready to offer themselves like a consolation prize by spreading their legs just to never be spoken to again. You flirted, but you never really gave them what they wanted, and that’s why Harrison was cautious about bringing new guys around. They would chase after something they’d never get, and you would string them along as a form of entertainment. Or that’s what he thought.

It never had been like that, not even as guys started to notice you freshman year of college. It was never supposed to be a game but rather something else entirely.

You shifted back towards the wall, eyes dropping to your cup, the way it was nearly empty, the last few drops clinging to the bottom of the glass. The guy spoke again, and you found your brows furrowing in discomfort. “I’m just glad it was me if I’m being honest.”

They always thought that way. That it was them. That they were something special, as if worthy of your attention, but it never was about them.

You sighed, head falling back against the wall as his hand rose along your bare skin, almost inching to move up and under your shirt. A second of dissociation left you looking over his shoulder at the crowd of people around you, filling the living room to be full and packed. You scanned their faces trying to find anything that you knew could ground you.

Instead, there was only one thing, one person, and it made it all so much worse.

Peering through the room within the darkness of flashing vibrant lights and smoke, you somehow found him, only a few feet away or so. At the sight, it was almost like your legs were going to give out from beneath you. He would never not have an effect on you. It didn’t matter how stupid you felt, how humiliating it was. Inevitably, Anakin Skywalker would always have you wrapped around his finger.

He was leaning against the wall near the sound system, surrounded by Harrison and a few of their other guy friends. His arms were crossed over his chest, arms bulging slightly under the material of his shirt. Smoke billowed around the group from cigarettes, vapes, and joints alike, yet his hands were empty. He wasn’t listening to anything they were saying. He couldn’t have been because, just as quickly as you found him, he was already peering over at you.

His blue eyes, almost as sharp as steel as they traced your frame, pressed up against the wall under the soccer player, your drink cradled close to your chest. You almost physically shuddered, having not expected it, not in the slightest. His lips were pulled into a fine line, brows slightly furrowed in a way that made you want to ease the small wrinkle, pulling every frustration clean from his body.

Yet you felt intimidated because, after all, it was a look that was directed at you. One that often wasn’t.

His expression barely flickered or faltered, even as your eyes so clearly locked with his. Instead, he could only lift a single brow in your direction in interest. It was like a challenge, almost as if he was daring you to do something you would regret, something he wouldn’t like.

“Hey,” the guy’s voice broke through your facade, a gentle mumble as his hand squeezed your hip. The feeling brought your eyes to flicker back to him but only for a second before you were glancing back at Anakin. “Are you listening?”

You weren’t. Instead too distracted by the man across the room, whose jaw had suddenly tightened.

“I… uh, need to get another drink,” you forced a smile, voice gentle as you gestured to the empty cup.

“Do you want me to get it?” he asked then, yelling over the music, and you hated the way it made you feel.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be right back,” you replied, almost like a false promise, as you slipped under his arm, separating his frame from yours completely, and with it, a weight seemed to dissipate. The ability to breathe suddenly a grace you didn’t know you were missing.

It was like you could feel his eyes following your frame. The coldness that was his blue orbs as you swerved your way through the crowd of people, bumping into them as you went, recognizing very few. Iris had been gone from your side for almost an hour, somehow slipping away with Harrison’s cousin to talk about probably Harrison. You had been left to fend for yourself, which was nothing new. Something you had done the whole semester prior, and yet it was the first time, you couldn’t stand the thought.

Even as the alcohol had left you swaying, vision slightly blurred, and mind a slurring mess, there wasn’t much comfort in the feeling. You managed to squeeze you were way to the kitchen, the music enough to have your ears echoing. Sighing, you found only a few people littered throughout, mixing new drinks or leaning against the countertops to speak too closely. It would be too good to be true to find it empty.

Slipping into the kitchen, which seemed nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment, you found the corner of the countertop where you had been taking alcohol from all night. Harrison had been kind enough to offer you something better than what you had mixed, and it had become the thing you began to drink as soon as your seltzers were long since chugged. Reaching for the liquor bottle, you uncapped it and began to pour, heavier than you had been before. Mixing the remainder of the lemonade in, you picked it up, already reading for the strong sip.

“How many of those have you had?”

The voice was low but loud as it spoke over the music. Scaring you, you turned around on your heels quickly, the drink nearly spilling all over you if it wasn’t for his hand that came to grasp the cup, part of his palm covering your own. It was warm.

“Fuck,” you whispered, the only vocal response to how close he was and all of a sudden.

“Careful,” Anakin chuckled, taking the drink from your hand, to which you pouted in dismay, hating how he pulled it closer to himself.

You stared, expression wary as he towered over you, closer than he ever had before, his eyes tracing the startled look as if he were the predator cornering his prey. His stare flickered following the way your chest rose and fell, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you stared up at him, eyes slightly glassed over from the amount of alcohol you had.

God, you hated him. You really did as he stared down at you, smirking the way he was, only a few inches away. If you leaned closer, your chest would press against his, and at the thought, you had to squeeze your legs shut, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as you pressed yourself back against the countertop.

A glint appeared as he noticed the way you shifted with discomfort, something he knew wasn’t a common occurrence with you. Tilting his head innocently, he glanced down at your drink, which now was in his grasp, a teasing tone emitting, “You never answered my question. How many of these have you had?”

You shrugged, trying to wipe off the look on your face as if you could picture it was anyone else in front of you. “I don’t know. A few.”

“How many is a few?” he demanded, eyes tracing the way you swayed on your feet, almost like he could know your head was spinning, nearly seeing two of him.

“You want a number?” you laughed, thinking he was joking.

His expression never faltered, “Yes.”

“Three, maybe four, I don’t know.”

He hummed, almost like he was dissatisfied with the answer. Instead of offering the drink back to you, he brought it closer to himself, that serious look never disappearing. “You should be done for the night.”

“Really?” you mused, a single brow raising at his tone.

“Yeah, in fact, I’ll finish this one off for you. Maybe try a water there, Y/L/N,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips, covering where your lipstick stains had been.

He took a sip, and you felt your blood boil out of both annoyance and something else. He wasn’t even touching you, and yet there was more of a reaction out of you than earlier when the soccer player had his hands inching up your shirt. It seemed he knew that too, and it was infuriating.

“Anakin!”

“By the way, your flavor of the night is looking for you. I think I saw him over by the bathroom where Iris was waiting. I’m sure he was asking about you.”

“You know what,” you said then, raising your hands up in the air, an almost look of acceptance on your face as you slipped out from under his frame you hadn’t realized had gotten so close, “Fine.”

With that, you walked away out of the kitchen, palm empty of your drink and heart heavy by the man who had taken it so easily from you. It was like taking candy from a baby, you almost offered it willingly if it meant getting a few more seconds being pressed close to him, his blue eyes tracing your drunken frame.

He had gotten you then. He was under your skin, had practically dug himself a hole, and you knew you couldn’t; not willingly go find Harrison’s teammate just to think about someone else all night. How much further could you even go than flirting? You usually wouldn’t, and you definitely couldn’t, not that night, not in that state, not when Anakin Skywalker flashed through your mind on repeat, feeding the worst desires.

The apartment was hot, still messy, lingering with stenches of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. It was like all of the sweaty bodies were still gathered within their living room when really it was nearly three a.m., most of the lights were turned off, and the only thing that could be seen was Harrison and Iris slightly tangled on the couch. Anakin was slumped over on their second couch, now in a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely off his frame and dark long sleeve. His head lulled to the side as he stared at the TV in front of him, unable to really get comfortable on the couch with the warmth of the room.

Unable to open the window due to them being almost frozen shut, he sat up, his feet meeting the floor. He wanted to sleep. It was the only thing he could think about; hoping it would be enough to quiet the thoughts along with the twitch of his dick. But he couldn’t, not as he felt the sweat along his eyebrow and the smell that seemed to not dissipate even long after he thought he had gotten used to it.

“Fuck, it still smells.”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe open the door, see if it airs out in the hallway,” Harrison said, his words slurring slightly, his eyes narrowing in tiredness.

Anakin became deadpan then, “The door? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Or not. Whatever.”

“Well, do we have a fan or something?” Anakin offered, standing from the couch in the darkness, stretching his arms up and over his head, “I had one, but I can’t remember the last time I saw mine or even used it.”

Harrison peered up at his roommate, a shy smile on his face seeming oblivious or rather uncaring of the problem at hand, too focused on the feeling of Iris’ head resting along his collarbone. It was then the girl perked up, her eyes shifting away from the TV and the creepy murder documentary she had recommended.

Her blonde hair peeked up from the couch, and she chuckled lightly at the realization, “That’s because we have it.”

“What do you mean we?” Anakin replied, brows raising slightly in interest.

“Y/N and I…” she said carefully, “Harrison let us borrow it at the beginning of the semester when our AC system gave out. I’m pretty sure we forgot to give it back. It’s in our linen closet.”

He stared down at her, somehow at a loss of what to say or if that meant she was willing to get up and give it to him then or expected him to wait. Before he could decide, she reached the coffee table and picked up her keys before tossing them to Anakin.

“Here. Take my keys, you can go grab it.”

Catching them, he stared down at it on the brass key ring, the very key that led to your apartment. An apartment you very much could have been in fucking around with one of the new guys’ Harrison had introduced you to. Anakin’s hand tightened around the keyset at the thought, a certain discomfort appearing at even the picture he could conjure up. The guy had been practically all over you all night, and you hadn’t done anything to reject his advances. Instead, you let them happen all while a set of eyes were staring at you from across the room.

“I… uh.”

“Relax,” she laughed, “Y/N said she was going to shower and go to bed. You’re not going to run into any naked soccer players fleeing from her bedroom.”

“Funny,” Anakin glared, a fake smile appearing as he noticed the familiar glint that had appeared on his roommate’s face. Not ready for the constant teasing, he stepped out of the living room towards the front door.

Walking out, he barely processed the sound of the door closing behind him, too focused on the key in his hand. It took less than a minute when he came face to face with the dark door. Tall with gold brass located in the middle displaying just how it differed from all the rest — what it meant. The numbers he thought about more often than he should.

802.

Fuck. He thought about it too much, so much so it felt easy to let the key slide into the hole and unlock the door with a mere turn of his wrist. Stepping through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was how refreshing it felt compared to the smell of his apartment. It was cooler in there, with a smell of almost clean laundry and vanilla. He couldn’t help but wonder if the whole apartment smelled that way or if somehow your room was different.

The floors matched the ones in his dark paneling that showed all of the dirt that fell on them. There were a few entrance rugs he couldn’t see much in the dark, as well as the entrance to the kitchen. He wanted to look around, turn on a light to take it all in, but he couldn’t, not with you only a few doors away, possibly naked and in the shower. He felt so gross about it, that he cared so much.

Especially as your underwear sat in the top drawer of his dresser. He had been contemplating about it all night, just how he could bring it up or return it to you. But he wasn’t sure the best approach without it coming off as disgusting. If he told Iris, she would never look at him the same, probably confused why he had them at all. Harrison would only make jokes, almost applauding Anakin, just to take Iris’ side when he tried to pass them off to her. And you, he couldn’t even think about what your reaction might look like upon finding out that he had your underwear, had them all day.

Moving further into the apartment, he entered the vast hallway just as Iris had explained, eyes locating in the dark the few doorways that appeared. With his flashlight on, he was able to find it halfway down the hall on the left. Just as he opened the door, though, he took notice of the dim light a door down, a purple hue peeking out from it that was left cracked open. With the familiar sound of The Weekend, Anakin smirked as he picked his way through the linen closet.

There on the top shelf was his fan.

Grabbing it, he shut the linen closet, but halted in front of the door, a new sound grabbing his attention. A breathy sigh, almost like a huff of frustration. His shoulders stiffened slightly, stomach tightening at the sound alone. As another noise slipped, but much louder paired with the gentle lull of a vibration, Anakin knew for sure. Knew that you were getting yourself off, and he couldn’t ignore just how pretty it sounded.

It was too much, so he stepped away from your door towards the other end of the hallway, but he had only made it two steps before he felt himself stop.

“Ani…” The whimper was not quiet, and he felt his jaw tighten at the way the syllables formed on your lips.

The sounds were louder, your moan breathtaking.

Anakin’s hand cupped his dick, your voice going straight to it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but they snapped back open as another one echoed out from your room, this one a little more desperate.

“Oh, Anakin.”

He didn’t know how he didn’t drop that fucking fan. Wasn’t sure if it would slip through his fingers or if he would throw it on purpose, anything to make his presence known. Anything to make the sounds continue but due to his fingers rather than your own. He had never felt such pain then at that moment as he forced himself to walk away, the sounds of you undoing yourself deliberately with his name breaking apart across your tongue.

There wasn’t a doubt then anymore. Not a single ounce of question.

It seemed that was enough to know. Enough to have figured out just exactly what to do with the red lacy underwear that sat tucked into the top drawer of his dresser.

“No, fuck, where is it?”

The sound of your voice grumbling from your room droned out into the hallway. Your hands were shoved into the bottom of your dresser drawer, rummaging through the clean laundry you had folded the day before. The sole piece of clothing you were looking for was nowhere in sight. As soon as you hadn’t found it near the top when you had started getting ready for your date, you felt your chest tighten. You groaned loudly, arms balancing along your knees as you moved to find it not hidden somewhere in your laundry basket either.

“Y/N/N, I’m going to head to work,” Iris poked her head inside, but her voice trailed off at the sight of you crouched in the middle of the room, tearing apart your dresser drawers. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t find them,” you mumbled out.

“Find what?”

You sighed, almost hesitant to even say it out loud, “My panties. The red ones.”

“The ones with lace?” she asked, for clarification, her brows raising in interest.

“Yes, I washed them yesterday, I swear.”

“Don’t you have your date tonight?” she asked, eyes looking around the room, spotting the few outfits you had laid out across your bed and the mounds of makeup and hair products spread out at your vanity. “The one with Harrison’s teammate?”

“Yeah, Cole.”

At the name, a flash of recognition formed across Iris’ face. It was the same guy you had been with most of the night before at the party, practically pressed up against a wall as he eye fucked you for most of the night. By the end of it, you were so drunk he hadn’t even gotten a kiss out of you, only your number. He texted you that morning about going out for drinks and dinner. You were hesitant at first, almost inclined to say no, but then something else made you change your mind. Perhaps the sight from the night before of the smirk that laced over Anakin’s face as he teased you about Cole. No inclination at all that it bothered him, the sight of you pressed up against someone else. It was annoying, so annoying, that you couldn’t help but say yes to Cole for a date.

What else were you going to do?

Anakin Skywalker barely spoke to you and noticed your presence. It was a joke. All of it.

Iris smiled smugly, then down at you as you continued to search through the dresser drawer. “And you need your red lacy panties for a first date?”

“I mean, I don’t need them, just want them, you know, in case.”

“Who are you right now?” she laughed, the sound bringing your attention away from your underwear drawer. Her arms were crossed over her chest, that smile still evident as a hint of amusement flashed across her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t usually think about sleeping with a guy until at least the fourth or fifth date. The last time you were talking to someone, you made him hold out for the sixth date just to ask him to leave after twenty minutes of making out. And you want to wear your sex underwear on the first date?”

“I’m not a prude, you know,” you laughed too, your anxiety easing slightly even though your favorite underwear was still missing.

“I never said you were. I’m just saying, you’re different. That’s all.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

She shook her head, almost a sense of pride appearing, “No. Not at all. Anyway, I should go.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you replied over your shoulder, your attention going back to the clothes scattered around you.

“Yeah, have fun on your date. I can’t wait to hear how it goes. Oh, and maybe try looking in the laundry room.”

You cringed almost at the thought that they had somehow been left in there overnight, all while other people were coming in and out to do their laundry, “Right.”

Standing from your bedroom floor, you looked around the room one more time before inevitably giving up. Instead, you slid on a pair of shoes, and left the apartment, the door closing and echoing behind you. Making your way down the hall, you passed the guys’ door and the memories from the night before flashed again in your head. Anakin taking your drink, cutting you off from anything for the rest of the night. You wish you wouldn’t have listened and continued to sneak some. You didn’t have to listen to him at all. That was the funniest part, and you did it anyway.

Entering the laundry room, the automatic lights clicked on upon your entrance illuminating the room in cascades of bright LEDs. It was warm, just like it usually was when someone was doing their laundry. The familiar rumble of the dryer and washers caught your attention. The sound of it clouded your thoughts as you approached the washer and dryer you had been using the day before.

With one simple open of the stainless steel washer, you found it empty of any sort of clothing. You sighed, the annoyance deepening at the thought of having lost them. Expensive underwear you had bought on your trip to France over the summer. A pair Iris had to convince you to buy because you typically weren’t one for buying sexy underwear. It was the pair that opened the vault for you, leading you to not only buy so many more since then but a string of memories confined to that pair of lace, all from the few pairs of hands that had slid them down your legs with ease late into the night.

It was your favorite pair of underwear.

The only pair you felt like wearing on nights when you knew inevitably they would end up on someone’s floor.

“Fuck,” you cursed again lowly as you stepped over to the dryer you had used.

Sure enough, as you opened and closed it, you found it just as empty as the other machine you had checked. Your stomach dropped at the thought, and it had come to desperate measures as you crouched down near the machines and began looking around them on the floor.

It was not your proudest moment, and that only became clear as it only lasted around thirty seconds when you heard the door open, paired with a voice you were dreading to have to face anytime soon.

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes closed, your breath falling short in your throat. Sighing, you stood from where you were crouched along the floor, surely giving him a show in the shorts you had been wearing since your shower that afternoon. You wouldn’t turn to face him, not if it meant seeing some sort of teasing look appear. It was embarrassing enough. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to the dryer, peering over the back of it, hoping just maybe the red lace would appear behind it.

“I am looking for something.”

Anakin chuckled, subtly tracing the curve of your ass through your pajama shorts, his fingers curling around the silky material in his pocket. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Well, maybe if you told me, I could help,” he offered, and at that, you froze.

Turning around slowly, you faced him, heart picking up at the sight of him alone. He looked just as fine as he had the night before, maybe even a little bit more. He wore jeans, ones that were loose around his frame, paired with a hoodie, hiding away the definition of his torso you craved to see after so long. His hair was slightly damp, leaving a ringlet curl along his forehead. It was slightly shorter, too, the back especially, meaning he had gotten a haircut. You had thought you would be sad when he had finally done it, cut the small curls that lay along the back of his neck, but now that he had, you couldn’t help but stare, knees practically giving out at how good he truly looked.

Sure enough, that smirk was plastered along his face, paired with a glint you knew all too well.

“Help? You want to help me?”

He shrugged, “It could maybe make it go faster. You look like you need to be somewhere.”

It was the most he had ever said to you. The last two days had crossed every line that had been between the two of you over the past four months of knowing one another. This was it. The past two days of his intimidating stares and forceful words.

Placing your hands on your hips, you raised a brow over at him interest, “And why would you think that?”

He stepped closer, and that alone had your chest rattling and hands practically shaking. He was so tall, so breathtaking, and you had wanted him for so long, so badly, it had consumed you. Just the sight of him as he stood before you, looming over your frame, had your core twitching, aching already, and he hadn’t even touched you. There was the reality that he probably wouldn’t.

His tongue clicked along the roof of his mouth, his blue orbs falling to trace over your bare legs, freshly tanned, smooth, up to the short baby tee that hugged your frame; no bra. You looked as if you were ready to settle in for the night, but he knew better.

“You did your makeup,” he said, observingly, “And you look as if you put something in your hair. Maybe, styled it for someone. You got a hot date or something?”

Your mouth was dry, and you had to look away, guilt appearing that you would be with another man that night, all while you would probably be thinking about him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he chuckled, the deep sound making your legs clench slightly. “Harrison’s teammate from last night? I could see him asking you out just to get in your pants.”

“Stop,” you fumed, brows furrowing in annoyance, arms crossing over your chest, “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. So, what are we looking for Y/L/N? What’s going to make you late for this dick appointment?”

“You know what. Forget it. I can find it myself.”

“No, no, come on, now. I’m just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, that smirk widening, almost getting off at the sight of your pout and knitted brows. “Seems like you might need it? So, what a top? A bra, maybe, something he’ll want to pull off of you later.”

“Anakin,” you warned as he took a step closer, his head tilting antagonizingly, taking in how your chest rose and fell nervously. There was still a foot or so between you and yet you couldn’t help but step back until you were up against the dryer, the warmth of it felt through your shorts.

“Or is it not either of those things? No. Can’t be,” he paused, voice trailing off as his stare flickered down to your lips, “Underwear?”

Your lips parted in shock, stomach turning at the way it sounded like he was trying to torture you with his presence.

“So that’s it? Panties, huh? Must be some nice fucking ones if they have you bent over in the laundry room looking for them. What do they look like? I’m sure I can find them.”

You couldn’t form words, not as he taunted you, even from so far away. Not as his hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants, the most casual look about him. He alluded to sex just from how he looked, and that was hard enough, but him standing in front of you, lips glistening from his saliva, spouting these things at you, they might as well have been the dirtiest things a guy has ever said. They had you wet. You knew they did, and it had you shrinking in humiliation. Humiliation that he could say your name alone, and it would have you so pent up to the point of reaching for that familiar blue vibrator on your bedside table, desperately trying to relieve the tension he built up inside of you.

Inhaling, you tried to relax. “They’re lace.”

“Okay. See-through?” he asked, unable to say it with a straight face.

“Yes.” The word was so quiet coming from your lips, almost like a whisper.

The tip of his tongue traced over the top set of his teeth, highlighting his cuspids you wanted more than anything to bite into your neck. All while his hand dug between your legs. The thought fell away though at his next words, them enough to have your heart stop altogether.

“They wouldn’t be red by chance, are they?”

Your mouth fell open in shock, and for a second, you thought he was going to take hold of your lower lip to close it, anything to touch you, but he didn’t. Why would he? With widened eyes and that knitted expression forming once again across your face, you were silent as you watched his hand appear from his pocket, that all too familiar red color appearing before your eyes.

“Or something like these, right?” he held them out on his index finger, the expensive material from France staring back at you, “Fuck, I didn’t expect it, Y/L/N. That you could own a pair like this.”

Your face felt warm, annoyed, and embarrassed by his taunt. Enough that you reached forward to pluck them from his hand, but he pulled his hand back further to keep you from taking hold of them.

“Anakin,” you warned, hand out stretched.

“You know, you should pay closer attention when you do your laundry. Some creep in the building could have picked them up instead of me. Who knows what would have happened to them then.”

It was like he could see the steam coming out of your ears, the heat on your face that he somehow could see even past your makeup. He was frustrating you, and he could do it all day, every day, he decided.

“Give them to me.”

“Or what?” he quipped, “Tell me why I should? Just so some guy can take them off of you later. Some guy you don’t even want to fuck you.”

“Stop this,” you whispered, it almost sounding like a plea as you tried to reach for the underwear again, but as you did, he pulled his hand away. This time, going as far as to stuff them into the back pocket of his jeans. You groaned in annoyance at the sight. “You’re being an asshole.”

“And you’re a fucking liar,” he taunted, stepping closer again. This time until he was no more than a few inches away. Your body was fully pressed against the dryer then, it hot along the skin on the back of your thighs. “So admit it.”

“Admit what?”

He leaned closer, his lips nearly tracing the shell of your ear, all while his hands moved up, fingers brushing across your bare ribs so softly it hadn’t felt real. They slipped away, instead pressing along the dryer behind you that was still running. He had you caged in, his chest warm against yours.

“That you want this. That you want me.”

A breathy sigh fell away, your lips practically trembling as all of the hair on your body seemed to stand straight up.

He continued, “You say I’m the asshole but you’re the one who walks around doing your laundry in nothing but a skimpy shirt. You fucking want me to see you like that, don’t you? Like this? You want to tempt me. But that’s the thing isn’t it? You only act like a whore if it means getting my attention. Isn’t that right?”

“Anakin…” his name almost sounding like a moan as it slipped, body leaning further into his involuntarily.

“Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it, and I’m yours.”

You sighed, the most hopeless sound because he had you. He always did. How was it happening? You weren’t sure, but it was all that mattered. “Fine, I want you.”

He smiled a grin that was so full of himself as he reached forward, his hand gripping your jaw so firmly in his hand. It happened so quick, then, the feeling of him pulling you forward. It was almost like you could have gotten whiplash as his lips consumed you, enveloping you in what could only be described as pure sin. Without a moment to even feel them on yours, his tongue was parting your lips, slipping in without you giving much of a fight. A moan was ripped free from your throat as he branded you over and over, his taste coated along your tongue, faintly tasting of mint gum and cigarettes.

Somehow it wasn’t anything you thought it would be like. It was better, intangible, unable to fully grasp until it was happening, leaving you to spin, to drip with need, and in a way, begging for penance. His body collided with yours, his other hand roughly grabbing your hip, slamming you further into the dryer, the vibration of it catching your attention as he did so. As his knee parted your legs, you twitched, the feeling of his clothed knee too much as he pressed it up against your core.

Gasping, your hands shot forward, pushing at his chest. It was enough for his lips to part from yours, with a string of his saliva pooling around the corners of your lips. “Wait, not here.”

You looked around the empty laundry room, suddenly awfully aware of the possibility for anyone to walk in. Especially those who had their laundry going in the machines.

He chuckled, the sound making your legs clench again, but this time around, his knee stood in the way. He smirked at the sight, his voice lowering, “Yes, here.”

You couldn’t deny how it had made you feel, the dominance doing something to you. So much so that you relaxed under his hooded eyes, giving in once again. It was enough of an answer for him as he immediately went to your cotton shorts, yanking them down from your hips. The material loosened and pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but the black pair of soft panties you had slipped on after your shower.

“Not red,” he chuckled, hands ghosting along your ribs, thumbs tempting to brush along your nipples through the material of your shirt, “But fuck are they still pretty.”

His knee pressed up further against the material, the thin material that was soaked to the point that he was risking having a stain left when he pulled it away. You whimpered at the feeling, desperate for any relief you hadn’t been able to get since you laid eyes on him for the first time. You couldn’t help but sink down on him, the feeling sending a shock through your core and another sound to fall from your blissfully kissed lips.

He took in the sight, not caring who saw. Not if it meant he had his claim on you, that everyone knew. That they all were aware of how fucking obsessed you were, with him, his cock, that you would be willing to get caught. With lidded eyes just as desperate for you as you were for him, he let his fingers trace down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he found the waistband of your underwear. Your chest tightened again in anticipation, as his fingers slid down further until they were pressed along the front of it, able to feel the wetness that had soaked all the way through.

His ego was huge at that point, almost feeling accomplished by his handy work. His thumb found the bundle of nerves with ease as if this hadn’t been his first time with you, but rather had memorized your body, knew just how exactly to get you to come undone. Pressing down, he bit down on his bottom lip, watching as your head lulled back, a desperate sound-emitting.

He couldn’t take it then, and neither could you. When he pulled away, you gasped in protest, ready to glare at him, but that inclination disappeared as he reached for the button of his jeans. You were practically drooling as it popped, followed by the sound of the zipper being yanked down. Your chest was rising and falling, so much anticipation forming along your skin in the form of sweat, the spot between your legs throbbing to the point of it almost being painful.

You were ready to beg. If he wasted any more time, you would. You didn’t care how desperate and defiling it felt then because if it were any other man, you wouldn’t, but for him, you would. You would over and over if it meant it would lead to this. Your breath hitched as he reached for the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down just enough to release his dick from the confines of the material.

Fuck, even his dick was perfect.

The sight of it had you nearly collapsing, completely acting like an idiot just at the sight. Who knew all it took was one cock to have you completely silent, lost for words. It had never happened, never thought it could, until him. It was the way it erected out, almost touching the material of his hoodie, red, already slick with precum. A world where he wanted you back seemed so implausible, and yet the sight of that alone could have had you cumming on the spot.

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping one of his hands around the base of it, he hissed slightly at the contact.

“Anakin, fuck just, please,” you whimpered further, and you hated how it sounded across your tongue, but that thought disappeared quickly as he moved closer.

With one hand pushing your underwear to the side, the other aided his dick in sliding in between your folds. It was only the tip, and yet at the feeling, you were a mess. A mess of chewing on your lower lip, just desperately wishing for this feeling to never end. If you could have this for the rest of your life every day, you would. The feeling of him over and over again would be a mantra you would strive for if it always felt like this.

Your walls were tight around him, and both being so impatient, he thrust forward, bottoming out quickly. A small noise fell from your lips at the feeling of his tip colliding deeply inside, your walls tightening, sucking him in perfectly.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice enough to make you clench again, stomach fluttering as his forehead softly met yours.

There was a second, a brief moment where neither of you moved. It was only heavy breathing accompanied by the sounds of the dryers, and you knew it was equally the nastiest but most perfect moment of your life. Then with his lips collapsing on yours once again, he began to move. Pulling out, he trusted back in, rocking his hips against yours. He swore under his breath, dick twitching though he had barely even started. With his lips claiming yours over and over, his hand trailed up along the side of your leg, taking hold of your knee to hike it up along his waist. At the new feeling, the stretch, paired with his dick still prodding, you moaned, the sound loud, louder than you anticipated it to be.

He laughed, the sound vibrating against your chest. It only got worse as his other hand slipped down in between your bodies locating your clit with ease through your underwear. Pulling out all the way, he shoved himself all the way back in, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could even derive. Your body arched into his, legs already like jelly as his thumb circled the bundle of nerves slowly, almost too slowly. The feeling of the soft fabric of the underwear only added more friction and you were spiraling at how quickly your pussy tightened around his length.

He grunted, a string of curse words slipping as he harshly pinned your body back against the dryer, the vibration of the machine only heightening it all further. You wouldn’t last long, you knew that, practically able to hear your heart in your ears, stomach clenching with that familiar knot. Your hands reached out to grip his shoulders, the material of his hoodie curling under your fingers as you held onto him so tightly as if you were trying to mold the two of your bodies into one.

Moving so quickly at that point, he was reaching that very spot inside you couldn’t do yourself, and it had your head spinning, chest rising and falling, as you desperately craved the high more than even drugs or alcohol.

“Say my name, baby,” he pleaded then, sounding so whiny as his blue eyes met yours. “Come on. Say it. Say it like you do when you’re laying in bed, hand going to fucking work in between your legs.”

Sweat gathered along his brow, while the tops of his cheeks were staining red. The sound of the pet name had you almost crying, leg tightening around his waist, as every part of your body seemed lit on fire.

“Anakin,” you moaned softly.

“No,” he demanded glaring down at you, “Not like that.”

He began to speed up his assault on your clit, and you could barely stand at that point, body almost leaning completely back on the dryer. That was enough to get what he wanted as his name began to spill from your mouth louder than it ever had before.

He swore again, his grunts filling your ears as his palm tightened around your hip. He was moving so quickly, sliding in and out, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds so loud in your ears. His thumb never faltered or stopped as he pulled all the way out and then back in, wanting you to take him in inch by inch. Before you had even realized it, your walls were tightening around him, your stomach clenched, eyes squeezed shut like you were chasing stars.

That feeling snapped, a lull, and you were a moaning mess as you held onto him, knowing you couldn’t stand on your own. Fingers digging deeply into his shoulders, body relaxing slightly while the orgasm washed over you, he didn’t dare stop. Anakin only pulled out to slam back into you, the flutter of your walls pulling him in over and over again. Chasing his high so desperately, it didn’t take long, until he was stilling completely, cumming inside of you.

You hadn’t let anyone else do that, but for him, it was a privilege. It was almost like your pussy was promised for him and him alone. His forehead fell down against yours, body relaxing into yours for a moment, only a few seconds, not long enough as your walls pulsed around him, now soft inside of you. He pulled out with ease, the loss of him and the cool air startling you to clamp your legs shut.

He stuffed himself back into his pants and looked down at you almost proudly, your fucked out gaze enough to have him wanting to take you back to his apartment and keep it going all night long, but you had places to be instead. Smirking, his eyes fell down to your lower half, and he couldn’t resist then. Fingers finding the sides of your underwear, they hooked around them before pulling them down your frame and to your ankles. Though confused, you followed, stepping out of them.

At the loss of them, you could feel the mixed wetness pooling out of you and down the inside of your legs, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Proud of his handiwork, Anakin reached behind him in his back pocket and took out the red lacy underwear. He held them out in his hands, stretching them as he demanded softly, “Step in.”

Listening, you stepped into the underwear, the clean red lacy underwear that had started all of this. Then tantalizing as if he wanted to torture you further, he pulled them up your legs slowly, agonizingly slow, and then up and over your butt until they sat comfortably along your hips, surely soaking in what the two of you had done.

Leaning forward, he left a lingering peck on your hip bone, and you sighed at the feeling. He slid your shorts back on next before standing and as he did, you could still feel the flush in your cheeks, reality catching up to you.

Having exchanged the red underwear for the black ones you wore, he shoved the dirty ones into his back pocket. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think straight, as your heart seemed to be beating out of your chest. With that smirk, that glint on his goddamn face, he reached forward, thumb pulling your bottom lip free before letting it snap back into place.

“I expect those panties of yours to remain where they are your whole date, got it? And tell Cole ‘hi’ for me, will you?”

There was one thing for sure, Anakin Skywalker despised you, or not anymore, at least because, after all, he got the one thing he had been dying of thirst for. He would make sure you never ignored him again, even if it was when you were doing your damn laundry.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #divider by cafekitsune #banner by cafekitsune

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bratbby333 · 6 months ago

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nsfw 𓆩⟡𓆪 mdni !!

dating toji feels like an 808 bass drum pounding in your chest...

...and his thick cock feels the exact same way as it ruins your pretty little pussy

cw: fem!reader, public sex, p in v, rough sex, pet names (doll, pretty girl)

he's over protective and territorial, his brooding jealousy and tight grip on your waist shoots pangs of arousal through you whenever the two of you go out. blood rushes to your eardrums, the rhythmic thump mimicking the pulse in your core.

he loves making it known that you’re his. he’s like your own personal bodyguard, scowling at anyone in the bar who dares to let their eyes linger too long on his pretty girl.

you attempt to ignore the gnawing ache in your core, but god does he make it hard. he doesn’t even have to do much either—he’s practically trained your body to respond to him regardless of what he’s doing.

he voices how pretty you are in a raspy whisper against your neck, nipping at the skin behind your ear. his large hand cups the small of your back, grips your hip tight— honestly whatever he can get his hands on. his fingers run up and down your thigh, digging his fingers into the squishy flesh, a bruising reminder of who you belong to. if you’re feeling real bold, sometimes you try and rile him up on purpose just to get a good, nasty fuck outta him.

and you always succeed.

your plan is set in motion when he gets up from the table to grab another round of drinks, shamelessly allowing some drunkard to flirt with you.

silly, silly girl. oh, you've done it now.

toji's a multifaceted lover; nice n slow sometimes, brutal and mean the next. a jack of all trades. you never really know what you're gonna get—which is why you're eyes are blown wide, your breath stuck in your throat while he has you pushed against the sink in the bathroom, fucking himself deep into you.

to be fair, this is the outcome you wanted, but you didn't expect it here. you know just the right way to push his buttons.

he wraps his fist around your throat, squeezing your sensitive skin so tightly, his hips meeting your ass with every unforgiving stroke.

he's just so thick, you'd think you'd be used to it by now, but it's like you're taking him for the first time all over again. but god, you just cannot get enough of the way he stretches you...the sweet burn of his girth coupled with the fat head of his cock that seems to brush into your g spot without failure...your gushy walls swallowing him whole, the squelching sounds ringing through the bathroom, bouncing off the linoleum walls.

he just knows his pretty girl too well. his hips snapping over and over and over, driving himself so fucking deep. his veins rubbing against the pillowy walls of your pussy. the pretty whines that can't help but escape your lips.

poor thing, you're trying so hard to keep quiet, but he's fucking you so hard and he's so deep, you can't help but cry out for him.

his fist wraps around your hair, pulling your head up. "look at you," he'd coo, his voice raspy, "so pretty while yer takin' my cock," his pace is unyielding, and his eyes bore into yours with every push.

your sinful ahh's and ooo's and oh fuck's are silenced by a firm hand over your mouth. "keep quiet, pretty girl. don't wanna get caught now do we?" your head shakes, your tummy churning with pleasure as he pounds into you.

maybe if he wasn't fucking you so hard you'd be able to keep it down. he's so smug, so teasing. his eyes dare you to make another sound, his cock taunting you to cry out once more. "you gonna cum?" you whine into his hand as sweet tears brim behind your eyes, your head bouncing up and down in confirmation.

"that's it, c'mon...be good f'me." his words send chills down your body as his fingers draw quick circles into your clit. the tightness in your core finally snaps as you choke on your moans, your orgasm clawing its way through you. his follows soon after, unable to resist the delicious clenching and spasming of your walls as you milk his load from his heavy balls. his thick seed coats your insides, a mixture of both your cum dribbling out around his cock and trickling down your thighs.

he quickly pulls out and slides your panties back up, a dark spot appearing immediately from the fluids that are spilling from you. your thighs tremble and knees buckle as you work to regain your breath. he chuckles at the sight, "yer okay, did s'good."

he stares at your reflection in the mirror as he tucks himself back into his jeans, a look of accomplishment and a cocky smirk pulling at his cheeks at the thought you walking around full of him, a sticky reminder of you really belong to.

"c'mon, doll, let's get back out there."

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taintedpearls · 8 months ago

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❀*ੈ˖°.𖥔 ݁ casual (part ii) — daily click

summary: you haven't spoken to ellie in a week, 43 missed calls and 125 texts from her, none of which you've answered, but ellie doesn't give up so easily.

cw: smut, mdni, intimate sex, the knee thing (e!receiving), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), switch!ellie and reader, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, fluffy, reader lives in an apartment, ellie is very apologetic. wc: 2.9k

a/n: this was meant to be like 1.6k words so idk how we got to 35 words away from 3k but... enjoy! part one is here

(1:02am) ellie

please let me explain

(1:06am) ellie

cmon please i promise it'll be worth your while

(1:07am) ellie

i have your bra among other things. let me know when you'd like me to drop them off. i'm sorry.

(1:09am) you

guess who texted again

(1:09am) olive

no way

r u gonna reply?

(1:10am) you

absolutely not

i made a fool of myself

(1:11am) olive

maybe and JUST MAYBE

reply to her and get ur closure + super sexy bra back

(1:12am) you

what the fuck olive

do you want me to die? genuine question

(1:12am) olive

LISTEN

it might help

plus she seems genuinely apologetic

why is she even apologising?

(1:14am) you

for being a dick and wanting a quick hookup?

(1:14am) olive

because she has feelings and she knows she fucked up?

(1:15am) you

😐 bye

(1:15am) olive

just reply! say sometime tmrw. it can be easy, a quick in nd out

okay?

(1:16am) you

i'll think about it

(2:03am) you

11:30, you get two minutes

(2:03am) ellie

thank you so much

(2:03am) ellie

i'll be there

nine hours later, and ellie was a mess.

you had given her permission to come over and return your bra – hell you had her jumping for fucking joy when she saw that message.

but now she had to actually talk to you, and what the hell was she supposed to say? that she was sorry? that she 'couldn't sort out her feelings?' all of which felt wrong (maybe they only felt wrong because she was staring at herself in the mirror while repeating them for three hours... who knows).

but ellie had found herself with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a plan.

a plan to win you back.

she was going to apologize, let you scream at her, and hopefully let her explain, all in the two minutes you had gratefully gifted her.

so, when she rang the doorbell to your apartment after hiking the six story stairs, she found herself staring at her old, beaten up converse. stars and hearts you had drawn all along the sides of the soles almost mocked her.

then you opened the door, and ellie couldn't look up.

useless apologies started spilling from her mouth, panicked words that meant nothing. a collection of "i'm sorry” s and a series of "please let me explain" came pouring out, that was until she grew the gall to look up at you and take you in.

her heart stopped when she did, so did her words.

you looked tired. clearly old yet comfortable clothes adorned your body, you had your arms over your stomach but they weren't crossed, you weren't mad, you could never be mad at ellie, no matter how badly you wanted to be especially in this moment.

words rushed through her head but never made it out her mouth, you were... exhausted. and she caused it, she caused all this pain you were going through.

“oh…” she softly whispered, her stance faltering at the sight of you, not because you looked like how you did but because she was so mad at herself.

you sigh, you had made no effort to adjust your appearance or put makeup on. you told yourself it was because you had no energy to, but in reality, you wanted to show ellie how you were hurting, that she had caused this, that something fun and sweet had gone sour and at your own expense.

“ellie, i know i look….” you remove your arms from your stomach and signal to yourself shamefully, tears almost springing from your sunken eyes at the regret you feel for not even trying to fix yourself up, “ but can i please just have my bra back?” you’ve changed your position once again so that you’re leaning up against the doorframe of your apartment, gray sleeves up by your knuckles.

“no! no no no not at all you look… pretty. really pretty.” she breathes out hurriedly, your cheeks heat up before you spot the bouquet, and that's what makes the tears spill. because why was she here? she had never described you as pretty before, only hot or sexy, so why is she here apologising and calling you pretty if she doesnt just want a quick fuck by validating you?

tears now evidently filled your eyes, ellie’s kind smile had now turned into one of worry and concern when she saw the tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes, moving forward to embrace you, but she hesitated. will it only make things worse for you? feeling her again?

“can- can i touch you?” she asks gently, nerves shaking at the chance of you pushing her away for good, telling her she can keep the bra and slamming the door shut in her face.

instead, you silently shake your head yes and grant her permission to embrace you, it was a stupid idea, really, because everything you felt, all the times she had touched you that you had so desperately been trying to shut out came flooding back and it took everything in you not to sob, the subtle stream of tears gliding down your cheeks was worse enough. you avoided her sorrowful eyes, you didn't want her to feel sorry for you, you just wanted her.

ellie lets go of you, she’s still standing at the doorway, converse planted firmly on your ‘welcome!’ doormat, she delicately reaches to hold your cheeks and force your wandering eyes to look into her own, staring for a second, memorizing your face just in case before looping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you inside, closing the door behind the two of you with her foot, not looking back once.

you can feel the flowers gently brush against your shoulder as she never put them in her other hand, but the feeling of them is oddly comforting. you're not sure why exactly it’s comforting, but you do however manage to notice they're your favorite.

ellie guides you over to a kitchen counter, sitting you up on it and standing right in between your open spread legs, placing the array of flowers opposite to the two of you. you bury your head in your hands, wanting to disappear from this moment and never return.

“hey…” she gently prys your hands away from your head, and you immediately look up to contain tears, trying your hardest nor to hit the cabinets. “i'm sorry for just welcoming myself in, i assumed you didn't want the neighbors to see you…” the auburn haired girl uneasily babbles, and the tears slow down. you sniffle, looking down at the girl who can’t seem to slow her fast paced talking, and you're not sure how to quiet her down other than placing a hand over her mouth.

instantly, the talking stops as she looks up at you confused, you sniffle once more and she grabs your hand again to remove it from her mouth

“you were talking a lot,” you whisper “its okay that you came in, ellie.” your voice is silky, addicting.

“i just-” she sighs, anxiously tapping the space outside your thighs and staring at her own hands “i don’t know how i can express just how sorry i am, i fucked up. Bad. and your hurting because of it” she spills, shes not even sure if it made sense as it left her mouth, but it’s honest.

“ellie… it was always more than just a casual thing to me,” you admit, voice getting shallower by the second “and i mean, i don’t know, i always just assumed if i kept saying i was fine with it you would realize that i was who you wanted, but now i know it isn’t true.” ellie’s face drops upon hearing your words, alarms blare in her head because of course it was never just casual to her as well, she’s not even sure why she suggested it in the first place or kept reinforcing it when she wanted everything but that.

“i know,” she starts off with, you look down sadly, this was confirmation she didn't want to see you anymore, that you getting attached had ruined everything and there was no saving whatever you two had. “but,” she continues, you look up at her again, confused. “It was never just casual to me as well, you know? i’m not even sure why i suggested it in the first place.” she lets out a brief chuckle at the last part in hopes of clearing some of the tension around you guys.

“but you-”

“i know i always reminded you, i think it was because i was scared? i was so… infatuated with you and i guess i didn’t want to hurt you. i thought it was the only way.” she remorsefully confesses, and you smile, roles reversed as you gracefully grab her face and kiss her. a kiss that says everything.

it's soft, gentle, show’s no urgency or panic. it’s natural, and ellie can feel you smiling into it, as is she.

gently, she moves away and starts kissing down your neck, you lock your hands into her auburn and let out a sigh of content.

“ellie…” you needily whisper.

“yeah, baby?” she removes her mouth from your neck, grabbing your thighs and looking into your eyes. “this okay?”

“more than okay,” you confirm, “do you wanna shower with me?” your request is simple, but it makes ellie’s heart explode with excitement as she lifts you off the counter and begins to carry you over to the very familiar shower, the short walk is full of quick kisses and giggles bouncing off the walls when you finally arrive and she nearly stumbles over her own feet.

you're quick to discard your own clothes, the anticipation building to feel ellie’s skin on your own, the girls anticipation matching yours as she hastily removes her own clothing. Flowers and bra forgotten in the kitchen when she pulls your body into the shower with her, capturing you into a needy kiss once more. she reaches behind you to turn the water on, not accounting for the fact it'll take a minute to warm up and allowing the freezing stream to harshly hit your back. you yelp, moving away quickly in shock, hearing ellie’s restrained snort from behind you. turning to face her, you slap her bicep playfully when the water begins to feel warmer

“ellie!” you playfully scold, “that wasn't funny!” you’re trying to be serious, key word: trying, but you cant help to let your own laugh slip past your mouth as you join her in the fun.

“‘m sorry!” she giggles, the laughter between you two dying down “i didn't think it would be that cold!”

“yeah, well, obviously!” you attempt to splash her with the little bit of remaining cold water on your hands, but you're not quick enough. she pins your hands above your head against the wall adjacent to the stream of water, the glass becoming foggy with steam from the nearly boiling water.

silence falls in between the two of you. no words are spoken as you move forwards wanting a kiss from the girl, but she moves back. deja vu spikes within you from that night at the bar, days before everything went down.

she closes her eyes, leaning closer and pressing her forehead up against yours. You repeat the action, you weren't sure what she was doing, but you trusted her.

“let’s take this slow, okay?” she utters softly, just loud enough so you could hear her over the sound of water pouring, you nod instantly. slow was good. slow meant effort.

with your agreement, she locks your lips into a kiss once again. it wasn't hasty or rough, it was soothing and steady, releasing your arms in order for her to move her own to rest on your hips, your own reaching towards her neck.

the kiss continuous for a couple minutes, only letting go for a couple seconds at a time to catch your breaths before falling back into each other peacefully, but you were getting wetter and wetter, desperate for more than just kitten kisses on your neck, and you could tell ellie was getting wet too with her movements becoming more and more desperate and rough.

discreetly, you slot your knee in between her legs while she's occupied with your neck. Almost immediately you can feel the grip she has on your hips become tighter, fingernails digging into the flesh as you slowly begin to move your knee, she groans, dropping her head into your shoulder, moving her hips to match the rhythm with your knee.

“faster, please” she whimpers in your neck, busying herself again by leaving wet open mouthed kisses on your neck once more. who were you to deny such a pretty girl's request? you speed up the movement of your knee, nudging it up every now and again, removing a hand from her neck to reach down and slowly rub her clit.

from the way she sucked harder on that spot just below your ear she knew you loved, you assumed the sensation was taken well, your own wetness starting to drip down your thighs, mixing with the water from the muffled noises she was making alone. eventually, the stimulation caught up to her, legs becoming shaky, speeding up your movements and circling her clit, forcefully removing her mouth from your neck so you could bring your head down and suck on her left nipple, and that was her tipping point.

ellie came undone on your leg with a strangled shout of your name, legs shaking and thighs hurting as you slowed down the circles on her now sensitive nub before eventually stopping, removing the knee slotted between her legs as well as your mouth from her tit.

“you okay?” you whisper, giving her a couple seconds to come down from her high, the water providing a warm comfort over the two of you.

“yeah,” she breathes, coming up to give you a kiss on the lips, again, and again, making a wet noise each time, only further fueling your need for her. “more than okay, thank you.”

you smile at her, happy that she was satisfied with your work. you clench your thighs together in hopes to relieve some of the tension that had built up in your core, a move that did not go unnoticed by the dripping girl in front of you.

“but now i think i need to take care of you, hm? would you like that?” you quickly nod your head yes, anxious to feel her touch on you once more.

she doesn't wait to get to work on your body, lips going down to suck one of your boobs while her hand moves to roll the sensitive bud in between her fingers, almost instantly eliciting a moan from you.

quietly, she moves her hand that was previously rolling your nipple down your wet body to your core. you open your legs, she keeps her mouth on your boob, but teasing your folds as she ran her fingers through them and pinching your clit ever so slightly, causing you to squel.

“ellie.. please…” you almost beg, desperate to feel her skilled fingers inside you already.

she presses her palm flat against your clit, ignoring your begs but making you jerk back into the ceramic wall as a small whimper falls from your mouth, ellie smirks knowing just how much of an effect she had on you. she wasn't leaving you ever again.

lazily, she slips her middle finger into your hole, removing her mouth from your tit. the shower and your own slick providing enough lube that she didn't even have to prod at it.

“jesus babe… you're so tight” you clench around her finger at these words, and she mindlessly adds a second one. your hands move from her neck to the steaming glass beside you, indenting your handprint through the fog as you lose control over your own body's movements.

gradually, she begins pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lewd and shameless moans leaving your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. she moves her thumb to your clit, pushing into it and causing as much pressure as possible, and it's not long before you cum with a yell of her name, babbling nonsense as she guides you through it. head in her neck as is hers in yours.

“‘m so sorry” ellie continuously repeats as her fingers still work at a relentless pace inside you “i'm so so sorry, ill never do that to you again.” she moves up and bites your earlobe, continuing to pilot you through your orgasm before halting her movements completely and removing herself from your body.

you lean back against the wall, eyes closed in content as you feel the droplets of water hit your skin, your water bill is gonna be so fucking high this month, all ellie does it look at you. admiring you in this post fucked out state. you reach your hand out, a silent request for her to take it and she does, right after turning off the stream for you.

“that was… amazing.” you breathe out happily, she beams at the peaceful look on your face as you peel your eyes open, ellie's smile making you crack your own.

“i'm glad,” she kisses you once more, the two of you smiling into it.

“we’re okay?” she asks

“we’re okay.” you confirm, and ellie has never been happier

“how about we continue this in the bedroom?” ellie suggests, and you grab her instantly to lead her out.

people who asked to be tagged: @a-little-bit-of-everybody ! @lmaoo-spiderman @macaroni676 @p4ison1vy @fatbootymuncher @elliessweetheart

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bardic-inspo · 7 months ago

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Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended.

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude.

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs.

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to?

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen?

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too.

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient.

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading.

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night.

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast.

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own.

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles.

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her.

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue.

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips.

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again.

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her.

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes.

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry.

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard.

Just a dream, then. For now, at least.

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.”

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time.

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces.

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion breeding #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x f!tav #f!tav x astarion #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #divider credit: firefly-graphics #end banner credit: cafekitsune

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gditrisha · 1 year ago

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KING OF PEACE | Uki Violeta x Fulgur Ovid

PAIRINGS: PsyBorg, Uki Violeta x Fulgur Ovid TAGS & WARNINGS: Song Lyric Fic, Angst, Implied/Reference Character Death, Blood, Depictions of Stabbing, Blood, and Violence CHARACTERS: Uki Violeta, Fulgur Ovid, Alban Knox, Sonny Brisko, and Yugo Asuma (Graduated 2023) A/Ns: Listen to "Queen of Peace" by Florence + The Machine. This one-shot is part of FLOW: an anthology of PsyBorg fanfics inspired by Florence + the Machine songs.

“Is this what you want cuz you’re drIVING ME AWAY!!!!”

It was the first time Uki had ever raised his voice. Uki’s voice cracked like a crow choking on worms as he lay on the run-down warehouses’ floor writhing in pain.

Fulgur’s eyes glowed with red fury as a virus poisoned his system. The clang of metal and the buzz of sparking wires clashed in every punch he had blown toward his opponents. That’s how this anomaly viewed Uki, Yugo, Alban, and Sonny.

Each tried to reason with him by bringing up memories as if opening files on a computer folder but the cyborg couldn't recognize the voices of his comrades.

He couldn’t recognize Uki’s voice. The same voice that had greeted him ‘good morning’, ‘good night’, the voice that had told him ‘mwah’ and 'I love you’ fell on deaf ears.

He couldn’t recognize the voice of the person he had promised not to hurt. The virus’ only directive was to damage and destroy.

“We can’t restrain him without a plan,” Sonny spat out blood.

“Gotta make it quick,” Alban dodges a kick.

“Uki, what do we do?” Yugo ran to Uki's side, helping him back on his feet.

Uki had foreseen this and had done everything in his power to avoid it.

He 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 exactly what to do.

"I...need to…I need to get to his blind spot. I need to get close to him," Uki coughed trying to gasp even an ounce of air through his broken ribs.

"Ok! I’ll do that!" Yugo ran to the car that had been parked right outside where the ruckus was taking place. With a flip of his laptop and simultaneous tuning of buttons and knobs, Yugo screams.

"SONNY! ALBAN! COVER YOUR EARS! NOW!" A high pitched note blasts through the speakers and awakes the night from its slumber.

Fulgur got to his knees and screamed in agony as the frequency reverberated like a banshee's scream through his body. Uki runs to Fulgur with a syringe-like vial in hand but Fulgur remains vigilant. He fights the frequency and trips Uki in the process.

“LOUDER, YUGOOOO!” Alban exclaims to which Yugo plugs an amplifier and increases the volume.

Uki restrains Fulgur beneath his light weight and plunges the vial to his sternum. The redness in Fulgur’s eyes dissipates and the softness in his voice resurfaces from the disturbing one-worders he spoke.

“I…love…you,” Fulgur whispers to Uki.

The remaining members of Noctyx approached the two. “Finally, a cure! Nice going, Uki! He’ll be healed in no time!” Alban dusted the grime from his gloves and laughed in relief as he reached his hand out for a high five. He slowly put it down.

“Hey, why is everyone quiet? We did it right? We healed him?” Yugo knelt down to inspect Fulgur’s body.

“Uki..” Sonny now understood all those instances Uki had approached him for intel and information.

Everything made sense as tears streamed from Uki’s eyes to Fulgur’s cheeks.

Like a long stream I'll bear all this echoing Oh, what is it worth? All that's left is hurt

A/Ns: Once you've reached the end notes, listen to "St. Jude" by Florence + The Machine. Thank you so much for reading "King of Peace"! Posting the next installation soon.

STORY ii | WRITING MASTERLIST | FLOW SERIES MASTERLIST

#dividers and banners: @cafekitsune #trisha's content #trisha writes #fanfic #fanfics #niji #NIJISANJI #NIJISANJI EN #nijisanjifanfic

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whispers-of-lilith · 4 months ago

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I Don't Look That Old

Law: I don't look that old, I'm just tired.

You: Yeah, captain! You only look 26!

Law: *smug* See—

You: 26... minutes from dying.

Law: *scowls* Fuck you.

You: Maybe after you nap.

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woolysium · 2 months ago

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Game Night

﹒♡﹒Pairing: bf!Wooyoung (non-idol) x reader

﹒♡﹒Summary: Just another chill gaming night takes a wild turn when Wooyoung’s playful teasing gets a bit too intense, can you even focus on the game now?

﹒♡﹒Word count: 1.3k

﹒♡﹒Genre: smut (MDNI)

﹒♡﹒Warning: fingering, reader was on call with friends, a lot of teasing, Wooyoung is a tease.

﹒♡﹒Author's note: i totally don't enjoy being teased

It was just another Sunday night in your cozy little apartment, the low hum of the game console filling the room. You’d set everything up for a chill night of gaming with your friends, nothing fancy, just the usual routine. Honestly, these nights were your favorite—just you, a couple of friends on the headset, and Wooyoung nearby, always making everything feel better.

He was sprawled out on the couch behind you, legs draped lazily over yours as he pulled you closer into his arms. His chin rested on your shoulder, arms looped around your waist, fingers tracing light patterns on your sides. It was casual, comfortable, and exactly what you needed after a long week.

You were locked in on the game, fingers flying over the controller, trying to keep your character alive as the battle got more intense. You could hear your friends in your headset, shouting orders, and you did your best to keep up. The game was at that point where one wrong move could send everything crashing down, and the adrenaline kept you on edge.

“Cover me, Y/N!” one of your friends yelled through the mic. You nodded, too focused to reply properly, trying to time your next attack. You felt Wooyoung shift behind you, touching you deliberately.

It started off playful, his hands resting on your hips, squeezing a little like he always did when he was in a teasing mood. You figured he was just being his usual self, trying to get your attention while you were deep in the game. But then, his fingers dipped below the waistband of your shorts, and you froze for a second.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand slipped further down into your underwear, brushing against your skin in a way that made your body react instantly. You tried to ignore it, focus on the game, but it was getting harder with every passing second.

“I’m on it!” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. But Wooyoung’s fingers were doing everything to distract you. He moved slowly, testing, teasing. You clenched your jaw, trying to push the feeling aside, but he wasn’t making it easy.

His fingers slipped inside, making you let out a soft gasp. You quickly pressed your lips together, praying no one had heard that. The game was still going, and your friends had no clue what was happening. Meanwhile, Wooyoung had that familiar mischievous look in his eyes, though you didn’t need to see his face to know. You could just feel it.

“You’re running low on stamina,” he whispered, his voice way too smug for the situation. His thumb brushed against you, and you had to bite your lip to keep quiet. Your fingers felt clumsy on the controller, and you struggled to keep your character from dying.

You could feel his breath against your neck, his chest pressed against your back. And then, just as you were about to pull off a critical move in the game, Wooyoung curled his fingers just right, making your whole body jerk.

Your character stumbled on screen. You could hear your friends yelling something, but it was all a blur. You barely registered it, too caught up in the feeling of Wooyoung’s fingers inside you, moving in that slow, torturous rhythm.

“Y/N, you gotta use your ult!” one of your friends shouted through the mic, but your brain was barely processing the words. Wooyoung’s thumb moved again, and you almost dropped the controller right then.

He let out a low laugh, his chest vibrating against your back. “You’re not focused, babe,” he teased, shifting beneath you so you could feel the hardness in his lap. He was enjoying this way too much.

You fumbled with the controls, your character stumbling through the game, but your focus was slipping fast. Every time you thought you might get back on track, he’d curl his fingers just right, making your hips jerked, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation, but Wooyoung had you locked in place, his arms wrapped tightly around you. Just as you lined up for a final hit, your character went down, the screen flashing red as your health bar drained. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I died like that!” you muttered, embarrassment bubbling up in your chest.

“You good, Y/N? You sound a bit... off tonight,” one of your friends asked, and you could’ve died on the spot. You tried to swallow down another gasp as Wooyoung’s thumb circled your clit, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. He could feel the way your breath caught, how your thighs pressed together in his lap, and he couldn't resist grinding his hips against you just to see you squirm.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear. “Your friend is asking,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “You can’t even answer hmm?”

You turned your head to glare at him, but the effect was kinda lost when another wave of pleasure hit you, and you had to bite back a moan. He grinned, this brat knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Y/N?” your friend called again, oblivious to the chaos happening on your end. Wooyoung reached for the headset, answering for you. “She’s fine! The AC’s out, so it’s just a little too warm in here. Y/N's not great with the heat, you know?”

“You might need a break, Y/N,” he added, letting your friends continue their game chat. “It’s really hot, isn’t it?”

A blush spread across your face as your friends mumbled some understanding replies, but you couldn’t miss the smirk on Wooyoung’s lips. You knew you couldn’t keep playing like this. His touch was too distracting, and the heat of his breath on your neck made it impossible to concentrate. With a shaky exhale, you managed to find your voice.

“Yeah, I think... I think I might take a break,” you stammered, your voice barely steady. “Sorry, guys. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Aw, alright, Y/N. Feel better!” one of your friends replied cheerily, and after a few goodbyes, you quickly logged off, setting the controller aside. As soon as you slipped off your headset, Wooyoung’s teasing touch became more insistent, a mischievous grin still playing on his lips.

You turned in his lap, glaring at him half-heartedly, your cheeks flushed. “You’re such a fucking menace, you know that?” you muttered, but he only chuckled, his hands slipping back to your waist as he pulled you closer.

He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’re so cute when you’re trying to focus.”

“Just let me play in peace!” you gasped, trying to keep your voice steady, but he wasn’t letting up. Instead, his fingers moved faster, each touch making it harder to think of anything else.

You squirmed in his lap, torn between trying to escape his relentless teasing and pressing closer for more. And just when you thought you might lose it, Wooyoung slowed down, pulling his fingers out, leaving you feeling uncomfortably empty. He turned you around to straddle him, your flushed face inches from his, and despite the embarrassment, you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, craving more of his touch.

“Focus on me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. His fingers moved faster now, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your hips rocked against his hand, desperate for release, and Wooyoung just smirked, clearly loving how wrecked you were.

It didn’t take long after that. With one final thrust of his fingers, you felt everything snap, pleasure crashing through you like a wave. You clung to him, burying your face in his neck as your body trembled, riding out the high.

When it was over, you collapsed against him, breathing hard, your mind still spinning. Wooyoung pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you close.

“Good game,” he murmured with a grin. “But next time? Try to focus on me first, yeah?”

You laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Yeah, next game night was definitely gonna be interesting.

by @woolysium

#wxx nsfw: ❄️#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #atz x reader #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung #mdni banner by @/cafekitsune #divider by @/enchanthings

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90sbee · 1 year ago

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Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #writer bee #mine #gn!reader #mdni divider by #@/cafekitsune #divider and support banner by #@/saradika

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cosycafune · 7 months ago

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JJK MASTERLIST: NSFW.

𖥔T.F࣪ ꗃ⋆࣪

i) nightly aftercare; toji fushiguro.

ii)the collapse of intimacy; toji fushiguro.

iii) pretty princess; toji fushiguro.

vi) can’t you handle me, baby? toji fushiguro.

v) let me breed you princess!

𖥔C.K ࣪ ꗃ⋆࣪:

i) the first, whispering snow; choso kamo.

ii) choso’s guilty pleasure; choso kamo.

iii) panty stealer.

𖥔S.G ࣪ ꗃ⋆࣪:

i) I want a baby; satoru gojo.

ii) rich boy’s playhouse; satoru gojo.

iii) don’t get caught, love; satoru gojo.

iv) I’ll get you pregnant! satoru gojo.

v) late night booty calls.

vi) jealousy’ll get you pregnant.

vii) stay still, baby!

viii) pussy’s confession

K.N

i) mating press; kento nanami.

ii) suck until you can’t anymore.

R.S

i) disobedient concubine

ii) obedience

iii) engraved virgin.

JJK MEN:

scream until he breaks you

art by sakimenz on patreon. updated: 14th August, 2024.

#cosycafune masterlist #cosycafune #cosycafune series #small banner by anitalenia #divider by cafekitsune

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nakahras · 5 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི slow down • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • every week you find yourself in one of chuuya’s club, one reminiscent of a speakeasy. as his subordinate, you know of each and every one of his establishments. what you never expected was for him to show up to one of your performances. lucky for you he shows up to reward you handsomely for a successful show.

warnings • (buckle up this is gonna be a long one) fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, dubcon, intoxication (both parties), use of the pet names “doll” and “baby”, ņsfw, hair pulling, chuuya is a tease, power imbalance, grinding, very slight exhibitionism, fingering, finger sucking, oral (f -> m), unprotected sex, dacryphilia, wall sex, creampie, cockwarming, i cannot be blamed for what i wrote that wasn’t me

wc • 9.4k

a/n • this has been sitting in my drafts for so long waiting for me to find the will to finish the smut (⌒_⌒;)

the atmosphere is warm and inviting. a mixture of expensive perfumes, liquors and smoke builds an aroma that, although slightly suffocating, is also surprisingly delightful. it’s busy, just like every friday night, thanks to the main act. at least, that’s what chuuya’s been told.

earlier in the week, his subordinates noticed that numbers for this club in particular, have gone up significantly. it’s now chuuya’s most popular establishment. friday nights, especially, are giving him high revenue. he isn’t complaining by any means, he just wants to know why so maybe he can bring that aspect of this business into his others — or at the very least thank whoever it is that’s responsible for these numbers.

he’s come to realize that his sales have spiked strictly within the 9-10pm time frame—the peak of the friday night show. he allows performers, mainly singers, to take the stage at night. it’s somewhat of an experiment on chuuya’s end. speakeasies are far and few between; he wants to know if that’s due to the lack of interest or just the lack of organization. he’s happy to see that there’s still interest.

chuuya wants to see it for himself. that’s what led him here, at his own club in the vip section. he’s sat forward, leaning on the table, his hands folded in front of his face as he anticipates the curtains parting to reveal the subordinate rumored to have captivated this entire club and its patrons. the ginger wasn’t given much to go by, but he knows it’s someone that works under him, it’s supposedly how they managed to get the most coveted slot.

it’s clear, however, that their talent is what allowed them to keep the slot.

you’re nervous. it’s the first time since your very first performance on this stage that your palms are sweating underneath the leather short gloves you wear. you were told earlier this evening that you had a special guest tonight. when the stage manager told you “no pressure” your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the knife you kept holstered and hold it up to his throat. those two words always had the opposite effect and something told you the bastard knew that.

you take in a shuddered breath as you look at the backstage clock. it’s nearly time. those curtains are about to open and reveal you to whoever it is that’s so important on the other side of the heavy red velvet cloth. you shake your arms and take a few calming breaths as the lights dim further than they already are.

it’s showtime.

you make the decision to not look. you train your eyes to the ground as the curtain rises from the floor, slowly revealing you in your fitted black floor length dress. the thigh slit that reaches your hip leaves you feeling far more vulnerable and exposed than you’d like to admit. as you look everywhere but at the vip section you realize you may be revealing far too much skin with an important guest in the audience. the top half of this dress wasn’t any better either. the short sleeves felt as though they were simply a decoration — hanging off your shoulders exposing not only just your shoulders, but your collar bones and cleavage as well.

you’re hyper aware of your appearance and now so is chuuya. his breath hitches when the curtain reveals you. you looked devastatingly beautiful, the kind that could ruin his life and he would thank you for it. how did he not know it was you? you’d always piqued chuuya’s interest. he paid closer attention to you than his other subordinates and he had noticed you were always busy on friday nights, but he never would have imagined in a million years that this would be the reason. chuuya didn’t even know you could sing but here you were, singing like a siren and ensnaring the executive in your trap. he was absolutely mesmerized, hanging on to every word you sang.

the executive desperately wants you to look at him but he quickly notices you’re adamantly avoiding the vip section — his section. do you know he’s here? does he make you nervous? the thought of making you nervous stirs something inside of him. something he thought he had suppressed a long time ago because it’s entirely inappropriate of him. chuuya desires you, deeply, desperately, dangerously. watching you on that stage, in that dress has him clenching his jaw. his self control is waning quickly.

you get through the first song with a surprising amount of ease. your rigid muscles relax as you melt into the melody. your nerve endings igniting with the reverberations of the instruments behind you. you feel electric, everything buzzing as you make it to the last song.

luckily, for you, it’s only supposed to be a short set tonight, 3 songs total. so, when you reach the end of the final song you finally allow yourself a glance. your eyes widen and lips part in utter shock to find the very bicolored eyes that have been haunting your thoughts since you first laid your sights on them. as the curtain drops you reel at the fact that the important guest was none other than the club owner himself, your superior in the port mafia, and executive. chuuya nakahara. your vision tunnels and ears ring as you pretend to listen to whatever praises are being handed over by the crew. you manage to accept them with grace easily then dismiss yourself to your dressing room.

you don’t think much time has passed since the curtain dropped, but you’re proven wrong when you walk through the threshold of the dressing room and the door is promptly shut, revealing your superior. your posture turns rigid and chuuya watches you intently as you swallow thickly. you think the look in his eye is something akin to a predator gazing upon its prey. chuuya doesn’t miss your change in demeanor and the way your throat bobs anxiously. it’s all he needs to know that his earlier suspicions were right. he does make you nervous.

you bow your head instinctively and offer him a respectful greeting, just like you’d normally do while at work. “i was told someone important was coming to watch my show tonight but i wasn’t aware it’d be you, thank you for coming, nakahara-sama.”

“chuuya. no need to be so formal here…” although chuuya would be lying if said you referring to him in such a way didn’t do something to him.

here you are, the most gorgeous woman he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his gaze upon and you’re being the respectful one. as much as chuuya wants to boast about you clearly admiring him as a superior, that’s not what he’s here for. now that he knows you’re the one that has brought his club popularity, he needed to reward you properly.

”you watch him carefully, making sure he means what he said — it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s being sincere. “right. then… thank you for coming, chuuya.”

oh. his name has never sounded so sweet. but when it falls from your lips like honey, he can’t help but to crave more.

your voice is saccharine, a true gift from the angels. in fact, your superior isn’t quite convince you aren’t an angel after hearing that set. you truly must be otherworldly. it’s the only explanation.

“have to say, didn’t even know you could sing, let alone sing like that.” you watch as the ginger crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the door. chuuya adjusts his hat and peers down at you through his surprisingly long lashes.

you’ve never been a skittish person, but chuuya nakahara makes you nervous as hell. “i wasn’t keeping it a secret. you just never asked.”

“‘spose i should apologize for that then, huh? i just assumed i always made it obvious that i paid special attention to you. but i guess in this situation, that still wasn’t enough. how do you suggest i make up for not asking, doll?” his bicolored eyes scan your face, an easy smile stretching his lips.

you blink once, twice, three times trying to comprehend what he’s asking you. his smooth honey-like voice entrancing you and making your mind dizzy at the utterance of the term of endearment. your mind is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow. you’re buffering in real-time. you try to snap yourself out of your stupor but it’s hard when the most gorgeous man is standing in front of you, gaze lidded and hungry and directed towards you.

you swallow thickly again and manage to rasp out, “buy me a drink?”

the ginger cracks a smile and before he can even say anything, there’s a rap at the door. chuuya pushes himself off the wooden panel and swivels around. he only cracks open the door enough for him to peek his head out and speak with someone in a hushed tone. you can’t see anything and you think twice about trying to peer over the executive’s shoulder. chuuya toes the door shut and turns around presenting you with a wide grin.

“why don’t we move this conversation back to my section in the club? i have a surprise waiting for you there.” chuuya steps closer to and casually reaches out and holds the middle of your bare back to guide you.

you don’t have time to form a single coherent thought to even think about declining. you’re being gently pushed towards the dressing room door that chuuya manages to hold open. his hand doesn’t leave your back for a second as you both walk to his semi secluded section. your head is dizzy again. the feeling of the smooth leather from his gloved hand sends a shiver through your spine that you swear he notices, if the smile he’s wearing has anything to show for it.

when you get close enough, you notice two empty glass flutes and the most expensive bottle of champagne this club carries sit atop the table of chuuya’s booth. it’s probably the most expensive bottle of alcohol you’ve ever laid your eyes on. there was no way that was the bottle you thought it was. when you finally get closer you quickly read the label. sure enough you were right, a bottle of dom perignon plenitude 2, brut champagne 2003. your eyes nearly bug out of your head and your mouth moves before you can even second guess your words.

“this is not what i meant, chuuya, this… i can’t accept this.” you stare at the bottle of champagne carefully, it costs far more than what you make in a night singing here.

chuuya’s smile is warm and reassuring as he sort of chuckles through his nose. “don’t worry, doll, you deserve this. it’s no sweat, just enjoy it, okay?” his hand slides up to between your shoulder blades and down again just above the swell of your ass then he repeats that action a few times, clearly trying to sooth your anxious mind.

you involuntarily relax and eventually concede. “fine, i suppose if you’re offering… who am i to refuse at least a glass?”

the grin that you receive from the executive is nothing short of triumphant. the way his nose scrunches a tad bit and the way the dimple on his left cheek becomes more prominent makes him look much younger and full of energy than his usual demeanor does. his smile is contagious, you can’t help but to offer him one of the same value. it takes his breath away.

you take chuuya’s breath away.

the ginger sits in his thoughts and admiration just a little too long. you notice his sudden daze and tilt your head in confusion. “you still here with me? why don’t you do the honors. it’s embarrassing to admit, but i’ve never been very good at opening champagne bottles.”

chuuya lets out a chuckle and reaches for the bottle. you watch in wonderment as he pops it open with ease. you figured chuuya would want the first pour but after filling the first glass he hands it straight over to you. you’re not sure if it’s true but you’ve heard something about the first pour after opening a bottle of wine was the best. you wonder if the same applies to champagne.

at some point during your walk over to the booth, chuuya had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. he must’ve gotten hot, you vaguely rationalize. you try, and fail miserably, to not ogle at the extra bit of skin and muscle the executive is displaying. maybe he had the right idea. it was getting hot in here.

if chuuya notices he doesn’t say anything.

he does notice, it’s hard for him not to. his lips curl slightly at the way your eyes not so subtly trail along his arms. you probably would have caught it if you weren’t so preoccupied. he thinks about making a remark but doesn’t want to embarrass you. so, instead, chuuya clears his throat and holds out his drink to make a short toast.

you tilt your head with a look of curiosity, waiting for him to make his toast.

chuuya gets the memo and clears his throat almost as if he was nervous. “to your successful set tonight and to making this my most successful club.”

“this is your most successful club?!” you can’t help the obviously baffled guffaw that leaves your throat.

you knew this was a popular club. the public loves the idea of a speakeasy. an obvious difference in vibes from a modern day club — it was a welcomed change. after all, that’s what drew you to it in the first place too.

to think that this club was so bustling because of you, however, was an entirely different thing. there is no way that this establishment is so lucrative based solely on your performances alone. you can’t possibly take full credit for it. somebody had to have come up with the idea of open mic nights. whoever that was, should be toasted to. not you.

chuuya chortles, clearly finding the shock in both your face and expression amusing. “yes, doll. friday nights specifically. they’re my best nights.”

oh.

yeah, you couldn’t exactly delude yourself into thinking the club's success isn’t because of you anymore. these were clearly your nights. the idea is far too much for you to wrap your head around. you never would have imagined that people enjoy your voice in general. so, to know they not only enjoy it, but they seek it out every week makes your head spin.

you need more champagne.

you finish off the last few sips you have left in your flute then reach for the very expensive bottle sitting next to chuuya. you’re not fast enough, though. chuuya’s nimble fingers wrap around the neck of the dom perignon to pick up the champagne. you think he’s trying to play keep away with you but you’re proven wrong when he tops you off — still with an amused lopsided grin gracing his features.

you take generous and consecutive sips from your newly poured glass, downing almost all of it in one go. your eyes water and throat stings from the influx of bubbles filtering through your esophagus. the expression on your face scrunches up into a grimace, the sting from the champagne surprising you. you panic as you feel an air bubble traveling back up. you try your best to suppress the burp threatening to release from your throat. you're successful but in place of a burp you let out a squealed hiccup. it’s soft enough to where you think you may have gotten away with it but the look on chuuya’s face says otherwise.

the executive is clearly amused, displaying another wide smile. “thought you said you were only going to have one glass? you’re gonna end up too tipsy before i can even ask you to dance with me.”

you look at him in a daze. your face heats up and you come to the conclusion that it’s equal parts embarrassment and the alcohols affect. your whole body ignites, buzzing as the alcohol runs its course and makes your inhibitions loosen.

this is dangerous.

who knew all it took was two glasses of expensive champagne to have your head spinning and mind wandering to places about chuuya it shouldn’t. he is your boss, your higher up, your superior. it’s embarrassing, really, thinking the ginger would, in any way, reciprocate your interest. it had to be a ridiculous notion, right?

wait.

rewind.

he said dance with you. he wanted to dance with you? god, you now desperately wish you hadn’t drunk so much already. the thought alone of dancing with chuuya made your legs wobbly, add the alcohol in the mix and your leg muscles were turning to jelly.

“dance? you want to dance… with me?” your mind clearly wasn’t wrapping around the concept.

chuuya gives you a curious look. “what? don’t think i can dance?”

you weren’t expecting his playful tone and that devilish smile that’s gracing his lips. as a matter of fact, this chuuya — the one here tonight — is a far cry from his usual self. although you suppose you’ve never seen the executive in a setting where he can be more relaxed. the port mafia doesn’t exactly allow chuuya much room to be a laxed 20-something year old. he’s the strongest ability user, after all. he’s also the port mafia’s most talented fighter, with and without his ability. he’s a forced to be reckoned with and it radiates off of him when he’s wearing his executive mask. a scowl is almost permanently etched onto his face. you actually used to think it was his resting face.

the aura he radiates is one of intimidation. stained red from the blood of his victims and scorching like a raging fire. you hate to admit it but you used to avoid chuuya. he terrified you. but the more you were around him and the more you saw of him that changed.

of course, every interaction you’ve had with him thus far has been strictly professional, naturally. yet, you won’t lie, there was more than one occasion where you’ve let your mind wander to what he’s like outside of his duties. you got glimpses of it in the way he interacts with those he’s truly close with. you think that chuuya it beautiful. a stark difference from the horrifying monster the lower ranks paint him out to be.

but even when he’s with the people he trusts the most, he’s still at work. this is different. so, you decide this chuuya, here tonight, is refreshing.

you’re not sure if the decision is solely based on your current inebriated state or not, but right now you could care less. you finally let yourself relax, nerves rolling off your body and evaporating. it’s a visible change that chuuya makes sure to take note of as you return his current energy.

“chuuya-san, that’s quite the assumption, don’t you think? what makes you think that i spend any time thinking about whether you can dance or not?”

your lashes flutter almost flirtatiously (you blame it on the alcohol) as you tease him. you know well that he hates being referred to in such a formal manner — even by his subordinates. chuuya’s quick, though, and immediately catches on to your teasing. his bicolored eyes almost twinkle with amusement and he offers you a hand. the action is so smooth you don’t even question it, in fact, you don’t even react at first.

“first you question my dancing skills and now you refuse to dance with me? damn, doll, you’re breakin’ my heart.” chuuya snorts at the way your face twists in horror as you realize what’s going on.

“i- no! i’m not- that’s not- !” you stumble over yourself, words spilling from you faster than what your mind can keep up with. you take a breath and grab the ginger’s hand, quite aggressively, and pull him onto the dance floor.

you’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of confidence comes from, maybe yet another thing to blame on the alcohol, but you roll with it. despite the look and feel of the club, it was still past midnight on the weekend. the speakeasy atmosphere has been replaced with a dj and modern music filtering through every conceivable speaker in this establishment.

everything is vibrating, it makes it hard to discern whether your fingers are steady or not. god, you hope your fingers are steady as you guide chuuya’s hands to your hips — you also hope you’re not being too forward. the thought is distant and nagging, much like if someone was lightly hammering a dull nail to the back of your head. you let yourself slip into the anxiety spreading in your chest and for a split second, you think your fears are founded, because the gravity manipulator’s fingers ghost your hips, distinctly not finding purchase on your hips.

the thought of him being nervous too isn’t plausible in your mind, so you don’t even entertain it.

just as you’re about to draw back and pull away, mortified by your own boldness, your breath catches. in fact it almost halts altogether because chuuya’s pulling you closer to him. with your back flush to his chest, you can feel the heat of his body emanating from him. distantly, you wonder if he just naturally runs hot or if it’s just the club, the people all around you, the buzz of the alcohol.

the heat is oddly calming, a reminder of his presence safeguarding your largest vulnerability. maybe that’s the reason he chose this position in the first place, the act of dancing was already exposing enough, you didn’t need to worry about your back being watched when chuuya is sheltering you so well.

chuuya’s wandering hand splaying across your lower stomach and pushing down says otherwise, though. a pleasant chill courses through you, despite the humid air.

you need to steady yourself, his presence is entirely overwhelming, consuming you almost completely.

all you can do, all you want to do, is breathe him in.

you need to ground yourself before you do something stupid. you reach up behind yourself and clasp your hand around the back of chuuya’s neck, fingers scraping against his skin lightly as you card your fingers through his hair. the tips of his own fingers on your lower abdomen bite into the fabric of your dress. his other hand grips your hip and guides you, moving you against him — with him.

it’s easy, moving your body in tandem with his. matching his movements was easy and you have to admit to yourself that he’s a really good dancer. chuuya has total control over his body and knows exactly how to move it. you don’t know why you’re so surprised, his extensive training in the martial arts and flexibility have to make for an excellent dancer and it shows.

you’re so caught up in the feeling of him, the heat of him, against you that your source of intoxication shifts from the alcohol to him. you’re so drunk off the smell of him, off the closeness of him, off the way you can feel every hard muscle of his chest and abdomen against your back. your senses are so clogged up with him that nothing else is getting through.

it doesn’t help that your body is moving on it’s own.

or is it?

no. it’s chuuya, he’s guiding your body. your ass is firmly pressed against him, grinding into him and you hadn’t even noticed in your stupor.

this is so inappropriate. he’s your higher up for god’s sake. this is wrong, right? but then again…the executive is the one that’s leading your actions, he’s clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. no harm in indulging yourself in him if he’s helping himself to you, right?

in the same moment, chuuya is dipping his head down, lips grazing and breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “you still doubtin’ me?”

you take in another shuddered breath. this man is killing you. he’s doing this on purpose, he has to be. you try to put the blame solely on his shoulders — you want this to be all him so badly. but you know that’s simply delusional because you’ve been drinking and you know very well how alcohol makes you act up.

chuuya teases you further by dropping his head down to your shoulder and nestling his face in your neck. you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin. electrifying every nerve ending in your body, making your whole being feel like it’s buzzing. you don’t miss the way his lips stretch into a satisfied smirk. it’s then that you realize — he’s doing all this on purpose. the executive is toying with you, creating a game out of making you squirm and seeing how long your self control can last.

how cruel. he knows how stubborn you can be, showing that side of yourself in almost every mission you two have worked together. but he’s never had experience with you intoxicated (luckily for you). so, chuuya also has no idea just how far you throw your inhibitions out the window when alcohol is involved.

the ginger is taken by surprise when a small noise akin to a whimper is released at the back of your throat. if he wasn’t so close to you, he would have missed the noise completely, but he caught it loud and clear, much to your embarrassment. chuuya is stunned further when your backside presses into his front and grinds down harder than your previous slight brushing. you’re absolutely shameless about it, fingers digging into the base of chuuya’s scalp.

you move your head and match his lidded gaze. “pleasantly surprised…”

in that moment you both move without thinking. it’s like something possessed you both, swam into your brain and took control. it happens so quickly too. one moment you’re simply staring in to eyes and the next, your lips are crashing into the ginger’s, meeting him halfway. it’s surprisingly smooth, an easy kiss considering your slightly intoxicated state. his lips are so plush and soft. you don’t know what you expected. you’ve caught yourself on multiple occasions watching him apply chapstick regularly and each time you were caught in a trance at the action.

chuuya knows exactly what he’s doing, almost as if he’s thought about this before — kissing you. his movements are deliberate and surprisingly soft for how eager he seems. your lips move in sync, slotted together and fitting in a way that makes you think that maybe you were made for one another. it’s a ludicrous thought, you know, but that doesn’t stop you from relishing in it all the same. this must be what dying and then going to heaven feels like, light and elated.

you’re both moving your bodies to the music around you. it’s quite impressive how chuuya is able to still lead you into moving in time with the beat reverberating through your bones. you turn your body so your chest is flush with his and you bring your other hand up to cup the executive’s face. he takes that opportunity to hold you closer and deepens the kiss. the ginger nips at your bottom lip then shamelessly swipes his tongues along it, eyes open to gauge your reaction. another whimper escapes you and you feel his lips curve once more into a satisfied smirk.

instead of deepening the kiss further, like where you thought chuuya was leading this, the man in question pulls away. you chase his lips but he’s too quick and you can’t manage to recapture them. how frustrating, it was just getting good too. your face scrunches in confusion.

“chuuya, no-” you lean in and leave an open mouth kiss on his neck and then suck some of his skin into your mouth and graze your teeth across his porcelain skin. chuuya lets out a shuddered breath but keeps his composure, for the most part. “more…”

your whine elicits a breathy laugh from the executive and he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek. he watches as your pretty eyes flutter shut at the slightest of touches. his imagination starts to run wild as he thinks of the types of reactions he can pull out of you when he does more to you. the thought alone almost drives him insane. you two need to get the hell out of this club and away from prying eyes.

“we have eyes on us, doll. why don’t we get out of here?” chuuya hums at you questioningly.

your eyes clear from their haze when the ginger’s words register. “...and go where?”

“my apartment. it’s not too far from here. plus- i brought a driver with me tonight. what do you say?”

the executive, your higher up, detaches himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. your decision was made the moment you set eyes on him while on stage. you easily take his hand and allow him to lead you out to the car he had waiting for the two of you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the car is nice, again it was something that costs far more than what your level at the port mafia could afford, but you’re still surprised. chuuya enjoys driving, so you never imagined him using a chauffeur. although you suppose he’s responsible and since he’s been drinking at a club…this is clearly the chuuya thing to do.

the chauffeur does his duty and goes to open the door for you. the younger man, someone you don’t recognize so he must be lower in ranks than you, is stopped by chuuya. the boy, you’ve decided he’s much younger than you — somewhere between 18 and 19 years old — startles at the executive’s hand landing on his shoulder.

“you can return to the car, kid. i’ve got the doors.” chuuya’s tone is light, but still, his words come out as a command.

the chauffeur looks absolutely horrified, obviously thinking he did something wrong and scurries back to the driver’s side. the ginger, on the other hand, clearly pays it no mind as he opens your door for you and offers his hand for help. you let out a light giggle and chuuya can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.

“what i do now?”

you shake your head at him in amusement. “that kid looks terrified. are you sure he’s even old enough to drive?”

“he is. taught him how to drive myself. trust me, he’s more than capable of driving us to my apartment.” he tilts his head to indicate that you should get moving into the car.

instinctively, you do as he says and make your way into the car. your head is still spinning from the champagne you had earlier and suddenly everything is moving quickly. chuuya gets into the car and tells his driver to get moving before lifting the partition, separating the two of you from the boy up front.

not even a moment later you find one hand gripping the armrest of the car door and the other gripping chuuya’s arm as he has his own ungloved hand shoved in between your thighs. his middle finger is toying with you, circling your clothed clit. your grip on him tightens when he shoves your panties to the side and gathers your wetness before focusing on your clit again.

your hips stutter and head falls back. your hazy senses distantly warn you that maybe doing this in a car where you aren’t alone with chuuya wasn’t a good idea. what if the driver opens the partition to ask something of your higher up. once again you’re smacked in the face that this isn’t exactly right, you shouldn’t be headed home with your boss.

you’re brought out of your thoughts when chuuya’s fingers dip down further and prod at your entrance. your breath hitches as he pushes his middle finger inside of you. his fingers are the perfect size, surprisingly long and not abnormally thick but not thin either. you’ve found yourself on multiple occasions staring at chuuya’s hands in the rare moments he actually removes his gloves.

you can feel a noise bubbling in your throat when he brushes his thumb across your clit. “chuu-“ you’re cut off when the ginger adds another finger.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying to not let any noises travel to the front of the car. chuuya notices and leans in, his arm reaching over to spread your legs open. his lips find yours as he does so and in that very moment he chooses to start languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. you can’t help yourself as you let small moans escape you but the man pulling them out of you makes sure to swallow them up.

when chuuya pulls away from you his bicolored eyes watch you carefully. “no need to hide your pretty noises from me, baby. ‘s soundproof.”

at that reassurance you let out a string of curses while his hand still works you skillfully. you don’t think a man has ever been able to make you feel this good with just his hand. hell, you don’t think even a woman has pulled you so close to the brink this fast with just her hands. it’s almost embarrassing how good he’s making you feel. what’s even worse? chuuya notices.

“‘m i makin’ you feel that good already? gonna be good and cum for me, doll?” chuuya’s fingers speed up, both the ones inside you and the thumb he has brushing against your clit.

you squirm at the increased intensity. your abdomen feels like it’s on fire, the warmth spreads and your vision starts to become spotted. your other hand on the car door now flies to his arm too and you brace yourself the best you can.

“mm fuck- chuuya- gonna- oh m- cumming!” you let out a silent squeal, mouth hanging open as your head is thrown back against the headrest.

your body convulses lightly as you plummet. the same warmth building from earlier now spreading throughout your entire body. your vision blurs and everything sounds muffled. moans are falling from your mouth but you don’t even register them. chuuya is merciless with his ministrations. he continues to guide you through your orgasm.

once you’ve settled down, all of your tense muscles relax and you slump into your seat. you let out a whimper when chuuya finally pulls away, leaving you feeling distinctly empty. you loll your head around to look at the executive. it’s all you can muster in this moment while you’re still trying to catch your breath.

the sight you’re met with almost makes you cum for the second time. the ginger looks over to you, catching your gaze immediately. as he maintains eye contact, chuuya brings his hand up to his lips and pushes his soiled fingers past them. you watch as his eyes flutter and throat bob while he drinks up the juices you left behind on his skin. he lets out a sinful groan and you swear it’s the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard.

you sit up straight and brace yourself for climbing over the center armrest but you’re both startled by a knock on chuuya’s window. that’s when you realize, you must be at his apartment because the car had come to a stop. you reach for your door handle but the sound of the executive behind you clicking his tongue draws your attention away from it.

you peer over at him and he’s giving you a disapproving glare. “don’t you dare touch that damn door, be patient, yeah?”

you feel your face flush, you don’t think you’ve ever been scolded for trying to open your own door. unable to find your voice you simply nod your head. a gratified smile stretches across chuuya’s face. he opens his own door and before he slips out he looks back at you.

“good girl.”

you choke on your own spit.

those two simple words are enough to have your thighs rubbing together, ready for him again. you’re blaming all of this in the two glasses of champagne you had back at the club. there was no way one man (derogatory) was pulling this kind of reaction out of you on his own. that would just be utterly ridiculous.

that’s what you try to convince yourself of when your car door opens and chuuya offers you his hand again. you gladly take it considering this time your legs are a little shaky. the gravity manipulator politely dismisses the driver and guides you into the building.

the ginger has you attached to his hip as the both of you step through the threshold. the lobby is quiet and almost sparkling. you think that this lobby is nicer than the entirety of your apartment. the difference is almost jarring. the older man that’s sitting at the front desk waves politely at chuuya and the executive gives him a friendly wave back.

“good evening, nakahara-sama. i see you’ve brought a guest.” the older man looks at you with a warm smile. “such a pretty young lady. it’s nice to see nakahara-sama with someone, he rarely has guests outside of his work colleagues.”

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. if only the man knew. but who are you to spoil his fun? in fact, you find yourself joining in.

“it’s nice to meet you…”

the old man blanches and looks almost mortified with himself. “how rude of me! my name is tanaka.”

you introduce yourself as well and give the man a mischievous smile. “thank you for boosting my ego, tanaka. it’s nice to know chuuya isn't bringing home many women.”

the older man’s eyes widen and he tries to stifle a snort.

“alright. you two are dangerous together. have a good evening tanaka.” chuuya quickly ushers you away with a sour look on his face. “to clarify, there’s a reason i don’t bring other women around and it’s not for the reason you think it is.”

you snicker and can’t help the sardonic smile that’s plastered on your lips. “then tell me, what’s the real reason, chuuya?”

you vaguely notice you pass a hallway of elevators and instead walk directly to a separate one with a key card pad.

“you. you’re the reason i don’t bring anyone else around.”

his voice is surprisingly soft and timid, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything without full confidence. you blink, the switch in his demeanor is so staggering you buffer for a moment. that paired with the implications of his words has your mouth flapping like a fish out of water.

you try to attribute the fluttering in your stomach to your earlier activities and not his words, yet you’re unable to form a proper coherent thought. “what do you- what?”

chuuya finds your blanching absolutely adorable. the ginger lets out a short chuckle. he doesn’t explain himself. instead the ability user leans in and holds your face with his now gloved hand. he searches your eyes for a moment, you don’t know what he’s looking for but after a moment you think he’s found it because his face relaxes into a satisfied expression.

he leans in all the way this time, capturing your lips with his own. the kiss starts off gentle but quickly turns fervent when he presses you into his and a wall. that’s when you feel a distinct bulge pressing on your stomach. the thought alone makes you whimper.

you detach yourself from chuuya’s lips and press your head against the wall behind you, the ginger isn’t deterred as he starts to trail kisses along your jawline. “chuuya…have you been hard this entire time?”

you’re met with a grunt as chuuya all but ignores your comment and works his way down your neck. you let out an amused puff of air and look for the button for what you can only assume is his private elevator. all you’re met with is that damn keycard pad. your arm is snaked around his waist and you tap on his back to gain his attention.

“chuuya, call for the elevator.” your voice comes out far more strained and breathy than you meant it to and you watch as chuuya notices.

he pulls away from you, only enough for him to reach into his pocket and give you an amused smirk. “since when were you the one to give the orders, huh, doll?”

you give him a deadpan look, clearly not amused by his teasing. chuuya, however, evidently thinks he’s hilarious and chuckles to himself as he leans back and scans his keycard to call for the elevator. this was the port mafia executive everyone is scared of? the strongest ability user in all of japan, maybe in all of the world? to you, in this moment, he seems like just some regular 20 something years old loser. he’s so lame and somehow you find it utterly endearing.

the elevator dings and the doors open. a lightbulb goes on in your head and you have a brilliant idea. without wasting another moment you push chuuya into the elevator and before he can even get a complaint out — you knew it was coming by the look on his face — your hand starts stroking his clothed cock. the ginger lets out a hiss as he stumbles back into the wall.

chuuya lets out a shaky breath that’s a stark difference to his following words. “shit, no need to be so rough. ‘m all yours.”

“i don’t know…something tells me you enjoy rough, chuuya-sama.” your tone is teasing, referring to the title tanaka previously used with the executive.

you watch in absolute amusement as your superior’s eyes fly open and brows shoot up. he looks at you with the most scandalized expression. he’s only ever seen this side of you with his other subordinates, your equals. he never realize how much he craved this type of interaction from you until just now. you just gave him something so precious and you don’t even know it.

chuuya is so astonished he can’t even formulate a way to tease you, his mouth is just blurting out words before his brain can catch up.

“where the hell did that mouth on you come from? just earlier you were trembling at the sight of me watching you sing.” you watch something flash in his eyes and his lips curl up devilishly. “y’know what? i think i deserve a reward for making you cum so easily in the car. what d’ya think, doll?”

you back away, a mischievous smile of yours matching his perfectly. you don’t keep the distance very long — someone had to hit the floor button to get this elevator moving. once you feel the soft jolt of the elevator you make your way to where you left chuuya, still leaning against the wall and watching your every move. the moment you’re close enough to him you sink to your knees.

you’re face to face with the ginger’s bulging crotch and you stare at him through your lashes. “is this what you had in mind as your reward?”

”yeah, something exactly like this.” chuuya reaches down and runs the fingers of both his hands through your hair, he gathers the tresses all together and fists it all in one hand in a makeshift ponytail. you hum in appreciation. while still looking at the freckled man through your lashes you stick your tongue out and lick a stripe across his clothed length.

the executive’s eyes flutter, a clear indication that he was sensitive, having been hard for far too long. his eyes momentarily leave yours and flit over to the floor number the elevator is passing. chuuya never thought he would ever value the slow ascent of this damn elevator but he’s found a new appreciation for it. you’ve only climbed 3 stories, which means you still have 20 more. that’s plenty of time, certainly enough for you to get his dick wet enough to slide right into your warm cunt once the elevator has made it to your destination.

you’re quick to earn chuuya’s attention back when he hears the sound of his buckle being undone. he’s met with the sight of you using your teeth. fuck. chuuya has always known you’re sexy, but this? this might actually drive him insane. a sweet smile curls at your lips as you watch him unravel before your very eyes.

you hasten your movements, popping the button of his slacks open and using your teeth, once again, to drag the zipper down just enough that his bulge in his boxer-briefs is freed. you do the same with his underwear and, god, when he’s finally free you have to take a moment to admire it. you think it’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, truly. that’s saying something considering you don’t necessarily find the sight of them attractive.

the length of it is just as pale as the rest of his body but the closer it gets to the tip, his skin turns into a soft pink. his veins are visible and pulsing at this point and his tip is already drooling. you notice how there’s a string of precum that’s attached to the wet spot on his underwear but you keep any comments to yourself.

you look up to chuuya only to find him already watching you. he must have caught you staring because his breathing is shallow and his cheeks are flushed the same shade of pink as his tip. you smile at him again and dart your tongue out to gently lick the slit of his tip. the ginger's head immediately falls back and he lets out a puff of air.

how is this man real?

you lick up his precum and it tastes absolutely divine. what the actual fuck is he made out of? and what the actual fuck is he doing to you? you actually think it’s insane how much you’re enjoying this.

your lips wrap around his tip and a low grumble reverberates in his chest. you’re so fucked. down horrendous for this man. your thighs start rubbing together and he’s not even hitting the back of your throat yet. this is so humiliating, no, this is so pathetic of you. you gladly got on your knees for this man. what the fuck is wrong with you?

”hah- doll, keep your pretty eyes on me, yeah? sh-shit- wanna see you cryin’ when you take all of me, got it?” chuuya’s bicolored gaze is somehow still sharp despite the obvious loss of a filter.

oh.

that’s what’s wrong with you. this man isn’t just a man. this is chuuya nakahara. port mafia executive, strongest ability user and apparently the owner of a silver tongue. your own had reaches up to his, the one that’s holding your hair and you guide him in shoving you down onto his length. you relax your throat and easily take him all in. your nose is buried in his pubic hair and eyes flutter as you test tightening up your throat around him. you gag around chuuya and he let’s out the most obscene moan you think you’ve ever heard.

the port mafia executive looks a mess. his free hand is tightly gripping his hat atop his head and the perspiration forming on his face starts to trickle along his temples and down his jawline. his breathing comes out in pants and he looks absolutely destroyed. a flicker of pride spreads across your chest. sure, this man has you on your knees voluntarily but you think he would just as easily get on his knees for you. you have this powerful man in the palm of your hand.

the hand tangled in your hair tugs on you just harsh enough to pull you off of him completely. “jesus christ, i can’t- fuck- doll. i can’t keep doing this, i need to be inside of you. right now. need to be buried in your pretty cunt, please-”

chuuya doesn’t wait for your response, he lifts you off the floor of the elevator and hoists you up. his grip on his self control is noticeably waning as he momentarily uses his ability to skip stabilizing you on your feet and immediately has you wrapping your legs around his hips. your head is dizzy, everything moving so quickly. the ginger notices and instantly corrects that.

he has one arm wrapped around you and it’s enough to keep you stable. “…sorry… i got carried away. are you ok with this. we can wait, just 5 more floors and we can go to my bedroom where i have condoms.”

his free hand strokes the hair away from your face. the gesture is soft, a complete 180 from his previous behavior. you lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut for just a moment to relish in how he calms you.

you hum lightly and open your eyes to look at him earnestly. “no, i want you now too. think we’ve both waited long enough.”

chuuya smiles at you and leans in to steal yet other kiss from you. this one is soft but just as desperate as the rest of them. he sneaks his hand between the two of you and pushes your underwear to the side once again. you feel his cock nestle itself right between your folds.

chuuya lets out a strained exhale and moves his hips to slide himself between your folds. “fuckin’ hell, doll. you’re so damn wet, could get off just like this. wanna feel how soft and warm your pussy is, though. can i, baby? please?”

your hands tug at the hairs at the base of chuuya’s neck and he hisses. “chuuya, please, just fuck me already.”

that’s all the confirmation chuuya needs. he uses his free hand that’s still positioned between the two of you to grab the base of his dick and align himself with your entrance. his tips prods at you and as he’s sinking you onto him, both of you letting out an absurd amount of moans, the elevator finally dings. the doors open to reveal chuuya’s apartment to you.

you would love to admire the vast living quarters but your attention is solely on chuuya. the way he stretches has you in near shambles. hiccuped whimpers leave your lips and you already feel so full.

you weren’t going to last like this, there is no way in hell you’re going to last more than maybe 5 minutes. but based on chuuya’s reaction, incoherent babbles falling past his lips and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, neither was he. the mafioso’s present enough to know you’ve made it to his apartment.

chuuya plants a hand on both sides of your ass and walks you into his home. he kicks his shoes off haphazardly and you let yours fall somewhere near his. your superior makes it all but 7 paces forward before he’s pressing you against a wall in the foyer.

“you feel s’fuckin’ good, baby. s’tight and warm and soft. s’perfect f’me.” the ginger’s words are slurred, more so than when he was actually drinking.

you’re in no better condition as you whine out, “chuuya, need more. need you to move, wanna feel you moving inside of me.”

who is he to deny you of such a pretty request. you’re practically sobbing when chuuya’s hips roll into you before pulling back and bullying back into your fluttering cunt. you let out a loud moan, almost screaming, the kind that hangs on the walls and echoes throughout the room. before you can get too carried away, you crash your lips into chuuya’s and let him drink up your noises just as you do with him.

his grip on your ass is bruising as his fingertips bite into the plush skin through your dress. god, your dress, it was one of the nicest articles of clothing you own and now it’s most definitely ruined. you hardly have the capacity to worry about that right now.

chuuya’s pace quickens to an impossible pace. he’s jostling you around so much that your head dizzies and you can’t even keep your lips attached to his. you let your head drop to the executive’s shoulder and your lips ghost his earlobe. your moans and whines are now loud and clear in his ear.

a guttural groan escapes the ginger and his hips begin to stutter. he’s close, you identify it right away. he was going to cum soon and you were still on the brink, barely not there yet.

“more, chuuya need- oh my god- need more, please…”

chuuya hums out an acknowledgement — maintaining his pace, he frees one of his hands and reaches between the two of you once more. his middle finger locates your clit with ease and it almost sends you spiraling right then and there.

your forehead nuzzles further into chuuya’s neck at the extra stimulation. “chuuya- fuck- chuuya, chuuya, chuuya….”

your mind finally goes blank giving way to the man bullying into your cunt so deliciously. he’s all you can hear, feel, smell, taste and see. your senses are consumed by him. your eyes well up with tears at the immense amount of pleasure your experience.

it’s only when you have enough sense to pick up your head to warn chuuya of your incoming orgasm that your fuzzy brain registers the encouragement and cooing he’s offering you.

chuuya’s voice is strained but his comfort is enough to send you into a fit of sobs as you finally crash into your second high of the night. this one is far more intense than the last. you feel your walls convulsing around chuuya’s cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him nestled deep inside of you. the aforementioned man seems to be at his wits end and his next words prove you right.

“o-oh- hah- fuck- doll, ‘m gonna cum- fuck- where do you want it, where do i- shit-“

you grip his shoulders desperately and let out a whimper, still incoherent and flitting in and out of consciousness as your orgasm still washes over you in waves. “inside- chuuya, want you to- mmm fuck- want you to cum inside of me. please, please, please-“

that’s it, that’s the only thing you need to say to have chuuya burying himself deep inside of your cunt and spilling into you. you can feel the way his cock twitches and pulses against your walls as he empties himself. you both breathe in unison as your try to catch your breath and come back to reality from the mind breaking pleasure you’d just experienced.

chuuya’s the first to come back. he straightens, letting his coat hit the floor. he’s gentle, moving you to lean into him as he continues to support you when he peels you off the wall. you hum in appreciation and vaguely realize you should wrap your arms around his shoulders, so you do.

chuuya doesn’t take you far. you’re lifting your head the same moment he’s squatting down to sit you both on the couch. he hoists you up, ready to slip himself out when you let out a noise that’s a cross between a whine and a whimper. you’re shaking your head at him and how is he supposed to say no to your tear streaked face.

chuuya allows you to cockwarm as he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing.

your head tilts in confusion and you furrow your brows at him. ”who are you texting?”

”the boss and akutagawa.” chuuya’s quick to answer as he types away still.

”…what for?”

he smirks and looks at you this time while he speaks. ”i need to tell the boss i’ll be missing our meeting tomorrow and akutagawa that you’ll be absent from assignment tomorrow. looks like we’ve both come down with a hellish stomach bug.”

your face flushes at his implication. it seemed to you chuuya didn’t plan on letting you sleep much tonight. you find yourself running your hands over his shoulders and chest. you wouldn’t mind seeing him completely undressed. when you look back at him, he seems to have the same thought as his eyes drink you in.

it’s probably for the best that he was calling you both off duty tomorrow. it seems like you have a long night ahead of you.

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