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therealpie02 · 10 months ago

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One story at the hotel

Pairings: San x fem! reader x Yeosang

Summary: You and your friends stayed at the hotel after a good evening with alcohol. But alcohol wasn't to blame for what happened next. Your secret desires made you play with each other.

Word count: ~2k

Genre: smut 18+

Warnings: ITS A FICTION! Threesome, dom!San, dom!Yeosang, somnophilia, voyeurism (reader), oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, honey, darling), squirting, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: friendly reminder English isn’t my native language <3

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Judging by the way your head hurt, you had a great time with your friends at the restaurant. Then at the bar. Then on a visit. Then at the hotel. You hardly remember these places, as alcohol has taken over your head. Your mouth was dry, head ached, and it was cool under the covers. In general, the "best" hangover combo.

You needed to go to the bathroom. Opening your eyes a little, you couldn't see anything at first. It was probably still the middle of the night, and only the moonlight from under the curtains made it possible to see something. For example, you were able to identify who your roommate was. Yeosang was sleeping on the other side of the bed, and his beauty took your breath away. He looked like a sleeping beauty, his dark hair spread out on the pillow, a few strands fell over his face, which shone in the moonlight. You had a terrible desire to touch your friend, your thoughts were spinning chaotically in your head, and your gaze fell on his lips. Suddenly his lips parted and he moaned softly.

You're frozen in place. You tried not to breathe or blink. What just happened? Has Yeosang learned to read your mind in a dream? A simple coincidence? It's all alcohol in the blood, just a figment of your imagination. Yeosang was asleep, he couldn't moan. However, when he did it again, you lowered your gaze even lower. His magnificent body was completely naked, his chest heaved with deep breathing, the muscles of his abs tensed with one sigh, his stomach retracted and tensed, as if he was being given a blowjob. You were trying to keep all your composure when you realized that it turned out to be true. Above Yeosang's dick was San's face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" your whole body tensed, you felt an incredibly strong arousal underneath. Maybe just knowing what's going on right now has made you so wet. You knew that there was a close bond between them, but you didn't realize that it was so close. And now you're in the middle of it all.

San, apparently, did this more than once, he slowly touched his lips to Yeo's cock, which, despite his master's sleep, became bigger and harder. The man didn’t want to wake up his friend, so he tried to do everything gently, slowly running his hand over the hardened cock. The pre-cum flowed from the head along the entire length and veins, and, frankly, the view was very appetizing. The naked San was lying on his stomach between Yeosang's thighs, his head slowly sank onto his cock, his lips captured the head and began to suck gently. From pleasure, San closed his eyes and with full pleasure continued to insert the cock further.

How hard you tried not to moan. Yeosang himself was still asleep, although he began to cry out moans more often while San enthusiastically sucked his cock. You couldn't even imagine such a thing, but you are watching them with your own eyes. You felt hot, you were ready to cry from how you wanted to touch your needy pussy. You gently lowered your hand to clit and slowly and silently circled it. A jolt of pleasure went through your body, but you didn't show it.

"Ah, mmff, ah" Yeosang began to wake up and at the same time slightly thrust his hips into San's mouth, to which the man sat down even deeper with a groan. Gods, your friend sucked another friend's dick. San started the cock by his cheeks, licked from the base to the head, without missing a single drop of pre-cum, smacking his lips with ecstasy took his thrusts. You have accelerated the movements of your hand, you feel that you will come very soon.

After a few more thrusts of Yeosang, you heard his long moan, saw how his stomach tightened and how he poured cum down his friend's throat. You wonder if Yeosang knows who did this to him? The answer didn’t take long to come. After San swallowed all the cum, he stood over Yeo's chest. With one hand, San caught him by the cheeks, forcing him to open his jaw, with the other hand he ran over his hard cock.

"San," Yeosang whispered, to which San ordered him to open his mouth wider with his hand. When you looked at San, you realized that San was looking at you. A heartbeat. You held your breath, your hand stopped masturbating. His closed eyes were looking at you, he smirked at you and cum on Yeosang's face. His cum got on his nose, eye, lips and mouth. Yeosang obediently took every drop with his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, squirming under the covers because you had never been so horny before. You wanted to hide and get free. You wanted to cum. And San realized it faster.

"Y/n, aren't we friends?" he asked, carefully pulling off your cover. You nodded.

"You won't mind, will you, y/n? Yeosang and I are friends, you and I are friends, and you want this too, right?" San pulled the cover off you, thereby revealing to himself a view of you in a T-shirt and in only lace panties. Yeo knelt next to San and also looked at your wet folds. Yes, you are friends. Yes, you wanted your friends terribly. Yes, you imagined these guys from your department fucking you. Yes, you wanted it to go on.

"Yes," you said confidently. San smiled, Yeosang smirked. They both reached for your face, and San kissed you first, wetly and casually, biting your lip. After that, Yeosang bit into your lips, forcing you to open up under his pressure. When you felt that he handed you San's cum, which was in his mouth, you moaned into his lips. Breaking away from you, San and Yeosang kissed and knelt down again. You didn't know if alcohol was playing with you or not, but you didn't care.

"Did you want to do everything yourself, kitten?" said San, spreading your legs wider. When he didn't get an answer, Yeosang grabbed your face.

"Did you want to play without us, honey?" left them without an answer, Yeosang pressed your face harder with his fingers. "Please answer."

"I... I didn't want to distract you."

"You wanted to leave us without fun, you bad kitten," San growled as he touched your horny clit. You felt everything begin to pull at the bottom of your stomach again. Gods… At this time, Yeosang pulled up that T-shirt, removing it from your body with one finger and clung to your nipple. You started to tremble and feel like you were going to make a complete mess. Right in front of your friends.

"San, no, no, now I..." you started, but San just started working faster on the clit.

"You're going to make a complete mess, aren't you?"

"San, Yeosang, let me go out, I'll come back, I..." you screamed when you felt two fingers pulling your panties apart and ending up in your pussy. They were Yeo's fingers.

"Do what we say," Yeosang flashed his eyes at you from under his brows, forcing you to give up all attempts to get out of this trap.

They continued to torture your pussy and you knew that you could no longer restrain yourself. Without stopping, with rhythmic hand works, your friends sent you over the edge of your mind. You screamed, not really worried that someone might hear, because you felt the most powerful orgasm in your life. Your juices started pouring out of you, but the men didn't slow down their moves, making you flow only harder.

"Damn, I..." You couldn't believe they made you squirt.

"Dirty dirty kitten" San smiled d to dimples on his cheeks "You just couldn't help yourself right in front of our eyes" he stroked your throbbing and wet pussy, making you tremble.

"I bet you've been wanting to do this with us for a long time, little slut," Yeosang's deep voice rang out.

"One day we will definitely do it again," and from these words of San, you loudly swallowed saliva.

"Now be a good friend, open your legs and mouth wider," San ordered, stroking your ass from below. You looked at Yeosang, who approached your face and took you by the hair. You obediently opened your mouth to his big and hot cock. He pushed half inside you, but you could feel the salty taste of his pre-cum and moan. Now you understood why San had such a face, it was impossible not to enjoy Yeosang's cock.

Meanwhile, San, watching you obediently accept a friend's cock with your mouth, entered your pussy with one thrust, forcing you to moan into Yeo's cock. He quickly picked up an accelerated pace and you couldn't focus on him.

"You better not get distracted, darling" Yeosang fixed your head with his hand and began to hip into your mouth, head touching the wall of your throat. The sensations caused tears to flow down your face, saliva to flow out of your mouth, and your pussy was approaching a second orgasm.

"San" after Yeo's conversion, San immediately came out of you and went to your face while Yesan came out of your mouth and took San's place. And you felt his cock in your pussy and the way he stretched you even more.

"You're such a good kitten, why haven't we played with you before huh?" without giving you an answer, San turned your head to his cock and entered your mouth at the same pace as a second ago into your pussy.

You were panting and moaning, you were squirming, but both guys were holding you tight enough. Who would have thought that you would live to see this? You felt Yeosang's hips become more chaotic and deep, knocking the air out of your lungs. After a couple of seconds, he pinched your waist in his hands and finished in you with hot cum. Damn it, your friend has cummed a whole bucket into you and you want to cum again at the very thought.

Still not fully recovering, Yeosang moved away and lay down next to you, returning the place for San and kissing your face and neck. San returned his cock to your pussy and moaned.

"You like to take everything from the two of us, right? Our friend's sperm has not cooled down in you yet, how are you ready to accept me?" you almost cum from these words. You started moaning and crying louder because San set an incredible pace of thrusts.

"Y/n, cum. Now," Yesan ordered in your ear and you obeyed him. Your walls tightened around San's cock and began to pulsate around him, from which San cum deep into you. After pausing for a couple of seconds to catch his breath, San came out of you and looked at that reddened and exhausted pussy, from which their sperm began to flow and he grinned at this view. San adjusted your wet panties and lightly patted your pussy.

He lay down on the other side of you and also started kissing your face along with Yeosang.

"You are so good, kitten, tomorrow you will walk with the same panties, communicate with others, knowing that our cum is inside you, feeling like such a pretty whore," San whispered stroking your whole body with his hand.

"You are a true friend, y/n," Yeosang whispered.

You lay with them and understood only one thing. Yes, you would like to repeat this night over and over again.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #san ateez #choi san #san smut #san x reader #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang

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lighthouseshepard · 2 months ago

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felt inspired by this insanely gorgeous piece of art that i cant get out of my head by @mikonez and my hand slipped (posting it here with their permission! ❤️)

"John?" Arthur murmurs, cracking one eye slowly open. "Is that you?"

Among the haze of his vision, a blend of shifting shadows and points of flickering light like radio static made tangible, he barely makes out the figure standing at the edge of the bed. If he had half a mind more than what he currently possessed, the sight might have set his nerves on edge. As it stood, fighting against the dredges of sleep which sought to keep him under, the familiar silhouette was nothing but a cause for another kind of concern.

"John?" he asks a second time. With a mumbled groan he picks his head up off the pillow, straining to see. "Are you alright?"

The figure shifts. John steps up to the side of the bed, walking through the wide beam of moonlight piercing soft and silver through the windowpane. In its gentle illumination the long, silken strands of black hair falling across his shoulders and down his back seemed to hold a faint glow.

"Hi, Arthur," he says quietly, uncharacteristically subdued. "Did I wake you?"

Even after a week of hearing that voice aloud he couldn't get used to it. The distinct and velvety rumble of John's words was stronger outside of his own head. Kinder somehow, too. Though they no longer carried the undercurrent of an echo, something of the god remained when he spoke.

"Hmm? No, no, you didn't." Arthur holds back a yawn. "I think I was dreaming."

"Oh?"

John drifts closer. The pajama pants and shirt they'd bought for him fit loosely on his new frame, creating the image of a man slouching uncertainly. Arthur couldn't tell if he truly was hunched or not, all six feet and more of him trying to appear as small as possible.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Honestly? I don't remember. A field of flowers, maybe. Something golden." Lifting his head further, he squints. "John, are you okay?"

Expressions on his face were surprisingly easy to read. Before they separated John theorized that he'd need to learn how to show emotion, that it wouldn't come naturally after getting his own body. His worry eventually fizzled into frustration when the opposite became true - every feeling, every fleeting thought, any inkling of desire was visible on his face from day one. He couldn't hide anything no matter how hard he tried. A lack of poker face, Arthur told him, but he failed to see how a card game came into play.

"I'm fine." He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

"Again?" At this Arthur props himself up on one elbow, both eyes focusing fully. "This is the third night you’ve woken up. You're not too cold, are you?"

"I don't... think so?" John replies, frowning. "I don't feel cold, anyway. If anything I'm itchy."

A flash of amusement shines in Arthur's tired smile. "I imagine clothes are going to take some getting used to, yes."

"That’s an understatement," John grumbles. He picks absently at the hem of his shirt. "I don't see why these are necessary."

"Because it's freezing outside and in, and you'll likely catch a cold without them. Plus-"

He waves him off. "I know. Societal conventions. Whatever. You're not wearing a shirt, I might add," he points out stubbornly.

"That's because I'm never cold."

"Do you even have a blanket?"

Arthur gazes up at him pointedly. "John, what's on your mind?"

Rubbing one arm with his hand, he glances down at his bare feet. Ten new fingers, ten toes. Entirely too many to deal with on top of everything else. "Like I said. I couldn't sleep."

"Right," Arthur says empathetically. His smile begins to dwindle, lips pulling downward. "I can't imagine it's an easy task, John. You are learning how to for the first time, essentially."

"Yeah, well," he huffs. "Instead of getting easier it's slipping further away from me."

"Are you still having those dreams?"

"I wouldn't call them dreams, Arthur." More along the lines of nightmares.”

"Right," Arthur repeats, mumbling. "No, of course not."

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, studying what he could of John in the moonlight. Although his sight had yet to return fully, the slow progress was enough of a lifeline to keep him at ease, for now. Neither could have predicted how the ritual would turn out, and for them to both emerge alive, first and foremost, was an odd little cosmic blessing in itself.

After a week John was still adjusting. Arthur didn't blame him in the slightest, but the empathy he felt for his situation wasn't always well received. John, so far at least, tended to misconstrue it as pity regardless of how many assurances he was given.

As Arthur gazes up at him, he notes two things: among the frustration worrying a crease into his brow, another more poignant emotion lingered underneath, so far removed from what shape he knew longing to take that it swung all the way back around into desperation; and John, arms now crossed along his torso, was shivering.

"John, you're - come here," Arthur says without a second thought. "Take my blanket, take something. Where's yours?"

"In the other room." Hesitantly he sits on the edge of the bed. A body still so weak from all it had endured made for difficult navigation. Muscles and limbs he was figuring out how to control never seemed to want to bend easily to his will.

"Why didn't you bring it with you? You’re clearly freezing."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to be near you."

"Oh."

In the silver tinted darkness, he reaches out a hand. At the touch on his arm John startles, glancing down. He doesn’t pull away.

"Listen, John," Arthur says quietly, "why don't you just stay here tonight?"

"What?"

"Stay here with me. There's plenty of room. You're tall, yes, but you aren't going to fall off the end. It might... help, that's all. And-"

He swallows. "Truthfully, I miss you over there."

The offer doesn't sit so much as float between them, a gauzy, gentle thing. John studies Arthur's face, all his various scars, the hint of gold in his gaze now subtler for his absence. How peculiar for those features he knew better than the ones he had now to be reversed, no longer viewed from behind a mirror’s reflection.

"Okay," he says simply.

John leans forward, stretching out over him. Wide eyes follow his movements, lips parted slightly in a question Arthur couldn't quite get out, but he doesn't dare move. Long legs straddle just below his waist, forcing his head back down onto the pillow. Sections of silken hair slip forward off John's shoulders as he comes into view, hovering over Arthur with a kind of familiarity and trust that leaves them both a little breathless. One hand cradles his cheek, and Arthur feels his own slip unthinkingly beneath the fabric of John's shirt to splay steadily along the warmth of his stomach.

"Hey," Arthur whispers, smiling. "When I said stay here, I didn't mean on top of me."

"You didn't tell me not to, though," John hums. A thumb brushes across Arthur's jaw. "You're warm."

"And suffocating.”

“Mm. Do you want me to move?’

Breath not his own whispers against his mouth. Their faces were only inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss him now, he thinks, repeat the way they’d all but crashed against each other upon coming out from that ritual weak and coughing but alive, not thinking anything save for the gratitude they couldn't figure out how else to express.

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, too focused on the everything which came after. Arthur wonders if he would taste any differently fresh out of a bad dream, settled somewhat into new limbs. He stares up in abstract wonder, hoping one day soon he would be able to see the person above him with enough clarity to fully appreciate what hard won circumstance gave them both.

“Arthur?” John asks. His voice drops to a low rumble, expression searching and hopeful. Though he looked just as exhausted as Arthur felt, a quiet fire was beginning to brim behind his eyes.

“What?” he stutters out. “Sorry, John.”

“I asked if you wanted me to move.” That caressing hand drifts upwards, brushing through auburn hair mussed from sleep. “Is this okay? I don't want to go back to the other room.”

“No, John, it's - no, wait, don't go!” He grips John’s hip with a force that startles them both when he begins to pull away. “I meant no, you don't have to go back. You can stay here. It's okay,” he adds, pulse a flutter caught in his throat. “It's alright.”

John exhales in relief. “Thanks. I, um… I fucking hate it, Arthur,” he admits softly. “Not having you next to me, I mean. It doesn't feel right, sleeping alone. Not that sleeping overall feels right, but…”

“Yeah, John,” Arthur sighs, “it doesn't feel the same to me, either.”

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

“I - what?”

A body starved for connection from the first moment of its tangible conception lays out along him, chest flush to his own scarred torso. Parts of John felt only in passing were suddenly closer than they ever had been previously: knees on either side of his thighs, a waist he grasped with both hands, arms and elbows and a brief glimpse of collarbone from beneath the shirt slipping off one shoulder. All the indelicate human pieces which comprised someone distinctly inhuman pressed against him, imbued with a fervency reminiscent of an ocean trying to return to the droplet from where it first originated - and it aches.

Arthur answers his question.

It’s nothing like the first, yet still an inkling of similar desperation colors the way their lips meet. They don’t collide so much as come together solidly in the middle, both tilting their heads forward to close the few inches that remained. John’s mouth is warm and firm, his hesitation lasting for only a second, and Arthur kisses him with as much conviction as he can muster without losing himself in the process. His arms move from John’s hips to wrap around his back, pulling him closer still. When they part by necessity for breath alone, each gasping quietly into the dim, Arthur struggles to speak.

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “You can stay, John. I don’t - I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else from now on.”

John grins down at him. “Good,” he says, and leans in anew.

#uhh how do i even tag this #malevolent #malevolent fic #this probably wont end up on ao3 but #jarthur #srsly guys mieke's stuff is just #!!!!!!!!!

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synamartia · 1 month ago

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“ No Strings Attached . . . „

“ I'll have you begging for more . . . „

synopsis ┊ ◜ You always dreamed of having a family of your own; the loving spouse, a couple of kids, maybe a pet or two - the whole nine yards. After spending years being unable to find a suitable match, and with your biological clock ticking, you decide to cut out the loving spouse and skip straight ahead to parenthood on your own. But when you discover how expensive alternative family planning methods can be, you're convinced by a friend to let a donor impregnate you the old-fashioned way - no strings attached . . . ◞ wc ┊ ◜ 6,817 ◞ warnings ┊ ◜ Adam x Reader ✧ Afab!Reader ✧ No pronouns or Y/N used ✧ Human!AU ✧ Explicit / 18+ Only / MDNI ✧ Sexual situations ✧ Breeding kink ✧ Dirty talk (you will never convince me that Adam is the quiet type in bed) ✧ Unprotected sex ✧ Creampie ✧ Prostitution (if you squint real hard) ✧ Teeny mentions of roofies and sexual assault (dialogue only; no actions) ✧ Sexting ✧ Vaginal fingering◞ notes ┊ ◜ I had so much trouble trying to figure out who fit this prompt best, and as much as I would love to have a bit more variety in my fics, my heart keeps leading me back to Adam. Go check out our masterlist and be sure to show how much you appreciate all the hard work my lovely wives are putting into this collab~! They're working their asses off to feed us so well - let them know how thankful you are for their dedication to the provisions of our wet dreams~! <3 ◞ links ┊ ◜ syn's masterlist ✧ coven kinktober 2024 ◞

"... and then this fucktard decides he's gonna hop up on stage and try to take my guitar from me in the middle of my fucking set!"

The loud exclamation had you looking around the restaurant, searching for its origin when you noticed the silvery coiffure of your friend at the end of the bar. You raised your hand up in hopes of catching her attention as you tried to squeeze through the small crowd, the buzzing noise of multiple conversations going on all at once drowning out the anxious thoughts racing through your head. "Lute, hey!" you called, weaving around tables and bodies alike when you realized that she wasn't alone.

Sitting on one of the stools was your long-time friend, Lute, and a rather stout, burly looking man in the adjacent seat. Even sitting, it was obvious he was tall, especially when compared to the much smaller frame of your friend. He had a sharp face, his jaw chiseled and nose straight, with skin smooth and free of blemishes save for the cropped patch of facial hair on his pointed chin. His tousled hair was a soft walnut brown, a short shag cut slicked back with a few loose strands hanging down over his forehead. His smile was wide, thin lips stretching across a straight row of pearly white teeth, with lines that told a story of a man that laughed and smiled often.

And his eyes - oh, those eyes. They were narrowed with a hunter's shape, a deep hazel brown with flecks of gold that beckoned you closer with nothing more than a wink and a smile the moment you caught his attention.

By all accounts, he was an attractive man. Under different circumstances, you would have asked Lute to set you up on a legitimate date, see if his personality was as smooth as his appearance.

The closer your feet dragged you to the table, the quicker your heart began to beat at the thought of going through with this. Swallowing hard, you had half a mind to turn right around and walk out, to back out of this meeting she had set up for you and go back to your original plan of finding a suitable life partner. But the thought of going through another string of first dates with someone giving you back-handed compliments all night helped you to steel your resolve and follow through.

"There you are. I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up or not," Lute spoke, pulling you from your thoughts as you approached the bar, heart pounding in your ears as you clutched the strap of your bag close.

"Huh? O-oh, yeah. Right... Sorry, traffic was a bitch. I left fifteen minutes early, but there was an accident on the freeway, so it was very stop and go for a while," you explained with a sheepish grin, sliding your bag over your head and slipping onto the stool next to Lute.

"Oh, tell me about it. I live near Main, ain't no such thing as calm in that hellhole. Always gotta leave at least thirty minutes sooner just to get out of the area," the man spoke, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "And that's on foot. Don't even think about it if you're in a fucking car. Trying to drive down there is a total shit show."

You laughed, silently cursing yourself for your subconscious desire for pathological niceties as you waited to be introduced, anxiety levels making it near impossible for you to say anything else in that moment.

"Yeah, yeah, traffic sucks, whatever," Lute dismissed the topic quickly, pointing a finger at Adam while staring at you. "This is Adam, my boss. He's the guy I was telling you about," she introduced him to you, then you to him as the bartender set a row of three shots down in front of her.

Reaching a hand across Lute, Adam flashed you a cocky smile as you shook it up and down. "Nice to meet ya," he said, reaching for one of the shots and downing it quickly before your friend could protest. Glaring harshly at the much larger man, Lute picked up the remaining two shots and threw them both back before standing up. "Can't believe I set this shit up. Both of you owe me big time," she said, voice laced with annoyance before turning around to make her exit and leaving you flabbergasted at the curt audacity.

You watched as she walked out of the restaurant, the bustle of patrons and work-staff soon swallowing her figure and shielding her from your line of sight. Biting into your bottom lip, you shyly turned back to Adam, unsure of where to begin.

"Well then," he started, shaking his head as you moved to the stool Lute had previously occupied. "I can't say her behavior is surprising. She's always been like that - very short and to the point. Can't say I blame her though; this is a weird ass topic to play third wheel to."

"Hah! Yeah, she can be a real bitch sometimes, but she's still good people. Just... very blunt," you responded, watching as he twisted back and forth on the stool, almost like a child playing with a swivel chair. It was a cute scene, especially for someone with such a no-nonsense type of appearance. Adam raised a hand to call the bartender back over before turning back to you, nodding his head to the assortment of liquors behind the bar. "What'cha drinking? My treat."

"Oh, I'm not drinking," you started. "I can't anyway. I don't have anyone to come pick me up," you explained with a sheepish grin, to which Adam rolled his eyes once more and turned to look at the person on the other side of the bar. "Don't worry about that shit, babe. I'll pay for a taxi if you get too wasted," he reassured you, flashing you a charming smile before ordering a drink you'd never heard of before. It must have been a specialty at this place.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from protesting. As much as you wanted this meeting to be purely transactional, the nature of the topic at hand had frayed every single one of your nerves and left you feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye - a drink could come in handy and make things a little less awkward. When the bartender set the unknown drink before you, Adam raised a single brow at the uncertainty ever present on your soft features as you simply eyed the glass, leaning forward just enough for you to catch him in your peripheral vision.

"What's the matter? You think I'm gonna try to drug you or take advantage of you?" he asked as you continued to weigh the pros and cons of having a drink with your potential sperm donor. You couldn't help but laugh at the idea of him attempting to slip you something. It was probably a naive thing for you to do by assuming a complete stranger wouldn't try to harm you just because you were here to discuss a deal bordering on prostitution. But Lute had assured you again and again during the days leading up to this meeting that Adam wasn't that type of guy - he was a douche without a filter, sure, but forcing himself on someone while they were vulnerable wasn't his style.

"No. There's no point in doing any of that," waving a hand in the air to dismiss the notion as you reached for the cocktail he had ordered for you, taking a small swig from the glass. "Besides, if Lute trusts you, then you're good in my book."

Adam nodded his head, his grin widening a bit as he placed a hand on his chest. "You flatter me, babe. Where has she been hiding such a pretty little thing like you?" he flirted, eyeing you up and down momentarily as you set the drink down after you remembered why you were here in the first place. Reaching into your bag to pull out a vanilla folder and sliding it to him, you didn't beat around the bush, pushing aside social conventions of small talk and pleasantries. This meeting was meant to be strictly business in nature, so the less words you exchanged with each other, the better. "No small talk? Right down to business, I see. No wonder you two're friends," he added as he reached for the similar looking file sitting on top of the bar.

"Yeah, sorry. I've wasted too much time in the dating pool with nothing to show for it. I'd rather just skip that part now."

"Hey, it's all good. I get it," Adam raised his hands defensively for a moment before pulling out the pre-drafted contract you had passed him and skimming over the first page. He never really bothered to read these things - the legalize was always so confusing, and even when he did read it, his chances of understanding any of it was very low. "Saves me the trouble of trying to impress you to get into your pants later," he joked, to which you laughed back.

Already you were beginning to feel at ease around Adam - though you weren't sure if it was because of his apparent easy-going personality or the drink you were nursing, its fruity taste lingering on the tip of your tongue after each sip. He seemed nice enough. Maybe getting to know him wouldn't be so bad.

'Nope. This isn't a date, date. Can't let myself get distracted,' you told yourself as you pulled the contents of his records out to go over them, searching for the other shoe before it had a chance to drop. Things never went this smoothly for you - if they did, you wouldn't be here trying to pay a complete stranger to fuck a baby into you. Part of you hoped there wasn't one, but experience had taught you there always was - it was more about how big said shoe was going to be. And, based on his looks and his charismatic personality (or what you've seen of it, anyway), it had to be a pretty damn big one.

"So, that's all the medical documents you needed to see. Genetic test results, family history, my last physical, sperm count and all that shit, blah blah blah," Adam explained, waving his hand in the air as he flipped to the next page of the contract. From what he was able to understand so far, there was nothing in it that he had a problem with.

It was a pretty cut and dry contract, detailing the transaction and individual responsibilities of each party along with waivers to parental rights and financial liabilities, dates for when conception should be attempted and how often it should occur. "Everything's looking good over here so far- ... wow, you're a retired veteran? I would have never pegged you for the commander type, you seem so chill," you spoke, glancing up from the paperwork when Adam chuckled at your response.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. It's been years since I was honorably discharged though, so I've had some time to fall out of the stricter regime of military life," Adam explained to you as he flipped to the third page, skimming over the first couple of paragraphs when his eyes zeroed in on one particular clause. Turning to you, he leaned in closer and pointed at the section in question. "You said you wanted this to be a no strings attached type of thing, but this part's gonna make it really fucking boring. The sex is the fun part, so why put restrictions like no foreplay or kissing?" he asked, his voice just a tad louder than necessary and calling the attention of a couple nearby.

Your cheeks heated up when you noticed them staring, lowering your head as you leaned even closer to Adam and whispered, "Shh, keep it down! It's just to make sure things don't get too complicated, is all," you explained, bringing the papers up to hide your face before continuing on. "And besides, I've never had a partner that's made me... you know..." you trailed off shyly, face burning even hotter when you noticed the smirk now plastered on his chiseled features and his laughter flooded your ears, cursing yourself for agreeing to do this in public.

"What's so funny?" you asked when, even after several seconds, his laughter showed no signs of dying down. The embarrassment of such a revelation as well as his laughing was beginning to sting, and the eyes you could feel were glued to your back only made it that much worse. Setting the papers down on the bar top, Adam covered his mouth with one hand and waved the other in the air, trying to stifle his laughter before you could walk out on him then and there.

"I'm sorry, really. I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I'm laughing at those fucking losers that couldn't get you off. It's just- it's so fucking sad," he said in between each breath, his laughter finally dying out before he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning closer so that only you could hear him this time. "Because if it were me, I wouldn't have let you leave the bed until I made you cum on my face at least three times," his voice low and husky, his smirk wide and arrogant as he pulled away. Bringing a hand up to rest his chin against his palm, Adam discreetly stuck his tongue out between two fingers and rapidly wiggled the tip up and down when no one was looking, reveling in the squeak you let out as you tried to cover your face once more.

"Oh my god," you mumbled, hiding your crimson red face behind the documents he had provided you, rubbing your thighs together for some much-needed friction as a damp wetness began to pool between your legs. Adam stared at you for a couple more seconds before he reached for the nearby pen you had clipped to the vanilla envelope. "Save the flattery for after I've made you see heaven, babe," he told you, drawing a line through that particular clause. He then reached for the papers you were hiding behind, pulling them down until they rested flat on the bar top and scribbled something at the top of the page you had been reading.

"Here's my number; I can get yours from Lute. I'll have a lawyer look this over, and we can meet up to make it official after," he promised, handing the pen back to you before leaning in to place a lingering kiss to your left cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth. With another wink of his golden flecked hues, Adam stood up to his full height, giving you a complete idea of just how massive he actually was while tossing some money down for both the drinks and the taxi he had promised you, turning to leave a couple seconds later.

"Be seeing you real soon, sweetheart."

...

Wait, what just happened?

A couple of weeks had gone by since your first meeting, and you had yet to hear from Adam. You couldn't keep him off your mind after that day at the bar, the way he looked at you and how he spoke, his voice thick with honey as he promised to make you see heaven over and over again. Anxious for the contract signing and curious to see if he really could, you found yourself scrolling through his social media during your down time and typing out lengthy messages detailing everything you wanted him to do to you with lewd photos of yourself attached, only to delete it all before pressing send.

With each day that passed, your desire to see him again was getting stronger, turning more desperate with every night he appeared in your dreams. It was becoming borderline obsessive, but it never went further than staring at his picture or watching videos of him when you were touching yourself, imagining it was his hands that were pleasuring you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he pounded into you from behind.

It was ridiculous how easily he managed to wrap you around his finger with just a single line and a wink.

Even now, sitting at your work desk and filling out paperwork, you found Adam worming his way to the front of your mind, sapping your concentration as the voices of your coworkers went in one ear and out the other. Eventually, the words you were writing began to shift to illegible scribbles as you closed your eyes, wondering what he could be doing right now. You felt a sharp pang in your chest when you considered the idea he may have lost interest in your deal, and that was why he hasn't contacted you yet.

Sighing heavily, you slammed your pen down on the desk and reached for your phone, finding his contact immediately. Your patience was running thin at this point. If he did lose interest, why didn't he at the very least message you so that you didn't dwell on him any longer? The whole point of this was to beat the clock, and he was wasting your precious time with his radio silence. And on top of that, you were ovulating, your hormones running rampant and leaving you in a perpetual state of emotional chaos. Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you began to type away furiously while struggling to hold back your tears, teeth sinking into the side of your cheek and leg bouncing rapidly beneath your desk.

But just as you were about to press send, your phone beeped, a new message from Adam popping up as your finger hovered over the send button. Part of you wanted to send the message anyway and not bother to hear his explanation for his ghosting you, but as per usual, your hormones seemed to run the show during this stage in your cycle. You couldn't help yourself.

Scrolling up until the text box was just a singular line, you checked the message he had just sent you. When you opened the attachment, you slammed your phone down the second you saw the picture, making your nearby coworkers jump at the sudden noise. "... You okay?" one asked after a few seconds of silence passed and you hadn't made a single attempt to explain your sudden movements yet. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you nodded slowly as you looked down, wrapping an arm around your lower abdomen as you tried to play it off as menstrual cramps.

"I'm okay! Just cramping a bit, I think I might be on my period," you hurriedly explained as you reached for your purse, not sparing another second for them to ask further questions as you rushed off to the bathroom. "I'm going to lunch! Be back soon!" you exclaimed, your words barely reaching the rest of the group as you had already put a considerable amount of distance between you in your rush for privacy.

Once you reached the bathroom and locked yourself inside one of the privacy stalls, you unlocked your phone again to get a better look at the picture Adam had sent you. Heart pounding in your ears and heat pooling within the gusset of your panties, you studied the shape of his nude body, cursing the redrafted contract he had used to cover up his cock, that arrogant crooked smirk that has haunted your dreams present as he looked directly into the camera.

A: Lawyer's done reviewing the contract. U ready to sign? 😘

With a whine, you hastily deleted your lengthy rage fueled rant from before, instead choosing to send a much shorter response,

Y: Yes!! When and where?? ❤️‍🔥 A: Are you free rn??? I can meet u at the notary's office in 20 Y: Sounds good!! Just went on break, be there soon!

You couldn't control the excited squeal that escaped your throat as you reached for the lock on the stall. Before you could unlock the door though, you stepped back and set both your purse and phone down on the mounted toilet paper rack.

Without thinking about it at all, you reached to pull your hair down and undo your shirt to reveal the lace bra you wore underneath and bunching your skirt around your waist so that your matching panties were showing as well. You picked your phone back up and opened your camera, trying not to think about it so as to avoid losing the confidence to follow through on teasing him back. You took a few snapshots of your scantily clad figure - squeezing your breast in one; dipping your hand beneath the fabric of your panties in another; and taking a few of your bare pussy for good measure, careful not to show your whole face in any of them.

Before you could change your mind, you sent a couple of the best shots you were able to get, setting your phone back down the second the 'sent' note popped up above the images. As you were redressing yourself and raking your hands through your hair to pull it back up, your phone dinged with a new message from Adam lighting up the screen.

A: 🍆💦💦💦 A: Fuck that's hot A: Want you to shove your tits in my face while you ride my dick A: Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so full with my cum baby

Your phone dinged again at the arrival of a new message with an attachment - a video this time. Reaching for your purse, you searched for the earbuds you carried with you, quickly popping them in after making sure the bluetooth was connected and the audio wouldn't play out loud before you opened the attachment.

Slapping a hand over your mouth to stifle a moan of excitement, you watched as Adam slowly pumped his hand along his girth, using the precum that dribbled from his tip as a lubricant, breathy moans coming through your earbuds and making your heart race. If you weren't on a clock right now, you would have stripped back down and fired back with a video of your own.

Unfortunately, you were at work, and in the public bathroom no less. You couldn't do something like that here, lest someone walk in and hear the noises you would make just to torture him a bit more.

Y: Promise? 🥺 A: Ofc ❤️‍🔥 Hurry up and get here. Can't wait much longer, need to feel your pussy gush on my cock Y: omw 🫦💦

You had never sprinted to a car so fast in your adult life.

"... Alright, everything looks to be in order. You both signed, initialed, showed your IDs," the notary seemed to drone on forever, her voice high and nasally as you squirmed in your chair, anxious to get through the signing process. Adam didn't seem bothered at all as he sat next to you, face calm and collected save for that ever-present smirk of his that had you biting your own tongue to keep yourself from shoving it down his throat.

Adam would steal glances at you, winking whenever he managed to catch you staring as he drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, foot tapping to the beat of the song playing in the back of his mind. "Okay. I'll get this filed for you in a jiffy. You'll both get a letter in the mail once the processing is complete and everything's official," the notary informed you, and your heart sank momentarily when you thought you would have to wait to feel his hands on your body.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask the notary how long it would take for the processing to be complete, Adam reached over and placed a hand over yours, signaling for you to drop the issue and follow him out. "Thanks!" he called back, leading you out of the cramped office building and onto the street.

You followed him in silence as he guided you down the busy sidewalk on Main Street, weaving through the crowd so fast you were struggling to keep up with him. "Adam? Where are we going?" you tried to ask over the loud hustle and bustle of the noisy street.

"I told you I can't wait."

Adam had told you twice already, yet still you were shocked by the urgency with which he kissed you the second his front door was locked. Slamming you against the wall and pressing himself into your body, he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, tongues swirling and teeth clashing as you rushed to undo your buttons.

"Been- ... fuck, been dreaming about this for weeks now," Adam mumbled against your mouth, leveraging you between the wall and his hips as he pulled back far enough to pull his novelty tshirt over his head and discard it somewhere nearby. Rocking back until he was supporting your full weight once more, Adam turned and took a few long strides to the nearby couch, plopping down with you straddling his lap.

"Yeah? Then why'd you wait so long to text me?" you asked breathlessly when you pulled back, pulling your arms free of your dress shirt and carelessly yanking the clip out of your hair to let the tresses cascade freely down your back. "Don't tell me you got shy all of a sudden," you teased, grinding your hips down against his clothed length and pulling a guttural moan from his chest as he guided your hips back and forth.

"H-had to- god that feels good!" he said through his panting, cheeks flushed red and pupils blown wide with arousal. Tracing a hand up the front of your body, Adam gripped the center band of your lace bra and pulled it down until your breasts spilled from the cups. He wasted no time in shoving his face into the valley between your breasts, pressing heated kisses to them and teeth nipping at the tender flesh before hungrily sucking a pert nipple into his mouth, massaging the other with his free hand and eliciting a deep moan from you.

"S'that right, baby? Why?" you asked him in a breathy whisper, your fingers tangling in his mussed-up hair as you pressed your lower half further against the bulge of his worn-down jeans. Adam pulled away from your chest long enough to move to the other one, moaning against the hard bud as his hands trailed down to your skirt, pushing it up to bunch around your waist. Running two fingers along your clothed pussy, Adam smirked against your skin when he felt how wet you had become with so little stimulation before he pulled back again to look up at you.

"'Cause if I hit you up before the contract was done, I was gonna come over to your place and fuck you stupid," he explained, licking a stripe up between your breasts until he was nipping at your jaw. Gripping your hip tightly with one hand, Adam pushed the gusset of your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into your waiting heat, groaning loudly at how easily they glided against your gummy walls thanks to how wet you were. "Ohh fuck, you're so fucking wet and I've barely touched you," he moaned as he pumped his thick digits in and out quickly, setting a rapid pace as your juices dripped down his hand, leaving dark spots on his jeans.

"You weren't the only one dreaming about this, you know," you gasped, bracing yourself against his shoulders as the meat of his palm slapped against your clit each time he pushed back in, the squelching noises of your wet heat filling your ears as the pleasure built twice as quickly. "That so? You been dreaming about my cock?" Adam asked as he sank his teeth into the side of your neck, your cries making his cock jump within the much too tight fabric of his pants. "M-mhmm, fuck please don't stop!" you whined when he slowed down his ministrations, opting instead to press the pad of his thumb to your puffy clit and draw rough circles against the little bud.

Adding a third finger to your dripping core, Adam picked the pace back up when he felt your thighs begin to tremble, realizing that you were already close to a release. If he wasn't so bricked up, he would have slowed down until your orgasm escaped you, but he was just as - if not more - desperate for your touch as much as you were for his. "That's it, baby, let me feel you gush on my fingers," he urged you, reaching down to palm himself through the rough fabric as your nails dug into the bare skin of his shoulders.

Clenching your eyes shut tightly, you lowered your head as you began to grind down against his hand, chasing that elusive high that you could only seem to reach by yourself. You were so close to an orgasm, your first one with a partner and not one of those fake ones to make the other person feel better about themselves. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuh-uuhhck-!" you cried wantonly, rocking your hips back and forth as he pressed his fingers further into your greedy cunt, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive little bud. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Adam urged you on, pulling away from your neck and staring up at your tensed expression, struggling to move his fingers in and out as you began to clench around them, grip tight and unrelenting.

A few more pumps of his fingers and a couple more hard circles drawn on your clit, and you were throwing your head back in a silent cry, your walls fluttering around his girthy digits, refusing to let him pull back even a single centimeter as your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train. After what seemed like forever, you finally released the breath you didn't realize you had been holding, chest heaving as your lungs sucked in air and your vision began to clear as you came down from one of the most intense orgasms you've experienced yet. Grip loosening on his shoulders, you tilted your head down to look at Adam, a groan falling from your lips when you saw him greedily sucking your fluids from his fingers.

Catching your gaze, Adam pulled his fingers from his mouth and swiped at your oversensitive pussy, collecting more of your fluids before reaching up and pressing the pads of his fingers against your lips. "Open," he commanded you, and you wordlessly obeyed, letting him push his slick covered digits into your mouth and press against your tongue, sucking harshly as you hummed around them. "Shit, that's so fucking hot," he moaned as he pulled back his hand, grabbing you by the hips and pushing you off of him to stand up and undo his belt.

Turning to look over your shoulder at him, you bent over until you were on your hands and knees, wiggling your ass just to tease him that little bit as he frantically unzipped his pants and pushed them and his boxers down to his knees. "Gonna make good on your promise to fill me up?" you asked innocently, biting your bottom lip as you felt the couch sink in when he knelt down behind you.

Chuckling in response to your tease, Adam bent over your form to whisper in your ear. "Oh I'll do more than just make good on my promise," he told you, supporting his weight with one arm on the back of the couch as he lined himself up with your slick entrance. Placing several messy kisses to the nape of your neck and shoulders, Adam straightened himself out as he rubbed the tip of his weeping cock against your folds, groaning at the warmth that enveloped it when he pushed in just slightly. He wanted so badly to drag this first time out with you, but the absolute hunger, the animalistic desire coursing through his veins in that moment sapped every ounce of self-control he possessed.

"M'gonna stuff you so good, make you scream-" a grunt interrupted his speech when he suddenly slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your warm wet walls in one swift motion, "-my fucking name while you cum on my fucking cock!" Retracting his hips until only the tip remained inside, you whimpered at the emptiness you felt until he was driving his hips forward again, pelvis slapping against the fat of your ass as he repeated the action over, and over, and over again, knocking the breath from your lungs each time his wide girth stretched your gummy walls open.

"Oh, f-fuck!" you gasped every time, pressing one hand against the armrest of the couch to find some purchase as you tried to push back against him each time he thrust forward, his hands holding you by the hips tightly, grunting each time your tight pussy wrapped around his aching cock. "Yeah, that's it baby, push back on it, just like that, fuck!" he groaned, speeding up as he watched your ass bounce with each slap of his hips, ripples rolling through the fat each time he drilled himself impossibly deeper into your core.

"S-shit, pussy's so fucking good, barely even started and you're making me wanna cum already!" he grunted through gritted teeth, delivering a hard slap to your ass cheek before caressing the spot where he struck you, repeating the action several times and pulling loud squeals of pain mixed with pleasure from your throat. "Oh fuck me, Adam, harder, please!" you begged, nails digging into the faux leather of his worn-down couch, that coil in the pits of your belly tightening faster than the first time he made you cum.

Strings of profanities spilled from both your lips as he fucked into you at a brutal pace, the rhythmic 'pap, pap, pap!' sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls and drowned out any noise coming from outside. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck, give it to me!" you begged, losing yourself in the pleasure and clenching your eyes shut as Adam felt that familiar flutter of your walls, signaling your release. Reaching up, he wrapped one hand beneath your jaw and pulled up slightly, pressing his other hand down into the small of your back and forcing you into a deep arch as he ground his hips into yours, making minute thrusts as he arched himself over your contorted figure just enough for you to see his face.

"You want it? Y'want my fucking cum, baby? Yeah?" he asked through his grunting and groaning, delivering another slap to the round globe of your already reddened ass cheek as he delivered minute thrusts now, heavy balls slapping against your puffy clit each time he thrust forward. "Yes, please, I want it, I want it so bad Adam!" you begged, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you felt the first tethers of that coil snapping in your belly, your walls clamping down on his cock as he brought his hand around to rub fast circles against your clit.

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt his balls tighten and that urge to let loose everything he'd been holding back for the past two weeks becoming painfully unbearable by the second. "Okay, I'll give it to you," Adam started, releasing your chin and letting your body fall out of the arch as he grabbed onto your hip once more, his other hand still rubbing determined shapes into your overstimulated clit. "But not until you cum for me! 'm not gonna give you my cum until I feel you gush around my fucking cock!" he told you, groaning loudly as he desperately clung to some semblance of control, wanting to feel you quiver and shake one more time before he let himself be swallowed up by the pleasure your sweet pussy offered him.

It only took a couple more thrusts before you were doing exactly what Adam was telling you, walls constricting around his hardened length almost painfully and your vision going white, a searing pleasure ripping through your being as your essence dripped down your thighs and his, shaking violently as you struggled to hold yourself up. Adam praised you, talking you through your high as his pace quickened even more, chasing that high, determined to deliver on his earlier promise. "Oh fuck, that's it, take my fucking cum! Take it baby, take it, take it!" he beckoned, his grunts growing higher in pitch as his own release barreled towards him at an unbelievable speed.

With one final thrust, Adam was pushed over the edge and he emptied his load into your quivering hole, lurching forward to catch himself on the arm of the couch and not crush you beneath his substantially larger form, his abs clenching beneath the thin layer of fat with each pulse of his hot seed into your welcoming cunt.

Back pressed against his heaving chest, you reached behind yourself once you found your strength again and tangled your fingers in the damp mess of hair atop his head. Craning your neck, you tried to pull him close enough to place tender kisses to his face, but the angle he had you in was too deep for you to get much further that his bicep when he wrapped his arm around your upper torso. With a groan, Adam eventually pulled you up against his chest and plopped back, his half hard cock still seated deep within your pussy as he tried to catch his breath, littering your shoulders and back with tender kisses of affection.

"Fuck... what time did you say you had to be back by?" Adam asked suddenly after several moments of content silence, reaching for his phone that had fallen haphazardly from his back pocket when he pushed his pants down.

Swallowing hard, your throat felt dry as you tried to gather your senses enough to answer his question, glancing over at the digital face of his phone as the time flashed brightly for you to see. If you hadn't just had the most mind-blowing sex of your life, you might have been a little bit concerned by how late your "lunch" was running. "I was supposed to be back thirty-seven minutes ago," you rasped, to which Adam chuckled as he tossed his phone onto the nearby coffee table. He wrapped both arms around your waist, holding you close and refusing to remove himself from your core, remembering the deal that had brought you two in the first place.

"Well, shit. Didn't mean to keep you from your work," he said, his tone apologetic as he nipped at the discolored flesh of your neck where he had sucked hickies into your otherwise flawless skin. A light laugh tumbled from your throat as you craned your neck once again, this time pulling him forward just slightly so that you could place a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his lips, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp and eliciting a low moan from him at the pleasure.

"It's okay. I have sick leave. I'll call them and say I got food poisoning, or something," you rasped, coughing slightly at the pain in the back of your throat. Reassured by your quick thinking, Adam smiled into the kiss before he unwrapped his arms from around your body, lifting you by your hips until his spent cock was pulled from the warmth of your core, moving you off of him entirely a second later so that he could get you a cup of water. Standing up, Adam reached down to pull his pants up, stuffing himself back inside his boxers as he walked to the nearby kitchen and letting you sink back into the cushions of his couch comfortably.

"And what about the contract?" Adam called from the kitchen, to which you hummed, sleep closing in fast with how spent your body was. "What if you wind up pregnant before the contract goes into effect?" he asked once he returned, offering a plastic blue cup filled to the brim with water to you. Thanking him with a nod, you didn't hesitate in taking the cup from him, swallowing several large gulps before you offered it back to him. Adam finished off what was left before he moved you forward to squeeze himself behind you once again, tracing lightly his fingers over the sweaty skin of your face and through your hair.

...

"... We lie?"

story ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ header ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ dividers ┊ ◜ kodaswrld ✧ fanguro ◞ summoning ┊ ◜ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @minkdelovely ✧ @sugoi-writes ✧ @fraugwinska ✧ @macabr3-barbi3 ◞

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year ago

Text

two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.

His name.

His looks.

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two.

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity."

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of—

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter.

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background."

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this!

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.

You sigh, rubbing your temples.

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"

You abruptly fall silent.

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply.

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS."

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today."

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will."

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh?

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that."

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!

You give his arm a light pat.

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff."

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?"

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—"

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell.

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—"

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed.

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–"

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head."

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.

You nod slowly.

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..."

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you."

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you.

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place."

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?"

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.

Perhaps not.

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those."

"Mind telling me those new reasons?"

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you."

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?"

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh?

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you."

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right?

Right?

"Wrong."

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?"

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.”

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin.

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest."

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you."

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what???

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh.

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—

Oh, sour heavens above.

That's a different story altogether.

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

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detectivestucks · 1 month ago

Text

Akatsuki Concubine I

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Tobi x F!Reader x Konan

Summery: Coming from a poor background you were sold to the pleasure house at a young age even though your dream was to one day be a shinobi. Instead, as you grew up, your mistress got tired of your attitude and sold you to the first duo who asked. These two were none other than members of the formidable Akatsuki.

Warnings: NSFW, DubCon, Female receiving oral, threats of violence,

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is an AU where all the Akatsuki members are alive and together. New mini-series. More parts coming soon.

Sold to the pleasure house at a young age, you were familiar with a life whose path is set for them. You knew you were to serve noble men and their kinks before being sold and married off to the highest bidder. Only you weren’t one to be touched against your will. You had always wanted to become a ninja but you weren’t born into a shinobi family. You were born into a poor family who couldn’t afford to keep their only child. So you read and you practiced, all by yourself. Every day, from the time you were young till now, you centered your chakra, allowing it to flow from point to point. Feeling its life-giving strength fuel your power. You developed what you read was an unusual combination of Fire and Water style jutsus. Your favorite one to use was phoenix flower jutsu. The balls of fire dancing in the space between you and the latest toolbag who tried to touch what he didn’t pay for always made you feel protected. Little did you know it couldn’t protect you from everyone.

Back at the Akatsuki hideout, the crew was getting rowdier than ever. Constant missions had kept everyone apart for months but the burnout was obvious so their leader, Tobi, assigned missions closer to home. The issue is that a band of ruthless shinobi such as the Akatsuki don’t do well within close quarters.

“Give back my detonating clay!”

“Nice try blondie. I know you were in my room trying to steal Samehada last night. She told me so.”

“Was not!”

“As if I believe you. Maybe I’ll feed this to Samehada, see if she’s as good of an ‘artist’ as you.”

“Wait! I need that for my art!”

“Psh, you speak of art as if it’s your god. Come to the way of Joshin and you’ll never worry about your silly art again.”

“SHUT IT Hidan!”

“Or what?! Wanna become Joshin’s next sacrifice!”

The purple-haired man swings his scythe at the young artist when the tall shark-like swordsman snatches up the boy by his long blonde strands.

“Hey! Let go or I’ll-”

“-What, kill me?”

“All three of you need to shut up! When’s our next mission so I don’t have to suffer you idiots?”

“Sasuke, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say to your brethren.”

“Not now, older brother.” he retorts with a pinch to his nose. Soon a half white, half black figure pops into the room.

“Can someone tell me what it’s like to poo?”

“Ah, gross Zetzu! Why’d ya have to bring that up again?!”

“Well, when someone answers the question, maybe I’ll stop.”

“ENOUGH!”

The voice was deep and commanding. An orange-masked man rounds the corner in his scarlet clouded cloak and all members fall silent.

“You are shinobi of an elite organization. Act like it.”

The man named Tobi strides through the room catching Pain on his way out.

“Pain, Konan, come.”

A tall orange haired man with a face littered in piercings and a slender woman with a paper flower in her hair follow behind into a spare room.

“These idiots are always bickering.” Tobi’s baritone states with exhaustion.

“They’re bored sir.”

“I give them respite and they thank me by acting like a bunch of children.”

“Maybe they need something to do…or a way to blow off steam.” Konan defends

“They should be training.” Pain says with a firm nod.

“...or…uh, I…nevermind.”

“Out with it woman.” Tobi’s words spit out like venom.

“Maybe they have…urges…to release?”

“Oh they do, do they?” Tobi presses “Are you speaking from experience?”

With flushed cheeks Konan’s lashes fall.

“That’s what I thought.” Tobi looks towards Pain, “You’re dismissed.”

Both shinobi turn to leave when the deep voice speaks up again, “Where are you going?”

A slender hand raises to tuck lavender strands behind one ear. “You said we were dismissed.”

“No, I said he was dismissed. You haven’t finished serving your purpose.”

With a thick swallow, Konan stands up straight and turns back towards Tobi. “What do you need?”

With each word he steps forward.“Tell me more about these urges? How do you suggest we satisfy them?”

With one more swallow, Konan finds her composure “I would suggest concubines sir.”

“Concubines, eh?”

“Yes, I believe there are several pleasure houses in the nearby village.”

“Good, I want you to check them out.”

“Check them out?”

“Yes, find some pretty merchandise for your comrades.”

“Don’t you think you should vet them first? You’ve been so picky with who you’ve let into this organization and these girls will be privy to our secrets.”

Tobi muses to himself before agreeing. “We’ll do reconnaissance tomorrow.”

You finish your supper as your lady enters the room. “House is busy tonight. You’re taking the next caller.”

“I’m not putting up with any funny business.”

“Try to be desirable for a change. And stop scaring away the customers.”

“They’re dreadful and disgusting.”

“And pay well”

You scoff at her. “I’ll be in my room.”

“You scare off one more customer and I’m selling you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” you call over your shoulder as you walk to your room in a huff. You wish to slam the door as hard as possible but she was right, you could hear your sisters all working. The sounds of men groaning come from every corner of the house and it would be unwise to create a ruckus on such a bustling evening.

You sit at your looking glass and brush out your hair. You allow it to fall down your back and tickle your neck before you lean forward to apply a small dusting of blush and smear rice water cream over your lips to soften them. Just as you finish, you hear your door begin to open. You look up to a stout man entering your room and raking in your appearance with obvious hunger. You felt your stomach tighten at the thought of entertaining him but you plastered on a sweet simper and move to sit on the mattress, patting the place next to you.

Meanwhile downstairs Konan approaches your misses.

“Excuse me ma’am. Would you happen to be selling any of your girls?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I am.” Tobi’s tenor voice crashes over the lady as her mouth falls open in fear upon seeing the masked man with the glowing red eye. She realizes her state and quickly closes her mouth while wiping her hands on the front of her dress. “No, I am not selling any of my girls.”

Across the home you hear a man shouting in terror “FIRE! FIRE! HELP THERE’S A FIRE”

“...Except for that one.” she finishes with rage.

Tobi and Konan immediately head towards the shouting to check on the source of the commotion. Upon entering the room they see a beautiful young woman with hair fallen around her face and a disheveled kimono open in the front, exposing both breasts and her pelvis.

“Oh relax” you say, weaving hand signs for your water style cannon to extinguish your phoenix flowers. “Now go, and don’t come back. We don’t need your type around here.”

“Yes we do!” your mistress chimes in, pushing Tobi and Konan to the side to scold you for your behavior.

“No we don’t! He’s a pig! And who the hell are they?!” you say gesturing towards the cloaked shinobi.

“Your next customer”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well that’s too bad cause they intend on purchasing your worthless hide.”

“Like hell they’ll take me.”

You weave the tiger sign to once more scare away these newcomers with your phoenix flower flames only to be met with a ginormous fireball to the face. Quickly you switch your jutsu to water style to combat the masked stranger when he voluntarily stops.

Your hair falls in your suddenly sweaty face as you gauge the man before you.

“My, my. Aren’t we a feisty one? And a user of ninjutsu as well. That’s a first.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Well too bad for you because I am. Konan, give the lady the money.”

“Good, take this ungrateful slut off my hands. Maybe you can knock some sense into her. I don’t need my house set ablaze every other day. I’m done.”

You feel your chest constrict with anger and sadness. To be cast aside, demoted to the value of a coin, yet again, and be forced to go to a new home once more. What’s more, is your tricks won't work on this one. He can out master your flames. You give a panicked look to the one with a paper flower atop her head before your teary eyes stare up into the dark hole of the orange mask.

A gloved hand glides up and cups the bottom of your chin, “Don’t get soft on me now kitten. I enjoy the spark.”

You rip your face away from his hand but he grabs you by the arm. “Konan, test her out for me, please. If you like her we’ll keep her, if you don’t we’ll kill her.”

The sadness in your heart quickly spins to fear as you realize how dangerous your new owner must be.

“But sir-”

“You said you had pent up urges.”

“I-”

“What? Were you going to ride the face of that Pain puppet? That seems a bit chilly, don’t you think? Why not try someone with a little more body heat?”

The pain and insult were obvious on Konan's face but she did as she was told and approached you.

With cold and hooded eyes she demands, “Knees.”

You swallow, remembering his words. There was no way out of this one. You were going to have to do what you were trained for and earn your keep…along with your life.

‘You’re the whore; you know what to do”

Your hands rifle past the noir cloak and find the ties of her pants. You pull the skin tight spandex down past her knees and gently lift her leg to tenderly slide the fabric over her ankle and off her foot.

The pants now removed, your hands hold open the front of her cloak similar to your open kimono. You lift yourself off the heels of your feet and bring your mouth to the front of her cotton panties. You kiss her heat over the cloth before your teeth find the waistband and pull down.

“Good girl.” you hear the masked man purr from the entrance of the room.

One hand slides under the thick bamboo fabric of the scarlet and black cloak to graze over her cheek and sink your fingers into the soft flesh of her behind while your other hand wanders up her pale inner thigh, finding her labia and slipping two fingers up into her slit.

Grip tightening on the muscle of her rear, your fingers thrust in and out, hooking inside her squishy insides, feeling how they tighten around your digits. Once she gasps you pull them out and look up at her face before wrapping your lips around your fingers and sucking them clean. The taste was sweet, almost like a baked treat and your lids flutter slightly before she grabs a large section of your hair and pulls you up to your feet.

“Arms folded behind you and lay down on your back.”

You do as she instructs and find her crawling up on the mattress to straddle your face. Her robes fall over your head and you are plunged into darkness, completely blinded by the cloak.

As her weight pushes against your face, you open your mouth to kitten lick at her entrance made wet by your foreplay.

Just as you open wider to sink your tongue between her lips she reaches back and pinches your nipples earning a cry from you that vibrates against her folds. A satisfied hum can be heard from the place where the masked man stood and you knew he approved.

You jab your tongue out as far as you can and stroke forward inside her heat, slurping up her juices with loud wet sounds. Her hips rut against your face as satisfied signs leave Konan’s chest. You wrap your lips around her little nub at the front of her entrance and rub the tip of your tongue back and forth along the bump.

Her legs close around your head before suddenly releasing. She repositions herself so that she is facing down your body rather than towards the head of the bed and as she sits back down, your nose prods against the crevice between her cheeks.

With better access to her swollen bud you seal the perky tip between your pillowy lips and suck. Her thighs squeeze against your body and she weaves hand signs so that two paper butterflies appear and fold into clips. They flutter towards your nipples and you feel their wings brush against your skin before the clip on their bellies opens and traps your sore nipples between them.

You squirm and whine at the discomfort but really it causes you to clench around nothing. Your legs kick out feeling desperate to get up but your mouth obediently continues to pet her clit.

Konan lifts her hand and brings it down harshly between your legs, slapping your folds and protruding clit.

You scream, the vibrations tickling between her legs causing her to lower more of her weight onto your head. Your legs snap closed. “No you don’t.” she says smooth as butter. Grabbing one of your legs in her arms, she holds your leg against her chest and continues her assault on your folds.

Her rutting against your face as you scream causes the noises to come out muffled and broken which only makes Tobi’s member stiffen in his pants. The spectacle of your squirming beneath his comrade mesmerized him and he knew he wanted you to himself.

You open your mouth wide to drag your tongue all the way from the hood of her clit, along the front of her entrance and point it as it enters her heat where you dance it in and out of her hole causing her to fall forward and rest her weight on the hand pushing into your waist.

The butterfly clips attached to the tips of your breasts tightened the more you please the female ninja, who eventually falls all the way forward and returns the favor, sucking on your own swollen nub till your legs shake with pleasure.

The harder she sucked, the harder you sucked, till you feel her gush on your face and both of you collapse from orgasm. She dismounts, panting from the feeling and nods at her masked counterpart. “This one will do.”

“Well, well, looks like you’re coming with us after all.”

Before you had a moment to realize the meaning of his words you feel yourself being pulled forward and suddenly you are in a dark gray abyss filled with large chunky blocks. You look around realizing it is just you, naked, aside from your small kimono that you pull over your shoulders for comfort. You are standing there alone, all by yourself, with no idea where you are or how you got there.

Masterlist

Coming Soon:

Part 2: The New Master

Part 3: The Uchiha Slut

#obito x reader #obito is daddy #obito smut #obito uchiha #akatsuki fanfiction #akatsuki smut #akatsuki #konan akatsuki #konan smut #girl on girl smut #lesbehonest #tobi simp #tobi fan fiction #tobi smut

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

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♡ ｌｏｖｅｒｂｏｙ♡

Pairing: boyfriend!felix x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend comforts you during a depressive episode.

Genre: fluff/angst-ish

Word Count: 849

Warnings: mention of depression/some dark thoughts & feelings

A/N: Just wanted to write something for anyone out there who might struggle with depression and need some comfort ♡

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...

But it was bound to happen at some point, you think, burying your face in your hands, a puddle of tears forming in your palms. Things have been going so well with Felix, better than they have with any other guy. From day one he’s been your Prince Charming.

Taking you on dates to botanical gardens blooming with flowers you thought could only exist in fairytales. Packing you lunch for work whenever he stays over with cute little notes tucked in the bag to brighten up your day.

Felix is a dream come true for you. You wanted, with everything inside of you, to be the same for him, but all of that’s over now. You’re sure of it. It’s the first night you’ve spent at his apartment, mere days after the two of you became official, and you’re curled up on his bathroom floor crying your heart out at 2 in the morning.

It’s nothing he did. He’s been a sweetheart, as always, cooking you dinner and making sure that you’re comfortable. Still, depression’s found a way to creep up on you, flooding your mind with thoughts that tear at the thin layer of confidence you’ve been pouring all of your energy into maintaining.

The pain is like a ton of bricks in your stomach. An invisible hand around your throat gripping tighter the more you struggle to twist away. The voice in your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough, mocks you for being silly enough to think you could hide this part of you from Felix forever.

He’ll see you, really see you, and he'll hate what he sees.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Felix’s voice breaks through deep and scruffy from having just woken up, somehow remaining soothing in all of its power. Lifting your head up, you wipe your tears on the sleeves of your pajama shirt, positive you look a complete wreck. This is it. The end.

“I don’t…” you stutter, unsure of how to explain yourself, “I’m so sorry.” Based on the confusion that paints his face, you half expect him to back away only for him to do the exact opposite. He’s not running away, he’s grabbing handfuls of tissue, kneeling down beside you to tidy up your runny nose.

“Talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do…” You sniffle, shaking your head, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…fucked up I guess. Too depressed to keep my shit together.” Your head falls again, this time resting on your knees, and you close your eyes, wishing you could start this night over again.

For a brief moment, Felix shuffles around in a direction you can't pinpoint before two arms wrap around your body, hands clasped together where they meet your soft belly. He pulls you against his chest, strands of long hair brushing your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

There’s a sense of safety and connectedness within his arms that you haven’t felt in, well, ever. You're almost ashamed at how intensely his warmth shields you from the cold darkness closing in.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting and that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but it’s…fuck I’m so bad at this.” Rolling your eyes, you reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, “Shut up. You’re not bad at this.” “Are we gonna sit here all night complimenting each other?” he teases, “Because we can. My butt will probably go numb though. I don’t have as much cushion as you. Don’t know what you see in me.”

The faintest giggle on your part has him kissing your neck, bear hugging you. “There’s my girl and that beautiful smile of hers.” “Don’t get used to it” you sigh, “It won’t last.” Felix just shrugs, “Doesn’t have to. I’ll still be here. I don’t care about you under the condition that you’re happy 24/7. You know that, right?”

“I, well, I didn’t know…”

“Well, now you do.”

His palm meets the back of your hand, fingers twining around yours to bring your arm down to your waist. “Let me be here for you. Give me a chance.” Hearing someone say that, hearing him say that, is more terrifying than you expect it to be. Trust is hard, trust is risky…

Felix leans forward to get a good look at you, a glimmer in his still sleepy eyes

…but if there’s anyone worth taking a risk on it’s the freckle faced boy staring back at you.

“Uh…yeah…okay.”

He smiles, “Yeah?”

It’s impossible not to smile back, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Felix loosens his hold on you enough that he has room to lean his head on your back. “Want me to sing to you?” he yawns. You settle comfortably into the arms of your Felix, your safety blanket, letting your eyes fall closed from exhaustion. “Sing what?”

A stretch of silence lingers as he scans his brain for the perfect song to fit the moment.

“Oh! Got it! Fake eyes open…”

“Felix!” you yell, slapping him on the knee.

“What? Bad timing?”

#lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x thick reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 10 months ago

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𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,672

Warnings | +18, bullying, attempted sexual harassment, panic attack

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | I'm back with the second chapter of Happy Ending, I hope you can enjoy it 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

Toward the end of class, some had already turned in their drawings, others had yet to finish, and Jungkook intimated that they should bring them the next time they saw each other. Y/N shakily got up from her seat, sent down too much saliva as she came within a few steps of the boy, who lifted his face in her direction, giving her a warm smile. "Y/N! Are you done?" The girl nodded, unable to verbalize her thoughts, so she placed the drawing on the desk, bending down a bit, this gave Jungkook a chance to get a better peek at how she was dressed that day, drinking in the sight of her legs and imagining how soft and creamy they might be in his adoring hands. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the most unruly strands back, and Y/N froze, following his movements with her eyes.

"Wow, Y/N...great job, as always," he complimented, proud that his good girl had done such a detailed job of depicting the disembodied cloud with shapeless, skeletal hands-that to her was bullying, something no adult could see, but which managed to trap its victims in a spiral of suffering and muteness. The girl blushed at his words, bowing slightly before reaching her seat. Behind her back she sensed a slight snort that caused her to stiffen. Jungkook had to leave the command to another colleague, stared disgruntled at the girl, but vowed to do something for her, or rather, for both of them. He would not let that terrible pattern continue, Y/N deserved better, in his arms he would be able to give her the happiness and love she lacked, as he could clearly see.

And so the day continued, until it was time to return home.

Y/N hurriedly packed her things, the threat of Yoozu loomed over her, and anxiously walked out of the classroom. She didn't greet anyone, and no one greeted her, she looked fearfully at every corner of the corridors, a hustle and bustle of students and teachers did not allow her to increase her pace, she found herself pushing through the crowd almost in desperation, she wanted anything but to be in the jaws of her classmate. Oh, if only she had known... "So, beggar!" someone brutally grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to him right outside the university, Yoozu stared at her with anger concealed behind a fake smile, "We still haven't discussed the slap you so kindly printed on my face," he growled.

Y/N felt herself dying, she tried to wriggle out of her companion's firm grip, but it proved utterly useless, the boy's icy fingers pressed on her tender skin without restraint. "Let go of me! Let go of me, Yoozu!" she exclaimed in panic, her breathing shorter and her heartbeat faster, but he if possible painfully increased his grip on her wrist, painful bruises would appear shortly. "Not so fast, first you have to pay me back for the shit you made me look like today," he hissed, dragging her toward a more secluded alley, Y/N grabbed the mirror of a car parked nearby in a desperate attempt to save herself, but Yoozu was much stronger than she was, "Be good, I'll only need your mouth, then I'll let you go for today." Those words were the straw, the girl began to scream and call for help, Yoozu immediately plugged her mouth but it was too late. Someone had heard her, and that someone was smoking with rage.

"What the hell is going on here?" The quiet but unusually dangerous voice made the boy pale, and he suddenly let go of his grip on the girl. Y/N fell to the ground with momentum, right at the feet of someone she knew. She lifted her gaze and caught the icy expression on Jungkook's handsome face; she also seemed to catch a glimpse of murderous fury in his irises, but in fact she could not be one hundred percent certain. "I... nothing, I just wanted to apologize to Y/N for today," Yoozu dared to say, but Jungkook did not buy that pathetic excuse. "Is that so? It would seem anything but to me." Jungkook had seen the whole scene, had even managed to hear those vulgar words that had screwed up his self-control. "Professor, it really went like this! But Y/N didn't understand, she thought that-" a sob interrupted his absurd explanations, Jungkook's heart clenched, as did his eyes. "Kang Yoozu, you are expelled." "Wait, what! You can't do that! You are not the principal, and on the basis of what then?!" Yoozu panicked, Jungkook found it disgusting. "I'm not the principal, but I'm on good terms with him, as for the motivation...how does attempted rape sound to you?" he asked wryly, making the boy gasp. No, with such a charge no other university would have accepted him and his parents would have sent him to some godforsaken place in shame. "Professor, can we talk about this? Please, this will ruin my life," he prayed agitatedly, admitting his real intentions that way. "The more I listen to you, the more I want to ruin something else too! Get out of my sight, Kang!" he shouted furiously, Yoozu at first seemed not to understand, then casting a glance at Y/N's kneeling figure he took a step back and began to run.

Jungkook inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself somehow, he couldn't believe what had happened before his own eyes, he turned to the girl and felt only immense pain, she was on her knees on the icy asphalt wet with rain, she kept holding her head in her hands, trying to stifle her sobs. He lowered himself in her direction, god, she was beautiful even with her face overflowing with tears. He brought two fingers under her chin, gently forcing her to lift her face to his, chaining their eyes together. "Hey, Y/N..." he gently blew on her, gathering the tears that ran down her full cheeks with his thumbs, "Are you okay?"

If possible, Y/N exploded into more sobs, throwing herself on her professor. She pushed into his chest seeking comfort, Jungkook was frozen for a moment, he did not expect such a reaction from the girl, his heartstrings tugged filling with warmth, he returned the embrace immediately, holding that tender body to him. "It will never end," she cried into his neck, breathing hard between sobs and bathing the boy's skin with warm salt water, "It will always be like this." Jungkook stroked her hair, imprinting the sweet scent of her on his mind, mentally whispering to her that no, it would not be like this anymore, that he would protect her. "No, Y/N... I'll talk to the principal, they won't hurt you anymore, trust me," he said instead continuing to gently caress her back, having her like this was like a dream just realized, he didn't even know how long he had wanted it, "Can you trust me, Y/N?" He moved her face away from his chest, seeking a clear answer from her, he wanted to be sure she wanted his help. Y/N let a trembling sigh escape, nodding. Jungkook's eyes were so sincere and crystal clear that it was natural for her to trust him, although her body still trembled at the mere thought of what Yoozu wanted to do to her. "Yes, I can," she murmured, Jungkook felt the need to kiss her just then, she was so polite and tender his little girl, who knows if she would have said the same begging him to give her more.

"I'll drive you home, Y/N, I have my car right next door, okay?" the young woman nodded without thinking much about it, her mind still too shocked by recent events to really think. Jungkook helped her up, escorting her to his car as if she had been a little doll in his hands. They both climbed into the vehicle and Jungkook got directions to find their way, cast a glance at the younger woman's legs, his hand itching to touch them, but he forced himself not to go too far for the moment. Rather, he focused on the magnificent smell of his favorite student, but the closer he got to his destination, the more he found himself turning up his nose. He didn't like that neighborhood; it was one of the most dangerous in the fucking city. Every day on the news there were reports of robberies, or worse. He cast a sidelong glance at the girl, wondering how she had survived in that place so far. Knowing her in that bad place upset him in no small part, and when they reached the apartment building Jungkook's gaze grew hard-they could all get to those windows, they were pretty old, too.

"Well, I live here, professor! Thank you for the ride and... for the help," she found herself saying impishly, Jungkook melted into yet another smile that day, the real and sincere ones were all for her, she just didn't know it yet. "Just ask, Y/N...and I'll be here for you," he said earnestly, the girl nodded, unable to respond and opened the door to get out of the car, gave one last wave and then ran inside. Leaving behind the eager gaze of her teacher. She closed the door to her apartment behind her back, a deep warm throbbing did not hint at leaving her anytime soon.

Jungkook's presence was all she could think about, she let herself slide against the surface of the door, in her mind were imprinted images of the man holding the steering wheel firmly in his strong hands, his muscular arms still uncovered and damp with rain, seemed strong enough to carry her without any effort at all, not to mention how he had defended her without too much trouble, quietly defying the economic power of Yoozu's parents, she clutched her legs to her chest, hiding her red face between them. Damn, she was really in love.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #bts fanfic #yandere

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hikakuriyyu · 2 months ago

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Tension. (part 4)

⁎ warnings: romantic slasher ? mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of AND !murder!, manipulation, kissing, female!reader.

⁎ summary: you fell for him. hard. the murders started, and you knew it was him. billy lured you into his dark and twisted intentions. it was so wrong. but it doesn't feel wrong... there was something stopping you. or someone.

⁎ author note: i hope your guys been enjoying the last few parts cuz thinking of a plot is pretty hard 😭. and its my birthday :D so nice, lol. here you go nena :).

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once. Billy was already outside, waiting for you, the clock ticking faster with every second. You knew what he expected, what he needed you to do to prove you were really in this with him. But killing Dewey? It wasn’t supposed to come to this. You didn't wanna do this.

You swallowed hard, staring at your ghostface costume lying on the bed, the mask staring right back at you. This was it. You knew that if you backed out now, Billy would never look at you the same. This was the moment. You had to show him you were serious. That you loved him.

With shaky hands, you grabbed the costume and slipped it on, the mask feeling heavier than it ever had before. Every step you took downstairs felt like the floor might cave in beneath you, but you kept going, gripping the knife tightly in your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest, but all you could think about was Billy.

This was for him. You were doing this for him.

You hide in a closet and wait for the right moment to come. ''You can do this...'' you thought to yourself. You were so nervous for the first time, maybe you still had sympathy in your heart. You hear a few footsteps coming and prepare yourself. The footsteps inch closer towards the closet. At the right moment you jump out and stab Dewey's neck, hoping that would kill him instantly. Dewey placed his hand on his neck, trying to stop it from bleeding out. You watched the scene unfold, instantly regretting what you had done. Dewey lets out a few chokes before he takes his last breath, body going rigid. You stayed there and looked at his lifeless body. He didn't deserve this...

You snapped yourself out of it and quickly ran to a near window and climbed out before anyone could see you. You ran to the fountain where Billy wanted to meet, hoping he'd be waiting for you there. You see his distressed face, thinking you maybe had gotten caught. He notices you and quickly walks up to you. ''Did you do it ? Is he dead ?'' he asked you eagerly. You look around, making sure no one was in sight before taking of the mask, nodding at his question. ''Yeah...'' you say with obvious guilt on your face. Billy cups your face and presses a soft kiss on your lips. ''Hey... don't worry. You did the right thing. If you didn't kill him we would've been caught by now. But we're free. Together.'' he says softly, brushing a few strands of hair out your face. You relax under his touch right away, thinking about it from a postive perspective. He's right. If you got caught, you wouldn't be able to be with Billy anymore. You couldn't bear separation.

You smile at his words softly before nodding. ''Yeah. I guess you're right.'' you say before looking at the ground. ''What now ?'' you ask, thinking about what's about to happen next. Billy smiled, taking your hand. ''Let's run away together. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.'' he said as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Were you dreaming ? ''Oh my God...'' you exclaimed, not taking your eyes off him. ''Let's go.'' he said as started walking, still hand-in-hand with you. This is the best and worst day of your life.

He walks you to his house, since he lived alone. You walk into Billy’s dimly lit home, the atmosphere heavy with a mix of fear, excitement and uncertainty. The house is eerily silent, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Billy locks the door behind you, his movements calm and collected, while you stand in the living room, fidgeting, unsure of what comes next.

Billy leans on the wall, crossing his arms, watching you closely. He could tell you were a little on edge. ''Relax. We're safe here.'' his voice is smooth, confident, as if the events of the night didn’t affect him at all. He pushes off the wall and walks over to you. You look at him, the guilt evident in your voice and body language. ''I actually killed Dewey... he didn't deserve it. He was so sweet. I took his life away.'' you say as you take off the ghostface costume, setting it down somewhere before you take a seat on his couch. His eyes narrowed as he followed you, sitting down next to you.

Billy smirks softly before putting his hand on your thigh. "And you did it for us. That’s what matters." He scoots closer, his tone shifting to something softer, almost affectionate. "Don’t you see it now ? You’re free. Free from all those people holding you back." he added. you nod slightly, still unsure, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Part of you is relieved to be with Billy, but the weight of your actions lingers in the back of you mind. You look away hesitantly. "Why did it have to be him, though ?'' you say, your voice breaking slightly.

Billy grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, his expression darkening. "Deserve ? None of them deserve anything. They were all just in the way. You need to understand that. They were part of the game. Just like Sidney." his voice is low, almost a growl, but then his grip softens, his tone changing to something gentler, more... manipulative. "But now, there’s no one left to tear us apart. You and me… we can start over. Together."

Billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You can feel the warmth of his body, the intensity in his touch, and despite the chaos inside you, you find yourrself melting into his embrace. There’s a strange comfort in his possessiveness, in the way he makes you feel like the center of his world. You lay your head on his shoulder softly. "And what now ? What do we do next ?" Billy smiles, stroking your hair as if soothing a child. "Now ? We disappear. We leave Woodsboro behind and go somewhere no one can find us. Just you and me. Doesn’t that sound perfect ?" he said.

There’s a pause, the idea of running away together sounding both thrilling and terrifying. You know what they’ve done can’t be undone, and there’s no turning back. But there’s still a nagging doubt, a hint of hesitation. "And what about... everything we’ve done ? What if they find us ?" you ask him. Billy pulls back slightly, looking down at you with that same smirk. "They won’t. We’ll be ghosts. And even if they do... we’ve come this far, haven’t we ? You trust me, don’t you ?"

His gaze locks onto yours, challenging you, daring you to question him. You hesitates but then nods, feeling the intensity of his control over her. Your trapped, but willingly so, tangled in your obsession with him. "I do. I trust you."

Billy leans in, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips. It’s not just affection—it’s a claim, a reminder that he owns you now.

To Be Continued...

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haruhey · 11 months ago

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Wish I Never Met You

check out my masterlist!

Word count: 4k

Fluff | Angst | Thank you @weretheones and @normanplusdaryl for betaing <3

You’re part of Daryl’s past, but you could also be his future.

A bad day leads the two of you to each other.

Whoever said it’s better to love and lose Never loved and lost you

Daryl barely made it through sophomore year.

In all honesty, he was impressed he even got to junior year. When Merle left at the tail end of spring, he - in all of his younger brother naïveté - thought he would come back before the semester ended, taking him from the dump they called a house and from that asshole they had the unfortunate pleasure of calling their old man.

But July came and went, then August, and by the time the new school year rolled around, Daryl stopped waiting for him - just shouldered his backpack and went to school because where the fuck else was he supposed to go?

He gave the whole school thing two weeks. It was enough time to mark off attendance - to lay low before he traded his backpack for his crossbow and started hunting for that weird butcher shop three blocks down to make some money - and he had intended on following it.

Intended, being the right word, because the plan went to shit the second Mr. American History started pairing people up for those dumb, mandatory, biweekly collaborative projects.

Intended, because it just had to be you he was paired with, didn't it? His stupid classroom crush he tried so hard to stop thinking about?

He remembers seeing you for the first time in some math class in sophomore year, and he’d, in his hormone-ruled, bored-out-of-his-mind teenage brain, spent the better half of the period just looking at you. He never worked up the courage to say anything about it to anyone, but you were the prettiest thing he’d seen in his 16 years on Earth, and he hated the way you made his hands all clammy.

Even years later, he looks back on the months he spent being your friend, and he still feels that crushingly familiar clench of his chest.

Maybe it wormed its way almost permanently into him those weeks he first sat next to you in American History. It was a compulory course and both you and he hated it. The teacher - Durand, but Daryl took to calling him Dickhead and Deranged just to see which would make you roll your eyes the hardest - was a notorious douchebag, round glasses over a nose that was entirely too big to stay on his face and three strands of gray hair that seemed to be holding onto his head by spite alone.

He never seemed to take Daryl seriously, even though Daryl knew more than double the amount of history you did. You could pick his brain for hours about the pirates and the Sumerians and the Cherokee and their legends, and he’d let you, despite the glare that marked over his face for anyone else.

In exchange, you let him pick your brain, too. Over the piece of apple pie the two of you would share on the rare occasion you’d both scraped together enough to figure it would be worth buying, he asked about your future. He tried picturing himself with you through it all despite knowing there was nothing for him outside of this shithole town, and he listened to you talk.

He could listen to you talk for hours.

You had big dreams, considering you came from the same place he did, but he had faith you could do it. He knew you could, and even looped his pinky with yours, your thumb pressed up against his while he promised to make it to graduation. He had to watch you toss your cap and flip the bird at 4 years of hell, didn’t he?

But then winter came, and with the Christmas break rounding the corner, Merle came back too, peeling into the dirt road in front of the Dixon dump and taking Daryl along with him. You remember coming back when the second semester started, the same room that had once been used for History now a Government class, and you had hoped to suffer through it together.

You made it through one school week until you’d started asking around.

Nobody got themselves involved with the Dixons - with their surly tempers and their permanent scowls, but you’d gotten into the habit of ignoring those words when you were with Daryl - so when no answers turned up, you weren’t really surprised.

You figured he must have finally gotten his out from his old man.

It was only at graduation that you’d found out what happened to him, overhearing one of the principals talking about how both of Will Dixon’s sons had run away from home and how he’d drunkenly bragged about finally beating sense into them, and, though you knew it was selfish, as the ceremony ticked on, you still hoped Daryl would come back in time to watch your cap toss.

He never did.

When he finally did come back to Georgia, it was a little over a full year later. The old lady that ran the diner the two of you hung around after school had told him that you got a scholarship offer in May - some bigshot school out west - and that you’d packed your bags and left in August.

You weren’t set to come back until the year ended in April, and he wasn’t planning on staying.

He wasn’t planning on making staying anywhere a habit, and, in the blink of an eye, twenty years passed.

A second blink and the world fell.

Everything changed so quickly that it truly did feel like an instant as minuscule as a blink - the dinosaurs had the meteor, and life before them had the ice age - and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a breath before a new age flooded in.

It seems like everything he thought about was about the future. Some of it he would have considered trivial before - when the next meal would come, when the next time he’s going to fill his canteen is and where the next source of freshwater is - but, in this blip of time, he hesitates to call it that.

Sometimes, when he went out on his bike or shouldered his crossbow and slipped his knives into his holsters, he thought about how Li’l Asskicker and Carl would grow up - how they would never really get to be kids in the same way Rick probably wanted them to be - and almost nothing he did felt trivial anymore.

It scared him, he guesses - how much he cared about those kids and how much everyone else did, too.

He wished someone cared about him like that when he was younger.

It was good, though, this pressure. Daryl was never really one to half-ass anything in the first place, but with the intake of Woodbury and the Council’s decision to start bringing people in, there was a new drive to care. It rippled through the prison, and he liked it, being a part of something bigger than himself.

He felt like someone new.

Someone that mattered - that did good - instead of being some asshole with a bigger asshole for a brother.

At least, he did until he saw you.

Two weeks after taking in the people of Woodbury - with one week spent out recruiting and another spent in the infirmary because they’d met some less than friendly people who definitely did not fit the recruitment criteria - he saw you from around the corner, an all too familiar face helping Carol with meal prep in the courtyard.

He didn’t eat lunch that day, and to say he avoided you was an understatement.

There was something about you that brought back feelings he would have rather left in the past. You reminded him of when he was a teenager, stuck in his shitty hometown with his piece of shit old man and no way out. But at the same time, you reminded him of those nights spent down at the creek, skipping stones and staring at the stars, that comforting lack of second-guessing because he knew he was, for the first time in his life, in the company of someone who actually wanted to spend time with him.

You reminded him of that diner with the warm apple pie, and he never could forget the first time his heart ever beat against his ribs like it was too big for his chest.

But, most of all, you reminded him of first love and his broken promise - of a future he could never have had.

Daryl hated it, being confronted with his past like that.

So yeah, maybe he did revert back to his old ways of hiding and just trying not to think about his problems, and yeah, maybe he did take one too many runs back to back so he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to look for you despite simultaneously being scared shitless at the thought of talking to you, but it was successful in staying away from you, and that’s all he cared about.

Or, well, he thought it was.

Because, though it’s been nearly two decades since you’d thought about high school - with it long since becoming college, and college into adulthood - it’s crossed your mind more than you’d liked to admit lately. It’s an odd feeling, an ill-fitting nostalgia creeping through the holes of your blanket-covered cell bars, but it was oddly comforting. You never thought you’d ever think of that place as comforting, but maybe it wasn’t high school that you found yourself chasing in the dead of night.

It was him.

Daryl never really knew how popular he was - here, and back then, when those minutes before and after gym class divulged into shushed remarks about his looks and half-serious confessions of crushes muttered to the secrecy of the changeroom’s four walls - but you did. You were always on the other side of it, silent in your agreement.

Woodbury - or, well, ex-Woodbury - was no different.

He’s a far cry from that scrawny little kid you split your lunch with all those years ago, but there's still the linger of boyish handsomeness to him that made your cheeks heat when you thought about him too long. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, but that subdued, ultraviolet warmth you’d grown familiar with was gone from his eyes.

He’s not seventeen anymore, flipping his uncut hair from his face as he taught you how to skip stones and catch fireflies, but you wanted to talk to him all the same. There’s not much left from the old world - let alone much that you could have considered good, or wanted to remember - but he’s one of the few things you’d cared enough about to keep safe from the pulling tide that faded your memories.

He made that shitty town more bearable, even if it was for those few months. Gritting your teeth and enduring had become tiring until he’d grimaced at that first History Inquiry project and made you laugh with the annoyed upturn of his lip.

You’d planned on thanking him at graduation, but he’d left months before then.

You’d planned on a lot of things to be frank, but there’s no reason to linger in the past when now is a shell of what then was.

There’s even less of a reason when now feels heavier than then ever was.

Today would have marked ten days without incident, a first foray into the monumental double digits until the sun had set behind the return of the run crew’s RV and Beth was forced to flip the number back to zero.

It’s been four hours since they came back - a quarter of the group gone from the unfriendlies they’d met, another dealing with the aftermaths of the encounter and one more made up from those the crew’s recruited - and it’s the first time in those four hours that you’ve left the dingy wing of the infirmary.

You didn’t hate it in there. Far from it, actually, with Hershel and the others being half-decent company and seeing the work you did benefiting people, but the infirmary, especially on days when the crews rounded back, meant the stinging smell of blood and death lingered no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It stuck to every crevice on your body, and it permeated. Guilted you for not trying hard enough and not knowing enough.

On days like this, everywhere you went seemed too small and too unforgiving, and you’re not sure if you can stand tossing and turning in your bunk. The night sky is a friendlier sight than your ceiling, and the view from the abandoned watchtower is a hell of a lot better than the tiny, barred-up window at the corner of your cell.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe sleep will steal you for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. At least enough to make it through the next day.

You have faith it will - you can already feel the first wave of exhaustion pull at your bones.

Taking a breath, you press your hands into your pockets after pushing the door to the Prison open and slipping out. Autumn is beginning to seep through the cracks of summer and the nights are starting to get colder, but your jacket should be enough until you climb up and find sanctuary in the sleeping bag you’d left there three days ago.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door - if you jig the knob to the right before twisting and skip the third step from the top, the trek upwards is close to silent - but when you open it, the creak yields, at first, an expletive before the annoyed voice tears through the quiet.

“I already told ya I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout-”

The volume of him makes you take a step back, the sound of a man making your body lock up for just a second before you recognize the mess of hair atop his head and the wings stitched on the back of his vest, and you make quick work getting to him, crossing the platform in a single stride.

“Daryl?”

And he’s quick to realize the person speaking to him isn’t Carol like he’d thought. Though he really really really hopes it’s not you, the familiarity of your voice leaves little room for speculation, even before he turns his head and - for the first time in a long time - really, really looks at you.

“Oh.”

His heart beats in his ears and locks his throat before he can muster up anything else to say, and for a second, you wonder if you should introduce yourself to him.

“Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expectin’ no one to be here.”

But the knowing upturn of his eyebrows - his apology, and the way he scoots himself over to make room for you the same way he did in those library reading nooks - tells you you don’t need to, and your shoes slide against the concrete as you drop down to a sit.

He remembers you, too, the sweat of his hands too obvious with the fact, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He wishes there wasn’t a familiarity in the way you sidle your body against his, swinging your legs underneath the railing and over the balcony, and he wishes he couldn’t feel the heat coming off of you.

He wishes it didn’t wrap him up like the warm rays of sun, and he fights down a smile at the fact that you always were so bright. He wishes he didn’t remember you like that - glossed over in a blinding, yellow hue.

Daryl wishes he never remembered you like sunshine - he wishes he didn’t still.

Picking up the glass next to him - just to occupy himself and bide the time until his nervousness hopefully washes away into general apathy - he takes a sip before setting it down and taking a pull of the cigarette in his other hand.

The smoke is slow to fill his lungs, but he welcomes it anyways, holding it there as the nicotine-drawn buzz settles in his brain, and then he breathes it out, angling his head up and away from you.

You never liked it, the Malboros he’d swiped from his old man that he’d keep tucked in the smallest pocket of his worn-down backpack, but you’d told him one night, not unlike the one you’re both trying to find solace in right now, that you were scared of what his father might do if he found out.

Then you slipped in the obviousness of his health, just to break the tension of vulnerability, but it hit Daryl like a truck, the fact that he’d never had someone think about him like that before - like they actually cared.

“Heard your brain cells can rot if you do that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you only to be met with a small smile playing at your lips and the slightest bit of a sparkle in your eye, and the taste still lingering on his tongue reminds him of what he’s been doing. The glass is half full with the room-temperature whiskey he’d tried to make himself feel better with after stitching up his own wounds, and there’s ash from his smoking gathered beside one of the railing's poles, and despite the knowing you’re probably right, he sighs, waving your concern away.

“Ain’t worried. Don’t got a lotta them anyways.”

The cigarette between his fingers is lit still, and he takes another drag before the grayed end of it crumbles to the floor, fighting the upward tug of his cheeks at the sound of your amused huff and your quick response.

“That’s why you gotta take care of the ones you still have, Daryl.”

Scoffing, he tilts the edge of the glass towards you, holding it out for you until you take it from him, and he tries not to think about how the tips of his fingers burn when they brush up against yours. It’s not as sweet, the innocence of a teenage crush long since faded into the dull pang of expired love and loss, but it rushes through him all the same.

He would have offered you a cigarette, too, but you’ve never been one to pick up habits that bad.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you then, the sky offering a serenity the two of you are less than strangers to, and you wince from the liquor when you finally take a sip. It’s nothing like the moonshine he’d smuggled from his dad’s stash - it went down a hell of a lot smoother than you remember that shit going - but your tolerance has taken a nosedive since weekends unwinding and inter-departmental parties had ended.

Besides, the only places you could get alcohol back in Woodbury were way above your paygrade.

Placing the cup back onto the concrete, you steal a glance at Daryl, spending just a second studying the curve of his nose and the jut of his cheekbone. He’s more handsome than he’s ever been, and you can feel the heat rush up your neck before you blink away the thought.

Get a hold of yourself.

But you can’t, not when he’s so close, and you’re not sure if it’s wholly unselfish, what makes you drop your eyes down from his face, but you do, and you realize why he was so on edge when he heard the door open.

He’s fidgeting. Ever since he put out his cigarette, he’s restless and can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands in the same way he was when you’d asked him why he never wanted to go home back in the school library, and it sends you back, too, a familiar pit growing in your stomach. It’s like he’s that kid again, scared of telling you - or, well, people - things that hurt because his stupid brother and dad drilled into him that he’s less of a man for even feeling hurt in the first place, and it’s equal parts infuriating and concerning.

You can tell that the gears are turning in your head as you try to piece him together; a run crew came back just today, and you haven't seen him in a little while. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection - especially with everyone’s propensity to talk about how Daryl brought them in - and though you might regret it, you decide to pry.

Not pry, just ask.

Conversation used to flow so easily between the two of you. Were you naïve to hope it would again?

“Bad day?”

It’s small, your voice, teetering in the air with its uncertainty, but Daryl doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he glances down at the space between you, wrapping his fingers around the highball before meeting your gaze, and he bites the inside of his cheek, weighing the option of telling you or not.

“Jus’ tired is all.”

And though he hesitates those first few words, your eyes are so kind - so genuinely caring - that he can’t stop himself from saying more.

That was what he was scared of.

Why hasn’t he let you go?

“Sick’a fuckin’ losin’ people.”

The frustration when he speaks is palpable, and you’re not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes you move - maybe it’s both, culminating in your own desire that someone would finally see through your crippling bravado and offer you a hug or something - but your hand snakes out to grab his before you even think, shaking it slightly in the strength of your squeeze.

Then he freezes, and for a second, you think you must have overstepped - that he’s going to push you away and yell at you and leave - but he doesn’t. He just takes a breath, the heft of it rising his shoulders then dropping it as he squeezes your hand back harder, a silent thank you in the press of his fingers against yours.

But still, he lets go, afraid the warmth in his chest might make him do something he regrets, and you chew at the dried skin of your lip, thinking about the right thing to say.

Fuck, you could never navigate things like this - it got better as you got older, sure, but words always seemed to fall short when it came to you and him - and when you finally settle on something, half of you wonders if it was just because you thought it better than nothing.

“I feel you.”

Because what else are you supposed to say? That it’s going to be alright and that he shouldn’t blame himself because it's so blatant he is? It’s thin ice you’re walking on, the fear of sounding patronizing drowning out the spark of hope you want to light him with, because you remember the man he was. He’s never had anyone fighting in his corner, and you’re not callow enough to think he thinks of you as something - someone - different.

But he does. He does think of you as someone different, and he wants to say more, but he doesn't know where he stands with you, or with himself. If he says what he’s thinking - that he feels like it is his fault and that he’s not sure if he could ever stop feeling like that. That he’s scared shitless and like it’s some big joke that people actually look up to him for things - wouldn’t that make it feel too real?

So he doesn’t. He just tips the lip of the glass against his and takes another sip to make sure his mouth is occupied, staring down at the bottom ridge of it until you speak again, and he’s helpless to do anything but look at you.

“At least it’s beautiful out tonight.”

He’s sent back to twenty years ago then - the scrawny redneck you’d somehow deemed good enough to be your friend forcing his old habits back to the him of the present - and he can’t help the squeaked little noise of a response. Words have always been hard for him, too. They’re hard for him to think of and even harder for him to form, and it’s made worse by the fact it’s almost like he’s back at 16, convinced that you’re too pretty to talk to.

“Yeah.”

And though you hear his hum of agreement, he never looks away from you, admiring the curve of your familiar smile and the rise of your cheekbones.

The lurch of his heart comes back then - the same beat against his ribs that he hated all those decades ago - and it’s stark then, the realization you’ve never really left him.

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Pressing his lip to the edge of the glass once more, he welcomes the burn of whiskey when you smile at the moonlit horizon, and he watches as you lean your chin against your arms.

You’re beautiful - more beautiful than all the colours in the star-speckled sky - and he could stare for hours.

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