#tendrils. Cologne

[yandere-kokeshi]

— it's mate

Pairing: yandere tentacle-monster x gn reader

Summary: coming home angry from a bad day at work, you started to have fun with yourself. But some tentacles under your bed also wanted to join.

Warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, and smut: mention of dildo’s, reader watches porn from phone (that's soon forgotten), masturbation, slight choking, tentacles (DUH), anal, creampie in all ends (;)), and hints at eggs. 

Sighing softly, you dropped your bags from work as you entered your home, the exhaustion of the day at the office weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Your dickbag of a boss, Jared, was an idiot. Blaming you for things that were out of your control. Treating you differently than the rest of your team. Teasing too far and being too touchy for comfort. What an ignorant prick. 

It was irritating just thinking about him. 

Watching his ‘unique’ hair toss back, dye a colorful green, and flaunt it like it’s the most amazing thing. Oh, and let’s not forget about the horrible smell of cigarettes. The sharp cologne was worse. 

Gagging was a good way of describing him.

You weren’t hungry. Eating soup at lunch was fulfilling, but you were fulfilling something else. Something more… private. 

Walking into your bedroom, you sluggishly undressed yourself, throwing the dirty clothes onto the floor as you reached for your t-shirt. But you hesitated, stopping in your tracks before, knowing full well you don’t need it. 

It was a long day, and you deserve a treat. A good treat, that’s for sure. 

You flopped on your bed, a sizzling warmth of desire swirling in your stomach. You were unsure where the urge came from, considering that nothing — not even your favorite dildos were in sight to tempt you. 

But it was still there, and it needed to be satiated. 

The soft comforter tickled your bare legs, making you bite your lips. You snaked your hands up your stomach to your chest, fondling your now-hardened nubs. It sent chills down your spine, but it wasn’t satisfying your needs. 

You reached beside you, unlocking your phone with swift fingers, and began your search; the reliable porn site you used all the time when days were too rough. 

Quickly finding an appealing video, one that you knew would get you off, you pressed it — feeling your thighs clench uncontrollably at the excitement. 

As the video continued, you chewed your lips and snaked your hand underneath your laced underwear; feeling wetness pile. Your head falls back into your pillow, your fingers barely grazing your hole.

You felt your entire body flush. Electricity sends signals down your legs and into your sex. Within seconds, one of your hands went up to fondle your sensitive nipples. Gripping at them, you swirled a finger around your areola. 

Goosebumps rode over you. 

Gasping, you stroked your hole before entering it — slowing the pace as stretching, slight pain came, then quickening it another second later as pleasure and hotness envelops you. 

“Fuck–” you rasped out, pleasure shooting through you and the rope in your abdomen tightening; a clear sign of your closeness. 

Your phone slid beside you, the voices and sounds turning you on more than ever. You quickened the pace of your rubbing, swirling your juices in your sex with your two fingers. 

Suddenly, a faint feeling — a sliding, wet object wraps around your ankle, yanking it closer to the edge. Even with your fingers, you were too occupied with wanting to finish. But yet, something else joined in. 

Black tentacles rose from under your bed, connecting to your ankles and going up your body with a weird sensation: a cold, slick but hot touch. It was pleasing. Odd. Enjoyable nevertheless. 

Cursing out, you turned your gaze down towards your bare legs, seeing black tendrils gripping your ankles. Realization hit you like a bat, and you snatched your legs up, scrambling to sit upright. 

But the darkness grew bigger – pooling around your legs, dragging your form down slowly as they gripped your thighs, skin pulling at the sounds of suction cups pulling at them. 

It was pleasant, fulfilling, just like your desire. Despite your racing heart.

It made no sound, but the pressure increased until your legs parted willingly, and you lay back against your pillow. Yet, you let out a surprised gasp – feeling a black tendril immediately coming up and gripping your neck. 

The thick appendage swirled around your face, pulsing in a way as it was leaving a type of sticky substance onto your cheek — It stopped at your mouth, almost asking for consent before forcing it into your parted lips.

You gagged, but mewled as an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body, right under your skin like thunder. 

Cool and insistent, the pleasure seemed to touch you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Something purred loudly from the blacks of your room. But you couldn’t pay attention to the almost-ancient voice. 

The tentacle in your mouth began to pump slowly, moving further down your throat. You gagged loudly, and when you tried pulling it out, the slick but hot-to-touch skin rose a large growl from the abyss of your room — the sound echoing itself into your very soul. 

You found yourself mewling in seconds. The thick, iridescent tendril between your legs started to tease you; purring loudly, as if it was enjoying your tensed body and gagging state. 

First heat then cold prickled your skin from the inside, all the while the creature remained between your bent legs. 

You knew you should be afraid, yelling for help, but it felt so good. You were so wet.

Then, what felt like a thick, serpentine tongue lapped curiously around your sex, tasting you, before the very tip pressed against your hole and you yelped. That same numbing, tingling, intense hot and cold, almost like when you tasted alcohol for the first time, began to swirl around your hole, tracing the lines of your puffed sex, and finally dipping inside you.

You moaned in pleasure, toes curling, as the creature moved rhythmically in and out of you, licking over your nipples when it pulled out, then returning the pressure to your inner walls until you were dripping and shuddering. 

It seemed to like it when you moaned, pushing deeper and gripping your thighs with its strange, tentacles which joined in your other hole.

“More…” breathed a deep and echoing voice, the walls of your room itself echoing the demand. 

You were stuffed in each way. 

The tentacle in your mouth started to jerk quickly, the tentacle slapping against your chin with every thrust. You moaned, feeling pleasure sweeping through you, you wanted to say more. Please give me more. But you couldn’t. 

Not when you’re stuffed to the brim. 

Spit dribbled down your chin. Numbing your skin as it face-fucked you; the movements becoming uneven, and the creature, somehow, groaning in a non-English language. 

“Such a pretty thing…”

The voice rang in your ears, your throat bulged as a muffled scream erupted from you — feeling pulsing ropes coiling around your arms, legs, and thighs; wrapping each of your limbs tightly and spreading you wider as you rose faster to your needed climax. 

Suddenly, an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body under your skin like electricity. 

And with that, the length, deep-throating you, sent hot strings of fluid down your throat; coating your tongue with salty, but delicious fluid that was entirely making you crazy. 

“Yesss….” came the echoed voice, one tendril tightening around your leg as another was playing with your nipples, “Swallow us whole, pretty human.”

Your eyes were watering, as you swallowed the continuous hot, thick fluid down your tightening throat. You couldn’t breathe, all your holes being used.

Seconds went by, and before you know it, the creature slid itself out of your abused throat — you let out a low-pitched whine, not only at the fact of not finishing, but wanting to continue.

Your struck nerves were going through the roof, and the creature was enjoying it.

“No need to be upset,” the creature cooed, “You’ll soon finish. Just need to prepare for the breeding process, mate.”

The voice hummed as your eyes widened. But, it left with no room for questioning or begging, because when it said that, you were quickly repositioned — you now being on your stomach, face being squished against your pillow, and feeling a rope slithering down your sleek back. Assuring you as to what’s about to come. 

Your heart lurched as you felt something much larger, thicker, took the place of the thin tentacle, the head testing against your entrances until your spine arched, and you moaned loudly against the writhing darkness around you. 

Then, in one brutal motion, it seated itself inside you. 

Its lengths filled you, and something pressed against that spot as its movements crescendoed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

You moaned shamelessly, “Yes–! More!” 

The surrounding air got warmer, the movements behind you slightly rougher as each tentacle took turns — one going in, another going out, and vice versa. 

“All ours.”

The growls it revealed sent shivers into your soul. And you were taking everyone like a whore. 

Pleasure like you’ve never felt before swept through you, and you bit into the sheets, moaning like a good ol’ breeder as drool smeared across your hot skin. Strong, and thick tentacles surrounded your waist, arms, and thighs as it pounded into you faster as it growled loudly. 

And finally, you broke. 

You came with a scream, back arching, hips lifting, and hands gripping the wet sheets. Your body spasmed, the rope in your stomach snapped, and the fire spread along your body; sending you over the edge.

“You take us so well — sooo tight.”

And with that, the creature climaxed — hot, thick, and filling cum filled you to the prim. Many tentacles nuzzle your neck, jaw, and help pull your sweaty hair out of your forehead. 

It purred as the fluid filled you still. You felt the tentacles still pleasuring you, sliding in and out of your spent holes at a tortuously slow speed. Even though you were full, you felt hot liquid dribble down your thighs and onto the bed. 

The creature chuckled, a slimy-like tongue licking your sweat. It seemed to enjoy your taste.

“We promise to provide the best treatment for you – after all, we are not done.”

You didn’t say anything, even though you wanted to. You simply allowed exhaustion to wash over you, claiming you instantly as your eyes fluttered closed. 

The next morning, the birds chirping and the morning light shining in your room, you grunted at your sore body. Still feeling the same hotness as you felt before. At first, you were so sure it had to be a dream.

But as you looked down, seeing circled hickeys stained onto your skin, and the sheets stained with liquid, it proved you wrong.

Before you could get up, and use the bathroom to clean yourself up from the very messy night — you felt a thick appendage wrap around your ankle, yanking you back into the bed. And before you could speak, something beat you to it.

“Didn’t we tell you we are not done? We need you as our personal mate.”

Goosebumps rose, and the very ache inside you throbbed. 

Before long, you were at it again — all your holes used, your ass and main hole used as breeding grounds as your mouth was used as a bucket holder. And yet, you couldn’t ask for more than a perfect thing. 

You couldn’t say anything, your voice was worn out too long ago that you had forgotten. 

And yet, just as you placed your hand on your belly, hours already passed as a small tentacle affectingly swirled against your fingers, you felt your tummy quite larger; a hint of its impregnating grounds already working. 

—

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Tags: @finleyrambles , @juciybeef. @valeriasbaby ,

[coryosbaby]

2. 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓴 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓼

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: Anakin sneaks into your room when everyone is asleep, finds your diary, fucks you, and then his wife asks your mother if she can stay the night.

𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties), Anakin with nipple piercings— nsfw . daddy kink, pillow humping, doggy | | 𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭: baby, little girl, kid, honey, kitten

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 2 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)

With honeyed eyes and a smile, you can’t stop thinking about your next door neighbor.

You can’t help it! He’s so dreamy, with his big muscled arms, dark hair, and pretty face. And he wants you.

It’s ridiculous; you’re swooning, writing in your glittery pink journal with brushy strokes — Mrs. Skywalker , Mrs. Skywalker, Mrs. Skywalker.

And although it isn’t true— although another woman is taking that name instead of you— you know that this is who you’re meant to be, who you’re meant to love.

Not her.

It’s a hot summer night, a good three days since your last Anakin encounter, and you’ve opened your windows. Warm air streams in through your pink curtains, giving way to a breath of fresh air on your cheeks. Your tank top strap has fallen down, showing some of your collarbone and a bit of your cleavage. Your nipples poke through the fabric, pebbled and— if you’re being honest— you’re incredibly horny.

You can smell the scent of your favorite vanilla candle burning on your desk, but you wish you were smelling Ani instead.

And like clockwork, as if the gods themselves intend it, there he is.

You don’t see him at first— your hand is about to slip down the front of your pajama shorts instead of writing. But when you hear a clatter and a small murmur of “fuck,” from outside of your window you immediately know who it is.

He’s dressed in a black button up and jeans with a cross necklace. Clearly he hasn’t been sleeping even though it’s three in the morning, though you suspect it’s because he’s waited up for you. He grins at you as you take sight of him. His shirt is unbuttoned, leaving little to the imagination. You’ve never noticed it before, given you hadn’t taken his shirt off that first time he fucked you, but his nipples are pierced. Metal barbels sit through them and his chest glistens with a hint of sweat.

Oh, Jesus, you’re swooning.

“Doing that without me?” He teases, grinning. His arms lean against the top of your window.

Excitedly, you get up and run to him as he slips into your room. Your arms wrap around him, and you press your face into his chest. He smells like sweat, cologne, and a hint of alcohol— that must be why he’s become so brave, sneaking into your room like this. You don’t mind. He pulls you to him, and without warning he picks you up and swings you around. You squeal, holding onto his neck as he brings you to your bed and lays you down on it.

“What’s got you so happy?” You ask him. One of his hands grabs your hip while the other comes up to your neck. Your fingers stroke his messy tendrils of hair out of his face. He grins.

“Gettin’ to see you..” he teasingly brings one of your fingers into his mouth, nibbling lightly on your knuckles. “Also, I got a raise.”

You know working as a contractor is no easy job, especially with today’s day and age where money is hard to come by. So the announcement of that has you extremely excited for him.

“That’s fantastic, Ani!” You praise him. You kiss the tip of his nose, and biting your lip as you remember the wetness seeping through your panties, your eyes come down to his chest.

“Didn’t know you had those,” you murmur. Your fingers come down to flick at one of the nipple rings. Anakin sucks in a breath of air, his eyes following your hands on him. “Did they hurt?”

“Like a bitch…” he lets out a tiny sound in the back his throat when you move the barbells side to side and play with them, the stimulation making his cock kick. “Worth it, though. Got em’ a few years ago.”

“Oh yeah? Trying to fit in with the cool kids, old man?”

He snorts, a small smile playing on his lips. “Old man. I’m only fifteen years older than you, little girl.”

“A whole teenager when I was born.” You sigh.

Anakin’s face drops for a moment, curiosity and hint of worry etching across his features.

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“If it did, I wouldn’t fuck you.” You reply nonchalantly. There’s a playful glint in your eye as you look down at his bulging crotch. “Speaking of…”

You palm him, and he groans lowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Speaking of..”

His knee falls in between your legs, grinding up against the spot that you want him most. “Came to see you, but also came to see this little pussy.”

You whine, rolling your hips up against his touch. His fingers reach between your legs, pulling another mewl out of you as he flicks your clit with his thumb. Anakin coos, mockingly pouting.

“Does it hurt when daddy isn’t touching you, baby?“ You nod your head, and it has Anakin grinning ear to ear. “Thought so. Missed this, honey… missed you purrin’ like a little kitten for me.”

He lifts himself up onto his knees, pulling your legs towards him so your thighs are wrapped around his waist. He lifts your shirt up to your ribs, beginning to leave small kisses as he slips his shirt off of his shoulders. He bites down into your belly, leaving a hint of teeth marks there. All while you’re mewling the whole time— your hands are in his hair, pussy clenching. His arm hits something, mid kiss— what could it be? Pulling away, he takes sight of your journal. Closed, with sparkly pink glitter all over it and your name written in jumbled letters on the front. His curiosity peaks, and he picks it up with raised eyebrows.

“Is this your diary?” He asks, amused. You blush, trying to reach up and grab the book away from him. But he just tsks, and holds your arm down with his much stronger one.

“Wonder what you’ve written in here, baby.”

“No! Don’t do that!” You struggle against him, but to no avail. “Ani, c’mon…”

He flips through the pages with one hand, opening it mid air. And there, in between the pages, falls out a small square photo. Anakin’s Facebook profile picture— him, with his wife. Except his wife isn’t in the photo because you had cut her face out of it.

Anakin should be a little freaked out. Especially since when he continues to flip through the pages, he sees the entry where you had wrote Mrs Skywalker— and Anakin’s name. Just his name, over and over. But he isn’t. Quite the contrary, he gives you another one of his toothy grins and lets out a laugh.

“Jesus, kid. You’re a little stalker, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m not!” You squirm, and he loosens his grip on you. You scramble to put the photo back in between the pages and shut the book abruptly. You hastily move away from Anakin and off the bed to put it into the pink safe in your closet where it belongs. Anakin trails behind you. Quick to forget the pain in your knees as you sit on them and close the lid, you begin to lock up the safe.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mutter. You lean forward and nervously fumble through your hair as your hands rest on the lid. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute,” Anakin replies wholeheartedly. But then, his voice has a dangerous lilt to it, as his fingers make their way to the locks of your hair. He grips it tightly, pulling it back so your head lifts to look up at him. He bends down, just enough so he can graze his lips against your ear. “Sweet, even.. you like me a lot. Don’t you, kitten?”

Flushed, you nod your head. He lets go of your hair, and your head drops back to its regular position. You let out a tiny whimper. As you stand up, Anakin watches your tits bounce through your tank top with a hungry stare. His mouth is on yours, then. Hot and heavy, licking into your mouth and shooting white hot heat up the expanse of your spine. It’s so sudden— your knees practically buckle. You love the way he kisses you. Hungry, aching, hot. His arms envelope your body into his much wider one, and he begins to guide you back towards your ruffled pink sheets. Your knees hit the edge of the bed and you tumble down onto them with Anakin’s fit body straddling your legs. His big hands fist the hem of your tank top and pull it up over your chest so he can get a taste of your sweet, plump tits. He grab your wrists and pins them above your head as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Ani..” you moan, watching the way his lashes flutter and he desperately laps at your pebbled bud. He hums, but when you let out a particularly loud whine, he’s putting his hand over your mouth and pulling away.

“Be quiet,” he says. “Don’t wake them up, or you’re in big trouble.”

You nod, obedient, but instead of diving back into your chest, Anakin’s eyes fixate on your pillow wrapped in silky pink satin. He grabs it, positions it on the bed, and lifts your body up. He slides your shorts down your legs, exposing your wet, clenching cunt. He positions the pillow underneath you.

“Hump it, baby. If you’re good, I’ll fuck you nice and hard. How’s that sound?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck at the thought of Anakin watching you in such a way. Your pussy lips hit the pillow, and you lean onto your hands to gather friction. You move your hips back and forth, and oh, the silk on your sweet cunt makes you drenched. The way it catches just right on your puffy little clit, your pussy beginning to quiver as it gets the stimulation it so desperately needed. Anakin watches, on his knees, and you look back behind you to see him stroking himself. He’s standing in front of the bed, your ass facing him on the edge. He’s got his thick cock out in his hand, his eyes fixated on the fat of your ass and your pussy peeking out from between your legs. The sight only makes you fuck yourself harder.

It isn’t long, with Ani’s depraved little phrases, watching his precum drip down his fist, that you can feel yourself getting close. You desperately hump the pillow with everything you have, little whimpers of, “daddy, daddy, I want it” spilling from your angelic lips. Anakin grunts as he watches you fall apart, your cum coating the pillow in white, gooey strands. Your body relaxes lazily against it, and you can feel Anakin’s cock prodding at your entrance. Your legs shake, the overstimulation making your head spin.

“Ani..” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to slide himself inside of your tight heat. He groans, low and heavy, as he feels your cunt for a second time. Your body still rests on the pillow, and he looks down to watch the little wet patch under it growing evermore prominent. Your cunt is practically dripping on his cock.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes out, his hands grabbing the flesh of your ass. He lands a teasing little smack to one cheek, making you clench and bury your face into the sheets below you. “Aww, look at you. Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve..”

“All for you,” you moan out, as he begins to thrust inside of you. “This pussy is all yours, daddy.”

And he wants to reply to you. He wants to agree, say that he’s all yours, too. But the both of you know that it isn’t true, that he will never fully be yours. Not if he’s married to her.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head. Not now. Not when he has you all spread out on his aching dick, not when your plump ass is bouncing back against his hips. No, he’s going to savor this. He’s going to spread open all of your holes by the time the night is done.

—

And when he’s done that, after hours of fucking (love making, is what the both of you secretly whisper to each other. Not fucking, not screwing. Just making love), he lays there with you. There is no sense in leaving. Padme has definitely noticed by now, that he’s out and he’s not coming back for the rest of the night. He holds you to him with his big arms and he whispers little stories to you about his life. You tell him about school, about your passions and your dreams. Things you’ve told him a million times before, but things that Anakin doesn’t mind hearing more than once. His fingers draw teasing circles into your naked back, and your eyes almost flutter shut.

Almost.

The sound of loud knocking on the door makes them shoot open. You hear your mother padding downstairs, and you and Anakin look at each other completely frozen.

Padme.

It’s her voice, ringing out through the house, talking to your mother with a cry in her voice.

“He’s doing it again! He’s cheating on me, cheating on me with some skank, he hasn’t come home…”

Your eyes widen, heat creeping up your neck. She’s talking about you. She doesn’t know that, but still. She knows what Anakin is up to, she knows that he’s seeing another woman. Even as hypocritical as she is, being a cheater herself, you fear getting caught.

You want to cry.

Your bottom lip wobbles, crystalline tears threatening to spill, but right before they can you hear footsteps coming up to your room. Your eyes widen, and without even thinking twice you direct Anakin towards the bathroom interconnected into your room. You close the door on him, and gather up the courage to answer whoever is on the other side as you hastily throw your clothes back on and hide your cum stained pillow.

You look at yourself in the mirror, fucked out and hair messy, but you can just say you were asleep.

Your hand on the doorknob, you let out a breath of air as you open it.

It’s her. She’s covered in rain, and she’s crying.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” she says to you. You try not to gape like a fish. “Your mom said you had an extra blanket in here. I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom, and the comforter isn’t washed yet.”

You gulp, your heart beating out of your chest, but you manage a smile.

“Yeah. Sure, Padme. Wait there.”

You leave the door open merely a crack, and you move to grab the extra blanket sitting in a basket in the farthest corner of the room. You open the door back up and lend it to her. She says thank you, and wanders down the hall.

You close the door with an ache plaguing your chest.

[pin-k-ink]

transparent // dazai osamu

tw ⇢ sexual tension, teasing, groping, mention of a casual relationship, grinding, semi public sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, blowjob, face-fucking

wc ⇢ 8.1k

The ambient bustle of the Armed Detective Agency's bullpen faded into white noise the second Dazai sauntered through the door that morning. As usual, every molecule of oxygen in the room seemed to realign around his presence - an inescapable gravitational pull you'd learned to resist through sheer stubborn will.

"Well, well..." That dangerous rasp curled upwards to greet your ears like a physical caress. "If it isn't my favorite co-worker looking bright-eyed and dangerously gorgeous as ever."

You refused to rise to the blatant bait, keeping your attention firmly affixed on the paperwork before you. Out of your periphery, you tracked Dazai's leonine prowl as he drew nearer, moving with that unnervingly predatory grace. 

"No 'good morning' for me today?" he purred once near enough for you to smell the sandalwood tang of his soap. "And after I took such care with my appearance in hopes of stealing a smile."

That got you to cut him a sidelong glance - the tousled artistry of his chestnut locks, the elegant sprawl of his limbs as Dazai braced himself against the edge of your desk. One dark brow winged upwards leadingly, beckoning for you to drink in each carved angle and sinuous line.

You simply hummed a vague, noncommittal noise before refocusing elsewhere. This game between you two was too well-trodden to merit much reaction anymore. Dazai practically vibrated with sensual presence hoping to rattle you, to compel even the barest response. But you'd learned to ignore those silken ploys through sheer repetition and stubbornness.

"Oh, so we're going to be difficult today, are we?" The insinuation curled rich and buttery against the sensitive whorls of your ears. "You know how I adore a spirited challenge, gorgeous."

The subtle lean of Dazai's torso brought the smoky, masculine blend of his cologne into your atmosphere in dizzying concentration. You couldn't quite smother the infinitesimal stall of your lungs as that potent scent catalyzed unwanted responsiveness low in your belly. 

Dazai didn't miss the reactive flutter of your lashes either. A low rumble vibrated up from the broad column of his throat as he straightened again, relieving the intimate invasion temporarily.

"We're early yet, I suppose," he mused, tone dripping arch self-assurance once more. "But not to worry. I plan on coaxing plenty of delightful sounds from those pretty lips before the day's through, my dear."

Allowing your eyes to slit open revealed Dazai leaning in once more, close enough for you to feel the whisper-soft phantoms of breath ghosting across your cheek like sin made solid. Close enough to drown in those heavy-lidded russet pools glittering with blatant promise and challenge.

"I do so look forward to seeing what other...responsive tells I can tease out of you next." The words all but vibrated against your own parted lips, laced with a blistering edge of confidence. "This game's only just begun..."

With that deliberately provocative murmur, Dazai swept away towards his own workspace with that distractingly predatory grace. Leaving you struggling to recover your equilibrium as heated tendrils of awareness sparked low in your abdomen despite your best efforts.  

As much as you tried to bury yourself in menial busywork over the ensuing hours, you couldn't quite shake off the thrall of Dazai's electrifying presence. Of the effortless male potency that seemed to radiate from his very pores and cloud the air into near-solidity whenever you were in proximity.

He always seemed to find reasons to invade your orbit, crowding into your space under the flimsiest of pretenses. Dazai would stretch languidly, allowing that leanly muscled torso and the shadowed vee of his collar to present itself for shameless perusal.  

Or he'd sprawl against the edge of your desk, one lean thigh brushing yours in seeming accident as those heavy-lidded eyes bored into you with simmering heat. Forcing you to confront the sensual geometry of his features up close and at dangerously point-blank range.

The air between you and Dazai seemed to grow heavier and more charged with each passing interaction. An undeniable, nearly tangible tension that thickened the atmosphere into an insulating haze of pure distillation.

Like the time you'd been bent over one of the file cabinets, digging through the lower drawers for an elusive case report. The whisper-soft pad of Dazai's measured footfalls was your only warning before the solid wall of his chest pressed flush against the curved line of your spine. 

You jolted upright, ready to berate him for the inappropriate proximity. But Dazai simply hummed a low, distinctly satisfied rumble as you found yourself effectively pinned between the unforgiving metal and his firm masculine heat.

"There now, no need to panic," that treacherously rich timbre rasped against the nape of your neck. "I'm simply...appreciating the view up close for a change."

You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Dazai's hooded regard skating down the length of your trapped form in unhurried debauch. The subtle flex of his abdomen with each humid exhale pressed your lower backs even more snugly together.

Despite willing every nerve to remain impassive, your traitor body responded to the overwhelming physicality of being encased in Dazai's orbit like this. You swallowed hard, acutely aware of the thunderous trip-hammer of your pulse visible at the hollow of your throat.  

Dazai's answering hum vibrated straight through to your very marrow, this one edged with dark sin and a hint of smoke. Then he shifted fractionally, allowing the insistent ridge of his cock to grind against the swell of your ass in blatant taunt.

"It's a perspective I really must take advantage of more often," he practically purred against your nape. "Don't you agree, beautiful?"

You opened your mouth, determined to unleash a scathing rebuke for his flagrant impropriety. But Dazai simply chuckled again - rich and indolent - before that scorching brand of his torso finally disengaged. Leaving you to sag weakly against the drawer front, ears ringing with fractures of your own wildly skittering pulse and Dazai's husky endearments.

Another time, you'd been rifling through the copy machine's depleted supply tray in search of a new ream of paper to reload. So absorbed in your simple task that you didn't register the weighted silence signaling Dazai's intrusion until he moved to loom at your back once more.

"Need a hand there, gorgeous?" The words dripped molten sin directly into your ear. "Seems awfully inconvenient having to crouch down like that in that tight little skirt of yours..."

Cheeks going instantly incendiary, you snapped ramrod straight only to find Dazai's smoldering regard searing directly down the generous vee of your blouse from over one shoulder. A deliciously wicked slant curved those lush lips as he drank in every flustered micro-expression flickering across your features.

"Although..." he mused, rich and resonant. "I can't say I mind the view from this angle." 

Dazai leaned in slightly on the emphasis, allowing the solid wall of his torso to brush against the curve of your backside. Just a fleeting whisper of contact, but it seared like a brand all the same - sparking riotous consciousness of every place your bodies didn't quite touch.   

You struggled to rally a retort, to summon some semblance of the withering composure you desperately clung to amid these escalating provocations. But Dazai simply slanted you with another heated sweep of that darkly weighted stare, effectively robbing you of both breath and cutting words.

"Then again, we'd hate for you to...overexert yourself in such discomfort, now wouldn't we?" The words dripped like poisoned ambrosia from between those sensuous lips you'd been trying not to fixate upon.

Before you could formulate a response, Dazai's hands settled in decisive arcs around your waist - pulling you snugly back against the rigid wall of his chest. Not ungently, but with enough deliberate physicality to send a tremulous frisson ricocheting through your nerves like skipped stones across a glassy mere.

"Allow me..." he rumbled, voice dropping to an even more dangerously resonant timbre that catalyzed your pulse into a thunderous gallop. 

Dazai's answering chuckle against your nape made it clear he could sense every reactive shiver rippling through you. Yet he made no move to extract himself or relieve the overwhelming potency of being encased in the scorching orbit of his body like this. The silence grew thicker and more electrically charged by the second...

The tension almost became a living, breathing force unto itself - thickening the atmosphere around you and Dazai into a heavy, charged miasma. Every interaction seemed to crackle with unspoken provocation and heated undercurrents begging to finally breach the surface.

Like the time you were working late reviewing security footage from a stakeout, so absorbed in studying the grainy images that you didn't notice Dazai's approach until he materialized directly behind you. The solid bulk of his chest pressed flush against your back as those long arms bracketed the desk on either side, effectively trapping you in the scorching vise of his body.

"There you are, gorgeous," the silken timbre vibrated against your nape, raising delicious little contrails along your sensitized nerves. "Getting some overtime in, I see..."

You opened your mouth to issue a reprimand, but all that emerged was a strangled little noise as Dazai allowed more of his weight to settle against you from behind. The hard ridges and hollows of his frame etched themselves into the soft give of your body with delirious, molten precision.

"Now, now...no need for such an...enthusiastic welcome," he crooned, each consonant seeming to score tingling paths across your thundering pulse.

Dazai shifted infinitesimally, rolling his hips in a slow, suggestive grind that had you stifling a tremulous whimper against your will. You could feel the smile curving against the sensitive span of your nape as he luxuriated in your body's involuntary reactions.

"Although I must admit, I do love how...responsive you are to me, beautiful." The words emerged thickened by sin as one large palm skimmed up your ribcage and splayed with obvious possession between your breasts. "Makes a man wonder what other delicious little noises he could coax out with some...dedicated effort."

Despite your best attempts at impassivity, you couldn't quite restrain the full-bodied shudder that rippled through you at the lascivious implication. Dazai's hips rolled again - a pointed, insistent grind punctuating his velvety murmur as he leaned until you could practically taste the sandalwood tang of his skin.

"What do you say, gorgeous? Why don't we find out together..."

Another time, you'd leaned over to plug in your laptop charger that had come loose from the outlet, dress riding up to expose an indecent swath of thigh and backside. So focused on your search that you didn't register the telltale quiet until Dazai's heated rumble caressed your senses from somewhere directly behind.

"Well...hello there." The gruff rasp contained undisguised sin as you whipped around to find him looming at your back - chest only scant inches from brushing your own. "Now isn't this just a delicious view to stumble across?"

You couldn't even summon an ounce of outrage, too immediately arrested by the unapologetic heat blazing in Dazai's midnight regard. The way it seemed to physically scorch across your exposed skin, raising delirious inflamed prickles.

Dazai allowed his stare to streak down the length of you in one unhurried, carnal sweep. When his russet gaze finally battled back up to lock with yours at eye-level, you felt like every molecule had been methodically undressed for perusal despite remaining clothed.

"You know..." He rasped at last, pitching his timbre around the words like a physical caress. "For someone who so adamantly claims they're not trying to tempt certain...responses...you certainly have an interesting way of presenting yourself, beautiful."

On the emphasis of that last word, Dazai allowed his upper body to roll forwards in one languid swell - forcing your spines into heated alignment as he crowded you snugly back against the desk. You couldn't stifle the sharp inhalation as sinuous muscle and blistering male heat surrounded you in a searing brand.

The low, humming growl Dazai released seemed to reverberate straight through to your very marrow. You shuddered despite yourself as his broad palms mapped the flare of your hips in a scorching, proprietary glide that stopped just short of indecent territory before retreating slowly.

"Well then, I certainly can't fault your...presentation," he husked, the words ghosting across your thundering pulse point. "Although you're making it dreadfully difficult for a gentleman to retain his composure around such blatant temptation..."

The thick, luxurious weight of the tension binding you and Dazai together grew heavier and more insistent with each passing encounter. until it felt like a living, breathing force of nature unto itself. An elemental power that threatened to finally shatter whatever fragile truces still existed between you.

Like when you reached above your head to reshelve some files, causing your blouse to ride up and expose a tantalizing strip of toned abdomen. You didn't hear Dazai's silent approach over the whisper-shush of papers until the solid wall of his torso pressed flush against your lower back.  

His palms settled with scorching possession around your waist, fingers splaying to maximize contact as Dazai effectively pinned you between the searing brand of his body and the shelving. A rumbling purr of approval reverberated straight through you as he allowed his hips to grind in one molten, indolent roll.

"Well, well..." The words dripped molten sin against the nape of your neck, raising delicious frissons. "What an absolutely tantalizing surprise to stumble across..."

You couldn't quite restrain the tremulous whimper that slipped free at the insistent outline of his dick nestling against the cleft of your backside. Dazai answered with a darker, smoke-edged growl of blatant male satisfaction deep in his chest - the sound catalyzing a betraying spire of heat in your core.

"So responsive," he rasped in carnal delight. "I'd wondered just how far I'd have to push before coaxing those pretty little sounds out of you again, beautiful."

One calloused palm stroked up the vulnerable inward curve of your waist in a lingering caress. Then Dazai splayed those sinful fingertips across your abdomen, the brand of his touch raising molten wildfires in its wake as it slowly wandered higher.

"Although now that I've heard them..." His teeth grazed the thundering thrum of your pulse in a searing graze. "I seem to find myself utterly incapable of resisting the urge to hear them again. And again..."

He punctuated the delirious promise by flexing his hips with pointed emphasis, forcing your lower back to arch in order to maintain that scorching point of contact. You heard yourself keen softly in a plaintive, needy rasp that only seemed to stoke the banked wildfire in Dazai's smoldering stare to searing new heights.

"There it is..." The timbre emerged nearly unraveled into gravel now as he sealed you flush once more. "Sweeter than any symphony, wouldn't you agree, gorgeous?"

Another time, one of Dazai's hands settled low on your hip as he leaned around you to reach for a file you were reviewing. Instead of extracting himself afterwards, he allowed the solid brand of his torso to remain locked against you from behind as if it was the most natural thing in the world.    

Even with you facing the wall, you felt the scorching weight of his hooded stare caressing the exposed nape of your neck. Each measured exhalation feathered across those sensitized nerves in delirious, searing contrails guaranteed to raise prickles across your skin.  

"You're awfully tense, beautiful," Dazai rasped at last with that rich, dripping insinuation. "And after the long day you've endured, so focused...so disciplined..."

His free hand settled at the dip of your lower spine, callused fingertips trailing up in a lingering glide that catalyzed your pulse into a molten gallop. You couldn't quite suppress the tremulous shiver despite willing every molecule to remain composed and unaffected by the branding possession of his touch. 

"Don't fret," he murmured, chin dipping to graze the fragile whorl of your ear as his palm continued meandering ever higher. "I'll be sure to take...such exquisite care in relieving that tension for you."

One broad splay spanned the expanse between your shoulder blades, allowing the solid brand of his forearm to pin you flush as Dazai's hips rolled in a suggestive grind. You couldn't quite muffle the choked whimper that slipped free despite your best restraint, scalp tingling beneath the rasp of his answering chuckle vibrating against your nape.

"There now...isn't that better already?"

After weeks of the escalating tension and suggestive encounters between you and Dazai, he finally decided to change tactics. One afternoon, after another heated brush of intimate proximity had left you both simmering, Dazai caught your arm gently as you tried to make your escape.

"Enough games between us, don't you think?" His tone was low but serious, none of the usual honeyed taunts coloring the words. "We both know this delicious dance can't go on indefinitely before one of us combusts entirely."

You opened your mouth, not sure if you intended to feign ignorance or finally give voice to the crackling awareness stretching between you. But Dazai merely shook his head, holding up a hand to forestall you.

"Don't bother denying the heat, beautiful. We're both too far down this road to keep playing coy." His gaze bored into yours with surprising intensity. "Which is why I have a proposal for you - a way for us both to finally scratch this undeniable itch that's been driving us slowly mad."

Interest and trepidation warred within you as you regarded Dazai steadily. He seemed to read the conflict because one side of his mouth kicked up in a slanted smile, but not the usual teasing curl. This one was weighted with quiet promise.

"Hear me out," was all he said, letting the susurrant words hang pregnant between you. "I'm prepared to make you an offer, gorgeous...one that will allow us both to have what we've been craving with no more teasing or games involved. If you're amenable, that is."

For once, you found yourself speechless under the solemn intensity of Dazai's regard. He was clearly offering a way to finally resolve the explosive tensions building between you, laid bare with none of the usual dazzling deflections. The decision rested entirely with you now.

After a pregnant pause where you searched his expression, you gave a measured nod. "I'm listening..."

Dazai's gaze remained steady and unflinching as you indicated your willingness to hear him out. For a protracted beat, the weighted silence stretched taut between you - alive with the same sparking undercurrents that had been slowly reaching a simmer over the past several weeks.

"What I'm about to propose may sound a bit...unconventional," he began at last, rich timbre stripped of any extraneous inflection. "But I think we're both finally ready to acknowledge that there's something undeniably potent between us. A craving that's only going to keep escalating until it finally explodes in spectacular fashion."

You felt your breath hitch despite willing your lungs to remain steady. Dazai's manner was severe now - bereft of any lurid suggestions or honeyed come-ons. This side of him felt almost dangerous in its solemn intensity, drawing you in like a cobra's mesmeric dance.

"The way I see it," he continued after a charged pause, "we have two choices before us. We can keep playing these delirious games, circling one another until the inevitable conflagration consumes us both in riotous ruin..." 

Dazai allowed his smoldering stare to streak down the feminine lines of your body in one ponderous sweep before returning to lock with yours. The sheer corporeal weight of his appraisal raised exquisite tendrils of heat despite yourself.

"Or we could...indulge ourselves a bit. Satisfy this relentless craving in a controlled manner before it spirals entirely out of hand."

The meaning behind his quietly purred suggestion catalyzed a wildfire of its own inside your veins. You couldn't quite mask the reactive shiver that rippled through you, though Dazai didn't seem to fault you for it. He simply tipped his head a fraction, maintaining that weighted connection between your locked stares as he allowed the implication to sink in.

"Just a temporary arrangement between colleagues, you understand," he clarified after a protracted beat. "No strings, no pesky romantic entanglements to complicate matters further. Just two consenting adults sating this rapacious hunger that's becoming so painfully... insistent." 

Each husked word felt like searing little brands scoring across your nerves - stoking the already molten kiln banked low in your abdomen. Despite the clinical way Dazai couched his proposition, the subtle langue of his body seemed to bleed with darker promise as he shifted fractionally closer into your space.

"Think about it, beautiful," he rumbled, pitching the entreaty to detonate against the sensitive whorls of your ears. "All of this delicious tension finally allowed to unspool in unbridled release. No more restraints, no more teasing folly - just the sweet rapture of indulgence you crave as badly as I..."

The deliberate roll of Dazai's formidable torso brought his intoxicating musk crashing over you in dizzying waves. You swayed automatically towards the epicenter of that sensual gravitational pull despite your better instincts. Close enough to feel the branded caress of each measured exhale fanning across your thundering pulse.   

Close enough to be utterly transfixed by the smoldering mural unraveled in smoked whiskey and molten onyx as Dazai searched your expression for rejection - or acquiescence.

"So tell me," he rasped at last, voice descending into a ruinous timbre that resonated straight through to the hollows of your marrow. "Do we finally break this sweet torture between us, gorgeous? Or keep stoking the embers until we incinerate ourselves entirely?"

The razor-edged promise hung in the electrified space twinned heartbeats seemed to suspend entirely. Dazai simply held you transfixed with that pointed, infinite stare - allowing his words to fully permeate your awareness and render you weightless in their wake.

For once, you realized with dawning inevitability...you didn't actually have an objection to voice.

You held Dazai's piercing gaze, feeling the weight of his proposition settle over you like a heavy mantle. The suggestion of a casual, no-strings arrangement between you hung thick in the air, heavy with unspoken caveats. 

Deep down, you knew there was no way to keep things impersonal or detached if you went down that path with Dazai. The sheer smoldering intensity between you, the steadily simmering hunger you saw reflected in his russet stare...it carried an inexorable gravity that would consume you both entirely if unleashed.

For a suspended breath, Dazai simply watched you digest the implications in silence, mahogany eyes glittering like polished obsidian. Then you saw a muscle feather almost imperceptibly along the stark line of his jaw as you failed to immediately agree.

"Or perhaps..." His rumbling timbre emerged roughened by sin and smoke. "A more... permanent arrangement might be in order between us after all, hmm?"

Your indrawn breath felt approximately as loud as a sonic boom in the weighted quiet. Dazai didn't so much as blink, maintaining his leonine scrutiny as you tried to process that molten undercurrent suddenly shifting between you. 

The very air itself seemed to thicken and constrict around you both, alive with the sparking frissures of unraveling tension. Whatever this was rapidly metastasizing into felt too profound, too utterly cataclysmic to be sated through mere indulgence any longer.

As if intuiting the trajectory of your thoughts, Dazai's full lips curved into a slanting, almost feral approximation of a smile that sent delirious tendrils of heat barreling outwards.

"Yes... I can see it in your eyes now, beautiful." He veritably purred the words into the electrically charged space twinned heartbeats seemed to suspend into breath-held entropy. "This is quickly evolving into something more insistent. More..."

Blazing overhead lights turned his irises into molten eclipses as Dazai allowed his hooded stare to openly devour you once more. Mapping every micro-shiver and telling flutter as his body seemed to radiate waves of tactile seduction without closing the scant distance between you.

"Insatiable," he concluded at last, the tone pitched to detonate with exquisite precision against every nerve in wanton detonation. "Something that won't be so easily slaked through fleeting capitulation between us, hmm?"

The weighted assessment hung in the electrified tension like the string of a bow drawn taut to near snapping. You couldn't even formulate a reply, too transfixed by the banked inferno steadily spiraling into unchecked wildfire behind Dazai's uncompromising mien.

Then his jaw flexed almost imperceptibly before he allowed an exhale to shudder free in humid duress. "Very well then..."

Before you could even process the words, Dazai surged forwards into the scant inches separating your bodies with leonine grace. The sudden, shockingly intimate collision of his larger frame with yours obliterated whatever feeble scraps of space still remained, searing a brand of delirious heat down every straining nerve ending. 

His fingertips seared like molten possession bracketing the soft knolls of your hips as he pressed the irrefutable ridge of his arousal against the cradle of your lowermost curves in a slow, purposeful grind. A starburst of whited-out rapture detonated behind your ribcage at the unapologetic insistence of the motion.

"If total... profane consumption is what you require," Dazai husked against the overheated thrum of your pulse, "then that's precisely what you'll receive from me, beautiful. No half-measures, no restraints..."

The deliberate sweep of his nose nudged yours fractionally to one side, catalyzing twin gasps that mingled with heady potency in the scant space separating your dually parted lips. Searing molten onyx held you hypnotized and weightless, transfixed beneath the intensity of Dazai's smolder as he sealed the vow in that final, scorching murmur.

"I'll simply have to raze you down to your very atoms...and rebuild you entirely anew as mine."

The finality underlying Dazai's vow catalyzed your surrender like a stone finally yielding to gravity's inexorable pull. You couldn't resist the delirious whirlwind of sensation as he closed the last few inches - mouth crashing against yours in a searing, possessive brand. 

Dazai kissed you like a man hungered, all simmering restraint finally shattered into dust beneath the onslaught. His tongue swept between your lips in blatant possession, igniting every receptor into feverish communion as you arched helplessly into the scorching demands of his larger frame.    

One broad palm anchored your nape, angling your parted mouth to deepen the onslaught as Dazai's other arm banded around your waist. Lashing you flush against the exquisitely hewn planes of his torso in a searing, rapturous grind that stole any last lingering objection you might have harbored. 

His growl of dark triumph rumbled straight through your bones as you melted completely beneath that sensual siege - thoughts unraveling into rapturous ash as you finally surrendered to the devouring provocation of Dazai's kiss. Allowing yourself to be plundered with ravenous, openmouthed sweeps that curled your very toes and liquified your bones.

When he finally wrenched his mouth from yours in clear defiance of needing oxygen, you swayed numbly in the aftershocks. Ambient reality felt scorched away by the elemental entropy now rapidly consuming you both in its path. The only remaining anchor was Dazai's half-lidded stare - a molten supernova holding yours effortlessly transfixed as your chests heaved in unison.

"There now..." His graveled growl whispered across your swollen lips, arms still banded in inescapable possession. "Doesn't giving in feel so much better than fighting me at last?"

You could only manage a tremulous, soundless nod - still too thoroughly undone to rally any response beyond instinctively arching for more searing contact. Dazai made a pleased rumble deep in his chest, holding you pinned against the rigid contours of his body by sheer corporeal dominance.

Then his mouth crashed down again in another possessive onslaught, tongue stroking between your lips in blatant avowal of control. He walked you backwards with a series of inescapable grinding steps until your back met the solid resistance of a nearby wall. Caging you there in the vise of his larger frame as his mouth plundered deeper.

You clutched at any available anchor, fingers snarling through the crisp strands at his nape in a desperate bid to ground yourself amid the delirious whirlwind. But there could be no bracing against Dazai's onslaught, only utter surrender to the maelstrom.  

He growled visceral approval at your mindless responsiveness, hips angling to bracket yours in scorching emphasis as one broad palm mapped down your body.

A strangled moan spilled from your lips at the molten drag of his hand across your waist, down the flare of your hips, around to splay against the exposed vee of your inner thigh.

"Look at me," he husked, waiting until your hazy eyes dragged up to his. Then Dazai rolled his hips in a slow, sinuous grind - making sure you could feel the rigid line of his arousal through the confines of his slacks.

"See how utterly wrecked you've left me, gorgeous?" The words vibrated against the fragile whorls of your ear, raising delicious goosebumps. "That's how I've felt since the moment you first walked in here. And now, finally..."

His voice trailed off, allowing the scorching implication to speak for itself as Dazai flexed his hips in another pointed, searing roll. Your eyes practically rolled back in your skull as the pressure ignited a wildfire of need, a molten cascade of sensation that pooled low in your abdomen with alarming speed.

"But I'm not the only one, hmm?"

Those dexterous fingers inched higher along your inner thigh, skating up the tingling span to hover just shy of where you desperately ached for him. You shuddered, unable to contain the tremulous little gasp that spilled free as your hips automatically canted towards the delicious torment.

"You're equally ruined, aren't you, beautiful?" Dazai's words seared directly into the tender shell of your ear, setting each delicate nerve alight. "I can see it in those gorgeous eyes. The way you melt into me like a kitten seeking affection, aching for my touch..."

You moaned deliriously as he allowed his fingers to skate the sensitive hollow just above your hip, dipping beneath the hem of your blouse. Each stroke raised exquisite frissons along your spine as you strained for more.

"Don't fret, sweet girl..." Dazai murmured, voice dipping even lower as his fingers continued mapping higher. "I'll make sure we both get exactly what we crave. What we've needed since that first meeting in my office..."

When his fingers finally delved between your thighs, parting the fabric to tease along the wet cleft within, your head fell back in utter surrender. Eyes slipping closed at the overwhelming surge of pleasure that rocketed through you, searing every receptor into ecstatic communion.

"Yes," he rumbled darkly against the vulnerable slope of your neck, mouth trailing a series of scalding little bites in his wake. "I'm going to make sure we both unravel and find exquisite ruin together, sweet girl. But first..."

Those long, elegant fingers finally found their target, sliding against the slick center of your desire. You cried out, spine arching as Dazai's thumb stroked a deliberate path across your throbbing clit.

"I think it's only fair to return the favor, don't you?"

Then he sank two fingers into your welcoming core, the stretch forcing a sharp keening sound from your throat. Dazai released a rough purr of approval at your reaction, laving the stinging bites with the soothing flat of his tongue as he slowly pumped the digits.

"That's it, beautiful," he crooned against your thundering pulse. "Give me everything. Let me hear how utterly wrecked you are already."

Each thrust stoked the embers blazing into wildfire inside you, turning your muscles into liquid flame as the molten rhythm built. Dazai's mouth crashed against yours in another searing kiss as the fingers curling deep inside you stroked incessantly.

You surrendered completely beneath his relentless siege, the only thing holding you upright being his solid frame bracketed against yours. Each thrust stoked the molten flames higher, driving your senses into a delirium until the world narrowed down to the incendiary rhythm between you and Dazai.

A keening wail erupted from your lungs as the pleasure coalesced, cresting and exploding behind your ribcage in a devastating implosion. Dazai's answering groan felt like the sweetest reward as he drank in every tremulous sound and reaction.

As the tremors slowly receded, you became dimly aware of his lips grazing the crown of your head as he carefully withdrew his fingers. Your thighs trembled in the wake of that intense climax, but Dazai merely gathered you against his larger frame.

"That's it, gorgeous," he rasped against the shell of your ear, the timbre thick with lust. "You've been so good, letting me take you apart completely. So good for me, my sweet girl."

The praise made you whimper softly, a shiver rippling through your limbs as the last lingering sparks of rapture finally dissipated. When you managed to crack your eyes open again, Dazai's expression arrested you instantly.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly overtaking the irises entirely. Those full lips were reddened and slightly swollen, the lower still gleaming wet from his ravaging kisses. Dazai's chest was heaving as if he'd run a marathon, but his hold remained steady as he continued murmuring quiet praise into the crown of your head.

"There you are, sweet girl," he rumbled, a crooked little grin twitching across his features. "Still with me?"

Your head managed a feeble little nod, earning an amused chuckle. Then Dazai tipped your chin up until his searing gaze bore into yours with palpable intent.

"Good, because we're far from finished," he warned, the graveled timbre resonating through your bones. "I've wanted you for too damn long to be satisfied with a single taste, sweet girl. Once is going to be nowhere near enough."

You shivered at the unabashed promise, though couldn't quite muster a rebuttal. Not when the molten embers inside you were already roaring back to life beneath the searing heat of Dazai's stare.

"Now, where shall we begin?"

He pondered aloud, tilting his head to one side as he surveyed the options. His free hand wandered lower, tracing idle patterns along the slope of your spine as Dazai considered his options. You could practically hear the gears in his head whirring.

Then his gaze sharpened, honing in on something before a wicked grin split his features. You opened your mouth to inquire, but the words dissolved into a sharp gasp as Dazai seized a handful of your ass and squeezed hard.

"I've had plenty of time to fantasize about this pretty little rear, you know," he murmured against the sensitive whorl of your ear, eliciting shivers. "So many nights wondering just how good you'd look bent over my desk, ass presented and waiting for me..."

Another squeeze, harder this time as he pulled you tighter against the ridge of his erection. Dazai rolled his hips languidly, eliciting a whimper at the delicious friction.

"And the best part?" His voice dropped to a smoke-edged rasp, the timbre reverberating straight through you. "Now I finally get to find out."

Dazai didn't give you time to formulate a reply before he turned, steering you through the maze of desks with a firm hand on the small of your back. He paused once you reached the large executive desk, turning to survey the scene with obvious approval.

"Right here, sweet girl," he purred, fingers drifting down to unzip your skirt and allow it to puddle at your feet. "This will do nicely, don't you think?"

You managed a tremulous little nod, unable to resist leaning into his touch as Dazai guided you towards the edge of the desk. Your hands settled atop the cool surface for balance, and he gave a soft hum of approval at the sight.

"Such a good girl, aren't you?" He praised, calloused fingertips stroking the sensitive flesh along the backs of your thighs. "So eager to please. And you've been doing such a splendid job so far, my sweet."

A tremulous little mewl slipped free at the gentle strokes. You shifted restlessly, arching for more.

Dazai released a rumbling purr, the sound thick with satisfaction as his palm curved around the flair of your backside. The other hand reached for the waistband of his slacks, easing the zipper down as his thumb stroked along the line of your thong.

"I can't wait to get my cock inside you," he rasped, the filthy words causing a shiver. "To feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around me. So tight, so wet...and all for me, gorgeous."

His palm cupped one cheek, kneading gently as Dazai rocked his hips forwards. The ridge of his erection dragged across your slit, parting the fabric with its insistent press. Your mouth fell open in a soft whine at the delicious friction.

"I bet I can even make you scream," he husked against the nape of your neck, rolling his hips again. "Make you fall apart all over my cock as I fuck you right here, bent over this desk."

His palm cracked against the supple flesh, the sound reverberating through the air and causing a sharp cry. A second stinging smack followed, then another. Dazai's mouth roved against your shoulder blades as his hand kept punishing the swell of your backside.

"Just the thought of that has me rock-hard already," he growled, punctuating the vow by grinding his hips forwards once more. "Imagining you all desperate and dripping wet for me, aching for release."

The words alone were almost enough to tip you over the edge. Then the hand palming your backside slipped between your thighs, teasing the fabric covering your soaked slit. You gasped, canting your hips instinctively for more.

"Mm, just like that," Dazai murmured against the nape of your neck. "My sweet girl wants to be fucked, doesn't she? She's so eager, so responsive..."

One finger hooked beneath the fabric, tugging it aside. You could feel the blunt press of his erection nudging between your thighs, so close to finally entering you. The anticipation ratcheted even higher, a delicious tension.

"I've waited far too long to finally claim you, gorgeous," Dazai husked, voice thick with lust. "And I fully intend to take my time with you, sweet girl. But right now..."

One broad palm splayed across the expanse of your lower back, pressing your torso flush against the polished desktop. Your legs were spread wide, and you were held pinned in place by Dazai's weight bearing down behind you.

"Right now," he repeated, the words resonating with finality as his hand wrapped around your waist, fingers curling into the wet fabric of your panties. "I'm going to fuck you the way we both desperately need. Hard and fast, until I've completely ruined you for any other man. Is that understood?"

You managed a frantic little nod, eyes clenched tightly closed as you waited. Every nerve felt alight with anticipation, breath held in suspension.

Then, without any warning, Dazai snapped his hips forwards in a punishing thrust. You cried out sharply, unable to muffle the keening sound at the sudden penetration. His cock drove impossibly deep, filling you so completely you could almost taste him at the back of your throat.

"There now..." He rumbled dark approval, hand stroking up your spine in a soothing gesture. "So beautifully tight around me. You take me so well, gorgeous."

His hips began to move, rocking into you in slow, torturous motions that stoked the inferno burning higher. Each stroke was exquisitely thorough, each thrust bottoming out and sending a delicious jolt up your spine.

Your hands scrambled for purchase against the smooth desktop, seeking an anchor amidst the relentless sensual onslaught. You could feel every inch of Dazai's cock pistoning inside you, could hear the filthy little grunts of pleasure each time his hips snapped forwards.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" His voice emerged in a rough growl, the timbre nearly unraveled with the force of his need. "Being so thoroughly filled, so taken apart by my cock?"

A strangled moan ripped free from your throat at the delicious pressure, and Dazai chuckled roughly in response. One hand curled around your neck, pulling your spine flush against his chest as he increased the pace.

"That's it, sweet girl. Let me hear you. Show me how well you're being fucked, how much you enjoy taking me."

Your hips rocked back to meet his, mindless in the pursuit of ecstasy. Each thrust was more powerful than the last, a relentless cadence that stole your breath and left you helplessly panting. The delicious friction stoked the inferno blazing into wildfire, obliterating all thought in its path.

"That's it, my sweet girl," Dazai husked, voice thick with desire. "Give yourself to me completely. I'll take care of you, sweet girl. I'll always take care of you, sweet girl."

Those words alone nearly tipped you over the edge, a tremulous keen ripping free from your throat as you surrendered. You arched for more, desperate for him to finish what he'd started.

Then his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you captive as Dazai pounded into you. The angle was deeper now, his cock hitting places inside you that caused stars to explode behind your eyelids. Each thrust was more powerful than the last, driving you closer and closer to the razor's edge.

"So close, sweet girl," he husked, voice nearly unrecognizable. "Come for me. Let go, my beautiful girl."

The command detonated like a sonic boom inside you, shattering the tenuous restraint and setting the world ablaze. You screamed his name, back arching as the climax crashed over you.

Dazai snarled a filthy oath as he felt the convulsions ripple through your body, his grip tightening. He kept thrusting, dragging out your orgasm until it was nearly too much to bear.

Your legs trembled, muscles liquefying as the ecstasy crested. But Dazai didn't stop. His hand remained wrapped around your throat, holding you flush against his torso as his hips snapped forwards.

"Yes," he growled, the words vibrating straight through you. "Give it to me, sweet girl. Let me feel that sweet cunt milking me dry, let me fill you up and hear you scream..."

Each word felt like a brand scorching directly into the core of you, the heat so intense it nearly seared. You could barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything beyond shudder and moan beneath the onslaught.

The climax tore through you in an inferno, obliterating any remaining scrap of rational thought in its wake. All you could do was ride the waves, drowning beneath the deluge of pleasure.

Dazai's hips snapped forward once more, hissing a guttural curse as his own release crested. You could feel the liquid warmth filling you, flooding your core and coating the inside of your thighs as his thrusts slowed.

Then, finally, his rhythm stuttered to a halt. The arm holding you steady against him loosened, allowing you to collapse against the desktop. Your muscles felt utterly spent, trembling in the aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath.

Dazai's hand remained on the curve of your hip, anchoring you securely as he slowly withdrew. A breathless little moan slipped free at the loss, though he immediately shushed you with a kiss pressed against the nape of your neck.

"There now," he murmured, tone thick with satisfaction. "Wasn't that infinitely better than keeping our distance, my sweet girl?"

You couldn't even formulate a reply - still reeling from the intensity of that orgasm. But Dazai didn't seem to need an answer, content to hold you pinned against the edge of the desk for a moment longer.

"But now I need you to do something for me," he rumbled after a beat, the words thickening with sin and smoke. "Be a good girl and stand up for me."

You managed a weak, confused little sound as you complied. Dazai's arm was instantly around your waist, steadying you as your trembling limbs struggled to obey. Once your knees stopped shaking, he pulled you closer.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a velvety rumble against your temple. "Now stay right here for me."

Before you could question, his hands dropped to his waistband. You watched in mute fascination as Dazai tugged his slacks down, revealing his half-hard erection. It glistened with the evidence of your shared release, a bead of his spend slipping down the side.

He didn't break eye contact, holding you trapped in the molten depths of his stare. One hand curled around his shaft, giving a languid stroke as Dazai swiped a thumb across the head.

You swallowed thickly, eyes unable to look away as he used the pearled dew to slick his hand.

"Now then," he husked, expression dark with promise. "Open that pretty mouth for me, my sweet."

Your lips parted of their own accord, the motion instinctive. Dazai's smirk widened at the immediate compliance, his free hand tipping your chin upwards to hold you pinned beneath the smoldering heat of his stare.

"I need you to clean me off, sweet girl," he explained, the graveled timbre of his voice sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. "Every. Last. Drop. Understood?"

Another tremulous sound spilled free as you nodded, eagerly getting down on your knees. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with erotic intent as you awaited his next command.

"Good girl," Dazai praised, the words dripping like honey. "Now open that pretty mouth and show me just how good you are at listening to instructions."

Your jaw fell open, tongue darting out to lap against the swollen crown. His fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you forward until you were able to suck the entire length of him into the velvet cradle.

"Just like that," Dazai crooned, the words emerging half-unraveled as his hips bucked forwards. "So fucking perfect. You look so beautiful like this, gorgeous."

His words were punctuated by shallow, rolling thrusts. His shaft grew impossibly hard against your tongue, thick and pulsing. You could feel him swelling, filling your mouth with his musky scent.

Dazai's eyes were blown wide, the pupils completely overtaking the irises. They burned with molten desire, the sight almost enough to tip you over the edge again.

"Now I need you to take me deep," he growled, voice roughened with lust. "Let me feel the back of that pretty throat, my sweet girl."

You could only nod, unable to do anything beyond comply. His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging gently as he angled your head where he needed. Dazai's cock filled your mouth, stretching the walls of your throat as he rocked forwards.

"Such a good girl," he crooned, the words emerging ragged and breathless. "That's it, take all of me. Such a good girl, sucking my cock like a proper little whore. Now open that pretty mouth and let me see those gorgeous eyes."

You moaned, the sound muffled by the length of his shaft. Dazai's fingers tightened in your hair, a warning.

"Good girl," he growled, the words almost feral with the force of his need. "I'm going to fill your sweet little mouth with my cum, sweet girl. Then you're going to swallow every drop. Understood?"

Another frantic nod, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. He groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest as his thrusts grew sharper. His shaft filled your mouth, pushing deeper and deeper until you could barely breathe.

"Take it," he ordered, voice rough and commanding. "Take every drop of my cum, sweet girl."

Then, without warning, Dazai's entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, eyes closing as his head tipped back.

His hips slammed forwards, bottoming out and hitting the back of your throat. You gagged slightly at the sudden intrusion, but he held you pinned. His entire body seemed to shake, muscles corded with strain.

Then his cock throbbed, pulsing against your tongue as his seed flooded your mouth. You moaned, the sound muffled by the shaft filling you.

His eyes flew open, pinning you beneath the molten weight of his stare. You held perfectly still, allowing him to spill into your mouth until his thrusts began to slow.

"Fuck, gorgeous," he panted, hips still rolling as the last spurts trickled down your throat. "That's a good girl, taking it all for me. What a sweet little thing you are, swallowing down my cum like that."

His thumb traced the outline of your lips, the calloused pad dragging along the sensitive flesh. You shivered at the feather-light caress, unable to look away from his half-lidded stare.

"You've earned a reward," Dazai husked, his voice a velvety purr. "And I fully intend to spoil my sweet girl tonight. Shall we begin with dinner? My treat."

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nurse!reader, doctor!nanami, somnophilia [ nanami is the one asleep ], mentions of substance abuse [ alcohol ], noncon, unreciprocated feelings, handjob, riding, creampie, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eleven [ nanami kento + somnophilia ]

“Oh, Doc—“ you’d only gotten it partially out of your mouth before you realized he was asleep. “—tor…” your voice trailed into a quiet whisper of uncertainty as you looked him over. he was sitting upright, arms folded over his chest, and the only real giveaway that he was even unconscious was the fact that his head tilted to the right and downwards. it was a relaxed position, by his standards at least, but you thought it must be quite uncomfortable. you linger by the doorway, nibbling on your lip, before murmuring a soft, “Doctor?” as if to check and see if he were in a deep enough sleep that calling for him wouldn’t disturb him. he didn’t stir, and after a moment more of your timid hovering, you allow the door to the employee break room to close behind you. the automatic lock clicks in place, and you know that no one would be disturbing you in here for a while.

the other nurses had either gone home or were assigned to different floors of the hospital, leaving only you and your snoozing boss in this wing.

you inch closer, as sheepish as you would be if he were awake, your eyes flickering over every inch of him, drinking in every detail. you were so fond of Nanami, so taken by his good looks and his rumbly baritone of a voice. just being in the same vicinity like you were now, smelling the faint, sandalwood cologne that clung to his skin, had your cheeks hotter than an oven.

you adored him, for some reason unbeknownst to even you.

you always had.

you inhale, deeply as you approach, your eye’s coruscating over empty bottles of booze and used glasses. you didn’t know Nanami to drink, and you wouldn’t believe he would do so in the middle of a shift, so you had to assume that the festivities hadn’t been his choice.

you find a girlish giggle bubbling up in your throat, and you stifle it with a hand over your mouth as your eyes trace his face again. this time, you’re hyper aware of the pinky tint to his cheeks, and the shiny, residual alcohol on plush, lower lip. “Finally, an endearing flaw…” you whisper aloud to yourself as you tip toe closer, your heart pounding in your chest. but your eyes are fixed on his lips. slowly and carefully, you stood in front of him, and leaned forward until your mouth was inches from his, breathing a shaky breath against his couplet. you were wide eyed, staring at his countenance; you never thought you would be this close to him, ever. “Can’t handle your booze, doctor…?” it’s hardly a whisper— but syllables strung together in a heavy breath. “It’s okay… I’ll take care of you…”

fear grips you, but your want to make the move you'd never have the opportunity to had he been conscious is stronger, and wills you to close the remaining distance between your mouth and his, your lips trembling before they form a seal with the opposite pair. even though he doesn’t kiss you back, you mewl from his taste. you feel as though you get drunk off the alcohol lingering on his breath, and in his mouth as you pry his lips apart with your tongue, and scrape the inside of his warm cavern.

the urge for more— the need to be close to him overwhelms you, and you slowly pull yourself on to him, straddling his lap when both of your hands careen upwards, and bury themselves in his soft, golden tendrils. you deepen the kiss, panting excitedly into his mouth as his jaw hangs slack, and guide his head back, gently, with both hands.

breaking the deliciously wrong kiss is almost too difficult, but you must come up for air, and you pull back after several seconds of your tongue exploring his mouth. you simply look at him, breathing heavily, and take in the way you’ve spurred his lips to swell with your hard, needy kisses. you could still see that shine on them, so you drag your tongue along his lower tier, before your mouth works on its own volition, trailing over his jaw and down his neck, openmouthed so you can breathe, ragged against his flesh, with your tongue signing your name everywhere it traveled. “You taste good…” you swoon. you couldn’t help yourself, you had to speak the words into existence before latching on to his neck with your teeth. a subtle groan gurgled from deep in his throat, and you feel your stomach turn over, certain that you were caught— but he didn’t move. his eyes remained closed, and you stared for s number of seconds, suckling on his skin, bringing a fresh lovebite up to the surface.

finally convinced that he wouldn’t come to, your hands slide to his tie, making short work of loosening it enough so it sags pathetically against his broad chest, that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. “Does it feel good to you?” you muse, thoughtful as that sound still resonates deep in your core. you want to hear him moan again, so much so that your hands have begun to fumble with his button up without you realizing. “I want to make you feel good, doctor…”

undressing him always to the halfway mark, you seem to get too excited in the final stretch, and leave the last few buttons on his shirt near his navel, instead you sicced yourself upon the expanse of his chest, barren of hair or marks, but not for long. in short time, you’ve left your signature all over him— deep reddish bruising in the shape of your kiss, and each time, he seemed to make that same, strangled sound.

but it wasn’t enough.

your hands work faster than your mind, gripping his belt and unbuckling it, before working on his slacks. then, they both delve into the entryway provided and seek the warm, thick muscle you know to be there. he isn’t yet hard, but that doesn’t matter to you, one hand tugs at his garments, shimmying them down on to his thighs whilst the other grips his cock and starts to pump. you gaze down long enough to push a drizzle of spit from your lips and on to his exposed sex, and you moan out loud at the perfection of him.

sparse, blonde pubic hair creates a soft bed for his girthy cock, which was flaccid, but still surprisingly impressive. it twitched against your palm as you smear the saliva over it, taking extra time to tease the rosy slit.

“Gggh…”

your eyes flicker upwards again, to see how Nanami’s expression has changed as you stroke him. his thin brows knit closer together, and his arms lay at each side, fingers twitching as if he were looking to grab on to something.

“Such a scary scowl…” you whisper, pumping him harder between your bodies as you nuzzle your face in his chest. your knuckles bump against your own belly as you press as close to him as possible, feeling his cock getting harder and harder, the head swelling, jabbing upwards demanding your attention, “but you got hard so easily, you must be so frustrated.” you could feel your stomach bunching into knots the harder that he got, your cunt already clenching around air still trapped in your damp panties, as if the anticipation of feeling him in your guts all but overwhelming you. “I’m frustrated, too,” you whine, your mouth trailing back up over his chest. this time, you snag his nipple between your teeth, and tease the bud, watching how the muscle pads in his abdomen seemed to contract as his breathing got heavier. after a moment, you allow it to pop free from your mouth and you ease yourself up, reaching under your skirt with one hand, you hook your svelte digits around your panties and pull them to one side, wiggling your hips until you’re hovering directly above his waiting cock. “You’ll fix it for me, won’t you, doctor?” it’s a soft, needy croon, before you sink down, slowly.

the initial stretch as his cock head spears your folds has you hissing, dropping your head back. “S—so big,” you mewl. once he was nestled and secured with his tip wedged into your fluttering canal, both of your hands grapple at his broad shoulders for support, instead. “Nanami…!” it was the first time you’d ever called him by his name, but you didn’t even realize. you were much more concerned with how full you were of him already, and a brief glance downward at the join of your bodies let you know that there were plenty of inches left to go. with a soft whimper, you nuzzle your face into his neck and start to bounce, slow at first, letting your body get fully acquainted with his solid cock. “Fuuuck,” you whine, into his skin, rocking your hips harder. faster. you were taking more of him, your thighs making a wet sound as they smack against his lap, but you couldn’t slow down. you couldn’t stop. “You feel good, Nanami! Your cock feels good!”

Nanami moans, and the sound rumbles from his chest, bubbling up to his throat and then leaking out of his parted lips as his eyes seem to roll around behind fluttering lids. he was too wasted to fully wake up, and you assumed that even if he came around, he wouldn’t be able to register what exactly you were doing to him. his cheeks are much redder now, his breathing coming out in furious, little puffs as his head lolls against the back of the sofa. “Uh… hhuhh… hhh… ggggnnn….”

you couldn’t pretend his struggling pleasure sounds weren’t getting you off, nor could you deny the feeling of his cock twitching in your belly, and you wrap both arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to his torso. you smear your clothed body over his haphazardly undressed one, riding him hard and deep. your thighs were starting to feel sore, but it was a dull ache that you could ignore for a while longer, because there was a churning in your belly. a familiar bubbling. the bulging veins that laced his sturdy cock were massaging your spongy nerve clusters, the swollen head spearing into sensitive territory, and you were swooning— close to the edge, your own eyes threatening to roll back in your head.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you, Nanami?” you purr, close to his ear, before you nibble on it. the throbbing had gotten all the more intense, stirring your insides, and even his hips had started to twitch, now, his face contorted in subconscious pleasure. “Oh, god, please… please cum in me, Nanami…! I need to know what it feels like— to be filled up by you! It’ll make me cum, too!”

you knew he couldn’t hear you, or at the very least, he couldn’t respond, but his body seemed to react. as you slammed down, relentlessly fucking him, your walls clenching tight around him. you were determined to milk him for all he was worth, and that’s exactly what you did.

the first spurt catches you off guard. as you sit flush on his lap, relishing the way his tip kisses your cervix, you feel a surprising warmth sinking in. your eyes widen, and you groan, hugging closer to him. “A—Nanami— cum… cum in me!” more splattering follows, flooding your womb as you cry out, hoarse and happy, grinding your hips forward to work him around inside of you to tease your own, trembling body into cumming right along with him.

you unravel shortly after, your belly full and tender, and you pant, thighs trembling, kissing every inch of his exposed neck up towards his jaw, and over to his mouth. “Mmm…” you croon, when you start to come around, and begrudgingly slip from his lap. your knees almost buckle, and you gasp, having to push both hands against his chest to steady yourself. a dribble of his release oozes from your spasming hole and trickles down your thigh. once you’re stabilized, one hand reaches down to push your panties back in place, keeping any more of his spunk from leaking out, but your fingers trace the essence that escaped, and bring it to your face. you stare at the sticky, white webs, and then to Nanami’s sleeping form. you smile, mischievously, and pushes your fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste good, too, doctor.” you purr, now running your free hand’s fingers through unruly peach tendrils. his breathing has slowed back to normal, but he still looked a mess. his clothes half off, and his used cock laying against his belly, soft and dripping his cum and your juices, and the flesh of his chest and neck littered with hickeys. “Maybe next time Geto and Gojo get you plastered, I’ll suck you off instead.”

[fayes-fics]

Reunited

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: When Benedict returns from a few days away, he has some very specific demands...

Gif credit: @captainbucky-yt (used with permission)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub dynamics, DD/LG play, daddydom!Benedict, blindfolds, hairpulling, dirty talk, smidges of nipple play and spanking, vaginal sex, restraint (wrist binding).

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Another smut roulette sprint that grew legs. I ended up writing it over 5 separate half-hour sprints. The roulette wheel gave me the writing prompt: "Spread your legs for Daddy; I want to see you." This is a married couple playing together. Unbetaed filth. Enjoy? <3

“Stay, little one,” he commands, a rich chuckle in his voice as you whine.

At least the crackling fire warms your flank, the thick rug under your knees plush, sitting on your haunches submissively, blindfolded, naked, awaiting instruction.

He is sitting in his wingback chair, not far away. Or at least you think he is based on the sounds you hear: the clink of the stopper on his crystal decanter, the pour of liquor into a heavy tumbler, the strike of a match and the earthy scent of cigar smoke tendrils snaking in the air.

“Daddy, please touch me,” you pout.

He has been away for five days, and you have missed him terribly. When he swept into the house fifteen minutes ago, he dismissed the household staff for the evening, stalked into the drawing room where you were happily reading, kissed you and gave you your codeword with a challenging glint in his eye. Instantly, you were stripping and obeying, only too keen to play your special game. Panting as he tied a blindfold carefully over your face. But now he hasn't touched you since. You squirm, feeling yourself already so aroused. 

“Hmm, no, I think I will enjoy the view a while longer….” his counterpoint echoing into his drink as he takes another sip - his voice a velvet tease, knowing you can feel his stare on your skin, watching your body as you flex, breasts tingling, pussy wet.

“I have been a good little girl,” you are trying to entice him. Goad him into getting up and coming to you. Even if it’s only to drag you by your hair to sit in his lap.

He huffs bemused. “Have you now? What does that entail?”

“I have not touched myself since you left,” you sigh, feeling your pussy clench at the mere mention. It's not true, but you think he’ll appreciate the sentiment.

“That's a complete lie,” he barks a laugh, and the leather chair creaks as he seems to stand. “Do you know how I know?” he adds, the thud of his riding boots seeming so loud on the rug as he approaches. 

“No,” you breathe, tilting your head naturally to where you think he towers over you even though you can't see him.

There is a scent of woodsy cologne, cigars and something that is all Benedict as he bends down, breath gusting hot in your ear. “Because you would have made a mess of my rug by now,” he whispers hotly, “just dripping at the sound of my voice, would you not?” A large hand clamps around the back of your neck, and you gasp. “I asked a question…” he adds pointedly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answer instantly, attempting to pitch forward and nuzzle against his thigh, but he holds you in place firmly near the base of your scalp. “I am sorry I lied.”

“That is alright,” he mollifies. “I did not instruct you to refrain from touching yourself this time, so you are forgiven, little girl. But you do need to do one thing in recompense.”

“Anything….” you exhale shakily as he releases his grip, pouting as he seems to return to his chair.

“Lay on your back and spread your legs for Daddy; I want to see you. All of you,” he orders, hearing him take another drag on the cigar, tapping it upon his ashtray.

Scrambling to obey as best you can without sight, the wool rug tickles your shoulder blades as you recline. Pulling your feet up close to your bottom, shoulder-width apart, taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the throb in your clit, the need to touch it so great.

“Wider!” 

You instantly shuffle your ankles further apart, allowing your knees to fall to either side, spread obscenely wide now, feeling the stretch in your inner thighs.

“Good girl,” he soothes. 

The room feels so quiet again, just the hiss and crackle of the logs in the fireplace, the tick of the carriage clock on the mantle and the occasional sound of him taking a drink or puff. After what feels like an eternity, you plead quietly for him. He doesn't respond. Almost as if he is ignoring you, but you know he is not. Know he is watching you intently, likely a lopsided victorious smirk on his handsome face as he takes another sip, eyes raking your skin, taking in every minute detail of your arousal and revelling in your discomfort.

The waiting is the very worst part. Butterflies behind your ribs and a dull ache in your pelvis that needs him. You know how much he gets off on this - watching you, knowing how aroused you are but unable to do anything but whine and plead and beg. You feel your pussy clench around nothing as your mind floods with images of what you want him to be doing, and you squirm as you feel a drop of moisture leak from yourself and run down your bottom cheek.

“I knew you would make a mess of my rug eventually, little girl,” his clear voice ringing out almost startles you after being quiet for so long. “Such a wanton thing, aren’t you?’

“Only for my Daddy,” you assure.

There is a rash of movement, and you gasp again as he suddenly looms over you, likely on all fours, the ruffles of his shirt teasing your puffed nipples, the tickish wool of his britches rubbing your inner thighs, as his brandy-sweetened breath puffs over your face.

“Am I not just the luckiest man alive to have such a sinful, naughty little girl all to myself?” his ask is rhetorical, the flattery making your heart speed up, hopeful that he will take mercy and finally touch you.

“I am the lucky one, Daddy,” you fawn, lifting your hips off the carpet to rub yourself shamelessly into his crotch, delighted to feel a touch of heated bulge there before a large hand wraps around your hip and pushes you back down forcefully, pinning you flat again.

“Behave!” he warns.

“Or what, Dadddy? Will you spank me?” Unable to resist being insolent with him, knowing how much he loves you acting feisty.

“You would enjoy that far too much, you vixen,” tone affectionate, dryly amused.

The hand moves from your hip, and you pant as it travels upwards. It's a firm stroke that has your belly rippling and breath catching in your lungs. Trailing higher, you cry out as suddenly two strong knuckles wrap on either side of your left nipple and tug hard. You hiss as he squeezes tighter, that ache in your cunt growing stronger; he knows how much an edge of pain makes you even more heated.

“I hear there are decorative nipple clamps in Paris,” he recounts casually as you writhe and moan in his continued hold. “I think my little one would look so pretty dripping in jewels. Don't you?”

Your agreement is a hiss between ragged breaths, a zinging in your clit now from the ache in your breast. Just as the pain becomes a tart metallic taste in your mouth, he lets go, and you stutter and sink back into the carpet, a delicious throb in your pebbled nipple, knowing it is darkened and swollen from his treatment.

“And guess what else they do, little one?” he goads, the hand sweeping back down over your diaphragm, making a beeline for where you want him most.

“Tell me, Daddy….” you beseech, head following the sound of his voice as he seems to swing over your leg and settle on your left side, pressing his erection into your hip and rutting slightly.

You cry out as that hand grasps your labia and tugs on your clit hard. “They do a clamp for your pretty pearl down here, little girl,” he lectures, his thighs ensnaring around your left leg to hold you down and open to his slightly rough treatment.

“Please….” it’s a request for anything really: the jewelled clamps, his fingers to sink into you and assuage the ache you feel, his kiss… whatever he will allow.

He releases his hold, and you whimper, eyelashes fluttering hard against your blindfold, chest rising and falling rapidly, on tenterhooks for what he will do next.

“I so enjoy watching you like this,” he confesses, nuzzling your hairline. “My lustful little one just dripping nectar for me. You would do anything right now, would you not? Anything I told you,” his tone dripping with pride.

“I am yours, Daddy, to do as you wish,” you avow, a want to submit, please him, thrumming hard in your veins.

“That’s right,” he breathes, his lips hot on your temple. “Now be a good girl and roll over.”

Your stomach clenches as you flip over onto your belly, the rug abrading your hardened nipples as he rounds behind you and harshly pulls your hips up high, shuffling your knees forward so you are at a steep angle.

“Keep your head down, my girl,” he warns, your cheekbone catching on the wool fibres as you pant in anticipation, feeling the back of his hand brush your bottom, him fighting open the buttons on his britches. 

You cry out as he spears into your body harshly, your walls stretching around his invading cock, fingers sinking into the deep pile beneath you, seeking purchase, as you revel in his hearty groan and curse.

“Fuck I have missed your ripe, tight, soaked cunt,” he exhales raggedly, his large hands clutching your hips as he withdraws slowly and then plunges forward, your calves raising from the floor with the force.

Then he is setting a punishing pace, his hipbones digging into your bottom with each thrust. Your eyes roll shut, letting your forehead sink into the rug, uncaring of the chafing there, his mounting harsh and unforgiving, precisely what you have been craving. A yen to be marked by this, by his actions.

“Who do you belong to?” he snaps, raising a hand and spanking possessively across your bottom as you moan loudly.

“You, Daddy,” you clamour, uncaring if any staff hear you. They could watch for all you care right now - stand in the doorway, seeing him almost fully clothed with you naked, hips high, face down, blindfolded and taking his cock deep as you drip down your thighs for him. In fact, just that illicit thought has you clenching around him, his cock feeling huge as he growls at the slick contraction, his movements becoming even rougher, another firm spank that makes you howl, his fingers digging into your cheek, prolonging the sting.

Then he stops, holding still buried so deep it almost aches, missing the drag of every contour when he moves, tilting your pelvis in a silent request for more.

“Don't move, my girl,” he warns, grasping your hipbones. 

You stay still, moaning lightly, desperate for some friction on your pulsing clit to push you towards ecstasy.

“Please, Daddy…” you appeal mutely, muffled into the rug.

“I love it when you beg for me,” he admits, hands running covetously around the swell of your bottom and then sweeping up your back. He leans forward over your spine, those shirt ruffles tickling your shoulder blades this time. 

You hiss as he grabs your hair, twisting it in his grip, a tingle on your scalp as he leverages you upright, teething the shell of your ear.

“I wish I could stay right here forever,” his voice a hot whisper. “Buried to the root inside my little girl as she cries for more. If I could die anywhere, this is where I want to be. You, your surrender, your tight slick cunt gripping me, your wanton breathy pleas. ‘Tis as if heaven is on earth.”

His filthy poetry has you panting as a hand slips from grasping your hair around to your throat. He pulls you both upright, you bowing back into him, wishing he was naked like you so you could feel the heat of his flesh on yours, leaning into that broad chest.

Then he starts to move again, thrusting slowly, the hand around your throat tightening so he can feel the vibration in your windpipe as you moan loudly for him. His other hand questing into your folds, catching your clit.

“Come on, my sweet little girl, give it to me,” he tutors, open-mouthed, teeth grazing your cheekbone.

Already wound so tight with arousal - since he walked in, really - it doesn’t take much to have you babbling mindlessly, spiralling that abyss, taking each thrust with a loud moan as his fingers rub in a brisk motion.

“That’s it,” his buttery voice a contract to the almost punishing grip on your throat as you start to fracture around him, rippling on his thrusting cock, a wave of ecstasy crashing inside, fanning out to every cell. Dimly, you hear him heaping praise upon you, groaning loudly, but it's quiet behind the rush of blood in your ears, going limp and pliant in his strong hold, your muscles tensing and releasing.

“Did I do well, Daddy?” You drawl, drowsy and sated.

“Yes, little girl,” he coos, kissing your ear. “That felt amazing, But I’m not done with you yet….”

It’s then you realise he has not come, still rock hard inside you as aftershocks quake your being. Without withdrawing, he bears you down onto the rug, arranging so you lay face down, placing his clothed knees on either side of your thighs and squeezing your legs together. A thump of clothing hits the carpet as he discards his jacket and waistcoat. You breathe heavily as he rocks gently into you, your mind resetting, realising this is just a reprieve. 

“Hands behind your back, little girl,” a clipped decree. 

Without thought, you heed the order, feeling a soft, silky material wrap around your wrists, knowing instinctually it's the cravat from his neck. It is one of his favourite ways to restrain you, you being bound in his clothing, his scent, something primal. He places your bound hands in the small of your back, and then his shirt sails to the floor. He is left in his woollen britches and boots as he leans over you again; you sigh contentedly as his bare skin brushes your spine, a radiating warmth you want to burrow into.

In this position, your thighs squeezed together, hips tilted, laying facedown on the rug, hands bound, you are entirely at his mercy. And you know he is not going to be slow or gentle. He is going to be rough and carnal, chasing his pleasure as you have had yours. Bated breath as you await his next move, reigniting the molten fire, clit throbbing.

Warm hands wrap around your shoulders for leverage as he settles over you, and then you stutter as he withdraws and drives in hard, your whole body rolling, this position allowing him the deepest penetration.

“Oh my god, Daddy…” you splutter, feeling a pressure behind your ribs from his weight pinioning you.

“Take it, little one…” he counsels, his breath hot in your hair. 

Pleasure grows with the harsh snap of his hips, your hands pinned into the small of your back, his abdominals pressing into your thumbs with each stroke. He moves faster, pounding now, your skin blooming darker where the rug chafes your body, but it is secondary to the onslaught, feeling yourself notching higher as he steadfastly pursues his pleasure.

“Touch me please, Daddy,” you mewl, knowing you can come again with a modicum of stimulation.

“Is my greedy little girl ready again?” he gusts, panting hard.

“Yes, please,” you appeal, trying to twist your head to meet his eye pleadingly.

With a gruff noise, a hand roughly worms its way under your left hip and ploughs into your slit again. It's like a lightning bolt through you; instantly, you are screaming. His other hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, his hips never wavering in their rhythm.

“Shhh, little one”, he chastises, even as you can hear the pride behind his words that he can do this to you. “You do not wish to alarm the neighbours, surely?”

You shake your head as you whimper, muffled into his palm, unable to keep silent as you spiral so high so fast, almost dizzying. Take heaving breaths through your nose as his nose is pressed into your scalp, huffing hard, taking you so hard now he grunts with every thrust.

Then you are freefalling again, crying out and drooling against his fingers as this time you pull him with you, the constriction on his cock milking him of every drop as he cries your name and stills, that trademark warmth blooming deep inside. Spasms cause him to rut into you a few more times before he collapses to one side, considerate not to crush you.

The room echoes with your panted breaths as you both recover. Benedict pulls you into his arms, arranging you in an enveloping hug, his hands swirling delicate, intricate patterns on your dewy skin as the fire roars beside you.

“Welcome home, husband,” you sigh contentedly after a restful beat, nuzzling into his neck, tasting the salty tang of his exertions.

“Thank you, darling wife, I have missed you so very, very much. Thank you for this,” his tone is heartfelt, holding your face and planting a chaste kiss on your lips, his kind eyes dancing in the flamelight.

“Anytime, my love, anytime.” Your offer is sincere, revelling in the fulfilment and peace your playtime brings. "We should always be reunited thus.”

He chuckles and shoots you a look of pure devotion. “Indeed we should…”

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[delirious-donna]

Hiromi stood by the window; his jacket and tie were discarded by the couch, and his white shirt wrinkled and creased from the stresses of the day. It made you pause in the doorway, your steps lightening so as not to alert him to your presence.

There was no noise except for the continuous pitter-patter of the rain. It drummed against the slate roof overhead, tinkled against the windows and formed ever-growing puddles in the divets of the street below. Your umbrella had saved you from the worst of it. Head down and focused on your footsteps, you hadn’t taken any enjoyment in navigating the pools of water that were not taken care of by the drains along the road, yet right now… it felt different.

Hiromi was framed by the open window in your living room, leaning against the sill with the sleeves of his shirt rolled back to his elbows and a cigarette dangerously close to being extinguished by the droplets falling steadily to the ground. The tobacco mingled with the petrichor, muted by the earthy aroma to a more pleasant level that had you inhaling deeply as you stepped closer. Your lungs filled with the magic of nature despite being deep in suburban Tokyo, but what drew you in was him.

A white haze surrounded him, one that called out to you and spun playful tendrils around your wrists to pull you close. Perhaps it was a manifestation of what you had fallen for all those years earlier, or maybe it was simply in your head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your heart sped up and your body instinctively reached out for the solace that only he could provide. Hiromi was your haven, your nirvana. This may be your home but that home was truly wherever he was and you didn’t think he knew that—somehow that only made it all the more true.

Your arms encircled his waist, the cooler air brushing against your skin like a lover’s caress, and your head rested on his shoulder. Tension leaked out, his muscles relaxing and shifting until his breathing evened, and he placed a sturdy hand atop your own. For a while you both stood there; unspeaking yet baring your souls, unmoving but travelling together. The embers from his cigarette flared one last time before flickering out, spent.

“How long have you been standing here?” You asked, at last, breaking the spell of silence and hurtling you both back into the here and now.

“Hm… long enough.” His tone was light, jovial even, and you squeezed around his waist until he gave a small wriggle of protest.

“Long enough to watch your umbrella bob past. I wasn’t sure why you didn’t say something when you got home, but this is nice,” he conceded.

“I was admiring you, Hiro. Hardly a crime for a woman to admire her husband, is it?”

Hiromi snorted and turned slowly to envelop you against his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart, smell the fading scent of his cologne and you rubbed your nose into the stiff fabric covering his chest.

“Not one that I think would stand up in court,” he teased, his nose buried deep in your hair.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“True, but I’ll admit that I’d much rather have you here, in my arms, where you belong… than in a courtroom. They can be awfully stuffy.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Oh ho! I’m stuffy now, am I? Well then, I guess I’ll see you in court you—you… husband ogler.”

At that, laughter bubbled up and out. Frothing and eager to fill the room with your humour. You could feel Hiromi’s body judder with the want to join in, only subdued by the bite of his lip. His warm brown eyes fixed upon you as you lifted a hand to cup his jaw and teased your fingertips over the scrape of stubble adorning his cheeks and chin.

“I’m home,” you sighed wistfully.

Hiromi smiled, leaning back to feel stray raindrops land amongst the peppering of greys in his thick black head of hair. The petrichor intensified as if heralded by your declaration, the setting sun breaking through the grey clouds to dapple your bodies in an amber glow. All was right in the world and he felt lucky to be able to say that with conviction.

“Welcome home, my love.”

an: I saw this beautiful piece of art by @kanashiki79 and they were kind enough to allow me to draw inspiration from it for the above. I guess I was in a bit of a sappy mood for Hiro today, but who could blame me?

[ghost-proofbaby]

you mentioned summer storms with Eddie or something one day in a random post and I haven't stopped thinking about it so

can I get a midsummer's night with LOTS of 🍓🍓🍓🍓 about that? Thank you very much Ghost 💞

OH I'VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE!!!! it took on a life of it's own, forgive me.

summer storms

warnings: honestly just tooth-rottingly cheesy. tried to add alllll the fluff. not edited.

wc: 1.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

It was your favorite part of the summer. You couldn’t stand the heat half the time, you couldn’t bear all the bugs that would make their arrival known through incessant bites you’d only notice after spending the day out, and you could cry at even the simple memory of every sunburn you’ve ever endured in your lifetime. There was a lot to hate about the summertime – but this? This was one of the good parts.

The moment you’d seen the ominous clouds on the horizon, you’d known where your night was going to end up. One howl of the wind against your living room window, and you knew your plans for the night. 

All roads led to the Forest Hills trailer park when the summer storms started rolling in. 

In your youth, all through high school, there’d been plenty of scoldings about how the trailer park isn’t the safest place during these storms, dear. Endless lectures on how you and your solace in the form of a best friend should just spend those stormy nights at your own house, inside sturdy walls and within an infallible AC. But they didn’t get it; there was something in the way you’d experience a storm at the Munson trailer that couldn’t compare to home. 

“It’s so hot,” Eddie whines from where he stretches out on his bed, all windows thrown wide open to let the dusty and humid winds slip their way in. Petrichor and discount cologne was swirling around you, wrapping its tendrils around your ankles and wrists alike as you were starfished out on the surprisingly cleaned bedroom floor of Eddie Munson. 

He’d spent the day embarking on his weekly cleaning spree – you’d spent the day holed up in Melvard’s for an unbearingly long shift. 

“I wish it’d just rain already,” you murmur, turning your head to catch a glimpse out the open window. The sky was a mirage of deep tones, rusted oranges laced with all the dirt being kicked up by the winds and navy blues painting the clouds that had built up to hold all the moisture adding to the smothering heat, “At least then all this misery would be worth it.”

Eddie sits up only to throw himself onto his stomach, head hanging over the edge of the mattress to smile down at you, “Wanna bet on how long it’ll take?”

“Take to what?”

“Rain, dumbass.” 

“Don’t call me a dumbass, asshat. How was I supposed to know what you-”

You’re cut off by the sound of rolling thunder, coming in waves along with a particularly strong gust of wind that makes all of Eddie’s posters whip against the walls they were pinned to. It’s enough to shut you both up as the echoes of the entire trailer rattling surround you. 

��Jesus,” Eddie whistles lowly, head lifting up to look outside for a few moments. When his eyes return to yours, they're full of mischief. “Fuck the bet, wanna race?” 

“Eddie, start being more specific, or fuck off,” you groan just as he leaps up, hopping off his bed with unexpected speed. 

All he cries out over his shoulder as lightning strikes in the sky waiting outside is, “Loser has to wash a load of Wayne’s jeans!” 

That gets you up. Not because you wouldn’t do it if Wayne asked nicely, and not because you were going to let Eddie make you do so, but simply to further chastise the boy now running away from you. 

The first droplets of rain begin to fall before either of you make it out of the trailer front door. 

Eddie only loses due to him slipping while passing by the kitchen, socked feet gliding out from beneath him until he grabs onto the counter hastily to prevent any injury. You pass him with a wide smile, yanking the door open hard enough that if Wayne had been home, he probably would have had a few choice words to say to you. 

But Wayne isn’t home. It’s just you and Eddie, the boy who makes summertime an endless brew of storms in your chest and mind alike, and the rain. 

You fly down the rickety porch steps of the Munson’s trailer just as you’ve done a hundred times before, Eddie just behind you. Neither of you make a deciding comment on who won; you’d been outside first, but Eddie’s feet hit the dirt properly just as yours did when he decided to jump right over the steps you were trampling down. 

It’s all wild joy and childish wonder as the two of you begin to run about and spin around beneath the droplets that have picked up into a downpour. Eddie’s hands find your wrist, and he’s throwing you about with him, making you dizzy with absolute giddiness as gravity drags you in a wide circle. Your Melvard’s polo soaks through to the bone. Eddie’s curls begin to stick to his cheeks. 

Neither of you care. 

A childlike exuberance, and youthful oblivion, that you only ever feel with Eddie. You don’t think you would have let anyone else drag you out into the middle of a storm with such ease. But it’s hard to say no to him when there’s so much happiness fizzing beneath your skin, and you’re pretty sure all the thundering actually belongs to your chest as you feel his fingertips press deeper into your wrists. 

You’ve loved him for a while now. Always have, always will. 

It happens in slow motion. You swear somewhere between the crackling of the lightning and his crinkling eyes, you can see his lips forming the words, you’re pretty. 

You didn’t hear it, though. Couldn’t have over the water clogging your ears. 

“What?” you call out, leaning forward with all your giggles, trying to ignore the feeling of your bare feet sinking into the mud below. 

Eddie just pulls you forward, and over another gust of wind that makes you both shiver, says it once more with his whole chest, “I said you’re pretty!”

You’re not. You’re really, really not. You’re a mess. Wet hair and slick skin, bleary eyes and aching smiles. Probably closer resembling a drowning rat than anything poetic or worth yelling to the sky about. 

But not to Eddie, not as he looks to the sky, and all he can do is laugh at himself. 

“I’m not pretty-” you start to laugh back, shaking your head at his foolishness. 

“You are,” he interrupts quickly, his hand only leaving your skin long enough to brush back his damp bangs, exposing a forehead you’d certainly thought about kissing on more than one occasion. Running his fingers through curls you’ve tried to find every excuse in the books to play with. Scrunching up his nose that you’d pictured pressed into your neck in the dead of night numerous times as the two of you slept peacefully. “You really fucking are. It’s a damn crime, half the time, too. Always taking my breath away and shit.” 

You don’t know what spurred it all on. The petrichor that had lingered in the air, the feeling of the rain on his skin, the comfort of the storm and its promise of a night spent together. But his confessions are rolling out faster than the drips racing down the windows of his trailer, and he’s looking at you with big brown eyes, and all you really know is that it doesn’t matter what spurred it all on.

All that matters is he’s said it. 

“Do something about it, then,” you gasp out.

You’re almost worried the storm has carried the words away, that he hasn’t heard you, until he does something. 

He kisses you, and it tastes just like the rain. Your favorite part of summer.

[live-laugh-lenney]

housewarming makeout - arthurtv.

hello. hello. hello.

i've been in dire need of some arthurtv content and fics and i can't seem to find very much on tumblr so i thought i'd write my own in hopes that it would help me out with all my feels.

let me know what you think.

any comments are much appreciated at the moment. thank you so much!

*

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Where’s YN?”

The two synchronised questions came from outside the storage cupboard in George Clarke’s flat where, at that moment, Arthur had YN held in the confined space between his body and the wall. Darkness swallowed them as they relied solely on the sense of touch to guide them, adding a whole new sensation deep in the tummies, never knowing where the next touch would be. His hair was tousled and sticking in all directions from the way her hands magnetised to his scalp, her ponytail having come loose with tendrils drooping down by her cheeks and catching between their lips from her lipstick which, in the backs of their minds, would be smeared across their mouths. The overshirt, pink and stripy and something that she’d paired with a white bodysuit and a pair of ripped jeans, had fallen and exposed the bare skin of her shoulder and he’d taken full advantage of that, peppering the softest kisses down the crevice of her neck and down the stretch of her collarbone. His lips were swollen from pressing kisses to the expanse of her neck, to her collarbone to her shoulder, and her chest rising and falling rapidly from the rather intense make-out session they had previously been in just seconds ago. 

His plan to leave a mark of his love coming to a halt, their eyes widening, as they realised they were being looked for after having snuck away from the housewarming party George had thrown that evening to delve into something that was a rather common occurrence for the two of them whenever they were together. 

“Arthur-” 

He shushed her, hand tight to her mouth, as he focused on listening to the muffled voices of their friends discussing their whereabouts, just centimeters from the closed door that kept them hidden from the curious eyes looking for them. One voice belonging to George Clarke and the other voice belonging to Christopher Dixon who, just a mere ten minutes ago, was in an in depth conversation with YN about a video idea he was a little skeptical over. One that she’d been happy to be a part of, if necessary, because she loved a shoot when all of them came together for something to be broadcast for a weekly video (no matter whose channel it was going on) and had fun and filmed every moment that happened - and she was all for helping her friends out.

“I only went to go and get a drink from the kitchen and she’d disappeared by the time I came back.”

“Arthur said he was going to the toilet, snuck out the room, but- but I’ve just been to check in there and no one was there.” 

“Do you-”

“Do I think they’ve finally decided to just shag? Coincidence that they both disappeared, if not.”

“George, fucking-”

She was thankful for the darkness in the cupboard as heat rose up the back of her neck and flushed over the expanse of her cheeks, taking in a deep inhale and blowing it back out, her breath hitting Arthur’s clothed shoulder on the exhale. She shuffled on her feet and the motion had her chest brushing against his, accidentally… well, that’s what she would have excused, anyway.

“YN, seriously-”

“What?”

She could feel his breath over her warm skin and she really thought he’d moved away from her in the terror of getting caught, like a deer in headlights, but he hadn’t. He was still there, the scent of his cologne and beer mixing together and making him seem even more delectable to her, and she had a longing in the depths of her belly that just wanted him more and more. A slither of hope that they would just walk away, get back into the midst of the party, and agree that the two of them would be back out when they were ready to show their faces.

But she knew that was pretty much unlikely.

Especially with Chris. Especially with George.

“Do you want to get caught?”

She shakes her head erratically but she felt sudden stupidity when she realised Arthur couldn’t see her gesture, “no.”

“The tension between the two of them tonight, man. Almost felt like we should have forced them into a room to fuck..”

His hands tightened around YN’s waist at the comment and his fingertips dug into the bare skin of her hips, pulling her closer to him, a twinge of electricity shooting up her back as she nestled closer into his front. The urge becoming too much and she let her lips attach to his neck as her fingers combed through the hair at the back of his neck, twisting the strands between her digits and giving them a gentle tug every now and then, his breathing becoming more tense. Licking up the length of his neck, tasting every inch of him, and dragging her lips, soft and gentle enough that it felt like a tickle, as she left a long line of kisses beneath his jaw. 

“Jesus, YN.”

His gentle whimpering only spurred her on, seeing just how far she could take it before enough felt like enough… challenge accepted, she thought to herself, as she kissed up to his ear and nibbled against his earlobe. 

“Do you think they know that we know they have a thing going on?”

“Honestly, they seem oblivious to what everyone else thinks. Their own world. They’re not subtle about hiding it. He practically eye-fucked her as soon as she walked through my door earlier.”

“I mean, she looked incredible tonight though.”

The conversing voices seemed to sound more and more distant as the atmosphere became more and more intense within the four walls of the cupboard. Their worries disappeared for just a moment as he grabbed her face in the palm of his hands and indulged in a kiss that really did make them forget where they were for a while. Back in his flat, both of them drunk on double whiskeys and coke, having spent the night trying to divert their eyes from one another, without a care in the world about being caught. 

They thrived on being mysterious. 

There was an underlying kink neither of them wanted to dwell on - if they had a chance of getting caught then it added to the excitement and it became a thrill of knowing their secret could be blown by the off chance of them being clumsy.

And, upon searching for a bit of leverage in the darkness to hoist her up onto, like a shelf or the top of a column of cardboard boxes that George had yet to unpack in his flat, Arthur had forgotten their drinks that they had placed on top of one of his suitcases in their haste to close the door and start something they’d been longing to do since the start of the housewarming get together. His cautious yet wandering hands knocking both his bottle of Corona and her pink gin and lemonade onto the floor, the thud causing the conversation outside to come to a halt and their bodies to freeze on the spot. 

“Shit.”

“Arthur, for fucks sake.”

“What was that?”

“Did you hear that?”

“What have you got in there? Rats, already?”

“It’s a storage cupboard. I’ve put my unpacked cases and boxes in there because I didn’t have time to pack it all away before you guys came tonight.”

And Arthur and YN didn’t need to see the faces of their friends to know that they’d clocked on. That they’d been caught, mid make-out, mid-party. YN’s head dropped to his shoulder and his head fell against hers, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as her hands dropped from around his neck and fell down to her side, stroking his arms in the process. 

“Wait-”

“We can’t go in there..”

“Why not? We need to-”

“He’s probably balls deep in her right now, George. Do you really want to see that? I don’t.”

She snorted into his shoulder and rolled her eyes, his head shaking from side to side, a smile on his own lips, hands still holding her waist. 

“We should probably face the music, right?” She whispered into the darkness, “might as well get it over and done with, embrace the awkwardness.”

“Just a little while longer? Just me and you. Once we step outside of here, we’re not a secret to them any longer. We can't sneak around after this,” Arthur responded, tightening his hold on her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder, hugging her close to his body, “we’re public to those divvies after that door opens. Just wanna enjoy you, to myself, for five more minutes.”

“You two are the least subtle people I’ve ever met.”

“At least make yourselves look like you’ve not just had a quickie. I don’t want to be known as the Tiktoker who lets his mates bang in his cupboard.”

“Go away, George,” Arthur called out, a laugh muffled by the door filling the awkward silence, “fuck.”

*

-- ynyln just posted --

YNYLN; happy housewarming @georgeclarkeey !! always the best time when celebrating with these lot. heads pounding this morning. all the fucking love, guys. xx georgeclarkeey  thank you for being there. always the best time celebrating when you’re around, lovely. even if you did go for a make-out sesh in my storage closet. and spilled beer all over my possessions.

arthurnfhill I'm simply amazed they haven't clocked on that we know what's happening. -> ynyln we do now. -> arthurtv @ylyln It was fun whilst it lasted. -> ynyln @arthurtv damn. i loved our time together. -> arthurtv @ynyln At least we can kiss in public now. Want one? -> ynyln @arthurtv come over now then... doors open. -> arthurnfhill Please don't flirt in my replies.

chrismd10  i mean, you spent most of your time celebrating with a game of tonsil tennis whilst the rest of us where celebrating with a game of with beer pong… 👀

fan01  make-out session? in a storage closet? you go, girl!

arthurtv  Somehow, house parties always end with you spilling my drink. You owe me. → ynyln  you owe me a drink, too. → georgeclarkeey  you owe me a new suitcase. and new clothes. and my carpet needs cleaning. → ynyln  @georgeclarkeey i’m sorry. :((( → arthurtv  @georgeclarkeey I take full responsibility. My fault. → chrismd10  @arthurtv always your fault. for being so god damn irresistible, am i right? 😉

fan02  hold on for a damn minute.. spilling their drinks, ‘tonsil tennis’, george's possessions getting soaked in beer, a make-out session in a closet… i’m not sherlock or anything but… are we getting boyfriend!arthur content?

fan03  i’m telling you now, yn and arthur will be together by the end of the year. i’m getting the whole boyfriend-girlfriend vibe just through this interaction.

fan04 they've all just soft-launched arthur and yn being 'together' and i am HERE FOR IT.

fan05 we love a duo who promote secret shag sessions. gotta do what you gotta do.

*

if you got this far, thank you so much for reading!

please let me know what you think of this story. not the best when it comes to thinking up ideas so it would mean a whole lot to me if you left your comments and reblogged to help spread it.

it's my first fic i've written in a long, long while so i really hope it'll help get me back in the game. i really want to start being here more regularly.

ask box is always open so don't hesitate to send anything in, day or night. x

[konigbabe]

mosaic of us

Pairing: plaga!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word count: 6k

Tags/warnings: smut; no y/n; infected Leon (las plagas); p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; rough sex; creampie; manhandling; Leon's a menace and this is yet another pure filth

Summary: Hidden in the village, Leon's condition keeps deteriorating; somehow, his kiss seems to ignite something deep inside you. Something primal — savage in its roots.

A/N: Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. R is for rough sex.

I sincerely apologize for this mess. Divider is mine.

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You notice the veins around his eyes growing more prominent, twisting and pulsing like roots searching for water. It’s as if something inside him is struggling to break free from its confines, a dangerous force waiting to be unleashed. With a sudden jerk, Leon looks up at you with an intense fervor; the sclera now twisted into a sickly yellow, the inky tendrils reaching towards his pupils, enveloping them in a macabre embrace.

The glow of the sun filters through the gaps in the wooden walls of the shed, illuminating the space with a warm, golden light. You stand there, hidden away from the villagers (who managed to overrun you not even an hour ago), as a gentle breeze weaves through the nearby trees. It's a sweet melody that accompanies the soft whispers of the diary's pages, its newfound freshness almost palpable as you trace your fingers along its surface.

The air still carries the scent of damp wood and earth, with a hint of mustiness. The shed’s been abandoned for too long, left to the mercy of the elements. Like a forgotten tomb, filled with the memories of a long-departed soul. Neglected in its wake.

Reading page after page – each with intriguing materials hidden inside its folds, you let the ink come alive, painting vivid pictures of his observations.

July 10, 2004

Today marks another day of failed attempts at finding a cure for the outbreak in this village. The scarce resources and limited materials available make it even more challenging to uncover a solution. However, after much experimentation and observation, I finally managed to identify the mode of transmission – horizontal transmission. The virus can replicate its DNA and spread throu–

The shadow of a figure looms over the creaky door, pulling your gaze away from the passage. Your hand slinks towards the gun holster on your thigh, fingers tapping the handle with precision, safety off. You stare at the door, alert like a hawk on the prowl.

With a soft thud, the diary shuts; your senses stir in anticipation as the door opens. The hinges groan under the weight of the door. Recognizing the person entering, an exhale leaves your lips.

Leon's silhouette is backlit by the dimming light, creating a halo effect around his head. His large frame takes up almost the whole space of the door, blocking out any remaining slivers of sunlight that had managed to seep through the cracks.

He swiftly shuts the door behind him, sealing off the outside world like a fortress protecting its treasure. With practised ease, he places a chair underneath the handle, securing it.

"Shit," you cuss as you snap the safety back on the gun, "don’t try sneakin’ up on me like that again, Leon."

Leon's eyes flicker up, scanning your tense frame, alert for any signs of aggression. He nods, a wordless apology for startling you, and steps towards you with a cautious gait.

Restarting the reading, you skip through the rest of the page, flicking to the next one.

–indicates that the virus' spread is heavily influenced by the host's behavior and their relationship with the recipient.

As Leon shuffles past, the air is infused with the heady aroma of his shirt, like the sweet, earthy scent of freshly turned soil. The mustiness of its faded blue is mixed with the sharp tang of his cologne, reminiscent of the crisp bite of a green apple. He runs a hand across his smooth-shaven face, the coolness of his skin a temporary relief from the relentless fever burning inside him.

Today's findings have shed new light on the behavior of the virus. My latest analysis has revealed that the virus has a peculiar ability to alter the composition of the host's saliva. Strikingly, I discovered that infected individuals have elevated levels of–

Your eyes dart across the page, scanning the words with lightning speed. The words blur together as you scan through them with lightning speed, eager to reach the end of the entry in hopes to find a way to help Leon.

The implications of these findings are tantalizing, and suggest that the virus may be manipulating the behavior of its hosts to facilitate its own spread.

"What’re you readin’," Leon asks, stepping to your side with the knife holster dangling from his grip like a coiled snake.

The close proximity of him allows your arm to brush against his chest, the solid mass of muscle beneath his shirt a somewhat comforting presence in the chaos you’ve found yourself in. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, squeezing it gently like a reassuring pat on the back as his eyes dart towards the diary.

You don’t hesitate to show it to him, its cover slightly worn and creased from your constant handling.

"It’s some kind of a diary," you watch as Leon flips through the pages, occasionally pausing to read it, "found it in one of the houses. It’s written by–I think–a scientist who was here; Doctor Javier García."

Leon's fingers trace the faded lines, the foreign letters, as if absorbing the knowledge contained within, yet the puzzled expression on his face tells you otherwise. The rustling of pages sounds like a whisper in the quiet room as he flips through them.

"It’s in Spanish," he grumbles with a tinge of frustration, his voice breaking the tranquil atmosphere. He hands the open diary back to you before rubbing his eyes wearily.

You can't help but notice the subtle movement of dark veins around his eyes, like ink spreading across a page. They're barely perceptible, but the sight still sends a twinge of unease through you.

"Yeah, that’s why I’m here, remember? Your Spanish is shit."

Leon emits a faint chuckle, so quiet that even in the closeness of your positions, it's barely audible. Shaking his head, he runs a hand through the mass of light hair, revealing beads of sweat on his forehead. Exertion fills the air around you as he moves.

"Right," taking a step back, the soles of his shoes crunch against the first floor. You sneak a peek at his arms; the veins, network of obsidian tributaries, ripple just beneath the surface of his skin, "Right."

"Did you find out Baby Eagle’s position?" you inquire, your voice echoing through the empty space.

Leon shakes his head, causing the pushed-back hair to fall back over his face, before he speaks again in a soft, hushed tone, "No; got a call from Luis. They’re hiding in the castle." His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, and you strain to hear him.

Speaking of Luis–

Looking back at the book in your hand, you remember the last passage. The first thing you read when you were left alone in this shed.

"About Luis," you murmur, your fingers deftly flipping through the pages until you reach the last inked page. Leon’s eyes follow your hands as you open the page, the words there shaky, the paper wrinkled and smudged with ink. It's like a relic from another time, something that has weathered the storm of time and come out the other side. Written in a hurry; but it’s there as you read it out loud, slowly translating the foreign language:

September 18, 2004

Today, another scientist arrived in this remote village. After a brief conversation about my project, he evaded my queries about his presence here. He divulged information about a private island facility and expressed a keen interest in developing a cure for the virus. However, I couldn't help but sense an underlying malice in his intentions towards the virus. I intend to find out more about this man.

Your eyes scan the smudged ink of another passage, attempting to make sense of the faded words, but it’s no use.

Back facing Leon, you speak, "That’s gotta be Luis, right?," voice filled with suspicion, "Two weeks ago, this García met Luis and now he’s gone. His personal belongings are all here - don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

A low groan interrupts your train of thought, causing you to furrow your brow.

"Leon?"

You turn around and watch as Leon stands a mere footstep before you. Palm resting on his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, you feel your heartbeat pick up; the veins now spreading like poison ivy, creating an intriguing mosaic. The ebony tendrils slither over his skin, covering his neck and sneaking inside the folds of his dirty shirt.

Another guttural growl emanates from his throat, so animalistic and raw that it sends shivers down your spine. Your hand instinctively reaches for Leon's blade, which was left on the table moments ago, while your other hand grips the wooden surface to steady yourself.

"Leon," you repeat in hopes to reach the man’s attention, "what’s wrong?"

Your attempts to reach him prove futile; you stand patiently, gaze firmly following his every movement–with a precise step, you stroll in front of him. Another guttural sound finds its way out of Leon as he moves his hands to his temples, pushing against the thin skin as if he could alleviate a headache.

As you watch, the veins around his eyes grow more prominent, twisting and pulsing like roots searching for water. Something inside him seems to be struggling to break free, a dangerous force waiting to be unleashed. With a sudden jerk, Leon looks up at you with an intense fervor; the sclera now twisted into a sickly yellow, the inky tendrils reaching towards his pupils, enveloping them in a macabre embrace.

"Leon!"

You take a step back as he lunges forward, his movements erratic and uncontrolled.

Anticipating a strike, you raise the knife, its point aimed at Leon’s upper body. Your heart jackhammer in your chest, you brace yourself for the attack; muscles coiled and ready for defence. But before you can make a move, Leon's hand is already on your wrist, his grip vice-like as he twists the blade away from you. You gasp in pain, feeling the sharp sting of the metal cutting into your skin.

The ground feels gritty beneath your feet as you struggle to maintain your balance, trying to free yourself from Leon's grasp. But the man seems to be in complete control, his movements fluid and effortless. Your heart races faster as you realize the danger you're in. This man could easily overpower you, could easily harm you if he wanted to.

A pained gasp leaves your tightening throat as Leon’s hot breath fans over your face. And then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.

It’s messy. Needy.

Wet.

Taken by surprise, your mind races; struggling to make sense of what’s happening. The taste of his lips is familiar, certainly not the first time he kissed you. But never like that – and never when infected.

You can taste the slight tinge of mint on his tongue as it sneaks inside your mouth. His hands, strong and calloused, grip your jaw, tilting your head as his hips back you against the table. Leon’s body easily keeps yours restrained, his body heat almost scorching you. You can feel his every move, every twitch of a muscle, every shiver that runs down his spine. It's like being consumed by a wild, untamed force that you can't resist.

The dominance in his behavior, the way he takes control and leaves you powerless and vulnerable; it all makes your mind fuzzy. A blank canvas.

For a moment, everything fades away–

–until the realization hits you.

He’s infected.

Pressing your palms firmly against his chest, your body freezes momentarily upon feeling the taut muscles of his breastplates before you push with all your might. He barely budges. Yet, when your lips momentarily separate, you manage to call out to him one more time, "Leon!"

His eyes open. Now clear, back to the blue as a tranquil ocean on a sunny day, the agitated storm within them subsided. He looks back at you.

"I’m so sorry," he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. You can see the fatigue etched into his features, the bags under his eyes betraying his lack of sleep. As he meets your gaze, his eyes plead for your understanding.

The sound of his groan echoes in your ears as you watch him crumble before you, his once-strong body now appearing weak. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your lips, a bittersweet reminder of what has just transpired. The dust swirls around him, adding to the already chaotic scene. You can feel your heart racing, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, Leon," you hurry towards him.

You kneel beside him, eyes scanning his face for any signs of consciousness. His lips, bruised and swollen, part lightly as he takes a laboured breath. You can see the pain etched on his features, the lines on his forehead deepening with each passing second.

Minutes flow as you sit by Leon’s side, watching the dark veins fade slowly as he regains his strength. His chest rises and falls steadily now, the rest of his gear lying on the table alongside your gun. You take in the sight of him, his rugged features softened in the moonlight. His hair, disheveled and covered in dust, frames his face like a wild mane, adding to his already striking appearance.

You reach out to brush a strand away from his forehead, your fingertips tracing the curve of his cheekbone, tracing the areas recently covered in ebony veins.

As you sit there, the sounds of the night surround you–the chirping of crickets, the whispering of leaves in the wind. A cool breeze washes over you, the scent of earth and foliage filling your nostrils. You take a deep breath, the freshness of the air soothing your nerves.

But despite the calming surroundings, the sensation within you is like a storm raging inside, the winds tossing and turning your thoughts. Your body feels like a furnace, burning with a heat that can't be quenched. Heart beating faster, the thumping becoming almost unbearable as your body begins to ache with a deep, pulsing desire.

You try to shake it off, thinking it's just the adrenaline still coursing through your system, but the sensation only intensifies. Focusing on the sounds of the night, hoping they’ll calm down the tempest within; but even the gentle rustling of trees sounds like a deafening roar. The once refreshing gust that swept over you now feels like a tantalizing stroke, sending your nerves alight.

Confusion sets in as you start to feel an uncontrollable need for Leon, a hunger that you can't explain. You try to push it away, but the urge grows stronger with each passing moment until it consumes you completely. You begin to tremble, feeling as if you're on the brink of losing control.

You look down at Leon, feeling both embarrassed and ashamed. The urge like a vine, coiling around your body, tightening its grip with every passing second.

Hand reaching towards Leon’s, your fingers skim over his naked palm, the gloves previously protecting his hands now discarded on the table. His skin is cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the feverish heat that consumes your own body. Just as you’re about to give in to the fear, a twitch in Leon's hand catches your attention. His fingers curl around yours, gripping them tightly. His eyes slowly flutter open, revealing a deep shade of blue that glistens in the moonlight.

"You had me worried there for a moment," you say with a tight-lipped smile, elbows resting on your knees, fingers digging into the naked flesh there.

You feel like you’re burning. Hot coals pressed into your skin.

You take in his appearance, the way his hair’s matted and sticking to his forehead. Sweat beads on his skin, a testament to the fever that has been plaguing him. His skin’s still pale, but his eyes are no longer clouded with ferocity. They seem clear, focused, and alert.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs again, but this time his voice is stronger, more resolute, "I don’t know what that was."

"Don’t be," you reply gently. You try to comfort him with your words, hoping to ease his troubled mind.

"Let’s just find you a cure."

He nods before sitting up, his movements slow and deliberate. He looks fragile, like a delicate flower that might break with the slightest breeze.

"How long was I out?"

You let out a shaky breath, relieved that he's awake. "Not long," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze returns to him, studying his features with an intensity that you can't explain. The sharp planes of his face, the way his jaw tenses as he speaks, the curve of his lips. You try to push the thoughts away, but they persist, like a buzzing fly that won't leave you alone.

"You good to get up?"

"Yeah," Leon exhales.

Dusting the dirt off your knees, you get up and reach out, helping him prop himself up, his body leaning against yours. The heat from his skin seeps into yours, soothing the burning that has been coursing through your veins–

–which doesn’t go unnoticed.

"You’re burning up," he notes. His knuckles lightly press onto the side of your neck, against the jugular vein. Heart thumping, you swallow as you feel the uncomfortable ache between your legs only intensify the longer Leon’s hand remains on your throat.

"Your heart rate’s elevated," his hand finally leaves your skin, "something’s wrong."

With a firm grasp on your upper arm and without much struggle from your side, he beckons you onto the table decorated with all your gear. Skin pricklening with sensation as he guides you onto the table – it’s old wooden surface creaking slightly underneath your weish as you settle onto its surface, feeling the rough wood groan underneath your palms.

The firm press of his hands on your ribcage is like a spark to a fuse, igniting a flame within you. The heat spreads throughout your body, intensifying with each passing moment. You bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the wave of desire that threatens to consume you.

"I’m alright," you assure him, trying to maintain your composure; yet you allow him his hands to roam over your body as if you were actually hurt.

Leon's eyes bore into yours, intense and unwavering. His sharp gaze betrayed his concern, a worry etched into the creases of his forehead. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that he was only looking out for you.

As you gaze at him, you notice the veins slowly returning to his skin; slowly faded over, the pinkish hue underneath his eyes seems to conceal them, but only from afar. Up close, you can see the delicate tracery of veins pulsating just beneath the surface of his skin.

"Are you sure?"

There’s worry evident in his voice as he rests his palms next to yours, enclosing you in his arms.

The weight of his touch’s comforting your heating body.

Your hand moves like a feather, tracing the intricate network of veins spreading across the contours of his face; his eyes flicker down, on your legs, as you stay mesmerized (and slowly being consumed by the raw power of your desire) by the way the veins seems to gain color, fill into the same darkness they were before, underneath your touch. As if they were following your lead.

Leon’s breath quickens as you continue. You try to steady yourself, to push back against the growing tide of desire that threatens to overwhelm you, but it's no use.

Leon's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense and unwavering as the color regains its sickly yellow tone, thin black veins dancing inside his irises like ink on paper. You can see the concern there, the worry that something might be wrong, but you also see something else. Something that sends a thrill through you despite the situation. He's looking at you like he wants you, like he's been waiting for this moment for ages.

The air thinkens with a palpable tension as you both hold each other’s gaze, lost in the charged atmosphere between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the electricity in the air, the way your heart races in your chest.

"I’m fine," a faint breath leaves your parted lips when your thumb reaches the slightly wider black vein leading towards his lower lip.

Everything after that seems like a haze. As if you’re observing from afar. Watching a play unfold from the balcony. Detached.

Your lips lock with Leon’s with a wild, raw passion.

It’s fervent.

Intense and fueled by a primal yearning that’s been brewing inside you ever since he kissed you a mere hour ago. Your hands grip Leon’s shoulders, steadying yourself against the mass of muscle standing between your legs.

His kisses are searing – cardinal, almost animalistic and completely uncontrolled; fueled by crude desire that seems to consume him fully. He kisses you with reckless abandon, as if he can't get enough of you. His lips are hot and wet against yours, his breath ragged, and you can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he presses himself against you. It's like he's trying to meld his body with yours, to become one with you, and the sheer intensity of it all is almost too much to bear.

Leon’s hand roam over your body with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. Guttural, deep grunts reverberate through your body.

Hands reaching between your bodies, you tug at the shirt covering his torso – the fabric slides over his head like a curtain revealing a work of art. Taut muscles and veins ripple beneath his skin; your eyes pierce into his chest, the mosaic of black veins creating a network of rivers.

As you trace your fingertips over his skin, every nerve ending seems to come alive, humming with a primal energy that electrifies your senses. The heat emanating from his body is like a flame, casting flickering shadows across the walls of the room; his skin’s like silk, soft to the touch, but strong and sturdy underneath.

The scent of sweat and musk fills your nostrils, overwhelming and intoxicating, pulling you in even closer to him. It's like a drug, addicting and heady, and you can't seem to get enough of it. As you run your hands over his chest, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch, you can feel yourself losing control, your body responding to his in the most sensuous way.

Your shirt soon follows Leon's, falling to the ground in a heap as you find yourself back in the kiss. It's like a symphony of tangled limbs, gasping breaths, and frenzied moans, each one building on the last until you're both lost in a wild, primal dance.

"Fuck–"

Everything seems brumous.

A cloud of haze covering your brain.

Feeling the wetness pool between your legs, heart beating heavy and strong against your ribcage, Leon’s name escapes your mouth as his lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake; the scrape of his teeth against your skin, nails digging into the flesh of your hips.

As Leon's fingers trace the contours of your curves, the sound of your ragged breaths fills the room, intermingling with the sound of his own. You find yourself lost in the sensation of his touch, the way his fingers seem to know exactly where to go, where to press, where to tease.

Your bodies collide with a force that leaves you gasping for air. Like the collision of two stars, sending shockwaves through the universe.

Unbridled desire. Wild, untamed dance of bodies.

No longer two separate beings, but a single entity, fused together in a frenzy of passion.

Leon's hands move with a speed and precision that makes your head spin, as he undresses you with an urgency that feels primal. His lips, soft yet insistent, cover yours in a heady, dizzying kiss that leaves you breathless.

It's overwhelming, intoxicating, and all-consuming–

–addicting.

The room spins as you lose yourself in the frenzy of desire. Every touch, every kiss, every breath ignites a fire deep within you, a hunger that can only be sated by this man before you.

His fingers find your cunt–wet, completely soaked as if you’ve already being fucked; yet he hasn’t even touched you.

"Jesus Christ," Leon groans upon the feeling of your slick walls enveloping his fingers, "you’re already soaked."

Head tilted back, your hips buck into his hand as he traces the length of your cunt, pressing his thumb against your aching clit. Pain shoots up your body, spreading like venom. It's almost too much, the intensity of it all, but you find yourself craving more, unable to resist the addictive pull that Leon has over you.

Sweet as poison.

A plague.

The tension in your muscles melts away with each inch of Leon’s fingers sinking inside you; a groan escapes your lips as sense of release washes over you; the tension in your body melts away, like ice thawing under a warm sun. Eyes closed, you focus on the sensation of Leon’s fingers pushing deeper, stretching you in a way that feels both strange and satisfying.

Your mind is clouded with a dizzying cocktail of lust and desire as Leon takes control, his touch igniting a fierce hunger that you can't ignore.

Your hand grips his hair, feeling the strands slipping between your fingers like silk. You pull him towards you, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His eyes meet yours, and you see the intensity in them, a hunger that matches your own.

"Fuck me, Leon—"

The words spill out of your mouth before you can even think. Your body has taken over, consumed by a desire that you can no longer control.

—you just can't help yourself anymore.

As Leon strips down, piece by piece, you find yourself drawn to the way his body moves with such fluidity. Your eyes take in every inch of him, from the rippling muscles to the way the light dances across his skin. Leon’s body completely covered by the system of ebony veins, your eyes following the lines for a second.

It's as if his body was made to be admired, and you find yourself doing just that.

The vulnerability of the moment is not lost on you, and the thrill of it all sends a jolt of excitement racing through your veins. Here you are, both of you completely naked, with nothing to hide. It's as if you've shed your layers of clothing and your inhibitions along with it, leaving only raw desire in its wake. The air between you is charged, electrified with anticipation and lust, and you can't wait to explore every inch of him.

Leon follows your order. Hand wrapping around his throbbing cock, your legs spread wider to accomodate his hips. Your eyes fixate on the thick, pulsating vein that runs along his length, now pitch black in color; like a lightning strike, surrounded by smaller ebony veins.

With each pump of his hand, the bulging head glistens with precum, taunting your hungry cunt.

His name leaves your mouth in a gasp as the tip brushes against your slick folds, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His eyes meet yours, dark with desire and a hint of mischief, as he teases your entrance with the blunt head of his cock. His hips move forward, the tip disappearing inside you, stretching you wide with a delicious ache.

His arm reaches forward; guiding you down to lie onto the rough surface of the wooden table as he slowly splits you apart. The bark of the table scratches against your skin, adding an edge to the pleasure that courses through your body.

Once fully buried inside you, he stills.

Only momentarily.

As he sinks deeper, Leon's hand finds your collarbone, securing his grip. The roughness of his thumb grazes the sensitive skin of your throat as his hand sneaks underneath your knee to bring your legs higher – wrapping them around the narrow of his waist, you urge him deeper while wrapping your fingers around his forearm, feeling the muscles tense, veins darken.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare into Leon's eyes, now obscured by the black veins that writhe across the blue irises. The intensity of his gaze burns through you, stoking the flames of your desire to a fever pitch.

With a fierce growl, he ruts against you. Wild.

Leon’s a primal force, a beast unleashed, and you revel in the raw, savage power of his movements. His grip on your collarbone is almost painful, but you crave the sensation, the way it anchors you to the earth as he pounds into you with abandon.

Like an animal focused on breeding; there’s nothing but pure ferocity in the way his hips snaps against you–

– and you welcome it. Meeting his thrust.

The rough bark of the wooden table digs into your skin, but you barely register the pain as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Letting him absolute ravage you. Bring you to the brink of ecstasy way too soon. The smooth, velvety skin of his cock slides in and out of you, hitting all the right spots with unerring accuracy. You can feel the heat building inside you, the coil of pleasure winding tighter until it's all you can do to hold on.

The sight of him, his eyes dark and wild, the veins snaking across his skin like living things, only serves to stoke the fire inside you Moans mix with guttural noises; grunt, growls. Everything mixes together in one dance of primal breed.

Cock-drunk.

Fucked stupid.

That’s how you’d described the feeling when his thumb presses against the front of your throat, hooks underneath the necklace he gave you to your first anniversary.

String of curses, incoherent sentences and something vaguely resembling your name leaves Leon’s lips, painted over with black veins, eyes wide open and staring straight at you. His hand moves to toy with your clit; yet just the single flick, the rough touch uncoils the tightness inside your abdomen. Mouth open, back arched, a silent scream pushes itself out your throat.

But Leon doesn’t stop. The way your walls flutter, squeeze his cock only add to the primarity of it all. Securing his hand behind your neck, he lifts your body up, lips connecting with yours in a heated kiss as his thrusts increase.

A pathetic whine leaves your lips when he pulls back completely. Hands gripping your sides, you gasp when he single-handedly turns you around. Pain shoots through your body as he slams back inside you in one single thrust.

The table creaks and groans beneath the weight of your bodies as Leon relentlessly pounds into you.

His hips meet the flesh of your ass every time his cock kisses your womb – at least that’s how deep he feels. The air thick with the scent of sex, you groan when Leon’s hands grip your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his snapping hips to meet his thrust.

Slick with sweat, you can feel his body heat radiating against your own.

You reach one hand behind you in a feeble attempt to feel him underneath your palms. Nails digging into the wood, your fingers manage to sneak into his hair; grabbing a fistful, you force his face towards yours.

The muscles in your neck strain painfully as you tilt your head to the side to connect your lips in a teeth-clashing kiss – all while Leon’s hand sneak to tease your oversensitive clit while the other covers your hand on the table.

Meeting his thrusts, you stay in rhythm as you feel your high approaching again. Spreading your legs more apart, arching your back, the new angle allows Leon to hit deeper. To split you apart.

"Fuck!"

The pain mixes with pleasure, and you can't help but cry out in ecstasy.

"Oh my god–"

His teeth sink into your flesh, the stinging ache sends you over the edge. It feels almost as if he managed to break the skin atop. With each thrust, it felt like he was hammering against the tight seal of her womb, trying to break through it with sheer force.

The room echoes with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he relentlessly pounds into you. His cock feels like a battering ram, delivering a punishing blow with every thrust. You can feel the impact reverberate through your body, causing you to shudder and gasp for air. It's as if he's trying to breach the walls of your very being, to leave his mark on you in the most primal and intimate way possible.

"Fuck; Leon–’m gonna cum–gonna–"

You feel your cunt pulce around him, like a drumbeat racing against his teeth sinking into your delicate skin. A surge of ecstasy floods your veins, a heady cocktail of pleasure and victory that weighs heavily on your mind like an anchor.

You arch your back, pushing against his chest and whispering his name into the frosty night air as his thrusts become unsteady.

Leon's tongue traces the bite mark he left on you, hands gripping you tightly as he drives himself deeper into your slick heat. His groans mix with the sound of flesh smacking together, his balls slapping against your wetness with each thrust. You cry out as he sends you spiraling into another wave of pleasure.

As he moves inside you, you can feel every inch of him. His muscles ripple against your skin and his breath is hot on your neck. His hands grip you tightly, pulling you closer and deeper onto him.

You convulse around him, your body responding to his every touch. His groans intensify, as he thrusts even harder into you, giving into the raw passion between you. He pulses deep inside of you, filling you up with his warmth.

"Fuck!"

As he moans out your name, his lips trace a path across your skin leaving a trail of wetness. You can feel the heat emanating from his hands as he grips you tightly, branding you with his touch. His body trembles as he savors the last remnants of pleasure, and the evidence of his desire stains your insides like a lustrous sheen of polished marble.

He’s branded you inside and out.

Infected you with his venom.

Your skin is hypersensitive to his touch, as if each nerve is its own entity, firing off signals that jolt through your entire body. The dull ache of pleasure and pain radiates from the points where he grips you, leaving you feeling like a canvas painted in shades of blue and purple–

–and black.

As his weight presses down on you, you feel a dull ache spread through your body, every nerve ending alive and sensitized from his touch. You can still feel the ghostly imprint of his fingers on your skin, branding you with his touch.

His forehead is hot against your shoulder, the dampness of his breath tickling your skin as he rides out the last waves of his release. Each thrust feels like a punch to your gut, leaving you reeling and gasping for air.

The sticky wetness between your thighs is a testament to his desire, a reminder of how deeply he claimed you as his own. You feel the pulse of his spent cock still buried inside you.

Your gaze follows the lines of black veins snaking up his forearm, a stark contrast to his now pinkish skin. You watch as they slowly fade from sight, disappearing like a memory slipping away. Each movement feels heavy, weighted down by the aftermath of his passion.

After a while, Leon finally withdraws from you, a pang of loss echoes through your body, leaving you empty and longing for more of his touch. The heat of his body lingers on yours, branding you with his mark and making it hard to differentiate where his skin ends and yours begins.

You close your eyes, still feeling the ghostly touch of his lips and fingers on your skin, as if he's imprinted himself upon you forever. The room is filled with the heavy scent of sex, a reminder of the raw passion that just transpired.

[synamartia]

I so badly wanted to have the complete Smutmus done by now and have moved on to another project, but my uterus had other plans. So here, have a little teaser while my insides twist themselves in knots! 😭💀

Alastor leaned in close - his face mere inches from yours, a frenzied look in his half-lidded eyes, as he inhaled the distinctive spicy aroma that your cinnamon toothpaste had given your breath. He'd rather not waste any time talking, but the one thing that horrible, awful, wonderful drug couldn't override in his brain was the inherent need for consent in such acts. “I- … I'm so sorry, Alastor- … S-sir! I mean, M- … Mister Alastor! I thought it was just a… a cologne…” you started, at first mistaking the look of lust in his eyes for one of sadistic intent. You had heard the rumors (who hadn't?). So when you noticed his shadows swirling around your form and felt one of his tentacles wrap around your ankle, you thought that you were about to be the next voice heard on his radio broadcast. “It seems this… cologne…” You heard his voice ring out as your world went black for a few moments - the shadowy tendrils having engulfed both of your forms. You felt a slight breeze with how fast the darkness transported you and Alastor from the main hall straight to his bedroom door. At first, you had assumed he was taking you to his studio to broadcast your screams of agony for all of Hell to hear. However, you were pleasantly surprised when the smoky substance dissipated and you found yourself in the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom. “... was an aphrodisiac so potent that it's affecting even me.” he said, having remained in the same position as he began to size you up. “I-... I know. I realized too late,” your voice trembled as you stared back at him, fidgeting with your nails out of nervousness. “I'm so sorry, Alastor - I'll be more caref- ... ?!” The deer demon pressed a singular clawed digit against your lips to prevent you from further stammering, shushing you as his eyes traveled down to the valley between your breasts.

[hayakawalove]

Intertwined (Chapter One)

Best Friends and Better Halves, Chapter 1

Summary: You were in 10th grade when you first met Eren Jaeger. Enticing eyes and a big mouth. There was no way you could know how important he would become to you.

As the tendrils of your youth fade away you find yourself confused. Your relationship with him grows more complicated throughout the years, taking you by surprise at every turn.

A story of love, lust, and addiction.

A/N: This has been in the works for 13 months. We're so excited to finally share it. My best friend @zeninsama who is also the coauthor, and I have spent countless hours talking and thinking about this story. They coauthored this with me and we worked really hard.

I do have some warnings. This story delves into addiction and how it affects relationships. This by no means means we are glorifying it, we are only exploring it. Their relationship will be complicated, but it's supposed to be. If you find yourself no longer interested in it that's perfectly fine. It won't hold back, it won't be pretty.

There will be lots of flashbacks in this fic. We debated for a long time on how to go about it, but I think we settled on a way. Flashbacks will be sprinkled throughout the fic and will always be separated with "~~~" before and after. There will also be the time period before so as to not confuse you. The past is very important to their relationship so it needs to be included. It won't be in every chapter, and some chapters will be purely flashbacks. We will use "///" to indicate transitions in a scene. The flashbacks for the most part will be in order.

We love this story, and hope you do too.

CW: Drug use, alcohol use, violence, fem reader, AFAB reader

W/C: 8,043

Banner credit: @benkeibear

~~~

-Summer before Senior year-

Warmth. 

He always did run hot. His lips meld to yours, whispers of cherry gracing your tastebuds. Rough hands you had long been accustomed to held your face, keeping you still and pliant just for him. Eren’s tongue slips free, gently dragging along your bottom lip. You felt as if you were floundering, desperately trying to keep up. He pulls away and you’re met with forest green staring back at you. 

“Was that any better?” He teases. 

~~~

-Current-

Eren Jaeger is a lot of things. 

Punctual is not one of them. 

It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last – but it was, however, the first time Eren had been late to a party he invited you to. You weren’t much for large gatherings, or gatherings of any size for that matter. You would’ve opted to stay home if Eren hadn’t practically begged you to come with him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” He had said. 

Yeah, right. It reeks of booze and frat boys only have one volume – screaming their heads off. 

You sigh and push off from the countertop, not wanting to wait around any longer. If Eren was going to come he would’ve shown by now. Thanks a lot, Eren. 

You make it one step before an arm snakes around your shoulders. 

“Hey.” 

The scent of cheap beer is replaced by warm, woody cologne, cut with the pungent smell of weed. It’s so distinctly Eren Jaeger. 

He squeezes your shoulder in a half-hug. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

“Soon? I’ve been here for 30 minutes,” you grumble. 

Eren releases you from his hold and repositions himself in front of you, blocking you from the kitchen door. He’s dressed in all black, a worn brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Tucked behind his ear is a neatly rolled joint. It was a signature look for him. 

“Work ran late. Besides, I had a few deliveries to make.” 

“Deliveries? What, does the shop not pay you enough?” You tease. 

Eren’s mouth quirks in a smile as he pokes back, “I thought my best friend was supposed to support my passions. I’m a small business owner.” 

You roll your eyes, moving to pass Eren and finally be released from this hellhole, but his hand grips your wrist to pull you back. His touch is warm, grounding. 

“Heyheyhey, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Home? I’ve had enough of this place.” 

“But I just got here! Come on, just one drink and we can head out.” 

“Fine.” 

You allow Eren to drag you back into the kitchen and lean against the countertop for support, watching with your arms crossed over your chest while Eren fills a red plastic cup with a little bit of everything spread out before you. Vodka, wine cooler, some kind of fruit juice. 

“Gross, Eren!”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” 

He takes a swig from your cup before handing it to you (“making sure it’s safe”, he says) and you accept, brow raised in suspicion before following suit and taking a sip. Besides the initial bite from the vodka, it’s really not that bad. It just tastes like juice – albeit a dangerously intoxicating one that’ll have you regretting tonight even more in the morning. Eren always takes his drinks like this, opting to get loosened up faster and not really giving a shit about the contents. 

Against your better judgment, you take another sip.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” 

“See? I’ve never steered you wrong. Ever. Not even once.” 

You snort into your cup and Eren raises his brows, feigning offense. 

“I haven’t! Name one time.” 

“The time Mrs. Steven busted us trying to buy beer with your shitty fake ID.” 

“That wasn’t that bad.” 

“My mom grounded me for a month!”

“We wouldn’t have seen each other if I didn’t have the best climbing skills in town.” 

You both laugh and shake your head, watching the party ahead of you with a smile on your face while Eren watches you with a smile on his. 

“Okay koala man.” 

“Koala man?”

“They’re good at climbing, right?” 

Eren’s drink helps ease your nerves, along with your burning need to leave this party. You might even say you’re starting to have fun now that Eren’s here. He tends to do that – make anything feel fun and lighthearted. He doesn’t take things as seriously as you do. This used to make you skeptical when you first met Eren in high school. He seemed like a bad influence, if not just a nuisance, but you had to admit he really was a good guy. He’s still a little shit though. 

“So, who do you even know here? I thought all your friends were in Paradise City.” 

“This is Reiner’s house. You’ve met him, right?” 

Reiner, Reiner, Reiner… You mull it over. Eren has a lot of “friends”, so it’s hard to remember all of them by name. He’s always been so charismatic. 

“Blond? Muscles?”

“Bingo.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s nice.”

You throw his name around several times in your head. You hadn’t had many interactions with Reiner, but everytime you did speak with him he seemed nice. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what he and Eren had in common. Reiner was a jock through and through - even played for the football team. Eren on the other hand… Well, he was Eren. Your Eren nonetheless.

Your lips press against the plastic cup as you take another sip of Eren’s concoction, feeling a buzz start to come on already. Your senses feel dull as your eyelids slowly get heavier and heavier.

“Hitting you harder than I thought it would, damn you’re a lightweight.” Eren chuckles, tossing back his drink like it was nothing.

You click your tongue at him and roll your eyes. Maybe he had a point. It wasn’t your fault. Not everyone drank and partied it up in highschool like he did. You dread the day a doctor gets a look at his liver - or even worse, his lungs.

“Finish your drink then we can head out if you still want?” He offers, tossing his cup in the overflowing bin beside you.

You nod and swish your drink around in front of you, there was still half the cup left. Eren lets out a chuckle.

Eren hops off the counter. “I’m gonna go light up, you coming with?”

“I think I’m good.” 

He plucks the joint from behind his ear and heads towards the patio. “Suit yourself. At least try to make some friends while I’m gone. The thought of you being all depressed without me is gonna ruin my high.” 

“Yeah, bye, Eren,” you wave him off, a smile spreading across your face. 

You notice your body feels much more relaxed now than it did initially. Eren has a funny way of doing that to you. Most of the time, you’re polar opposites – you being high strung while Eren hardly took anything serious. You balance each other out. 

A light buzz reaches your head, heat creeping up your neck and ears. Eren really knew how to make an effective drink. Even the music sounds better, no longer blaring and rattling the house but mellowing into the background with a low rhythm and bass you could feel thumping in your chest.

~~~

-Fall of Sophomore year- 

“Everyone, we have a new student joining our class. Go ahead and introduce yourself, sweetheart.” 

“Eren Jaeger,” the new kid speaks, expression and tone heavy with boredom. His hair is brown and slightly overgrown, sitting just under his ears. “I transferred from Maria Reformatory. Go Titans.” 

Finally, something different. 

“Nice to have you, Eren!” The teacher welcomes. 

His eyes meet yours. They’re beautiful – a vibrant shade of emerald green you’ve never seen before. Only on movie stars, or models, same thing. You straighten in your seat, feeling perceived. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” One of the girls blurts out, causing the class to erupt in laughter.

You return your attention to the assignment in front of you, silently groaning. The teacher attempts to quell the chaos while directing Eren down the aisle, towards the empty seat conveniently located beside you. 

You intentionally picked this seat because you wanted to be away from everyone else. 

“Hey,” Eren introduces himself, tossing his backpack under his desk and digging for a pencil in the front pouch. “What’s your name?” 

You grumble your name, eyes not leaving the worksheet. 

“I’m Eren.” 

“Yeah, I heard the introduction.” 

“Wow. Okay, attitude.” 

Eren slouches in his seat, his too-long legs extending beyond his desk, like a newborn giraffe. 

Focusing is hard when you feel his eyes bore holes into your side, analyzing you. It felt like a bug crawling up your neck, almost making you shiver at the weight of his gaze. You opt to ignore him, do what you’ve always done and keep your head down. You don’t need friends, they’re disruptive. Not like anyone here gets you anyways. 

Eren, however, had no intention of leaving you alone. 

“How do you like the school?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before.”

“You can’t tell if you like it or not?” 

“I’m trying to focus,” you admit, slightly exasperated. 

“Didn’t know there was a rush.” 

Eren turns forward, brows raised in amusement. You were quick to bite and maybe not the most friendly, but it only piqued his curiosity. 

You watch Eren adjust in your peripheral vision, like he’s just now realizing there’s nothing on his desk. Your finger taps anxiously on your own table. 

“Hey teacher, I don’t have one of those,” Eren points out, referring to your textbook. 

“You’ll get one soon,” the teacher interjects. Don’t say it, please don’t say it… 

Your heart sinks when she says your name. 

“You don’t mind sharing, right?” 

Your finger stills. 

“No, ma’am.” 

Eren smirks and scoots his desk closer to yours, metal legs scraping against the floor until the edges touch. The scent of Old Spice body spray wafts over into your space, with something skunky underneath that explains his red and lazy eyes. 

“This works out great!” Your teacher exclaims, eyes meeting yours. “Now that Eren has joined us, you’ll have a partner for the semester project!” 

The words on the book in front of you sear into your brain. Fuck.

You don’t need to look at Eren to see the expression on his face. Well, at least he was enjoying this. 

“Eren, you’re in luck. Your partner is the head of the class, I’m sure she’ll take great care of you.”

“Is that so?” Eren grins, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Are you gonna take care of me, partner?” 

Normally, praise for your academic achievements feels great. The circumstances were different in this case. You were certain Eren was going to slack off, let you do all the work and stamp his name on the finished result and take your credit.

You’d prefer that, anyways. Keep your head down. Do your best work. Just get through it.

///

You’re on your way out when a familiar voice calls out your name. 

“Hey! Wait up!” 

Naturally, you speed up. 

Eren matches your pace, walking beside you towards the front gate on campus. 

“Jeez, for someone kinda short, you walk fast.” 

You sigh in defeat. “Why are you following me?” 

“Well, we have that end of semester project, right? When should we go over it?” 

“It’s fine, Eren. I can do it and you can sign your name when I’m done. That’s what I was planning on, anyway.”

The brunet grabs your wrist, bringing you to a stop. Heat floods your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears. Who was he to just grab you like that? You turn around, ready to give him an earful, but the expression on his face makes you pause. It wasn’t anger, but something closer to determination. 

“I’m not gonna make you do it alone. What kinda guy do you take me for? Let’s just exchange contact info and we can plan something.” 

You wanted to argue back but you couldn’t find the words. Being around Eren steals the words right from you. 

“Fine,” you grumble, fishing around in your bag for something to write your number on – a convenience store receipt – and a pen to write it with. You print your number on the back and hand it to Eren, who studies the receipt curiously. 

He laughs from his chest. “Damn, how many bags of gummy worms do you need?”  

You groan.

“None of your business.” 

“I’m much more of a gummy bear fan myself. It’s a texture thing, and I like that they’re bite size.”

“Good for you.” 

Eren smiles and stuffs the receipt into his pocket, finally releasing his grasp on your arm and starting on past you. “We’ll be in touch, partner!” 

////

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Hey, it’s Eren Jaeger. 

You tap out a quick answer. 

You: When do you wanna talk about the project? 

Inviting Eren home wasn’t the best idea. Your parents were strict, and besides, you just met the guy. You weren’t exactly ready to invite him into your home, and who knew what would await you at his? Maybe you could set up at a park somewhere. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: You hungry? I’m feeling like a burger.  

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Sent location.

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s not too far. Meet here?

You: That works. 

You remind yourself to text your parents about your plans. It shouldn’t be a problem seeing as it’s for school. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s a date.

You: It’s a study session. 

The walk wasn’t inconvenient – skip your usual turn, walk another block north, apologize a dozen times to the cars you weave through in the parking lot. When you arrive, you notice Eren already seated with a tray of food in front of him, a fry dangling from his mouth and gaze fixed on his lap. 

You help yourself into the booth across from him.

“You got here fast.” 

His lips twitch up in a smirk as he chows down on the fry. 

“Or you got here slow, shortstack.” 

“Let’s not make that a thing.” 

Eren gestures towards his food, silently offering it to you, but you shake your head. 

“So what do you want to do the project on?” He asks through a mouthful of fried potato mush. 

“Well I was planning on making a heart monitor. They’re pretty easy to make if you just do a cheap one. Then I was going to write a report alongside it explaining what it is and how it works.” You explain, feeling your shoulders begin to relax. 

You had already gotten started on the project so you were praying he wouldn’t want to pick something else. He listens intently while you explain to him how exactly it worked and what was needed still. 

“Sounds cool.” 

Eren picks off the rest of his food while you walk through the project together, pulling your notes from your backpack and explaining everything you had done so far, including a diagram you were rather proud of. 

Conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. You don’t realize your pen is missing until you notice Eren absentmindedly doodling on an unused napkin. 

“What school did you go to?” 

“Okay, Miss ‘I heard the introduction’,” Eren teases. “Uh, Maria Reformatory.” 

Your brow quirks. His expression remains concentrated on his masterpiece, bangs falling in front of his eyes while he gnaws at the straw in his empty drink. 

“Reformatory? What did you do?”

Green eyes flick up to yours momentarily before looking back down. For a moment, you kick yourself. Maybe it’s a touchy subject, don’t be nosy. 

Eren doesn’t seem bothered. 

“I wasn’t a good student. It’s nothing much, just got into fights, drank and smoked. Teenager stuff, you know how it is.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t, actually.” 

Eren laughs through his nose. “Besides, my grades were already shit. Those things were just the final straw.”

You wet your bottom lip, fingers idly tapping on the table. 

Eren took slight notice. He stops drawing and slides the napkin away from him. His expression remained neutral as he leaned back in his chair to fully face you. 

“Fights? Like, physical fights?” 

Eren laughs dryly. 

“Does that scare you?” 

You pick something that looks close to pride on his face. For being sent to a reformatory, it sure doesn’t seem like he learned much. 

“My best friend used to get picked on a lot. He’s kinda like you, actually. Short, bookish type. Anyway, it really pissed me off. I’m not the kind of guy that can just stand there while someone treats my friends like shit.” 

“So you stopped drinking and smoking?” You ask. 

Eren shifts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Just learned how to hide it better.” 

He really didn’t learn anything. You heave out an exasperated sigh, but keep pressing. 

“What are you doing here then?” 

“My mom wanted a fresh start for me, figured moving might help.”

You hum quietly in understanding. 

You chat idly for another half hour before your phone buzzes under your thigh. 

Incoming call from: Mom. 

Your heart sinks as it dawns on you – you forgot to text your parents. 

“Ah,” you start nervously. “I’ve gotta get home.” 

“Want me to walk you?” Eren asks casually.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“You sure? It’s getting dark out, what if some creep tries to grab you?” 

Against your better judgment, you give in. 

While the two of you gather your things, your eye catches on the napkin he was drawing on. It didn’t look half bad. It was a flower with designs around it, the art oddly calming after hearing his tales from his old school. You grab the napkin when he isn’t looking, sliding it into your backpack. As you pack up, an odd feeling curls up in your stomach. Would he notice you took the drawing? Would he care? As you make your way to the exit, Eren holds the door on your way out. 

////

You stop a block down from your house. Even from afar, you can see the light on in the entryway, and your parents’ cars in the driveway. Eren is rambling about some cartoon series when you interrupt him.

“Here is fine,” you murmur, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m just down the street.”

Eren raises a brow suspiciously. You answer before he can ask. 

“I’m already in trouble for being late. If my parents see me with a boy, they’re gonna flip.” 

“Alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

////

You did not see Eren tomorrow. Or the day after. 

Everything was radio silent. 

The prospect of having to deal with a new kid made you nervous at first, but you felt more at ease after getting to know him better. It was sort of ironic, in a way. You learned that Eren was a bad kid who liked to smoke and drink. Why did that make you feel more comfortable? If anything it should stress you out even more. He’s a bad influence. Maybe it was because he was being honest. Honesty is hard to come by nowadays. 

It looked like you would end up having to do the project on your own after all. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you were planning on doing this alone anyways… So why did you feel let down? 

////

The project is due tomorrow.

You’re hunched at your desk in your room, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. The heart monitor was more or less put together, and the written report just had a couple hundred words left before it was ready to submit. 

You knew you could do it by yourself, but it still would’ve been nice to have help. 

You open your files, ready to hammer out the final details.

“Wait, where is it?” You hum to yourself, scrolling a little too far in your files for your comfort. 

You try typing in the file name, only for your screen to taunt you back: no files found. 

You could have sworn you saved it under that. 

Your fingers shake from anxiety. Frantically, you type variations, thinking you might have saved it under something else. It’s no use.

“You have to be joking. Where is it?” 

At first it was mere nervousness, but now you’re in a full blown panic. 

“No, no, no!” You chant to yourself. 

Weeks of work, all down the drain. Did you save something on top of it? If that was the case, it was lost forever. 

Hopelessness washes over you. What were you gonna do? 

You’re about to accept your impending doom, no doubt get a failing grade on the assignment and lose your spot at the top of your class when you hear something clatter against your window. 

Your gaze snaps to the window, confused, until you watch something hit your window again. 

A twig? What the fuck? 

You approach the window and slide it open, about to stick your head out when another twig narrowly misses your face. 

“Shit, my bad!” Eren calls out, voice a little too loud for your liking. 

“Eren?”

There’s no fucking way. 

You look behind you, expecting your parents to open your door at any minute but they don’t. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“The project is due tomorrow, I came by to help.” 

You watch in awe as Eren heaves himself up, scaling the trellis alongside your house until he reaches your bedroom window, his face inches from yours. Light work for him. No reaction. 

“What is wrong with you?” You yell in a hushed tone, hoping the rustling foliage and thump of his feet against the house didn’t wake your parents. 

Eren grins. 

“A lot of things, I thought you already knew that.”

Wordlessly, you step out of the way so Eren could help himself in your room. 

If you weren’t so pissed you would have been impressed. Your room was on the second floor, and he’s barely breaking a sweat. 

Eren looks around your room, noticing the aforementioned heart monitor sitting on your bedroom floor and an open laptop on your desk, alongside a ripped-open pack of gummy worms. 

“So, what’s left to do?” 

“You really think I would leave things left to be done until the night before it’s due?” 

His brow raises. “Uh, maybe?”

You sigh and cross your arms, eyes dropping to your feet. 

“It was almost done, but I lost the report. It needs to be rewritten completely.” 

“Okay great, I’ll do that and you finish whatever it was you were doing here.” He carefully steps over the monitor and settles in your chair. 

“You can’t just write a whole report in one night.” 

Eren meets your gaze, grinning. “I like a challenge. Sit back and watch, shortstack.” 

He starts typing at a quick pace. 

////

You pause your work on the monitor and look up at Eren. His eyes glide over his work, his chin propped in his hand. His other hand helps itself to your gummy worms – a small price to pay for his help. 

“What happened to you anyway? You totally disappeared on me, it kinda sucked.” 

“Got grounded.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“Left some weed in my pocket. My mom went to do some laundry and it made a huge fucking mess in the washer, so I lost my phone.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle and he turned from the screen to look at you. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.” 

“I thought you said you were better at hiding it?” 

Eren grins. You can’t help but mirror him. 

Sure he was annoying, but you liked his company whether you would admit it or not. 

////

You didn’t know you fell asleep until your morning alarm woke you up. 

You must have taken yourself to bed at some point in the night. Forcing your bleary eyes open, you notice Eren’s figure hunched over your desk, still snoozing. 

Bangs hit against your door and you nearly jump from your skin. 

“Honey? You’re still asleep?” 

You throw a stuffed animal at Eren’s head, waking him up with a snort. 

“I-I’m awake!” You call back. 

You sigh in relief that your door was locked. If your parents came in and saw a boy sleeping in your room, you were gonna be in a whole world of trouble, way worse than a failing grade on an assignment. 

“Okay! I heard you snoring. Maybe you’re getting sick. Breakfast will be downstairs.” 

Your mom’s voice trailed away as you hear her descend the stairs again. 

Eren’s awake by now, rubbing his tired eyes with a yawn. “I want breakfast.” 

“You fell asleep in here?” 

“So did you.”

“It’s my room!” 

Eren shrugs and checks his phone, the battery almost drained. “Shit, it’s almost seven. I don’t have time to go back home. Guess I’ll go straight to school.”

He rises to his feet and stretches, reminding you of a cat. “Want me to wait outside for you?” 

“No, I’ll see you in class. Try not to lose the report.” 

Eren reaches for the handle of your bedroom door. You smack his hand and look up at him incredulously. 

“Take the window!” 

////

It was almost kind of funny. You’ve spent these last few weeks so nervous about the presentation, but when the time finally came, you felt relaxed. Maybe it was Eren’s influence encouraging you to take a breath for once. 

Eren takes the lead, reading the report aloud while you attach the nodes of your handmade monitor for the demonstration. Once he was finished, you turn it on, the monitor instantly coming to life, projecting Eren’s steady heartbeat. You lean forward to reposition one of the nodes, not wanting it to slip. You don’t realize how close you are until Eren’s breath hits your face. He’s looking directly at you. 

“It works.” He says matter of factly.

“You didn’t have faith in me?” 

“Of course I did.” 

Of all the times you’ve seen Eren smile, you’ve never seen one quite like this. It felt softer, genuine. The kind of smile you can’t help but mirror back until the pace of Eren’s heart rate accelerates, filling the room with a racing thump thump thump.  

Your teacher claps, signaling the end of your presentation. 

You end up with an A on the project, not unfamiliar for you, but it felt more rewarding this time around. 

////

Eren meets you outside your last class. Immediately, you notice he’s holding something behind his back. Something he’s trying to keep secret as he pivots slightly when you approach him, wanting to obscure this surprise even more. 

“Hey, Eren,” you greet, mildly suspicious. 

“How was your day?” 

“I’m so ready to go home.” 

There’s a crinkle as he extends his arm, offering a familiar brightly colored bag to you. 

Sour gummy worms. 

“These are for you, by the way.” 

You snatch the bag of candy, inspecting it closely. “For me?” 

Eren cocks his brow. “You think I’m trying to poison you?” 

“Or drug me,” you tease, though your tone is dry. “Don’t they make candy edibles like these?” 

Eren laughs, a throaty chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest, and tilts his head in amusement. 

You really, really like Eren’s laugh.  

“I’m not giving you edibles. Shit’s expensive. I just remembered you like those, and you worked really hard on the project, so. You deserve it.” 

You stuff the bag in your backpack, finally deeming them safe. 

“I’m surprised you remembered I like them.” 

“Obviously.” 

Eren walked you home, babbling on about his day, about cartoons, sometimes picking on you. You found it a little annoying, constantly having this guy follow you around, but his presence became a comfort to you. You thought you’d be done with him once the project was over, but you quickly learned Eren had no intention of backing off. He wanted to walk you home. 

Guys usually weren’t nice to you. Unless this was all a ploy, which was possible. Maybe he just wanted to make you look stupid. Time will tell. 

As you sat in bed that night, you looked at the crumpled bag of candy, and something akin to gratitude bloomed in your chest. You tear open the packet, picking a blue and red worm first and popping it into your mouth. 

How odd, you think. 

Whatever. 

You ate the candy that night, and you could’ve sworn that it somehow tasted sweeter than usual.

~~~

-Current- 

“Hey there.” 

You open your eyes to find a man who is definitely not Eren standing in front of you. 

He runs a hand through his bleach blond hair and flashes you a mischievous look in his dark brown eyes. The kind that makes you clutch your drink closer to your chest. The buzz in your body becomes a shiver as you shift uncomfortably.   

“Hey,” your tone is curt, borderline uninviting. Eren said to make friends, but you were certain this stranger didn’t come to you just for a conversation. 

“What’s a cute thing like you doing all alone?” 

“I’m not alone, I’m actually–”

“So your friends just left you here?” He takes a step closer to you, backing you against the counter and grabbing the cup from your hand, ditching it on the counter. “Come hang out with me instead.” 

“I’m good actually, I think I’m just gonna stay here.” You put on a brave front, begging your voice not to betray you. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time.” He grabs your now unoccupied hand and leans in closer, close enough that the acrid scent of beer, cigarettes and sweat fills your senses with his every exhale and you tilt your head away to escape the smell. 

“Hey man, she said she’s good.” 

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Eren’s voice. You look at him with wide eyes, silently asking for help.

The blond bares his teeth in a sardonic smile.

“Who’s this? Your guard dog?”

Eren’s brow twitches. It’s one of his tells, a sign that his patience is wearing thin. You know better than to provoke Eren with the temper he has. It almost makes you feel sorry for the blond if he wasn’t actively harassing you. 

“Yeah and I bite, now back the fuck off.” 

His sweaty hand tightens on yours. 

“I’m good, man.” 

“I said get the fuck off.”

Eren charges forward and shoves the man away from you by his shoulders. He stands between you like an impenetrable wall, towering over the man who fucked around with Eren Jaeger’s temper and was about to find out. 

The man staggers back, hitting the opposite countertop. He brushes off his wounded pride with a scoff. 

“Lay off dude, I’m just trying to get laid like everyone else here. You can have her, she’s a fucking prude anyways.” 

You could choke on the tension building in the air. Eren is seething. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said I’m just trying to get my dick wet but this stuck up bitch isn’t cooperating.” 

The insult might’ve stung if you weren’t so terrified of what was going to happen next. Eren’s gaze lowers, eyes intense like he’s contemplating something while fidgeting idly with the thick metal band on his middle finger. Like he’s making a choice. 

“Is that so?” 

You feel a chill run down your spine at the poison laced in Eren’s voice. 

“Yeah, have her to yourself. That is if you can get her to spread her legs for you-“ 

Eren made his choice. His fist connects with the blond’s cheek, skin splitting under his ring, making him stagger and clutch his face. It takes only a second for his expression to shift from shock to pure rage.

Not even a second after you get out of the way, the stranger charges forward and throws Eren onto the counter by the front of his shirt. His fist slams into Eren’s nose with an audible crunch.

Eren’s knee shoots up, nailing his opponent in the balls hard enough to make even you grimace. Low blow. The man swears loud, doubling over in pain, and Eren takes advantage by uppercutting the blonde in the eye. 

The quarrel gathers a small group of people into the kitchen, their murmurs drowning out the House music blasting in the other room. 

The man lands a hit on Eren’s brow, splitting the skin, bright red blood immediately gushing towards Eren’s eye. 

“Porco!” 

You hear another man shout from behind you. 

The man you now recognize as Porco turns around towards the voice. Eren pushes up, but Porco is too slow to react. Fists continue to fly while Reiner pushes his way through the crowd, nudging you out of the way to separate the two.  

“Galliard! Jaeger! Step off!” Reiner’s voice bellows. He grabs Porco by the scruff, like a kitten, yanking him backwards. 

“He’s fucking crazy!” Porco spits out, his face battered and bruised in mere seconds. 

Eren’s eyes still narrow in on Porco. 

“Ren, come on.” You murmur, grabbing onto his arm. 

At first, Eren doesn’t budge under your hands. It takes a couple of tries before he allows you to drag him out, eyes never once leaving Porco. You don’t let go of his arm until you’ve exited the house, when your feet finally make contact with the sidewalk, finally trusting that he won’t go running back. 

“What the fuck was that Eren?” 

His silence had never been so loud. His body heaves with every breath, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

“You can’t just beat people up!” 

“He was being a fucking dick!” 

You start down the sidewalk, choosing to ditch your car for the night. The last thing you need is to be pulled over for intoxicated driving, no matter how sober you felt after that altercation. Your hand remains tight around Eren’s. The neighborhood looks different at night but you piece together your location. The campus convenience store is nearby – you’ve been there countless times before with Eren, whether to get a quick lunch or to load up on snacks before horror movie screenings at the local theater. You could probably walk the aisles blindfolded. 

Eren’s forced to wait outside as you didn’t want to scare the shop owner, or track blood all over his tile floors. Antibiotic cream, bandaids, and a pack of frozen peas. You can make do with this. 

You leave the bodega, fishing through the plastic bag slung over your arm.

“Here,” you toss the pack of frozen peas over your shoulder for Eren to catch. “Put these on your nose, the cold will help with the swelling in the meantime. I’ll clean you up when I can find a good place to sit.” 

Eren obliges, trailing behind you, pouting like a scolded child. 

Just around the corner is a residential park, one you had spent countless hours in despite neither of you actually living in that neighborhood. It’s empty at this time of night, and a quiet spot to sit down was ideal. 

You force Eren to sit on a swing, standing between his splayed legs. Like a baby giraffe, you think. He trains his eyes up at you while you get to work, still holding the frozen peas against his nose. 

You uncap the antibiotic ointment and tend to the wound on his brow. It looks like it stings, you try your best to not wince at the thought, but Eren’s face remains unchanging. Just staring up at you with emerald eyes, looking almost a little reflective. You’re sure he’s still thinking about the fight, replaying it in his head like a highlight reel of Eren Jaeger’s best hits. 

Silence settles between you. There were so many words you wanted to say, but you had no idea where to start. 

Sighing, you settle on: “Why’d you do it?” 

Eren’s answer is unsatisfyingly simple. “He was being a dick to you.” 

“I could’ve handled it myself.” 

“Yeah,” Eren scoffs, tone laced with sarcasm. “You seemed to be doing a great job at that.” 

You bite your tongue and rip a bandage out of its paper to cover up the wound, then observe your handiwork. 

It’s late. You’re tired, the buzz has long since worn off. Wordlessly, you slump into the adjacent swing. 

“Touché.” 

Eren’s demeanor shifts into one more casual, his anger fizzled out. 

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself?” 

“Maybe I don’t wanna make a scene. It’s not a big deal anyways, it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.” 

You feel your stomach tighten. Ever since the day you met Eren, he was always so understanding of you. He looked out for you. 

You sigh, idly tracing marks in the sand with your foot. You had been to this same park countless times before, making these same shapes in the sand, but tonight felt different. 

“Why do you care so much?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

From the corner of your eye you see Eren’s long legs stretch forward in front of him. He produces a carton of pre-rolled cigarettes from his pocket and slots one between his lips. His thumb strikes the wheel of his lighter once, twice, before producing a flame that illuminates his face. You watch silently as he lights the end of his joint, exhaling that first cloud of smoke into the night air.  

“You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 

Your heart clenches in your chest. It wasn’t like you were unaware that you were his best friend, but Eren wasn’t the most sentimental person. He wasn’t one for vocalizing his thoughts, or being mushy about his feelings. You knew this about him, so his sincerity always struck you. Every once in a while he would say something that caught you by surprise, making your breath seize in your lungs. 

Eren was a lot of things – brash, impulsive, and annoying – but he also cared about you like nobody else. 

The pungent, earthy smell quickly hits your nose. When you first started hanging out with Eren, you couldn’t stand the smell. Your nose would pinch up in disgust while you watched him get high, but now the scent became familiar to you. It was something comforting, like late nights in the summer when you had no agenda. Like walks to the nearby store to stock up on candy, or deep conversations underscored by low music. 

It reminded you of Eren. 

It reminded you of home. 

“Wow,” you glance at Eren, lips cracking a smile. Your hands hold the swing chains tight, the cold metal biting into your palms. 

“What?” 

“Never would have pegged you for such a sentimentalist, Eren.” 

“You don’t peg me at all.” He responds. 

You try to hold back a smile but it shows through. No matter what, you’re determined to continue poking fun at him. 

“Who knew you had such a bleeding heart.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, a smile threatening to break around the joint. He plucks it from his mouth for a breath of fresh air instead, the silver of his rings glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, shut up.” 

“I’m serious. Did you pull that from a movie? Maybe overhear someone else say it?” You keep poking lightheartedly. 

“You’re the one who asked. Plus, you know you love me.” 

At this point you break eye contact, settling on the moon instead. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

You meant it too. 

You weren’t sure when Eren started to matter so much to you. At first he was unbearable – a delinquent who’s favorite pastime was pestering you – but slowly, he turned into a face you expected to see at every turn. Not having his presence felt unsettling, and you found yourself dreading classes without him. 

Eren extends the hand holding the joint. He still offers, knowing you always decline. 

“Want some?”

“No thanks.” 

“Okay. Just thought I’d ask. What with me being a sentimentalist and all.” 

The two of you laugh softly. It always felt like this with Eren. Easy. You had your habits and he had his, just like anyone else, but your friendship felt just as easy as breathing. It was hard to imagine what your life was like before him. 

Eren ditches his finished joint into the sand, squashing it down under his shoe.

“Wanna go somewhere else? I feel bad inviting you to that lame ass party. I think the lanes are still open, or the arcade.” 

The thought was tempting. You did love going to the arcade. It may not seem like much to anyone else, but it felt special to you. Good music, timeless classics, and an owner that hooked you up with extra tokens as a thank you for keeping the business alive. Not far from that was the bowling alley. Neither of you were good at bowling, if anything, you’ve probably watched Eren accidentally throw himself down the lane more than the actual ball. 

As nice as hanging out longer sounded, a feeling of responsibility gnaws inside you. 

“I shouldn’t,” you sigh. “I have a test coming up.” 

“A test on a Friday night?” Eren questions.  

“No, it’s in a couple days. I know you don’t know this but there’s a thing called studying that people sometimes do when they care about academics.” 

“Studying?” Eren plays along with your bit, sounding out the word like it’s unfamiliar to him. “I don’t know, I think my method works just fine.” 

“Just winging it? Yeah, right. It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far, Eren Jaeger.”

Eren is the first to stand up.

“Always so cruel to me.” He fakes a somber face.

“Sure I am,” you stand as well, smoothing out your clothes. “Walk me back?” 

///

The walk back is pleasant, though the cold is biting. There weren’t many students on campus around this time, with winter break quickly approaching. Anyone who wasn’t already home for the holidays was either tucked away in their dorms, or out partying. As for you, ending the semester meant drowning in a sea of tests. You were looking forward to a break. 

Eren walks beside you, hands in his pockets. He didn’t live on campus, so you appreciate him walking with you. Eren had a small apartment a couple blocks away, a graduation gift from his parents who were amazed he made it out of high school. It was a comfortable place for you to hang out, seeing as your dorm wasn’t exactly fit for hosting.

It wasn’t that your dorm was inhospitable to say, however it wasn’t exactly the marriott either. Eren referred to it as the pig sty, but you thought he was exaggerating when he said that. Sure you would occasionally leave some clothes here and some trash there, but it was under control. In your opinion at least. You didn’t have time to keep things spotless. You were running yourself thin between school, work, and Eren. He could be considered a full time job all by himself. 

Eren’s house was nicer anyway. The furniture was simplistic and things were never left out. It seemed like the opposite of what you would expect for someone like him. You had two theories on why things were spotless at his bachelor pad. One, his doting mother Carla raised him to be tidy. His house was never messy growing up so he got used to it. Two, Eren constantly had… how do you say, lady friends over frequently. Couldn’t get laid if your house was a mess. Either way, his place was nice and yours was not.

Your strides slow as you approach the dorm building, pulling your key card from your wallet and tapping it on the lock, hearing it whirr and click, the light flashing green. You reach for the handle but Eren beats you to it, holding the door open for you. The warm air flows from inside the building, fanning across your cold face, the sensation prickling your skin. 

“I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to stand you up, that was a dick move of me.” 

“Psh, it’s okay,” you shrug. “All things considered, I’d say I had a fun night.” 

You hear a ding further down the hallway where the elevator stood. Metal doors open to reveal two girls about your age chatting inside. Their eyes lock with Eren’s, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. 

The girls pass by as you enter the building, whispering and giggling to each other when they catch sight of Eren. He flashes a grin and flicks his eyes up and down as they leave before returning his attention back to you. It’s nothing new. You weren’t blind, even you could admit Eren was good looking – and you weren’t stupid either. Eren’s love life is a never-ending story. A long list of girlfriends, and an even longer list of hookups. You had long gotten used to the shameless flirting. 

You and Eren make your way to the elevator. Your finger presses into the button, a comfortable silence falling over you as you wait. 

The elevator dings. Your feet only need to move so far before you find yourself at the familiar front door, decorated in construction paper cut-outs with your name written in sharpie. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” Eren asks. “I work from 10 to 2.” 

Eren works at a small smoke shop by campus. All of the other employees were students as well, and most of the customers were also students with drooping eyes. You weren’t sure how it began, but you had a tradition of going to Eren’s work to drop him off lunch when he worked. You didn’t go every time he had a shift, but often enough.

“Of course, I’ll bring you lunch. Want anything special?” 

“Nah, surprise me.” 

You pull Eren into a hug, eyes fluttering shut as his scent fills your senses. Spices, smoke with a subtle bite. His arms squeeze around yours before withdrawing, sending you off with a pat on your back. 

“Okay! Get home safe. Try not to get into any more fights on the way home.” 

“No promises!” Eren calls from over his shoulder as he starts down the hallway. You click your tongue, watching as he enters the elevator and disappears behind the doors, smiling the entire time. 

The lock clicks behind you. Tiredness hits you all at once, feet dragging the short distance from your front door to your bed until you flop down in it, pulling your laptop off your nightstand and squinting at the bright screen. Sleep was calling your name, but you were already behind on studying and didn’t want to spend your winter break making up for a failed test. 

At least 15 minutes. Yeah, that won’t hurt. 

You stretch a couple of times, trying to force the exhaustion from your body. 

You make it as far as logging into the student portal before your phone lights up beside you, and you don’t even try to resist the distraction. It could only be one person at this time of night. 

Eren: What’s up? 

You: I don’t know, you texted me. 

Dots appear on your screen, then disappear. You can picture him now, walking down the sidewalk with one hand holding his phone, the other probably holding a lit cigarette. You can picture the smoke and warm breath puffing into the air as he laughs. 

Eren: Do you miss me horribly yet? 

You accept that studying is futile and shut your laptop, instead flopping over and letting your back hit the mattress. Laying down has never felt so good. 

You: Yes, I’m beside myself right now. 

Eren: I can always turn back around. The night is still young. 

You: No, my bed is calling my name. Goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: I was gonna make something to eat but I’m not sure what. 

You: I said goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: You’re no fun. 

The screen starts to blur as your eyes droop, body succumbing to exhaustion. Your arm goes limp, dropping onto your chest. You feel your phone buzz once more before falling asleep. 

Eren: Goodnight shortstacks. 

Tag List: @dinolvrrr, @constawrites

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic or any of my other fics please let me know, jus specify what you want to be added to

[verysium]

blue lock boys as assassins (au i guess?), i hope you could include Oli, Yuki and Barou!

anon you have me at crossroads because the very idea of an assassin AU spawns an infinite glitch of possibilities....🤔 like mafia underground syndicate assassin? or like solitary mysterious hitman type of assassin? or even better could this be ninja/shinobi stealth warrior assassin? i'm going give a general description though:

oliver is the laid-back good guy. escorts you to the bar, drinks on him. claps every passerby on the back as if he personally knows them. you think he's alright. not too handsome and just the right amount of ruggedness. he offers you a good time, so you two hit off for the night. and that's where everything starts to go downhill. one shoot-out, intense knife fight, and grueling police chase later, you pant for dear life against the side of a brick wall in some torn up alley because it turns out your one-night stand was actually an assassin for japan's largest underground syndicate.

you grip your broken heel tightly in one hand, body collapsed against the brick cornerstone as you seethe, the condensation of your gasping breath forming tendrils in the cold night. you reach up a hand to wipe the sweat off your face. it comes back red, the meticulous hours of applying your makeup wasted when you see the damning smears of lipstick. this was not the type of fun you signed up for on a friday night.

"oliver, what the fuck was that?"

he laughs sheepishly, cocking his gun back with ease before he lights up a cigarette, palm cupping the flame. he turns, then walks over two bodies without blinking, suede shoes clicking against the cobblestone. you're angry at him, but he doesn't care, wrapping an arm around your waist, nose buried in your hair.

"just a side hustle, sweetheart. come on, let's get you home."

yukimiya is the sweet, unassuming literature student. he came home from university to help his grandmother out over the summer, manning the front counter of her antique oddities shop. you like him. he's awkwardly charming, a little too zealous for the job, but still endearingly kooky. you have him pinned down as the sad poet type. the kind of person who wears the same knitted cardigan every day, complete with horn-rimmed glasses and 1940's gingham elbow patches. he can handwrite a sonnet in less than a minute, gift-wrap your purchases in record time. you let him buzz around you while you make your daily visit to his shop, listening to him talk about the collections of radioactive glassware, the vintage phonograph in the corner, and the rare edition of Gutenberg bibles sitting silently in the old book section.

"you know, you really don't have to do that."

he peers up at you owlishly, dark brow furrowed before you point out the spool of twine in his hand, the way he's carefully folding the newspaper around the edges of the new vase you purchased. he laughs, shrugging off your concerns with a wave. you catch a brief whiff of his cologne, the subtle scent of mint and toluene. maybe a hint of vanillin too.

"don't worry about it miss! gift-wrapping is a free service. i'll even add two complimentary trinkets if you'd like. we have a clearance section that's been slow to sell. you could even take a few for free."

"i'm alright. thanks for the offer though." he nods, fingers delicately tying a bow before he places your vase in a bag, fluffing up the tissue paper on top. you smile to yourself when you see the intricate lettering of the card he snuck in. must've been another one of the love poems he wrote. you know how the saying goes.

roses are red. violets are blue.

by the time you step out the shop, the door chime twinkles in the distance, a peal of bells to signal your departure. from behind the windows and glass paneling, he watches your figure trail down the sidewalk, winter coat fluttering in the wind. his eyes darken beneath the tortoiseshell frame, finger moving down the yellowed pages of his accounting book before crossing off another name. he doesn't even look up when he hears the loud honking and screams, the sound of a body hitting the pavement.

one is dead, and so are you.

barou is probably the most obvious one. very upfront about the work he does. the only caveat is that you can never trace his work back to him. he cleans up way too well. always shoots his targets through the eye because it's less of a mess that way. leaves absolutely no evidence at the murder scene. i picture you as one of the unfortunate victims caught up in the fray. collateral damage, as he likes to call it.

"you know, i've never met someone so equally stubborn and stupid."

you glare at him, throat sore and aching as you scream through your gag, cursing him out in every language in existence. he merely stares down at you, arms crossed and eyebrow arched in amusement. you struggle for a good minute, flopping around like a fish as you try to free yourself from your bonds. how the hell do you go from taking an errand trip to the grocery store to getting kidnapped and tied up in a man's trunk?

"what's that? couldn't hear you from all the noise."

god, you want to strangle him. you heave a breath, swallowing the bitter taste of your own spit when he finally unties the gag, your lungs gasping for air.

"i said...you think i'm the stupid one? you're the one who tied me up!"

"because you wouldn't stop squealing like a pig."

"you were trying to kill me!" he snorts derisively at your comment, his red eyes piercing and haughty. the loud thump of the trunk door closing reverberates throughout the parking garage before you find yourself face first on the pavement, body dumped unceremoniously on the ground. he looks down at you dismissively, wiping the dust off his hands.

"nah, i'd save myself the hassle."

your eyebrow twitches in irritation, jaw dropping at that violation. oh, it was personal now. he deserved capital punishment. strangling would be too merciful. you try to get back on your feet, a task that proves all the more difficult with your legs bound and arms twisted behind your back. he merely waits, as if knowing when you'd finally give up, sinking at his feet in defeat.

"you done?" you nod your head, slumping down into the concrete. your voice becomes small and sheepish by the time you raise your face to look at him.

"can't you just...let me go? i promise i won't say anything." he rolls his eyes, swinging you over his shoulder in one fell swoop, locking the car with a resounding beep. you start to panic when you feel him carrying you to the garage exit, vision swirling with nothing but concrete and the solid sound of his combat boots.

"wait....wait! i swear to god! please just let me go. i won't tell a soul."

"nope. can't have any witnesses." you feel a handkerchief come up at engulf your nose and mouth, the sweet smell cloying and sharp. you start to squirm in his arms.

"wait! no...please! if you touch me again, i'll scream." his grin is the last thing you see in the darkness, sharp canines brushing against the shell of your ear.

"oh, you'll do so much more than scream, darling."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only For You

Thorn x female!reader

Summary: Thorn hides a huge part of his life from you and he's constantly leaving for long periods of time. You're not sure you'll ever know all of his secrets, but you know you're tired of saying goodbye.

Notes/warnings: angsty/fluffy, but nothing else really. mistakes, I'm sure. I did my best.

Words: 1354

---

“Going where?” you ask, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to shield your bare skin from the cold. He shrugs out of his nylon, sorry-excuse-for-a-coat and wraps it around your shoulders, but it’s a useless effort. In a thin t-shirt, he’ll be frozen in no time and you’ll be left to trade the coat back and forth as he stands on your front porch in the winter’s stinging air. 

His hands slide into his jeans front pockets. “I can’t tell you.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

With a huff, you ask, “What do you know, Thorn?”

He flinches. A hand comes out of his pocket to run over his buzzed hair. You can’t count how many times you’ve asked him these questions, and you kick yourself for bothering when the answers have not once strayed from their cookie-cutter precision. He never knows. Or he does and refuses to tell you. Wherever the truth lies, it doesn’t make its way to you. But the hurt in his mossy-green eyes is not for the secrets. It’s not for the disappearing act he forces you through. It’s reserved solely for the brand new weariness in your tone. 

This is not what you do. Your pattern with him has been consistent from the beginning. A month after he first kissed you, three weeks after you first slept together, you received the same pieced-together speech: ‘I have to leave. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know for how long.’ And you provided the same response you always do; a response you weren’t aware at the time would be commonly leaving your mouth; a response he’s not once requested, but with every feature of his face, pleads for: ‘I’ll be here when you get back’. Then he smiles, as always, and kisses you, and you pull him into your bed only for him to be gone by the time you wake. 

But you just broke the pattern with that tone of yours. It’s less welcoming, offering inadequate reassurance that when he knocks on your door in one or two or three months it’ll open. 

Thorn swallows hard as he fidgets in place, and you feel tendrils of guilt spread throughout your system. Thorn doesn’t fidget. Fidgeting means nerves. Nerves mean anxiety. And anxiety is not a well-worn jacket on the man who weaseled his way into your heart. It doesn’t fit. That jacket isn’t made in his size and it feels no different than when a toddler is squeezed into an outfit their parents refuse to accept they’ve grown out of. 

“What I know is that I want to come back to you,” he says. A beat passes and the cloud of nervous energy is shoved aside, likely a required skill for whatever the hell he does when he leaves you. He steps closer. Your heart beats harder. “I will walk up here and knock on this door and wait for you to let me in. Like I always do.”

Lips parting, you sink further into the scent of cologne that long ago seeped into the interior fibers of his coat. It’s an instinctual comfort while everything inside of your body fights your mind.

Fingers twitch to reach out and jerk him inside, but if you do that there’s no chance you’ll resist him; no chance you will even make it to your bed. With one foot through the door, he’ll have you against the wall or on the floor with the hallway runner serving as the only barrier between your back and the chill of the hardwood. With his tongue on your neck, you will forget how tired you are of his rollercoastering in and out of your life. His fingers digging into your flesh will crack your icy determination to no longer miss him until it’s a melted puddle beneath you. His cock deep inside of you will demand you let go of letting him go. 

Well, it’ll demand you let go of considering letting him go. It’s not what you want. If you had your pick of clichéd happy endings, your wicked-smart, tattooed-up, former—you question—criminal would settle in with you. But, no matter how hard you try, you can’t form that image in your mind. Thorn with a ring on his finger, you with his baby growing in your belly, a house you can share—if that exists somewhere, you’re losing hope that it’s on your timeline. 

“Thorn, how long is this going to last?”

“I told you, I don’t—”

“No,” you interrupt with a shake of your head. “Not just this time. All of it. When does it stop? When do you stay?”

His shoulders slump the slightest with his heavy sigh. “Sweetness, I made promises. I’ve got people relying on me.”

“And what about me? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, praying the struggle of holding back your tears has slipped under his radar despite that not being a possibility before. The only tears Thorn doesn’t catch are the ones he isn’t around to witness. “What if I left you all the time for reasons I refused to tell you about? You couldn’t find me, you couldn’t contact me, you didn’t know if I was safe, you wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if I might be dea—”

“Stop!” he snaps, then quieter, repeats, “Stop.” His eyes fall from yours to the stone of your porch and enough seconds pass that there’s an awkwardness to the silence. “I would lose my mind if it was you, Ok?” he says, connecting to your stare. “I’d go fucking crazy.”

“And somehow you expect me not to.”

His hands move to cup your face, thumbs stroking back and forth over your cheekbones. “I don’t expect anything of you, sweetness. I can't, because it wouldn't be fair. But it doesn't change the truth that you don’t leave my thoughts. When I'm gone, every free second I have is spent thinking about coming home to you.”

Except coming home often means adding to your worries. There’s not one instance in the time you’ve known him that he has returned to you without bruises at every stage of healing scattered across his body. But you don’t speak of them. Neither do you speak of the split lip, cut eyebrow, sliced skin, and the worst of them: the hole in his arm that was shoddily stitched up, leaving a permanent reminder of the secret life he keeps from you. 

Often, when he is asleep, you run your finger over the raised skin, simultaneously thankful that he made it back from such an ordeal and cursing that he left to begin with. Then, from the twisted mess those feelings cause in your head, you find that your pain at seeing him hurt always develops a branch of anger.

Despite all of the blows you know he takes, you're not quick enough to stop yourself from throwing one of your own. “Assuming you’ll be able to come home at all…right?” 

His eyes widen before they squeeze shut. Sharp jawline sharpens more as teeth clench. Thorn takes a deep breath, then proves that his forehead resting against yours is all it takes for your anger to fizzle. 

Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you finally allow the tears to spill. They pour with abandon, overwhelming you the way a tidal wave might overtake a small ship in its ocean.

“I know whatever you do is stupidly dangerous,” pushes through your sudden sobs and sniffles. 

“That’s why I don’t tell you what it is,” he whispers as his nose nudges yours. “But I’m careful, sweetness. I’m careful because of you.”

Your lips freeze from the tears that reach them. The salty liquid under the chilled air bleeds away all moisture until his mouth claims a kiss. Not soft, not sweet, but beautifully burning. And from that burn, you find your calm. From familiarity, you find peace. From him, you find home. 

When you separate, your breaths form a puff of heat that shoves away the cold. “I won’t let you down,” he promises. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

---

A/N: there is very likely going to be a part 2 to this, assuming people would want to read it.

tags: @wkndwlff @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @mamachasesmayhem @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl

[dandelions-143]

Sinners

Felix Masterlist

All member Masterlist

Pairing: non Idol, bad boy Felix x rebellious Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, this one’s pretty tame. Intense make out session, a few dirty words, thats about it.

Wk: 3976k

Summary: Felix who is struggling with himself finds y/n at church of all places. With a rebellious attitude and a craving for adventure y/n joins him for a night of criminal activities. Things heat up between Felix and y/n but, as his obsession with y/n grows little does he know just how out of reach you truly are.

A/n: (there’s a lot of internal dialog/thoughts in this one) This one might be a bit of a flop… but I’ll let you guys be the judge of that. I hope it’s not too boring but, I wanted Felix’s fic to start out a bit softer than the others. I hope you enjoy it!

The Church was nearly empty as Felix walked through the doors. His long blond hair was pulled back in a low bun. His black dress pants along with his navy blue sweater fit him perfectly. He walked down the aisle, his hands plunged into his pockets.

The Catholic Church was a place he had attended as a child. His mother would bring him here religiously. It was a place that felt like home to him when his own home was too much. The marble floors clicked beneath his black dress shoes as he made his way to the confessional. After his mother left him and his father he still came. Begging his nannies to bring him back, then he just liked being away from his abusive father but, these days it felt like he was trying to find solace in the person he had become.

He took a deep breath before entering the confessional. Felix made the sign of the cross as he greeted the priest like he always did, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” Felix simply confessed his sins as he always had. Some were the same.. stealing cars, laundering money, drugs, sex. He was not shy in confessing what was lying heavy on his heart and mind but, despite knowing and feeling bad about the things he does… he also lived for the thrill of it all.

He ended his confession with, “I am sorry for all of these sins and the sins I cannot remember.” Felix sat in the confessional waiting for the Priest to give him guidance but, there was a very long pause. “Father?” His deep voice was only above a whisper. Just as Felix began to think he had been talking to no one a very sweet and angelic voice spoke up, “Wow, you really do all that shit? Can I join in the fun?”

Felix’s brows went up in shocked surprise then down into scrunched confusion. “What? Who the hell?” He said as he opened his confessional door only to rip open the door next to his. A very pretty girl sat cross legged in a plaid skirt with a nirvana tshirt hanging loosely off one shoulder. As Felix looked down at you he noticed the end of what looked to be a scar running across your left cheek. He was instantly curious about it but, when his eyes met yours all coherent thoughts halted. It was like time stopped for him that is until you spoke up. Your big eyes widened even more at the sight of him, “Oh, you’re pretty.”

Felix faltered just a bit at your boldness and your beauty. “Who are you? Where’s the priest?” You stood up, smoothing your skirt out a little and took a step towards him. You were a little less than a head shorter than him. He smelled devine, Felix’s cologne wafting out in small floral tendrils around you. “I murdered him.” You said so matter of fact that for a second he wasn’t sure if you were joking or not.

You slipped past him and walked towards the back pews. Felix watched you walk away; his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he decided to follow you.

“Hey wait!” Felix grabbed your arm gently to stop you. Standing just outside the church doors now you spun around, an amused smile on your face.

When your eyes connected to his.. Jesus Christ he was pretty. You raised a brow waiting for him to say something. Felix finally let go of your arm like it had given him an electric shock. “Uhh, I’m Felix Lee.” He held out his hand for you, “What’s your name?” You smiled even brighter at him but, you didn’t take his hand.

“I like your accent, Felix Lee.” You said, a playful tone to your voice as you began to back away from him. Felix only smiled back at you as he dropped his hand to his side. You were walking away now, your back to him, “Hey! You gonna tell me your name?!” He shouted over the busy city street.

You turned around just long enough to shout, “Y/n L/n!” You walked backward for a few steps keeping your eyes on his before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

“Man.. she was.. she’s...just something.” Felix was leaned against one of the stolen cars from the other night. A deep blue mechanic’s suit on, half undone and a rag flung across his right shoulder to wipe his hands on. He was currently explaining his interaction with you that morning in the church to Han who was working on something beneath the hood of that same car Felix was leaning against.

Han poked his head out from under the hood so he could fix his round eyes on Felix, “You literally said two sentences to the girl.” Seungmin was behind the big metal desk they kept towards the back of the shop. He was filing away some papers that made them look like a legit mechanics shop but, it was all bullshit for the most part.

“Yeah but, there was a vibe, yah know?” Felix sighed and kept scrolling through his phone trying to find you on any and every social media cite. As Seungmin got up and began walking over to the two men the quiet garage was filled with a loud BANG! “Son of a mother fuck-“ Han was holding his right hand and jumping up and down. Obviously in pain.

“What the hell happened?” Felix asked as he walked over to Han’s side, meeting Seungmin in the process. “I mashed my finger trying to get those bolts out!” Han yelled at the pretty blonde and looked down to assess the damage.

“Let me see..” Seungmin took Han’s hand in his and looked at the now very red middle finger he had mashed. “You’ll be fine, just be more careful.” Seungmins soft yet steady voice seemed to calm Han a bit. “I’ll go get you some ice.

Han glanced over at Felix who was pouting at him, “Poor baby mashed his wittle finger.”

“If you would get your head out of your ass and help shit like that wouldn’t happen!!” Han raised his voice again only making Felix chuckle at his expense.

For two weeks straight Felix had attended every single service the church was having. He even made it a point to go to confessional almost daily in hopes that he would run into you again.

It was late in the evening as Felix sat out on the church steps. The church doors had long since closed and Felix was feeling a bit defeated. The man was confused at himself.. wondering why you were constantly on his mind. It was like he was addicted and he knew nothing about you yet.

Felix pulled out his phone in one last attempt to try and find you among the many social medias. As he was scrolling through the many profiles with your name a familiar soft, sweet voice immediately stopped his scrolling. “Stalking me now?” You stood next to him, in ripped blue jeans and an over sized black Britney Spears tshirt. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, only a few pieces of hair fell over your left cheek where the scar was.

Felix was on his feet so fast he almost stumbled over. “Y/n, hi.” He said with that very pretty grin of his. His brown eyes seemed to light up the moment you two locked gazes. “What are you doing out here? The church is closed.” Your eyes fully assessed him now. He was not just pretty but handsome as well. His freckles were the best part of his features you thought to yourself.

Felix laughed awkwardly and pushed some blond strands of hair out of his eyes, “oh yea, I was just um, killing time. I have a job to get to in a little bit.” Silence fell over you two for a beat, “but I could ask you the same thing.” Felix was looking at you as if he was seeing the sunset for the first time. A soft wonderment in his eyes.

You watched his full lips move as he spoke which made Felix even more nervous. Then your eyes dipped down to his neck seeing some black ink there.”What’s that?” You boldly reached over and touched the tattoo on his neck.

Felix’s mouth instantly went dry as the pads of your soft fingers lightly grazed over his heated skin. The feeling of you touching him sent little electric shocks directly to his dick. He didn’t even know you, yet you had consumed him for two weeks and now even his body wanted in on this. Felix’s mind was reeling. When you dropped your hand you mumbled, “Oh sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Oh! No! Uh it’s a dragon.” Felix laughed softly, “My Korean name is Yongbok. I just thought it was fitting.” You confidently stepped closer, tugging down his collar just enough to admire the intricate artwork tattooed there. “Yongbok” you said his name slowly, as if you were tasting it.. tasting him. Felix swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly in his throat.

“I like it.” You seemed to have decided on how you felt about it as you stepped back and placed your hands at your sides. Felix’s face flushed.. what was wrong with him? He never acted this way around any man or woman. People were usually intimidated by him. If not by his interesting look of androgyny then, by his very deep voice. But not you. Instead you were curious, intrigued, and not intimidated at all.

“Well I should be going now. It was nice to see you again, Felix Yongbok.” You had a soft teasing smile playing on your lips as you took a bow and turned to leave. “Hey!” Felix said a little louder than he needed to. He was a bit embarrassed but shrugged it off with a hand carding through his hair. “Do you want to come with me?” The question just tumbled out of his mouth before he could really think about what he was asking.

He really didn’t expect you to say yes but, you surprised the freckled faced man when you looked up at him with your big eyes and said with no hesitation, “I have nothing better to do, sure.” Felix hesitated for a split second, Chan was going to kill him. “Oh, okay. Um this way.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and lead you down the street to his car. A black on black Benz.

You whistled when you saw the expensive vehicle, “Oh so you have money, money.” Felix gave an awkward laugh and opened the door for you. He didn’t respond with words, only giving a little nod as he watched you get in. Your scent wafting up to him, sweet vanilla and a hint of something spicey. She even smells addictive… he thought as he finally closed the door and walked around to get in the drivers side.

He should be trying to figure out how to explain you to Chan but, he had other things on his mind. Like the way you crossed your legs, the way your hair was blowing about your face, that mischievous smile that seemed to always be painted on your lips.

As he took his time driving to his destination he glanced over at you every now and then. You seemed so confident and relaxed as you leaned back in his passenger seat. The window down, your hand outstretched feeling the rush of wind as he drove down the highway.

Felix cleared his throat, “So, tell me about yourself.” You looked over at him that little smirk stretching up one corner of your pretty lips. Fuckin gorgeous.. he thought. “What am I suppose to tell you?” You were not one for small talk. There usually wasn’t a lot to tell. Felix came to a stop at a red light. “Well.. where are you from? Your favorite color? Do you have siblings? What do you do for a living? Things like that.”

You instantly began to giggle. Not exactly at Felix but, you thought all of that was irrelevant. Felix felt his cheeks flush with slight embarrassment as he put the car in motion once again. “What’s so funny? Is there something wrong with getting to know you?” He asked just as he pulled up to a large white house.

Your soft laughter died down and you watched him for a moment. The silence was killing him, “I just want to know you, y/n thats-“ you cut him off with a finger pressed to his soft lips. You gave him an exasperated sigh. “You talk too much, handsome.” You moved your face closer to his. Your lips mere centimeters from his own, “If you want to really talk.. you can talk between my legs.”

Felix felt his heart pounding out of his chest. The shock of your words hitting him hard. He wanted to move in, pull you in and kiss those lips he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of. This close he could see your scar clearer despite covering most of it with your hair. He wanted to move that hair and press his lips to it so bad.

“Felix! What are you doing?!” Someone whisper shouted bringing him out of his thoughts. You moved away from him to get a better look at the man standing in front of the car. He was with six other pissed off looking men. “Are these your besties?” You asked sarcastically and got out of the car before Felix could make a move.

“Shit..” Felix said under his breath as he got out as well and walked around the car to your side. “Listen I know what you’re thinking but, she’s cool. It’ll be fine.” Felix tried to explain before anything was said. All of their eyes were on you. Judging you in a curious way except for one. The only one that spoke, who had dark short curly hair and tattoos covering most of him.

He stepped up to you and looked you up and down, trying to intimidate you. Then he moved over to Felix. His cold eyes boring into him, “I’ll ask questions later but, if she fucks this up you’re taking all the blame. You understand!” You furrowed your brows, who did this man think he was! You thought to yourself. You thought Felix was his friend not his minion.

Your eyes scanned the others, some of them had small propane torches, others had gasoline cans. “So let me guess we are burning someone’s house down?” You spoke up, interrupting whatever that asshole was saying to Felix. His head snapped to you and his eyes narrowed, “Why? You scared?”

The bulkier man began to walk closer to you but, Felix grabbed his arm. “Chan.” Felix’s dominant voice of warning made your eyes jump to him and a small throb in your core made you want to press your thighs together. “No..” you said as you walked past him, grabbing a torch out of Chans hand. “I want to be the first to light the bitch up.”

You kept walking as they all stared after you. “Well.. you heard her!” Felix said to Chan. Chans cold demeanor seemed to soften a bit and he shook his head. “Im killing you later.”

Chan led the way inside the house through the back, busting down the door. Felix explained to you that this house belonged to one of Chan’s father’s colleagues who had done him dirty. Stiffed him on some drug money or something. The family was currently on vacation and the owner of this home kept a safe somewhere in the house. Their goal was to find the safe, get whatever money was in there, set the house on fire, and leave.

The fact that Felix and his little gang were actual criminals made you like him even more. You knew this wasn’t a smart idea but in all honesty you didn’t care. Your life was horrible and you craved an escape… Felix seemed to be that escape.

Once inside everyone seemed to begin their search. Pairing off going in separate directions. You of course followed Felix upstairs into various rooms. It was dark but he kept a warm hand in yours, making sure you stayed close to him. The heat from his body made you want to be even closer to him and in the darkened bedroom you did just that.

You pressed your body into his side shamelessly. Felix stilled, whispering, “What are you doing?” You let go of his hand and even though you could barely see him your hands found their way up his torso to grip his shirt so you could pull him closer. “Have I ever told you that you talk too much.”

You didn’t allow him to utter another word because your lips were on his. Felix didn’t respond at first. The overwhelming reality of your lips on his.. he only sighed as if to say… finally. Just as he felt you pulling away it’s like he woke up and remembered to kiss you back.

His lips were not rushed but firm and oh so inviting. As you put your hands on his face he pushed you back into a dresser. Pressing his larger body against yours and you both fit together so well. As he gripped onto your hips firmly the room seemed to fall away. Felix had never been kissed like this before. He had never gotten lost so deep in a kiss. He felt like his heart was skipping beats. The space around you exploding with an instant connection.. addiction. His hands kept gripping you, pulling up your shirt to feel the smooth skin of your sides, he couldn’t bring you close enough.

His tongue slid deliciously over your own, tasting the sweetness that you were. Thoughts of tasting you in other places made him roll his hips gently into yours. A tiny gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hard erection through his pants which made him smile against your mouth. Satisfied he could get this kind of reaction from you. Felix felt as if he’d been starving.. the taste of you so intoxicating.

He had kissed many people before but he never felt a burn like this.. a deep yearning for more. His hands snaked up your ribcage to palm your breasts over your bra. He was rewarded with a soft moan, your head falling back to expose your delicate neck to his searching lips. Felix would have kept going. He had every intention of ripping those jeans off you, craving to see and feel just how wet you were for him. But, you two were interrupted by Minho’s annoyed voice, “What the fuck, Felix? You can get your dick wet later. We got the money, let’s burn this place and get out of here.”

You reluctantly pulled away from the man that just stole the sole right out of your body. You fixed your shirt and moved towards the door. “Come on, lover boy.” You acted as if you weren’t minutes away from fucking a stranger as you and Felix followed Minho down stairs.

Chan walked up to you holding out a torch, you looked at him confused. “You said you wanted it, right? Here you go.” You licked your lips and looked down at the torch. You were good at talking a big game but, you had never actually done anything like this before. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/n.” Felix said behind you, sensing your uncertainty.

“We don’t have all fuckin night..” the tallest in the group muttered as he eyed you. That was all you needed to make the decision. You took the torch from Chan and turned it on. The flame was orange at first but then turned blue as it grew hotter.

The guys had already doused the place in gasoline, you could tell by the pungent smell in the air. The few others that had torches as well followed your lead and went to various rooms on the bottom floor. One by one fires sprung up, rapidly engulfing the place. You all rushed out of the same door you came through and for a moment the entire group just stood outside watching the furious flames eat away at the once beautiful home.

Only when distant sirens could be heard is when everyone scattered. You and Felix rushed to his Benz and jumped in, peeling off. Adrenaline pumping through both of you. He was letting out excited yells as he raced down the darkened street, you laughing freely in his passenger seat.

“That was fucking amazing!” You yelled to him, the adrenaline slowly dying down between you two. He reached over and gripped your thigh, his eyes meeting yours and you knew exactly what he was thinking. You would be lying if you said you weren’t thinking it too. That heat that you felt earlier when he had his hands and lips on you returning.

It was so wrong… for so many reasons… but you wanted it. You wanted him.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?” Felix spoke softly, worried he may scare you off if he pushed too hard. You wanted to.. fuck did you want to but, you couldn’t. “Changbin, the bigger guy you met tonight.. he’s my roommate but, he won’t be home.” Felix clarified when you didn’t answer right away. “I can’t.. not tonight. Is it alright if you take me home?” You bit your bottom lip, wondering if this would be all you would see of him.

Felix’s smile faltered just a bit but, he recovered quickly. His sweet disposition making him even more handsome to you. “Oh sure, sure. Where do you live?”

You gave him directions to your home, it was nestled right outside the city limits. A small little house. It was your father’s but, he left it to you after he passed. When the car was parked by the curb outside you leaned in and gave him a small peck on his cheek. “Thank you, Felix. I had fun tonight. Who would have thought being a deviant would be so much fun.” That made him laugh, a deep chuckle you felt in your chest.

You began to get out of the car but Felix stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Can I have your number?” His eyes were hopeful, shiny with confidence. You began to open your mouth when your name was being called. “Y/n! Aye girl! Where the hell have you been!” You sighed in frustration and got out of the car fully.

Felix watched as a man not much bigger in build than him come out of the house and stand on the front porch. Of course he was curious as to who the hell that was but you gave him no time for questions. You stopped at the drivers door leaning down to be eye level with Felix. “I’ll find you, okay?” You mumbled, giving felix a small smile but, it didn’t reach your eyes this time and you walked toward your house.

Felix felt a lump in his throat grow as the man grabbed your arm roughly the moment you were close enough. He jerked you up closer to him and drug you inside the house leaving Felix concerned and confused.

Was that her boyfriend? He instantly thought. Couldn’t have been her dad he looked too young.

Felix eventually drove off feeling uneasy and worried for you but, it wasn’t right for him to interfere. Not this early on. But he knew his obsession with you had already begun.

I hope you enjoyed this! Don’t worry the spice will be much spicier in the next parts to this!! Thank you for all the love and thank you for taking the time to read my works. Let me know what you think in the comments! ♥️🖤

Taglist OPEN

@cashtonsbetch @hearts-444lix @moonndustx @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn

[whimsicalpolitical]

I NEED SOME WILD ROSS SMUT LET YOUR IMAGINATION RUN WILD!!!!!!!

One Night- Ross Macdonald x Reader

warning: 18+ mdni, smut, oral (m, f receiving), smoking, choking, spanking (only a bit)

You met him in a pub. He was mesmerizing, his dimples when he was laughing, beard, hair which was put up in a bun. You had to know him, had to speak to him.

You’re still drunk. Drunk when you talked to him and drunk when he was kissing you in the alleyway, his beard scratching the area around your mouth.

He made sure you’re okay with going with him, promising you you’d have a good time.

The room he led you into was huge and absolutely gorgeous, with panoramic windows lining the whole back wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city.

The lights of Glasgow spread out before you, mixing with the dazzling array of stars in the sky. It felt surreal, like stepping into a dream.

Ross walks over to the sofa in the sitting room area and sits down, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I wanna smoke, love, do you mind?"

You shake your head. "No, I don't mind."

He asks again, waving a joint in the air so you could see it. "You sure?"

"Go ahead." you reply, your voice soft but certain.

For a few moments, you stand by the window, taking in the stunning view. The city lights cast a soft, ambient glow into the room, but soon, your attention shifts back to him, the real view you want to admire.

Ross takes off his coat and throws it over the back of the sofa, the movement making his muscles flex. He stretches his arms up, showing just how big and defined they are, the motion pulling his shirt tighter against his chest and highlighting every contour of his physique.

The sight of him turns you on more and more with each passing second. He bends forward to grab the ashtray and brings it closer, his movements fluid.

He grabs his lighter and lights the joint, taking a long drag and inhaling deeply. He leans back on the seat, throwing his head back over the edge as he exhales the smoke into the room. The tendrils of smoke curl in the air, the scent mixing with the faint cologne he wears, a heady combination that makes your pulse quicken.

"Come sit." he tells you, not even looking at you, just calling you over with an air of command.

You move to sit next to him, but he tsked softly, shaking his head. With a gentle but firm touch, he guides you to sit on your knees in front of him, right in between his legs. You follow his lead. His eyes roam over you, dark and precise, like he is trying to decide what he is going to do to you. He takes another drag of the joint, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can feel the heat of his attention as it travelles over your body.

As he leans forward, his free hand cups your chin, tilting your head up slightly.

"You look gorgeous down there." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and you instinctively part your lips and welcome it in your mouth.

He exhales another plume of smoke, the scent intoxicating, before setting the joint aside for a moment. His hands move to your shoulders, squeezing gently before sliding down your arms, leaving a trail of warmth and goosebumps in their wake.

"Tell me," he says, his voice soft but commanding, “how far would you want tonight to go?"

Your answer is a breathless whisper, your eyes locked on his. "As far as you want to take me."

His smile widens, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. "Good." he says, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer until you are pressed against him. "I'll make sure your night is unforgettable."

With that, he leans in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that is both possessive and tender.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake. He bites at your flesh, each nip sending waves of arousal coursing through you. His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing in just the right places.

He pulls away for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

Slowly, deliberately, he reaches up and tugs at the tied straps holding your top up. The material loosens and slides down, exposing your bare chest to him. His gaze fills with desire as he takes in the sight of you, his hands moving to cup your breasts.

“Perfect ones you got there,” he smiles.

With a wicked smile, he takes one of your nipples between his fingers and twisted it harshly, making you gasp at the sudden intense sensation. The pain is sharp but quickly dissolves into pleasure, your body arching into his touch.

His hands guide you back down onto your knees before him, his gaze never leaving yours.

"You had such a wicked mouth tonight, show me what else you can do with it," he murmurs, his voice a sort of command. His hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

You reach up to undo his pants, your fingers deftly working the button and zipper. Ross slumps lower onto the sofa, his body relaxing, a cloud of smoke curling around his head as he takes another drag. You pull his pants down, and he helps get them lower by raising his hips, allowing you to slide them down to his ankles. The sight of him sprawled out, so confident and at ease, makes your heart race.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you unbutton the last couple of buttons holding his shirt together and push it to either side, exposing his entire chest. His body is a work of art, lean and muscular, each contour highlighted by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows.

There is a patch of hair in the middle of his chest, a detail that had driven you crazy ever since you noticed it back at the first pub.

Your eyes travel lower, taking in the clear shape of his cock through his boxers. He is hard, the outline of his length straining against the material, the sight of it making your mouth water. You reach out, running your fingers along the bulge, feeling the heat and hardness beneath the fabric.

Ross exhales another plume of smoke, his head leaning back against the sofa, eyes half-closed in anticipation. His chest heaves slightly with each breath, and you can see the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, adding to the raw allure of him.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, now heavy-lidded and filled with lust. "Don't keep me waiting, love."

With trembling hands, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down, freeing his cock. It springs free, hard and throbbing, the sight of it making your breath catch.

You look back up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he gives you a slow, wicked smile.

"Perfect," he says, his voice a soft purr. "Come on, now. Knock yourself out.”

You pull your legs together, seeking some relief from the ache building between them as his words drive you crazy. He notices, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he continued to smoke, letting you get to work.

“I’ll take care of you after, yeah? Just have to be a bit patient.”

Your hands wrap around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your palms as you begin to stroke him.

With a gentle tug, you pull down on his foreskin, revealing the pinkish head, and lean in to lick right at the slit, savouring the taste of the beads of precum leaking from it.

Taking him deeper into your mouth, you work your tongue around the tip, circling it while your hands continue to stroke the rest. You keep a slow pace, building the tension and relishing the low groans of pleasure escaping from him.

After a while, you pull off to spit on his cock, the sight earning a satisfied "Mhmm" from him.

A thought comes back to your mind, so you decide to go ahead and ask. "What were you celebrating back there?"

He takes a moment to reply, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as your hands still stroke his dick. "Last night with my mates before I leave for tour.”

"You’re a rockstar?" you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Nah. Just a simple bass player who thinks you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You continue licking at him, your eyes locked onto his, the connection between you intensifying. He watches you, the hunger in his gaze making your heart race even faster.

"Want some?" he asks, waving the joint towards you.

You don’t say anything, letting him guide you. He grabs your chin, holding your face right where he wants it, and turns the stick to you, placing it between your lips so you can take a drag. You enjoy the taste and the sensation as you inhale, but before you can exhale, he pulls you back onto his cock, shoving it inside your mouth. The smoke escapes through your nostrils and swirls around his shaft, creating a heady, intoxicating mix of sensation.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re amazing.”

His grip tightens in your hair, guiding your movements as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The smoky haze around you adds to the surreal intensity, heightening every touch and taste. Ross’ groans grow louder, his pleasure evident in every sound he makes, encouraging you to keep going, to give him everything you have.

“Christ.”

You feel his hips start to move, thrusting gently into your mouth, his control slipping as he gets lost in the sensation. You can feel his pulse, strong and insistent, matching the racing beat of your own heart.

Each time he pulls back, you can see the pleasure etched on his face, his eyes dark and focused on you.

"That's enough." he murmurs, his voice rough with need. With a firm grip, he picks you up, your legs on either side of his thighs as he sits you down in his lap.

His hands are everywhere, pulling your skirt up over your ass and running his hands all over your exposed skin.

He hooks his fingers around the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. His fingers trail between your lips, teasing you with light touches before shoving them inside roughly. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, the sound of your juices flowing around his fingers echoing in the quiet room.

“Drenched,” he acknowledges, “did having your mouth on me turn you on?”

“Yes.”

Ross removes his fingers completely, lifting you closer to his chest. Your breath hitches as he positions his cock at your entrance, the head pressing insistently against you. He gives your ass a sharp slap, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you, and then another, each one making you tremble with anticipation.

With a single, powerful thrust, he drives himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that makes your head spin. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, his breath hot against your neck.

"Ride,” he orders, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Take what you want, make yourself feel good.”

You begin to move, at first grinding against him, savouring the way he fills you so deeply. The sensation of him inside you, so hard and thick, sends shivers of pleasure through your body. You can feel every vein on his cock rubbing against your inner walls, each movement delicious and intoxicating. His eyes are locked on you, watching you ride him slowly, too slowly for his patience.

His hands move to your hips, gripping you tightly.

"Fuck, you feel so good." he groans, his voice strained with need. He begins to thrust up into you, hard and fast, each stroke sending shockwaves through you.

Your body responds eagerly, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, the friction igniting a fire within you. Your tits bounce against his chest, your nipples brushing against his skin with every rhythmic movement. The room is filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, a mix of raw desire and need.

“You’re givin’ me proper memories here, love.”

He is fucking you so hard, his movements almost punishing in their intensity. You kiss him messily, your mouths colliding in a wet, hungry kiss. In the desperation of it, you accidentally bite down on his tongue, not too hard, but enough to draw blood.

“Fuck, m’so sorry.”

He doesn’t care though because he immediately kisses you again.

The metallic taste of his blood mixed with your saliva, a strange but perfect sensation in the heat of the moment.

He groans into your mouth, the blood and spit mingling and running down both of your faces. His hands tighten on your hips, driving you down onto his cock with even more force, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Your mind is hazy, lost in the overwhelming sensations and the primal connection between you.

"Fuck, Ross." you moan, your voice breathless and needy.

"Go ahead." he growls, his thrusts becoming even more urgent. "I want to feel you come all over my cock, can you do that?"

You nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. His words send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you. Your body convulse around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in the room.

"Fuck." he groans, but his thrusts don’t stop. He only slows the tiniest bit as he gets up with you in his arms, his cock still inside you. He steps out of the trousers pooling at his feet and started walking with you to those huge windows lining the room.

He lets you down there, and you can’t even stay up on your feet, nearly collapsing as your knees go weak and wobbly. He catches you just in time, his strong arms the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shit, easy. Can you turn around and keep standing? Or d’you need me to lay you down on the bed and be all sweet to you?”

“Just take me here, it’s okay.”

He groans, pushing you against the window, your breasts sticking to the cold glass.

You’re high enough that no one could ever see you.

"Admiring the view?" he asks, shoving his dick back inside your cunt and fucking you from behind.

You just nod, overwhelmed by his speed, your walls growing sore from all the friction. The pressure is intense, a blend of pain and pleasure that keeps you on the edge.

He grabs you by the hair, pulling harshly and making you look up at him as he looks down at you.

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, I love this view." you manage to gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips.

"Good, always keep answering me, need to know you’re with me.”

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his movements, sends you spiralling into another wave of pleasure. The cold glass against your chest, the roughness of his grip in your hair, the fullness of his cock inside you. Fuck. All of it melds together and leaves you breathless.

With each thrust, you can feel him hitting deeper, the angle perfect and unforgiving. His breath is hot against your ear as he growled, "Come for me again, love. You've been so good."

And you do, your body shuddering as another orgasm rips through you. Your moans fill the room, mingling with his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're absolutely perfect." he groans. His thrusts grow more erratic, his control slipping. Each powerful movement sends a sweet, sharp pain through you that leaves you gasping. "You like that, don't you?" he growls, his voice a low, dirty whisper. "You like being fucked like this, don't you?"

"Yes." you moan, the word escaping your lips without thought. "Yes, I love it."

"Dirty girl." he hisses, his hand sliding from your hair to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race. “Can I cum inside of you, love?”

“Yeah, fuck, please.”

“Please?, need it that bad, don’t you?”

He grips your hips, releasing inside of you with one final, hard thrust.

When he’s done he pulls out of you, turning you around to kiss you. His hand moves down your back to your ass to give a little squeeze and pull you closer.

You gasp into his mouth when he lifts you up, your legs around his torso.

“You’ve been a dream, holding on for so long. You deserve another reward, no?”

You smile when your back hits the soft fabric beneath you.

“Sweet girl,” he says, “everything about you is bloody perfect.”

“Lets get this off,” he sneaks his hands under your waist to raise you up so he can pull down your skirt.

He continues by placing kisses to the newly exposed skin, down the insides of your thighs.

"Please Ross"

"Don’t worry, love, you don’t have to beg with me.”

He brings his hand in between your legs and starts touching you, running his fingers through your lips, gathering some of the wetness and bringing it to your clit.

"Could stay here the whole night.”

You’re moaning quietly from how needy you feel.

"Don’t hold back, scream if you need to," he gives you a cheeky grin.

He’s scooting down on the bed so his mouth could reach your pussy, attaching his lips to your clit, where he previously played with his fingers, and you gasp as you feel his tongue poking out to lick it. He goes lower to lap at all the wetness that keeps pooling down there.

"You taste so good. fucking delightful.”

He’s the best you’ve ever had. You don’t want to never see him again, but that’s a one night stand, right?”

Your thoughts are interrupted when a loud moan, almost a cry, escapes your lips as you feel one of his fingers enter you, while he keeps teasing your clit with his tongue. You can feel every ridge of his knuckles as he pumps it in and out of your dripping cunt, so wet, just for him.

"More" and he obliges, instantly adding another finger and you already feel full, full of him.

"Am I doin’ alright?” It’s a rhetorical question. He knows what he’s doing and based on your reaction he already knows you feel good.

"Yes.”

You are so close, just needing a little bit more, so you start playing with your nipples, pinching them lightly, but he quickly notices.

“S’not your job, just lay here.” He swats your hand away to roll your nipple between his fingers just like he would do to himself when he is wanking.

He keeps hitting that perfect spot inside you, and his mouth. god. He switches between sucking that little sensitive bud between his lips and licking it and he finds a delicious rhythm and position that makes you bring your legs over his shoulders, wrapping around him and trapping him in there so he wouldn't dare move, your hand flying to his hair, getting all tangled up, pushing him deeper into your heat.

“Ross.”

Everything is just too much, you came apart beneath Ross, saying his name over and over, mumbling praises for how amazing he is and how fucking good he is making you feel.

He gives you one of the best orgarms you'd ever had, not even joking. No one had been able to make you cum like that, that good, except yourself, but that is different.

You come all over his face and fingers until you pull him away, becoming way too much. He pulls his fingers out and before he could do anything else you lean over and grab him by the wrist, taking them in your mouth, cleaning them up, humming in pleasure as you taste yourself and his jaw is on the floor as he watches you.

“Mhm,” he hums, “you’re mental.”

You then grab his jaw and pull him into a kiss, pulling his body back up over you.

“Thank you, Ross.”

“Course. You’re a nice girl and you gave me one of the best shags I’ve ever head.”

He makes you giggle and you even see his dimples again, “can say the same. Can’t even remember when anyone made me feel as good as you did. Probably never.”

“Don’t fuck me about. A cunt as sweet as yours should feel good every day.”

You blush and want to hide in the crook of his neck but he pushes your head into the mattress by his grip on your throat.

“Feeling modest now?” He chuckles, “don’t.”

Before you speak again he’s already rolling off of you throwing an arm around you, “and stay? Don’t piss off, please. S’ nice to have company before I leave.”

You huff in your head. It’s for his own benefit but that alright because in one week you both have already moved on.

“You don’t want me to leave?”

He shakes his head, “nah, come on. You think I would send you off now?”

You shrug, “don’t know, some guys would.”

“They’re all cunts. Stay.”

You lean into him and kiss him, trying to mesmerize the feeling off his lips on you.

“Fine.”

[red-riding-wood]

Hii! 💓 I saw your post about drabbles/one shot requests and I’d like to send in the following angsty/dark prompt for Tommy: ‘I'm here to end what I started.’

Bang Bang

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: a bit of spice but no smut, violence, angst

WC: 978

Took some loose inspiration from Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) by Nancy Sinatra.

I'm sorry this is so, so late, Daisy! I'm finally back from many hiatuses and am getting my act together with writing. Hope you enjoy because I quite like how this one turned out. <3

Your hand trembled around the revolver, bitterly cold in the winter air of Birmingham, next to the canals where snaking tendrils of mist wrapped around the foundations of the stone bridge. But it was not the cold that sent a shiver along your skin, that blurred the edges of your vision with unshed tears. It was the man who approached, your heart beating wilder with each step he took, your finger feeling less assured against the trigger.

“I’m here to end what I started,” you told him down the barrel of the revolver, a quiver betraying the biting determination of your tone. Were you saying it to convince him, or yourself?

A sliver of moonlight caught the bright of his eyes as they met yours, latching their icy talons round your soul. Like a ghost, he was silent yet slow with his stride, the only indication that he was indeed corporeal being the press of his chest to the barrel, in acceptance or challenge you could tell not.

“So am I,” a low, husky voice met your ears, and before his gaze could drop to your parted lips, you caught the eerie warmth of your own longing mirrored in the ice of his eyes.

As he pressed closer to you, your hand lowering the gun but still holding it loosely to his stomach, that warmth came to you in silk ribbons, in soft brushes against your skin that reminded you of long nights in the Garrison, of stolen dances in lavish clubs, of Arrow House’s hearth as Tommy wrapped a blanket round your shivering shoulders. You could still taste the whiskey he’d handed you on his lips, as if it were yesterday, as his nose tickled yours and the fire of his breath consumed you. His hands, worried not about the gun you held to his stomach, but aching to finally acquaint themselves with every part of you, ran up your thighs and squeezed your waist, pulled you closer to him and drew a soft yelp from your tongue.

He breathed heavy around the muzzle buried in his waistcoat, not letting it stop him from feeling your body against his, from demonstrating just how much he needed you with his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and calloused fingers – so rough in contrast to the softness of his mouth – dragging against the line of your jaw.

Tommy’s grip tightened as you pulled back, possessive and needy, yet he thumbed gently at your flushed cheek as he stared back at you. One of your hands had come up to his chest, nails sinking into the light fabric of his shirt and palm resting over the strong beating of his heart. You were scarcely aware now of the gun you held, your world becoming him and only him as a fracture formed in the ice of his eyes and a few messy strands of dark hair fell over his forehead, his cap forsaken and his entire soul and being bared to you in this moment that made your heart clench so cruelly against your ribs, for you ached for nothing more than to devour him, to let the scent of cologne and cigarettes carry you to a kinder memory, a better place.

A tear streaked across your lips as you tugged at his shirt; you were certain he could taste the bitterness and despair on you as you kissed him again, sadder and softer this time, as if to tell him,

I’m sorry.

And you flinched as the sound of the gunshot ripped through the still air, the sound of your fevered breaths muffled by the ringing in your ears, the ice-blue of his eyes shattering now into hundreds of pieces. Your souls, severed, cold washing over your body once more and your breath hitching in your chest. No longer did his warmth creep into your aching bones; no longer did his fingers send shivers along your flesh. Numbness seeped into every pore, and time seemed to cruelly slow, the thuds of your heart coming fewer against your ribs. Your lips, wet with tears and blood.

Tommy’s thumb swept across your dampened cheek one last time, as if to cast away your sadness, to reassure you that it was okay, and the only warmth you felt now was the stickiness of the fabric between you, pooling at your sternum. Your lips parted in a cry, but no sound came out, and your lungs burned. The revolver clattered to the stone ground.

The icy gaze of death never left you as your legs grew weak beneath you, blood freckling his beautiful face as you sputtered around the whelming surge in your throat, and on his lips formed the words,

“In the bleak midwinter…”

Clawing now at the blood that stained your dress a darker red, you turned, wild and blurry-eyed, to make out the shadow of a wide hat below the light of the streetlamp that undulated in your vision, the lumbering stride and broad shoulders that were all too familiar, the cane that clicked like the tick of a clock against the stone.

Solomons, the last threads of your thought provided. Wisps of smoke dispersed into the fog from the barrel of the man’s pistol, but you barely had the chance to regard your former business partner as gravity pulled you to the earth, as if the Devil were dragging you to Hell.

You never should have trusted him. You never should have trusted either of them.

But Tommy made your fall gentle, cradling you in his arms. A tortured breath fanned your cheeks as his forehead was brought to yours, and it swallowed the light of the streetlamps; it swallowed everything, darkness spilling from the corners of your vision until nothing existed in the world but him, as he personally delivered your soul to the gates of the underworld.

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