#this time of year I’m always like but why won’t any of my bosses or coworkers assign me a paper 😭

[whentherewerebicycles]

can’t sleep I’m just lying here thinking about how if someone approached me and was like “if you want, you can do an entire bachelor’s, master’s, and PhD again for free, in any field you like” I would be like this is the happiest day of my life. can I really. what’s the catch. how can you stroll up to me so casually and offer me my heart’s wish

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 

He smiles. 

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 

God, he’s gorgeous. 

You hate him. 

You’ve missed him. 

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can. 

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions. 

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for Christmas because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 

“I know,” he murmurs. 

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

[evansbby]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: STEPCEST, daddy kink, dark!Ari, non-con, dub-con, age gap (reader is in college, Ari is in his forties), extremely fucked up Ari, delusional!Ari, spanking, ROUGH spanking, ass eating, ass fingering, he is literally very obsessed with her ass, swearing, misogyny, spitting, manhandling, dirty talk, condescending dirty talk, Ari also babies her A LOT, 18+, minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You stay out past curfew and your stepdad punishes you.

𝐀/𝐍: Final warning that this is extremely fucked up. Dead dove don't eat and all that. You've been warned. Enjoy.

“Where were you last night?”

Ari’s voice is loud, carrying across his study out into the hallway where you stop with a start. His door is slightly ajar, and you can see him through the crack. Sat behind his desk, his usual half-empty glass of scotch in hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Out?”

“Out where?”

“I don’t need to tell you that.”

You didn’t. It’s not like Ari was your dad, although he very much tried to act like he was. He was your stepfather; your mother had married him last year. And in that time, Ari had made it clear that he was always going to be in charge. And you wouldn’t have cared if he bossed your mother around, but it was you who his attention fell on most of the time.

You were in college, and it was close enough that you were able to stay at home and commute. Well, stay at Ari’s home, since that’s where your mother had moved the two of you. And you should have realised back then – a man as powerful as Ari Levinson would only ever play by his own rules, and make sure you did too.

“You have an eleven ‘o’ clock curfew. I didn’t see you tucked in at eleven ‘o’ clock. In fact, you weren’t home well past midnight.” He takes a sip of his scotch, looking ever the ruggedly handsome man that every single woman you knew went crazy over. Seriously. Your mom, her friends, your friends. It’s like you were the only one who saw through his act. There was just something about him…

This time you do roll your eyes, “Well firstly, I don’t need to be tucked in like I’m some little schoolgirl. And second, I’m allowed to stay out as long as I like. Mom never had a problem with that, she trusts me.”

Ari’s deep blue eyes regard your carefully, and he sets his glass down before using his finger to beckon you closer. “Come here.”

“What? No, I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere without my permission, sweetheart. Now I won’t repeat myself.”

There was an edge to his tone, one you knew all too well. Ari Levinson was a dangerous man, but then again weren’t all businessmen dangerous? It’s not like he’d played nice all his life to become the millionaire he was now. But he never shared his work with you or your mom. No, Ari was very rigid in his rules. Work was for the men, and women were to look after the home and mind their business.

He had other rules too. A curfew for you, no swearing, no wearing revealing clothes – and that was just scraping the surface. You’d complained to your mother countless times: “He’s not my father, he can’t make me do any of this!” But your mother was blindly in love with Ari, and wouldn’t listen to a single negative thing about him. “We live under his roof, sweetheart. He pays for everything and we should be so grateful. The least you could do is follow his rules, he only wants what’s best for you!” It was a shame he didn’t love your mother back. You couldn’t imagine a powerful man like Ari Levinson loving anything.

You swallow and step into his office, clutching your coat tighter around your body. It was best not to waste time arguing with him, and the sooner he said whatever he had to say, the sooner you could leave. You had another party to go to tonight, and no one – not even Ari Levinson – was going to stop you.

“Close the door behind you.” Ari orders, leaning back on his leather chair and undoing the top button of his shirt.

“Why?”

“Close it.”

You do. There’s something about the way Ari speaks, the way his tone is so commanding without him even trying to make it seem that way. It compels you to listen, and so you stand there in his office, in front of his desk while he just looks at you. His eyes leisurely trailing up and down your body, so dark as he sips his scotch again.

“Look, Ari, I’m going out whether you like it or not, and–”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

You almost sneer, “I’m not going to call you Dad.”

“Of course not. You’re too spoilt to address your elders with a bit of respect.” He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he sets his scotch down and runs his hand through his unruly brown hair. It’s all glossy and rich, curling at the ends like he’s some kind of romantic movie hero. It was crazy how good looking he was, how charming he looked for someone who was so strict and stuck in his ways.

“You’re literally not my father.” You say, shifting from one heeled foot to the other. You’d had this argument with him almost daily for the past year.

“Oh yeah? Who else lets you live under their roof? Buys you whatever you want and gives you a monthly allowance on top of that?”

You sniff, “Never asked for any of that.”

A smile touches his rosy lips, but it’s a wolfish one. A predatory one. “And yet you have no problem spending my money, do you? On stupid, mindless things like that sorry excuse for a dress you’ve got on under that coat.”

You bite your lip, holding your coat tighter around your body. It was long, but the dress underneath was short. Sinfully short, skintight, red lace. What else were you supposed to wear to the club? Not that Ari had to know that that’s where you were going tonight – one of his rules was no clubs. But how did he know about your dress?

Ari chuckles, “I know all about your slutty little get up, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you had your bedroom door open earlier while you were changing into it?”

Your jaw drops, “You pervert, you–”

“Enough.” He raises his hand to silence you, and you hate that it works. Your heart’s drumming in your chest and you despise how much of an effect your stepfather has on you. How much he intimidates you, how much he scares you despite how hard you try to prove otherwise. “Come here.”

You swallow harshly, “I am here.”

“No. Come over here. Closer to daddy.”

You blanche. That was the thing about Ari. He didn’t even want you to call him Dad. No, he wanted you to call him daddy – like you were some stupid, helpless little girl.

Sometimes, he’d brush past you around the house, make sure to squeeze your hip or rest his hand on your back despite the fact that the hallways were big enough for about ten people. How he’d grab something for you from the top shelf, making sure to touch you in some way as he did it. And he’d whisper – sometimes even with your mother in the same room – “Daddy’s got it, sweetheart,” or, “let daddy help you, honey,” or “how’s daddy’s best girl today?”

And it horrified you that disgust wasn’t the only thing you felt when he said those things.

“I’m fine right where I am.” You hold your ground, trying not to shake or teeter in your sky-high heels. Your bare legs suddenly feel cold, your palms clammy.

Ari blinks, “come here or I’ll get up and drag you here myself. And we both know you don’t want that.”

You mull it over. Ari was a huge man. And huge was an understatement. You didn’t think men could be so big and imposing until you’d met him. He towered over everyone you knew, and he completely dwarfed you. Hell, even in your heels you’d be half the size of him. And he was also absolutely ripped. Shredded like he went to the gym regularly, and you knew he did because he had a gym at home, and he’d often walk around shirtless after a workout. All sweaty and tanned and glistening, and–

“I’m waiting.” His voice is clear and powerful, carrying across the study, ringing in your ears. You think over your limited options, wondering if you could possibly just make a break for it.

You’d tried running away from him only once before. During the early hours of the morning, when Ari had come to pick you up after a house party gone a bit too wild. You were still drunk, high, happy. And then he’d pulled up in his expensive car, a grim look on his face. You’d giggled and ran, but it only took him a few strides to catch up with you. He’d hoisted you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes, like you weighed no more than a feather. And he’d thrown you in the back of his car and forbade you from ever going out again. Told you that if you did, he’d track you down and ground you for life. That there was no point in running, no point in hiding because he’d always track you down. Because he was your daddy and you were his little girl and he owned you.

That was when you’d realised just how insane Ari Levinson was. Insane with money and power and capable of anything with the world at his feet.

Heart beating madly in your ribcage, you take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him. Around his desk and right up in front of him. He turns his chair slightly, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes of his, his eyes flashing darkly as he takes you in. He grabs your hip and yanks you closer, and you stumble, almost falling on top of him before his strong arm steadies you, and you end up standing between his legs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a strange sensation at the compliment. Almost like a spark within you that you try your best to ignore. His hand is still on your hip, rubbing up and down through the mink of your coat. “Where’s your mommy tonight?”

“Asleep.”

“So you were going to sneak out.”

“It’s hardly sneaking out when you’re an adult in college who doesn’t need permission to go out and see her friends.” You can’t help but quip, although your attention is on his hand as it continues to rub your hip. Why was he doing that?

He acts like he hasn’t heard you, his eyes continuing to drink you in as he strokes your hip, “It’s not good to give your mommy and daddy so much grief, sweetheart. You should stay at home like a good little girl.”

Grief?! As if. You don’t think a man like Ari could ever feel anything as raw and humane as grief. Especially over something as normal as you, a college-aged woman, living her life.

You shrug, trying to act as casual as possible, “I like going out.”

“Mm,” in a flash, he yanks your coat off your body, the slinky fur sliding down till it falls by your feet. The action is so sudden, and yet Ari remains nonchalant, “You like dressing up like a slut too.”

“This is what all the girls are wearing.”

“But you’re my girl.” He toys with the lacy hem of your dress, a frown touching his handsome face at how short it is. Hell, the dress hardly covers your butt, and you’d class it more as lingerie than a going out dress, but that was none of his business. “I can’t have you going out like this, baby. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this.”

“What if they already have?”

The slap comes out of nowhere, sharp, unforgiving and loud, and your ass blooms with pain. You cry out, unable to believe he’s just spanked you.

“If you were stupid enough to give yourself to one of those idiot college boys you hang out with, trust me, I would know.” Ari says quietly. And it’s not a sneer, nor is there any contempt in his tone. Just cold, hard, nonchalance – which chills you down to the bone.

“Y-You’re crazy,” oh, but you hate the way your voice shakes as you say it!

“I’m just looking out for you, baby girl. That’s what daddies are for. Hell, even your mommy wants me to be your daddy.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know–”

“She wants me to be responsible for you, to discipline you, to take care of you how I see fit. How could you go against what your mommy wants?” His hand meanders lower, stroking your hip bone before gliding over your bare thigh, and then up again but this time under your dress. He cups your ass, and you can’t believe he’s got the balls to do it so casually. And it’s bare, because your lacy little G-string wasn’t covering anything, and you both knew that.

“Ari, you need to stop,” you swallow thickly, “y-you’re going too far this time, you–”

He yanks you into his lap, his motions so precise that you end up perched on his knee before you even know what’s happening. Your dress rides up, exposing your upper thighs and that’s exactly where his eyes zero in. Those intense, navy blue eyes that flash as his tongue swipes over his lips. And that’s when you feel it. Hard. Underneath you.

“This is where you belong,” he says softly. But not in a sweet way. Each word drips with menace. Quiet menace and a hanging threat. “On your daddy’s lap like a good little girl. God, baby girl, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you in my lap like this.” He bounces you up and down, watching as your breasts bounce in your tight red dress. “Every day I see you skipping around wearing next to nothing, and that fucking body…” He pauses, inhaling deeply as his arm secures around you even tighter, “…that peachy little ass on full display when you’d go out in your slutty little outfits no matter how much I forbade you from wearing them.”

“M-Mom’s upstairs,” you warn him, pressing your hands against his chest in a bid to get away from him except he’s too strong as he holds you rigidly in place. You can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth right now, but you don’t want to stick around to find out more, despite the fact that your thighs seem to be pressing together off their own accord. “Mom’s upstairs and she could come down any second, and–”

“She wants us to be together,” Ari smiles, and again it’s that wicked, menacing smile of his that’s more of a smirk than a smile. “She wants me to be your daddy, to take care of you. She knows how out of hand you’re getting; she knows you need a man like me to put you back in your place.”

“What?!”

“Mm, baby girl. And I let you act like a whore long enough. I was lenient, you see. I was enamoured by you, and so I let you do what you wanted. But now it’s time to put my foot down before you get too out of hand.”

“You’re insane!” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Firstly, lenient?! In what universe was Ari ever lenient with you? He’d always been strict and up your ass about his dumb rules and traditional values. No going out, no drinking, no smoking, no hanging out with boys, no wearing revealing clothes. If that was him being lenient, then you didn’t want to know what he was capable of now.

“There you go again, talking back to me. It’s clear your mommy didn’t teach you any manners.” Ari fingers the lacy strap of your dress, pushing it down your shoulder and inhaling the perfumed bare skin he’s exposed. You’d lathered yourself in fragranced lotion, one that left glitter all over your body, and it reflects in his eyes as they continue raking over you, looking everywhere as if it’s his right to.

And he’d never gone this far before! Sure, he’d brush against you and hold you and whisper things to you, but he’d always teetered along that line, never crossed it. Now he seemed close to it, hell-bent on doing it. There’s a fire in his eyes that you don’t recognise, a lust that burns so bright it makes you look away lest you catch it and start feeling it too.

“And you know exactly what you’re doing to your daddy,” he continues, brushing your hair off your shoulder to expose the nape of your neck, and his huge hand grabs your throat lightly, almost casually. “You left your door open tonight so I could watch you slip on this slutty lingerie you call a dress. And that fucking peachy baby ass of yours, in those tiny, slutty panties…” Again, he inhales sharply, and you feel him shift subtly underneath you, his boner digging into you from below.

You try to ignore the lump in your throat and the beginnings of a fire in the depths of your stomach. “Nobody asked you to look, Ari. You’re a fucking creep and I’m gonna tell Mom you were spying on me.”

He smiles again, like your threat means nothing to him. And why would it? You’re half his age and at his mercy, the clothes on your body bought with his money, as is the makeup on your face. The furniture in your room, all your college textbooks… Hell, he paid your college fees. You were bound to him. He knew he owned you.

“You just earned yourself five extra smacks, baby girl.”

“Five extra what?”

“And you wanted me to look, sweetheart. You always want me to look,” Ari licks his lips, that predatory glint in his eye increasing tenfold. And he casually tweaks your nipple which is poking stiffly out from under the thin lace of your dress. You convulse, and he grins wolfishly, “That’s why you act like an attention-seeking whore, wear slutty clothes and prance around like you own the place. You’re crying out to be put back in your place, you need it.”

“All I need is for you to back off.” You stick your chin up, trying to be brave. But the older man only looks amused, and he strokes your hard nipple with just his thumb, the action sending sparks down to your core that you try your best to ignore.

“God, you’re fucking adorable,” he almost groans it, and his other hand tightens on your hip, grinding you down on his erection while you sit there frozen, “I can’t wait to fuck you in mine and mommy’s bed…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His salacious words act like a bucket of icy cold water, shocking you out of your trance. God, he was truly insane! You try to jump off of him, but his grip tightens around your stomach, pinning you down on him as you struggle.

“She won’t mind,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear and sending electric currents down your body, “she wants us to bond, sweetheart. And I can’t think of a better daddy and baby girl bonding activity–”

“YOU’RE SICK!”

It’s when you really start struggling, when you bat and punch at his chest that he finally frowns. Not that it hurts him, but he doesn’t like the disrespect. That’s when he pushes down on your back, easily manoeuvring your body till he’s got you slung over his knee, your lacy dress riding up and your ass poking up into his face.

“You’re such a brat,” Ari’s lets his hand rest squarely on your ass, stroking it from on top of the red lace. You feel hot all over, heart beating out of your chest as you try to wrap your head around what exactly is happening right now. “But that’s okay, isn’t it sweetheart? One night with your daddy will set you straight. Then you’ll be the good little girl your mommy and I want you to be.”

“Let me go! Don’t you dare touch me, don’t you– OW!”

Ari’s huge hand cracks down on your ass like lightning, and your cry of pain echoes around his study, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back into your ringing ears. Pain blooms across your backside, tears welling in your eyes – he’d hit you so hard.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were craving a good spanking,” Ari runs his hand over your ass, stroking the sizzling skin that’s still covered by the flimsy lace of your dress, “that you needed it, and you wanted me to give it to you.” Easily, he pushes the lace up, bunching your dress around your waist. He fingers your G-string, snapping it against your skin and making you cry out again, “You’re such a little slut…”

He rips your panties off, and you hear him inhale sharply, and you know he’s smelling them. And then his hand cracks down on your ass again, and again you cry out in pain because it’s your bare ass and it hurts, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“I watched you stumble into the house last night, well past your curfew,” he speaks so casually, despite his hand raining unforgiving spanks on your ass, “looking like a slutty, drunk little mess, your dress up and that cute bubble butt of yours poking out like you were trying to tease me. God, I wanted to take you over my knee then and there. But I knew you had to be sober for this. It’s the only way you’d learn.”

“Please, stop, it hurts, it–”

“And to think you were going to go out again, break my rules again,” he sneers, giving you a particularly hard smack that has you reeling, the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Stupid little girl, don’t you get it? I give you everything, every material fucking thing in the world you could ask for. And all I ask in return is for you to be a good little girl, a respectful little girl who stays at home and listens to her daddy. Is that so fucking hard?”

All you do is sob, and he yanks your hair, “I said, is that so fucking hard?”

“No!” You cry, wiggling around on his lap in a bid to get away from the unforgiving wrath of his palm, your mind quickly slipping into delirium, to that place where you’ll say anything just to get him to stop. “No, it’s not hard, okay?! PLEASE STOP!”

“No more going out,” smack after smack rains down on your ass, and the skin feels like it’s breaking, like it’s on fire, and he just grows harder, more excited underneath you. “No, baby girl. From now on, you’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll stay at home with me, let me take care of you.”

“Okay, fine! Just stop, just–”

“And daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he croons softly, and yet he sounds so fucking evil, “Daddy’s gonna feed you, change you, bathe you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So much more than your goddamned parties.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat, white hot pain radiating off your poor ass as he manhandles you, spanking you like you’re some goddamned child being chastised. And you were a grown woman! A grown woman with a sick in the head stepfather who was hellbent on inflicting his torturous, fucked up discipline.

“Say it. Say you want daddy to bathe you. Say you’d like that, because you’re too much of a dumb baby to do it yourself,” he orders, sick pleasure in his tone at his own words. And he gives you the hardest slap yet, like a threat of what’s to come if you didn’t answer how he wanted you to.

“Fine, okay?!” Your voice is shrill with fear, “I-I want you to…” your face screws up, hotness prickling your cheeks, “I want you to bathe me, take care of me...”

SMACK.

“Address me properly.”

“I WANT YOU TO BATHE ME, DADDY!” Shame erupts inside you, but so does relief when the spank you’re expecting never comes, and his hand rests on the curve of your ass instead.

“Of course you do, my helpless little girl.” He croons, switching from menacing to faux-sweet with the drop of a hat. “I always knew you needed me. You made it so obvious.”

“C-Can you please just stop now?” You hang your head, the energy depleting from your body, and all you can focus on is the pain in your ass. That, and the way his boner is poking dangerously close to your core. And you feel this strange urge to hump downwards, but you push it away as soon as it flits your mind.

“You have such a pretty ass, baby,” he ignores you, stroking your ass with that large, warm hand of his. “Sure, daddy just did a number on it, but that’s okay. A cute bubble butt like yours was made to be ruined, wasn’t it? Say it. Say it exactly how I just said it.”

You sniffle, ass on fire and thoughts disorientated enough that you obey without a single protest, “My… My cute bubble butt was made to be ruined.”

You expect him to let you go then, to laugh at you for being reduced to a sniffling mess. To taunt you because you and him both know your mother wouldn’t believe you if you told her what had just happened. He was perfect in her eyes, a knight in shining armour and that was all she ever wanted to see him as. Not the devil incarnate who’d spanked your ass raw for coming home later than the curfew he’d set for you.

Instead, you hear him inhale deeply, squeezing and fondling your ass cheeks, groping them to his heart’s desire, jiggling each cheek like it’s a toy made for his pleasure. And you almost lose yourself to the sensation, because why do you feel that need again? That need to grind down on his knee?

But then his hand moves lower, and his hand cups your cunt before you even realise that he’s crossed that line completely. That line a stepfather should never cross.

“Ari, n-no, don’t…” but why does your voice not even convince your own self?

“I’ll do what I please,” he says calmly, as if he’s conversing with you normally over a pot of coffee in the morning, as if he doesn’t have his big, warm hand cupping your bare pussy. “I own you, it’s only right that I show you what pleasure is. I’m sure you’ve never felt it before, not with those boys you hang around. And you took your punishment well, sweetheart. Daddy’s so proud of you, and I’m not all bad, you know.”

Before you can say another word, his strong arms lift you up and manhandle you till you’re bent over his oak desk, your ass poking up and at his mercy yet again as he stands up to his full height behind you. You yelp when he gives your ass another hard slap, as if he can’t help it.

“You’ve made a mess all over my pants, baby girl,” he pulls your hair, making you look back. And that’s when you see the dark wet spot on his pants. Oh no, no, no. That couldn’t have been you, could it?

And yet, yet you can feel that tell-tale wetness now trailing down your thighs. Were you… leaking? Is that how turned on you were right now? Despite the disgust you feel? And the contempt and hatred too?

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Ari puts on that faux-sweet voice again, and yet he still sounds menacing, predatory as he grips your ass cheeks so hard they hurt. “I know baby girls like you can’t help but have an accident every now and then. It’s a good thing daddy’s here to clean you up.”

Before you can even attempt to decipher what’s happening next, he grabs your hips and hoists your ass up even higher. Then he spreads your ass cheeks apart and your eyes almost bug out of your head when you feel his tongue, stiff and wet, like a stripe up your asshole.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You can’t help but moan. No one had ever, ever even touched you up there. Let alone lick you there, and oh god! Oh god, it felt so insane. Your cunt throbs at the feel of his wet tongue up there. Your stepfather was eating your ass.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your butt cheeks as he spreads them even further apart. He spits down on your puckered hole, making you tense up in anticipation. “I’ve been dreaming of eating your sexy little ass since the moment I saw you.”

“This is wrong…” and yet your words sound so faint, so far away. What feels close is his tongue, big and flat as he laps at your hole like a starved man. And you don’t know what possesses you but you know you have to start rocking your hips back into his face, and that’s when you feel him smirk against you.

“I knew you’d come around, baby girl. I knew you’d get off on me eating you back here. I bet none of your little boyfriends ever did this for you, huh?”

“N-No, oh-oh gosh, I-I–”

 He cups your cunt again, this time gathering your wetness and bringing it up to your asshole. And fuck, his finger makes you twitch as he rubs your wetness into your puckered hole before lapping it up with his tongue. And the whole time, obscene noises fill up his study, and your mother sleeps soundly upstairs while her husband violates your asshole and both of you are moaning now.

“Fucking sexy baby ass,” Ari mutters, practically tongue-fucking your hole like he hasn’t had a meal in days. And his stiff, wet tongue forces its way into your tight hole and you wail because it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Now you’re grinding back into his face in earnest, and your poor, neglected cunt is dripping juices down on his desk, and–

Ari slaps your ass hard, the sound ringing across the room, and his beard scrapes against your hole, and it feels so sinfully good that you want to cry. How did it get to this? You hate him. You despise him. And yet…

It’s when he forces his thick pointer finger into your poor asshole that you scream in earnest, and all it earns you is another slap to your butt. And this itself makes your pussy clench, like your body is growing accustomed to his rough ways. Like your body is accepting his rough ways, liking his rough ways.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper voluntarily, because your body is betraying you and now so is your voice, “daddy please. Need to, n-need to…”

“Say it.” Ari’s voice drips with power and authority, “Say what you need.”

“Need to – nngh! – need to cum!”

He smirks, “No one’s stopping you, baby girl. No one’s stopping you from getting off on your stepdaddy eating your tight, sexy ass.”

He pushes you down on his desk, till your stomach is flat against the hard oak. With your ass pinned down against the hard surface, he spreads your cheeks again – as far as they’d go. With renewed vigour, he starts licking up your ass again. And you twitch against his harsh tongue, which probes and licks you like you’re nothing more than his meal. And you gasp and whine and moan like a whore, thrusting back against him, needing to cum, just needing to cum and nothing else.

You squirt hard when he bites down on your ass cheek, bites down on it like a man possessed, like a man hell-bent on marking you as his property. And you’re sure he’s left a mark, you’re sure he’s drawn blood, and he fingers your tight asshole the whole time, milking your orgasm as your untouched cunt convulses and waves of shocking pleasure radiate through your body.

“That’s right, baby girl,” Ari licks at the spot where he’s bit you, sucking at the poor, broken skin to make the bruise even more prominent. “My special little girl, finally giving yourself to daddy. I’m so proud of you, baby. Fuck, so proud of my little girl.”

 You’re half lost in your delirium but you snap out of it when you feel something wet and hot splash on your ass. Spurts of it, coating your sore and bruised ass. His cum. You hadn’t even realised he was jacking off. Your stepdad, jacking off and dropping his load all over your sizzling ass after he’d just spanked you and ate you out back there.

Fuck.

“Next time, I’m finishing inside you,” Ari has the audacity to chuckle, despite the air feeling heavy around you as you come down from your high and collapse on his desk, all energy sapped out of your body.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. You feel a bunch of sensations, but you feel another spark of thrill when his finger swipes over your ass. And then he brings it to your lips, his finger coated with his cum that he’s gathered, and presses it into your mouth.

You don’t have the energy to fight him, and so you suck on his finger, like a good little girl you lap up his cum, swallow it while he smiles at you approvingly, and pats your head like you’re his little pet. Ruined and collapsed on his desk, your panties in his pocket and your poor dress hiked high around your waist. Completely at his mercy.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he says, picking you up and gathering you in his arms. You’re limp, too weak to argue. To fucked out to really register what’s just happened. “See, doesn’t it feel good to be taken care of by your daddy? All that partying isn’t good for you. Only daddy knows what’s good for you. But don’t worry. You’ll learn. Soon.”

A/N: THE END! OKAY WHAT DO WE THINK??? AHHHH this Ari is sooo fucked up omfg. But I'm kinda nervous posting this bc I haven't posted a full length fic in a while??? and idk... this just came to me. BUT WHAT DO WE THINK? Please, please do let me know! Feedback/comments/reblogs would mean the world to me! I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT YALL THINK??? FAV PART??? ANYTHINGSS anyways byeee love u <3

[aureatchi]

⛇₊˚ .࿐₊˚✧ BUBBLES IN MY CHAMPAGNE, LET IT BE SOME JAZZ PLAYIN’ . . .OSAMU DAZAI

⟢ SYNOPSIS. the port-mafia was infamous for throwing glamorous holiday parties every year. not only were you attending this time, but you were also finally going to be introduced as the port-mafia boss’ pretty girlfriend! or…that was the plan.

of course, things never go according to plan.

a/n. merry christmas !! adding onto the xmas dazai fics jdjsjwn <3 this one’s vv chaotic.

info. fem!reader. pm boss!dazai. pm exec!reader. fluff, angst, pinch of sugg. there’s DRAMA. mentions of drinking. lil jealousy. dazai is a 💩. the pm is filthy rich lmao. pazenia is a made up country. wc. 3.4k

“Oh my.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

The brunette chuckled as he waltzed towards you. You saw him appear behind you through the sizeable full-body mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as you finished applying your lipstick.

“It looks even better on you.” Dazai’s fingers wandered playfully, tracing the curves the red dress he gifted you hugged so well. The tailoring was so impressive—the dress could fit noone else but you. And indeed, it was made exclusively for you, for the largest and most luxe corporate event of the year.

It was the Port Mafia Christmas party. Everyone was required to attend, and plus-ones were allowed too, stirring even more chaos into the affair. You were a Port Mafia executive—of course you were going, but the night was going to be unique for another reason.

Tonight, the Port Mafia boss would confirm all the rumors…all the gossip circulating the past few months. He was finally making your relationship with him official in front of everyone.

As if everyone still doesn’t know.

Yet you were nervous. Keeping things an enigma actually worked in your favor—besides suspicious stares with muffled voices and jealous women, you didn’t have to worry about much. Dazai would take care of any problem. After all, you trusted him completely.

But now, everyone would know. You and Dazai had gone through all the downsides—you could become a potential target for any enemies, your name would rise even higher on the wanted list, and you could be stalked by frustrated, jealous men…honestly, you two were almost too hot for your own wellbeing.

Just almost, because “I’ll take care of it all. I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you, darling.”

He whispered those words into your ear, sensing your anxiousness as you continued to look at your reflections.

“Please don’t worry.”

He did not speak in his usual teasing, playfully amorous voice. The brunette’s face matched the seriousness of the topic you had both gone over multiple times, making sure that the other wanted to still go through with it. You both didn’t want to force the decision of your relationship upon the other—though it was Dazai who had suggested the idea, the choice rested entirely on you. He ensured you knew you could change your mind anytime you wanted.

And Dazai wished you could see that he truly, would go to the ends of universes to make sure you were safe.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I won’t,” you replied. “I’m only worried about you. I need to be by your side at all times to fight any bad guys that come for you.”

And girls. If you were being honest, you always felt a bit sick thinking about other women wanting him. Maybe this is why your nerves hadn’t backed you out yet…you wanted everyone to know their leader was indeed taken.

Dazai laughed more heartily than he intended to at the comment. He, the now Port Mafia superior commander, known even before as the Demon Prodigy, was being talked to in concern that he needed a sidekick to help him.

Though, he was also the same man whose mind was full of fervor for one girl. You giggled, seeing the apparent blush on Dazai’s face when you fixed his black tie. He was matching with you, of course—his red attire was the ruby scarf.

“Perfect,” you mused when you were done. “Wow, you’re handsome.“

“And you’re ethereal,” Dazai responded, putting on your coat. “Ready to go shock everyone?”

“As if half of the mafia doesn’t already suspect anything between us, Osamu,” you smiled.

“Hmm…you’re right.

“Of course they’d think I’d sought after the prettiest woman in the world.” A coy grin snuck back onto his lips.

…

It was evident your lover had good taste, not only in outfits. He chose to rent out one of the big hotels as the venue for the party—very fitting for the filthy-rich organization.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the limo was the massive Christmas tree in the center of the hall.

“Woah.” There were at least fifty gifts under it already.

You noticed Dazai’s brows suddenly furrow as he, too, inspected the presents.

“Osamu?”

“Bella, remind me who this person is again.”

He picked up a present, showing you a familiar name.

“Oh!” He was the assistant under your wing. You two had worked together for years—you had built up a lot of trust and a friendship to have him in charge of some of your responsibilities.

“I see. Don’t mind that; I forget some of my men sometimes.”

You nodded, though you felt a bit unsure about his response. Regardless, you cast the thought aside.

What you didn’t notice was the way Dazai showed you the package. The present was from your assistant, but the name it was for was entirely covered by the brunette’s hand.

“Well, are you ready to go in?” Dazai asked, holding out a hand towards you.

“Yeah, I’m-”

“Dazai!”

It was Kouyou, another executive. She saw you and greeted you, too.

“My, you’re looking lovely today,” she chirped. “So you and the boss are dating.”

You smiled. “Yes.”

“Well, better tell everyone soon,” she told the both of you. “Dazai, a daughter of a very infamous organization in Europe, is at this party as a plus-one. She wants to discuss a business proposal…‘as soon as possible,’ she said. It’s confidential, too; she only wants you. Do you have a few moments to spare?”

Dazai immediately turned toward you, to which you nodded at him. “It seems important, especially if she’s from Europe.”

“You’re sure?” Dazai asked. You were supposed to walk into the dining hall together to introduce yourselves as the power couple of the evening. “What about…”

“Yeah, the mafia is the priority. I’ll find you soon.” You were an executive, after all. The mafia existed to protect Yokohama City, so work should be an urgency.

“Alright,” he replied. He took another look at you—a singular, amber eye softened once he met your gaze. The other was hidden behind bandages, and so were the emotions of his heart. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling at the moment.

“Let’s go, big sis.” He turned towards Kouyou, who led him out of the room.

Now alone, not counting the guards, you glanced at the presents again, picking up the one Dazai had previously questioned you about.

Oh! Your assistant gave you a present. You found it sweet; your assistant hadn’t gifted you anything until this year. Now Dazai’s reaction made sense—perhaps he had thought you had a secret admirer or something. You giggled at his assumed jealousy.

…

You walked inside the dining hall by yourself, a large crowd already entertaining themselves inside. Everyone who saw you stopped to greet you—their executive, and you wished them a merry Christmas back with a friendly smile.

“Huh? So she’s not dating him?”

You turned your head the slightest, pretending to grab a drink while you instead eavesdropped on two employees you hardly knew. Thank goodness they weren’t the ones going out on missions to spy—they were terrible at not being obvious.

“I’m not sure. But that underground aristocrat from Europe that everyone knows has a crush on the boss showed up to meet him. That huge Christmas tree by the staircases is actually a gift from her.”

“Really?! So…maybe she was the boss’ plus-one? Now that’s wild. Everyone really had me believing he was seeing the executive.”

“Yo!” Your attention was suddenly pulled from their conversation.

“You good? You’re overflowing your cup.” You had poured too much drink, so liquid was running all over the floor.

“Shoot, I think she heard us!” you faintly heard behind you as the employees moved away.

“Oh, yeah. I’m so sorry,” you responded to your assistant who had found you. He handed you a few napkins to clean your hands and dropped a few more to mop the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t need to help, and thank you,” you said as you cleaned up, too, feeling bad.

“All good! Merry Christmas, by the way. How’s your evening going so far?”

“Good, thank you,” you responded, half-truthful. You needed to find somewhere to process what you had just heard. Even if they were only rumors…they bothered you.

“I saw you got me a gift in the lobby,” you added, recalling earlier. “I was surprised! You haven’t done that before, so I found it so sweet.”

“Oh yeah!” he replied, and you didn’t miss the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Who knows…I may have had a change of heart this year.”

You chuckled innocently. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you! I’m excited to see what you got.”

“Of course. I do hope you like it! Also, your dress. It looks good on you.” His voice sped up at his last comment.

“Oh, uh, thanks-”

That was really awkward. You gave him mercy, though…you hadn’t even told him you were in a relationship. So, you tried to say to him that it was your boyfriend, Dazai, who had the dress made for you, but you were cut off.

Dazai had finally entered the room, but he was accompanied by that noblewoman everyone was speaking about.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Her hair was in a perfect blowout, and she wore an emerald green dress that fit her like a glove.

And with each step Dazai and this new woman took into the hall to be regarded by everyone, your heart sank a bit more into your stomach.

What??

“You don’t look so well. Are you okay?” Your assistant paid no mind to the mafia boss’ new commotion. He was wholly concerned for you.

“Yeah. This drink tastes weird, but I can’t put my finger on what.” Yet, you took another sip. What was going on? You had never doubted Dazai’s love or loyalty toward you. Had you been so blind by your own to miss this?

Dazai didn’t even bother trying to search for you. And the way the lady’s arm touchingly clung around his infuriated you.

“He was seeing some foreign princess all along?”

“The boss always has to cause a scene with something new.”

“They’re kind of hot together, though.”

Now you really wanted to puke. You stared until the noblewoman’s eyes finally caught yours and dwelt on your figure briefly before turning toward Dazai and asking him something.

Dazai’s lips read, “Okay!” before a guard approached you.

“The boss is summoning all the executives to him,” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, strolling over to him.

Fuck. You wanted to cry. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

You felt a bit better when the other executives—Kouyou and Chuuya showed up before you.

“Miss, these are the Port Mafia’s three executives.” He introduced you individually, not meeting your eye when he went to you.

You wanted to leave. There was no point in being here anymore. What you thought would be a cheery Christmas Eve turned out to be the worst night ever. It couldn’t have gotten any worse…

“And this is the Lady of Pazenia,” Dazai said, introducing the woman. “Our most important foreign guest tonight.”

“So, uh? I’m kinda confused,” Chuuya commented. “Mackerel boss, ya dating her or something?” He glanced at Dazai, the girl on him, and then you.

She responded for him. “We’re getting acquainted tonight, that’s all,” she replied smugly. Dazai chuckled. “Yes…we’ve communicated online a few times, but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face.”

What the fuck.

“Oh, uh, okay.” For once, Chuuya didn’t pester, didn’t tease anymore. Because he was just as startled as you. He, too, suspected that you were dating the boss.

“I’m sorry, will you please excuse me? It was nice meeting you, m’lady; I hope you enjoy your Christmas with the boss.” You didn’t even wait for a reply. You stormed off in the direction of your assistant. You were going to ask him to drive you home, and then you’d pack your things and then stay at a friend’s house for a few days to figure out what to do next.

Everything was crashing down like an avalanche.

But before you could get to him, the bastard’s subordinate stopped you.

“Akutagawa? Hi, Merry Christmas. Sorry, I’m in a rush-”

“Merry Christmas, miss,” he responded, moving in front of you again when you tried to shift over. “Aren’t you going to rescue the boss? Has your emotion clouded your rationality so much you can’t see things clearly anymore?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turned back towards the scene, and yeah—what you saw was your final straw. Akutagawa misjudged. Not even a glimmer of hope remained in you.

Somehow, they had ended up at the corner of the room. And lo and behold, Dazai and the Lady of Pazenia had ended up under the mistletoe, and many of the upper ranks surrounded them. There was even a Paparazzi.

You tried to push past Akutagawa, but he stopped you.

“Watch.”

Why? Did Dazai place him there to make sure you suffered through it all? This was so cruel. Tears welled up in your eyes as the room went quiet to watch.

“Oh! Silly me…how did I manage to get here?”

“I’m not sure…” the woman replied flirtatiously. “But you can’t break a tradition, boss of the Port Mafia.”

“I guess I can’t,” Dazai replied, leaning in. “But, can we make a deal, Miss?

“You can kiss me, but tell me where the real Lady of Pazenia is. The exact coordinates where you’re keeping her hostage. If there’s anyone kept in place to secure or torture her.”

And the crowd suddenly gasped. She did, too, and a hand flew to her mouth.

“Shit!”

About ten guards ran towards her, restraining her before she could do anything. Dazai calmly backed away, continuing to explain.

“The business proposal was crafty and would’ve led to our doom quite quickly. You’re trying to overthrow your own government. So, you devised a cover-up to get the mafia to help you, with a deal to help us on our end, but just like your original goal, you want our city’s government to fall into anarchy, too.

“An underground noblewoman. You are exactly that—quite literally.” Dazai sighed. “No, I’m not in a relationship with her, I…”

Dazai finally met your eye, and his heart immediately sunk seeing you cry.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered, and he ran towards you, tightly embracing you.

You wanted to punch him, throw him away—something, but you were surrounded by half the corporate. There was already enough scandal tonight, you didn’t need to add any more.

“Hah, it’s okay,” you responded audibly, hastily wiping tears. “You’re a great actor, Osamu, really got me believing you were cheating on me for a second.” Words spurred out of your mouth—you hoped you wouldn’t regret it later.

Dazai’s grip on you tightened to silently show you gratitude before he turned to your audience. “Now that the problem is out of the way—Merry Christmas to you all.” A waiter handed him a glass of champagne, who had also gone around with multiple others to hand out drinks to everyone.

“And a special Merry Christmas to my girlfriend, right here.” He gave you a kind smile, and you tried your best to reciprocate your own. There were “awe”’s and “that’s so cute”’s about.

Dazai held his glass up towards everyone else’s before toasting with yours.

…

You stayed away from Dazai for the next hour. He respected your space for that long—in the meantime, you acted fine. You conversed with others, you laughed. Your assistant apologized for his comment on you earlier—“I was completely oblivious to you and the boss! I’m so sorry; I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” You laughed it off, telling him it was okay.

“Hey, bella.”

Dazai had finally found you alone. You looked at him, facing the inevitable.

“I’m getting tired. Wanna sneak away with me?”

You hesitated. “Where would we go?”

“The drinks suck here, besides that champagne. I know Chuuya was definitely not in charge of this part.”

You had to agree with that one. You couldn’t even finish the glass you overfilled earlier.

…

Bar Lupin was surprisingly empty that night. The bar was Dazai’s safe place, his getaway. You were constantly reminded of his genuine, complete trust in you whenever he took you here.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai apologized as you waited for your drinks. “What I did was brutal.”

“It really fucking hurt,” you said, finally able to release your true feelings now that nobody else was around.

“I had to keep up the act to expose her. Her vulnerability was that…she had a crush on me? So, the most rapid way to gain her trust was to make her believe she had a chance. She didn’t know I was seeing someone.”

“You take acting too seriously. You’re the Port Mafia boss, not some goddamn movie actor. You couldn’t even…make eye contact with me? Give me a reassuring look or something?”

“You’re right. That’s no excuse.” He took a breath. He had actually messed something up. He could predict and do everything else flawlessly until it came to the people he loved.

He always screwed it up.

“I set aside our relationship for a mission. I’m really sorry, love. And I understand if it takes awhile for you to think through it all. The only thing I ask is for forgiveness.”

“I dunno…it kind of seems like you enjoyed it…”

That was a lie. You were just saying things out of spite now. You had rethought the previous events after recalling what Akutagawa had harshly told you without context—rescue the boss? Yeah, Dazai clearly didn’t enjoy it. He never touched the woman back in any way, and his word choice was very cautious. Except one line.

“Us communicating online? Yeah, I knew she’d just go along with it. I had to say that so Chuuya would stop pushing and blow my cover. Besides, you literally have my email login, darling. You see everything.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Osamu, you know?” you muttered as the bartender finally handed you two your drinks. You took a thirsty sip out of yours. You couldn’t even stay mad anymore.

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me?” he chuckled, knowing the mood was lightening.

“No. You’re just too…attractive. Like, why are you so hot? All the girls want you…I was actually quite relieved when you asked me if we should make things official so everyone could finally know that we belong to each other…”

Hah, if only you knew.

“You don’t assume I think the same? You almost pissed me off by hanging around your little assistant, too, belladonna. He clearly fancies you.”

You gulped, remembering his earlier compliment. “Don’t do anything to him—he didn’t know. He does now.”

“He better,” he simply replied. “And everyone else. There’s no excuse now—you’re the Port Mafia boss’ girlfriend.”

You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. The protectiveness was attractive. You pulled on Dazai’s tie, reeling the rest of him towards you.

“And you’re my boyfriend,” you smiled.

To everyone else, Dazai was known as evil, suicidal, murderer, demon, saint. But to you, he was simply Osamu. Your boyfriend. And perhaps that’s what he loved most of all. Across universes, you would not fail him—not even Odasaku succeeded so highly.

“Are you going to kiss me, bella?” Dazai asked, the signature smile back on his face.

“No,” you teased, pushing him back. “I’m still mad at you. Nothing went according to plan.”

“Nothing did,” the brunette replied. “But isn’t that what’s so exciting about life? Life is unexpected, yet some good things can come out of it, such as…”

He revealed a piece of mistletoe in his hand, holding it above you two.

“Even if you’re mad, you can’t break a tradition,” Dazai spoke, swinging the plant back and forth.

You sighed before you both leaned in to kiss each other. Dazai pulled you onto his lap, and you kissed him even more feverishly. Your hands ran through his hair until the bandage around his head finally came undone, unveiling the rest of his pretty face.

You focused on his dilated, honey-colored eyes. Finally, they revealed what he was feeling. Comfort in having you in his arms again. In your warmth.

Everything felt too intense after that. He had started making out with you again, his hands were wandering you curiously, the dim lighting, the jazz instrumental, how tipsy you felt from the drinks…

“Let’s just go home.”

…

You were swaddled in Dazai’s arms under the bed's covers at home. So sleepy. Dazai promised that the next day would treat the both of you better—a peaceful Christmas gift.

“Let’s stop doing such large parties,” you said, looking up at the ceiling. “It just calls for trouble, to be honest.”

“Yeah…we’ll have a small houseparty next time. Everyone else can do what they want.”

You were gently kissed on the forehead before the brunette softly whispered to you. “Merry Christmas, belladonna. I love you.”

“I love you too, Osamu.”

dazai told me he’d kiss u if u rb this. rbs are cherished; they are ur christmas gift to me! <3

tags: @kissesmellow21 @osaemu @ruanais + @lovedazai @chuuyrr @anqelically (i think u guys would like this <3)

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated divider by cafekitsune. heart lights divider by benkeibear. manga header made by me - DO NOT save/use.

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 1

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Foot kissing. Divider by @benkeibear!

Your phone won’t stop buzzing. Even with the sound turned off, it’s making a racket in your bag, disturbing the important meeting you’re in. With a sigh, you slip it out to look at the Lock Screen. Your younger sister has sent you several messages. Wondering what kind of trouble she’s gotten herself into this time, you tap the latest message to open all of them. 

“Sis, I need your help! It’s an emergency!!!!”

“Yosaku is in trouble with his dad. He needs money right now or the old man’s gonna kill him!!”

“We’re at the Doll House. Yosaku says he’ll win big at the next race and buy out my contract.”

“Guess I’m a doll now! Why won’t you answer me?! This is important!!!”

“The owner went to find a trainer for me. God, I hope I don’t get the BDSM guy!”

“Sis, I’m scared!!! Yosaku left and I don’t think he’s coming back!”

You clench the phone in your hand so hard, you almost break it. 

“Fucking Yosaku!” you shout, then notice the dozen pairs of eyes that all immediately shift to you. You’re so enraged that you forgot you’re in a meeting. You apologize and excuse yourself, quickly leaving the office building where you work and heading toward the Doll House.

Your sister has been dating the son of a small time Yakuza boss for a little over six months now, and the two bit wannabe gangster has already ruined her life. 

Before meeting Yosaku, your sister was always so sweet and never got into trouble. Despite only being four years older than her, you practically raised her. She’s the only family you have, and as such, you’re fiercely protective of her. 

So when she introduced you to Yosaku, six years her senior, good looking in a “bad boy” sort of way, and with a terrible personality, you knew he was bad news. The fact that they started dating almost immediately after she turned eighteen was a big red flag. It’s like he was waiting for her, like a vulture. 

She started getting into trouble within two weeks of meeting him. She got caught shoplifting items he instructed her to take (and he of course fled the scene when she was spotted). He got mad and ditched her in a dangerous part of town one night. He talked her into gambling away all her money. And a whole list of other things. Each time, you had to go and rescue her.  And each time, you begged her to dump him before he got her into real, serious trouble. 

Now she’s at the Doll House? Unbelievable! How could he convince her to give up ten years of her life for him?! You can only hope you make it there in time to stop the sale. 

When you barge in the front door, past a front desk with a startled receptionist, and into a large circular room, you find your sister. She’s being led away by a pale man with a strange hairstyle, and she looks like a deer in the headlights. 

“Stop!” you scream, rushing forward and ripping your sister’s arm out of the man’s hand. “Don’t touch my sister, you pervert!”

You don’t know a whole lot about the Doll system or the Doll House, but everyone knows the basics. The men here train women to be sex toys, usually with some bizarre fetish. A friend once told you a guy here makes his dolls crawl on the ground like a dog while wearing a butt plug. Unimaginable! 

The man looks at you, seeming confused. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not anyone suspicious. I’m just her trainer.”

You place yourself in front of your sister, blocking his view of her. “You think I’m gonna let you train her to do depraved… sex stuff? I won’t let you hurt her!”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he says, looking a little hurt himself that you would suggest such a thing. “My job is to prepare her to be a doll. I’m helping her.”

He seems so honest, but you can’t let yourself be fooled. “I don’t care what your job is. You can’t have my sister! Look at her, she’s just eighteen! She’s practically a baby! She’s still a virgin! You can’t turn her into-“

“Actually, sis, I’m not a virgin,” you hear your sister say behind you, making you wince. You assumed so, but it sucks to have it confirmed. Fucking Yosaku. 

You look at her over your shoulder. “That’s not important right now.” Then you turn back to the man. “Please, don’t take her. She’s the only family I have. She has her whole life ahead of her.”

The trainer’s face softens slightly, as if he feels bad for you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but she already signed the contract. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But there has to be some way out of this! Her lowlife boyfriend coerced her!”

“What’s going on in here?” a voice asks. 

All of you look over to see a silver haired woman standing just inside the room. She’s holding a silk fan in one hand, the breathless receptionist standing beside her. 

“Who are you?” you ask her. 

She flips a long braid over her shoulder. “I’m the owner of this establishment. And if you’re here to stop a sale, you’re too late. Unless you want to pay some rather punishing fees for breaking the contract.”

You narrow your eyes. “Just how much are these fees?”

The owner snaps her fingers, and the receptionist scurries to grab a pen and paper. The owner writes something on it and the receptionist presents it to you. She wasn’t kidding when she said they were punishing! You’d never be able to pay this back! Even with your pretty good job. Your sister’s credit would be ruined forever. And you’d have to work yourself to the bone and you’d probably still lose everything. 

Your mind races. Think! Think! There has to be a way out of this! An idea pops into your mind. A terrible one, but it’s the only one you have at the moment. 

“What if I take her place?” you ask. 

Your sister steps out from behind you to look you in the face. “Sis, no, this is my-“

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, using the sort of tone you took while caring for her as a child. The “angry mother” tone, she called it. She falls silent. 

The owner looks you up and down. “I don’t know… We’ve never done something like that before.”

You get down on your knees, looking up at the owner with a pleading expression. “Please! My sister is young and naive. She can’t handle life as a doll. But I can! As the older sister, it’s my responsibility to protect her!”

Beside the owner, the trainer’s eyes widen. Then, suddenly, he moves over and gets down to his knees right next to you, bowing his head low. 

“I’m asking as well,” he says to the owner, shocking you. “Out of respect for her wanting to protect her sister, could you let them trade places? The older sister would be more suited to my training anyway.”

The owner looks slightly flustered to be met with such old fashioned, formal pleas. But she sighs and says, “Alright, I’ll go get the paperwork fixed up.”

As she walks away, the trainer stands up, then offers you his hand. Still somewhat in shock, you take it and let him help you up. 

“Thanks,” you tell him. “But why did you help me?”

He gives you a subtle smile. “I understand wanting to protect a younger sibling. I have a little brother I would do anything for.”

Wow, he’s actually pretty cute… for a sex crazed pervert. It just now occurs to you that he’s going to be your trainer now. This cute guy is going to be doing all sorts of depraved things to you! 

Your sister hugs you suddenly, her face wet with tears. “You didn’t have to do that! This was my problem!”

You pull away from her and stroke her hair. “Yes, I did have to do this. Just promise me one thing: that you’ll stay away from Yosaku. He’s dangerous! The next time he gets you into trouble, I won’t be there to help. Don’t make what I’m doing be for nothing.”

Your sister nods. “I promise! I’m all done with him!”

After reading over and signing all the paperwork, you and your sister say your goodbyes. Then you turn to your trainer and say. “Well, I’m all yours.”

He reaches out and gently takes your hand, then leads you down a hallway. He actually seems… sweet? You can’t imagine him doing perverted things to you. But he is a trainer here. Sooner or later, this man is going to have sex with you. You’re not some blushing virgin, but the thought still makes you a little embarrassed. 

Once inside his room, he shuts the door behind the two of you. His room looks surprisingly neat, clean, and comfortable. No crazy props or weird toys hanging on the walls. Thank goodness. 

“Feel free to sit down,” he says, gesturing toward a pair of chairs on either side of a small table. 

You walk over and take a seat, watching him a bit warily. You still don’t know what kind of fetish he specializes in. 

“I’ll tell you about my training,” he says, as if he can read your mind. You sit up straight in the chair to listen as he goes on. “I train women to be Doms. Dominant. I will call you Mistress. My name is Choso but you can call me whatever you like. I will do anything you tell me to. For the next six weeks, I belong to you. Oh, before you ask, I can’t get you out of the contract. That’s up to the owner, not me.”

Wait. What? He’s training you to be a Dom? You’ve heard the term before, but it conjures up an image of a woman in a black leather corset, cracking a whip. You’re supposed to do that stuff with him? 

“So, you’ll do anything I ask?”

He nods. “As long as it doesn’t violate any of the house rules, and is within my power.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. But you’re not naive. You know this is supposed to lead to things of a sexual nature. This is the Doll House after all. But at least you’ll probably get to do things at your own pace. You feel yourself relaxing slightly. 

“Can you get me a cup of coffee?” you ask, curious to see how he responds. 

“Of course, Mistress. How would you like it?”

“Hot. Heavy on the cream, no sugar.”

He gives you a small bow of his head. “Right away, Mistress.”

You watch him leave the room, then exhale deeply. Why does any doll trained by him ever do any of the sex stuff? Why not just make him rub your feet and bring you snacks for six weeks? You suppose that would defeat the purpose of being trained. What was it he called it? Preparing you to be a doll? Whoever your owner ends up being, he’s definitely going to expect some sex stuff. 

But do you have to initiate it? Command Choso to sleep with you? You can’t imagine doing that. 

He walks back in with a steaming cup and reaches it to you as if he’s a butler. You glance up at him, and you think he’d look really good in a butler uniform. 

You noticed it before, but he’s really cute. He’s like a quiet goth guy without the piercings. His hair is styled into two short ponytails, one on either side of his head. It’s not a style you’ve seen before, but it looks good on him. His clothes are a bit baggy, making you curious about what’s under them. 

The coffee is delicious, and Choso watches you drink it silently. After you sit the cup down, he asks, “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

You think for a moment. “You’ll do anything? Even if it’s something embarrassing or demeaning?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

You frown. “I don’t know. It seems wrong to force you to do things.”

A gentle smile appears on his face. “If you’re concerned about consent, please don’t worry. I work here voluntarily because I like doing stuff like this. I’m happy to do anything you want. No matter what it is.”

There’s an eagerness in his voice that makes your heart beat fast. You take a deep breath and say, “Kiss my foot!”

You really just want to test whether he’ll actually do anything you say or not, and this seems like a relatively tame command. Actually it’s not sexual at all. 

Or so you think, until Choso gracefully drops to his knees in front of you and, oh so gently, removes your high heeled shoe from your right foot. Then his hands move to your thigh, sliding just under your skirt. You start to yell at him, but then you realize he’s pulling your stocking down, slowly sliding it down your leg and off your foot. 

His eyes lock onto yours as he carefully lifts your foot up in his hand, holding it up close to his face. He licks his lips, then presses them softly to the top of your foot as his hand caresses your ankle. 

Oh wow. Okay, you kind of get how this all turns sexual. Choso on his knees in front of you, so eager to please, is doing things to you. 

He stands back up, the tiniest hint of a grin on his pale face. He knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t be a very good trainer if he didn’t. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Mistress?”

Your heart is racing. You feel your face heating up. Fuck, did he just seduce you with a single kiss to your foot? You cough awkwardly and look away from his pretty face. 

“I’m not sure what else to make you do,” you say, then quickly add, “What would you do if I told you to strip?”

He instantly begins pulling his loose fitting shirt over his head. 

“Wait! I wasn’t serious! I was just messing around!” you yell, but his shirt is already off, dangling from his hand. Your eyes drink in his well defined torso, surprised by how toned he is. A cute face and a hot body? Plus he’s sweet and gentle? Is this guy the total package or what? 

You shake your head. You can’t let yourself fall for him. He’s your trainer. He’s done this same stuff, and much more, with lots of other women. And besides, in six weeks you’ll belong to someone else. You just hope whoever that is has half of Choso’s charm. 

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I thought you wanted me to undress,” he says, pulling his shirt back on. Why does he sound a little disappointed? 

Now you really want to see what he’s packing beneath those baggy pants, but you can’t bring yourself to command him to show you. Not so soon after meeting him anyway. 

“It’s my fault,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He smiles at you. It’s a very warm expression. “Please don’t worry about it, Mistress. I’m here to please you.”

*************************

Choso watches his new doll as she stands up and looks around the room. This will be her room for the next six weeks, so it’s good for her to familiarize herself with it. 

“Can I go get some of my things from home?” she asks. 

“Yes. You can leave the house so long as you come back by nightfall. That’s one of the house rules. If you go out at night, I have to go with you.”

She looks at her watch. “I guess I’ll just go tomorrow,” she says. “So what do we do for dinner?”

“There’s a dining hall where we all usually eat our meals,” he tells her, then goes on to explain what times meals are served and tells her about the small shared kitchen. He goes over some more house rules and also warns her that the other trainers all have their own styles, so she shouldn’t be surprised to see naked dolls or dolls in strange outfits.

She seems to be taking it all in fairly well. 

For dinner, she opts to stay in his room while he fetches plates, saying she isn’t quite ready to meet everyone else. She also tells him to eat at the small table in his room with her. Some dolls, perhaps angry about being dolls in the first place, order him to sit on the floor and eat. It doesn’t bother Choso, but he does think his new doll seems nice so far. 

“So you have a little brother?” she asks over dinner. 

He looks up from his plate, somewhat surprised. Some dolls ask a few basic questions at first, just to get to know him a little, but this one managed to get straight to his favorite topic. He smiles and says, “Yes. His name is Yuji.”

Her face looks kind, pretty, as she asks, “How old is he?”

“Nine,” he answers. “He’s a very energetic child, but he’s very sweet.”

She’s smiling, perhaps thinking of her sister. “He sounds adorable. Do you get to spend much time with him?”

Choso lowers his eyes to his food. “Not as much as I like. We only share one parent, and both of his have died. He lives with his grandfather now. I visit him as much as I can, and he visits me here occasionally. Oh, don’t worry, he doesn’t understand what I do here.”

They talk for a while longer, Choso eventually getting his phone and showing her pictures of Yuji. And he almost forgets, for a few moments, that she’s a doll and he’s her trainer. For those few moments, they’re just two older siblings smiling and talking. 

When night falls, Choso goes to take a shower. When he steps out, dressed in cozy sweats with his wet hair grazing his shoulders, his doll looks at him strangely. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks her, drying his hair with a towel. 

She blinks then averts her eyes. “No, nothing’s wrong,” she says, looking a little embarrassed before adding, “You look nice with your hair down.”

His doll decides to sleep in her clothes tonight, refusing his offer to wear something of his. And when it’s time to go to bed, he asks, “Where would you like me to sleep, Mistress?”

She wears a puzzled expression. “Uh, the bed?”

“Most dolls tell me not to sleep in the bed with them on the first night. I suppose they’re nervous, me being a stranger to them.”

She shrugs. “It’s your bed. It wouldn’t be right to force you out of it. Just don’t touch me and it’ll be fine.”

He stares at her. “You trust me already?”

She smiles as she climbs into his bed, staying on one side. “I think anyone who loves his little brother as much as you love Yuji can’t be a bad person.”

Choso feels his heart skip a beat, but he keeps his face neutral as he gets into bed, keeping a respectful distance from his doll. 

**********************

Two days later, you find yourself sitting in a chair in Choso’s room. He’s standing nearby, waiting for you to tell him to do something. These past couple of days, you’ve had him give you foot rubs, massage your shoulders, and brush your hair. All things pointedly not sexual. But in every case, Choso has made innocent actions seem incredibly sensual. 

The way his hands touch you, the way his eyes look at you with desire, they make you want to order him to fuck you right now. But you can’t do that. You’ve been trying to think of a way to make the orders you give him more sexy, but it’s difficult for you to just tell a man you barely know to start doing sexy things to you. 

You thought he was supposed to teach you how to be a Dom, but when you said that, he replied with, “It’s much better to just learn by experiencing things. So please tell me what you want me to do.”

Which was no help at all. You’re starting to think Choso isn’t a very good teacher. 

If he would just tell you what he wants, what he’d like for you to order him to do, this would be far less awkward! 

Wait. That might work!

“Choso,” you say, and he seems to perk up a bit at the sound of his name. “If you could pick one thing for me to tell you to do, what would it be?”

He smiles mildly. “I’d love to do anything you tell me to do, Mistress.”

“No. Give me a real, honest answer. This is an order from your Mistress. What would you most want to be ordered to do right now?”

He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes seem to get darker, a very slight pink flush to his cheeks. “What I’d most like to be ordered to do,” he says, keeping eye contact with you, “is to pleasure you with my mouth. To get on my knees in front of you while you spread your legs and stand over me, to taste you, to use my tongue to make you cum, over and over, until your legs give out.”

Oh shit. Are you seriously already wet just from hearing him talk about eating you out? There’s a hunger in his eyes, and you feel heat creeping across your face, your breaths quickening. Just imagining his pretty face buried between your thighs is making you horny as hell. 

“Okay then,” you say, standing up and trying to keep your voice steady, trying to sound confident and in charge even though you feel like you’re about to melt into a puddle of goo, “do it. Pleasure me… with your mouth.”

The way his cute, pale face lights up! He drops to his knees on the spot, and slowly crawls over to you. When he reaches you, he puts his hands on your thighs and carefully slides your skirt down, looking you in the eyes as he does it. 

“Mistress, may I please remove your panties?” he asks. 

You feel like you can barely breathe as you nod and say, “Yes, you may.”

His gentle hands rub upwards, until they reach the top of your lace panties, and then he eases them down your legs, helping you to step out of them once they reach the floor. This leaves you standing in his room, naked from the waist down, while he kneels in front of you. 

“Mistress, can you spread your legs?”

You feel your face burning as you move your feet further apart, giving him an eye full of your dripping pussy. He looks at it, then at your face, then licks his lips as if he’s about to dig into a tasty meal. 

And boy does he dig in! He runs his tongue up your slit, collecting any juices he can, then uses his fingers to open your folds. He takes a moment to look at your most private place, then says, “You’re beautiful, Mistress,” before slowly licking your pussy. His tongue circles your clit, then his lips wrap around it, and you can almost hear him slurping at your wetness. 

You look down at his face, only the top half visible, and his eyes shift up to yours. They’re half lidded, looking at you through his long eyelashes. 

As he makes out with your pussy, licking and kissing it so sweetly, taking his time, your legs begin to tremble. The pleasure is simply too much. You’ve been eaten out before, but never like this, never as if your clit is the most delicious thing on earth. 

“Ahh… Choso… I can’t…”

He pauses and glances up. “Are you alright, Mistress?”

“Y-yes, just… don’t stop, even if I tell you to. Not until I collapse,” you say, feeling slightly delirious. Did you really just say that?

“Of course, Mistress,” he says, then returns to devouring you. 

Your hands move to his head, and you find yourself pulling the ponytails free and letting his hair loose. Then you’re gripping it, hopefully not hard enough to hurt. You hear him utter a quiet moan, and the vibration of his voice against your clit as his lips suckle it gently sends you over the edge. 

You cry out, your hands tightening in his hair, your legs shaking and nearly giving way right then and there. His hands move around to your thighs and ass, holding you steady while his tongue laps up any fluids that leak out. You’re quivering, your clit extra sensitive and swollen after your orgasm, and that’s when his wet tongue glides over it again, pushing the hood even further back. 

“W-wait! Oh God… oh fuck!”

Your body jerks, your legs turning into spaghetti as another orgasm hits you within minutes of the first. Choso’s grip on your body is firm, keeping you from crumbling. His lips and tongue are still working at your clit, moving at a faster pace now, making you shudder and moan. 

“Choso… I can’t stand it… feels too good… I can’t…. I can’t…”

His mouth is relentless, pushing you right back to the edge. You know you must be pulling his hair too hard, but you have to grip something or you’ll fall apart. Then, you feel his teeth lightly scrape over your sensitive, overstimulated bud, and you inhale sharply, nearly choking on the air as you cum for the third time. 

It feels like your body is dissolving as all strength leaves you. Choso catches you in his arms and eases you down to the carpeted floor, cradling you. 

“Are you alright, Mistress?” he asks, his lips glistening with your juices. 

You’re still twitching, clutching his arms as you ride out the aftershocks of the three most intense orgasms of your life. You can’t speak, so you just nod to answer him. 

He holds you until you’re able to stand up with his help, then he helps you clean up before tucking you into bed. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, and you nod as he goes into the bathroom. You didn’t mention it, but when he was holding you on the floor, your upper half in his lap, you felt a rather impressive erection through his loose pants. You thought about doing something about it, but your mind was a little too hazy at that point. Oh well, you’re certain you’ll get plenty of chances to pleasure him as well. 

You never imagined being a doll before all this, and you’re still angry that things turned out this way, but at least you have Choso as your trainer. You don’t know how things will turn out, who will end up owning you, but at least for now, the situation isn’t too bad. So you fall asleep to the sound of the water running in the shower, knowing Choso will be sleeping beside you again tonight.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen @xkittiecatx @ryumurin @emrys3456 @mysecretesc8pe @typicalloser3 @gabriiiiiiii @fvsm4x @tyunhyukamyloves @rottmntrulesall

[abbyromanoff]

Hello, Abby

I would like to request for a story about R and G!pWanda have financial problems, then they decide to be p*rn creators because they think it's the best way to earn money so fast. One day they set up the challage for their fans: who donate the most will be able to meet them and have dinner, which G!pNat happens to be the lucky one. Things are getting intense and Nat finally get to f*ck R while Wanda watching, dirty talking, and jerking herself off. Or they both f*ck R in both holes.

Thank you! I love all of your works❤️❤️❤️

The Lucky Winner

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader, WandaNat x reader

Word count: 3,148

Warnings: smut, threesome, public sex, punishment, jerking off, masturbation, cunnilingus, R and Wanda are porn stars, Wanda and Nat both have dicks, degrading, pet names, praising, jealousy, mentions of bisexual!R, slightly manipulative!Wanda, financial struggles, breeding, no protection, thinks that’s it!

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“Look, it’s all we can do right now! We can barely afford to eat, Y/N, would you rather fucking starve?” Wanda yelled, now standing from the table you sat at. The loud sounds of the pipes creaking and neighbors next door who were, once again, partying like college students.

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Then what? Why can’t we just do this, for us?” She spoke, a little softer this time.

“I want this money, Wanda, I do. I want to be able to go on dates or go out with friends or be able to have more than a meal a day, I do. But there are so many downsides too. I mean- what if one of our friends see it? Or better yet, our bosses! And how am I supposed to deal with the fact that I’m not the only one seeing your sexy body.” She stifled a laugh as you came to a close, a small pout forming on your lips. She grabbed both of your hands in hers, kissing the backs of them and kneeling in front of where you sat.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry.” She wiped the tears on your cheeks, you never liked arguing with her. “I know it won’t be easy, but just like you said, imagine all the dates we could go on. We’d get to live, not just survive. It will be weird at first, especially when we’re showing our bodies off to a bunch of horny dudes to jerk off to, but you just need to think of the outcome, love. I want to spoil you, but I can’t do that if we don’t do this.” She had always been so convincing and deceiving, some would call it manipulation, but you called it love. She loved you enough to worry about you and to want to get you both out of this mess. It was all for the money, you’d have to tell yourself, but you knew it would all be okay if you just had Wanda by your side through it all.

And that ended up being true. It had been almost a year since you two had started, and while she was telling the truth when saying it would be weird at first, you both eased into it over time. It had made you beyond the amount you could ever imagine from your old job, that you both decided to quit. You wanted more free time together, less stress. And with this job, you didn’t need to worry about your bank accounts any longer. You two had enough to get by and treat yourself a little bit at the end of each week.

In celebration of the near one-year mark of your shared account, you two had decided on what to do for your lovely fans. You thought of making a longer video, but realized that would’ve gotten boring for the audience. Then you thought about a live stream where your viewers could comment in the moment, telling you both what to do. Only to then realize some would be busy at work or in a different timezone, they wouldn’t be able to join.

Then it came to you, a competition. If you had multiple people bidding on one thing, it would bring in more money and would make it all the more thrilling and exciting for your fans. You brought the idea up to Wanda, hoping she’d agree, but she wasn’t always the best at doing so.

“Are you kidding me? You really think I’m gonna let you go on a date with some pervy old man who just wants to fuck you?”

“Wanda, we’d both be there. And it wouldn’t just be me getting fucked, it would be like a threesome, you’d be there too.” She looked at you dumbfounded, like you just told her you sold her house and kidnapped her dog.

“You really think some gross man would want to fuck me? I have a dick, Y/N, you should know that better than anyone else.” Your cheeks tinted the tiniest bit at her remark. But it was true, before you she was a virgin, as were you. And she hasn’t been with another person ever since she asked you out that one night, she’d be an idiot to do so.

“You never know, maybe it won’t be a man.” She sighed, massaging her temples as if she was handling toddlers.

“Okay, you’re really cute, Y/N, you are, but you don’t need to be a dumbass. 97% of our fans are males, and you think we’d somehow get that 3% of luck? Not to mention that it won’t be all of our fans so that percentage lowers. And not to mention they’re probably all broke, the highest bid will be a man, darling.”

“Ah, you said ‘will’! So, what do you say? We can get it over with and we’ll set some boundaries of what they can and can’t do, just to make sure we’re both more comfortable with the thought.” You gave her your best puppy-dog eyes in hopes she’d say yes, and while she did an amazing job at disagreeing with you, she was horrible at denying you.

“Fine. But, most of that money is going towards that new car I wanted, deal?” You nodded your head quickly, scaring her with your willingness to do such a thing. Creating the account was her idea at first, but you mostly ran the show now with your eagerness. It worried her sometimes, but it was so cute getting to fuck you in front of a camera with hundreds of thousands watching, knowing they’ll never get to touch. But now someone will, and she didn’t like that. But just like she had said at the beginning, it was all for the money. Oh, how she was starting to regret that statement.

“You ready, babe?” You were both standing outside of the restaurant, preparing yourself for a long night. You wore a red dress with a small slit at the end, your shoulders being on display with the loose spaghetti straps adorning them. Wanda wore black dress pants with a dark blue button-up, the top being unbuttoned just enough to barely get a glimpse of her bra.

“Of course, I am, darling.” She smiled, hoping it would convince you enough. It did, and you gracefully opened the glass doors, letting Wanda walk in a moment before you and then following.

“This guy better at least be cute if he’s fucking you. Wait- no, if he’s cute, I’ll kill him.” You chuckled at her possessiveness, rubbing her arm gently while you stood in line to ease her nerves.

“You know the only dick I want is yours, baby.” She grinned to herself, trying to hide her emotions as a worker came up to her, guiding her to where she would be sat.

You both sat there patiently as you waited for your third party to arrive, looking through the wine menu. The best part was that you didn’t need to look at the costs once, already having the whole thing covered by your generous tippers.

“Is this guy really standing us up?”

“Hey, if so, it sucks to be him.” The two of you were interrupted by a woman, who you at first thought must’ve been your waitress.

“Y/N and Wanda?”

“Uh, yes?” You both looked more than confused on how she knew your name, until it clicked in your brain on why you were even here in the first place.

“Perfect. I was your winner.” She sat down across from the two of you, who both had mouths parted slightly. She chuckled at your reaction before grabbing the menu, speaking in a calm yet unbelievably attractive tone. Wanda thought the same.

“I know, I bet you two were expecting a man.” You looked to Wanda to see her nodding, her eyes landing on the woman’s lipstick-covered lips.

“Well, I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

“No, not at all!” You spoke, a little too loud and causing an older lady from the other table to glance at you. You shyly looked down, rubbing the back of your neck and focusing your attention once again on the paper in front of you, even though you already knew what you were going to get.

“Awh, don’t get all shy on us now, baby,” Nat remarked, not seeming to care the way Wanda tensed up at her words. Her high heel grazed against your leg under the table, and the thoughts running through your mind were less than holy.

“So, Wanda, since this one is clearly a bit nervous right now, how did you two meet?” The conversation between them both went on for a few minutes until your waiter arrived, writing down everything you three asked of him, it was clear that he was new.

“Y/N? Why don’t you speak when you’re spoken to, alright?” Wanda said to you, muttering the words in your ear just loud enough for Nat to hear. She smirked, noticing the way goosebumps adorned your arms the more she spoke. You must not have heard what the two had said to you before, your thoughts being even louder than them.

“I’m sorry about them, they get a little shy sometimes.” You rested your hands in your lap, playing with your fingertips as the two spoke of you as if you weren’t even there.

“Oh, don’t worry, I think they’re just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.” She stared you down, biting her lip as she pictured how shy you’d be when she was in between your legs.

“You see, Y/N, I and your girlfriend aren’t so different after all.” That got both of your attention, watching with curiosity as she leaned back, and took a sip of her wine before speaking.

“In your…videos, you seem to just be a little cock-whore for Wanda. You’d do anything to get your mouth on her, you’re like an addict.” She started, humming to herself at the memories of the videos she had pleasured herself to many times, just wishing it was her fucking you instead. You were grateful for the loud tables near you, that way no one could hear the filth pouring out of her mouth.

“I wonder how addicted I can get you to mine in just one night.” Your eyebrows rose just enough for her to notice, a small laugh pooling from her mouth at you and Wanda’s shared reaction. She grabbed her purse from the table, standing up and giving you both her hand for you to follow. Wanda placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table and the three of you walked out. You guided her to the car that Wanda had been driving, letting her push you against the side as her lips connected with yours. Wanda watched, licking her lips and groaning when seeing her tongue slip into your mouth. You moaned, gripping the older woman’s arms as she held them by your head, refusing to let you go.

“Oh, Wanda, don’t be such a perv. If you’re going to watch at least help me a bit over here.” She kissed down your neck and to your exposed chest, smiling as it rose and fell rapidly. Wanda did as told, her hands running across your body like she’d never seen it before, but you all knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“That’s it? I’ve seen your videos, I know what you can do.” She looked around and Nat picked up on her worries.

“Really? You’re scared of people seeing you? Maybe you shouldn’t be posting your partner getting fucked by your cock every day then.” She gulped nervously, letting her fears slip away as she focused on you and your pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, I’ve been wanting to touch you since the day I saw you. Once I saw that offer, I knew I had to win. Then, I flew my private jet all the way over here, just so I could fuck you.” She pulled the small straps to your dress down your body, slowly letting the dress fall down your body as you were left bare in the warm night air. She dropped to her knees, grasping your thighs in her hands and pulling your hips forward.

“Ride my face, sweetheart.” You looked at Wanda for approval, only to see her palming herself through her pants. You looked back down at Nat, her hazy eyes staring into your own as you started a small, slow movement.

“I know you can do better than that, Y/N.” She mumbled against you, sticking her tongue out and letting you set your pace. You let out a deep breath, examining the parking lot that was completely empty besides for a few cars and the three of you. Your hips moved on their own as moans left you, your hands traveling to your breasts to tease them.

“Oh- yes! Fuck me, Natty, ruin me!” Wanda could feel a small pang of jealousy in her heart, but she couldn’t deny the act was so pleasurable.

“You like this, Wands?” You asked the woman, cupping her crotch and feeling the hardness through her slacks. “You like watching me getting fucked by someone else?” Your breath was ragged, and Wanda couldn’t stop herself from thrusting into your palm. She watched your hips rut against Nat’s face and whimpered, kissing you with full force to regain some sort of dominance. Nat moaned against you, and the vibrations are what tipped you over the edge. You shook in her hold, your hand clutching Wanda’s shoulder as you tried to get a hold of something.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me, love,” Natasha muttered against your skin, slowly standing up with your juices coating her tongue. She watched you depart from Wanda, a line of spit following after. Her fingers went to your chin, bringing you forward as you could taste yourself on her. Once she let you go, she did the same to your girlfriend, making out with her sloppily as she moaned at your taste.

“You’re such a slut, Wands, letting me fuck your girlfriend like that, don’t you have any dignity?” She stared into her eyes as she grasped your waist, pulling you close to her as you felt her bulge press against you.

“How pathetic do you have to be to get off to a stranger fucking your sweet little thing.” Wanda looked down in shame, but her hard-on proved otherwise. Nat laughed when noticing it, resting her hand on the bulge gently. For a moment, Wanda thought she would go easy on her, until Nat pulled her hands back to slap her covered cock. She mewled, thrusting into the pleasurable pain that Nat gave her.

“Look at this. Look at your pathetic girlfriend, Y/N, can’t believe you settled down for something like that.” You wanted to speak, you really did, but it was nearly impossible to do so. Nat unbuckled her pants, gripping your hand in her own and guiding it to the waistline of her boxers. You shuddered as you felt her, she had to have at least a few inches on Wanda. In a moment of confidence, you grasped her cock in your hands softly, letting it free from its confinements. You stroked her length, watching as her mouth twitched open and her eyes shut. You turned to Wanda, doing the same and relishing in the way they both chased after your hand. You ran your thumb over their tip ever so slightly whenever you got the chance, watching as they mumbled incoherently and panted against you.

“Mm, look who’s putty in my hands now.” You stated, licking your lips as pre-cum drooled out of both of their lengths. You wanted to taste them, but you wanted them inside of you at the same time.

“You act so tough, Natty, but in reality, you’re just a slut desperate for anyone’s touch.” You fired back, teasing her for all the degrading words she used earlier on. She whimpered, cupping your dripping wet cunt, teasing her fingers through your folds and teasing your clit.

“You get yourself off every day to two people fucking, just wishing someone would touch you the way I do. So instead, you waste thousands of dollars just to get your hands on someone, talk about pathetic.” Your lips quirked up, thinking you had her completely under your control. Oh, how wrong that was. She gripped your wrist harshly, slamming your front against the side of the car, your body being on display for the both of them. Natasha pressed her head against yours, her mouth next to your ear as she whispered,

“I guess being a nasty slut really is all you can fucking do.” Wanda stood next to her, her tip teasing your entrance before she slipped in with ease. You sighed contently when the head of her cock entered you, only to throw your head back when the rest of her joined. She shivered at your warmth, creating a slow pace of dragging herself in and out of you.

“You’re still mine, baby. You’re still my fucking bitch.” Wanda whispered against you, her head in the nape of your neck as Nat watched with her cock in her hand.

“Oh, God-”

“Yeah, I’m your God, baby.” Her teeth ran across your neck before pressing down, a whimper escaping your lips as you felt her tongue soothing the pain.

“Good girl, Wands, you’re fucking our girl so well.” She clenched her teeth at the word ‘our’, her jealousy overruling the coil in her stomach that had been building up.

“You gonna cum, Wanda? Hm? You gonna get our slut pregnant?” She nodded, unable to speak as she chased her high. You had already been on birth control ever since high school, so you didn’t need to worry about pregnancy, but it had always been a deep desire of Wanda’s. The fascination grew on you, and soon enough, you were begging her to cum inside of you every night.

“Oh- fuck! I-I’m-” She was cut off by her orgasm, her juices painting your walls white as your bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming.

You didn’t get to experience your high as, once Wanda had released, she was already starting to pull out.

“Wait-”

“Ah, ah, bad girls don’t get to cum, Y/N.” You were suddenly turned around, your body weak as your breath was too. You noticed a small gathering near the end of the street, they wouldn’t be able to see you from here but if they got any closer you would’ve been caught. The two of them seemed to notice this too and opened the door to the back seat for you.

“Now, put on your dress and get in the car. Me and Wanda want to fuck you properly this time.”

[writingsbytee]

IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU

WARNINGS: 18+; Minors do not interact!!; SMUT; porn with very little plot; Unprotected Sex, dirty talk, spanking; size kink?; switch

SUMMARY: You and Aaron finally confessed how you feel about each other, now it’s time to get it in!

PAIRING:  Aaron x Lauren “Lo” (reader)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The part 2 you guys have been asking for I hope it’s everything y’all wanted! As always constructive criticism is appreciated but be nice please because I’m sensitive. 

WORD COUNT: 4,176

*Please don’t plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs. Happy Reading!!* 

I feel like a fucking idiot. I’m lying on Aaron’s bed trying to figure out if this position makes me look sexy or like I’m trying too hard. I adjust my boobs for the thirtieth time hoping they look perky enough. Fuck it, I’m hot as fuck. Curves and all, so what my stomach isn’t flat or I’m not a size 4? My body allows me to do amazing things every day I’m grateful for her and I need to lift her up not find a new thing to over-analyze. 

Moving some of Aaron’s pillows I start to make myself comfortable. I lean up against the head of the bed when Aaron enters the room shirtless. His eyes scan the room before they land on my stocking-clad feet and slowly make their way up my body, stopping briefly to stare at my hips and boobs. Something about having Aaron look at me like he’s never seen a woman before makes me feel like an absolute minx. 

I bring one leg up and cross it over the other, “See something you like big guy?” Aaron smirks as he makes his way to the foot of the bed.

He raises his hands above his head, resting them on the top of his canopy bed. His eyes low and lust-ridden, lord forgive me but I’m going to climb this man like a tree.

Towering over me, “Princess, you have no idea. I’m going to do unspeakable things to you.”

“Up, on your knees,” Aaron commands.

My mind is at war, I want to please him but, I’m also not used to being submissive. I slowly position myself on my knees, my heart pounding with anticipation. 

“Crawl to me, pretty girl,” Aaron says unbuckling his belt. If anyone could see us now, they’d say I set feminism back about twenty years. Any woman who tells me they wouldn’t crawl to Aaron in this state is lying. I’d skip if he asked. I reach him at the foot of the bed, and he looks down at me. 

“Mm, look at you. So pretty and obedient, too bad I have to punish you.”

“P- Punish me? Why?” I ask leaning back on my calves. 

“Talking down on yourself. Lo, you’re beautiful. Every part of you from your dimples to your double-jointed big toe you don’t think I know about,” Aaron says with a laugh. 

“Shut up!” I gasp out a shocked laugh. Aaron lets out another laugh before straightening up. 

“In this house, I don’t want to hear you say anything bad about yourself from this point on. Do you understand?”

I laugh again rolling my eyes, “You can’t be serious.”

Aaron’s eyes darken, he rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat, “Turn over and leave your legs hanging off the bed. Now.”

I cock my head to the side, processing what he just said. On one hand, part of me wants just to shut my brain off and let him take control. On the other hand, I’m a boss-ass bitch who doesn’t bow down to any man. But, it looks like the man standing above me will have me do just that. 

“Lauren give in. Don’t you want me to take care of you? You won’t have to lift a finger with me, baby. You spend all day putting out fires for everyone else. Let me take care of you, give in to me sweet girl. Your pleasure is mine. Let me show you what you’ve been missing,” Aaron snaked his hand up to the nape of my neck and began massaging my scalp. 

I reach my hands out, craving to touch him. My hands land on his abs, and I let out a deep sigh when they make contact.

“I’ve dreamed about doing this for years,” I said sliding my hands up his body. 

“You should’ve done it. Would’ve saved us both a lot of time,” Aaron chuckled pulling me closer by the waist. 

I slide my hands up his arms, tracing the veins that live there eventually interlocking my hands behind his head. 

“We’re here now, and I wouldn’t trade our journey for anything. Plus it was really hot seeing you all jealous like that,” I smirked up at him. 

“Hot huh?” Aaron’s lips curled into a smile. I rolled my eyes huffing out a small laugh. 

“Aaron c’mon you know you’re fucking hot. I didn’t know if you felt the same way I did but, you wouldn’t act like that unprovoked. I had my suspicions but that solidified everything for me.”

“So you’re telling me all I had to do was go all caveman to have you like this?”, Aaron said leaning down to kiss up and down my neck.  I nod, moaning softly in his ear. 

“Fuck, I love when you make that sound. Keep using your voice baby, let me hear you.” He slides his hands further down gripping both my asscheeks in his hands and he grips them. Aaron’s hands are everywhere except where I need him most. I’m whimpering and fidgeting hoping he can take the hint.

“What did I just say? Do you want something? Use your voice, or it’ll be a long night for you,” Aaron says smacking my right asscheek. 

“I want you to touch me, please,” I whine.

“Good girl but, I am touching you. You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Aaron smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Fuck, just touch my pussy or something, please! Or do I need to start without you?” I say getting impatient. 

Aaron makes a tsk sound before saying, “And you were doing so well.” He flips me over on my stomach, positioning me with my legs hanging off the bed. 

“You’re never going to fuck me, are you?” I ask with attitude. 

Aaron scoffs from behind me but doesn’t reply. I move to sit up but Aaron presses down the center of my back forcing me back down on the bed. 

“Don’t move, you’re really pushing it, baby girl. You still have time to turn it around, to get a reward from Daddy. Now be a good girl and give me your wrists”

My mind blanks, “My wrists?”

Aaron walks around the bed and squats down in front of me, “Lauren you trust me don’t you?” I nodded. 

“Then baby you have to let me in a little. I know this is new for you but I promise you’re safe with me. Let go and see how fun this is. I promise if you don’t like anything tell me and we’ll stop, ok?” Aaron’s hand is stroking up and down my back. I can feel the tension leaving my body, my eyes softening.��

As a black woman, I always have to be on defense. I never get to submit to something/someone because I always have to be dominant.

“I’m trying I’ve just never been with anyone like you. This is new to me,” I say leaning up on my elbows.

“I promise we’ll go at your pace. Lauren I want to do this for you, you don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time. You can surrender and give me the reigns baby I got you,” Aaron gives me a small smile and leans down to kiss me. I respond immediately, desperate for his attention, his affection. I wrap my arms back around his neck pulling him closer to me.  a muffled ‘unh unh’  leaves his lips before he reaches for my arms, placing them back at my side.

“You’ve been a real brat tonight. what do you have to say for yourself?” Aaron asked standing over me.

I look up at him with a small smile on my lips, “Sorry, Daddy”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?” Aaron asks flipping me back over. He takes both my wrists in his hands, waiting for my reply. 

I nod, “Yes Daddy, I’ll be good.”

A satisfied hum leaves Aaron as he steps back, “Stay put, I’ll be right back.” Then he wanders into his closet and comes out with a tie in his hand. My pussy clenches at the thought of him tying me up and using me for his pleasure. New kink unlocked. Aaron positions my hand behind my back at the base of my spine. 

He ties my hands together, “Now try to break free.” I do as he says, my wrists have a little wiggle room but not enough to get me out of these bindings. 

“If there’s anything you don’t want, or if you want to stop at any point just say ‘red’ and we’ll stop. Okay?” Aaron asks rubbing a hand up my back.

“Ok Daddy, I understand,” I say interlocking my hands together. I feel a rush of cool air as he pulls my panties down.

“Fuuuck, look at this fucking pussy. She’s glistening and so pretty,” Aaron says from behind me. 

I scoff and say, “She better be, all the foreplay I had.”

“Is that attitude I hear?” I feel the warmth of Aaron’s body shifts as he changes his position to stand. Before I can reply, I hear the crack of his hand on my ass before the stinging warmth envelopes my left cheek. 

An involuntary moan leaves my lips and I feel my pussy clench around nothing. I don’t expect being spanked would have this effect on me. There’s no turning back now, so I just let go and enjoy everything Aaron offers.

“Oh, you like that? You’ve ever been spanked before princess?” Aaron asked grabbing my left cheek.

I’m scrambling to find the words, “Yes I.. I like it. No, you’re the first to ever do it,” I say wiggling my hips from side to side.

Aaron groans, his fingers starting to play in my slick, making me moan. 

“You don’t know how happy that makes me princess. To be the first one to corrupt you and make this ass as red as a stop sign,” Aaron said landing another slap on my ass. 

“You going to talk about it or do something?” I asked wiggling my ass back and forth to try and get some kind of reaction from him. 

Aaron lands another slap only ass and I yelp, “Open your fucking mouth. Now.” I turn around sending him a small smirk before I open my mouth, my tongue hanging out slightly. 

“Tired of hearing you run your mouth, so how about I stuff it closed for you?” Aaron mocks. My excitement spikes as I nod eagerly. Finally, I’ll get to have that dick down my throat, my mouth waters at the thought. A deviously sexy expression takes over Aaron’s face as he reaches for something by his feet.  A surprised shout leaves my mouth as Aaron shoves my panties between my lips. 

“Aww, you thought you were getting Daddy’s dick huh? Now why would I reward a mouthy little brat like you? You need to learn a lesson, back on your stomach,” Aaron commands. 

I didn’t think I could be more turned on, but my bedsheets will prove otherwise. I’d never thought something like this could make me so hot. Being under his thumb, letting him take complete control it’s cathartic. A muffled whimper leaves my lips as Aaron grips both my asscheeks hard, jiggling them. 

“Look at this juicy fucking ass baby girl, one day I’ll take this ass,” His hands are like heaven and he kneads and rubs the globes of my ass. I’m squirming on the bed, begging him to do something, anything. 

“Pwease,” I moan around the panties.

A slap landed on my ass with a loud ‘thwack’ and if I get any wetter this bed will turn into a slip and slide. Aaron kneads the tender flesh before he lands more punishing hits. I’m a mess of moans, whimpers, and drool by the time Aaron finishes with me. 

He circles his bed, kneeling in front of me, “Now do you think you can be a good girl for Daddy?” I nod mumbling out a ‘yes’. Aaron pulls the panties out of my mouth before attaching his lips to mine. 

“Untie me, please. I need to touch you, baby,” I moan into Aaron’s mouth. Aaron leans back to look down at me and I’m sure I look crazy. Drool on my chin, tear tracks on my cheeks, and I can’t quit squirming due to the ache between my legs. 

Aaron brings his hand up to my cheek, “Tell Daddy you’ll be good. Say, ‘I’ll be a good girl for you Daddy’ and you can get whatever you want.”

This is it, there’s no turning back and I don’t want to, “I’ll be such a good girl for you Daddy. Please, fuck me. I’ve been waiting so long Aaron, I need you.” 

Feminism be damned, I’ll submit to this man any time, any place. I love him, but will I tell him that tonight? Probably not. 

“See, there’s my sweet girl. Just had to spank the brat out of you. I’m going to make you feel so good, Lauren,” Aaron’s nimble fingers undo the knot that kept my wrists in place. Once he finished that he placed two kisses on the inside of each wrist. He moves me up to the center of the bed while he stands and takes off the rest of his clothes.

“Being that fine should be illegal. You’re so handsome, baby,” I’m pretty sure my eyes are sparkling. I look down at the monster between his legs and a shock of excitement runs up my spine. He’s got girth and length, oh he’s going to destroy me.

“I’m going to need a wheelchair,” I said dragging my eyes up to meet his.

Aaron chuckles as he crawls his way up the bed, “You’ve got a great way of boosting a man’s ego baby. Now spread those legs and let me se fat ma’,” Aaron positioned himself between my legs and spread them. I could hear how wet I was as Aaron pried my legs apart. 

“God, I wanna eat that fucking pussy,” Aaron’s eyes glaze over as he swipes two fingers through my folds. A small gasp leaves my lips when Aaron takes those fingers and sticks them in his mouth. 

“Mmm, damn that’s good,” Aaron moans as he releases his fingers from his mouth with a pop. 

“Round two I promise, but I need to be inside you now Lauren,” Aaron leans back on his calves and reaches toward his bedside drawer.

“What are you doing?” I ask reaching for him. 

“Umm, getting a condom,” Aaron said reaching into his bedside drawer.

“Oh, well I haven’t been with anyone since before we moved in together and I’m clean. No pressure or anything but I’m down if you are,” I said wringing my hands together. 

Aaron pauses, “I haven’t been with anyone in 8 months and I got tested 3 weeks ago. I’m clean.”

A small smile makes its way onto my lips, “Me too.”

 “You’re ok with this though?” Aaron asks bending down.

“Yes, I trust you, Aaron. Now please can you fuck me? Haven’t I been a good girl Daddy?” I ask peering up at him. He tilts his head toward the ceiling groaning out a ‘fuck’. I sit up reaching my hand around his neck and tugging him down so I can kiss him. Our lips meet again and I’m so far gone he won’t have to do much to make me cum.

We lay there just making out, taking our time reveling in this moment. I lean slightly and nip at Aarons's bottom lip soothing the sting with a flick of my tongue. 

“Fuck, do that again,” Aaron groans in my mouth. 

I laugh in his mouth before I snake my tongue back over in his mouth and play with his. Nipping, sucking, and pulling, I treat his tongue like a dick. I move so I’m sitting on his lap, his dick trapped in between us leaking pre-cum. 

“Fuck Daddy, you have the prettiest dick,” I say looking down at where I wish we were connected. 

Aaron chuckles, “Haven’t heard anyone call him pretty before.”

I scoot closer, trying to bury myself under his skin. Mouthing at his neck, “It’s the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Now when are you going to put it in me, baby? Can’t you feel me? How wet I am for you?”

A groan comes from deep in Aaron’s chest, then he crashes into me and I’m flat on my back. 

“You little minx, let’s see how much shit you can talk when I’m nine inches deep,” Aaron said positioning himself at my entrance.

“Nine?” I asked placing my hand on his abs to slow him down.

Aaron smirks, “And you’ll feel every inch.” He leans down to kiss me before I can respond. Aaron slowly inches inside of me. When he said I would feel every inch, he wasn’t lying.

“Oh my god!” I moan my head tilting toward the ceiling. I look back toward Aaron to find him smirking at me. “C’mon baby you can take it. I know you can… fuck. This pussy is too good baby and I haven’t even started moving yet.” I could barely tell where I ended and Aaron began, and he wasn’t even fully inside me yet. 

Aaron slowly inches out before sliding back in, a small hiss leaves my lips at the stretch. “Talk to me baby, how’re you feeling?” Aaron asked as he peppered my face with kisses.

“Mmm, I want more of you,” I say shifting my hips so I could take more of his dick. “Well, I better give baby what she wants then huh?” he bottoms out in one thrust, stealing the breath from my lungs. 

“Damn Lo, you’ve been sitting on sunshine baby,” Aaron says his face scrunched in that adorable scowl. I raise my hand to his brow bone smoothing out the harsh expression painting his face. I can see his mind is elsewhere.

“Come back to me, baby,” I sit up slightly placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth.  Aaron’s eyes meet mine as he starts to thrust. This is by far the best sex I’ve ever had. Aaron’s the perfect size for me, big enough to hurt a little. I can’t contain my moans as he picks up his pace. 

“How’s that feel baby girl? This pussy taking my dick so well. Does it feel as good for you as it does for me?” How he’s able to ask all these questions while fucking the shit out of me is beyond me. I can barely put two words together and he wants me to answer questions.

“Eungh! Fuck Daddy you - you’re so deep. Feel you in my stomach!” I moan out my voice tilting up a bit, I was getting close.  Aaron's eyebrows shot up as he looked down at me, “Dick got you feeling good princess?” I can’t think of anything other than the way his fat dick is filling me up. Jabbing that spongy spot repeatedly makes me stars.

“Aaron! Aaron! Oh god!” I yell leaning up to kiss him. It’s sloppy, passionate, and punishing. I can’t help the little squeals my mouth releases. Aaron leans up on one elbow so he’s slightly hovering over my upper body. His eyes cast downward towards my boobs, his hand snaking up to take one his grasp. Pinching and tugging at my nipple, Aaron leans down taking my breast in his mouth.

“Oouuu Daddy shit!” I squeal. I feel like I’m being set on fire, blood boiling under my skin making everything sensitive. I wasn’t going to last too much longer.

“You want Daddy to make you cum?” Aaron asks with his mouth around my tit. 

“Please! Please! Please! I need to cum!” I’m delirious, moaning wantonly. Aaron brought the hand that was on my breast up to my throat and squeezed. He applied the perfect amount of pressure, depriving me of just enough oxygen to bring my sensitivity up another notch. I don’t even think I’m saying words anymore. Cock-drunk babbles flowing my lips.

“Look at me when you come Lauren,” Aaron taps four fingers against my cheek three times bringing me back to him. I focus my brown eyes on his the color of moss. He’s so fucking pretty like this. Eyes soft and determined, his plump lips set in a slight pout. I bring my hand up to his face, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Baby I’m going to cum. You’re going to make me cum!” I squeal when I feel him place his thumb on my clit rubbing with the perfect precision. 

“Then cum, give it all to Daddy. Give me that shit Lauren, now!” Aaron shouts as his thumb and forefinger pinch my clit. A scream claws its way out of my throat as my orgasm hits me like a truck. It feels so good, like everything and nothing all at once. I heard the squelch and swish of fluid as I squirted all over Aaron. 

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about! Good girl, let Daddy have it,” Aaron brings his fingers back up to my clit, rubbing more out of me. It catapults me right into another orgasm, I’d never had another one so soon after! 

My eyes start to roll in the back of my head, but Aaron reaches up giving me three more taps. 

“Come back princess, watch Daddy come for you,” god did Aaron know how to talk you through it.

I sit up, aiming for Aaron’s ear, “Come in your pussy Daddy. I need you to fill me up.” Aaron releases a low groan, I tilt my head back to watch his face as he comes for me. 

“You’re so pretty while you’re cumming for me, Aaron. Yeah, that’s it. Good boy,” I moan placing a small kiss on his lips. Aaron’s hips stutter, he lets out a breathy grunt, and then I feel the warmth of his cum bathe my insides.

“Mmm, thank you, Daddy,” I moan as Aaron’s thrusts slow to a stop. Aaron’s shoulders relax as he fixes his eyes on mine. 

“Oh my god! That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” Aaron says pulling me to him. 

“I know, it’s never felt like that before. Aaron, I’m already falling for you,” I say looking away, scared to see his reaction. His finger hooks under my chin, tilting my head up so our eyes can meet.

“Lauren, I fell for you the minute I saw you,” a small grin takes place on his face. I return his grin with one of my own. 

“I’m going to pull out, okay?” Aaron said leaning us back down on the bed. He slid out of me a sigh of disappointment leaving my lips. Aaron flops on his side, he reaches over to pull me in for a kiss and I meet him halfway. A content hum leaves his lips as he pulls back. 

“I love you,” Aaron says with pure adoration glowing in his eyes. I feel my eyes widen in disbelief. Aaron seems to come out of his post-orgasm fog as he starts to look a little nervous. Before he has a chance to try and take it back I blurt out, “I love you too”. My eyes started to sting with unshed tears.  Aaron leans in to kiss me again, and we stay that way until we have to get in the shower the chill of the sheets setting in. 

“Come on baby let’s get you cleaned up and put some fresh sheets on the bed,” Aaron threads his finger through mine to his bathroom. He cuts on the shower and then goes to take care of the bedding situation before joining me. Where we spend more time exploring each other. It’s not until I’ve had three more orgasms and the water runs cold, then we got out.

THE END

OMG !! I hope I did this spicy scene justice. I worked hard on it, I hope you guys enjoy this piece. As always constructive criticism is appreciated but be gentle with baby, she’s sensitive. I hope you guys have a great week! Until next time!!!

TEE <3 

TAGLIST:

@blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @kianaleani @pinkkycherrish @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @megamindsecretlair

DIVIDER: @cxrrodedcoffin

[albondiguilla007]

Tomarry recs Part l

Soooo, for the Tomarry girlies, hope this reaches you. Here are some recommendations of the pair. You should know that all of these have something in common though, aside from being my favorites. These are TOMARRY fanfictions, meaning Harry x Tom Riddle, not Harry x Voldemort. (So, most of them time travel)

I feel more comfortable with this ship, and I’ve found that it tends to be less toxic, (though not always). Another important thing about them is that most put both Harry and Tom in equal footing, meaning: no abuse or manipulation (tho Tom certainly tries), or just any funny business.

If there is anything I love about these fics is how Harry confronts Tom, questioning his beliefs and social standing by just being good ole Harry. Sassy, magically powerful and impulsive Harry. So yeah, enjoy!

- [ ] Wear Me Like a Locket Around My Throat: Technically incomplete, but it’s basically a second part. The main arch wraps up very nicely, so I’d count it as complete. The secondary characters are amazing, I fell in love with all of them. I don’t why, but Hogwarts feels pretty nostalgic in this one. 220k https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189349/chapters/16316573

- [ ] Terrible, but Great: Incomplete, still updating. The author has already written most of the second Arch. Tom reaaaallyyy wants Harry to submit and follow the Slytherin hierarchy. Harry won’t. They have the most epic confrontations. 173k https://archiveofourown.org/works/35714410/chapters/89052469

- [ ] Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men: Incomplete: This one is addictive, I’m telling ya. I couldn’t stop reading. Not time travel per se, but still amazing. A tiny bit of Drarry. Harry befriends the Slytherins (Blaise, Pansy, etc) Tom is OBSESSED with Harry, like absolutely crazy about him. 146k https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323864/chapters/19063957

- [ ] you belong to me (i belong to you): Incomplete: Auror absolute boss bitch Harry. He reincarnates in another boy. Sort of? He catches everyone’s attention (Tom’s) when he starts acting differently (confident, powerful, won’t take shit from anyone) than he did before. 112k https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270490/chapters/25203408

- [ ] Earning his notice: Complete: This one is very short, but I feel like it sums up all my favorite tropes. Definitely give it a try. So my boy travels back to Hogwarts, is sorted into Hufflepuff, manages to fly under the radar during his school years and starts working on a shady business on Knockturn Alley. Everything is fine until his shop is attacked by Death Eaters, and ✨surprise✨he earns Tom’s attention. 40k https://archiveofourown.org/series/1174940

- [ ] At the end of every road: Complete: Crack treated seriously. Fluff, sassy Harry. Tom courts Harry, they get engaged. Sort of. Harry becomes a professional Quidditch player. 90k https://archiveofourown.org/works/46642903/chapters/117465823

- [ ] What Souls are Made of: Complete: My two fav things: Golden Trio friendship + Tomarry (Ron and Hermione travel back in time with him) 277k https://archiveofourown.org/works/35109247/chapters/87462256

- [ ] Stab right through: Incomplete: Snarky Harry, I love him. He gets sorted in Ravenclaw (Harry is equally as confused) Tom is intrigued. 80k https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051324/chapters/27288978

more recommendations here: Part ll

[holylulusworld]

Breathless

Summary: Dream a little dream…or shit…

Summary: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Secret crush

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being an awful boss (mentioned), enemies to lovers, tension, daydreams, secret crush, fear of flying (implied)

Words: 1440+  

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C5: Remote control 

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo: Square 10: Sexual frustration

Square filled for @allcapsbingo: G 4: “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Square filled for @marvelfluffbingo (expired): Square 19: office au

Part 1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Miss Y/N to my office,” Bucky barks. “I think we should talk about a few things…” 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” You are still a little shaken from the naughty dream you woke from moments ago and struggle to look him in the eyes. You only pray you didn’t talk in your sleep.

“I need you to come with me,” he casually says. “Tomorrow. On a business trip.”

“Tomorrow?” You splutter. “But…I didn’t pack, and I don’t know where we are going. Why do you tell me about this so late?”

“It’s a case of emergency. Stark wants to do business with one of my business associates. I need you there to distract him so I can make the deal with Barton.”

“You want me to distract Tony Stark? How? Do you want me to give him a lap dance or more?” while you cross your arms over your chest, and glare at your boss, the man himself still looks proud of his idea.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re not too bad to look at and you are good at making conversation. I want you to go home, pack a few things, and meet me at the airport at 7 o'clock sharp,” he demands. “Don’t run late.”

“I never ran late in all the years I’m working for you. But… tomorrow is my day off! I had had plans, and you just tell me I must go on a business trip.”

“You can take a day off after any other day, Ms. Y/L/N. I need you and I won’t ask again.”

You huff. He didn’t ask but demanded your obedience. Mr. Barnes doesn’t understand your irritation or that you’re angry at him. In his opinion, he gives you the perfect opportunity to prove your worth as his assistant.

“7 o'clock sharp, no discussion,” he snaps at you. “You are my assistant and will do as told. I need you at the airport tomorrow morning.”

It’s situations like this leaving you helpless and struggling. You should tell him, no, and to fuck off. But this would mean losing your job. Mr. Barnes is not being reasonable, and he knows it.

You’re fuming but can’t do shit about it. So, once again, you give in to someone else’s demands and swallow the words you’ve got on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine.” You turn around to storm out of Mr. Barnes’ office. If you stay for longer, you’ll slap the smug grin off his handsome face.

Morning came much too soon. You’re in the worst mood ever, and tired as fuck. On top of all, you dreamed of the smug fucker named James Buchanan Barnes again.

This time, he fucked you on top of the printer and plastered the copies of your ass all over the office. He was into degrading you in your dreams and it made you horny as hell. Sadly, you didn't have the time to take care of the problem. Now you are tired, cranky, and frustrated because you didn't get off.

“You made it in time, a progress,” Mr. Barnes dares to say. In the four years you’re working for him, you only once didn’t make it in time. 

“I’m always on time.” Your boss ignores you sassed back. “So, where are we going? I still need to get my ticket.”

“What are you wearing?” Mr. Barnes shoves his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down. He almost looks offended by your styling. “Are you wearing sweatpants and a Hello Kitty t-shirt? Where are your shoes?”

“It’s casual Friday, Mr. Barnes,” you feign ignorance. “I didn’t know we’ve got a dress code for a flight. I don’t think people in economy class will judge my choice of clothing. I want to be at least comfortable if I’m stuck in an airplane with two people for hours. And I got shoes on. Flip-lops.”

“Economy class?” He takes his sunglasses off. “I hate to disappoint you, by you are going to enjoy only my presence. I already got your ticket.” Mr. Barnes smirks. “I wonder if people in the first class will like your outfit.”

“Stop fidgeting,” Mr. Barnes mutters. You’re always nervous before take-off and can't sit still. You are gripping your remote control tightly with your right hand and press it to your chest. “Why in the world did you bring a remote control?”

He watches you stare down at your feet. “It calms me. When I got scared at night, I grabbed something to hold tight onto. If it happens now, I use the remote control from the TV in my bedroom.”

“Hmm…interesting,” oddly, his features soften, and he grabs your left hand. “If you are scared, squeeze my hand. It’s better than the remote control.”

“I didn’t know you can be nice too.” You glance at your boss. “Thank you.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replies sharply as if you offended him with your words. “In my world, you must be hard and strict. I can’t attend a business trip in flip-flops and a Hello Kitty shirt.”

You feel insecure out of a sudden. At the airport, you felt self-confident, but now, you feel like a fool. “I wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t know I’d end up in the first class.”

Mr. Barnes doesn’t reply. He waits for the take-off and thinks of the deal he wants to seal with Barton. “You should try to get some sleep after the take-off and redress at the hotel. We don’t have much time until the first meeting.”

“Okay,” you focus on breathing, and the warm hand holding yours. Your boss can be an ass, but right now he grounds you and helps you not to be scared anymore.

“Mr. Barton,” you politely shake Clint Barton’s hand. He smiles in return and asks you about your flight. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he holds your hand a little too long for Mr. Barnes’ liking. Your boss sneers, and he squares his jaw when you giggle at something Clint said.  

“Clint, we should get going. I have a few more meetings this afternoon. Can we talk about the deal now, or not?” You quirk a brow at your boss. 

“Shall we, Ms. Y/L/N,” Clint smirks at your boss. “We don’t want Bucky to get impatient, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “We should talk about the deal and the upcoming contract. I checked on the numbers, and you’ll see that Barnes Inc. is the perfect partner.”

Mr. Barnes dips his head to look at you. He looks impressed and nods his head in approval. 

“Well said, Ms. Y/L/N.”

The meeting dragged on. Your boss and Clint talked about every single detail while you tried to keep up with them and take notes. Or at least look interested when they started talking about cars, and investments.

While they sealed the deal of the century, their words not yours, you wondered why Tony Stark didn’t show.

Now that you think about it, neither your boss nor Mr. Barton mentioned Tony Stark.  

“Perfect,” your boss exclaims. He and Mr. Barton shake hands, as you are still thinking about the things Mr. Barnes told you. “Ms. Y/L/N, are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.”

“We earned dinner, didn’t we?” Mr. Barnes asks, taking you by surprise. He furrows his brows as you don’t answer immediately. “Italian, Indian, or Asian. What do you want to eat?”

“Okay,” your heart flutters when he holds out his hand to take the iPad and folder out of your hands. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

He grins. “Remember, you asked for this…”

“A hot dog,” you giggle. “I thought you wanted to dine tonight, boss.” You don’t mind your boss’s choice. You love a good hotdog.

“Y/N, that’s the best hotdog in the world. And for tonight, call me Bucky. We are officially off duty and got the deal done,” he grins before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. He smears mustard all over his face, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got something…wait,” you use the napkin to clean his face, making things worse as you smear the mustard all over his cheek. “Sorry…let me get a tissue.”

“Not bad, but there are better ways to clean my lips…” Your heart beats out of your chest when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. “You didn’t think I brought you here to flirt with Stark, right?”

“What? I-“You pinch your arm to check if you are dreaming again. “What?”

“Doll, I think we should talk about a few things after we finished the hot dog…”

Tags in reblog.

[angelsleepinggurl]

req - jjk characters (gojo lol) saying 'i know, baby, i know' when babying/comforting yn. ervyabebwyrogbrw

please feel no rush/pressure for this and look after yourself :)

𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. Getting outshone and underappreciated for your good efforts can have a toll on you. luckily your boyfriend is there for you. wc . around 806 tags .gojosatoruxreader, boyfriendgojosatoru x reader, angst.

~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••

The need to feel approved of is your weakness, it’s the reason that you do what you do. It’s the reason you pour your heart into every project, why you stay late at the office, and why you’re the first to volunteer for anything that might earn a nod of approval from your superiors. Yet, that same need is a double-edged sword. When recognition eludes you, when all your good efforts at work are overlooked because of a single, simple mistake, you crumble. You can’t help it. The sting of being unseen, of being undervalued, is sharper than any physical pain. It’s late at night when you get home. The house is void of movement.

Slowly, you slip off your shoes and place them on the ground. Slowly you pull off your scarf, your neck greeted by the chill of the house. Slowly, as if the weight of the day has seeped into your very bones, you make your way to the bathroom, immediately crumbling once the door clicks behind you. You’re alone, free from prying eyes, but the solitude offers no comfort, only the space for your emotions to finally break free. Your eyes sting as tears cascade down your face again, your fingers quick to catch all mascara-stained tears trickling down your face. Swallowing sobs as you resort to using your arms to wipe your tears. This isn’t good, you have an early shift tomorrow morning too. Just as you’re about to stand up and head to your shared room a soft knock is placed on the bathroom door.

You didn’t want him to see you like this, your boyfriend, Gojo. Neither the less you open the door, head dropping down low, your hair acting as a shield of your tear-stained face. He had a way of knowing when something was wrong, a sixth sense that always seemed to kick in when you needed him most. “Baby? What’s going on? Everything okay?” his voice is gentle, a side of him you’ve never seen before. You stifle another sob and nod, refusing to make eye contact with him. “You sure?” he asks and this time he gently grabs your chin with his fingers, lifting up your face and moving your hair out of your face. His eyes search yours, worry etched into his expression. It’s the last thing you want—to see that look in his eyes, to know that your pain is causing him distress.

“Yeah, It’s just, been a long day.” your voice cracks as you speak, your lip quivering as tears threaten to fall again. His hand slips into yours and he gives it a firm reassuring squeeze. “I wanna hear about your day please tell me.” With a shaky breath you explain, “I just got to work y’now, a little late cuz of the rain and traffic and the boss’s assistant flips out, telling me that actions like these won’t be tolerated and my stay at the company is numbered if this behaviour keeps up. And then Lee pitches a better design than me and that assistant starts looking at me all ‘You’re not worthy to be at this company.’ And it just broke my heart, cuz I’ve been with this company for 8 years, I’ve never been late, I’ve never had a slip-up, I always present good ideas, well if they're not good then they're decent, and I don’t make mistake like so often. Other workers are out here worse than me and I’m the one they’re putting eyes on.”

You finally break down again, this time Gojo wraps you in his arms, holding you tight as your body shudders against his frame. “ It’s not fair.” you sob, your voice muffled by his chest. “I know baby, I know.” he coos, stroking your head. For a long while, neither of you speak. You just stand there, held together by his embrace, his steady heartbeat a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. He strokes your head, his fingers threading through your hair, and you cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you from drowning in your own sorrow.

Finally, when your sobs have quieted and your tears have slowed, Gojo tilts your face up again, wiping away the last of your tears with his thumb. “You’re stronger than this, you know?” he says softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity. “You’re more than what they see at work. And I see you. All of you. And I’m proud of you.”

Your lips press into a thin line, not ready to twist into a confident smile, yet you nod understandingly. You rest your head on his chest again, finding immediate comfort in his touch. “I love you.” you say quietly. The man begins to sway slightly with you in his embrace.

“I love you too sugar.”

~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••~~••~~••~~~~••~~••

[sanzaibian]

I look on with pride as I enter the Tokyo University of Arts, the most prestigious art school of the whole country. I studied so hard for the whole past year, and yet I barely made it through the entrance exams… but as the flowers bloom, it is time for me to enter the next step of my life !

I have had an immaculate record : I’ve had good grades throughout middle and high school, I was class representative in most classes in that time, and I already had a portfolio ready ! Really, I was the perfect candidate for the fine arts studies ! I’ll be able to realize my dream of becoming a great architect !

However, as I approach the steps of the Sogakudo Concert Hall where the Entrance Ceremony is supposed to take place, I am suddenly blasted by big plumes of smoke. The smell is all too familiar to me, as I distinctly remember disciplining a students who were smoking in the premises, and although now I’m studying alongside adults, it doesn’t mean spreading smoke without any care for others shouldn’t be grounds for objection. And as I turn to see the origin of the smoke, I am comforted in my decision, as a small group of the most typical of thugs appear in front of me. A small group of Bosozoku, with big obnoxious pompadours on their heads and leather jackets one of them with a cigarette in his mouth and another with hair dyed blonde.

“Hey, this is a university campus ! You can’t smoke and loiter like that !” I came in strong, but I was a bit disconcerted when they started laughing. Though it doesn’t matter, guys like them always act tough at first. - Hahaha ! Bro, look at this kouhai (junior) tryin’ to order us around !” Mocked one of them with an enthusiastic tone. - Well, what’s he gonna do, is he gonna call security ?” Added the second, with calmer and more objective tone. - Kouhai,” started saying the one who was smoking, looking at me in the eyes. “d’ya think ya have a right to boss me around ?”

W-wait… kouhai ? They may be older than me, I agree, but are they actually students here ? They’re mocking me, of course, such a prestigious academy would never let in rascals such as them ! It just cannot be !

“W-well… I’m sure that you aren’t allowed to disturb other students like that ! It harms public harmony ! - Public harmony, you say ?” Continues the one who was smoking. “Well, you know where I put your public harmony ? In my ass !”

The other roared of laughter. But I am not this easily fussed.

“Well, no matter what, I’ll report you all for trying to disturb the Tokyo University of Arts Entrance Ceremony by your illegal loitering.” I take my phone out. “You see, I can call the police.” I smile as I hear their laughs falter. - I see you’re already going with the nuclear option…” The smoking guy said, as he puts out his cigarette on a nearby wall. “Fine, we’ll go so you’re happy. - Well, great ! And I hope I won’t see you all again !” I can’t help but smile at my easy victory. A bit too easy, actually… but let’s rejoice rather than fear. - Don’t worry, you won’t see us until you need to meet back up…” The smoking one ends, quite ominously. “If you need to find us, Ryuunosuke will go to The Gigs tomorrow evening. - I hope to see you there.” I hear the calmer voice behind me, before suddenly hearing the click of a lighter.

I look back, and see one of the Bosozoku I saw earlier in the group, a lighter in his hand and a mask on his face.

Funny enough, with this ad behind him he almost looks like a graffiti artist… But no, the main thing is… has he tried to set me on fire !? I take a step back in defense, as he raises his hands as if he was innocent. I look behind me and see that the two others have also put on masks, and are starting to make their way out.

“Goodbye !” Says the one who had a lighter in his hand, likely that ‘Ryuunosuke’ guy, as he follows his… gang.

I stand there, quite confused by the whole altercation. What has actually happened ? Why did everything take on a sinister tone at the end ? Why did they say we would meet again ? Why were there these kind of thugs right besides the Sogakudo Concert Hall ? And... er… why am I not in the Sogakudo Concert Hall ?

Oh no ! I forgot everything due to that ! I hope I’m not late…

As I start making my way to the hall, I hear some weird noise as my foot touched the ground. I looked down, and saw a red cigarette on the ground, that was seemingly lighten up until I stepped on it. Great, these ruffians even littered… though the smell is a bit weird, it doesn’t seem like usual tobacco smell. It could even be said to smell… a bit good, actually ? Well, better than most, it doesn’t actually smell good, but the smell is still weirdly present.

But I don’t have any time to waste. The Entrance Ceremony is going to start any minute, I can’t be late to it !

I mean, I don’t know what I expected from some speech by important people, but this one was especially egregious. They were thanking a bunch of people, and patronizing us, saying we were the “future of Japan”… Thinking about it, it was about the same content as third year of high-school, but at least back then the headmaster had some charisma.

So, a bit disappointed, I make my way to Nezu station, to go back home. I might as well have stayed home, the consequences would have been barely noticeable. Plus, I could have bought a lollipop. I don’t know why, but I’ve got the urge to play with something in my mouth.

As I enter Nezu station, I automatically check the cameras and the personnel, and see that they have a dead space where I can go without my face being recognize. I smile, and take the very path I planned out to jump over the fare. As I do that, I get a rush of adrenaline, and make my way towards the platform, reveling in the danger.

But as I enter the train, I realize what I have done.

What has happened to me ? Why did I even think of entering the station illegally ? I have a metro card, and my parents have bought a full subscription, so it doesn’t even make sense ? God, this is the kind of things that those Bosozoku I sneered at would do… Then why the hell am I replicating this kind of hooligan behavior ?

When I arrive at my station, I scan my fare card, quite bashful, before leaving. I may have entered illegally, I won’t leave illegally. Though I must admit the adrenaline was fun. Even though it pains me to say that.

The remainder of my day is spent sulking in my small student’s apartment, going through lollipop after lollipop I bought at the Kombini after eating lunch. Then, the evening, I prepare my stuff for the beginning of classes tomorrow, hoping that my strange outburst of rebel attitude would be a fluke.

And so I drift off to sleep.

When I wake up, I find myself weirdly void of energy.

Usually, mornings are easy, and I’m ready for a full day of class. But today, things just ain’t it. It’s especially bad since today marks the beginning of classes… At least I had the foresight of preparing my things yesterday evening… Well, no matter. I prepare a bit more rice than usual to get the day really started, hopefully it will be enough to wake up properly.

After eating, I go to the bathroom to prepare myself. I put on my clothes, I brush my teeth, and then I search for… something ? I don’t actually know what, but I know I should be putting something in my hair… Plus, where is my comb ? I need a comb. Why do I need a comb ?

Oh no, oh no, the weird stuff from yesterday are happening again ! It can’t be !

I abandon all that searching and go out to class. This time, I make an actual effort to take the metro the correct way, yet during the whole ride the thrill of bypassing the fair kept on nagging me. And when I entered my first classroom, my troubles didn’t even actually end. I had a hard time concentrating on the teacher, especially on respecting his authority. I only wanted to go out, not to be trapped in here doing boring calculations… But I must admit that the classes that were more focused on design and on drawing, letting me do my own damn thing, were actually fun. I was able to flex my creative muscles in a way I didn’t know I could until now. I almost couldn’t recognize myself !

However, let’s be honest, something very weird is going on with me. And it all started with these Bosozoku.

Oh, yeah, didn’t they say that they would be waiting for me ? At “The Gigs” today evening ? Of course, yeah, what’s going wrong obviously has something to do with them. Otherwise they wouldn’t have insisted on me meeting back up with them…

I sigh. I know I’m the duck carrying its own leek, but it’s the only way to understand whatever has happened to me. And the only way to find a cure.

“The Gigs” was actually quite hard to find, but I found out that they were referring to a concert in the Nippon Budokan. Thankfully, I only had one change to do from the Chiyoda line to arrive here, but the whole ordeal of finding the place after many, many furious google searches proved quite frustrating.

But as I arrived to the door of the Nippon Budokan, as convened stood firm one of the Bosozoku I saw yesterday.

“So you came !” He exclaims, with a mix of amusement and surprise. “If you don’t remember, I’m Kowa Ryuunosuke. And, wouldn’t you know it, I have additional tickets !” While saying that, he waves two pieces of paper. - I don’t care. I want the weird stuff to end.” I answer, resolute, and a bit filter-less, I admit. - You know, Tsutomu and I thought that you wouldn’t show up, that we would have to find you. But no, turns out Hitoshi was correct, you would immediately notice that something was off. - What do you mean notice that something is off. You knew that weird stuff would happen to me ? - You know, the show is gonna start soon. I guarantee you’ll love it. You coming ?”

I am starting to get angry at how he keeps on avoiding my question.

“No, I’m not coming with you. I’m waiting to have an answer and a way to stop whatever you did to me.” I maintain as he sighs in answer. - Look. I can help you, but only if you come with me. I’m going in, and if you don’t follow me, you’ll have to fare for yourself in… whatever you found.”

I blush of embarrassment. I’ve lost at my own game, and now he knows I have nothing he’s interested in.

I guess now I must weigh whether sticking with these rascals is worth it or not. The benefits of not sticking are obvious : I wouldn’t have to associate with Bosozoku, and they wouldn’t be able to pressure me to do anything. But if I don’t, I do risk changing in ways I can’t understand, and may even put in jeopardy my studies in more substantial ways than being with Bosozoku. The choice is actually hard to make…

But then, knowing some people wouldn’t be so bad for such a lonely guy as myself… plus, it looks like it’s a Kishidan concert, it’s not a bad band… And tomorrow, I don’t have any early class… Plus, if we actually become friends, I may be able to actually find a way to reverse the effects of whatever they gave me...

“Eh, you know what, I’ll follow you. ‘Can’t that bad to go to a free concert.” I capitulate. - Welcome, then !”

Kowa gives me one of the concert tickets, smiling, likely happy to have scored a victory. He’s actually somewhat cute, gleeful like that. So I follow him inside, and we take our places, ready to listen to what turns out to be his favorite band.

Well, this was a blast ! I’ve never felt more alive than yesterday evening !

I was full of so much energy, it’s actually quite unbelievable ! I’m usually lethargic when we reach 5PM, 0AM or even 1AM the few times I actually stay up this late. Heh, I’d usually actually feel as lethargic as I’m doing right now, waking up ! But Kowa and I really had a great time. From around the half-point to the end of the concert, we were standing up, dancing our hearts off while Kishidan was giving their all. By the end of the evening, Kowa’s pompadour was ruined and I was thoroughly out of breath, but we agreed that it was worth it. The music was a lot more enjoyable than I remember, even more than I would rate video game music – and that’s quite a feat to remove Dragon Quest from the podium. I’m even finding myself humming the melody this very morning !

After eating breakfast, I find myself again in my bathroom searching for something that I don’t have after having brushed my teeth and washed my face. However, this time when I see the contents of my closet, I feel a bit self-conscious. There really isn’t much that’s actually cool, only uncreative dress shirts, plain jackets, mandatory ties and monochrome T-shirts. Why did I ever think this would even pass as clothing ?

I freeze. This is not me. I never cared about how I look. Only being comfortable and acceptable in society ever came into account when I chose clothing ! Besides, most of the time I only dressed in uniform ! This is something I’ll have to ask Kowa about. It is not the most egregious thing to happen, but it’s yet another step in leaving who I actually am behind. And I’m not keen on that.

Thankfully, Kowa told me that we could meet back up at Ueno station late afternoon, so I can ask him about it. And he also added me on Line, so, in case of emergency I can call him.

But now, class is the priority.

I look around in the train station, unsure of where I’m supposed to go. Although Kowa gave me a place and an hour to meet at, he wasn’t clear on how we would do that. But I’ll be honest, after all the dancing yesterday, we were both quite hammered. Though it really doesn’t help my case, as I was self-conscious the whole day, so I was unable to properly concentrate. Hopefully, he will find a way to help me, it’s barely my second day in the most prestigious academy of arts in the country, and I’m already encountering so many problems !

Suddenly, I receive a notification on my phone. Oh, it’s from Line ! Apparently, I was invited to the group 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) by Kowa… and on there, someone named お鼠様 (Sir Rat) gave instructions, likely addressed to me.

He said :

“上野駅の下にですよ！参加してぞ！(I’m at the bottom of Ueno Station ! Join me !)”

His profile picture is cute, actually, being that of a rat with a cool hairstyle… quite reminiscent of that of the Bosozoku I now hang out with, actually – which should not really come as a surprise, thinking about it.

Back to the point, what did he mean by “at the bottom of Ueno station” ? It’s quite big, and there’s no real “bottom” point…

As I think about it for a while, wandering aimlessly in the meantime, my head starts to ache, and more than ever I crave for something in my mouth… I don’t know what, but something needs to go in. Thankfully, I thought to bring some spare lollipops, but they seem both too big and too small, they only bring temporary relief. That may also be something to talk about to them.

But bottom of the station… bottom of the station… Ha ! Yes, of course, the Metro ! That’s the part of the station that’s the deepest inside the earth !

I rush to there, hoping that Kowa – or more likely whoever that お鼠様 (Sir Rat) is – has not yet left. As I ride down the escalator, I keep my head out for anybody with the Bosozoku style. I wander a bit, not seeing anybody fitting the criteria, when suddenly I notice a service door that wasn’t fully closed.

Now, understand me. Service doors, as the name suggests, are for service employees only. Customers aren’t supposed to go in.

But the setup of this whole thing, and the mere thrill of doing something forbidden proved too enticing, as I find myself striding towards it, and entering. And my braveness… or rather foolishness if my opinion is the matter, is rewarded, as I find a Bosozoku with a big pompadour dyed blonde – though it appears ginger in the dark – standing there, with sunglasses and the attitude of a certified bad boy.

“Hey, so you made it, kouhai ! I was sure you would understand my hints ! You struck me as the smart kind – for better or for worse.” The guy hailed me very enthusiastically, almost making a motion of hugging towards me. - Uh… O-Nezu-sama, I presume ? - Heh, that’s correct ! Though you’d better know me as Soiri Tsutomu, that’s more worldly !” He corrects me, smiling seemingly both of amusement and compassion. - Oh, I-I’m sorry, Soiri…” I keep my head down in a show of humility. I may be breaking the law by being here, but I’m not breaking etiquette at the same time. - Don’t worry, don’t worry ! So, what brings you here ?”

I don’t quite know what to answer to this blunt a question. I expected him to rope me into something else like Kowa did, so while I thought of topics to bring up, I never thought of questions to ask… But as I look down at my clothes which bothered me the whole day, I get an idea. However, I barely open my mouth when Soiri interrupts me :

“Oh, yeah, I agree. That’s absolutely terrible fashion sense that you have here ! We’re gonna have to fix that pronto ! But you’re in luck !” Soiri makes a double biceps pose, pointing with his thumbs to his grubs. “I happen to be the best in fashion inside the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), so you’re in good hands !”

I squint, not understanding how he knew what I was thinking about. Seeing me stunned like that, he opens his mouth ready to speak once again, but this time I do manage to outpace him.

“Well, if you say so, then let’s go !” Better to leave this room earlier than later. It might be thrilling to live in danger, I don’t want to push my luck. - Okay, then follow me !”

As he leaves the service area to go to the subway, I follow him. I do ask him multiple times where we’re going, but he stays silent, telling me that it’s a surprise. We take the Ginza line and step down at Suehirocho station. We walk through a few narrow alleyways until we reach a small shop named Nichiwa.

Smiling, he invites me in, and when I enter, I’m immediately amazed at what that store actually sells. It sells leather clothes. Of all kinds of styles. And I didn’t know how much I needed leather clothes until today.

We bought a lot of clothes there. He also lead me to a few other stores where we bought other actually trendy and cool clothes, that are much better than anything I had in my closet.

As we left our last store, full of clothes in multiple bags, I felt quite tired from all the shopping, but at the same time so excited for this. Never would I ever need to feel self-conscious about what I wear ! So I thanked him :

“Thank you so much, Soiri. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here to help me ! - Don’t worry, I love helping people finding clothes ! I might be at the Tokyo Arts School for music, I could absolutely see myself doing fashion in another universe. - So you do actually study at the Tokyo Arts School ? I thought that you were just hanging out as rascals somewhere you were not supposed to !” I ask, in disbelief, causing him to laugh. - Of course I do ! We all do study here, in the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) ! Well, Hitoshi doesn’t anymore, but it’s only because he graduated last year. - Oh, wow… I would have never thought, looking at how you dressed…” I actually feel quite guilty for stereotyping them like that. Turns out they do belong in the Arts School, I was the one in the wrong. Thinking about it, how many other people did I label as rascals only by looking at their style ? “But you used the name 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), that’s also what the Line group I was invited to is named. Is that actually the name of your group, or is it just a funny thing for the Line group ? - Yup, that’s our name ! Subject to change, of course, like everything, but we really like it. Besides, we’re all really happy to bring you inside the group, so you’ll get a say in changing the name if you want !”

I stop at that.

Did he say that he wants to bring me inside their group ? That’s not what I want, what I want is to find a solution for the weird behaviors I have ! I don’t want to have anything more to do with them than I already have ! Besides, it’s their fault if all of that happens to me. Did they plan on that ? Were they just searching for anyone to add in their group of rascals, and chose to change me so that I fit their wishes ?

“I have no intention of joining your group ! 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) or not, I’m only doing this because you did something weird to me ! Are you actually doing some kind of advanced kidnapping or what ?” I snap.

His turn to look stunned. It seems like he realized he said something wrong and is scrambling to find a way to scavenge it back. Well, let him stew. They brought it onto themselves by toying with me.

“Uh… well…” Mumbles Soiri, before he manages something a bit clearer. “Y-you know, you shouldn’t be saying that to the one who basically bought all of your clothes ! Let me say that it’s not cheap ! - You have no right to say that !” I pounce back. “You’re the one who’s molding me into what you want, of course you’re not buying me clothes out of the kindness of your heart ! You’re doing that to further your nefarious plan !”

He looks away, likely in shame. Or at least I hope so.

“So now, I go back home, and you find a way to reverse that. The clothes you bought are my insurance.” I layer on the guilt.

And on that, I leave for the subway station, but before I’m too far from him, he shouts to me :

“I can’t ! ... Message us when you need to.”

A few days passed, and I haven’t contacted them since. I’m still in their Line group, but I muted them. I only want the hotline just in case something truly beyond my control happens. And to be honest, I’ve had multiple times the urge to call them. I’m growing more and more restless every day, I’m finding myself more and more confused with foreign urges I cannot satisfy, and I’m becoming more and more estranged from myself. By now, I only dress with the clothes Soiri bought me, and the only music I listen to is that of the group I danced to with Kowa.

And so I stand there, in my 7J flat, chewing on the remains of my last lollipop, the corpses of eight more lying on the table, ready to burst at any moment. Nothing feels right, and even the thing I used to do feel wrong, now.

I look at my phone. Must I do it ? … No… I can still resist, prevent them from molding me anymore than they already did… But is it wise ? Look at me, I’m way past my limit, anymore and I may very well land in a mental hospital… Like it or not, everything the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) gave me made my plight easier to bear…

I sigh.

I’ll regret it, I’m sure. But I can’t. Not anymore. I made a valiant try, but this is beyond my powers. In the end, I’m still a normal boy, adult since only a few months ago, barely out of public education. I am not equipped to bear this kind of pain.

“おはよう皆…参加しようか？(Hey everyone… Can we meet up ?” I send, defeated, on the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) chat. - おはよう後輩！もちろんです！龍之���と俺はザ・デック・コーヒーエンドパイに遊ぶ。会合しようぞ！(Hey, kouhai ! Of course ! Ryuunosuke and I are hanging out at The Deck Coffee & Pie. Let’s meet up !)” Answered Soiri, faster than I expected. Was he monitoring his phone or what ? - 渋谷区にだぞ。明治神宮前駅と北参道駅の間に。(It’s in Shibuya district. Between Meiji-jingumae station and Kita-sando station.)” Added Kowa, as he is likely scolding Soiri for not giving me the cafe’s location. - 今来るぞ。(I’m coming.)” I answer succinctly.

Thankfully, Meiji-jingumae station is on the same line as the one I take to go to class, so I quickly hop on the first subway, and make my way to Shibuya. Although, all in all, I do stand defeated, I make my way to Deck Coffee & Pie with determination. I need to find an actual solution… even if it means being roped in to their group. They don’t even seem that bad anymore, that’s to say…

I enter the small cafe, looking around to find Kowa and Soiri. As I go from table to table, having explained to the cashier that I’m joining up with “friends”, I finally notice Kowa seating alone at a table.

“Hey, kouhai ! How are you ?” He hails me.

He looks quite different, actually, when he doesn’t wear a mask ! Plus, his hair is quite immaculate today… did he go to the barber’s ?

“Not that great, I’m… actually surrendering. You can do anything you want with me, I just want my suffering to stop.” I answer truthfully, disregarding whatever actual answer that question should have brought. - You’re over-estimating our amount of agency, you know !” He smiles with compassion, visibly understanding my plight. “We can’t ‘mold’ you like you claim we do, we can only introduce to things you’ll like, you know… - Don’t be kidding me, you’re doing something to me, there’s no other way…”

He sighs, and then takes out of his bag a red cigarette. It looks like the one I’ve seen back when at the Entrance Ceremony, but it’s not a kind I’ve ever seen otherwise. Weirdly, it feels somewhat inviting...

“Now, I don’t smoke. And neither does Tsutomu. Hitoshi does, and he has developed a special brand that, when inhaled, changes someone.” He reveals, while I look at him, horrified. “I don’t know where or how he made them, but he made three of them : I carry one, he carries one, and the third one was used on you. Tsutomu doesn’t get any, because even he knows he will waste it.”

It’s… a lot to digest. So it was an actual intentional ploy to transform me… thanks to what likely is a dangerous drug…

“I didn’t want to use it. But you were annoying, and Hitoshi wanted to test it on you because of that. - It wasn’t a reason ! Yes, I may have been nosy, but it’s not because I’ve done a bad thing that I deserve to be changed to my very core !” I protest, though I now understand that nothing can be done to amend this decision. - And it’s not because a lot of young criminals dress like we do that we need to be driven out.”

I shut up at him exposing my hypocrisy like this. By now, I really regret what I have done… I guess what is happening to me must be retribution for the numerous people I likely wronged by not trying to understand their character.

Suddenly, I hear the voice of Soiri ring from the other side of the room.

“You’re here !”

I looked in the direction of his voice, and noticed him making a weird pose before making his way to us. I cannot help but smile at him doing silly stuff like that, it’s really refreshing seeing someone living his life in full, while on the other hand I lived mine always shying away from having genuine fun.

“You found us, kouhai ! Or I guess I should call you bro, now, huh ?” He takes place next to Kowa, in front of his drink. “You should really use my first name rather than family name. We’re all familiar, here ! - You may also use mine.” Adds Kowa… well, I guess, Ryuunosuke, now. - Uh… hello… Tsutomu.” I meekly answer. - So, whatcha talkin’ about ?” Tsutomu asks. - I decided to reveal to him the truth about the red cigarette. - Oh, so heavy stuff ! I guess you’re ready to fully transition to your new self, huh ?”

I look away, still uneasy about the whole debacle. Ryuunosuke visibly notices that, as he gives the stink eye to Tsutomu, before continuing to explain the situation to me.

“Hitoshi told us that using the cigarette would cause someone to be more like us, and it seems that it was correct, as you liked our music and you’re wearing the clothes Tsutomu bought you. But I don’t know how much more we need to give you before you can be fully alright with your new situation. - There’s really no way to fix that ? To go back to who I really am ?” I ask, little hope remaining. - Not to my knowledge. If you should ask anyone that question, it would be Hitoshi, but he will be opposed to turning you back.”

I sigh.

“So, if you want to know what are my problems right now, well… every morning I find myself looking for some kind of product to put into my hair, but I don’t have any… Is that part of the deal ? - The pomp is included ?” Laughed Tsutomu, before being scolded by Ryuunosuke’s angry look. “Nah, seriously, it’s not hard once you get the hang of it. Like, bro, I could show you right now in this bathroom ! - I…” I start answering, before I’m suddenly cut off. - He needs a haircut.” Interjects Ryuunosuke. “You may try, but I guarantee it will look like your biggest disaster. - Oh yeah, you’re right.”

As they discuss the logistics of hair-cutting, I take out yet another lollipop and put it into my mouth. Although it’s not perfect, it does make me feel more at ease. That red cigarette was weird, it looked bizarrely short, yet also inviting. Is that what I crave to go in my mouth ? No, it cannot be, Ryuunosuke clearly said that both he and Tsutomu don’t smoke, and that the effects make me more like them. Plus, smoking is very bad for the lungs, I don’t want any of that poison in my lungs…

“So we’re goin’, then ?” Suddenly said Tsutomu quite loudly, driving me out of my thoughts. - Uh… yeah ? Yeah, I guess.” I answer, unsure of what I’m agreeing to. Though I guess it’s the famed haircut that is being referred to. - Then let’s gooooo !” He celebrated, once again with much more enthusiasm than needed.

Smiling from his contagious glee, I follow both of the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento) guys into a nearby barbershop. They’re visibly regulars in this place, as they present me to the owner who takes me in charge. I’m lead to a seat, where the owner promptly takes care of my hair. He cuts it mostly on the side, though not by much. It seems to mostly be adjustments, more than a complete change of style.

“So, you got roped into going リーゼント (rīzento). How did they do it ?” The barber suddenly asks. - Uh... well can’t I chose to try new things ?” I ask aggressively, not wanting to answer truthfully to his question. - Heh, I’m sorry ! It’s only because you don’t seem to be the kind of guys who would be into that. You may be dressed in leather, but it shows in your face that you’re not the kind of people who would usually do that.”

Quite a shrewd guy, to notice that. And I don’t even think Tsutomu and Ryuunosuke have explained to him the situation, so to deduce that merely from my face is quite impressive.

“Well, the truth is I unexpectedly made friends with them, and their hair made me a bit envious.” I half-lie. I guess I can call them friends, by now. - We agree, a well-maintained pomp is quite impressive ! Though I already tell you, I won’t be able to make one as impressive as theirs with your amount of hair. I’ll actually make one of a different type, an Elephant’s Trunk, if it doesn’t bother you. - Oh, okay. Well, I’m here to learn, so I won’t be picky. - Glad to be in agreement.” He says deferentially, before going on another subject. “But yeah, these two, Kowa and Soiri, they’re really good guys, if you go beyond their edginess. I can understand how you accidentally made friends with them. - Yeah, Ryuunosuke is very considerate, while Tsutomu is always in a good mood. They’re both refreshing in their own way.” I agree with him. - Already on first name basis ! Though they’re quick to ask to use their first name, I only continue using their surname because they’re my clients. - Yes, I guess that makes sense.”

Our discussion continues a while, as the barber starts applying products in my hair. He then combs it in the back in a ducktail, before combing the top into curls that rise to the center, combining in the front to a tube-like shape that is so reminiscent of anime it makes me smile. He then sprays more product, fixes a few details, and tells me a bit how to reproduce this style. He talks about using grease to comb and hairspray to keep it in place, as well as techniques to get the pompadour looking correct.

After a while of discussing, and me buying the necessary products, I go out of the shop with my great hairstyle, and see Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu waiting for me.

“It looks sooo great, kouhai ! I’m glad I took you here !” Exclaims Tsutomu, approaching me in a very familiar fashion. - It suits you a lot.” Agrees Ryuunosuke, nodding at the same time. - If you want any tip, don’t hesitate to ask us ! Once, I had this style, so I know exactly how to make it !”

And there goes Tsutomu rambling about all the hairstyles he’s tried in all his experimenting, and all the styles he may also try out one day. But I fully agree, it really feels like a piece of the puzzle has just been found. It immediately puts me more at ease, and although I know I’m not there yet, I know that now I can breathe.

“You know what ?” Suddenly asks Tsutomu. “You guys have class tomorrow ? - Only the afternoon.” States Ryuunosuke. - Uh… I…” I check my phone to see my agenda, and find it empty for tomorrow. “I don’t, surprisingly. - Well, why not go sleep over at my place ?”

I look at him surprised, not having anticipated this turn of events. It would be great, but… I don’t have any of my things, nor do I have anything to wear, I don’t know whether I need to check stuff at my flat, and…

Fuck ! This makes me stress so much ! I need something in my mouth ! I take out a lollipop in front of the guys, who look at me weirdly. What, haven’t they seen anyone liking sweets ? But yeah, actually, why not. I should take a cue out of Tsutomu and let go. If it’s fun, I should do it. Yeah, that seems way better.

“Seems good.” I answer. - Then we’re all set ! Let’s gooooo !” Celebrated Tsutomu.

It seems Ryuunosuke answered while I was considering. I hope I wasn’t too weird… NO ! Not weird, let’s ban this word from my dictionary !

Tsutomu leads us through streets and subway lines into a small flat, bigger than mine but not by much. However, just looking inside gives a good idea of who he is, as there are loads of colorful posters on the wall, an electric guitar – or bass, I don’t know the difference – and otherwise a lot of untidied clutter. Once inside, we hang out, have long conversations in which I participate eagerly, we dine – if instant ramen can be called a dinner – and all together have good fun.

When night falls, we get the futons out and place them aligned in the center of the tatami floor, with me in the middle – cozy ! Ryuunosuke and Tsutomu both take some kind of cap that looks like a plastic bag that they put around their hair. They urge me to do the same, but I refuse. I don’t want to sleep with a hat on. However, I do undress into my underwear, surprising both of them by my boldness -hey, that’s how I sleep ! – before I enter my futon to sleep.

When I wake up, I notice that the futon to my right is empty. After stretching a bit, I rise up and look around. On the futon to my left, Tsutomu is still sleeping quite deeply, or at least I assume so looking at his weird position. The blinds are half-opened, and looking behind me, I see Ryuunosuke taking his breakfast on the short table.

I go to stand up and sit in front of him. Weirdly enough, there seem to be a white box right next to his miso soup, I wonder what it is about… But as he finishes eating his bread, he hails me, taking on a quiet voice :

“Hey, kouhai. Slept well ? - Yeah, a lot easier than the last few days.” I answer, making him smile. - I’m glad you decided to come back. Even back when we went to see Kishidan I felt you were quite a good guy. - Thank you. I must admit I had my reservations, but you were so nice I couldn’t stay angry for long. Even if I like you better due to that weird cigarette thing. - Yeah.” He grimaces a bit. “I hope at least that you learned to be more considerate with this whole debacle. - I can’t say if I learned it, but… I’m really sorry about what I did to you three back then. No matter how I put it, I was in the wrong, and made you feel unwelcome somewhere you had all rights to be.”

He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I forgive you. I know you weren’t doing it out of malice, but since you now apologized, I have no reason to hold any grudge. - Thank you very much…”

His smile is so tender, I can’t help but reciprocate it. He may feel quite formal, and not show a lot of emotion apart from the occasional sarcasm, I can feel that he is true to himself. His humility isn’t for show, it’s something I believe he truly is. That’s a quality I hope to possess one day, even if it’s only to stay true to myself and not mire myself in politeness.

“By the way, Hitoshi came here, earlier. I told him that we were staying at Tsutomu’s because he had something he had to drop off to you, but he had to work so he couldn’t stay.”

He gave me the small white box, which opened into a pack of cigarettes. Why did he give that to me ? I… I don’t smoke ! I don’t want to ! It’s useless to me !

“I know you’re not very fussed about getting that. Trust me, I was also skeptical. But don’t you have a craving for something to go in your mouth, sometimes ? - Uh… n-no ! Of course, not !” I lie, because of course it wouldn’t be cigarettes I’m craving for… right ? - You know, I saw you take out a lollipop. You also have a few in your pocket. You can’t lie to me.”

Seeing his uncompromising glare, I sighed. I don’t like to admit it, but he might be correct. Cigarettes might be what I’ve actually been craving for… unfortunately.

“Yeah. Since the beginning. I need something in my mouth. - Well, Hitoshi told me that the fact your change started with the smoke, it made you crave the smell, and that the fact that the contents of the change are based on Hitoshi, who’s quite the smoker, it means that you’re now very likely a smoker.”

I consider the cigarettes, not knowing whether it’s a trick or the actual last piece of the puzzle. I do know that it’s hard to ever come back from smoking, so even if it was a wrong guess, I’d now have a smoking problem. But on the other hand, I do crave for something in my mouth, and nothing has ever seemed as convincing as this… Ryuunosuke opens to me the door to the balcony, and hands me a lighter. I guess he is convinced… I mean, why would he not, the creator of the drug that made me change told him that smoking would be the missing piece ! But I still stand somewhat unconvinced…

… Eh, what did I say before ? That I shouldn’t overthink, and should do things I want to do.

So I take him in his invitation and go to the balcony, putting one of the cigarettes in my mouth. Oh god, it already feels good ! It’s the right size, the right texture, the right resistance… I didn’t want any of those crappy lollipops, I really wanted a cigarette !

Then, I light it up, and take my first drag…

And it’s heavenly ! I’m for the first time since the beginning of my misadventures feeling alright ! Not nervous, not anxious, just fine !

I take other drags, and this feeling of intense pleasure continues. Yes, I confirm, smoking was the missing piece. And it feels so good. This wonderful sensation of everything falling into place into a complete apotheosisis absolutely worth all the dangers and problems it comes with.

Suddenly, there’s some noise inside. I’d look inside, but I don’t want to trouble Tsutomu by stinking his house with smoke odor – even though it smells so good now, I still remember a time when I’d shy away from it.

“Oh, Hitoshi’s here ?” Asks Tsutomu’s groggy voice. “I’d recognize this smell anytime… - No, he came in earlier but he’s not the one smoking.” Answered calmly Ryuunosuke. - Huh ? Eh…” I hear some loud steps, likely Tsutomu trying to find the source of the smell. “Oh, kouhai, what are you doing here ? You’re already up ? - Yup.” I answer casually. “By the way, thanks for all your help, Tsutomu. And sorry for the first time we met. - Well, you’re welcome ! I’m glad we got to meet !” I hear him come closer. “Wait… the smell… is it coming from you !?” He notices, very surprised. - Yeah. I needed a smoke.”

He shuffles his way to the balcony, so I can see his very confused face. It’s fun to see him look like that.

“Wait, since when do you smoke ? - Since right now. - Uh… okay… and where are the cigarettes from ? - From… er, sorry, I don’t know his surname. From Hitoshi. - Oh, it explains all.”

It’s funny to hear him being shut up like that, he usually doesn’t ever stop talking ! But it might be the fact that it’s early morning, I myself am still quite drowsy. I finish peacefully my smoke while I hear Tsutomu preparing his breakfast in the back. He also asks what I like to eat, and I tell him I prefer rice.

Once everything is cooked up, and my cigarette was extinguished, I took place at the table, and conversations once again spring up. This time, I feel so much more at ease, I think I finally found what clicked for me. I look at them both. I’m glad to have found them, even if it meant losing myself in the process, because I’m sure the new me is infinitely better than the old.

“Thank you both for being here for me.” I suddenly thank them. “It… really meant a lot, even if I was confrontational back then.”

They smile at me.

“Don’t worry about it ! We’re bros, now !” Answers Tsutomu. - Yes, and friends are for life.” Acquiesces Ryuunosuke.

One day, you may be wandering the streets of Tokyo, and find people dressed in a 70 year-old style coming from the United States. That day, you may be meeting the 令和リーゼント (Reiwa rīzento), a small group of four artistic people who like to draw, paint, sing and play. Even though I would have never had imagined even holding a conversation with them, circumstances made me join them, and I couldn’t be happier. Life is too bleak when you can’t share it with friends.

And if you ever find yourself lonely in that part of town…

… just know that two red cigarettes still stand unused.

================================================

If I had one nickle for each time I write a story set in Japan and it devolves into a 6000+ words odyssey that involves tons of research, I’d have two nickles, which is not a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Just so you know : the Bōsōzoku (暴走族) were youth biker gangs from the 80s who were known for public disorder and otherwise gang violence, and took inspiration from American greasers for their style. Today, there’s not a lot of them left and they aren’t seen as a danger anymore, but their style was captured in pop culture, and is one of the go-to style for youth delinquents in anime (cf. Yusuke Urameshi and Kazuma Kuwabara in Yū Yū Hakusho and the whole of Jojo’s Adventure’s cast, really). This style has also found its way in Chinese pop culture, though the original reference is fully lost over there.

Hope you found this interesting ! ^^

[ameenvie]

Last Christmas - Jamie Tartt x fem!reader

masterlist | ao3 | ko-fi | fic recs

"Now I know what a fool I've been, but if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again"

@emeraldsandelderberries asked: jaime x reader christmas request :) maybe a second chance romance a la “last christmas” by wham! ? Word count: 4.3k Warnings: none really! I guess anxiety and panic attacks if you squint, but not really Tags: fluff, second chance, christmas, drama, hurt/comfort A/N: This request was soooooooo sweet!!! AH I LOVED IT, I'm so sorry it's this late! 😭 IT might be a bit more dramatic/moody than you've wanted but I really hope you like it! ❤❤

Christmastime in London was always special to you. You loved how the storefronts all dressed up into colourful decorations and cheerful lights, how the smell of warm cookies filled the air as you passed your favourite bakery on your way to work. Excitement and restlessness filled people’s hearts as they were waiting for a little break at the end of the year, a time of reflection and hope. And honestly you could’ve used a fresh start.

Work was hectic in the office before at the end of the year, but you always pushed through by thinking of the holidays approaching faster day by day. The last weeks before Christmas were all about secret Santas and Christmas gatherings at the office as well.

You were having lunch in the small kitchen at work when your phone lit up with your best friend’s name. She usually doesn’t call, so you answered suspiciously.

“I have a huge favour to ask” she said quickly without even saying hello. You put your face into your palm as you braced yourself for what was about to come and even like that you were shocked at her next words. “I need you to come to the company Christmas Party with me.”

“You what?” you asked, trying to conceal the sudden anger in your voice that was bubbling up inside you. It wasn’t like you to get angry easily, especially not on her, but this time it came so out of the blue. Why would she ask that?

“I know babes, I’m so sorry I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t life or death!”

“How can a Christmas party be life or death?” you asked cynically, drumming your fingers on the table next to your lunch. You’ve lost all your appetite.

“I will die if you won’t come with me, that’s how” she joked, trying to lighten your mood.

“You’re so dramatic” you chuckled, but you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Go on.”

“Look, I don’t want to spend all my evening alone with my coworkers and their families and my rich boss, and insufferable football players!” she started. “You know this is not like a few-drinks-in-the-office kind of party, it’s full bling in a fancy hotel and shitton of food and booze!” you could basically see her waving her hand around while talking. “I thought just the two of us could hang out, get hammered and judge others. What do you say?” You rolled your eyes. She knew this was a compelling offer, but not compelling enough. Not when you could risk running into him.

“Okay, but!” You started and held up a finger like she could see it through the phone. “I have the right to leave at any time I want. Deal?” You heard her let out an annoyed groan at the other end of the line.

“Fine, whatever. I know you’ll love it.”

“I sure will. What do I wear?”

“Go all out babe. I’ll meet you tomorrow at 6. Love yous!” She hung up the call and you placed your phone on the table and just stared at it for a moment.

Your best friend was working at Richmond FC. The football club whose every match you’ve seen since you remember, up until last year. It was your family’s team. Now thanks to Jamie Tartt, you couldn’t even think of the name Richmond. And now your friend wants you to go back there, all dressed up, to an event where you could possibly – or even most likely – meet him and have to talk to him. Have to smile at him like he didn’t break your heart. Like you didn’t cry about him for months after he left.

But you weren’t that girl anymore, were you? Time has passed, you moved on, right? You didn’t cry about him anymore. But the twisting feeling in your gut when you thought about him, when someone mentioned him or even the team, when you saw ads with him told you otherwise. Told you that you in fact, have not moved on. But he doesn’t have to know that.

The walk on the way home was chilly and this time you couldn’t admire the flickering Christmas lights around you on the street, nor the sweet smell of cookies coming from the bakery. Your mind was filled with the thought of him, and the possibility of seeing him again. The thought of your friend being an asshole also crossed your mind a few times, but you knew she didn’t mean any harm. For all she knew you were over Jamie. And you were convinced of that too, but the squeezing feeling in your chest told you otherwise. You didn’t listen though. You didn’t care about him. You didn’t.

You told that to yourself the next day as you looked for that beautiful dress in your wardrobe that you might or might not wanted to wear to impress him. To make him feel like an idiot for throwing you away. You didn’t care about him. As you did your makeup a little more elegant than usual. You didn’t care about him. As you did the finishing touches on your hair. You didn’t care about him.

You picked up your purse and locked the door when you saw your friend calling, meaning she was there to pick you up with a cab. The cold air made you shiver a little and you were thankful for the ride. Wintertime was really not made for having these parties. A thin layer of snow covered the streets and the rooftops, the streetlights painting it a warm hue of gold. You let out a relieved sigh, suddenly you felt calm from the peaceful sight. You hopped in the cab and closed the door. Your friend let out an audible gasp as she looked at you.

“You look fucking fit, girl!” she squealed before she hugged you. You scoffed and chuckled before pulling away.

“Thanks, I guess” you smiled, heat crawling to your ears. Your friend gave the address of the venue to the cab driver, and you were off into the night.

“You really did go all the way, huh?”

“Your wish is my command!” you smiled at her, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“I got you something” she said and started to rummage through her small purse before she pulled out a small bottle of liquor. You laughed.

“Aren’t we going to a party with unlimited free booze?”

“Wanted to have a moment for just the two of us. No offense” she chuckled and looked at the cab driver who smiled back at her. “Thanks for being here.”

“My pleasure” you replied and took a sip out of the bottle. You felt the liquid burn your throat before you handed it to her. Truth be told, you felt alright. Together with your best friend, dressed to the nines, having a fun night out. Who cares about Jamie Tartt?

When you stepped inside the giant ballroom, your breath got caught in your throat. You’ve been to fancy places before – mostly with Jamie -, but nothing of such magnitude. The room was framed by insanely tall walls with red velvet covering, and shiny accents. Christmas ornaments and decorations hung from the ceiling next to the chandeliers, and there was a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner, next to the stage where the band played soft jazz music. Round tables occupied half of the room in a neatly organised pattern, the other half was the dancefloor.

Kind men took your coat, and you clutched your purse to try to calm your nerves. You felt like you didn’t belong, you stuck out like a sore thumb among these gorgeous and rich people. You felt your friend’s hand squeeze your own as she led you further into the room.

“It’s gonna be fine. We’re eating, getting wasted, dancing then going home, ‘kay?”

“Okay” you breathed. You didn’t dare to look around the room in case you recognised someone. Him.

The two of you made a beeline towards the bar and ordered your favourite shot that you drank immediately. You hoped it would calm your nerves a little.

“Easy girl, the night is still young!”

“That’s especially why I’m drinking” you chuckled. You felt a tap on your shoulder and your heart dropped to your stomach, blood freezing in your veins. That was until you’ve turned and saw Sam’s face and his thousand-watt smile.

“I knew it was you! It’s so good to see you!” he cheered, his accented voice ringing in your ear as he hugged you.

“Sam, oh my God! Look at you, you look amazing!” you answered and rested your hand on his arms. “How you’ve been?”

“Good, good! We have a lot to catch up on, you should write sometimes y’know!” Fuck.

“I know, I’m sorry.” A frown settled on your face, and he immediately tried to lighten the mood.

“Just messing with you. But hey, make sure to come say hi to the others later, okay?” he said, and he gestured to the other side of the room, and your gaze instinctively followed. Mistake.

There he was, in all his glory, as tall and handsome as ever. His hair was different, a bit longer and had highlights in it. It really suited him. He wore a slightly unbuttoned shirt and had its sleeves rolled up, his jacket discarded on a nearby chair.

You’ve felt like throwing up, the content of your stomach making somersaults nonstop. Yet you smiled like nothing happened and nodded at Sam. Your friend who you haven’t spoken to in months because he reminded you of Jamie. What an asshole move. And he was so kind he just forgave you.

“We sure will” you answered and squeezed his arm before you let go. And as he turned you sneaked another peek in Jamie’s direction. You felt lightheaded as his gaze caught yours and you looked away in a blink of an eye, turning your back at him.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, look, we can just leave” your friend whispered as she looked at you concerned, but you just shook your head.

“I’m fine, really. When is dinner again?”

“In like half an hour” she replied.

“Mint, I’ll catch my breath outside and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s fine, really” you protested. “It’ll be just a minute, promise.”

“Fine” she sighed as she rubbed your arms. “But just a word and we’ll be out of here!” You nodded and headed towards the door that led to the back garden. Your steps were quick, and you had your head low to avoid anyone stopping you in your track. But you felt like your heels were too loud, that everyone was looking at you, that he was looking at you. In reality, only one of those was true.

As you opened the door, the cold air bit into your skin as you stepped outside. The garden was gigantic, and the grass was covered in a thin layer of snow. There were gravel paths going around in twisty patterns curving around shrubbery and statues.

To your surprise there were standing tables outside accompanied by tall heaters. You weren’t cold but you knew it was just temporary, so you took a beeline towards one of the heaters and stood next to the table under it. It was kind of magical, hearing only the distant music from the ballroom and nothing else, watching the snow-covered garden. You felt your heartbeat slow down and anxious thoughts leaving your head.

You heard footsteps approaching and you turned towards them with a smile, thinking it was Sam or your best friend. Of course, that was not the case. He took his jacket back on, but the top buttons on his shirt were still undone. He looked at you with a shy smile.

“I knew I saw you” he said, his hands in his pockets. You knew he was fiddling with them like he always did. You didn’t reply and you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or the anger. You stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Me neither” you replied, and your voice was colder than you thought it would be. It was perfect. He just couldn't see how he ruined you. He just couldn't.

“I can leave if you want?” he said, but it was almost like a question. A question you didn’t really know the answer for. Did you want him to leave? Or were you just over the moon that he was there, standing in front of you, with a heavy heart and a shy smile? You kind of never wanted that moment to end. You felt pathetic and you looked away from him, which he took as a cue to leave. “It’s alright. It was nice seeing you. You look beautiful.” What an asshole. What right does he have to call you that?

He turned his back on you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at your shoes. The fancy shoes that you might or might not picked out to impress him. You did get what you wanted didn’t you? He did call you beautiful. So why was it making you so angry?

“I just” he hesitated before continuing. “Wanted to say I’m sorry. Truly.” You looked up at him. His body was halfway turned from you, and he looked back, head hung low and a few strands of his hair fell into his eyes. Your ears were ringing as your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I was a royal prick. And you-“ he scratched his throat. “You deserved better. And you deserve better than me ruining your night, so I’ll leave you be. Sorry. Truly, it was nice seeing you.” he said and turned away. You felt like your mouth acted on its own as you called out after him. His gaze snapped back and met yours.

“Would you-“ you paused. “Like to stay a bit?” You could see his shoulders relax as he let out a breath he was holding. A smile found its way past his lips as he stepped closer to you under the heater.

“I’m glad you asked because I started to freeze my arse off” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But he was still very aware of his situation.

“Yeah, why can’t these company parties be held in the summer? You get all dressed up only to freeze your tits off” you smiled back at him. He was leaning against the table as he looked at you. It somehow felt right, being there with him.

“Well, some of us are more dressed up than others” he grinned as his eyes wandered up and down on your body. You pretended you didn’t see it, but the rising heat in your body said otherwise.

“I know, Rebecca looks insanely good tonight” you said to deflect the compliment.

“Yeah, she’s really good at this glam thing. Kinda jealous of her.” You cocked your eyebrow at him, but you didn’t say a word. Signalling him to go on. “Most of the times I just can’t wait to bolt at these events.”

“Why don’t you? Are you on the clock or something?” you asked, clutching your purse for dear life. The more reasonable part of your brain said you should just tell him to piss off. But you didn’t.

“Nah” he shrugged. “I just like the company a bit more than usual.”

You felt your heart flutter at the compliment. Then you immediately felt sadness. Then anger.

“Jamie, why on earth are you here?”

“Umm, it’s a company Christmas party?” he answered with a question, feigning ignorance.

“I meant here. And you know that. If you really would've liked my company, you probably wouldn't have dumped me to fuck around” you snapped at him and straightened your back, preparing to leave him. “Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

You turned on your heels and headed towards the main building. Now that you’ve stepped away from the heater the cold winter air crawled against your skin once more, tears prickling your eyes. You were stupid for coming here.

You picked up your pace before you felt a warm hand grip your wrist. You felt tired. You felt like you had no energy to do this right now.

“Please, love. Just give me a chance.”

“A chance for what, Jamie? To break my heart again?” you asked in a choked voice from holding the tears at bay. He let go of you and ran his hands through his hair. You hated how you knew he always did that when he was nervous. All this knowledge of him, all that love for him. What were you supposed to do with them now?

“What can I do to make it right? I’ll do anything.”

“Stop making a fool out of me. What do you want? A good nostalgia lay? A charity one, because it’s Christmas?” You were so angry at him. If all these were true, why did he just dump you? Say all those things he said. But at the same time, you wanted this to be true. But you weren’t ready for another heartbreak.

“Piss off, I’ve cried enough because of you already.” You turned your back on him again and stormed off. You saw your friend's silhouette at the door, and you felt relieved.

“I’m so sorry babes, I’ll call a cab, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s fine. I won’t give him the satisfaction of leaving” you let out a shaky breath and hugged your friend.

“What did he want anyway?”

“He said” you started but your voice choked up. “He said he was sorry. That he wanted to make it right.”

“You’re kidding. What did you say?”

“I told him to piss off, as you can see” you answered and let out a dry laugh.

“I can see that, but why?” she asked, and you snapped your gaze at her.

“What do you mean why? Don’t you remember he broke up with me to chase models instead?”

“But maybe he does want to make it right… and you love-“ she said but you broke her off.

“I don’t. Please can we just drop this? Let’s have dinner, what do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Dinner was served by elegant waiters, all different kinds of soups, meats, salads, whatever you could’ve wished for. And fortunately, they didn’t hesitate to bring you drinks as well.

“No way!” you laughed at another guy who was sitting at your table. He was your friend’s coworker, or something like that. You actually had a really great time since the dinner started. These people were nice and funny, and took your mind off of Jamie for a bit. That was all you could’ve asked for.

“It’s nice to meet finally meet you guys in person, I’ve heard so much about you I feel like I’ve known you for ages!”

“Only good I hope!” another girl, Jenna chimed in and chuckled while your friend just rolled her eyes to hide her awkwardness. Mixing friend groups was always a stressful experience for her. Suddenly Jenna whispered something to the person who was sitting next to her – you remembered her name being Ellie.

“Yeah, for sure” Ellie said, covering her mouth while laughing.

“C’mon girls, didn’t they tell you it’s rude to whisper when you have company? Spill it!” your friend whined as she took another sip from her drink. Jenna rolled her eyes playfully before she leaned closer to the two of you.

“We were just talking about how shaggable some of our footballers are” she giggled, and you choked on your drink, what earned you a few weird looks.

“I’m sorry, I just tried to laugh and swallow at the same time” you replied quickly. During your exchange the wait staff started to clear your tables as the dinner was about to end, leaving place for the music, dancing, and drinking.

“Or maybe you fancy the gaffer? No shame in that he’s pretty fit himself” Ellie continued before Jenna cut her off.

“You bet he is. And he’s such a gentleman, I’ve ran into him at the cafeteria once. Maybe even too much of a gentleman.” She gave a knowing look before she chuckled. You knew this was going to be bad.

“C’mon girls, stop it! Anybody can hear you!” your friend tried to stop the situation from getting worse, but it was of no use.

“So, new girl, what do you say? Do you have a favourite guy on the team?” Jenna rested her head in her hands as she was looking at you, batting her eyelashes. She didn’t mean no harm; she had no way of knowing that you were in fact an ex-girlfriend of one of them.

“You know what, I’m kind of a Roy Kent girl myself” you said, and your friend snorted next to you, almost spitting her drink. You flashed a huge smile at her before clinking your glass against hers. The rest of the girls made approving noises before they got interrupted.

“That kinda hurts” his voice pierced your ears, and your heart went into overdrive. Of course. You turned towards him, and you swore your eyes shot daggers at him. He had one of his hands held out towards you, inviting you to take it. “Spare me a dance?”

You already drank enough to consider his offer. You felt everyone’s eyes on you and for a second you didn’t care.

“Sure” you replied in a low voice as you stood up. You heard a gasp from behind you, but you weren’t sure who it came from. You took Jamie’s hand as he led you towards the dancefloor. You heard your friend say “I told you anyone could hear it!” in the background and you smiled.

After you reached the centre of the dancefloor, he spun you around and put one of his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t look him in the eye, but scanned the room for anything else to focus on. The band was playing a slow song and couples started to flock to the floor next to you. You saw Ted asking Rebecca for a dance and even your friend stood up and made her way to the floor with someone. You felt Jamie trying to be sneaky and pulling you closer into him with every sway, but you didn’t say anything.

“Do you remember when you taught me how to dance?” he asked, and you heard the smile in his voice. You did remember.

“Of course” you said, barely audible.

“We moved the couch to make space. And even then, I hit my foot into it.” He spun you around to the rhythm of the music, then pulled you closer than before. And you let him, as you rested your head next to his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment as you closed your eyes. Like you were in your living room again, like he didn’t break your heart.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” he asked abruptly.

“It’s not-“ you hesitated. “It’s not that I can’t forgive you.” You knew you could forgive him in a second, because you loved him. You loved him so much, not a day went by without you missing him.

“What is it then?”

“I just don’t want to be hurt again. I know you just take whatever you want and when you’re bored you just toss it aside.” You fought your tears as you buried your face into his chest.

“I’m not that person anymore, love” he said and stopped the two of you, lifting your chin up so your gaze met his. “I promise.”

“Why should I believe you? You promised before you’d never leave me and then you tossed me aside. Made me feel worthless.”

“Fuck” he exhaled, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Can we talk somewhere else? Can’t hear my own thoughts.” You didn’t reply just nodded before he took your hands and led you outside to the same spot you’ve talked earlier. Tears were prickling the corner of your eyes as you followed him, looking down at your joint hands. He stood under the heater before he turned to you and placed both his hands on the side of your face.

“Look. I was a major prick, I know that.” He searched your face as he spoke. “But I promise, I’ve changed. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, I was an asshole. I know that now” he paused.

“But I-“ he started then he stopped, his eyes frantically scanning your face.

Don’t say it.

“I just-“

Don’t say it.

“Fuck, I-“

Just say it!

“I love you.” You let out a relieved sigh as you closed your eyes. He pulled you closer as he planted a kiss on your lips, shy and chaste. Your heart was stammering against your ribcage, and you felt like it was your first kiss ever.

“I love you too” you whispered as warm tears rolled down your cheeks, contrasting the cold air. He kissed you again, this time braver, and he poured his heart and soul into it as he pulled you in with his hand on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your heart felt like a thousand suns exploded inside it.

“Please let me make it right.”

“Just make sure you won’t make a fool out of me again for saying yes to this, okay?”

“I promise” he said before he kissed you again. “But I have another question.”

“Yes?” you asked and raised your eyebrow.

“Are you really a Roy Kent girl?” You laughed at how real the concern was on his face as he looked at you with his puppy eyes.

“No, actually I’m a huge Jamie Tartt girl, have you heard of him?” you grinned as you caressed his face.

“Huh, sounds like he’s a lucky fella” he smiled before he leaned in for another kiss. Maybe it wasn’t so bad your friend invited you after all.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating negan

♡ fandoms; The Walking Dead

♡ characters; Negan Smith

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; in case anyone forgot i’m technically not a dedicated slasher blog

i put this in sections so i didn’t have to make more than one post lol . also these take place while he’s still the ruler of the saviors. i’ve been obsessed since his first episode oh my god that’s eight years of hyperfixation so that’s usually where my brain goes plot- wise

i’m thinking Billy Butcher is up next? lmk who else we wanna see, Garcia Flynn from Timeless is probably too niche? but i love him so so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/PDA

> negan is an affectionate person

> with his wives it’s just for show- they’re hot, and he wants all his followers jealous of his lifestyle

> but with you, it’s different

> his wives don’t like him, per-se. he’s convenient to be married to and easy on the eyes, but they’re cold to him

> and he knows why, he doesn’t really give a shit. especially now that he has you.

> you may not be his spouse- you’re sure as fuck not letting him call you that without a ring- but he’s even more physical with you

> standing by him? hand on your back. sitting? you’re on his lap. look cold? he gives you his jacket and keeps you tucked under his arm

> “i just like takin’ care of you darlin’”

> and he loves kissing you in front of others- from little pecks to long, lingering kisses that makes other people look away

> he seems possessive, and he doesn’t mind people pointing it out

> it’s not that he doesn’t trust you- it’s never that

> he trusts most of his men too…maybe not simon. because simon loves staring at your ass

> but he’s proud. he’s proud you’re his, and he’s yours, and that he gets to show you off

> and like hell he ever lets anyone forget it

> alone he acts like keeping his hands off you is impossible

> he smacks your ass any time you lean over, pulls you into big bear hugs from behind and randomly pick you up

> he doesn’t ever want you to doubt his feelings for you, and physically is the easiest way for him to show it

> he’s very sexual, big shocker

> but his favorite kisses are sleepy kisses

> you wait late into the night when he’s due home from terrorizing his territories

> some part of you is afraid one day he won’t come home- so you always wait

> you’ll be exhausted, rubbing your eyes and yawning and usually wrapped up in a blanket

> but no matter how long he takes directing his men and double checking inventory and dealing with the dead

> “hey there, baby doll”

> you always run straight into his arms and bury your face in his chest. he’ll laugh and pick you up, kissing you gently before he carries you to bed

> most times he falls asleep on top of the covers with you, eager for the morning when he can make it up to you for being gone so long

II. Sharing a bed

> negan isn’t used to sharing a bed anymore

> the wives have their own rooms just down the hall, and so do you

> no reason for him not to give you at least a little space

> and having a room is the height of luxury in the sanctuary anyways. it’s a perk of dating the boss

> but you don’t know how to tell him you do want to share a bed, even though you’re barely apart when you’re awake

> so you just…don’t. you assume it’s a boundary he wants to keep and don’t mention it

> until the night terrors start up again

> you’ve seen a lot of people die a lot of different ways. most of them people you cared a lot about

> the memories always seem to come back in your dreams no matter how far back you push them

> when you’re woken up by one in the middle of a harsh storm, it’s just a bit too much

> you just can’t stop crying, and it’s loud and you need held. you need him.

> you creep as quietly as you can down the hall, and you hesitate at the door until the thunder crashes again

> when you stumble in he sits up fast with a knife in his fist

> then he gives a slightly annoyed sigh in recognition, relaxing

> “the hell are you doing?”

> “i just- um-“

> you can tell he notices the wobble in your voice and opens his arms up without another smart remark

> “hey, hey, i’ve gotcha..”

> he doesn’t ask questions- you don’t cry for nothing. and he gets nightmares too

> falling asleep in his arms feels natural…so natural it becomes a habit

> and he sleeps better with you too, curled around you and holding you so tight you think he might be worried you’ll disappear

> it’s less than a week before you stop using your bed altogether

III. Let’s get kinky

> he’s happy in pretty much any dominant role, whatever you call him is good enough for him- daddy, sir, master, etc

> and he likes when you call him whatever it is in front of his men

> the only chance of getting your dick/strap in him is if he power bottoms. but 95 percent of the time? you’re receiving and it’s big

> he likes being risky. he’ll take you out to visit settlements just to have an excuse to stop and fuck you in the car

> or even in a house there, just a room over from his men and gagging you with his fingers so you don’t get caught

> not that he’ll care if they catch you anyways

> he has a nice big office- half of the reason he uses it is so he can have you on his lap as a cockwarmer while he reads or looks over inventory numbers

> the other half is so you can suck his dick under the desk while he talks to simon or dwight

> (simon is a raging pervert so he definitely knows, too)

> he loves fucking your face, watching you get all teary eyed and drooling all over yourself from taking his massive cock

> “oh look at the fuckin’ mess you’re making!”

> he’s generous though- he loves reciprocating oral

> and he loves overstimulating you too- whether that’s by edging you for hours or just making you cum again and again and again

> he loves taking you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress and gripping your hips so hard they bruise

> but he also loves when you ride him slow, gasping quietly as he watches you fall apart completely for him

[arahusk]

Don't Question a Good Thing, Keep Playing That Jazz Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk, Niffty Words: 5,892 Ao3: [here] For @radiotrioweek! The trio go out to a jazz lounge. Chaos ensues.

-

Hands in his pockets, Husk tried to watch where he stepped. Bits of broken glass, a few rusty nails, and old cigarette butts littered the sidewalk, but he swerved around them almost in reflex. He didn’t think such a low run area would be where Alastor would spend his time. Then again, his boss thought feasting on carcasses was high-dining.

But he shouldn’t have worried. Niffty was doing a bang-up job at being the sweeper for tonight.

“Clean, clean, clean! Watch your toes!” She hummed as she got out her broom from one of her many hidden pockets and swept away the glass, the cigarettes, and even some severed fingers (Husk won’t ask about that) from the pathway with fast-paced energy. She was kind enough to do it for Husk and his bare feet, but he knew who she really did it for.

“A jazz lounge all the way here?” Husk asked his boss. He shook his head. “I’ve been around this area before. This place is a dump.”

With Niffty more or less in the lead, Husk was left walking just slightly behind Alastor. His boss seemed to be in a good mood, more or less. But after recently teaming up with the Princess of Hell, Husk supposed it would make anyone feel a little like they were on cloud nine.

Especially so soon after one appeared from their seven-year stint from who knows where.

“Husker, if you know of any good spots for a good wind down, I’d be delighted to hear it!” A little flourish of a twirl with his cane, and once they turned a corner passed an abandoned liquor store, Husk was met with a nondescript door, wedged into the concrete wall, as if the stone were ready to smash it apart. “But you should know that the best spots are always hidden.”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I remember the speakeasies, but prohibition days are a very old memory for me.”

Niffty sweeped and even started mopping, both cleaning tools in each hand, until she bumped against the door. Her eye widened, along with her grin. “Ooo, is there a big mess past here?”

Alastor chuckled, giving the girl a pat on her head. “Perhaps once we’re through with it!”

Husk already had a feeling how this whole outing was about to go.

The sky was a deep red, giving the entire area a gloomy atmosphere reminiscent of old horror films Husk just barely recalled, where only demonic rats with multiple eyes skittered about the ground. Niffty would have pounced for them were it not for Alastor quickly gathering her by the scruff of her neck and promptly putting her down by his side. In the same motion, he used his other hand which held his cane to knock on the door.

A razor-thin eyehole slid open, and with it, a razor-thin glowing eye appeared, pupil dilated so greatly it was like an ink stroke over yellow. “Hey, password? You got it?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Alastor checked over his nails as if they hadn’t been soaking in blood earlier that day. “I’m an old friend of the proprietor! Why, the slugger has been asking for my patronage to get his lounge going! How’s his wife doing by the way? Last I heard, it’s been a bit of a swing and a miss! But I don’t know what he expected from marrying a gal from Cannibal Town. Decapitation is all the rage there these days!”

The filtered laughter played around him, sounding even more eerie with the alleyway acoustics. The eye behind the door blinked several times.

“... That’s not the password.”

“Of course not! I was just making a little gab! Not to your taste?”

“Listen, freak. No password, no entry! Now go away and take your—” A quick glancing around before they finally found Niffty smiling right beside Alastor. “Your wife and your—” Another glance that then settled on Husk. “...Wait, don’t I know you?”

Husk did a quick catalogue in his mind and hoped to fuck this wasn’t another clown he owed an IOU to. “No.”

“Ha!” Alastor interrupted like a static burst through the speakers. “Very amusing, riveting, actually. But you see…”

Instant darkness, one that only left Husk and Niffty themselves visible, while a mass of writing shadows hovered over the eyehole, where that eye was now so wide it covered the entire opening. Tendrils stabbed right through the wood, and corrupted feed made Husk’s ears lean back in irritation.

“You should have just opened the door.”

While Niffty watched in awe, Husk pressed two fingers near the bridge of his nose. “This again now…?”

The sinner screeched from behind the door and, whether it was instinct or just an odd loyalty to his job, slammed shut the eyehole before what Husk hoped meant the guy was running off. Alastor’s tendrils ripped the door right off the hinges, taking a few stone blocks with it, all while the feedback continued to blare. The door was then tossed like a banana peel behind them, which was then accompanied by what sounded like a highway accident from the nearby road.

With the entrance effectively wrecked, the sinner was cowering to the side of the little room he was in. His own stubs that were supposed to be horns looked weak compared to the array of antlers that Alastor now carried on his head. 

“Sorry, chum, but I am in a bit of a rush. You’ve also been quite rude to me and my entourage.” A little creak of his neck to the side, and Alastor swerved past the entrance, limbs elongating, antlers stretching further, a sleep paralysis demon brought to life. “And I haven’t had dinner yet.”

With a whimper, the sinner demon gestured towards the stairs near the back of the room. “The club is there! Just don’t eat me! I didn’t know you were the Radio Demon, okay!?”

And just as quickly, the antlers receded, and Alastor was cracking his neck again a bit to look down at the sinner with his professional grin. “Oh, silly me. Did I forget to introduce myself? I assure you, that was a bit of a faux pas on my part. Thank you for being quite understanding!”

Tucking his cane under his arm, Alastor waved to both Husk and Niffty who still stood outside. “Come on! It’s getting close to the hour!”

“Are we going to see a show!?” Niffty asked in delight, even as her eye roved toward the opening, probably getting an urge to fix it somehow. Husk hesitated. His wings felt iffy, and the sirens in the distance for the vehicular manslaughter Alastor had mindlessly caused was distracting him. But there was no point in remaining alone, so he followed quickly after. He avoided eyes with the sinner who still cowered, skin so pale it almost seemed that his boss had already sucked the life right out of him.

As they all walked downstairs, a gentle shaking through the floor, Husk had to ask his boss then. “Were you really going to eat him if he didn’t open up? Just some random low life? Thought you had higher tastes than that.”

At least when Mimzy isn’t bringing trash to your door for you to clean up.

Alastor chuckled, gazing at Husk from the corner of his eyes. “A little snack now and then does me well, you know.” He moved the cane from his arm, holding the handle in both hands. The vibration felt around them was to a beat, one that Alastor hummed to.

Husk didn’t press further, but the whole thing made him uneasy.

When they eventually made it to another set of doors at the bottom of the stairs, a double-set that looked like it would open inward, it was surprisingly devoid of any guards or bouncers whatsoever. It was also as unassuming as the one above ground, but without being broken to pieces—yet. 

Before Husk could even take another step towards it, Alastor whipped out his cane to block his path, inadvertently smacking it just against Husk’s ribs.

“Now, hold on a moment, my friend!”

“Fucking hell that hurt!” Husk pressed a hand against his chest, hissing between his teeth. “What is it?!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how these things go! Tonight calls for a bit of class. We need to look the part, after all!”

Niffty was already gasping with glee, her little feet stamping the floor as she raised her head up to Alastor. “Ooo, do we get to dress fancy!? Doll me up, Sir!”

“Of course, Niffty. I made sure I came prepared for the both of you!” And with that, Alastor gave a sharp snap of his fingers, sounding as loud as a gunshot within the small enclosed space they were in.

Husk expected nothing much to happen besides a quick color change of his cuffs. The bare minimum, as always. Not like Husk really wanted to bother with such things anymore. He watched the green wisp of magic snake around him, flinching from it slightly. He was always reminded of poison, something that would one day enter his veins and finally snap away at his afterlife.

Niffty was his polar opposite, holding up her hands as she made grabbing motions at the wispy light shouting, “Mine! Mine!” She tried to catch it between her palms like it was a living thing, as if she wanted to squeeze it tight between her fingers. Maybe Alastor noticed, and let the light play around her hands and hair before finally getting to work on her clothes.

Her dress started to billow as the green light changed her wardrobe on the spot. Her maid’s skirt thinned to a flowing red dress, one with small rhinestones embedded in the hem. She was even given accessories such as a fur scarf that nearly enveloped her shoulders, and her head topped with a familiar flapper-style hat, complete with a black feather to adorn it. Of course, Alastor’s taste was predictable.

Niffty was already laughing giddily, chewing at her fur scarf, kneading it between sharp teeth. If she was saying thank you, it was muffled between the scarf and her laughter.

Husk had been so distracted by Niffty’s antics that he barely noticed when his own wardrobe change was done until Alastor’s announcement. “And that takes care of that, Husker! Why, now you’re truly the cat’s meow!”

He was about ready to land a punch at Alastor’s grinning face, chained or not, until when he raised his arm, he noticed it wasn’t just a simple color change.

There was a suit sleeve, clean pressed, and shiny cufflinks near his wrist. He looked down at himself, and saw the suit in full, echoing that of his casino days. His suspender straps were hooked over a buttoned-up shirt, connected to black pants that were made from silk. He wasn’t even bare foot anymore, now wearing expensive leather shoes, looking as if they were spit shined clean.

He was probably speechless for too long, because Niffty scrambled up to him, her eye widening and reflecting the motes of green light that hovered around him still. “Whoa!” She pointed at him like he’d grown a second head. “Fancy cat!”

“Why you looking at me like it’s weird?!”

“Because it is!”

“Now, now, we can all gawk at ourselves later! Time to get this show on the road!” 

Alastor was already motioning them both with his cane, and it was then Husk noted Alastor’s own outfit. No matter what, the Radio Demon seemed to prefer his clothes to be somewhat tattered, yet act like it was all expertly tailored. His suit was still a stupidly bright red, though it lost the pinstripes, and had stitches embedded into the spaces around his shoulders. He even cemented his new outfit with a top hat, also sporting those same suspicious stitches, which already made Husk’s chest feel weird just thinking about it.

Once realizing that… he had to check, and so a quick glance up at his own head confirmed it. He made sure to give Alastor the deepest frown, snazzy suit or no. “You’re still making me wear the hat?”

Alastor tipped his own to Husk, grin climbing even higher across his cheeks. “Of course! Looks good on you. And now we can be twinsies!”

“Don’t you say twinsies ever again.”

“Threesies! Look!” Niffty was hopping up and down, pointing to her own. Her hopping got so manic that she practically leapt on Alastor’s shoulders, who held her up with one hand, barely registering the action. She might as well have been an extension of himself. “I love matching clothes with the bad boys…”

Husk sighed. “Fine. So that means whatever we’re here for is more than just beating up heads, is it?” He didn’t think Alastor would make them play dress-up if they were going to ruin it a few minutes later.

Alastor chuckled, but there was that curious glint in his eyes, a little blip in the radio filter that coated every syllable. “My, Husker. Can you not believe that I would just take you both for a night on the town? Especially after all your splendid work as the hotel staff!”

“No,” Husk immediately answered. “Not when I fall asleep at the bar for half the day and Niffty here is getting herself stuck in the vents while letting the roaches roam free.”

“I’m trying!” Niffty countered. “I have a good plan next time! I’m going to bait them with their children… then they’ll know suffering…”

“...Yeah, so, proving my point. We’re fucking shit at our jobs.” Husk stuck his hands in his pockets, though he was careful not to slouch like the usual. It was like being in a suit brought back memories of the high life for him. “So what’s your angle?”

And, for a moment, he was almost sure that Alastor would tell him just then. The smile lost its smugness for a moment, the eyes widening a little to show that he was considering…

Then, Alastor gave another laugh, high-pitched and raucous as he started to walk for the doors. “Husker, you and that little frowny face of yours! Geez! Just live a little! Ha ha!”  

As if to finalize it, Alastor went ahead and slapped Husk right across his backside as he passed him by.

Husk yowled and rounded at the demon. “Wh-what are you—WHAT?!”

“Oh come on, now. Don't be such a prude!”

“Prude boy!” Niffty giggled, then poked at Husk’s cheek. She suddenly spoke calmly, with barely concealed glee. “I can fix that for you.”

Husk delicately pushed the maniacal woman’s hand away, watching for a sudden needle to sprout out from her fingers. “You know what, I’m good.”

Once the doors finally opened, Husk was transported to a world of jazzy sound and bright colors. It was almost surreal just how it all crashed into him once they entered the lounge, like a tidal wave of saxophone crescendos and upbeat giggling, along with glasses clinking against each other while the alcohol spilled over. Demons from all around the Pride Ring were here, including hellborns that mingled around sinners with barely a thought, but it was still a sinner demon’s haven all the same. Husk was losing count of just how many different-shaped heads he was seeing, and the amount of eyes or mouths were rare;y the same between each head either.

There was a bar that put his own to shame, and it helped that it didn’t have any grotesque bones and antlers as part of its decor. An array of colorful bottles and glasses lined the shelves, and a quick glance at their labels showed Husk that this was the exceedingly rich stuff—maybe even illegal. Half of these vintages were impossible to get through any normal means, and he was sure whoever managed this place had a sin list a mile long to even get such goods. But his focus on the bar made him almost miss the live stage up front, spotlights focused on a soft jazz band, with trumpets and saxophones, cellos and trumpets, and a singer that breathed fire with every verse they sang, well, it made for quite a performance.

Honestly, a lot of it reminded him of his casino, on one of its good nights. And he had a lot of good nights back in those days.

“Ah, look! Our reserved table is already set up for us! Such good service!”

Husk looked to where Alastor pointed with his cane—a table that was topped over with several drinks, and placed near a half-seat plush couch, made of azure satin. There were several demons seated at that table, immersed in conversation and not knowing what would happen next.

Yeah, this is just routine, Husk thought.

When the three got close, it was only then those demons—two of them being loan sharks, and a third looking to be an eel-like imp from the watery ring that was Envy—finally noticed them at all. “The fuck you bozos want?” spoke one of the sharks, the right side of his hammerhead hitting his partner when he sharply turned.

“Listen, kid. It’ll be easier if you just moved.” Husk flipped a coin between his claws, making sure to show off the little skull engraved on one of its faces. Even down from his prime, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. “Our little lady ain’t so patient.”

Niffty slammed both of her hands on the table, jostling the drinks. She was already gathering some of them in an unmarked bag, and all while holding a nasty-looking needle between her teeth. “It’s time for a little clean up!”

Still, even with their threats, Husk was sure it was Alastor’s menacing aura behind them, along with the drone of his static and the shadows lengthening across the floors in subtle but discomforting ways that really sealed the deal there.

These demons were at least smarter than the one upstairs, and quickly lifted up from their seats. The hammerhead even made sure to sweep away any crumbs from their appetizers off the plush cushions. “It-It’s on us! We don’t want no trouble!”

“Now that’s a good man!” Alastor said with an optimistic air. But the static droning hadn’t stopped. It seemed to keep going until Husk had to flatten his ears just to take off the pressure.

The demons hightailed it out of there and disappeared into the crowd. And there was their table, all freshly cleaned and ready for them.

“Maybe one of these days you should just actually reserve a fucking table?” Husk made sure to let Alastor seat himself first, right in the middle of that couch. Niffty popped to his left after cleaning up the floor and scrubbing off the stuck gum from underneath the table. “Not like they wouldn’t just do that for you anyway.”

“Now, Husker. Where would the fun be in that?” He swept his arm to the seat next to him, which made Husk annoyed but still took that empty seat. “It’s refreshing to see your skills in action! It reminds me why I hired you.”

“Hired me? That’s what you call it?” Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. He flagged down a waitress immediately. “I need a fucking drink to deal with you.”

“Can I get mine with bleach?” Niffty asked with a waving hand. “I need to scrub these seats! They’re filthy!”

“If our spending money allows it, sure!”

“Can you both just not?”

--

Then again, maybe Husk underestimated just how refreshing a night out would be like.

The jazz lounge didn’t have games for him to play, and Hell would freeze over before he’d try and play cards with his party, even if it was just for a single cornchip. But a couple of high-end drinks and a fresh cigar that Alastor had somehow included in his suit pockets sweetened the night much more than he anticipated. 

Niffty got incredibly wasted though, which made sense for someone less than two feet tall. And yet…

“Niff, are you really on your second cocktail and already hammered?”

With how she could barely keep her head from lolling to the side, that was clearly a yes. She giggled and hiccuped, her hat staying firmly on her head no matter her constant motions (although she’d lost that feather that was attached to it). She was also wrapping her fur scarf completely around herself until she was basically entangling herself. 

Of course, Alastor was doing nothing to help, seemingly amused with her antics while he barely sipped at his glass of rye. In fact, he was taking such miniscule sips that Husk wondered if the guy was drinking even a thumbtack’s worth of it.

Husk felt like a babysitter when he stopped Niffty from falling off her seat, cradling her in one palm. “Boss, not that I don’t mind having a night out, but you’ve just been sitting there and saying nothing for the past hour.”

“Hm?” Alastor gave Husk a sideways glance. He had been focused on something Husk just wasn’t seeing apparently, and it had to be more than just the jazz performance that was up there. “Ha! You certainly like to question a good thing!”

Code for how he should keep his yap shut. Husk growled slightly, but he still had another cigar to take the edge off, one he got a chance to light it.

“Fine, fine. But you’re barely even paying attention to Niff here.”

Who was very much still leaning against his hand, now poking at his fingers with her own. “Hehe, I like it when they’re sharp.”

Husk was currently trying to find his lighter, his cigar held between his teeth, until a small spark of flame appeared right in front of his face. He was annoyed at himself for flinching, and seeing Alastor grinning at him while holding that flame in his palm didn’t exactly make him feel better.

That same fire lit up his cigar, and it was almost by reflex for Husk to take a drag before letting the smoke leave through the spaces of his gritted teeth.

Alastor continued to smile, and somehow, from this angle with the soft lighting of the lounge and the music playing in the background, it looked even sharper than before. “It’s sometimes good to be reminded of who you used to be.”

Husk ignored the heat felt underneath his fur, and leaned back enough to get more breathing space once again. “You still know how to give the worst compliments ever!”

“Ha! Even after a reward, you still manage to act like a grumpy kitty.”

Now Alastor was laughing and it was like whatever he had been focusing on, or was on the lookout for, had been completely forgotten. Too busy reveling in Husk’s moods, and seeing her boss laugh, Niffty joined him, her high-pitched tones meshing so well with Alastor’s soft tenor.

No matter what, Husk felt like the butt of a joke that Alastor had already been writing up weeks ago.

“Can you just lay off and do something about Niff here? Any more drinks and she’s gonna blackout.”

“Well, you’re a professional in that department so I’m sure she’ll have a lot to learn from you!” Alastor answered with another snicker, now letting a fingertip curl around the edge of Husk’s ear. Another flinch. Was it his imagination, or was Alastor moving closer to him on the seat?

“Listen, you bastard—”

“Role call!” Niffty shouted suddenly, her little drunken brain finally latching onto the nickname Husk had said a minute ago. She then scrambled up Husk’s arm and went to perch herself right on top of one of his wings, kicking her feet. “I need one of your feathers to replace the one in my hat!”

“At least let me finish my drink!” Husk was looking forlornly at his whiskey glass on the table, half-filled, ice cubes already melting fast. Fending the girl off was already taking his energy.

And all the while, Alastor was leaning his head on his hand, watching both of his minions struggle with each other, even as a few eyes turned to hear what the commotion was about. No surprise, for the Radio Demon loved entertainment in so many ways.

Except, he heard that tell-tale blip of static right next to him. Sharp and intriguing. It even cut through the live jazz, engulfing the sound until it was all Husk was hearing. 

And when Husk turned, he saw Alastor looking towards the stage, his eyes a deep red, the shape of dials cranked all the way to the right. The static blipped again, filled with electricity.

Whatever he was seeing, Husk didn’t get a chance to really see for himself. He didn’t even get a chance to look at the stage, because, before he could even know what the fuck was happening, he soon found himself upended—and what that meant was that Alastor was standing up, and was holding Husk by the waist and carrying him over his shoulder.

Hefted up like some sack of grain, Husk was fidgeting, and his wings flapping in surprise. “What the—? Al, are you fucking drunk?! Let go!”

“No, I’m not, my good friend. But you certainly are!” With another quick snap, Husk’s forgotten whiskey glass was back in his hand. “Get a good nip of the dog for what we’ll be doing next!”

“Oo, me! Pick me up too!” Niffty was reaching up her arms towards Alastor, looking ready to grab at the hem of his suit if she didn’t get her way. She was standing up on the table to get more reach.

Alastor had no hesitation. He picked up Niffty by the scruff of her dress, her high heels clicking against each other as she wiggled her legs. It was almost a bit adorable were it not for the fact that she was actively salivating, her own spit getting onto that fur scarf of hers.

It was all in one motion, the way Alastor seemed to just step over most of the crowd that were in the lounge. It was helped by those shadow tendrils of his as they embedded themselves into the floors and walls, knocking aside a few customers’ drinks in his travel. Husk felt like he was being pulled along in a parachute, the wind hitting his face as they were propelled towards the stage and its line-up of wide-eyed, confused performers.

But, for all that was worth, they acted pretty quickly in getting away. Like those other demons, they knew when to leave once the Radio Demon was in sight.

Husk was not-so-gently dumped onto the stage, and it was only by his stupid feline body that he landed on his feet and managed to not spill his drink, which was still clutched in his claws. Alastor was, of course, much more courteous to Niffty, even as she got saliva all over his shoes. It was like a waterfall had originated in her maw, which only slowed down once she was plopped gently near the center of the stage.

“And to think, we almost missed our schedule!” Alastor whirled his cane as he stepped across the stage to a bunch of confused, half-drunk eyes. “But good ol’ Jimmy wouldn’t go over our act on purpose! Isn’t that right, Jimmy?” 

He snapped his fingers once more, and a spotlight shone right over one particular demon in the crowd, who had been busy sidling up next to a pretty thing whose long blonde hair was trailing near the floor and her dress tighter than most corsets. Jimmy, in comparison, wasn’t much of a looker himself.

But Husk recognized him all the same. Another Overlord, but one of those small-time ones. Barely worth a dot on the map, and only owned a few territories, but it was probably this jazz lounge more or less, which definitely earned the guy some cash. Maybe even some souls while he was at it.

The demon, looking partly zombified as his form, was sweating bullets. “A-Alastor!? You, uh… when did you get here?”

But Alastor simply ignored him, back to whirling his cane as another spotlight hovered over him. “Now that everything’s back in order, we can show you folks a good show! Husker! Look alive!”

The saxophone that appeared in Husk’s arms was almost half-expected. He held it up with little issue in one hand, while he was still holding onto the whiskey glass in another. Immediately, he downed the whiskey in one gulp. 

Niffty, meanwhile, was looking out over the crowd, her eye very wide and her pupil very dilated. She was no longer gushing out saliva, but she did seem to forget how to breathe. That didn’t stop Alastor from manifesting a little microphone stand for her, one suited for precisely her height, and of course in the popular style of the 30’s.

“After all the money and time I gave to dear old Jimmy to create this wonderful establishment, I thought it would be nice to celebrate it!” Alastor gave a final fingersnap to have a grand piano poof into existence, its ivory keys looking as bleached as the bones he’d pick clean. “Especially after all the loans and promises he made, and all the dealings made in secret, and all the little loopholes he believes himself to be so cunning and slick to not get caught in! It’s really been quite something, folks!”

Jimmy looked ready to disintegrate right there and then, because even he must have heard the soft drone of that radio static rise up in treble ever so slightly. 

Trying to cut the Radio Demon out of extra deals, extra money, extra anything—well, Husk saw what happened to those who tried to do so with Alastor, and his boss rarely had mercy for Overlords.

None except for Husk, apparently.

Alastor still looked oddly happy as he sauntered on stage towards his piano. “But we can’t keep the audience waiting!” His cane whisked away into the air, and as he sat down, his fingers were already tapping away at the piano keys. The notes were clear and crisp, and his foot moved against the foot pedals with knowing practice. “Time for our big number!”

There was magic in Alastor’s music, Husk had to guess. It was the only reason why he was lifting up the saxophone and actually thought about going along to melody. And Niffty, just by the sharp sounds of those piano keys, had blinked and was back to grinning again. Bolstered by Alastor’s presence, or maybe forgetting there were a bunch of people, had already picked up on what her boss wanted.

Niffty held the mic to her grinning mouth, took a deep breath—and bellowed out her verse.

“HEY BIG SPENDER!”

Husk nearly did a spit take on his own damn spit valve, but held it together to pull off a song that was not at all what Niffty was singing, not that Alastor gave a thought to it.

This was a revenge outing, and Alastor liked such outings to be messy.

Luckily, Husk was too damn drunk to care. And being drunk didn’t dampen his saxophone playing in the slightest.

“Good looking! So refined!” The spotlight wavered on good ol’ Jimmy, all as big sweat patches appeared in his suit, and half of his face was literally falling off to the floor in gross decay. “Say wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my mind?!”

“No,” Jimmy said immediately in a small voice.

Alastor played the piano louder and Husk was already playing catch-up to his frenetic pace. But Husk was in his element; dressed in his old suit, buzzed up by whiskey and the cigar smoke that was still settling on his tongue. Hell, he’d play a few more encores after this if that’s what Alastor wanted.

“Let me get right to the point!” Niffty emphasized her song with a flash of one of her needles, stabbing it towards the audience. A few in the front row had already scattered—and maybe Jimmy would have as well, but a suspicious gathering of shadows had rooted him to his seat, making sure he couldn’t move an inch.

“I don’t pop my cork for every bad boy I see… But I could.” Niffty giggled into the mic, looking ready to snap it to pieces with a wicked bite. She still flourished that needle with dangerous energy.

Jimmy was struggling against his binds, shaking as the singing Niffty seemed to move a bit closer—except she was still on stage, and it was Jimmy who was moving closer, aided by those tendrils that acted as his own personal, nightmarish chauffeur. He floated in the air, held up by those shadows like it was nothing.

“Alastor, I’ll pay you, alright?!” Jimmy was squealing desperately. “Just don’t let this bitch get near me.”

“Tsk, now that isn’t how you speak to a lady. What would your wife think?” Alastor’s voice was crackling, the corruption in it devolving with the static while his piano playing stayed fresh.

“I can show you a good time!” Niffty was now leaning towards Jimmy, holding up her mic as she acted as if it was a serenade. But her unhinged smile and widening eye betrayed every chaotic thought in her head. “Let me show you a good time, bad boy!!”

And if the jazz lounge emptied faster by the second, Niffty certainly didn’t mind, and Husk found himself not caring either. As long as he doesn’t mess up the few drinks left. He should have felt more pissed off that this was not the relaxing outing Alastor had originally promised, but again, there was something in Alastor’s playing, despite Niffty screaming out lyrics that he was sure his boss had never heard before.

Again, there was a magic to Alastor that he still had trouble wrapping his head around, but was drawn to each and every time.

“Hey big spendeeerrr!!” Niffty lambasted the verse so hard that the mic was looping in feedback. Jimmy was clearly suffering, being the closest to rambunctious Niffty. “Hey big spendeerrr!!” She jumped onto one of those shadows, brandishing her needle like it was a weapon—and it absolutely was for her. “Spend a little time with me!”

“No, go away!” There was a change of pitch in Jimmy’s tone, a soft glow from where his eyes should have been, but were instead only sockets. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

The piano notes were then suddenly slammed with a harsh, discordant noise. Alastor placed both hands down, standing up as he slowly turned his neck with a harsh crack. The smile on his face had stretched from ear to ear.

Just like that, Jimmy’s own little power display withered instantly.

“After such a reception to our performance, I insist you come onto my radio show!” Alastor said, elongating, fangs widening, and eyes shining with more red than should be possible. “No exceptions!”

Now, if there was a mess afterwards, the jazz lounge and all its pricey accessories smashed to bits, and Niffty laughing along with Alastor as Jimmy screamed, Husk didn’t notice.

The song he was playing was just too good to stop.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

How many children would each of the Salieri men have? -Anon

A/N: Okay this is a response to a inbox request. For some reason I cannot find it anymore?? Sometimes my inbox eats up y’all’s messages. I’m so sorry!! ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING THIS!! I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY.

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam

I know I’ve written before that he wants kids with his wife but that’s delusional ¡Yandere! Sam who’s only doing that to baby trap you.

I think he truly doesn’t wants kids and would be perfectly fine if you couldn’t bear any. I think the true reason why he goes through with it is because of the time that he’s in.

Hotshot mob-boss Sam would need to have children because he’d eventually need to have a successor for the family.

Needs come before wants😪

Plus it’d look so weird if he willingly chose not to have any when he can. During that time if you were married with absolutely no kids by like the second year…*side eyed* (exaggeration but y’know)

Please no more than 2 tho. Only wants a son but would be okay with having daughter if he also had a son.

Would be an okay father tho so don’t worry too much. He’s like a dad that swears he hates dogs and if his family gets one he won’t take care of it but once the dog is around he switches up.

Yeah that’s him, he loves his kids a lot. He doesn’t always know how to show it and he’s kind of both physically and emotionally absent.

He does provide them with everything and if they are giving you a hard time he will defend you.

Paulie

You cannot change my mind on this. He wants the most kids and has the strongest desire for them.

This man is a hopeless romantic and he reeeeallly wants to have a perfect large family. I read a headcannon once that said Paulie had a very abusive father and the Mob was his ticket out of that. I believe that too and he wants to become the father he never had.

He fantasizes about being the best dad ever and having the whole family work together in his pizza joint. How beautiful his wife would look carrying his kids.

He wants 6-12 kids…3 boys and 3 girls if it’s 6 or 7boys and 5 girls if it’s 12.

Have you seen that scene in shameless where the guy goes “I HAVE A MAGICAL DICK” after finding out his wife is having twins…yeah that’s Paulie

Seriously this is his dream and if he ever becomes a father he’d never shut up about it. #1 PTA dad. He’s extremely involved with his children’s life. He’ll go through insane lengths to protect his children from a horrible childhood.

Tommy

The original “whatever my wife wants, I’m happy with” man.

I think he’s indifferent about the whole concept of having kids..? Like having kids would be nice….so is not having kids. Doesn’t really care about the societal pressure to have them at all.

He cares about his wife more than any of that junk. If having children would be too much of a strain on your life then don’t worry about it.

To be honest he’s kind of worried to have children because any day he could be gone and now his partner would be left as a single mother. :/

So I’m going to say while he’s actively in the mob he’d be leaning towards a no. But if this is after he’s escaped and you’ve settled down, Tommy is down for it.

Maybe 1-4 kids. Keeping it rather light and traditional. I don’t think this man would handle more than that tbh. Hes certified tired™️ and the more kids the less sleep.

I have a feeling though that he’d have all girls. He’s actually okay with that though. Mobster in a tutu to make his girls smile🤣

I’d say he’d be a normal suburban dad but I think he’s slightly too reserved and dangerous for that.

The family dynamic is super normal. He goes out to work to provide for y’all and when he gets home he’ll help the kids with homework.

We all know Tom is extremely loyal and loving so his kids are his world. They mean absolutely everything to him and he’ll do whatever it takes to help guide them through life.

[quinloki]

Pussy Cat

fem!reader x Lucci

Summary: You're the most sought after piece of ass in the Grand Line Metro, and you're going to retire soon to open a BDSM club. One of your clients offers his services, but he's not really what you're looking for.

You give him a chance to change your mind.

CW: knotting, vaginal sex, oral sex, rough sex, lights on, pressed against glass, forced orgasms, mdni

Written on a whim, thanks to @anon-germany for causing the inspiration randomly. It's not exactly what I had kicked around in discord chat, but I like how it went.

It was a nice room.

They were always nice rooms. Nice rooms, nice food, nice clothes, nice, nice, nice.

You sigh, but it’s barely a shift of your shoulders, hardly a release of soft air between your lips. You’re with a good client, or had been. The business of the evening was handled, and thin silks hung from the finely shaped lines of your freshly cleaned body. The jarring marks of the night’s festivities dappled your skin, but the salve tonight and the application in the morning would be enough to fade them entirely.

You might take tomorrow night off, unless it was to keep your current client company again. Taking a sip of sweet liquor you smile despite it. That was hardly likely.

Of all your clients, Lucci called for you the least.

You were certain it had nothing to do with your skills. There was no one else he was bringing into his room. Between his own busy work, and his low - but no less satisfying - libido, he simply had no more need for additional companionship. He paid for the privilege to mark you, and he never overstepped the boundaries of what marks he could leave.

Unsurprising. You were the starling of the city. The most sought woman in the entire metropolis. Only six people in the city could call you directly, and of those, only five were clients.

But soon you would be retiring. The club was taking off, and while you had nothing against warming the beds of those you deemed worthy, it wasn’t something you could dedicate time enough to as a job anymore.

“I’m surprised,” Lucci says, walking into the room with naught on but the clear drops of water slipping from his thick hair and down his chiseled body.

“That I’m still here?” You muse. You weren’t kicked from someone’s room, you left when you were ready. Lucci knew that, so your words were a hallow jape.

“My current project is ending soon, and you haven’t offered me a position in your club.” He says it flatly, the air of one who would’ve turned it down anyway.

“Lucci, my dear, not in a million years.” You reply just as flatly.

“Oh?” The interest is curling in his tone, but you don’t pay it any mind. He’s an objective one - pragmatic.

“You’re good at what you do, and you’re good in bed, I won’t deny that, but my sweet winter cat, you’re not skilled enough for my club.” The sweet liquor against your tongue is perhaps, maybe a little too sweet.

“Skilled enough for some other club then?”

“Perhaps.” You drape yourself over the arm of the couch, watching his naked form shift under your scrutiny. “Why would you even be concerned with such a thing? I couldn’t imagine you accepting me as your boss.”

“Considering a change of pace.” He admits, stepping behind the marble-floored wet bar. “Maybe I’ve given enough to this government.”

“Well, I would recommend some other change of pace. Besides, you are not filled with an excess of passion, Lucci. I wouldn’t feel right expecting you to fake it more than not.” You take a drink, catching the sardonic smile on his lips. “Not that you aren’t faking enough already. See? You said yourself you wanted a change of pace.”

“What skills then, would I need, in order to not be faking it?”

“Ah… don’t make me answer something like that pussy cat,” you tease, the amber liquid warming your blood and sinking you into the brushed leather of the couch. “I’m far too comfortable around you to be kind.”

“Don’t waste your energy treating me kindly. If I’m going to make an informed decision about my next move, I need to know.”

“Hmph.” You take another gulp and regard him for a moment. He seems neutral enough, irritated maybe in some deep recess, bothered that you hadn’t simply accepted his offer as a matter of course. Well, he asked.

“In order to be useful in a kink club, one needs to be flexible. In mind, body, and skillset. Certainly, people will have things that they specialize in, but even the world’s best rigger does me little good if he can’t also fill several different kinds of dominant roles.

“Case in point, my dear. Rough, demanding, and prone to leaving marks. None of these things are bad, but you rarely deviate. You’re predictable in your desires, and your desires are for your own pleasure. You’d make a fine client to my club, but less so an addition to it.

“Your rigging skills are lacking. You don’t have the patience for proper shibari, and you don’t have the elegance for a lot of the knots. You are, admittedly elegant yourself, but I need people who can make my clients feel like they’re being enhanced by the experience, not just used.

“All of your love is for yourself as well. I don’t mind it, I’m not mewling beneath you in blissful haze because I’m seeking love in your sheets, but you are coldness without warmth. You’re all hard edges and sharp teeth and while you could find money enough in doing case by case client work - as there is certainly a market for your type - the lack of flexibility does me little good.”

Pausing you finish off the last of the sweet liquid in your cup, sighing and laying your head on the soft arm of the couch.

“You may well be skilled enough to know what your clients want, but I doubt you could put passion into your praise - assuming you could even be spurred toward actually saying the words themselves.” You wave your hand dismissively, turning enough to look over and realize that Lucci is standing in front of you and the couch.

The first thing you notice is the twitching, throbbing cock between his thighs, and as your eyes shift upward you see the hard gold eyes on you. His pupils are slits and you’re certain he’s willing himself to keep his human form.

“… You asked.” You assert. Despite the ease in your limbs and words you could feel the tension in the room.

“And the other side of that evaluation?” He questions. Despite the edge in the air and the obvious tension in his body, his voice is deadly calm.

You glance down at the impressive member he has, and realize the base is swelling. You’d explicitly forbade him from transforming while having sex with you, but only because you’d been worried his zoan form would be too cat-like to be pleasurable. Something about the idea of a knot in your guts was putting a knot in your guts already.

“I… doubt,” you tear your eyes back up to his face. “That anyone would be your equal in,” you lick your lips involuntarily. The look in his eyes practically has you pinned to the couch. “Primal play.”

“Could you,” you swallow again, eyes shifting back down. The knot at the base of his cock is almost twice as thick as his shaft. “Control-!”

Lucci leans in suddenly, a growl in his chest, and you jump back, sinking deep into the couch. He’s almost nose to nose with you, and there’s no where else for you to go. His hands are on either side of you, and you’re effectively imprisoned. It would be impossible to slip by him, unless he allowed you to.

“Do you think this is a lack of control?”

Your eyes shift between his. You can’t keep yourself calm, and you can feel your pulse start to race. It’s not fear - you haven’t feared a client in a long time. But there is something. Some sensation that has you feeling concern, at the least.

You barely shake your head. “…No.”

He leans down more, hot breath crashing against your skin as his lips trail so close to your jaw, you can almost feel the small hairs on your skin move from the pressure.

“Don’t you want to know?” He questions, hips moving enough to lay his heavy cock on your thigh. “What this knot will do to your precious, hundred thousand beri a night delicious pussy?” His teeth nip at the curve of your ear. “What wholly undignified sounds would you make despite yourself? Would your sweet, practiced mewling purrs survive the orgasms I force from you?” He licks up the side of your neck and you drop the glass. Lucci catches it with ease, pressing his head against yours and full on pinning you.

“Say yes.”

You shift against the couch. “To what?”

“Let me fuck you.” He growls the demanding words, breathing you in deep for a moment. “You always play at giving yourself to me. This time, this last time, actually surrender to me.” His hands grip the leather of the couch, making it groan.

“… yes.”

Lucci throws the glass, unbothered as it crashes against the wall, and lifts you from the couch. You gasp at the sudden motion, but you’re over his shoulder so quickly it’s disorienting. By the time you can sort out where you are he’s draped you over the bar he was standing at when he first posed his question.

Pushing you back, Lucci holds you by your thighs, spreading your legs wide and keeping you from falling off the bar by his hold alone. Your ass against one side of the bar, your shoulders were off the other side of it. Your hands were holding onto the edge while your head was pointed toward the floor, leaving you arched over the narrow bar, unable to see what Lucci was doing.

He kisses the insides of your thigh before licking heavily against your slit. His tongue pushes past your labia easily and he sucks your clit harshly. You moan as he continues, letting the rush of blood to your head carry the pleasure to newer heights.

He licks and sucks you to the edge quickly, and you don’t try to fight it. Lucci will have to do more than eat you out like a man starved to make you fall apart, but just as you begin to indulge in your orgasm he stops, and slaps your swollen clit harshly. The jolt of pain mingles with the orgasm you had nearly reached and you cry out.

The swear ripped from your lips isn’t the sound Lucci was looking for, and before you can yell at him, he’s back between your thighs. This time with and ice cube in his mouth.

“LUCCI!” You cry, the cold soothing the sting of the strike and his tongue making your body jolt. He holds you firmly, despite the way your body bucks, and you stay stuck in your precarious position. Once the ice melts he changes gears, grabbing one of your ankles and holding it out. The leverage keeps you in place, but it feels like you’re going to fall.

Two fingers push into your cold cunt and they feel so warm comparatively it almost burns. The sharp sting is blessedly brief, but your sense of imbalance has you off balance entirely. Lucci’s fingers curl inside you and you nearly cum, once his thumb presses against your clit there’s no saving you.

“No! I - hnnnngh!!” You choke on your words, the powerful rush of pleasure splattering dots across your vision. Your head spins as blood rushes to your thighs and pounds back into your head. Lucci doesn’t relent until you’re gasping to catch your breath, your body twitching randomly as you come down from the violent high.

A swear slips from your lips as Lucci reaches over the bar and lifts you up. You cling to him, too hazy and dizzy to keep yourself upright easily on your own.

“Bastard,” you mutter into his shoulder, not even protesting as he picks you up entirely.

He presses your bare back against glass and before you can ask what he thinks he’s doing he kisses you. The rough action denies you much say in the matter, and his tongue is in your mouth as his cock pushes into your swollen pussy.

You can’t help the satisfied moan that swirls around your tongue as he slowly pushes in deeper and deeper. The swell of the knot has made him thicker, you’re almost certain, and the girthy bulb at the base nestles against your labia warmly. Considering everything else, it’s gentle, despite the concern that paws at the edges of your mind about how it could possibly fit.

Leaning into him, you drape your arms around his shoulders, scratching your nails against his back. You can feel the grin pull at the corners of his lips, even as he continues to kiss you, his hips beginning a steady pace. With your legs hooked over his arms, your body held where he wants it by the glass against your skin, he picks up speed.

The gentle smack of the knot against your lips becomes more of a slap, but Lucci never thrusts in hard enough to bruise you. The light sting of the wet slap isn’t enough to lessen the pleasure coiling up inside you again, your fingers flexing against his back as the pace and your heavy breaths have broken the kiss.

“Wuh-where,” you murmur foggily, looking around enough to realize he’s pressed you against the thick sliding doors that lead out to the balcony. No one from the street would see you, but with the lights on in the hotel suite, anyone from the nearby hotel towers would know what was going on.

You start to say his name and his teeth are at your neck. He doesn’t bite, instead he licks and nips at the tender skin as he thrusts faster, pushing your legs back further. Your fingers dig into his back more as you can do little else than take what he gives you.

“Fuck,” you huff, unable to even adjust as he brings you closer again. You can feel the sweat prickle along your skin, the stickiness of your skin against the glass threatening to give way as pleasure and friction make your skin slick. All you can do is hold onto Lucci more, trusting him to keep his iron grip on you even if the glass doesn’t.

“N-no, please, Lucci!” The pleasure was building so fast, and you wanted to prolong it, to escape it, to have a moment to adjust to it, but he wouldn’t give you that. This wasn’t him following your mewling desires.

“Too-too much!” You nearly growl the words, a dull ache twisting your muscles from the second orgasm so close on the heels of the first. Not only does he deny you a moment, but he speeds up, thrusting into you hard enough that it’s pushing the breath from your lungs.

The knot bullies against your labia and the wet mess of sweat and slick sets off a concern in your brain, making you tense. Lucci growls against your neck, as you fruitlessly try to push him back. The knot, the knot - it’s going to go in, and you can’t form the words to beg him to slow down!

“Cum!” Lucci snarls, the heavy thrust behind the word forcing the thick knot into your sopping cunt.

The growl, the command, the terrifying stretch as the thick mass buries into you, and there’s no way for you to deny him. Your body locks up as the orgasm slams into you. The sound ripped from your throat is guttural, full of fear and pleasure and maybe even anger. You claw at his back, arms desperate to pull your body up from what felt like a drowning.

When you manage to breathe in, the rush of oxygen flooding your muscles as they finally released, you were sobbing. Lucci grins, licking your tears from your cheeks as he rolls his hips, fucking the knot deep and sending jolts of pleasure through your already shivering body.

“Ah, good.” He muses, slowly bullying the knot inside you. “You’re really enjoying it. Sometimes it’s too over-stimulating, and causes pain, but you’re lucky.”

Lucci pushes his hips up into you, leaning down and licking your breast sweetly, sending a thrill through you and pulling a whine from your lips.

Moving you away from the glass he holds you close, walking away from the balcony doors. Each step makes you moan as he shifts inside you. Your toes curl and your arms shiver from every small movement sending jolts of sharp pleasure through you.

“We’re going to be like this for a couple hours at least.” He explains calmly, laying you out on the messy bed from the rounds before your conversation. The implication sinks into you and you shake your head. “I said I was going to fuck you.” Lucci reminds you, pressing heavily into your hips.

“You didn’t think I’d be done after a couple small orgasms, did you… pussy cat?”