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williamssgirl · 1 month

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❀*ੈ˖°.𖥔 ݁ casual (part ii)

you can read part one here!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you haven't spoken to ellie in a week, 9 missed calls and 38 texts from her, none of which you've answered, but ellie doesn't give up so easily.

warnings: smut, mdni, intimate sex, the knee thing (e!receiving), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), switch!ellie and reader, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, fluffy, reader lives in an apartment, ellie is very apologetic, barley proofread & semi-rushed and i think thats it. lmk if not.

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this was meant to be like 1.6k words so idk how we got to 35 words away from 3k but... enjoy! dt: @satellitespinner

don't buy tlou | free palestine

(1:02am) ellie

please let me explain

(1:06am) ellie

cmon please i promise it'll be worth your while

(1:07am) ellie

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

(1:09am) you

guess who texted again

(1:09am) olive

no way

r u gonna reply?

(1:10am) you

absolutely not

i made a fool of myself

(1:11am) olive

maybe and JUST MAYBE

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

(1:12am) you

what the fuck olive

do you want me to die? genuine question

(1:12am) olive

LISTEN

it might help

plus she seems genuinely apologetic

why is she even apologising?

(1:14am) you

for being a dick and wanting a quick hookup?

(1:14am) olive

because she has feelings and she knows she fucked up?

(1:15am) you

😐 bye

(1:15am) olive

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

okay?

(1:16am) you

i'll think about it

(2:03am) you

11:30, you get two minutes

(2:03am) ellie

thank you so much

(2:03am) ellie

i'll be there

nine hours later, and ellie was a mess.

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

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

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

a plan to win you back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but you-”

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

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

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

“ellie…” you needily whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we’re okay?” she asks

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

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

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

#aria's fics ೀ !#do not support neil druckmann #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #elliewilliams #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #mdni banner by @cafekitsune #lace divider by @v6que

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manjibunny · 6 months

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FORBIDDEN FRUIT

SYNOPSIS: You swear you hate your soon-to-be stepmom, Shoko, but why do you want to fuck her so badly? C/W: stepcest, cheating (Shoko cheating on your dad), fem! reader, reader is being a brat (at first), brat taming, fingering, cunnilingus,face riding, mommy kink, public sex,spanking, alcohol, dacryphilia, sixty nine ZAYA SENT YOU A NEW MESSAGE: Guess who wrote some smutty headcanons to celebrate 69 followers? That's right, yours truly! I've had this idea marinating in my head for a while now, and finally I have a good reason to write my thoughts out! I wanna thank all of my beautiful followers for making this milestone possible, and my hot sexc moots for listening to my thirsts at three am when I can't fall asleep <333 You guys made it possible that I can finally post my unhinged thoughts on Tumblr hehe <3 special shoutout to @redskyvenus @avatarofstars and @gennysuga for being cuties <333

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who’s only ten years older than you, making her way too young for your old dad

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who’s gotten together with your dad right after you’ve moved out for university

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who got engaged to your dad about two years after she and your dad got together

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who was baffled that you didn’t even know about her existence before your dad called you and told you about the engagement

“Hi dad”, you picked up the phone. You and your dad weren’t talking for the last few months as often as you were before. You chalked it up to him just being busy with his new position at the hospital he was working, and you being the studious girl that you were, you rarely had time to call him. You didn’t take it to heart. “Hello princess, I gotta tell you something…” your dad said in a quiet voice. Immediately, you knew something was off. Hearing the nervousness in his voice, you told him to continue. "Yeah? Of course, tell me” “Princess, I’m getting married” Now, THAT you took to heart. Nothing he said made it through to you. You knew he was talking to you, he was probably explaining, or begging for forgiveness. Heck, he might be talking about his soon-to-be wife, but nothing he said registered to you. The only thoughts you had was about the costs of traveling back home and weighing the consequences of you missing a few days of university. At the end, you made up your mind: You will go home and you will give him a piece of your mind. You didn’t tell your dad about your plans on paying him a visit. And why should you? He didn’t tell you about his engagement after all, so coming home unannounced felt a little bit like giving him a taste of his own medicine. Angrily, you pulled out the keys to your dad’s house, unlocking the door and entering the house. All hell broke loose when you walked in on your father and a young, brown-haired woman sitting a bit too closely to each other. Your poor father had to calm you down and explain the situation to the woman, Shoko Ierie, your future stepmom. “Why didn’t you tell her about us?” She’d ask your dad, getting annoyed when she didn’t receive a good answer from him.

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who despite knowing she hasn't made the best impression on you, decided to at least try and be a good stepmom

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who tried really hard to make you like her

Shoko was at the end of her wits. She tried everything to make you like her. She tried making you your favorite food after asking your dad for the recipes the night of your little meltdown. The next day, when she was finally finished with the preparations and put your favorite dish in front of you on the table, you seemed to be less than impressed. You didn’t even touch the food, stating you’d rather get takeout than eat anything that was touched by her. Shoko would find out that you like manga and get you the titles that were recommended to her at the bookstore, only for you to reveal that you’ve already read these manga series years ago. Shoko overhears you talking to´your friend on the phone. With a soft voice that Shoko hadn’t heard from you yet, you reassured your friend that her mother wouldn’t hate her just because she got together with someone she didn’t approve of. Shoko felt as if her moment to shine finally arrived. Determined to prove her worth as a good stepmom, the anxiety left her body. A newfound confidence spread across her body as she sat down next to you on the couch. “Hey, I overheard that you were talking to your friend, I just wanted to-” offer some advice, is what Shoko wanted to say, but she never got there. With an annoyed face, you stared her down. “What the hell made you think that listening to a private conversation is ok?” you cut her off. “Shouldn’t you be busy with my dad or something? Like, suck his dick or something?”Stunted, Shoko stood up and silently left the living room. She was aware that you didn’t like her, but did you have to be such a brat?

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who the more she pays attention to you, becomes more and more attracted to her soon-to-be stepdaughter and feels ashamed for that

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who decided that perhaps the best way to bond with you was to take you wedding dress shopping with her

“What?” “ To bond. I know you don’t like me a lot-” “And you’d be right” you snarkingly cut off Shoko. “I know” Shoko remained calm “But you have to accept that me and your dad are getting married. Do you care so little about your dads happiness?” She tried to reason with you. Shoko already saw the conflicted look on your face coming. You stayed silent, thoughts crusading in your mind. She was right, you were acting selfish. You did want your father to stay away from Shoko as much as possible, especially since Shoko was way too young to even be dating your father. But maybe she makes him happy? You hated to admit it, but your father was happier than ever before. Seeing your knitted eyebrows and absent gaze, Shoko watched as your inner conflict unraveled inside your mind. She knew what she was doing, in fact, she planned for it. Trying to get you to like her made her observe you, trying to understand why you didn’t like her. While she guessed it must have been the age gap between her and your father, she noticed one thing: You were a daddy’s girl through and through. If you wouldn’t like her on your own accord, Shoko was ready to tug on your heartstrings. And unsurprisingly, it worked. With a defeated sigh you gave in. “Fine, I’ll go to that bridal shop with you if that means to make dad happy”

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who looks absolutely gorgeous in every dress she tries on and tries to get your opinion on the dresses

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who noticed the way your eyes lingered a bit too long on her body but decided to stay quiet about it

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who took you back home after picking put the perfect dress and suggests you two have a glas of wine alone while your father was out

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who had a good time getting drunk with you,

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who knew that you had the hots for her and took the initiative and kissed you

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who quickly grew addictive to your lips and couldn't stop herself anymore

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who got you naked faster than the speed of light and spread your legs apart, eager to have a taste of your pussy

It happened so fast. One moment you were drinking wine with Shoko, the next you were laying naked underneath her. Drowning your growing need for your soon to be stepmom in the sweet alcohol was all you could do. You chugged the beverage like it was water, and with each drop that touched your tongue, the restraints you had seemed to grow weaker and weaker. Instead of silencing your lust towards the woman you thought you hated, the alcohol in your system seemed to do the contrary. Lust and alcohol are two dangerous things to mix, but drunk of the wine and drunk of Shoko’s lips, you were willing to deal with the consequences when you sobered up. Intoxicated by the taste of your juices, Shoko couldn’t help but bury her face between your legs, lapping every drop of your essence as if she was tasting a rare wine. Her tongue grazed against your throbbing clit while she took in your flustered face. Mouth wide agape and teary eyed, you truly were a beautiful sight. Much better than her usual bratty behavior, Shoko thought happily as her tongue teased your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please” You moaned out desperately “I want more. Let me cum”“And you’ll get more if you’ll be good to me” Shoko replied. You’d get much more, more than anyone but Shoko could offer.

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who makes you cum more than anyone before her in one single night

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who became wet just by eating you out and hearing your sweet moans

Shoko knows how to eat pussy, you drunkenly thought as you laid on the couch, feeling limp and overstimulated from all the orgasms Shoko gave you. You swore you could fall asleep right there, but the sight of Shoko taking her clothes off seemed to wake you up. You had already guessed that she had a nice body after not so discreetly checking her out at the bridal shop, but seeing her in all of her glory topped any of your expectations. Her plump boobs and thick thighs had you craving to touch her. As if reading your mind, Shoko got on top of you and kissed you slowly and sensually. Her tongue trusted inside your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself. As she pulled away from your glossy lips, Shoko couldn’t deny herself from easing the almost painful throb between her legs. “Will you be good for me?” She asked breathlessly. You nodded, unable to speak. Shoko was satisfied with your answer, she had a feeling you would be obedient to her request. Without waiting too long, she repositioned herself. Shoko gently gripped your hair as she sat on your face, making sure to not put her whole weight on you. “Stick out your tongue, pretty girl” Shoko mused. You got a perfect glance at her sobbing cunt, her pretty pink clit throbbing in anticipation as you looked at her pussy absolutely mesmerized. Shoko didn’t have to tell you twice. Greedily, you began licking her pussy, moaning as the taste of her juices hit your tongue. Moaning, Shoko began slowly grinding against your face. “You’re doing such a good job” she whimpered as she felt your tongue teasing her leaking hole. You groaned into her pussy as her clit pressed against your nose, still trying to tongue fuck your soon to be stepmom. The coil in her stomach snapped, Shoko moaned out loudly as she came all over your face while you eagerly licked her clean, clearly enjoying the taste of her cum.

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who sobered up after cumming on your face and realized what you two have done, feeling a mixture of shame and satisfaction as she saw your fucked out face and her juices coating your pretty lips

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who apologizes to you the next morning and begs you not to tell your father

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who got frustrated with you when you told her she should leave your father if she's such a cheater

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who grew angrier and angrier as you continued to call her names and accused her of being a gold digger

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who in a fit of rage decides to put you back in your place, all sense of shame left her as soon as she reached her tipping point

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who makes you call her mommy as she spanks you to remind you of your place

It was almost comical how fast you complied to take off your clothes once Shoko used her authoritarian voice. “Take off your clothes, right now” You knew you messed up big time when you saw Shokos glare, her eyes holding a dark glint that made you feel fearful of the consequences of not obeying her. Eyes landing on the floor, refusing to meet Shokos cold glare, you took off your clothes. You peeled your clothes off your body piece by piece, until you stood in front of Shoko with only your lacy underwear. Despite feeling fearful of what Shoko might do to you, a wave of excitement washed over your body as Shoko got closer to you. She forcefully grabbed your chin, making you look up from the ground into her icy gaze. “Planning on going out?” Shoko mocked, hooking her index finger under the strap of your bra, before it snapped back against your skin. Being sensitive to pain, you lightly whimpered as you felt the stinging sensation on your shoulder, but you still tried to appear unbothered. Bad idea. “Come on princess, you were so much more obedient last night. Do you really need my tongue shoved inside your pussy to stop acting like such a goddamn brat?” You swallowed hard. This wasn’t the kind woman you met just a few days ago. The woman you saw in front didn’t resemble the sweet doctor you hated. This woman made you hot and bothered. “Here’s what’s going to happen” Shoko leaned in, face dangerously close to yours. “I will sit down on that couch over there, and you will lay on my lap. Got that?” “W-why?” you stuttered out. Heart thumping against your ribcage, you both dreaded and anticipated the answer at the same time. “So I can put you back in your place” You watched as Shoko made her way towards the couch, sitting on the soft cushion. “What are you waiting for?” Shoko inquired “Don’t make me come and get you, brat” Brat. That word sent chills down your spine and pussy. You laid on her lap, your ass propped up as you already knew what was coming your way. With a loud clap, her hand made impact with your buttcheek. Your eyes shot wide and a loud whine escaped your lips. “Is this how I have to deal with you?” Shoko mocked condescendingly as her hand collided with your sensitive skin in a hard slap. Teary eyed, you remained silent. You were far too ashamed to be in this position to talk with her. Another harsh slap followed. “I spoke to you, brat. Mommy wants to hear an answer” “No, mommy. I’ll be good from now on” You pleaded with her, tears rolling down your cheeks as Shokos spankings made you soaked wet. “I don’t believe you. I gotta discipline you real good” She followed up with another slap. You knew for sure this wouldn’t be the last slap you’d feel, but you couldn’t complain as with every slap, your panties grew wetter and wetter.

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who gets off of your teary eyed apologies to never behave like a bad girl ever again, your cries of pleasure and pain seemingly appeasing her

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who doesn't need to do much after disciplining you you for you to not tell your dad

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who purrs into your ear "This is a secret between mommy and her pretty princess" the first few times she fingered you inside your bedroom

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who starts a secret relationship with you right after you stopped acting bratty towards her

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who asks your father to stop calling you his "princess" - for you are her little princess now

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who assures your dad that she and you get along just fine while

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who is such a good mommy to you, always sending you gifts when you've returned back to your uni town

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who has a secret folder inside her phone full of you wearing the cute lingerie sets she sent you

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who makes sure you visit her frquently, after all she's be damned if she can't taste your sweet pussy for an extended amount of time

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who keeps physical touch with your dad to a minimum, much rather fucking his cute daughter

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who proves to your dad that you and her are getting along by making you her maid of honor

♡ Stepmom! Shoko whose fingers are knuckle deep inside your pussy right before the wedding ceremony, not being able to resist after seeing you in the cute dress she picked out for you to wear to her wedding

“Keep your voice down, princess” Shoko cooed into your ear, lips lightly pressed to your ear as she fucked her fingers into you. It wasn’t the first time Shoko fingered you like this, body pressed against yours at a semi public place. But this was different. “Mommy, please. He could walk on us any minute” you whimpered out. He being no other than your dearly beloved dad. You knew that what you were doing is bad and perhaps immoral. Who on their right mind is getting fingered by their soon to be stepmom inside of the bathroom right before said stepmom's wedding? You were, but you were far from being in your right mind. And how could you resist Shoko when her fingers stuffed your pussy so perfectly full? How could you resist when her soft lips against your neck made you weak to your knees? How could you resist when she’s the only one that can put you in your place, when she is the only one that knows how to tame a brat like you? Shoko’s fingers moved in and out deliciously, grazing every spot that had your toes curling and breath shorten. While she fucked her index and middle finger in and out of you, her thumb began grazing against your touch starved clit. “Fuck!” You moaned out loudly, feeling the knot inside your stomach growing tighter and tighter. “Mommy, please. Let me cum” You mewled as you felt her fingers thrusting slowly inside your cunt, edging you. “This is what happens when you don’t obey, princess” Shoko lightly bit your earlobe. “Mommy will reward you if you stop being so fucking loud, ok baby?” She pulled her fingers out, lightly pinching your throbbing clit. You clasped your mouth shut with your hand, barely being able to drown out a sinful moan. You bit your lower lip and nodded, signaling to Shoko that you were willing to comply. “Good girl” With that, she plunged her fingers back inside your cunt, thrusting in and out with newfound fervor. “You may cum” Shoko ordered you, and being her good little princess, the knot inside your stomach bursted, leaving you to see stars as tears from the overstimulation escaped your eyes. Shoko chuckled as she saw your fucked out expression. “Now come on, let me help you get ready for my wedding”

♡ Stepmom! Shoko who's so glad your father is knocked out drunk after the wedding, leaving her to properly fuck you

The wedding has officially ended with Shoko marrying your dad, making her your stepmom. Your dad, being way too drunk to consummate the wedding, not that Shoko would want him if she has her pretty stepdaughter do that for him. Your clothes dropped to the floor as soon as you and Shoko were alone inside your hotel room. She has been eying curing the wedding ceremony, admiring how the dress she picked up for you perfectly hugs your frame. Oh, how glad she was that she finally had access to your sweet, sweet pussy. Shoko instructed you to lay down on your bed, legs spread apart as she laid herself on top of you. Instead of looking into your beautiful eyes, Shoko was facing your dripping cunt. Shoko let out an amused chuckle when she dipped a finger inside your pussy. “So wet already?” Shoko lighty pumped her finger in and out of your gushing pussy. While Shoko was amused by how wet you were, she knew that she was just as wet and ready to grind her aching clit all over your face. More importantly, she couldn’t restrain herself anymore, she had to have a taste of your cunt. Slowly, Shoko removed her finger and licked it clean, enjoying the flavor of your arousal. Being mommy’s good girl, you patiently waited for Shoko’s command to eat her out. However, this seemed too hard of a task for you, especially since you were feeling needy yourself. Gripping into Shoko’s thighs, you felt like you were going crazy with Shoko just teasing your pussy and not shoving her tongue inside you. “Mommy, I need you. Please, need you to make me cum. Wanna taste you too” You whined out. “I’m feeling gracious today” Shoko stated before letting her tongue drag across your pussy, letting your juices fully coat her wet muscle. “You taste so much better than my wedding cake” Shoko groaned into your pussy, already feeling drunk off you. “You may have a taste of me as well” That was all you needed to hear. Burying your face between her legs, you circled your tongue around Shokos clit, feeling it twitch and throb at your touch. You sucked on her clit while Shoko was lightly humping your face, needing more friction. You gasped as Shoko thrusted her tongue inside your hole. You already felt so close, and you could tell that Shoko was as well when she humped your face harder. And when you two came, you wouldn’t stop. Bodies glued to one another, neither of you dared to stop pleasuring the other, wanting the euphoria to never end. But sooner or later, Shoko had to go back to her hotel room with your dad. As she kissed you one last time before leaving, you knew that despite everything, you wouldn’t feel sad. For Shoko might be legally married to your father, her heart, soul and body belonged to you, and only you.

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nakahras · 1 month

Text

᯽ wet dreamz • osamu dazai

synopsis • you’ve been having some dubious dreams about one (1) osamu dazai and you let it slip.

warnings • swearing, lucid dreaming, fem!reader, ņsfw, dazai (he needs his own warning, yes), nickname “bella” is used, hair pulling, some light hand stuff/teasing, oral (f -> m), no set dynamic (both parties switch), masturbation (f), clothed sex, edging, finger sucking, slight choking, creampie, overstimulation, pussy drunk dazai, this is a long one >.<, also mildly unedited

wc • 6.8k

a/n • ahahahaha i don’t know

his hands are all over you, all at once, but it’s still not enough. you can’t pinpoint why because in all honesty it should be borderline overwhelming. but it’s not.

maybe you’re just greedy. you’ve been waiting for this for so long that you’ve been dreaming about it. dreaming? something washes over you and, once again, you can’t place it. you shake it off internally. how could you pay anything much attention when what you should be paying attention to is the man underneath you pawing at your skin.

he’s demanding all of your attention and you’ll gladly give it to him. you don’t remember how you got here, or how you got his shirt off but you dip down and kiss his exposed and surprisingly sun kissed skin. everything is blurry, the feeling of his skin under your lips, the image of him shirtless underneath you and the sensation of his nimble fingers kneading at your ass.

before you can overthink it, he gets impatient and guides your hips to grind down on his hardened crotch. your mind is the next thing to become blurry. you straighten up and throw your head back as the sensation of the friction overtakes your senses. you want more, need more.

as if the brunette could read your mind, he’s tugging at your panties. it’s only then that you realize, he’s pantless as well. things felt like they were going too fast and also too slow all at once. you sit yourself back down on his length and continue to grind down on him.

your head is swimming and distantly you hear ringing in your ears. you ignore it though, the sounds of his moans drowning out any other noise. his grip on your bottom tightens and he lifts your hips up expertly aligning himself with your entrance.

he’s about to sit you back down and stretch you out but the ringing gets louder and everything goes white.

᯽•᯽

you woke this morning in a pool of your own sweat — thighs rubbing together desperately seeking out the same sensations you experienced in your dream.

now you’re sitting at your desk feeling extremely embarrassed and, frankly, frustrated that you had yet another wet dream about your coworker, dazai osamu.

you let out a huff while typing up a report on yesterday’s case. of all people in this office it just had to be the most insufferable of them all. why did he have to be so gorgeous? why couldn’t you think the same of kunikida? hell, even ranpo would have been a better choice than dazai. you think your subconscious is cruel. laughing at you, making fun of you by giving you wet dreams. you felt like a fucking teenager. hell, you don’t think you even had wet dreams when you were an adolescent going through puberty. how utterly embarrassing.

you let out yet another exasperated sigh, brows furrowed and fingers typing furiously. you were making a spectacle and your deskmates had long since noticed your sour mood. atsushi and kunikida were the smart ones, they simply let you be, figuring if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up.

dazai, however, is nosey. his natural curiosity always getting the better of him. he builds a simple paper airplane and shoots it through the air. it lands right on your keyboard and your aggressive typing finally ceases. you stare at the airplane as if you’ve never seen one in your entire life. you refuse to look up, fearing that if you look at dazai you’ll be reminded of what your subconscious thinks of him. you don’t think you can handle that quite yet.

dazai watches, slightly perturbed, as you seem to try to make his little creation spontaneously combust. no matter how unsettling, dazai still isn’t deterred. atsushi shoots him a warning look, as if to say this wasn’t a good idea. the brunette blatantly ignores the boy and wheels himself over to your part of the desk, which was a show in itself since you’re on the complete opposite side of where he was sat. that means dazai has to push himself past either atsushi or kunikida. of course, him being the menace that he is, dazai chooses the harder path of going around kunikida.

you don’t see it because you’re still having a staring contest with your little gift but kunikida’s eye twitches as dazai swivels past him. the blonde was going to take the high road though. he was going to let it slide since you seemed to need the distraction. but dazai was clumsy and clipped his wheels on the ones of his partner’s chair. kunikida’s eye twitches and he can’t help himself.

”dazai…” it’s a simple warning. one that the brown eyed detective promptly ignores.

dazai makes it to you without another hitch and gingerly reaches over to replace the airplane with a paper rose.

you blink. stare some more. then finally look up. “dazai, what the fuck?”

“oh c’mon, bella. you’ve been in a mood all day. i thought a rose would cheer you up enough to tell me what’s got you in such a sulky mood.” dazai pouts at you and it takes everything in you to look away for your sanity.

you can feel your cheeks heating up by just the small interaction. if these dreams persist, you’re not sure you can keep your composure. you were barely hanging on by a thread as it was. you distantly think maybe it’s your subconscious telling you that you need to get laid. you almost scoff at the thought.

yes. it has been some time since you last slept with someone, but there is no way that was causing the dreams. if that was the case you would be having dreams about more than just dazai. he was simply plaguing your mind and you think you might go insane if this kept going on.

so instead of dealing with it like a sane person, because you aren’t right now, you decide to take it out on the very man that has been haunting your mind. “i’m trying to get my work done and i’m certainly not in the mood. go bother atsushi if you’re bored, dazai.”

you hear a small complaint come from across the desk and look up to see atsushi giving you an accusatory expression. you immediately feel guilty for throwing him under the bus and finally relax for the first time all day. you toss the weretiger an apologetic smile then whip around to glare at dazai for a moment.

”i changed my mind. you’re buying me lunch at the cafe. let’s go.” you don’t give dazai any time to answer. you save your work, shut your laptop and promptly stand up and walk off. you weren’t going to give dazai any room to argue. you figured if he didn’t follow then he wasn’t that curious and you got to enjoy a break in silence.

unfortunately you hear dance-like footsteps coming from behind you, indicating that dazai was, in fact, following. you both step into the elevator and about halfway down dazai finally opens his mouth.

”so, what’s got a beautiful woman such as yourself in such a mood today?” his smile is lazy and eyes dull.

you hate this. you hate when he acts like this. you do genuinely like dazai, just not this version of him. the shut off version, the one that puts on a facade and plays with people for fun. you don’t have much time to think about it though. the elevator jolts to a sudden stop and dings, indicating that you’ve made it to the ground floor. you scurry out of the small space and make your way to the cafe.

when you enter your mood instantly sours seeing that it wasn’t lucy in today, but rather the waitress dazai is always making eyes at and wistfully requesting her to perform a double suicide with him. you muster up a smile to offer the owner and wave at him before taking your seat at one of the booths. dazai plops himself on the other side across from you.

the waitress comes over and you brace yourself for the encounter that’s about to transpire. dazai watches you closely, head tilting to the side curiously.

“welcome, detectives, what can i get you started with today?” her smile is sweet and you feel bad for your previous annoyance. it’s not her fault dazai doesn’t understand the art of subtlety.

dazai speaks up before you can get a chance to. “go on, bella, you order whatever you want.” dazai addresses his attention to the waitress next. “everything will be going on my tab, miss waitress.”

”how very generous of you, mr. dazai. i assume you finally invested in that life insurance policy i recommended?” her smile is sweet but her words are clipped and condescending. you let out a little snort as dazai starts to sweat a little.

before dazai can quip back, you order. “i’ll take an iced latte and the sandwich of the day, please.”

“of course miss. what about you, mr. dazai?”

dazai almost shrinks at her faux warm demeanor. “i’ll just take a cup of coffee.”

you raise your brow at him disapprovingly and before the waitress can scurry off you quickly get out, “can you make sure my sandwich is cut in half?”

she smiles at you genuinely and nods her head. after she walks off you catch dazai staring at you once again. you know he’s about to speak again and you dread whatever it is that’s going to fall from those surprisingly full lips of his.

“so, are you going to tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist all day?”

nice.

how eloquent of him.

you scowl at him and hiss out, “could you not refer to it as that?”

”sorry, bella. would you rather i ask why you’ve been so sour all day in a different way?” dazai grins at you clearly pleased at getting a rise out of you.

you huff and roll your eyes. “would you believe me if i told you it’s because i had a dream of you?”

”oh? did you now? what was the dream about? you must regale me with all of the details.” dazai sets his elbows on the table in between the two of you. his fingers intertwine and he rests his head atop his hands.

it’s almost eerie, the way he’s looking at you but you can’t quite place why. you wince internally realizing your mistake. how the hell are you supposed to tell dazai that you fantasized about— no. you didn’t fantasize, it was a dream. a creation of your subconscious. not of your control. you want to shrivel up and die.

how the hell are you supposed to explain that to dazai?

you don’t. it’s the only sane reasoning you can come up with. but now you have to scramble to come up with something to dazai. the longer you just blankly stare at him the more suspicious he’s going to get. you can see it in the way his eyes become hooded and his right brow shifts up.

dazai perks up a bit and, oh god, here it comes. the realization you’ve been dreading. “don’t tell me you dreamt about me in that way.” he hums dramatically. “what a naughty girl, thinking about your colleague in such a way~”

you involuntary freeze. sure you knew this was coming but there is no way he saw through you that easily. he came to that conclusion so fast and you know for a fact you aren’t an easy person to read unless you want someone to. he couldn’t have just picked up on your thoughts like that. no, you have to remind yourself this is dazai osamu. he could have done exactly that. regardless, you refuse to admit it to yourself, let alone dazai.

“absolutely n-“ you’re cut off by the waitress dropping off your drinks and the sandwich.

clearly she understood what you meant by your earlier request because she brings you an extra plate. you thank her one more time before she walks off. placing the slightly bigger half of the sandwich on the extra plate and scooting it towards dazai.

“eat.” he looks at you curiously but obliges when you give him an expectant glare.

you know he won’t drop the previous subject but luckily for you he’s too busy with eating to make much conversation. you both enjoy your respective halves of the delicious sandwich in silence. it was peaceful, a stark contrast to what usually transpired when you’re with dazai. you observe him quietly, subtly, as you chew on the last bite of your food.

he’s picking at the bread after only two bites. his coffee was finished within the first few minutes of it being set in front of him. a clear avoidance. keeping himself busy with sipping on his coffee so he wouldn’t have to eat. the few bites were to appease you. unfortunately for him you know all of those tricks, maybe a little too well.

you cross your arms over your chest and think about this tactically, you know if you scold him outright he’ll brush it off easily. you have to think like him for a moment. what would he do if your positions were switched.

playing dumb. “you know, it’s not very polite to let a lady eat more than you…”

you pout and look away from him, trying to seem embarrassed. you’re not sure if it’s worked. you’re honestly too nervous to look. you think it must look real because you’re now actually embarrassed by the probably god awful acting you just displayed.

but then you hear distinct chewing and peak over to something that pleasantly surprises you. he’s taken another two bites, significantly larger than the last two, because he’s almost finished with the sandwich by the time you fully turn to look at him.

for the first time all day you finally crack a smile at him and let out a fit of giggles. dazai almost chokes on the sandwich from the sound alone. it’s a sound he’ll never get used to nor will he ever get tired of it. you’re too busy trying to calm your giggles to notice dazai’s internal struggle as he finishes off his own food all the while staring at you in amazement.

you take a few calming breaths and look at him, still all smiles. dazai resists the urge to clutch his chest, something in it stirs — an extremely alarming and foreign sensation for him. dazais nerves are suddenly on fire. he suddenly recalls what you said earlier, how you dreamt about him. he knows you planned on denying his earlier implications but the way you paused makes him think you were having those types of dreams about him.

dazai’s fingers twitch at his sides. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you like that. hell, he’d probably have the same types of dreams if he actually dreamt. dazai’s breathing shallows and he need to get away from you. his self control thinning with each passing second he thinks about you in the most intimate of ways.

he knows it’s wrong. at least in your case you can’t control it. but here his is, shamelessly fantasizing about you like you aren’t sat right in front of him. dazai disgusts himself. he wants to bash his head in, his thoughts swimming, making it hard for him to focus. vision blurring and ears rushing like there’s water stuck in them.

dazai abruptly stands up and announces, “we should get back to work. kunikida will get on us if we take any longer.”

you’re so perplexed because when has dazai ever cared about what kunikida thinks about? then you notice it, the unmistakable bulge straining against the crotch of his pants. you swear you didn’t mean to look, it was just currently at eye level. you’re suddenly given an opportunity, something you need to make a decision on and quickly.

as calmly as you can, you slide out of the booth and wave to the owner and waitress before grasping onto dazai’s hand and dragging the brunette away with you. dazai is far too dazed to protest at how assertive you’re being. you lead the way to the elevator and the ride there is painstakingly quiet and slow. the second the contraption dings and the doors begin to open you’re slipping through with dazai still in tow.

the lanky man is thoroughly confused when, instead of going back to the office, you shove the two of you in the supply closet. he wants to ask but something tells him he doesn’t need to. your body language gives way that you’re going to explain yourself.

thank god there’s a lock on the inside of this room. you really did not want to relocate to the bathroom for this. dazai is still dazed, unsure of what’s happening, just letting you toss him around like a rag doll. everything is still on fire making him feel detached from his body. the sensation is almost numbing.

“you know what’s so frustrating?” your breathing is just as shallow as his is now. the ride on the elevator working you up far more than it should have.

although he’s detached, your voice anchors him. he looks down at your flushed face and he almost whimpers at the sight. he croaks out, “what is?”

“you. you’re so frustrating. your stupid act, your stupid need to play dumb, your stupid big brown eyes, your stupidly long fingers, your stupidly handsome face and your stupidly careless actions. y’know, you’ve had a hard on since you stood up at the cafe. practically shoved it in my face.” you have him trapped, his back is hitting the end of some shelves.

you don’t touch him yet. you look up at him and gauge his reaction. he seems to be battling with what he should say and you could laugh in triumph. you’ve never seen someone render the dazai osamu speechless, but you just did it with a few suggestive sentences.

dazai takes a shuddered breath collecting his wits before grinning down at you after fully processing your words. “my apologies, bella. that wasn’t my intention, but what is yours? this is quite the damning position you have me in.”

your confidence falters but you quickly recover and click your tongue. “it would be rude of me to not help you calm down… especially if i was the cause.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own proposition. dazai takes a moment. he knows what you’re implying, he’s sure of it, but he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it. after what feels like an eternity— it’s not, you’re just being dramatic— it finally clicks in dazai’s head. you’re being serious, if the look on your face is any indication.

the detective hums and reaches out. his hand cups your face and glides up into your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging just a little too harshly to be considered gentle. he was needy, you could see it in the endless sea of honey that are his irises. something was stirring.

“how am i supposed to say no to that? i’m a weak man, unable to deny a beautiful woman when she makes such an enticing offer.”

you don’t have time to bite back with a witty comment because his lips are quite literally crashing into yours. the second his chapped lips make contact with your own every single touch and action from him comes from a place of desperation. although skilled, his actions are sloppy and almost rushed. his free hand grips your waist and draws you even closer.

your hands land on his chest to brace and balance yourself. you try to catch your breath but dazai is proving that difficult with how his tongue dances along your own. his actions steal your breath away from you and make your lungs burn, screaming for relief and air.

the lack of air and the sensation of dazai’s tongue tangling with your own dizzies your head. you can’t get a proper thought out. instinctively your mouth is moving with his, tongue smoothing over his, and hands fisting at the cloth on his chest but you couldn’t move out of your own volition.

dazai pulls your head back by once again tugging at your hair. you let out an involuntary whimper, making sure to stay quiet as you gasp for air. dazai dips his head down and speaks in between littering kisses on your neck.

“i thought you were going to help me calm down, bella. so far i’m doing all the work and now i’m far more worked up than i was in the cafe.”

his words bring you crashing down to reality and you scowl. of course he would still tease you. he loves getting a rise out of you.

you don’t entertain him, though. instead your hand travels down his torso and starts tugging at his shirt. you pout at him mockingly. “i didn’t realize some mild kissing would work you up so much. ‘didn’t realize you were so sensitive -- so needy.”

dazai wants to quip back at you but as you’re talking you’re undoing his pants and your last word is emphasized by you shoving your hand down his pants. your hand almost falters when you realize he’s not wearing anything underneath. instead, though, you take your index finger and teasingly run it along his length. it feels endless, he’s long, you realize. you briefly wonder just how far, how deep, he could reach inside of you.

dazai shudders at the feather like touches to where he needs attention the most right now. you lean up and with your free hand you tug on dazais collar to bring him down to your level. your breath fans over his ear and, god, he shudders again.

you hum. “‘s this where you need attention right now?”

“yes.” dazai breathes out the word. clearly affected by the way your finger is twirling around the leaking tip of his cock.

you maintain eye contact with dazai as you sink to your knees. the implication alone has dazai’s nerves coiling tighter. he brings his hand up to cover his face, head falling back as he groans. his breathing becomes more erratic as you withdrawal your hand, he barely contain a whimper from falling past his lips at the loss of contact. but you make quick work of shocking his pants halfway down his thighs and finally freeing his strained length.

your mouth begins to salivate involuntarily. his cock is surprisingly pretty and just as you suspected — his length is impressive, definitely above average. the leaking tip is flushed pink and his veins are visibly throbbing. you want nothing more than to choke on it but first, you think you need to tease him some more.

you rest your cheek on his trembling thigh and stare up at him innocently. “osamu.” he could cum, right then and there with the way you say his given name.

dazai looks down at you. the sight in front of him bringing him embarrassingly closer to release. all dazai can muster is a hum of acknowledgment and even that sounds a little pained.

you smile at his obvious desperation. “if i help you out here you need to follow a couple rules. be quiet and no touching. think you can do that for me?”

dazai tries so hard to pay attention to your words but barely registers them. did you say no touching? no touching what? and him being quiet? a bold request of him.

you seem pleased with how quick he is to nod at you in obedience. you waste no time, ready to indulge both of your fantasies. you lick a long stripe along the vein on the underside of his cock. dazai is twitching at the one action alone. how embarrassing of him — you both have the same thought.

the brunette’s fingers itch to touch you but his mind is coherent enough to remember your stipulations. no touching. how cruel of you. to resist that temptation when you’re making him feel this good is just downright wicked.

you don’t miss the way his fists clench in a desperate attempt to keep his word. how could you not reward him for that? listening to you like such a good and obedient puppy. your tongue darts out to swirl around his flushed tip. the taste of his precum floods your tastebuds and you’re instantly hooked like an addict to their drug of choice. dazai’s taste was your new vice.

your lips wrap around his head and you hollow your cheeks. dazai is panting. his head spinning from the pleasure at just the slightest of touches from you. his head hangs back and he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down. he wants to groan, wants to whimper, wants to moan your name. but you’ve denied him that privilege and he has a feeling that you would be merciless if he gave in and disregarded your requests.

you take more of him with each bob of your head and with each stroke of your tongue you unravel the tight coil that had formed in dazai’s stomach. he was already so close. what a sight it would be to watch you choke over him as he spills everything he has directly down your throat. the thought almost undoes him. he bites down on his fist harder and he thinks he may have broken skin.

you observe dazai and it’s all so hot. his pants, his facial expressions, the way sweat is starting to form on his face and cause his hair to stick to it. you can feel yourself getting worked and you’re impatient. thank god the weather permitted you to wear a pencil skirt instead of the usual slack you usually wear. you use your free hand to bunch up your skirt at your waist. the actions makes your movements on dazai’s cock a little sloppy. he hadn’t noticed yet but his brows furrow as if he’s starting to. you try to fix your pace but it’s too late. he is already picking up his head and peering down at you.

you were trying to touch yourself. if his head wasn’t already spinning this is what would be what sent him into a spiral. you had the audacity to call him needy but then in turn do something like this. it was unfair.

Dazai can’t help himself. “bella, are you trying to touch yourself?” it comes out as a teasing whisper. you don’t miss the amusement in his voice.

you suppose you asked him to stay quiet, not to stay silent.

still, your brows furrow and you ever so slightly graze your teeth against his cock. the sensation is something dazai sickeningly loves. his eyes are rolling back into his head and he let’s out a short moan. it’s quiet and you’re quite annoyed that he’s found a loophole.

you can’t deny that his noises aren’t doing something for you, though. you’re even more desperate than before to slip out of your panties. you maneuver around and manage to shimmy them off. it’s almost embarrassing how wet the crotch of them are. you try to care but you just can bring yourself to do so when dazai’s hips begin to thrust and force the small bit of his length you’ve been unable to touch down your throat.

you gag around him and dazai’s grasping at the shelves behind him for leverage. you spread your legs the best you can, being on your knees like this and sneak your hand up your thigh. you can feel the heat radiating off of you. you run a finger through your slick and moan around dazai when the digit brushes your clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck ‘s so good, bella. your mouth ‘s so perfect for me.” his voice is hushed and breathy.

you’re not even listening to his babble as your nose continues to brush against his pelvis every time your sucking him back into your mouth. gagging, choking, on his cock. your eyes are watery, tears spilling from that and the sensation coming from below your pelvis. your finger makes expert work of your clit.

it’s too much.

you can’t breath right, dazai can’t think right, you gag with every thrust, dazai can’t control his stuttering hips, your one hand is playing with yourself and the other reaches up to cup dazai’s balls.

it’s not only too much for you, it’s too much for dazai. the added sensation makes nerve, every cell, every fiber that makes up dazai ignite. he was about to cum, he needed to warn you. he needed to open his mouth and say something but it just flapped, no noise was coming out.

you bob your head back and peer up at dazai, his erratic breathing becoming suspiciously loud. the look on his face is absolutely breathtaking — it’s flushed, almost beet red, tears of his own trickle down his cheeks in droplets. he looked like a fallen angel, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time.

you moan at the sight. fingers traveling down to your entrance and slowly pushing through. you suck in a breath and fold your lips over your teeth to keep yourself from grazing his length with them. the initial stretch feels divine but your fingers themselves aren’t enough. you need dazai’s twitching cock inside your cunt.

you note that dazais cock is throbbing painfully and starts to twitch quite a lot.

oh, you realize, he’s going to cum.

you smirk deviously. you push your mouth down on dazai until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. with your eyes still on him you hollow your cheeks and swallow. dazai almost yelps at the added stimulation. his head snaps up and finally his attention is on you.

“shit.” he hisses, this time a little louder, so you glare up at him. “sorry- sorry but- fuck- gonna cum, please, ‘m so close.”

the second those words leave his mouth you’re backing up and removing your fingers from yourself. dazai let’s out a mangled noise, something between a sob and laugh. it was almost unnerving but the blissed out look on dazai’s face tells you he’s enjoying this game far more than the average person.

you watch his chest heave, his breathing heavy. his face is as red as a blooming rose. you think it’s a sort of beautiful sight to see. dazai never gets flustered, so seeing him like this, you can’t help but to feel special.

you stand up as you pout at him, mock empathy written all over your face. “sorry, did you wanna cum? don’t think i can have that quite yet. not when you haven’t even fucked me. right, osamu?”

there it is again, the sound of his given name falling from your lips. something in dazai snaps. the thread of his sanity that you’d been stretching thin ever since the cafe finally tore in two. his eyes darken dangerously and you only have a moment to realize the shift before he’s picking you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his thin waist. you can feel his stiff cock lightly bouncing against your ass as he flips you around and pins you against the shelves.

his head dips down and he lips scant across the skin of your neck. he’s careful to only leave feather light touches. scraping the rough skin of his mouth on one of your most sensitive areas sends a shock of electricity through your body. you so badly want to tug at his hair but you’re coherent enough to realize your fingers are still coated in your own slick.

you smile slyly at the detective as he peers at you through his ridiculously long lashes. you grab his chin delicately and bring your soiled fingers to his lips. his eyes light up in immediate realization. he wordlessly opens his mouth, tongue lolling out a bit as he happily waits for his treat like a puppy, you can practically see his tail wagging. you let out a breathless laugh, because you think you may be screwed. dazai osamu has you wrapped around his pretty and lithe fingers and you think he already knew that.

you think about making him beg for it but you’re so momentarily mesmerized by the brunette that you find yourself leaning in and gently interesting the digits into his mouth. dazai is quick to appreciate your offering. his lips encase your fingers and his tongue makes quick work of lapping up and savoring your taste.

dazai’s hip involuntarily rut into yours and you can’t help yourself. all the pent up frustration you’ve felt since the dreams started finally gets to your head. you’re desperate to feel him inside of you. a sensation you were always denied of, waking up before actually getting fucked by the very man holding you each time. you reach down to guide his cock then expertly shift your hips and he becomes perfectly aligned with your entrance. dazai is sucking on your fingers but his actions become sloppy as he watches what you’re doing with intense concentration.

you waste no time sinking yourself down on his length, he’s already well coated in your slick and eases into you. you bite on your lip to avoid making any obscene noises but dazai snaps you into reality when he carelessly moans loudly. you panic and shove your fingers further into his mouth. he hums appreciatively and if his hips rocking into yours didn’t feel so good you’d hop off his cock right then and there and leave him blue balled. you could bring yourself to do that though, not when you’ve been waiting for this for so long.

you settle for hissing out, “shut the fuck up, dazai.”

dazai gives you a shit eating grin as he snakes an arm under your ass and squeezes before slowly shifting his hips away from yours, leaving you virtually empty, before sliding himself back into you at the same painstakingly slow pace. he repeats the slowed movements a few times before you’re slipping your fingers out of his mouth and bracing yourself on his shoulders. you try to move your hips on your own but dazai is quick to catch you.

“ah, ah, bella. can’t have you doing whatever you want right now. unless you want me to get louder, you’ll let me set the pace.” his voice is slightly strained and hushed, but despite his seriousness, you can hear the tiniest bit of teasing mixed in.

you let out a whine but resign to him setting the pace. in the meantime your fingers find their way to his hair and tug. dazais hips stutter, showing you that he is far too needy to take full control. taking full advantage of just how distracted he is, you grind your hips into the detective’s with each thrust and dip your head to leave sloppy wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

“shit, you’ve been so wound tight all the time lately that even your perfect cunt has a vice grip on me. it’s so perfect, feels so good.” you can tell how hard dazai is trying to be quiet and you note that you should reward him for that later.

it doesn’t take long for his pace to increase, his rapid movements making the shelves behind you rock and creak. dazai still seems displeased with the pace, his brows knitting together in concentration. you catch his eyes flitting to your neck and lingering there.

you’ve always worn your tie loose, the first couple buttons if your dress shirt undone. it drives dazai mad. your neck and cleavage are always on display in the most tasteful way. he wants nothing more than to run his hand over your velvety soft skin and wrap his nimble fingers around your neck. now that he has the chance to do so, he can’t pass up the opportunity.

your grip in his hair tightens as he shifts you, keeping you up with one arm as he keeps his pace. you have no room to question him when the new positioning has his cock nudging your sweet spot so deliciously. your head becomes dizzy and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

dazai’s hand travels up your body, palm flush with your skin so he can feel every bump and curve. he starts at your upper abdomen and slithers it up. he completely ignores your breasts which you vaguely think was his goal. you have no time to act surprise over it bc his hand is gently wrapping around your neck. he wants to squeeze, fingers twitching, but he resigns to a light grip to simply test the waters.

your response is something he wasn’t expecting. your eyes roll back and you let out a hushed whimper. that’s when he realizes, he wants to do this forever. he wants to fuck you senseless so he can see that beautiful expression on your face forever. so he can feel you tightly wrapped around him forever. dazai wants you forever. the fleeting thought scares him just a little but he has no time to dwell on it because the coil in his stomach is unraveling once again.

“dazai-“ your interrupted by him bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. you think the noises from the kiss alone are far more obscene than the noises from him bullying his cock into you, which is a hard feat considering those are, by no means, quiet or pure.

when the brunette detaches himself he breathes out. “osamu- shit- ‘s osamu…”

“osamu. ‘m gonna cum. so close- please.” you let out a quiet sob as you babble.

dazai has no time to respond. it’s embarrassing, the way he can’t even give you any other warning but him shoving his face in your shoulder, grip tightening around your throat ever so slightly. the whimper he lets out tells you everything you need to know before he starts spilling his cum inside of you.

the throbbing of his cock and sensation of him filling you up has your walls contracting and you’re diving off the deep end yourself. you bite your lip hard. desperate trying to keep yourself from making more noise than the whines sticking in your throat. your vision blurs and and hearing goes muffled as your senses become overwhelmed by your high.

dazai is still rutting his hips into you, guiding you through your orgasm despite his twitches and obvious overstimulation. when you come back to your senses, dazai is whimpering a lot louder than previously. his grip on your neck is lost as he leaves soothing strokes on your side. you tug at his hair to lift his head so you can look at him.

his face is somehow even more flushed than earlier, you’re almost concerned. the look in his eyes though makes something stir inside of you. his glazed over and hooded eyes, completely unfocused. his lips parted as he’s letting out short and shuddered puffs of air. dazai has lost all senses but the feeling of him inside of you.

“osamu. hey- look at me. you need to calm-“ you his when his rutting becomes more intense, thrusts becoming less shallow but hips and cock still twitching wildly, you have to stop him otherwise you’ll both lose yourselves in this supply closet and you can’t afford to do that when everyone is still in the office next door. “osamu we need to get back.”

dazai seems to have regained some of his consciousness. “again.”

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes glimmering in genuine amusement and adoration. “not right now. later. we need to get back. i have a case i need to finish working on.”

dazai finally fully comes back to you and he lightens up at the promise of later. that means this isn’t just a one time thing. something in that back of his head always told him if he crossed that line with you, things wouldn’t be the same, he’d only have one shot. but your words are such a relief he could cry. he can’t help himself, he has to clarify.

“later? after work and… again anytime after that?” his eyes are pleading and hopeful and you can’t help but melt under his soft gaze.

you nod and open your mouth to affirm his statement but you're rudely interrupted by a loud rapping at the closet door. “you two better have not done any of that by my emergency snack stash and you better clean up after yourselves. hurry up, i can't keep stalling and kunikida needs staples.”

ranpo’s voice rings throughout the room. you groan in embarrassment and bury yourself into his chest. dazai lets out a gleeful laugh still dizzyingly drunk on the idea of your promise.

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

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forever--darling · 3 months

Text

say yes to me

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

pairings: anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 12.9k

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

masterlist

song inspo: lose face - daniel di angelo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, but we could be going out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

“Iris…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing’s wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

He was, and yet he drove you crazy.

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

Sure, Anakin Skywalker was just a man.

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

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

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

“You this obsessed.”

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

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

“It’s not like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Anyone worth talking to?”

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

“What?” she shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

He would be the death of you.

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

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

“Nah, you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

A long night it would become.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How many of those have you had?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His expression never faltered, “Yes.”

“Three, maybe four, I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

“Anakin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, it still smells.”

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

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

“Or not. Whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… uh.”

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

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

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

802.

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

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

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

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

There on the top shelf was his fan.

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

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

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

The sounds were louder, your moan breathtaking.

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

“Oh, Anakin.”

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

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

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

“No, fuck, where is it?”

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

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

“I can’t find them,” you mumbled out.

“Find what?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Cole.”

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

What else were you going to do?

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Is that such a bad thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your favorite pair of underwear.

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

“I am looking for something.”

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

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

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

“Help? You want to help me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin,” you warned, hand out stretched.

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

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

“Give them to me.”

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

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

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

“Admit what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, even his dick was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin,” you moaned softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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90sbee · 6 months

Text

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #writer bee #mine #gn!reader #mdni divider by #@/cafekitsune #divider and support banner by #@/saradika

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yourdoorisunlocked · 3 months

Text

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 3

𝐀/𝐍: Yup, we're getting into it now. Remember that this man is literally a cannibalistic serial killer who convenes with dark spirits and shit.

But I think that just makes him more attractive tbh.

Btw this man is like 6'1 in this story in his human form, so do with that information as you wish. ;)

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟕𝟔𝟖 𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐖: Descriptive gore, sacrificial rituals, just Alastor-coded shenanigans and levels of down horrendous I'm embarrassed to share... 😭👍 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: - ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛꜱ | ᴘᴀʀɪꜱ ᴘᴀʟᴏᴍᴀ - ꜱʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ

. . .

There was always a moment when Alastor had to take a small smoke before finishing off his prey, allowing the adrenaline of the hunt to wear off as he reveled in his latest kill.

A gentle evening wind brushed against his ears, ruffling his cocoa-brown hair as he smiled up at the full moon with teeth as white as its luminous surface. Translucent curtains of gloom drifted past the celestial orb of night, just as the scent of a marshy swampland drifted up and enveloped Alastor in its nostalgic, wistful aroma of home.

Though he relished the private, intimate moments he spent with you, times like these, where his mind could simply slip away from the drag of life and reflect upon the day, were as precious and rare as gold.

Alastor simpered to himself as he fixated upon you being the star-struck little darling you were, mad with elation to finally be able to watch him host his radio show in the studio you both worked at. And he imagined you’d needed such a treat, after your delightful breakfast at that restaurant you’d wanted to try out for so long.

It was too bad. Alastor quite liked that cozy little diner. Oh, well.

Perhaps you could work there yourself, now that a fresh, new spot for a job had opened up at the restaurant, perfect for a lovely little doll like you. You wouldn’t have to deal with your rather overbearing supervisor anymore, who gave Alastor much more leeway than you.

Ha! Who was he kidding? Like he’d ever let you take so much as six steps away from him, from the safety he could provide.

He couldn't have you running around willy-nilly, gaining the attention of unworthy scumbags, after all!

Then again, Alastor didn’t mind the image of you rushing around, serving him ever so politely in one of those form-flattering, tight waitress uniforms that had swept New Orleans recently.

But that was an experience for him, and him alone. Besides, the reverie of having you as a pretty little assistant would do just fine, for now. Perhaps he could bring that idea to fruition, someday.

Oh, one can only dream!

With a last puff of smoke that condensed in the chilly night air, Alastor disposed of the cigarette and ground it into the dirt path with his heel. Maybe he could use an assistant around the studio; being the most charming, captivating voice in all of Louisiana wasn’t easy, after all!

Plus, it meant more alone time with you, and your dazzling, melodic voice, and that divine smile that he could only wish to be blessed with. He drank it all up, your enthusiasm to be in his presence, your witty yet flustered company...

God, he could just eat you up–

Muffled groans and wails broke him from his peaceful midnight musing, and he turned his attention towards the small shack he used. Normally, he’d relish in such helplessness from his latest kill, though his patience was wearing thin, tonight.

But Alastor needed this one to be alive. The Loa didn’t favor cold, dead prey.

Then again, it never complained of the condition its scraps were in. Only that Alastor could provide any.

“Why, hello there!” The radio host’s air of exuberant showmanship rolled off him in waves as he stood above the crumpled form of the waiter who had insulted Alastor’s very being with his rotten presence.

A throbbing pain at the front of his head where he had been knocked out with a bat ached painfully, and he cradled his wound with an anguished groan.

“Ouch! That’s got to hurt, ha-ha!” Polished western-style shoes thumped against the wooden floor of the shack as Alastor made his way over to his victim, before bashing his head against the floor, reveling in his pained groan before he slumped in Alastor’s grip.

“Hm, a bit meatier than I had expected... He’ll have quite a feast, tonight!” A dark chuckle, laced with venom and coated with mirth filled the small room, and Alastor hoisted the body over his head and dragged the unconscious prey out into the forest.

Darkness enveloped the waiter’s mind, like a weighted blanket upon his consciousness as the pain worsened, before fading as his body gave out.

. . .

The sound of shoveling and short, exhausted huffing awakened him as he slowly came to, and the wintry night air brought him from slumber like the bony, thinned hands of Death itself.

Shadows danced around his vision as his eyes fluttered open, and the light of Alastor’s lantern roused him fully awake. The quiet croaking of frogs, and the midnight lullaby of chirping crickets filled the otherwise eerie silence. A large, wilting tree hung over him, where moss and fungus sprouted from each branch as its hanging leaves reached down to him and the scent of dampened swampland baffled his senses.

W-Where... Where the hell am I...?

Alastor watched with an amused smile as the pitiful lad tried to raise a hand to hoist himself up from the dirt, only to struggle for a few moments against his cursed restraints that bound him to the forest floor.

Slim-fit gloves tightened against the handle of his shovel as Alastor leaned against it with a condescending grin, moonlight bouncing off his glasses as he looked down at the pitiful prey.

“Oh, please don’t struggle too much. I did go to all that trouble of tying you up, after all,” Alastor cooed from his standing position above his victim, like he could possibly escape from the rune-encrusted stakes he had been bound to.

“Now, be polite...

And say hello to my old friend, for me.”

A gust of wind howled around the pair, bringing Alastor’s attention towards the crooked trees standing tall against the swamp. The bushes rustled softly beneath its branches, when suddenly, a buck jumped out from behind the bramble, kicking at the dirt and eyeing Alastor’s little summoning circle with curiosity.

It was a shame he hadn’t brought his hunting gun; those magnificent antlers would’ve been a dazzling addition to his collection.

Also, the idea of impressing you with such a display had Alastor catching himself drifting off into his fantasies yet again. He really needed to stop doing that. You were turning the demented radio host into a moony-eyed sap, and in the middle of a sacrifice, no less!

The deer slowly trotted towards Alastor with its head tilted in confusion as it eyed him, regarding the man with caution.

Slowly, the radio host lowered himself into a respectful bow, and the buck reciprocated. It strayed a little closer, and a step too far proved to be its undoing.

Crack.

The busboy jolted with each snap of bone within the animal's body, the grotesque sounds echoing across the forest. The deer grew suddenly limp and collapsed upon the forest floor as the waiter’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“W-What...? What the fuck is that!?” Alastor ignored his victim’s struggle behind him as he kicked at the chilled, marshy dirt with his bare, scabbed feet, hoping to create some distance between himself and the massive, horned beast that was forming rapidly.

A futile effort, really...

An animalistic screech of anguish would be the last sound that the deer ever made, as it finally fell completely under the control of whatever unholy beat had been foolishly summoned into existence. Shadows flooded the inside of the poor animal, hollowing it out at a rapid rate, and the unseen horror took its puppet upon a sleeve to speak to the mortal who summoned it.

Whether it was utterly foolish or terribly sadistic was a true mystery. A gamble that made these little summonses the least bit entertaining, particularly if it was the latter.

The sound of groaning wood echoed across the forest as two large, crooked antlers bent towards the sky. The creature’s hanging ribcage protruded from the gaping hole in its stomach, revealing bloody, mossy innards riddled with mold and buzzing flies that gluttonously fed upon the mangled buck's entrails.

An ominous emerald glow shimmered within the buck’s maw, and two stark-black eyes fell into its open mouth, before sliding down its tongue

The deer's organs were promptly squeezed out of the corpse's slit belly and dropped onto the ground as the carcass thinned dramatically. A puddle of thick, glistening liquid that was much too dark to be considered regular animal blood had gathered beneath it.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Squelch.

Tarred, ashen-gray skin glimmered underneath the moonlight, as a guttural roar shook the forest, leaving the branches trembling with terror. Alastor stood before the beast with his hands crossed behind his back with an unbothered, almost bored expression.

As the Loa stood before him in its complete, beastly form, Alastor brushed off an imaginary speck of dirt from his coat sleeve before opening his arms up to his old friend with a wide grin that nearly split his face in half. It had been a while since he’d borne witness to a proper summoning.

“Quite a good show, my friend! Captivating as always,” Alastor called out cheerfully, clapping once or twice in emphasis.

“Ɱվ ƒօɾʍ էąҟҽʂ էհҽ ìժҽղէìէվ օƒ ҽąçհ ʂօմӀ էհąէ çąӀӀʂ էօ ʍҽ, འօէէҽժ ටղҽ,” the Loa's voice answered his old friend in a deep, gravely rasp from the mutilated buck's unhinged jaw. It stood proudly on its hind legs as it hunched over Alastor with a low rumble, and the stench of rotting flesh overpowered the natural, swampy scent of the forest, to the radio host’s distaste.

“Then I do hope my soul has been quite the treat to replicate!” he clasped his hands together behind his back, folding his arms tightly behind him.

“చհվ հąʂէ էհօմ çąӀӀҽժ ʍҽ հҽɾҽ, մքօղ էհìʂ ղìցհէ?” Its impatience wore thin as it looked upon the setting of the candlelit circle, and the pleasant aroma of fresh blood brought the Loa’s attention to the young man tied up behind Alastor.

“Why, of course! How impolite of me to keep you waiting,” the excited glint in the radio host’s eye evolved into a look of complete madness as he gestured to the poor sap behind him, who gaped up at the Loa’s ghastly form in horror.

“Presenting the main course for tonight, this pitiful little insect that I had the unfortunate displeasure of stumbling upon! Though it seems this chap appears to be faring far worse than I!” A cynical chuckle dripped from his thin-lipped grin as he bowed before the Loa like a true showman.

Alastor hadn’t even noticed he had been rambling like a supervillain, monologuing about his latest victim as if it were a typical evening hosting his radio show.

“įէ ʂҽҽʍʂ էհօմ հąէհ.. φҽɾʂօղąӀ հìʂէօɾվ աìէհ էհìʂ օղҽ,” the Loa rumbled thoughtfully, now circling the panicking prey as he thrashed in his roped constraints.

“Ah, just a little disagreement, is all. Apparently, manners are no longer an important matter of discussion within one’s own household,” Alastor ‘tsked’, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “A shame, truly.”

“įէ ʂʍҽӀӀʂ ƒɾҽʂհ,” the horned creature inhaled deeply, stinking putridly of decay as he bent over the trembling busboy, its skeletal back cracking and snapping as he further hunched over. Its victim blubbered pathetically, shaking his head as hopeless tears spilt from his eyes while he choked out helpless pleads.

“Ꝉìҟҽ… Ͳҽɾɾօɾ…”

In a flurry of shadows, the Loa pounced upon its feast, rumbling with fervor and gluttony as its fangs tore through flesh, ripping its prey apart as it aimed for the meatiest bits of its meal.

The agonized moans of the damned that protruded from the Loa's maw conducted the symphony of terror, and the screams of the disrespectful runt carried the harmony as Alastor stood off to the side, relishing the gory display.

When the Loa had finished, a long, blackened tongue licked its chops as it rumbled in satisfaction. It turned towards Alastor, who bowed before it, as was a respectful custom whenever the God finished its meal.

"Ͳհìʂ աąʂ զմìէҽ ʂąէìʂƒąçէօɾվ. చհąէ çąӀӀʂ մքօղ էհվ ʂքօղէąղҽօմʂ օƒƒҽɾìղց, էօղìցհէ, ȺӀąʂէօɾ…?"

"Oh, I was just taking out some trash. Honestly, you're doing me quite a favor, old friend! Think of it as a celebration for our friendship," Alastor grinned impudently, before bidding the Loa a silent farewell as he turned on his heel.

"Now, I'm afraid that our time together must be cut short. I have a little darling to check up upon, and she is quite the feisty one, I'll have you know!" Oh, how perfectly this night had ended. Ridding himself, and you the trouble of ever dealing with such a pest ever again, and cuddling up to you while discussing your day over dinner, and ending it with a-

"చհօ ìʂ ʂհҽ?"

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his smile beginning to strain and actually make his cheeks ache as he half-turned back to the Loa. Fuck.

It seems that his utter enthusiasm for running his mouth about you has overridden his reasoning.

"Whatever do you mean, my friend? Don't tell me you've taken a liking to my darling?" He pointed a teasing finger at it with a wide, knowing smirk that bordered upon a warning.

The god eyed Alastor with pure contempt, before huffing impatiently and nodding towards Alastor's house in the distance.

"Ƕҽɾ. Ͳհҽ βɾìցհէ ටղҽ. చհҽղ հąʂէ էհօմ ƒąӀӀҽղ ƒօɾ ʂմçհ ƒɾìѵօӀìէìҽʂ?"

Alastor stubbornly clasped his hands together behind his back and stood tall as the ancient god bent down towards his level, empty sockets glowing an emerald green and practically blinding him as it asked again.

"į աìʂհ էօ ҟղօա օƒ էհìʂ… ժìʂէɾąçէìօղ էհąէ հąʂէ էհҽҽ ìղ ą ҍìղժ ʂմçհ ąʂ էհìʂ," for the first time in thousands of years, the god's interest had been caught. Quite a peculiarity, considering that the Loa did not care for petty mortal matters that Alastor would rarely partake in himself, but the mention of a girl brought slight surprise to it.

And judging by the glimpses the ancient being took within Alastor's mind, he could understand why the radio host had taken such a liking to you.

Like the sway of wind, by the bloom of daffodils, you were akin to a wicked, unruly summer wind sweeping up sea salt and touching the hearts of those you met, everywhere you went.

A rare commodity, in a corrupt world such as this.

"Oh, well I suppose I must've slipped the word about her. Well!" Alastor placed his fingertips together as the memory of first meeting you surfaced in his mind.

"I'd be happy to tell you how we met! It all began when I came across the darling little Doll in a charming diner. I'll tell you; the place couldn't have shined as much as it had without her presence, ha-ha!"

The eldritch horror noted the complete adoration that swept the normally deranged man off his feet. Alastor’s animated announcer's voice and occasional jazz hands did all the talking for him as he spoke of you.

The spirit never thought it'd see the day...

"She was certainly efficient at her job, as well! Carried the entire restaurant on her back, in my humble opinion," of course, Alastor was completely biased in his reasoning. He'd take any excuse to sing your praises all night.

"Why, she even gave me a shock when she rolled into the building with a pair of skates, one Thursday afternoon! Quite the compliment to that stunning dress pattern, I must say..."

How curious, that the boy the Loa had met all those years ago, the one who seemed to have no such interest in pursuing relationships, who outwardly expressed disgust at the mere thought of being touched found someone like you to keep him company.

"So, I decided to give the Doe a chance at my radio station, and we immediately hit it off!" The radio host's smile nearly cracked his face in half as he fondly recalled his first meeting with you, and the spirit tilted its head to the side.

How strange, indeed...

Well, now it just had to meet the girl who had captivated Alastor so and sprung upon this new sacrifice earlier than what was expected of him.

Then, the Loa nodded towards the direction of Alastor's house in the twilight, softly hitting its hoof against the ground with an insistent thud.

"į աìʂհ էօ ʍҽҽէ հҽɾ. į աąղէ էօ ҟղօա ահąէ ҟìղժ օƒ ʂօմӀ հąʂ çąքէìѵąէҽժ էհҽҽ ʂօ."

Alastor slowly turned towards the beast, whose antlers seemed to grow even larger in return, sensing the human's challenge.

"And what makes you believe that you have a right to meddle in my life, if it does not offend you to ask? Her soul is not yours, and her heart shall soon lie with me."

The Loa huffed, before bowing its head towards the maddened, lovesick mortal. How foolish, the way such silly human matters have clouded the ever-articulate mind of one of his oldest acquaintances.

Honestly, what did Alastor think it was going to do? Snatch you away from him?

Like it'd ever get the chance.

"βմէ ìէ ժօҽʂղ'է. ហօէ աìէհìղ çմɾɾҽղէ çìɾçմʍʂէąղçҽʂ. į çօմӀժ ƒì× էհąէ, հօաҽѵҽɾ," The Loa rumbled, knowing it was pricking at a soft spot as the young man shot him an unamused glare with a raised eyebrow.

"į ʂհąӀӀ ҍҽ ժìʂçɾҽҽէ, օƒ çօմɾʂҽ. Ⱥ ʍҽɾҽ ìղէҽɾƒҽɾҽղçҽ ƒɾօʍ ąƒąɾ." Alastor scoffed and fully turned to the Loa with a sneer darkening his too-wide smile, his teeth seeming sharpened in the glint of the moonlight.

To the Loa, Alastor appeared merely to be a puppy baring its pint-sized fangs.

"Ha-ha! You seem to misunderstand me, my friend," he stepped boldly towards the beast, his hands folded behind his back with half-lidded eyes that dared it to cross the very clear line he had drawn.

"I believe you have crossed a bit of a line, there, implying that I do not own her heart," the radio host sneered; a threatening grimace hidden behind a thin mask portraying a cheeky, unbothered smile. But the underlying threat was clear. You were not to be touched.

Honestly, Alastor reminded the Loa of another, more ethereal being it had met long ago. Madly in love and willing to do anything, preform any atrocity, to protect his fleeting fancy. Looking back, he was rather short for someone of his status, and impossibly pale, having a sort of 'heavenly' hue to it.

How ironic.

The Loa looked upon the human with slight amusement dancing within its soulless, ominously glowing sockets. The mortal held such determination, such drive to keep you solely within his hold, a kind of devotion it hadn’t seen in centuries.

Such a pitiful display of favor for his new toy had the Loa truly interested, now. It was sure that Alastor would do anything to keep you, anything to win your affections.

Of course, good things came to those who waited. And so, with a soft nod, the Loa dropped the subject.

“Ⱥʂ էհօմ աìʂհҽʂ. Ͳհօմցհ, ʍìղҽ օƒƒҽɾ ʂհąӀӀ ʂէìӀӀ ʂէąղժ."

“Duly noted.” And with that, Alastor’s clipped tone snapped through the air, cutting off the conversation entirely. The distant hum of insects whispered against his ears as he waited for the Loa’s dismissal.

"ƑąɾҽաҽӀӀ, འօէէҽժ ටղҽ. į հąѵҽ ҍմʂìղҽʂʂ ҽӀʂҽահҽɾҽ.” Finally, the Loa turned away from the mortal, its shadows dropping the corpse of the deer and vanishing from the scene. Alastor paid no mind to it, however, as there typically wouldn’t be any human nor animal remains, come sunrise.

The god fed gluttonously, after all.

Alastor swiftly turned on his heel and started back upon the path. “Adieu, my good friend! I do hope we’ll see each other again,” as he strode further away from the ghastly terror, all mirth had evaporated from his voice, leaving a biting cold edging at his words and rivaling the winter chill as he neared the house.

But every step closer to you thawed his heart as he strolled through the bramble, choosing to shove away the thoughts that mulled over the Loa's offer. That would be something for 'Tomorrow Alastor' to deal with.

It wasn't long before he had finally made it back to the house, confidently striding across the forest as if nothing had ever happened, and Alastor slipped through the front door, brief as the wind and quiet as a shadow.

He was quite disappointed to see you had left for a bed, and his heart panged with guilt at the thought of you solemnly retreating to your quarters when you realized Alastor was probably working late tonight.

It was far from the truth, but it'd suffice as a good cover.

I'll make it up to her tomorrow.

Carefully, Alastor crept up the stairs, avoiding each loose board and step that would creak under the pressure of his weight.

Then, after seeming to have climbed a mountain simply to get upstairs, he slowly opened the door to your room, his hands clenching the doorknob to the point where it'd snap in half from his vice grip.

Alastor took steady, silent steps over to your bedframe, standing over your soundly sleeping form with a lovesick simper.

Since when had he grown so infatuated with little ol' you? Was it when you ran up to him with stars in your eyes and that beautiful, kissable smile plastered on your face after you listened to his podcast from start to finish? When you raved about how amazing it was, how captivating he sounded?

Moonlight was cast over your form, painting a pale, sleek canvas of stardust over your skin as Alastor drank in the sight with trembling fervor.

Leaning over, he took a hand and carefully twirled a lock of your hair around a slender finger as he stared down at you adoringly.

"Darling... what are you doing to me~?"

As Alastor bent down to nuzzle your loose hair, your scent hit him almost instantly, and he groaned softly as the room became so hot, so unbearably tight as he became ever aware of the throbbing bulge tightened against the confines of his trousers.

With a heavy, forlorn heart, and an aching erection he'd soon have to tend to, he pulled away from your slumbering form, and brushed a stray lock out of your face.

A warmth crept up to his cheeks as you leaned towards his familiar touch, smiling softly at the mere touch of contact as you mumbled incoherently in your sleep.

"Mmmph... Alastor..."

With a tender, close-lipped simper, Alastor placed a chaste, tender peck to your forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my Doe~."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: So, I lowkey lied, saying it was gonna be a shorter chapter...

AND THIS ONE ENDED UP BEING EVEN LONGER LMAO 💀💀

I'm sorry, making these longer ones are so much fun, and I can't for the life of me shorten any paragraph or story I'm working on. Even the end notes are an essay long lmao.

Anyway, thanks for reading, as always (～￣▽￣)～

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor x reader #possessive behavior #he's just sacrificing innocent people no biggie #obsessive love #and lowkey watching you while you sleep #but he's a silly 6'1 dapper lil deer man and i love him #banner by cafekitsune #dividers by cafekitsune #yourdoorisunlocked

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sykostyles · 2 months

Text

let you love me 1.1

wc: 4.5k

summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine! harry x grumpy! afab reader part one, three

a/n: welcome to part 2! I thought I would be done with this in two parts but the words just keep coming out of my brain. so there will be one more part to this! (and its already been started!)

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!! I can't believe this many people are interested in my brain child. I hope you all enjoy this part as well!

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

Not much has changed in the apartment above the bakery, a good bit of your belongings remained here after you moved in with Jackson. You were thrilled when the gentleman who sold you the business told you it included the unit upstairs. “How perfect?” you thought. Slowly but surely you’d ended your lease on your previous place and made the arrangements to live above the bakery. You spent all of your time there anyways.

The last time you were here flashed through your brain and made you grimace. Images of wet lips, clashing teeth.. hands exploring curves.. All flashing in your mind. You’d been out with Jackson for your anniversary and neither of you could wait until you got back to your shared apartment, so a bit of a pit stop was made. But having those thoughts of Jackson at this moment only make you want to throw up the sweets you’d tested earlier.

Peeling your clothes from your body, you make your way into the shower and the spiraling thoughts ensue. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be loved the way I am? Is it actually me? Am I really the problem? Why? Why? WHY?? Sliding down the tile wall, your knees come to your chest and you just sob.

Twenty minutes turn into an hour, into an hour and a half and then nearly two hours. You’d been in there so long you didn't even realize the water had turned ice cold. You were numb to everything.

A knock on your door startles you out of your stupor. Quickly, you shut the shower off and grabbed a towel. “Nobody even knows I'm here,” you think to yourself, making your way to the door. Glancing through the peephole you see your best friend, Carly, looking rather distressed.

“Y/N I know you’re in there.” No, you don’t.. “Your car is outside.” No, it’s not.. “I can see the shadows of your feet at the bottom of the door.” No, you can’t.. “Y/N, open the door. Jackson said you took off when I came looking for you.” No, I don't want anyone to see me like this. “I know you can hear me, don’t make me call in a wellness check. You know I will.” Memories of officers knocking down your door at 3 am when you wouldn’t answer Carly's “are you alive?” messages flashed in your brain.

Your hands shoot up and unlock the deadbolt, swiftly opening the door for your friend to step inside, closing the door with a click behind her.

She turns to look at you, taking in all of your features, Severely swollen eyes, tear stained cheeks, and the frown weighing on your lips.

“I’ll kill him.” She says, turning towards the door. “No!” you object, reaching out to grab her arm. “Please, d-don’t leave.” You say, demeanor crumbling. Your legs begin to shake as you start to cave. Carly reaches out with both hands, stabilizing your arms. “Woah, okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” she says as she guides you both to the floor, pulling you to rest on her front. “Everything will be okay.” she says. Will it? You think to yourself.

Carly was someone you met in your first year in college. Now she's a 27 year old journalist. Originally she was your freshman year dorm mate. It was instant friendship. I mean instant. You would have thought your first interaction was two friends meeting up again after not seeing each other for a while. Accompanying each other to frat parties, skipping classes together, what have you. Where one was, the other wasn’t too far behind. She helped you get over some of the darkest times of your life.

Losing both of your parents at the age of 20 isn’t something anyone should ever have to deal with, but having Carly by your side made it a little easier. She also didn’t judge, or object when you decided to drop out of college your junior year after their passing. And when the opportunity came up for you to buy the bakery, she knew owning it was your all time dream so.. she handed you a check for 5k.. saying it was her way of investing in your passions. Granted, the bakery wasn’t located on the Amalfi coast in Italy, but your shop where you’re at would have to do for now. You were grateful for her to say the least.

Jackson? Hated her. She tried to make you see your worth. Carly? Also not a big fan of Jackson. “Ugh a J name? Have I taught you nothing?” She’d joked with you when you told her about him. Even after you’d told her about his constant attention and nice gestures, she still wasn’t convinced. “They all just have that type.” she’d started, making you roll your eyes. “AND he’s a professional football player? Y/N!”

“I finally want to give a guy a chance again, and this is your reaction?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go for it, I'm saying to be careful. These guys all have a reputation.”

“Carls, I swear it feels like he’s different. You don’t see the way he looks at me.”

“Babe, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Famous last words.

After half an hour of Carly consoling you on the floor against your apartment door, she peers down at you, noticing your sniffles had quieted. You’re staring off into space while your thoughts just race.

“Hey, I love you and all but my legs are seriously starting to cramp.” She says, breaking the silence. You chuckle softly, being broken out of your haze. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling yourself to your feet slowly.

“You go get dressed, I’m going to make you a cup of coffee.”

“You don-” “Ah ah ah, go.” She says, turning your shoulders in the direction of your bedroom. “No objections.” You make your way down the short hallway. Silently thanking yourself for not taking every single article of clothing with you when you moved in with Jackson.

Settling on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, you make your way back to Carly.

“Now, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” she says, holding a mug out to you across the island, “but you know I'm here to listen whenever you’re ready.”

You grab the mug from her grasp, and look down into it. “Am I too rough?” You asked timidly, not looking up.

“I'm sorry, what? Too rough? What makes you think that?” She questions, head tilted to the side, You give her a look that can only be summarized as “what do YOU think?”

“Did he seriously say that?”

“Mm, amongst other things.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. “Apparently I need to be more obedient.”

“I swear I’ll kill him.” Her fist slammed down on the countertop, making you jump.

“He’s not worth it.” She reaches out, placing her hands over yours. “No, but you are.” You offer a smile at that. Though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, do you want to talk about it?”

You nod. “Yeah. I just.. need to mull over it in my head first.”

“How about I order us some of your favorite take out, pick up a bottle of our favorite wine, and we can have a night on the couch like we used to? Watch some terrible rom coms?”

“That sounds.. Wonderful, Carls. Thank you.”

“Course. What are best friends for? Now, you go get us a sweet treat from downstairs and pick us our first awful movie. I’ll be back in 20.” She says, placing a friendly kiss atop your head and ruffling your hair on the way out.

After Carly’s return, you both promptly made home on the couch you’d spent most of your college nights together. She listened to your recount of what happened.. More threats to Jackson’s life were made.. Of course you quickly reeled her back in with the wine bottle. Promises to be there for whatever you needed were made, not that it needed to be said. She made a wonderful distraction for you for the rest of the night.

But night turns into day and unfortunately, life moves on. Whether we’re ready to or not.

Carly makes sure you have your morning coffee before she has to make her way to her “big girl job” as she puts it. But I guess anyone with the privilege of working for the biggest sports magazine would make anyone feel a little intimidated by their job.

You begrudgingly make your way downstairs a little before your opening time and started setting all of your tools you’d need for the day. Going about your daily morning routine, trying not to let the gnawing feelings in the back of your head bother you as you help your few regular morning customers. Your favorite was probably Henry; a little old widow who always buys a peanut butter cookie to share with his very friendly pitbull, Rocco. He says peanut butter cookies used to be his wife's favorite, so he eats one every day to feel close to her. That story nearly ruined your day when he told you, but he immediately scolded you for crying. “Now, none of that. Life happens, dear. Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” His words didn’t seem to help you much right now, but you know he’d be scolding you for letting this affect you this way.

“Good morning, Mr. Henry. Rocco. How are we today?” You ask, reaching down to scratch behind Rocco’s ears.

“Oh, just peachy dear. Rocco had his yearly visit this morning and is in need of his reward.”

“Well, it’s not much of a reward when he gets one every day, Mr. Henry now is it?” Raising your eyebrow at the gentleman as you wash your hands.

“Ah, there she is. Good morning to you too.” He chuckles. How are you doing today, dear?”

“I gotta be honest with you, Mr. Henry.. It’s a rough day. Probably going to be a few rough days. But I know I’ll manage just fine. Especially if seeing you and Rocco is something I have to look forward to.”

“But won’t you be closed tomorrow? For the championship game?” He questions, handing you the cash for his payment.

Your heart sinks at the thought.

Crap.

"People will wonder why I'm not there and it’s going to start spreading. Everyone is going to know what happened. Or at least Jackson’s version of what happened. Maybe I should make a post letting people know. No. They won’t care. Who am I kidding of course they will. They all act like high schoolers. Am I going to be posted all over social media? How is he going to spin this? Or will it go quietly? Knowing Jackson, he’ll demand a press relea-"

“Y/N? You alright?” Henry’s worried voice snaps you out of your steady spiral.

“Yeah, sorry.” You sniffle. The back of your hand coming up to wipe the tears that had escaped. “Um, no. I’ll be open tomorrow. I won’t be at the game. Or any games for that matter. Jackson and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to lie, I know you hated him too.” You push out a strained laugh.

“Well, yeah. He inhibited my ability to buy cookies on some sundays. And he was no good for you. But I'll spare you that lecture for now. I can see you’re upset.”

“I probably need to hear it, to be honest.” You say.

“One day, maybe. But you do your best to get through the day.” Picking his cookie box up from the counter he continues, “Fix your face though. No more tears. You have cookies to sell.”

You chuckle. “You got it, Mr. Henry. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course, dear. Have a great rest of your day. See you tomorrow, let’s go Rocco.” He says before he’s out the door, pitbull in tow.

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face and bring yourself back down. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you force yourself to smile and wipe the excess water off. “Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” You say to yourself, making your way out of the bathroom.

Spinning the cake on the lazy susan once it was done being decorated was always your favorite part. Seeing all of your work just perfectly pieced together, every flower laid perfectly, every swirl placed intentionally. Cake decorating was your main passion, but you picked up everything else along the way. Baking and decorating ran in the family after all. Your grandmother bought you your first cake kit, your first big kitchen aid mixer, got you your first cake decorating job at 15, etc. She really helped you form the love that you have for the craft now. Before she passed away when you were 18, she would bring you to this very bakery nearly every weekend to see the different cakes in the case. You owed your love for the craft to her, and you try to show your appreciation to her every day in your work. Always learning new techniques and trying new ideas. Your current obsession was learning this new palette knife technique where you quite literally paint the flowers on the cake with a palette knife. It’s turning out to be quite tricky, but Nana didn't raise no quitter!

You’re boxing up your last order of the day, back facing the door. The little bell sounds, “Hello! Welcome. I’ll be with you in just one moment!” You say, closing the last bit of the box down.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Love.”

Wait. That voice. That nickname.

Placing the box in the order cooler, you finally turned to the counter, taking in the man before you. You being shocked is an understatement, The man you face planted into yesterday was standing in your bakery.. Waiting for you to speak.

Speak, Y/N, Speak.

“H-hello. Can I help you? You manage to get out.

“Well, what’s good?” He asks.

Weird.

He’s not going to bring up yesterday?

You scoff. “I’m the owner. So it’s all good. But I might be a little biased.” You say, wiping your hands on your apron. “But my cupcakes are my best sellers.”

“I see that, your case looks well picked over.” He says, walking over to the display on his right. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Mm, probably the red velvet. They’re my number one. Chocolate peanut butter is my close second.”

“Everything is homemade?” He inquires with a raised brow, and a smirk of course.

“What do you think?” You challenge. Seriously, what is your problem, y/n?

“I’ll take one of each then.” He says with a smile, walking back to the counter.

“Coming right up.” Boxing them up carefully, you set them on the counter. You tap a few buttons on your register and give him his total. He hands you his sleek black credit card, making you internally scoff and roll your eyes.

“Thank you for stopping in. Have a great rest of your day,” You say, turning away from the counter.

“You don’t remember me?” You hear from behind you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.

“Oh I do, but if I'm being honest, I just don’t really care that much. Have a great day, Harry.” You say, rounding the corner into the back room.

You hear the little bell sound again, signaling he left.

“Why are you like this?” you say to yourself.

The following few weeks were a blur. Nothing major came of you not making an appearance at the championship game. A few comments made on social media, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Just block and delete.

Henry and Rocco made sure they made their daily stop to see you of a morning. Henry even brought you a coffee from that shop down the street a few times.

Carly stopped by every day during her lunch break to check on you.

“You know you don’t have to babysit me, right?

“I know, but how else will I get my daily cupcake?” She laughs, peeling the paper off the bottom of said cupcake.

Someone else was also making a daily stop, much to your dismay.

You and Carly were sitting at the little table with two chairs you have by the big shop window, just chatting about each other's day when the doorbell chimes, pulling your attention from the conversation.

Looking towards the door, you immediately roll your eyes. “Just, give me a minute.” You grumble to Carly before taking your spot behind the counter.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Emerald eyes bore into yours as you spoke.

“Good afternoon, Love.” He smiles warmly at you, “I’ll take the same as yesterday. Seems those were a hit for my friend Ryan out there.” Glancing over his shoulder you see Ryan standing outside the door.

“He can come in too, ya know.” you say, boxing up his order. “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” you huff, smirking as you set the box in front of him.

“Mm, well, until you tell me your actual name, i’ve got nothing else to call you.” He says, handing you that same sleek black card. “Plus, if he comes in I can't have all your attention on me.”

“I’m wearing a name-tag, Harry.” You roll your eyes. “Bring Ryan in next time. I could use a break from you.” You smirk, handing him his card back.

“Reading your name-tag is different than you telling me your name, love.” He chuckles at you rolling your eyes again. “Ryan stays outside until I hear it come from you.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Harry.” “Must be why I’m so successful. I always get what I want.” He states matter of factly.

“Mm, and is that all you want?” You muse, raising a brow at him.

“On the contrary. There’s a plethora of things I want, but we can start with your name.” He smiles warmly at you.

Your breath hitches at his words. “It's Y/N.” You breathe out, his grin grows ten times in size.

“It’s lovely to officially meet you. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He states, picking up his box and making his way out to Ryan.

“What. The hell. Was that?” Carly muses from her spot at the table. You almost forgot she was here.

“That was Harry. He stops in every day. A right pain in my ass.” You say, plopping down in your chair.

“That didn’t seem like he’s a pain in your ass.” She starts, “Could cut that sexual tension with a knife!” she squeals. “Who is he?!”

“I have no idea. I quite literally ran into him a few weeks ago, and he’s been coming in here every day ever since. He’s a massive flirt as well. But I’m not interested.”

“It didn’t quite seem like you weren’t interested. You were hanging on every word he was saying.” “I was wishing he would leave.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N. He’s into you. I can tell.” “Maybe so, but I'm seriously not interested. I’m good with being by myself for now. It’s barely been three months, Carls.” “I know. You’ll make that jump when you’re ready.” I’ll never be ready. “Where did you say you met him? He looks so familiar.”

“Uh, I actually met him for the first time at the stadium. After all that happened with Jackson.”

“Does he work there?”

“No idea, babe. I ran into him right near the parking lot. I don’t even know if he was coming or going.”

“And then he just showed up here the next day? Kinda weird.”

“I agree. It could just be a coincidence. My business does have a pretty good reputation.. If I do say so myself. but it makes my brain hurt trying to think about it.”

“Agreed. But be careful. I still don’t like that you’re here alone all day.”

“Ah, but Jesse is returning from school in a few days so I will have my help back.”

“Oh good! I liked him.” She stated, standing from her seat. “Well babe, I have got to get back to the office. I have a few articles to finish and send off before the end of the day. Same time tomorrow?”

“Of course. See you tomorrow. Love you long time!”

“Love you more!” She says, making her way to the exit.

About another week had passed, and it’d been the same old same old. Jesse, your seasonal help, returned from school for summer break a few days ago so you haven’t been as lonely throughout the day. He was thrilled when he found out that you and Jackson were no longer a couple.

“Good, there are so many other better players out there that you could shack up with.”

“Jesse! Stop it right now.” You exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter. “Don’t make me mess up this cake.”

“I’m serious, Y/N! There are so many quarterbacks out there that don’t get sacked 12 times in a game. Or we could branch out to other positions on the team. What about a tight end? Or a linebacker if you like them bigger.”

“Oh my god, Jesse!” You cackle. “I don’t need you to play football match maker for me. I’m done with all of that.” You chuckle, setting your bag of icing down on the counter.

The doorbell chimes, breaking both of you out of your fits of giggles, and Jesse made his way up front.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” You hear Jesse ask.

“Oh, good morning. Is Y/N here?” That voice only belongs to one person. He’s early.

“Yeah, she’s actually finishing up an order. I’ll let her know you’re here. What’s your name?”

“Harry.’

“Got it man, be right back.” He says before disappearing around the corner where you stood. “Hey, there’s a guy named Harry out here for you?”

“Oh. Yeah, give me just a minute. Or you know what, can you finish this? Just needs a leaf here and here, and then it goes in its box in the cooler.”

“You trust me to finish a cake?” His eyes widened.

“It’s a few leaves, Jesse, not a rose. Just don’t fuck it up, and you won’t die. Simple as that, really.”

“Oh yeah, simple.”

“I have faith in you.” You say, rounding the corner. “And how can I help you today, Harry? You’re quite early.”

“Good morning to you too, Love.” “Harry, I’ve told you to stop calling me that. You know my name now,”

“I know, but I enjoy watching the lightning spark in your eyes when I call you Love.” He smirks at you.

Your cheeks flash a light pink. “What can I do for you today, Harry?” You mutter out.

“I’ll take one dozen of the red velvet.”

“Ooh, big spender. You’re gonna clear me out of my red velvet for the day. Do you and Ryan have a big sweet tooth today?” You joke, placing the cupcakes into their respective box.

“Not quite, I have a meeting and I promised a treat from this bakery I discovered a few weeks ago. Haven’t shut up about it. I never shut up about the owner either. She’s awfully pretty.”

“You’ve gotten quite bold, Harry.” You muse, sliding his order across the counter.

The doorbell dings again, pulling your attention from the man in front of you.

“Good morning, Mr. Henry, Rocco. I’ll be with you in just a minute.” As the words were leaving your mouth, Jesse emerged from the back room.

“I can take you over here, Mr. Henry.” Jesse claims, leading him to the other side of the case. Before following him, Mr. Henry sets a coffee cup down on your counter,

“Here you are, dear. Thought you could use that today.” Mr. Henry smiles at you.

“Thank you, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to keep doing that.” You scold.

“I can do whatever I want, thank you.” He smiles, taking his stand down with Jesse

Turning your attention back to Harry, you give him his total.

“That doesn't sound right. Shouldn’t it be more?” He questions.

“Mm, nope. I give a discount when you buy twelve at a time.” You say, handing him his card back. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Harry?”

“I can think of a few things, but we have an audience. Naughty girl.” His words make you go red in the face, nevermind the pink tinge from before.

“You are insufferable. Have a great meeting.” You say, stepping away from the counter.

“See you tomorrow, Love.” He says before promptly heading outside.

You don't even realize you're smiling.

“Well now I have got just about a million questions.” Jesse’s voice startles you on your left.

“I second that,” Mr. Henry says. “Now what is it you kids say these days? Oh right. Spill.”

“Yeah, what he said. Spill, Y/N.” Jesse said, backing up the elderly man.

“Both of you are terrible. There’s nothing to spill.” You say, turning to wipe off the counter.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Jesse says.

“I know you might not be able to tell, but I was not born yesterday, dear. I know something when I see it. Now just who was he?” Mr. Henry quips out.

You chuckle. “I promise, he’s nobody. He’s been coming in here every day. He’s got a little crush on me, I will admit that, but I’m not looking for anything right now. Jackson still has me all messed up in the head.”

“Okay, but they say the fastest way to get over a guy is to get under a new one!” Jesse exclaims, “You never know what you’re miss- OKAY OW.” He says when you snap him with a towel.

“Now, I wouldn't listen to Mr. Horn dog over here, but maybe someone new is what you need, dear.”

“I hear you, Mr. Henry, I’m just not ready for that just yet. I appreciate both of your concerns though. Have a great day, Mr. Henry. Rocco.” You say with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. “Jesse, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right back.” You disappear up the staircase to your apartment.

“Maybe we overstepped.” Jesse says to Mr. Henry.

“Perhaps, but maybe she needs someone to push her to that step.”

“I think I’ll take a step back from that. I don’t want to lose my job. She’ll get back out there when she’s ready.”

“I suppose you’re right. Have a good day, Jesse. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good one, Mr. Henry.”

Mr. Henry and Rocco make their way outside, settling on a bench right down the street from your shop.

“Mr. Henry, was it?”

“Who’s asking?” He responds, looking up at the person in question.

“Names Harry. Harry Styles. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” Harry asks, extending his hand.

“Mm, is this about the owner of that bakery down there?” Mr. Henry inquires.

“Would it be a problem if it was?”

Mr. Henry laughs, and takes Harry’s hand in his, giving him a firm shake. “What can I do for you, son?

thank you for reading! please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed <3

taglist: @stylesfever @olipoli21 @hermionelove @st-ev-ie

#harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #mdni banner & dividers both by @/cafekitsune

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jqnehr · 3 months

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𓂃₊ ⊹ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

⟡ ꒰ 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 ꒱ ⨾ he plays along. you want to be smart? two can play that game. he’s better at staying silent than you. although a bit confused at why he’s so content with remaining quiet and not whining about the attention you’re keeping from him, it doesn’t take you long to work out why. zayne’s probably glad to have a moment of reprieve from your seemingly unceasing chatter (that he enjoys, though he’ll never admit it) to read, work or eat in peace. so, it ends with you breaking the silence, and him giving you the silent treatment. he’s too slick for you.

⭒ ꒰ 𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ꒱ ⨾ is absolutely sure he’s done something wrong. did he say something that struck a nerve without him realising it? is it because he threw your favourite t-shirt into the hamper last night? or is it because of the last two pieces of bread he burned in the toaster this morning, since he can’t cook to save his life? xavier wants to ask you why and what’s wrong, but he’s a bit afraid to. you get this wild glint in your eye whenever you’re pissed, and it actually scares him (but he’ll never admit it because, come on—him, a seasoned soldier, essentially, who kills wanderers without a blink, is afraid of his girlfriend? yes. yes, he is). so he gives you space, looking like a kicked puppy, and you fold, feeling awful about it. all’s well that ends well.

⊹ ꒰ 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 ꒱ ⨾ not only is he a yapper, but he’s a nagger. he’ll pester and pester and pester you, until you actually grow annoyed, and the silent treatment becomes real. then, he’ll leave post-it notes stuck around the place, with cute little illustrations of chibi-you with devil horns and fiery breath, and some of your favourite snacks next to it. rafayel’s like a little kid sometimes, with his pouting and whines and puppy-dog eyes, which never work on you. he spams you with texts of cooking videos, saying ‘we should make this tonight’, as if you guys have the ingredients to. ever clingy, he silently wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face into your neck, and you don’t have the heart to reject his touch. he’s an idiot, but when he sends you cat videos on an hourly basis even though he hates them, maybe he isn’t so bad.

im back with yet another cringeass headcanons list. this is me while writing this and y'all while reading it 🔥

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whispers-of-lilith · 3 months

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Sugar Daddy

You: Welcome home!

Doffy: Glad to be back princess, cmon let's go to the throne room, I bought you quite a few gifts while I was away.

You: Aw, baby! You're such a good sucrose father to me~

Doffy: What... what the fuck did you just call me? You wanna run that by me again?

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nakahras · 2 months

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᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

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

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forever--darling · 4 months

Text

me & the devil

summary: anakin skywalker was the chosen one, the jedi to end the war once & for all. he was and always had been the chosen one but plagued with a darkness & a sense of passion like no other. once princess of bakura, now a padawan in training, you can't help but feel the force weakening upon the confines of your soul, challenging the trajectory of the jedi being forbidden to form attachments at the mere sight of the young man.

its as if you can feel it, feel him windling, wading away to the dark side, & yet you're the only one. after all it was said that every hundred years, there is a ripple within the void of the universe, a connection like no other, wrote out in the stars like fate.

pairings: attackoftheclones!anakin x princess!reader | revengeofthesith!anakin x jedi!reader | anakin skywalker x padme amidala (mentioned)

word count: 37.5k (updated: 23th of january)

warnings/notes: soulmate au, very slow burn, angst, swearing, violence (takes place in a war), mentions of death, mentions of sex, lord vader!anakin, oblivious!anakin, unrequited love, possibility of smut eventually

masterlist | requests are closed [unless they will be blurbs]

attack of the clones

00. the princess of bakura 01. young padawan 02. the chosen one 03. spoken code 04. senator amidala

revenge of the sith

#divider by cafekitsune #banner by cafekitsune #anakin skywalker series #star wars series #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin masterlist

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90sbee · 6 months

Text

Pull the rope, choke me with your love.

Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader 6k words (yeah, sorry not sorry). Also on a03

It feels like coming back to the surface, you think. Leon breathes loudly, panting. He kisses each boob once more, tenderly, resembling a “goodbye”. You look at his motions with half-lidded eyes, and you’re unable to move your gaze away when he detaches from your body, his hand re-emerging from your cunt with traces of your dried blood on his skin. You gasp but Leon barely notices it, rubbing the maroon strokes against his tactical pants swiftly, without any complaint, as if simply getting rid of paint after handling a canvas.

Both of you choose to delay the mission. Maybe it is because there is a confession that you can’t delay anymore.

I guess this is what happens when you get horny in your period. @navstuffs saw it first. @emilzke, you'd say you'd read something like this so, in case you feel like it! (No pressure tho, mean it!!) Content: Smut. Period sex. Everybody is a switch. (Sub!Leon my beloved). Sex with feelings bc the mutual pining is strong. There is some plot but like, it's mostly smut, ngl. No use of y/n, tons of pet names. Stupid banter, age difference. DI!Leon specifically since I don't think any other version works? Hints of size kink, as usual. Coming in pants. Dry humping (sorry not sorry there is no actual penetration in here. They do have a good time tho. Multiple good times). Warnings: +18 ONLY. Have I already mentioned blood? Yeah, it's not that bloody tho, I promise. Hair pulling, crying during sex (i promise Leon was enjoying it, tho, no dorks were hurt in the writing of this fic), mentions of choking but no actual choking in here. Biting, scratching? I'm not a native English speaker so, apologies for any mistakes.

Being around Leon always felt like pulling a rope, the material tense, and tense, until letting go of the rope would cause you two to be hurt.

Oh, but what a delightful way to go that would be.

Missions with him would be easy. Well, as easy as putting your life on the line can be. His presence was always a blessing, a protective wall of a man always up to keep you safe. And he did it, numerous times he received cuts, and got bruises on his skin, and once even let his bicep —that one that he would always touch obsessively since then— kiss a bullet, everything to keep you safe.

Even out of missions, Leon was there. He would remain close, check on you. “Gotta make sure my partner is alright,” he’d say, and the way he’d accentuate his words would get you dizzy at times.

The rope felt more like a red string now.

Caging you, his warm body on top of yours now, barely attempting to remain prude.

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he had said, closing the distance between you two. The whole mission today had been a fiasco, even if Leon had been eyeing you more intensely than other times, stepping closer, more protective than usual. It had actually been his idea to turn back when it became glaringly obvious that infiltrating into the building would take more hours than you had planned. Retracing steps, radioing for back-up that would take until the very next morning to show up with more ammo, and finishing with the directions to a nearby safe house, which was sadly devoid of anything helpful to endure a fall night like this. “Don’t worry, they say body heat is actually the best heater,” he’d teased you, as you buttoned up your light jacket. But when he’d actually pushed you onto the ground and clumsily climbed on top of you, you knew he was serious. And though it wasn’t the first time you two had ended up so close, bodies tangling in each other, it was the first time he seemed so devoted to get that physical contact.

You let him have that. The night is not that chilly, the morning is not so far away. In the bleak, scarce space of the cabin, there aren’t many options. Sure, you could spend the night talking yourselves awake, back to back. Or maybe one of you could rest their head on the other’s lap as the other keeps a lazy guard.

But you choose to be close. Fucking close, breathing in each others’ faces. You know by now that the rope is about to cut, that you’re going to end up crossing the limits, but for now, there is no stopping. In the secluded safe house, you let Leon breathe close to your ear, pretend you don’t realize what he may need. After all, you followed him way too compliant today, no ifs or buts about delaying the mission, resting your head against his shoulder as he radioed for the damned helicopter, letting your hand graze his on the way to the cabin.

Maybe neither of you want to wait anymore for the rope to break on its own.

“You okay?”

He sighs then. Brows furrowed as he nods, his expression serious.

“Yeah,” his voice is raspy, a lingering exhaustion dripping from his words. “Just wished we could have finished with this already…”

Your hands swiftly move to his back, fingers rubbing softly over the thin material of his jacket. Leon melts a little at that, breathing against your face. A soft growl escapes his throat when your hands move higher, pressing against the muscles of his shoulders.

At that, he does seem to feel a bit flustered, looking to the side, towards the rusty cabin door. You attempt to hide the chuckle that leaves your mouth.

“What’s so funny?” He snarks, his cheeks already pinker.

“You’re literally a whore, Kennedy.”

“Jeez,” he raises his eyebrows, finally looks back at you. “You’re being an absolute darling tonight, huh… ” he muses, a smirk crossing his face.

“It’s your fault. You’re the one that decided to get on top of me, unprompted.”

“… C’mon. You know we didn’t bring any camping equipment for this crap… Just lemme take care of you.”

His explanation is, of course, true, but teasing him seems like a better pastime for this chilly night. “Well, still. I’m a lady with boundaries. Maybe I do not want a sweaty man on top of me.”

“Excuse me?” Leon licks his lips, his face leaning a little closer to yours now. “I’m not just a sweaty man, I’m your mission partner.”

“Yeah, my mission partner that decided to moan after I just massaged his back a little.”

“God, I did not moan,” he puffs out his cheeks, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe you should.”

A silence rings through the cabin as soon as you utter those words. Much to your surprise, but not regretting them. Leon stares at you, gaze unreadable as he tilts his head. You begin to feel a little nervous, your hands slowly abandoning his back.

Why would you even admit it that way? Too straightforward, too blunt. Yes, he is your mission partner, he’s got your back all these years but… What if it was just that? A good partner at work. Simply a kind man. The possibility of having confused his chivalry with affection makes you feel stupid.

You suddenly feel small under him, and you gulp, trying to squirm away from him.

“Wait, no. What did—what did you say?” He finally reacts, one of his hands cupping your cheek now.

“Nuthin’.”

“Didn’t sound like nuthin’ to me,” he presses.

Leon looks at you, and there is a new glimmer in his eyes. A certain hunger, encompassing his words and his presence. It invigorates you with a sort of bravery, and you nod, very slowly, your eyes not even leaving his. Your hands go back to their place, on his back, but this time under the jacket, under the grey t-shirt he is wearing. You observe his reaction, as a little prey seeing how much she can test the waters before death comes upon her.

His gaze moves away from your eyes, lower, until it reaches your lips. And then your hands ascend on the skin of his back, scratching slowly.

“F—fuck,” is the only thing he can manage out before his lips descend onto yours, kissing clumsily, biting the tender flesh with desperation.

The rope has fucking snapped now. You both know it. And it stings, but the burn is good, so fucking good, as his teeth bite harder, as if eager to make your lips bleed.

“Since… since when?” He demands, catching his breath.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Since always,” you reply, kissing him once more, already missing the taste of his spit, the roughness of his mouth.

It’s as if oxygen was running out of the room, mind dizzy with him, his smell, his hands now attempting to reach under your t-shirt, but you move away, mouths parting for a moment. Leon stops, a question in his eyes. He knows you. He knows the way you react, can notice that he hasn’t overstepped anything, that your trembling figure is still comfortable under him.

“Just… you. Lemme… lemme touch you,” you try to explain, in a daze, hands now gripping his hips, and he groans against your ear. You take off his jacket, strong arms getting caressed while you do so. Leon breathes heavily as your fingers dance on his jaw, as your mouth licks his neck.

“Shit,” he lets out, every single pleasure point in his body reacting to your actions.

God, he has wanted you for so long. Trapped between his job and the impossibility to properly care for you, to have you in the way he actually desired you, he had promised himself to protect you. In and out of missions, a shadow always behind you. If he would have nothing else in his life, so be it. Just your presence would be enough. His heart is thumping, rattling loudly in his chest as the woman he’s adored for so long presses her affections on his skin.

He moans louder, hides his face against your shoulder. Lower, his cock twitches, rapidly filling up with desire.

“C’mon… Grind on me, Leon,” you murmur, words sweet as a spell.

God, if this was a dream he’d never want to wake up. And if he had somehow died, this was better than any Heaven he could have imagined.

“What are y—are you fucking serious?” He tries to inquire through heavy breaths, already losing his mind. It doesn’t even cross his mind if you would want to go further, if he could sink deep inside you, but rather, his brain is mush from just the idea of having you like this. Fuck it, your invitation sounds like a blessing to him.

“Please… You’re so good to me…” you add, needy.

He growls again, but in the way a wounded animal tries to scare its hunter away. He is fucking broken, deliriously split apart into a thousand pieces because of you. At your feet, drunk in your smell and your minx-like hands.

You move your pelvis, legs interlocking around his hips, the feel of your cargo pants against the hardness between his legs making you whine.

God damn. He is already hard anyway.

Leon obliges, as if enchanted by you, unable to refuse such a delicious proposal. Your hips move in tandem with his, and his hard cock aches in his pants, grinding slowly against your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” he whines out, as your fingers then graze the skin on his back once more, deliriously making him lose his mind. “Gonna kill me, huh?”

You bite his jaw once more, wetness pooling between your legs with every moment. It is funny, how hours before the dark cabin seemed to be a cold refuge, yet now it seems to ooze warmth, sweaty bodies full of desire.

And though this Heaven seems way more than a man like him could bargain for in a hundred lives of sainthood, Leon breathes heavily, suddenly aware that this might be wrong. It might be, since you’re younger than him, and he has been your mission partner and you two work together and mission partners cannot be involved and—

“No, we—we shouldn’t…” he stills himself then, voice heavy.

You look up at him, gentle eyes blessing him from underneath his body.

God. You look so beautiful and his heart is gonna jump out of his chest and he wants to continue but you will surely agree, right? You’re too young, too soft of a creature for someone so broken like him and—

“Why?” you caress his back slowly, tilting your head.

The openness of the question throws him off his mind.

“Well, we… I mean… I…”

“We can stop if you need it,” you quickly add, nodding. You want him, yeah, but most importantly, you respect him. It is the least he has earned, after all his loyalty throughout the years.

He gulps, and shakes his head.

“No, I do want it… I just—” Leon huffs, licking his lips, still in disbelief.

“Leon… I want you. Been waiting for this… Been craving you,” you try to explain it in devotion terms, a language you’ve both shared for a while. He seems more relaxed at this, and hides his face on the crook of your neck, his breathing steadier as you stroke his back.

“I promise… Promise it’s not just about…” he begins, but you nod.

“… I know. I mean… I imagined so,” you admit, belly heating up not just from his weight on top of yours.

A confession.

He stays quiet for a moment, arms flexing as he changes his position, lets himself fall a little closer to you. It’s clear he won’t ask for it again, but god, you do want to give it to him. Boner already needy, body too vulnerable to be left like this.

Once more, you do it for him. Move your hips gently, chasing the pressure he provides against your cunt. Leon then moans, kissing your neck.

“I… I can?” he asks, tentatively.

“Yes, please.”

He won’t ask more, no need to ask twice. Though his brain may be hazy and overwhelmed by your perfume, he knows nothing could compel him to stop this, not now that he knows you want him.

Your hands return to his back, scratching the skin harshly, noticing how his breath hitches.

“Oh, god,” he coos, closing his eyes. His pelvis dancing harder against yours, movements faster.

Leon finds your mouth once again, trying to kiss his shame away since he already feels so close. In between the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a long while and the fact that, heck, it’s you… He is trying his hardest to stretch the moment, to not ruin it already…

But you do notice it, of course. When you pull apart one of your hands goes to his jaw, forcing him to look at you.

“Leon.”

“Fuc—yeah?”

“Ask me… ask me for anything you want… You deserve to feel good.”

He fucking growls at that, so entranced by your words. His hips suddenly stopping for a moment, his heartbeat accelerating.

He has almost come.

“Pull my hair, please,” he breathes out after he is sure he can continue for a bit more.

Swiftly, your hand moves to his hair, grabbing a strand at the back, near his nape and pull hard.

“Oh, fuck,” his movements are faster now, cock rubbing too harshly against his underwear and his pants but he needs it, needs you so much. You pull his hair once more, your other hand clawing at his back as you also grind against him, the spot between your legs already dampened.

The sensation feels like too much and not enough at once. It hurts from how sensitive his member is, rubbing himself raw against your legs, but oh god. You offer him the hottest sight he has had the pleasure of witnessing in his life.

He presses his face against your neck once more, panting next to your ear, unaware that he is painting your skin with his own tears.

“Gonna come… Fuck, gonna come,” he cries out, moving faster and at some point you grind against him too, pressure becoming too much as you pull his hair and, fuck.

His elbows almost give up, unable to hold himself properly on top of you, but he avoids crushing you with all his weight still, as he rides out his orgasm, now tasting the salty tears he had spilt.

Leon breathes heavily… but he doesn’t want to stop.

Quickly, his mouth sinks on your neck, kissing and biting, causing moans to leave your throat.

“Le—Leon,” you pant, body sensitive and wetness already ruining your pants.

“Need to touch you… please? Need to taste you…” he begs, and one of his hands goes to your belt, buckle released as he nears your zipper…

You groan then, in frustration, and he frowns, gaze back on your eyes.

“What is it?”

“I’m… I’m on my period,” you admit, barely a whisper.

You look at him, shame crossing your features, the bitter reminder that your body may have ruined the moment that you have dreamed about for so long. “Sorry,” you add, voice timid.

“Hey, no, no apologies,” he immediately coos, his hand travelling to cup your cheek. He looks at you with an immense softness from his glistening eyes, full of love. Leon sighs before moving forward, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks, close to your mouth.

Your thoughts are hazy, body still churning from inside. It’s clear that you don’t want that option but you’re unsure on how to proceed under this situation.

Leon rests his forehead against you, his face awaiting for your reply. There is no rush in his tone, quite the opposite in fact. He looks at you as if willing to stare at you for his whole life, existence content with just the sight of you. That gives you more confidence, even with the threat of uncertainty on the horizon: you trust him. You trust him more than anyone else.

You shake your head.

“Good girl,” he praises you. “I’ll just make you feel good, take care of you, okay?”

His voice is raspy, but soft, resembling his touch. A little harsh, a little rough as he pulls the zipper down and wriggles your pants down. Yet the pads of his fingers are exquisitely tender, caressing your thighs. Your underwear sports a huge damp spot just in your gusset, but Leon seems blissfully willing to ignore it, even through your heavy breaths.

He moves lower, pulls your t-shirt up slowly, immediately kissing the flesh of your hips.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curving your back.

“Attagirl,” he moves to kiss the other hip, biting slowly.

You moan then, skin shivering under his motions, his touch.

“… You’re teasing.”

Leon chuckles, kissing near your navel as he rubs your sides and your arms.

“You know, I don’t hear you complaining, though.”

Ah, he is acting cocky now. You giggle, amused at his remark, while one of his hands rubs your inner thigh.

“Bet you’re so frustrated that you can’t touch more,” you shake your head, looking down at him.

“Who said I can’t touch more?” Leon says, raising his eyebrow.

“Wh—Oh,” you try to ask what he has in mind when he swiftly moves his hand straight to your cunt, rubbing your clit over your panties. “F—fuck.”

The sonofabitch… You close your eyes, body slowly tensing under his touch. Leon rubs a little faster for a moment, and you move your hips, breath hitching in your throat.

“This okay, baby?” he checks, motions slower and gentler.

“Yeah… Yeah,” you open your eyes, nodding. He looks up at you, places a kiss on your belly once more. Your hand moves to tangle in his hair, needing something to ground yourself before you get lost in him.

“I got you, I got you,” he says, gentle, so fucking gentle you could melt in his hands, as snow under a strong relentless midday sun. You sigh, trying not to overthink your situation, how at any point your body could embarrass you, end up staining your panties with blood or…

“You’re nervous,” Leon says, serious.

“I’m not,” but your voice is a little shaky.

He snarks. “Can’t make you come unless you relax… Do you trust me?” Leon moves closer, leaning forward, almost against your face once more though he never stops rubbing your clit. The motions make you delirious, contact too soft but so good… You mewl, dizzy.

“I do. I trust you.”

“Good,” he remarks, and he kisses you. You notice his hand moving from your panties to your back, his mouth biting your lips with delicacy as Leon unclasps your bra. You whine at that, but he keeps on kissing you, his presence overtly strong and reassuring on top of you. Yet he doesn’t feel overwhelming, but rather, comforting. Like a wall against which to rest, like a pouring rain after a dry summer.

You think you love him. You’re quite sure you did before, but when he moves his mouth lower, biting your jaw and licking your neck as his thumb gets lost under your panties, you’re certain that no man could ever own you in the way he does. Handling your body with the most utter softness, as if dealing with a piece of Heaven. His thumb dances between your legs, stopping just on your clit, and Leon starts circling it, again, and again, and again…

“Oh, shit,” you moan, your heartbeat racing. You can barely keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by his devotion. His touch is desperate, even more heightened by how much he licks your neck, kisses it.

“Doll, look at me,” his words are heavy and clingy.

“Ye—Yeah?” you feel so utterly broken already. Leon moves his thumb faster, the circles making you moan once more.

“Want to use my mouth, can I? Please?”

By now you don’t know what he means, but you immediately nod. Like you’d do during missions, when you would simply take a leap of faith, you let yourself jump with him, letting him guide you to wherever he deems more appropriate.

You already trust him with your life. What difference could this make?

“God… so gorgeous,” he beckons, more to himself than to you, smiling. He quickly moves your t-shirt and bra out of the way, before diving his mouth to your breasts. There, he licks, and kisses, tongue painting your nipples with his saliva, as if blessing your body with his sin, letting you shower in his desire.

“Fuck, Leon…”

He continues moving his thumb gently, and you’re about to moan when you feel his middle and ring finger dancing on your lips, toying with your entrance. “Shit” more of a complaint, your tone raspy. His thumb presses harder against your clit as the other couple of fingers keep the sweet motions, never diving inside you. The thought of him probably getting his fingers messed up with your blood crosses your mind, but then Leon bites your nipple, before lovingly pulling it between his teeth. His thumb is now moving faster, circles rougher on your most sensitive spot, as the other fingers keep teasing your opening.

Your moans are the loudest symphony filling up the room, mixed in with the way he whines, mouth obsessed with your breasts. You curl your back, your hips getting hazy and desperate as Leon increases the speed of his movements.

You wished you knew which good deed you committed in another life to be blessed in this way now. As careful as possible, you grab onto him, as your hips are now dancing against his thumb, chasing after his touch. You’re half-breathless by now. You scratch his back, his arms, sink your nails into his nape as he bites the other nipple, sucking it harshly.

“Gonna come, God….” you whine out, thighs trembling under him.

“Good… Please, come for me,” his tone is the farthest thing from a command, but it seems to drive you exactly there. The way he desires you, desires this so fucking intensely… The heat in your stomach sweeps away with everything as he licks around your nipple and his finger toys with your clit once more. You melt under his touch, coming obscenely loud for him.

And the worst thing is that he continues, his mouth hungry still, his fingers circling, rubbing up and down your abused flesh, until you cough under him, unable to whimper anymore.

“It’s… Need a pause,” you let out, barely able to utter words yet.

He doesn’t fucking care. A man used to dealing with death, and grim and pain. It’s not the first time that he’s felt the warmth of your blood, as he has patched you up after the most gruesome missions, as he has held your bloody hand after you cut it with a sharp glass at home. He doesn’t fucking care, but rather he feels relieved, the comfortable knowledge that, this time, the blood has nothing to do with you being hurt. This time your blood doesn’t feel like knives digging into his skin, him boiling with concern. It’s just a warm reminder that you’re safe, and alive, and that he is finally touching you in the place where’s imagined himself drowned with you a hundred times already.

This is real. Leon is not dreaming, not this time.

You breathe out, calmer, his gaze feeling like returning home.

You’re still catching your breath when he leans closer, kissing your forehead.

“You okay?” he mumbles out, concern in his tone.

“More than okay,” you smirk.

Leon chuckles, amused. He lets his body fall on top of yours, still in between your legs, and he searches for your hand: takes it in his, the thumb that so much pleasure had brought you now caressing your palm.

“Babe…” his voice is sultry, and as he moves your thighs open with his own, you immediately notice the hardness pressing against your leg. Still, the contact seems too much for him, and he whimpers against your neck, his actions devoid of any shame.

“Damn, Kennedy, again?” you tease under him, cheeky stare defying him as he looks at you.

“Mhmh,” he replies. “I understand if you don’t want me inside, but…”

You cut him off with a wheeze. “Fucking subtle you are.”

“Hey, you want me to be fucking explicit?”

“Sure, let’s hear it, big guy,” you hold his hand tighter, as if prompting him to attempt anything, but immediately his cheeks go a few shades pinker. “Ow, getting shy on me?”

“You’re being fucking cocky for someone who just had an orgasm. Maybe I should give you another one to see if you calm down,” he lets out, eyes deeply boring into yours.

“Is that the special treatment you give to the ladies you sleep with, huh?”

“No, just you,” he replies, gallant.

You can’t say you don’t want it. Leon kisses you again, his tongue licking your lips and you moan for him. He squeezes your hand as his other hand goes between your bodies, to his zipper. You can barely notice the belt unbuckled, the zipper falling down. He bites your lower lip and maneuvers his pelvis closer to yours.

Fuck it. He just wants you. Whatever the duration of that miracle is, he wants to enjoy it, to pleasure you again, to be as close as the moment allows it. Even if this was the last time in his life he has you, he would commit this sight —of you under him— to memory.

He loves you: wants to get you drunk on him, on his body. A silent conjuring, a way to win you over. Because God knows you have him wrapped around your finger, red string of yours choking him as he devours that notion, of being owned. A fucking dog on a leash, and even if that was just a mere strained rope, he’d paint it red with your blood, force all heavens and hells to make you two work, intertwined by the same unbreakable bond.

The cabin feels suffocating. Leon kisses your neck, murmurs praises against your skin. It is overwhelming, and gentle, and so much and he hasn’t even started yet. Sighing next to your cheek, he grabs your thigh, pulling your pants even lower, adjusting his covered boner just against your cunt, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh, God,” you let out, squeezing his hand even harder, since he hasn’t let go of you. It is an anchor as you experience this, as the cold breeze that enters the room kisses your nipples.

“You’re still with me? I can go gentle. Just want us to feel good, won’t ask for anything more,” he asks, moving his hips slowly against you, contact electrifying even if you’re both still wearing your underwear. You nod, eagerly, and he sinks his body closer once more. You grip onto his shoulders bringing him even closer as his hips slowly dance against you.

By now, all concerns, all fears are simply gone. In the humble little moment that you’re both sharing, there is no place for anything else apart from the devotion you hold for each other. Leon kisses you, needy, as his member rubs against your clothed clit, and his mouth seems to replicate his needs, with how delirious his tongue makes you feel.

“Fuck, Leon,” you mewl, mouths parting just to breathe once more. He smirks, his eager mouth kissing your jaw, your neck.

“You don’t know how long I have waited for… for this. For you,” and the way he says it gives you goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air that enters the cabin.

“Leon…” you pull him closer, as close as he can be. His body is practically on top of yours, his member rubbing faster against you.

“Mine,” he asserts, remarking his words with another squeeze of his hand. The other one grabs your thigh, opens your legs more so he can lock himself even closer, grinding harder.

The air makes him dizzy, the sight of your willing body under him gets his heart wild. Fucking hell, he has already came in his pants once, is he gonna do it once more just from humping your cunt? Leon whines, the feel of your hard nipples against his t-shirt making him lose his mind. And when you touch his back again, just like earlier, he moans.

He doesn’t care what happens to this mission, doesn’t care what happens to the rest of the evils of this world as long as he can see your precious face like this, as much as he desires it. This thought pushes him forward, and he starts to move his hips faster.

“God, god, oh, shit, Le…�� you whine out, his motions rough as he chases his own pleasure too. But it feels so good, even if it hurts a little, even if your soaked panties do nothing to protect your decency by now, even if period droplets are probably leaking out of your panties.

You don’t want it to ever stop. Desperate, you let your hand go from his grip and hold him against your body with abandon, fingers directly against his skin, keeping him there. Leon growls at this, understand your needs and humps you faster, biting your neck, half-breathless.

It’s such a stark contrast to the way you two always treat each other, both on the field and on your day to day. It as if now that the veil is gone, that everything has fucking snapped, there was a certain aggressiveness that needed to be let out, that was always under the surface, ramping up, eager to crawl out of you. But it’s also full of passion, as his teeth never mark you too much, and your nails don’t draw blood from his skin.

Maybe you two needed this: a love that was a little broken, a little violent. A tender purging of your sins.

A connection born out of loyalty, out of blood.

You moan loudly when his movements get messy, rhythm getting distracted.

“Please, hold it in for me?” you beg, unable to ignore the signals of his desire. “Just a little bit” you add, knowing that you just need his rough touch for a moment longer, your body still craving his magic.

Leon nods, panting.

“I’m gonna—gonna come soon,” he warns you, trying to not let his cock ruin the path of euphoria he wants you to walk.

“It’s okay, me too, Le.”

“…Fuck,” he whimpers, and you pull his hair once more, your legs hugging his hips.

His thoughts are all mush thanks to you, but he can still hear how the sweetest moans escape your mouth, so he keeps going. Too sensitive, too hard, underwear soaked, but he continues for you. At some point his member rubs against your clit, harshly, and it is too much for you.

You kiss him, moaning into his mouth as you come, panties gushing out your juices and even some more specks of blood. Your whole body spasming, unable to keep quiet.

God. His pretty angel, his pretty girl, the most deserving of eternal springs and of the most devoted love. Leon has always felt you owned him. Not trapped, but rather at peace with you. Fuck, he is certain now. You carry a fucking leash, tied around his neck and he has no choice but to follow you, stay beside you. Both a shadow and a lover, stupid smitten dog but he wants to guard you forever.

He has wanted to hung up the Moon for you since the moment he met you, so when he finally sees your blissed-out expression, the moonlight caressing your face, he feel like he deserves it.

Not just this. But you.

His cock is leaking precum, it aches, needs to let go. He pushes harder, knows that he can, because you let him, because you scratch his back and search for his mouth as he grinds harshly against you.

He comes. Hard, pouring his seed onto his boxers.

It’s as if he could die now.

Both of you sigh, slowly. Leon kisses the bitemarks on your neck, you press the pads of your fingers gently against all the scratches on his back. For a little moment, the world doesn’t breathe. Just lets the two lovers that have finally found each other revere in this contained breath.

All that needed to be said, to be done, to be pinched and purged and snapped, it’s finally out.

You caress Leon’s jaw, look at him through sleepy eyes.

“I think… Think mission partners don’t do that,” you say, voice raspy but a smile etched on your face.

Leon smiles as well, his heart overjoyed.

“Nope, they definitely don’t,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours.

You chuckle.

“You’re okay?” You ask him, cupping his cheek and Leon closes his eyes, sighs.

“I should be asking you that, baby.”

You now have the decency to blush at the pet name. And when he opens his eyes, and kisses your palm, you feel like your chest could explode from holding so much light inside of it. Oh, he could call you anything and you’d just let him. He owns you. You’re pretty sure he does, that he painted his name with your blood on your cunt, a bloody and tender signature, marking you as his artwork, ruining you with his cum for anyone else.

“Is that pet name gonna stay?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” He asks, moving to stand up, but you giggle and pull him closer to you, your legs still holding him down. Leon wheezes.

“We can discuss pet names and the such after… a date. ‘Cos you owe me a date, Kennedy.”

“Oh, we’re really back to last names, now? Dang it,” he lets out, and you can only laugh.

He is a fucking dork. Always will be. Maybe what will be different from now onwards is that he will be yours.

That night you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Your underwear has been irreparably stained, his boxers as well, the zipper of his tactical pants does not zip up anymore. A constellation of lovebites, scratches and the remains of your period. All bloody and needy and most delicately violent.

Too rough. Too honeyed to survive you both.

Leon hugs you tightly in his arms, comfortably cuddling as if it isn’t the first time.

Maybe your bodies dreamed so much of this day that they both instinctively know how to position arms, how to tangle into each other as to breathe the other in.

Maybe no string was snapped tonight, but rather, you pulled it so much, that it sank deeper into your veins and just pulled you two impossibly closer.

If you've made it to the end, cookies for you! Also, may write more for this two, I liked the dynamic a lot. (I love soft dorky Leon, can you tell?)

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #nsft #mdni divider and #divider by #@/cafekitsune #support banner by #@/vase-of-lilies #mine #writer bee

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yourdoorisunlocked · 3 months

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ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ ᴠᴇxᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ - ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

𝐀/𝐍: Whew! Ok, I'm taking a small break right now- I have one more request to do, and ofc as soon as I can I'll finish it, but I don't want to burn myself out or anything.

I'm just taking a quick writing rehab right now. Nonetheless, the banter was so fun to do, and I hope you all like it!

If I do write another chapter for the week, it'll probably be for What A Dish, What A Doll!

➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,903 ➺ Song Recommendation: 𝓔𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓬 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 | 𝓑𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓼

. . .

The chill of February’s frosted breath graced the glass panes of the largest building in the Vee’s district, an imposing force that not-so-subtly hinted at how far their influence and power expanded across the Sinner’s Circle of Hell, as it stood right in the heart of the Pride Ring for all to flock to. No matter how depraved, sadistic, or perverted you were, the territory of the Vees surely had something in store for your insatiable appetite to feast upon.

And since the first twenty-four hours of the infamously romantic month, chaos had erupted within the offices of the Vees. Other than Halloween, it was the greatest vice of Vox’s hellish existence, filling his calendar to the brim with meetings, product improvement, managing holiday events and sales, and not to mention Velvet’s stupid “Love Potion” gimmick-

For Christ’s sake, the goddamn holiday started with a ‘V’! Their brand of perfection practically relied on that lovey-dovey nonsense.

For the past week, the only thing filling up Vox’s schedule and keeping him from you was showcasing shitty rom coms with horribly conceived plots, Velvet rushing around like a mini-hurricane and destroying everything in her wake for her latest fashion show, and Valentino?

Oh, don’t even get Vox fucking started.

And now, after all of that overwhelming bullshit that kept him from warming your bed for the past few days, Vox desperately wanted – no, needed to escape and spend quality time with his darling. With you.

He had the usual Valentine’s Day blueprint in mind: eat ice cream and binge-watch your favorite TV-shows, while you flustered the hell out of him with your affections and make hot chocolate, and then fall asleep in each other’s arms by the fire.

Mundane, cheesy shit like that was the highlight of his days after another exhausting workday keeping it all roped together and navigating Velvet and Valentino's nonsense.

Their facade was of modern sophistication, perfection at its very finest that was produced for only those who could afford it, and it was all piled into Vox’s lap to regulate the chaotic, unpredictable behavior of his fellow Overlords, and keep their volatile nature in check.

But the continuous hardship that came with his stressful job would fade with the wintry wind as soon as he stepped off the elevator and into your shared penthouse, and like a patch of sunlight to snow, you’d melt away all his worries with a smile and a rub of his head as you took care of him for the night.

Almost there...

The television demon groaned as he crossed the threshold over to your apartments, seeing no need to keep up his perfectly aligned posture.

And, like a mercy served by Gods, Vox was met with the heavenly sight of you standing in your fluffy, midnight blue bathrobe that you’d received on your birthday, courtesy of Val. Vox would’ve personally burned it to high hell, but you adored the design, and he couldn’t resist you when you pleaded with him.

“Vox...” crossing your arms at the doorway, his light, his spark, his reason to maintain everything about his own reputation stood with a stern furrow in your brow as you strode over to him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been overworking yourself again, love,” you grumbled as you took off his bowtie and removed his coat, and you smoothed out the front of his striped vest as Vox stumbled for an answer.

“I-” *sigh* “I’m not pushing myself that much. You know how the job is, especially around this time,” seeing your face fall and your lips tighten into a straight line, Vox took your hand, squeezing it within his gloved palms as his sharp teeth pulled into a small half-smile.

“But coming home to you makes it all worth it,” a tender hand dancing with waves of tingling sparks cupped your cheek, and with a heavy sigh, you looked to him with concern and affection swirling within your tender gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. All I’m saying is those two bumbling excuses of Overlords should at least give you a couple of days off,” you scowled softly, but your frown melted into a flustered pout as Vox kissed it away, and a soft buzz of electricity lingered against your lips.

“Now, now, enough of that, my dear. We still have the whole night to ourselves, don’t we?” You giggled, a long-awaited melody to his ears as Vox spun you around to press your back against his chest. How beautifully the sound replaced Velvet's usual grating, shrill voice that penetrated his ears. How agreeable you were, that you didn't fight him like Valentino, that you truly cared about him and his well-being.

Sometimes, you'd even force his workaholic ass to return to your apartment and get him ready for bed, practically hauling your grumbling, overworked hubby into bed, and forcing him to sleep in the next morning.

And it was the sappy, lovesick moments like these always reminded Vox that he'd never find anyone else like you.

All the more reason to keep you tightly within his grasp...

“Yeah, I guess, so. You dork,” you flicked the very center of your husband’s face, and he blinked a few times in surprise before chuckling and shaking his head.

“Oh, yeah? And what does that make you for loving me~?” Vox swayed against you gently, his inner fans suddenly warming himself up more than usual as he poorly attempted to conceal his light blush at having you so close.

Your laughter chimed through the air like the first sunbeams breaking through stormy gray clouds upon the aftermath of a thunderstorm.

“Well, I suppose that makes me your lover,” you simpered right back at him, turning your head slightly so you could stand on your tiptoes and kiss him.

It felt almost like a dream when you were in Vox’s arms like this. Simply existing with each other, standing above the Pride Ring as if you ruled the entire Sinner’s Circle. Untouchable, ambitious, and madly in love.

As if on cue, the sound of a gentle, reflective saxophone poured from the speakers installed within the penthouse as the lights dimmed, and you felt yourself drifting away as you swayed with your husband.

The soft buzz of electricity bounced against your figure as Vox stared down at you, his dead, automated heart pounding erratically as his hands slid from yours down to your waist, digging into the fabric of your robe with sharpened claws.

“Vox...?”

“Yes, my dear?”

With a deep breath, you lilted your voice as you spoke to him, in hopes that seeming more placating and docile could shake Vox’s stance upon his insistence to work himself to the bone. No more would you allow yourself to stand hopelessly to the side while you watched your husband work himself into such a distressed, sleep-deprived state.

“I’m putting my foot down. You’re not going back to that horrible place for the next week, at least.” Vox stiffened at your tone of finality.

“Excuse me?” He chuckled as if you were joking with him, but your resolute glare told him otherwise. “Check your phone.”

With a hesitant glance towards his pocket, Vox slowly pulled out his phone, only to find that, in fact, every work-related app had been temporarily blocked from the device.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked back at you and tapped your nose with a haughty smirk. “Nice try, but it’s going to take more than that for me to fall for your wiles, my dear,”

When you only grinned up at him with no hint of malice nor any trace of exasperation tugging at your usual, beautiful smile, his triumphant grin fell. “Why are you looking at me like that? What...”

A slow realization turned in Vox's mind as he recollected the last few days, when you were poking and prodding at him and his programming for “no apparent reason,” and he wrote it off as curiosity born from your boredom while being locked up at the penthouse apartment.

But by fuck, he was really regretting indulging you right now, for once.

With a surge of panic, Vox immediately blue-screened, as he mentally checked for any of his work-related tabs and files, only to find them completely, and suspiciously empty.

No notes. No texts. No documents.

Nothing.

You... You fucking hacked into his mainframe!?

His interface returned to normal to find you slumped against him, only perking up when you saw your husband had returned from his frenzied search of the crime that had been committed; the heinous act of keeping Vox from working.

And here the culprit was standing, swooning and relaxing in his hold, nuzzling against him as if she wasn’t to blame for his entire workspace vanishing off the face of the Earth for the next seven days.

“Well...?”

“...How long have you been planning this?” Vox was absolutely aghast. He knew you could be impulsive, perhaps even irrational, compared to your cool, collected husband, but this was...

You grinned triumphantly as you tapped his nose right back.

“I just thought you could use a few days off, spending some time in your wife's company for Valentine's Day~..."

“But when did you- No, how the hell-?”

“It seems that you’ve fallen victim to my wiles yet again,”

“Oho, you sneaky little-!” Vox practically tackled you into a hug as he discharged a small bout of electricity, tickling you with an electrifying warmth, just by holding you against him.

“C’mon, I’ve got another surprise for you,” with a soft giggle and a gentle tug of his antenna, you pulled Vox from the floor as his free hand shot up to his hat with a small, bashful frown.

“I told you to stop that!” He outwardly groaned, but you could hear the flustered electrical buzz that Vox emitted whenever you did something to him that he really liked.

“You know I don’t like it,” he muttered, but as always, you saw right through him.

“And we both know that’s one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told me,” you grinned back at him cheekily as you pulled him into the living area, where you had spent most of your afternoon setting up when Vox was occupied with his work.

In the living room, you had set up a small, cozy gaming area. It then hit Vox just how long you had been setting this up, waiting for him to drop his guard and into your scheming hands.

That little criminal...

Two controllers, one for you, and one for Vox, sat upon a pile of fluffy blankets. A few pillows draped in silk cloth surrounded the area on the couch, and before it upon the coffee table, there sat a freshly made bowl of popcorn, and various other chocolate candies and snacks.

“Hm... Seems like someone’s been itching for a rematch.” A challenge glinted in his sensors, and you leaned into him with an equally blazing ire.

"You wanna bet...?"

. . .

“GODDAMN FUCKING BLUE SHELL! I’LL DESTROY YOU, YOU SPIKED SON OF A BITCH!”

“HA-HA! GUESS WHO’S IN THE LEAD, NOW!?”

Your fingers pressed the controller furiously as the TV blared in front of you, and as you crossed the finish line, you let out a whoop of victory, nearly falling out of Vox’s lap in your bout of triumph.

“Yes!” “No!! Fuck!”

You and Vox shouted simultaneously, making you burst into a fit of triumphant laughter as he groaned and slumped defeatedly behind you.

“Are you serious!? That’s the fifth time in a row!” Vox nearly crushed his controller in his vice grip as he threw a slew of curses at the TV.

The two of you had been playing Mario Kart for the past hour, blissfully unaware of how your gaming match had whisked the both of you into a heated competition of bumper cars and tallying points for each round someone won, and the winner would be picking the movie you watched.

You stuck your tongue out at him with a victorious beam. “It seems the Nintendo wants us to watch the Kissing Booth tonight,” you giggled madly when Vox’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Yeah, babe, there is no way I’m watching that.”

“Aw, come on, I won fair and square!" you leaned into your husband, who sighed with exasperation but softened at the sight of your pout.

“Please...? I promise we’ll watch whatever you want tomorrow!”

“It’s my first day off the job, and you want to watch the goddamn Kissing Booth!?”

"Pretty please, Sparks?" Vox’s aura buzzed softly at the nickname, and he narrowed his eyes down at you as you begged him with your puppy eyes.

“Playing dirty, huh? Fine. Let’s watch your dumbass movie,” Vox pouted with crossed arms as he slumped into the couch in defeat and his antenna buzzed softly in annoyance. It sparked abruptly when you clapped excitedly and pulled him by his collar to lay a tender kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you! I promise, you’ll love it,” you grinned mischievously and grabbed the remote.

Vox, in fact, did not love it. In fact, it was so bad that you both started watching it ironically and threw jabs at it occasionally.

“So, who do you think she should pick? Her psycho-controlling best friend, or the pretty boy with anger issues~,” You leaned your head against his shoulder as you shoveled a handful of popcorn into your mouth, your eyes glued to the screen.

Vox sighed and rubbed his forehead, equally as invested as you were despite your shared frustration with the film.

“Honestly? She should dump both of them and run for the goddamn hills.”

You snorted. “Yeah? Well, I would’ve chosen her boyfriend. He gets better over the next couple of movies.” Vox raised an eyebrow at you. “Seriously?”

Popping a few M&Ms into your mouth, you nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m serious! He gets some serious character development,” you mutter sarcastically, before licking your lips with a shit-eating grin. “He seems really cold and angry on the outside, but he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

Nudging his shoulder, you glance not-so-subtly up at him, and Vox took the hint, tickling your sides softly with a smirk.

“And I’m a dork?”

“Yeah, and you’re a contagious one, too!” Your hands grabbed at his arms as he crushed you into a hug, pulling you even closer as he rested his head upon yours.

“Well, then I guess that makes two of us, doesn’t it my dear~?”

“No! Stop! Please, I can't breathe!” You attempted to flail around dramatically, but within Vox's vice grip, that was next to impossible.

“Ah-ah-ah! I’m afraid you’re trapped within my wiles, darling!”

“Curse you! How dare you use my own spells against me!” You giggled as he continued his bombardment of tickles and small, feathered kissing against your nape and the small back of your neck.

Soon, your laughter died down and you both fell silent as you finished the rest of the movie.

While you slowly began to drift off into sleep in Vox's arms, spent from the day of preparing your apartment for your husband's arrival, he looked down at you with a tender half-smile.

I can't believe someone like you would even look at someone like me...

"Hey, babe-?" He whispered out into the dark, before huffing out a chuckle when he realized you were still asleep.

With a soft smile, and a tender patter of his heart, Vox scooped you up and whisked you away to your bedroom, where he silently dresses you up in a pair of pajamas, and tucked you into bed.

Ever so gently, Vox laid a few of the blankets over your form, dragging them and the silk pillows back from the couch to make his little sleeping beauty ever the more comfortable.

He looked upon you as you dozed the minutes away, blissfully oblivious to the war that raged inside of him.

While Vox was impressed that you had managed to somehow hack into his mainframe and alter his actual mental programming, it really would take more than basic understanding – plus, you pulled it off unguarded. Now, of course, this spawned a new problem for him, but he’d deal with it in due time. Besides, it’d give him a proper excuse to slack off a little bit, with you.

God, what was he thinking? The old Vox would’ve seen such a desire to goof around with some girl while the other two Vees went around wreaking havoc and partaking in whatever idiocy without Vox to keep them in check.

But you weren’t just ‘some girl’ to him.

And frankly, those two clowns could go fuck themselves.

A part of Vox wanted to remain in your bed, for your sake, but there was work to be done, and Velvet no doubt was positively livid at the fact that he wasn’t answering any of her calls.

So, with a newfound confidence in his advances, your husband bent over you, softly pinching your chin within his finely sharpened claws, and laying a few tender kisses trailing from your lips down to your nape.

I wish I could do this to you when you’re awake... But that smile, fuck, I can’t even form sentences without fumbling when you look at me like all you want is to give me the world.

You groaned and turned over within the sheets, scooching towards him with a soft furrow in your brow.

Vox kissed it away, before reluctantly pulling away from your side, standing at the door with a small, yearning smile.

“Til morning, my dear.”

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Valentine's Day from our favorite crazy-ass TV demon!

I'm sorry I didn't get to post this yesterday, but I was feeling so unmotivated by the end of it, and I decided to rewrite most of this fluff fic, just to give you all a quality post.

I don't half-ass things, especially when it comes to writing, that's just why my fics take a while to post.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and comments are always appreciated!

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @matrixbearer2024

#vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #valentine's day fluff #this man is a workaholic confirmed #yourdoorisunlocked #banner by cafekitsune #divider by cafekitsune

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gingernut1314 · 3 months

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Extra Special

A Songbird Story

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy wants to make this Valentine's Day special. Extra special for his extra special songbird.

Warnings: fluff, like the tiniest bit of angst, smut (p in v, biting)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Sooo....I got this out a bit later than I wanted (like an hour late) so it's no longer valentines day...but let's all pretend I got this out in time 😂

This is a part of the Songbird series, though not part of the main storyline (if you want to add this extra little story into the main storyline, it could be read between part 8 and part 9). I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

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“SHIT!” The screaming voice of Buggy and the sound of shattering glass jolted you from your sleep like some alarm clock you hadn’t asked for. You started up, ripping the blankets off your body as you fought against your sleep-blurred eyes to find your captain in the dim light of his room. Panic at the thought of something having happened to him struck you hard and fast.

“NO!” Buggy shouted at you, a detached hand flying your way and shoving up back down in bed with a bounce.

“Hey! Buggy, what the hell happened--”

“Nothin’! Stay asleep!” Your concern turned to irritation as he continued to hold you down.

“I’m not going to stay asleep you jackass!” You huffed, grabbing for his hand to hold it in a way so you could sit up once more.

The door to Buggy’s chambers lay open, the light illuminating the hall filtering into his room and allowing you to see the predicament Buggy had gotten himself into.

He skillfully held a tray of food in his last remaining hand while his sea-glass eyes looked downward mournfully at the shattered mug and spilled tea on his floor. It was your mug, one you had picked up on the last island the Big Top had landed on.

“I-I’m--I broke your mug.” He said slowly, almost as if he was nervous about how you would react.

“Were you bringing me breakfast in bed?” You asked, completely glazing over the subject of your broken mug. Buggy’s mouth fell open as his eyes glanced towards the tray he still balanced.

“Uh--yeah.” You kissed the bit of exposed wrist of the detached hand still in your grip before letting it fly back to his body, a smile pulling to your lips.

“Then what are you waiting for? Come here.” You said patting the empty space next to you. Buggy looked to the spill, then back to you, and then back to the spill once more. “It’s just a mug, baby. I can get a new one.” Those eyes found you once more, his mouth opening and closing like some fish out of water. You sighed, patting the bed a bit more aggressively.

“We’ll clean up later. My stomach is eating itself I’m so hungry.” Buggy rolled his eyes at you dramatically, closing the door before starting for you.

“Now that’s a bit dramatic, don’t ya think, songbird?” You scoffed at him and his silly little grin which was growing wider and wider the closer he got to you.

“Dramatic? I’m dramatic? I’m not the one who was about to cry over--” A gloved hand came up to cover your face, shoving you not so gently back onto your pillow.

“Scoot over, yeah?” The bed dipped as you swatted Buggy’s hand away from your face, shooting him a daggered glare that he merely winked back at.

“Asshole.” You huffed, sitting back up as Buggy passed over you to his side of the bed.

“Yes, but you like this asshole.” A detached hand came around to bop you on the nose as he flopped down next to you.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huffed, watching as he extended the tray of breakfast foods out to you.

“You’re favorites of course.” Your playful annoyance was quickly replaced with that giddy feeling in your chest you still weren’t used to feeling. A feeling that was warm and pressing dangerously against the seams of your heart at Buggy’s thoughtful kindness. You took the tray, placing it in your lap as you smiled gratefully up at your captain.

“And--” He said, a detached hand flying into the bathroom only to come back out with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. They were in the colors of yellow and white and sat in a red and white striped popcorn container. You realized the flowers were supposed to mimic the food typically within such a container.

You’re mouth hung wide open as Buggy handed you the flowers, his grin turning all too goofy. A smile that was even more stunning than any flower you could ever receive.

“Thank you, baby. What did I do to deserve all this today?” You asked, bringing the flowers to your nose to smell their sweet scent.

Shit--they even smelled like popcorn. How’d he do that?

“Cause today’s Valentine's Day, duh.” You blinked up at him. Blinked once, twice--

“Valentine’s Day? I don’t understand.” Buggy’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets in shock.

“What? You don’t know what Valentine's Day is?” You shook your head and Buggy continued to gap at you. “It’s only one of the biggest holidays they celebrate in the East Blue.” You shrugged at him, leaning over to place the flowers on the nightstand next to you.

“I grew up under a rock, remember? My dad didn’t care about shit like holidays.” You said, looking over the assortment of food on the tray in your lap. You went for the fruit first, popping one in your mouth as Buggy gave a huff of annoyed air.

“The more I learn ‘bout your daddy the more I dislike him.” You shrugged, moving so you could hook your feet over Buggy’s lap, bringing the warmth of his body flush against yours. His hand was quick to find purchase on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as you raised a bit of fruit to his lips.

“Tell me about it?” You asked, Buggy taking the fruit from your fingers. The brush of his painted lips made your skin tingle and burn and wish to feel over them.

“Well--ya know. It's just a day you spend with the people you care about.” He said between chews. “Do nice things for ‘em. Treat ‘em extra special.”

You tried to play it off cooly by taking a bite from some of the other foods on the tray, but you were anything but cool. Your heart was beating against your rips in a near-painful manner. That giddy feeling rolling around in your chest so fast it made your heart ache with its wildness.

He cared about you. He was telling with his words that he cared about you.

“Oh? And--I’m getting treated extra special?” You asked, raising a fork full of food for Buggy to take. He did and gave your thigh another squeeze.

“No, I’m gonna treat Cabaji to a good time. I’m gonna go snuggle up in bed with him while I feed him breakfast.” You rolled your eyes at Buggy’s tease, taking another bite of your food.

“But you’re not feeding me breakfast. I’m feeding you.” You said, bringing another fork full of food for him to eat. He took it with an audible chomping sound.

“Hand over the fork then, smartass.” You smirked, keeping the fork far away from him.

“I thought you were supposed to be nice to me today.” Buggy was quick to snatch the fork from your hand, his other hand moving from your thigh to pinch at your side in a way that had you yelping and squirming to get away. The tray of food Buggy had so kindly brought to you almost found its way onto the floor to join your mug had Buggy not sent a detached booted foot to nudge it back into place.

“I am being nice. See how nice I’m being.” He insisted, skewering a piece of fruit onto the fork and choo-choo training it towards you. You mocked irritation once more at his antics but ate the fruit with a chuckle.

“I’ll forgive you if you say sorry.” You said after swallowing. Buggy gave a chuckle of his own as he grabbed your cheeks in a squishing hold, pulling you closer and closer until his lips crashed into yours.

His grip loosened, giving your lips the freedom to move in tandem with his. To taste the spices within your breakfast and the sweetness of the fruit.

Buggy pulled away all too soon and you chased after his lips, needing that little buzz of happiness kissing him gave rise in you.

“I’m sorry.” He said against your lips, which claimed yours once more.

“Humm…I don’t know if I forgive you.” Buggy gave a rumbling growl that shook through your chest, burning at your skin.

“Oh yeah? Do I need to beg for your forgiveness?” You smirked, running your fingers over his exposed arm, feeling over the smooth skin and the course blue hair that lay there.

“Begging is a very good start.” He gave that little whimper you loved oh so much to hear. One that had you grabbing him closer, the tray of food forgotten fully as he grabbed you right back.

And just as Buggy had opened his mouth to start to beg, sweet sounds your body begged itself to hear, a knock sounded at his door. One that had anger spiking in Buggy so sharp and fast he was ripping himself off of you and hurling himself from bed, leaving you a drunk kissed mess.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU IDIOTS?” Buggy shouted as you fought to calm yourself back down.

As he screeched and howled at whoever had interrupted his alone time, you went about picking up the bits of food that had fallen in your hast to get your captain closer.

You ate the rest of your breakfast as you pulled yourself from bed, yanking on a pair of Buggy’s pj bottoms which lay scattered over the floor as you went about tidying up the red sheets, as well as picking up the mess that was your shattered mug.

As you did this, you caught bits and pieces of Buggy’s conversation with, who after a quick peek through the crack in the door Buggy had left, found Mohji standing there looking very, very stressed.

“There is a tax to dock, captain.”

“Then don’t dock. Go around the island.”

“We-we did sir. There are docks all around the island and the beaches are very populated--guards posted on each.” You threw the mug away as Buggy fumed at these words.

“And the next nearest island?”

“A day’s journey, captain.” Buggy cursed. And cursed and cursed some more.

“Fine! Pay the godsdamned tax.” Mohji left with a quick yes, captain and an apology before his footsteps rushed off. Buggy came back in looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. It was a look that only deepened when he found you were finishing up cleaning the spilled tea. “What are you--”

“You never pay a tax. We should just go to the next island.” Buggy huffed, slamming the door shut behind him.

“We can’t just “go to the next island” ‘cause today is Valentine's Day. Not tomorrow. And this island has the best beaches for miles.” You blinked at him slowly--beaches. You loved beaches. Loved the sun on your skin and the sand between your toes. It was a fact Buggy knew of you. A love he had learned of during both of your time on the Going Merry.

“Are you--are you taking me to the beach?” You asked calmly, trying to not get your hopes up. Buggy huffed away, trying to settle his raging emotions as he snagged a small, light blue bag from under his vanity.

“Take a look.” He said, pulling a smile to his face that seemed to help him calm down greatly.

Fake it until you make it was the philosophy you believed Buggy went with to get through life. It was a pretty good philosophy--one you might even pick up living by.

You took the bag from Buggy’s hand, pulling the red tissue paper out to find a few pieces of folded, polyester outfits within.

The first you pulled out was a pair of blue, yellow, and red diamond-patterned swim trunks. Trunks that were definitely meant for Buggy who was now genuinely grinning again as he watched you open the gift.

The next thing you pulled out was a matching bikini. It was tasteful, but still cut in a fashion you knew Buggy was eager to see you in. In other words, small but covered the important bits pretty well.

The suits were bright and flashy and so Buggy. You loved it.

“Wha’d ya-” You didn’t let him finish his question before you were attacking him in a hug and in smacking kisses to both his cheeks.

“I love it! Thank you, baby.” Buggy grabbed hold of your hips, finding your lips for a kiss.

“How ‘bout you get ready and I’ll make sure everything’s in order with this shitty tax, hum?” You nodded, kissing him again quickly before rushing off to the bathroom.

The beach was crowded, just as you had heard Mohji tell Buggy, but you and your captain found a space a little ways away from everyone. And, as an added bonus, it was far enough away from the water that Buggy’s nerves were put at ease.

You dug your toes into the sand as you watched Buggy set up camp, pulling beach chairs open and laying a blanket down before your chairs. He placed a picnic basket down on top of it, one he had surprised you with on the way here. Buggy even put up an umbrella, though that was mainly for him.

And he did this all in just his flashy swim trunks.

The sun was no help in the growing heat in your body.

No help as you watched the muscles throughout his arms and legs work. No help as you watched his blue hair, which he had put up in a flowy ponytail, fall over his shoulders, leading the eyes to his chest. A chest covered in a dusting of blue hair that you had run your fingers through many, many times before and wished to do now.

It had you almost wishing to take Buggy by the hand and drag him all the way back to the Big Top just so you could see those muscles work to pull those swim trunks off. So you could see the delicate skin that lay hidden beneath and run your tongue--

“Tah dah!” Buggy exclaimed, a pound smile on his face as he gestured towards the set up.

“Good job, baby.” You praised, swallowing down the sudden dryness in your mouth. Buggy beamed like one of the rays of sunlight shining down on you two under your praise.

“You gonna take that cover off? Let me see how good you look in that bikini?” You nodded, placing your beach bag into one of the chairs before yanking your cover-up--which was just one of Buggy’s old t-shirts--over your head.

Buggy gave a low curse as you showed off your new swimsuit--you moving your body in a way that put it on full display for him.

“You like?” You asked as you watched Buggy’s tongue shoot out to wet his lips.

“Do a little twirl for me.” You did so without question, moving your hips in a sultry rotation that earned you a low groan from your captain. “Shit, songbird--maybe we should call it quits? Head back to the ship.” You smirked as you faced him once more.

“Humm we could…but no. I want to get some sun.” You said, the clown all but whining in displeasure. “You were the one who chose this bikini. You only have yourself to blame.” Buggy dramatically pouted.

“Let me at least put lotion on ya. Don’t want you to burn.” You shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t burn.” Buggy’s hands flexed at your continued denial to let him touch you.

“I do.” You scanned over his body slowly, making the clown all but squirm under your gaze.

“Would you like me to put lotion on you?” He nodded frantically, sending a detached hand for the lotion in your bag. He all but shoved it in your hands before sitting down on the blanket before you.

You knelt down behind him, putting a dollop of lotion on your hand. You moved his hair over his shoulder before beginning to rub the lotion in, your captain humming and leaning back to be closer to your touch.

You took your time rubbing it into his skin, tracing shapes into his skin, and digging your fingers into the tenser bits of muscle you came across. The whole time Buggy was a huming, groaning mess and it was making your body utterly ache to have him hum and groan in other such pleasurable ways.

Once every last bit of skin was covered, you moved around to sit before him, his eyes dazed and struggling to focus. Eyes that scanned over your body, which he began to reach for.

“Uh-ah. No touching.” Buggy huffed, those green-blue eyes snapping to look into your own.

“Why not?”

“Because I only get to touch.” This earned you another, rumbling groan, and those eyes lulling closed. You watched him shift, his trunks seeming to grow just a bit tighter around his crotch. You smirked at his flushed state.

“Let’s go back to the ship.” He asked on a whisper, as if your answer might change. You put another dollop of lotion onto your hand and began to rub it into his shoulder, chest, and abdomen.

“Later, baby. You went through all the trouble to get these swimsuits, make us lunch, and pay that tax.” You said, his sea-glass eyes opening to watch you near mournfully. With a chuckle, you leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his painted lips. A kiss he savored and whined when it ended. “Thank you. You’ve made me feel extra special today.”

A small smile pulled to Buggy’s lips, that warm emotion flashing through his eyes. A look you thrived under whenever he graced you with it.

“Of course, songbird. Speakin’ of extra special, I have another gift for ya.” He said, sending both of his chopped hands towards the basket.

“Another one? Buggy, baby, that’s too much--” Buggy shushed you with a quick kiss. He pulled away as his hands reattached to his body, the box he had grabbed thrust into your hands.

“Nothin’s too much for my songbird. Now open it.” He said excitedly. You sighed, your own excitement dancing around in your chest.

You tugged at the box’s flaps, freeing them from the colorful tape holding them closed. A small gasp left you as you pulled one of the gifts out.

It was a notebook. A beautifully elegant notebook that, in looping letters, said Songbird’s Songbook #1.

And there were more notebooks within the box. Books of different colors and designs but had the same title drawn on the cover. Each was labeled with a number as well.

You felt your eyes prick and you fought to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of Buggy.

“I-Buggy…” You said in a small voice, looking back towards the man you cared for so, so much. A man who had changed your life for the better--who had pulled you from such a dark, dark place.

Guilt panged in your chest. A guilt that rose your anxiety and had you tapping your fingers against the hardcover of the songbook.

“I didn’t get you anything. You should have told me you were doing all this. How--this is--baby, I want to get you something too. Something as thoughtful and beautiful as this. I--” Buggy cut you off with a soft, comforting cradle of your face between his ungloved hands.

“Baby, you’re gift enough for me.” You huffed, feeling those tears begin to pool in your eyes. “I don’t need anything but you. Don’t worry. Please don’t worry.” But you couldn’t not worry. Because you were worried every day that you wouldn’t be good enough. That he would find some reason to toss you away--to abandon you.

“Hey--if you really want to give me something, you could sing for me.” You blinked a few times to clear the tears stinging your eyes on a nod. “Ya? Okay--hey, stop that.” He chuckled, running his thumb under your eye to try and comfort you further. “A song and your company would be a perfect gift.” You nodded again, clearing your throat from its tightness.

“What--what would you like me to sing?” You asked, leaning your cheek further into his palm.

“How ‘bout that song you’ve been workin’ on?”

“It’s not finished.” He nodded, his smile pulling wider.

“I know. But it’s still my favorite.” You smiled, that giddy, warm feeling filling your chest like a flash of lightning. With a quick kiss to his lips, you two laid out on the blanket, facing one another as you began to sing your song softly.

Buggy watched you like you were the most interesting thing in the whole world. Watched you with that warm look in his eyes and an easy smile on his lips. His hand found its way to feel over your side, running his fingers up and down your skin.

You sang your song of lonely and restless need. Of freedom and the sea and of a feeling for someone so strong it could drive them mad.

When you finished your unfinished song, which you had added just that much more to since the last time you had sung it to him, Buggy pulled you in for another soft, lingering kiss that had your heart soar like some dove.

You almost grabbed him back into you when he pulled away but thought better of it--there would be plenty of time to hold and caress each other after this little beach trip.

Buggy went about presenting you with lunch then in a flashy manner. The lunch was simple but perfectly catered for a beach day.

After lunch, you two sat in your beach chairs. You soaking up the sun and Buggy sitting in the shade of his umbrella, hand in hand.

Once you had had your fill of sun and sand and the sound of crashing waves, you helped Buggy pack everything up before heading for the Big Top.

The ship was as quiet as the grave, the rest of the crew out enjoying the beautiful day and exploring the island you had paid to stay on.

“I don’t get mad,” Buggy started, pulling you towards the circus tent that stood proudly close to the bow of the ship. “But I might have one more gift for ya.” You smiled and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Then I owe you one more song.” Buggy squeezed your hand right back with a nod.

“I would love that, songbird.” He led you to the entrance, placing all of your beach gear on the deck before turning you around and covering your eyes with his hands. “No peaking.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You held onto his hands as he led you into the circus tent, your steps a little stiff from your momentary blindness. Buggy positioned you and turned you just a little bit this way and that before you felt his breath on your ear again.

“Okay…ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Buggy chuckled before removing his hands from your eyes.

You gasped at the sight before you. A wonderful scene, one with a candlelit dinner table, a meal still steaming and ready to eat. You gathered it must have just been laid out, meaning one of your crewmates was making a mad dash for the exit.

Flowers covered the surrounding area, filling the space with their forally sweet smells. Music played softly in the background as well. Songs from your favorite artists and inspiration since childhood.

But on top of the dinner and the candles and the music, sitting in the middle of the circus ring was a shining, sleek piano. Another one of those songbooks lay on the music stand, a single rose pressed between its pages.

“I’ll have it moved to one of the backrooms so you can have a little more privacy to practice and create your music. I know you’ve been needing a piano so--” You snapped around and attacked Buggy in a tearful kiss before he could finish.

Your captain was quick to wrap you up in his arms, pulling you flush against his warm body. Your lips moved in perfect synchrony. In a sweet, tearful kiss that gradually grew more needy. More wanting and fiery.

You pulled away, littering kisses over his cheeks and jaw and neck, your hands sliding their way downward. Fingers pulled at his bright swim trunks and you were just about to follow your hands downward when Buggy stopped your descent. You whined but it was silenced by his burning kiss.

“Nah-uh. Want to make you feel good.”

“But--” A voice stealing kiss found you again, Buggy’s body moving you backward until you ran into the piano he had just gifted you.

His feeling hands found the strings to your bikini and loosened the top so that the triangle-shaped fabric fell away from your breasts, hanging loosely around your waist. Those stunning eyes of his darkened in lust at the sight of you, his tongue coming out to wet his lips in something akin to hunger.

Your fingers were gripping the back of his neck and guiding him towards your pebbled nipples, Buggy readily following your lead. His teeth grazed over the sensitive heft of your left breast, making a low moan pour from your chest. A low thing that turned mewling when his lips encased your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over its peek.

You held him closer, your body giving out onto the keys of the piano, making the instrument give a screeching ring that echoed throughout the circus tent.

Buggy’s strong arms grabbed you around your thighs and shoved you up onto those keys, abusing the poor, elegant instrument once more with your weight.

You would have been worried about breaking such a beautiful gift had a pleasure-filled fog not begun to roll through your mind, blocking out any sense or reason.

He removed his mouth with a pop from your breast only to latch it around your untouched and lonely left breast. Your fingers scraped over the back of his neck, pulling low moans of his own from his throat, the vibrations of it buzzing at your body and adding to the growing wetness between your legs.

Buggy’s hands grabbed for the bottom of your bikini, yanking them off with help from his chop-chop abilities to fully do so without pulling away from you.

He switched breasts again, biting lightly at your flesh and making you squirm in his hold at the flashes of pleasure that pulsed through you.

You spread your legs further, giving Buggy full access to your weeping pussy. It wanted his touch--needed it and you were beginning to grow desperate.

A chopped hand crawled its way down your stomach, finding its home on top of the mound of your pelvis.

“I should make you beg for it, ya know.” He murmured around your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple and pulling a needy little whine from you. “For teasing me at the beach.”

“Y-your fault. You--” You sucked in a shuttering breath as he dipped a finger into your dripping folds. A finger that rounded your cilt but never once dared to touch it, sending you just enough pleasure but never enough to scratch the deep itch that had been building within your body all day. “You bought the damn bathing suit.”

Buggy chuckled, pulling away from your nipple to lick a wet trail up the valley of your breasts, sinking his teeth into your neck. A pinch of pain that only melded and mixed with that dulled buzz he had lifting in you.

“I wanted to match. So fuckin’ sexy.” And his finger finally moved to land on your clit, rubbing circles into it and sending your body radiating in ecstasy.

“Oh--oh gods--yes--thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You rambled into his hair, holding his face that much closer to your neck, which he continued to bite and suck a deep bruise into. “I-I love this fucking suit--oh my gods!”

Your hips began to move on their own accord, rocking against his finger and his cock, which had tented his trunks in his own arousal.

More, more, more.

You need more of him. All of him.

With these foggy thoughts in mind, you reached your hand down to tug his suit as low as you could. It was an action that only exposed more of that happy blue trail which led to your real goal, still hidden breath those bright trunks.

“C-Captain--Captian, please, please, please! I-I need you in me please!” You begged, continuing to pull at the band of his trunks to spur him on.

“F-Fuck--yeah, baby. Anythin’ ya need.” He grit out pulling away just enough to shove his swimsuit down, letting his cock spring free from its restraint. He hissed at the sudden exposure to the chiller air, his tip already leaking milky pearls of precome.

You grabbed for him, running your thumb over his slit and spreading it around the mushroomed head of him. Your mouth fell open on a needy pant as he thrust mindlessly into her hand, bringing his cock that much closer to your sobbing pussy.

Digging the heels of your feet into that perk little ass of his, you dragged him closer and closer until he was pressed oh so nicely against your entrance.

It took only took one thrust and your guiding hand to have him sinking inch by glorious inch into your aching pussy. Your walls flexed and relaxed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper into you.

“Oh fuck.” Buggy cursed in your ear as he bottomed out, his last unchopped hand coming up to grab a fistful of your breast. You nibbled at that pierced ear, humming your growing satisfaction for him.

“M-move, baby. S-so good for me.” You breathed, raking your fingernails up and down his back, sending shivers through your captain’s body.

“Yes--fuck, yes, songbird.” He said on a whimper, his hips pulling him all the way out all the way to his reddened tip, only to sharply thrust back into you. You gave a deep moan of his name, hanging onto him for deep life.

Each thrust sent low humming through your body. Humming that grew louder and louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

Each bite and suck at your neck spread sparks along your skin like the start of some wildfire.

Each circle and flick of your cilt ignited and deepened that built within the depths of your abdomen.

Buggy chuckled against your skin, his thrusts never once faltering in their steady, pleasure-pulling pace.

“Wh-what?” You panted, grabbing hold of his chin to look into those sea-glass eyes. Eyes a swirl of blown-out lust and mirth.

“J-just--heh--this wasn’t what I had in mind when I said--m-makin’ music.” He huffingly laughed, a rather brutal thrust pulling a deep moan from your chest. A thrust that pushed your body harder into the keys beneath you, the piano letting out a horrid sound at the sudden movement.

“I-It’ll be inspiration.” You wavered, moving his lips against yours in a sloppy dance of tongues and spit.

That deep build rolled around within you. Rolled and spurred your hips to move that much faster against Buggy’s. The added pressure of his pelvic bone slamming against his finger, which pushed against your clit that much harder had that white buzz spread through your thighs, into your hips, and then to rush wildly down through your core.

Buggy pulled from your kiss, free hand shooting up to hold your neck in a loose hold so that he could watch your brows furrow and mouth hang open in a gasping call of his name as you came. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, pulling your name and nicknames alike from Buggy’s panted lips.

He pushed fully into you, nose brushing against yours as hot ribbons of come shot into your constricting pussy in spurts.

Buggy whimpered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His body fell slump against yours, only held up by your legs around his waist and your arms around his waist. You held him tight, pressing your forehead into the side of his head, breathing in his scent with each heaving pull of air into your lungs.

“I think--I think we broke the piano.” You panted with a chuckle, kissing his shoulder. Buggy groaned, his body finding strength enough to hold you back just as tight.

“Whatever--I’ll steal you another one. I’ll steal so many pianos you won’t know what to do with them all.” You kissed his shoulder once more, a large, goofy grin pulling to your lips. One that, just like that warm feeling in your chest, you couldn’t help.

“Thank you. Today was very extra special.”

Original Requester for main Songbird series: @srgtjamesbarnes

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @friedtacokitty

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