#i really want to keep going i have more but i also just want to post it before i have to go do stuff today

[cutielando]

when in vegas ~ lando norris

instagram au

synopsis: anything can happen when lando and y/n are left alone while in vegas.

a/n: for the sake of the story, we'll pretend Lando's crash never happened. thank youuuu

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 3,291,574 others

landonorris Vegas baby tagged: yourusername

view all 392,184 comments

yourusername i love traveling with you <3

landonorris i love you 🫶🏻

mclaren Let's go!🧡 liked by yourusername and landonorris

mclaren also, please, BEHAVE - PR team

landonorris we'll try

yourusername i'll keep him under control

landonorris you'll be too busy to think about that 😈😈😈😈

mclaren LANDO

alex_albon please be good

landonorris not making any promises

yourusername sorry alex 🫣

oscarpiastri ...my room is next to yours...

yourusername 🫣🫣🫣

landonorris i suggest earplugs 🤭

oscarpiastri ...

charles_leclerc someone should watch over you two

yourusername not you, that's for sure

charles_leclerc why not?

landonorris you're worse than we are

charles_leclerc ...true

adam_norris_pure_electric good luck, my boy!!

landonorris thanks dad ❤️

ciscanorris take care of him yourusername

yourusername i will!!! ❤️

user1 you just know they are going to be WILD

user2 I cannot wait for the content abut these two

user3 THE COMMENTS

user4 they’re spending his birthday in Vegas together i’m not well 😭😭😭

user3 my man is getting LUCKY

maxfewtrell you seem to have lost my invite. again

landonorris nah, i just didn't want you here

yourusername babe, be nice please

maxfewtrell this is him being nice.. some friend you are

landonorris ;)

user5 max and lando bickering like siblings will forever be my favorite thing in the world

user6 NOT MCLAREN LITERALLY SCOLDING HIM HAHAHA

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri and 2,974,186 others

yourusername being by your side and watching you do what you love the most has been my greatest accomplishment. i am so proud of everything that you do and i'm forever thankful that you chose me to be a part of your journey. happy 24th birthday baby, i love you so much and i cannot wait to see what the future holds for us ❤️ tagged: landonorris

view all 549,282 comments

landonorris i wouldn't even think about doing life with anybody else. i love you so much 😩❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

landonorris can’t wait to party with you tonight 😈

yourusername BEHAVE

landonorris 😈no

mclaren Happy birthday, Lando! We are proud of everything you do and we hope to continue being your family for many more years to come. Cheers! 🧡🧡

landonorris thank you 🧡

oscarpiastri happy birthday, mate. take it easy tonight

landonorris never 😈

oscarpiastri 🥲

yourusername i’ll keep him under control, don’t worry

landonorris you’ll be too busy to do that 😈😈

oscarpiastri THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP

georgerussell63 happy birthday, mate! 🥳 can’t wait to crush you on the track

landonorris thanks mate. you wish you had my pace

georgerussell63 your ego is through the roof

yourusername so is yours

user1 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVORITE DRIVER 🧡🧡🧡🧡 WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

user2 he’s all grown up 🥹🥹

user3 i remember when he was just a little guy starting out in F1 and now look at him 😭😭😭😭

user4 he’s so fine and talented and just UGH SO PERFECT 😩😩😩 happy birthday king 🥳🥳

user5 i love their relationship so much ❤️❤️ she keeps him grounded and he’s so much happier now

maxverstappen1 happy birthday 🎉 can’t wait to get drunk tonight

landonorris 😈😈😈😈

yourusername oh Jesus

kellypiquet we’re in for a very long night

charles_leclerc i heard there’s a party?

landonorris you’re not invited

charles_leclerc :(

yourusername don’t listen to him, you’re invited and we’d love it if you came 😊

landonorris we would?

yourusername shut up

charles_leclerc yay!! 🥳🥳

mclaren if someone could please keep an eye on them, we would really appreciate it - PR team

carlossainz55 consider it done

landonorris we’re not children, you know

mclaren you certainly act like children

yourusername they’re kinda right, you know…

landonorris shh

maxfewtrell happy birthday mate. looks like you made it another year

landonorris thanks. you know you can't get rid of me

maxfewtrell no matter how hard i try

liked by f1wags, yoursister and 28,473 others

formula1gossip MARRIAGE ALERT⁉️⁉️ Reports are saying that Lando Norris and long-time girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N have tied the knot last night during his birthday bash in Las Vegas? What do you guys think? 👀

view all 7,381 comments

user1 tbh i hope it's true, they're amazing together😩

user2 i saw yoursister in the likes 👀👀👀👀

user3 yoursister GIRL WHAT DO YOU KNOW🫣

yoursister i know nothing

user3 SUCH A LIAR HAHAHA I LOVE IT🥲

mclaren sigh...🥲

user5 BAHAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS AMAZING

user6 this is basically the confirmation we needed

user7 i suddenly understand why everyone keeps saying they are the biggest PR nightmare 😭😭

user8 this is the most Lando thing ever

user5 for real, like this seems the kind of wedding Lando would have

user4 i can just imagine the earful Cisca is probably giving the both of them for doing this 😭😭😭

user2 she is so gonna tear them a new one hahahaha

liked by georgerussell63, ciscanorris and 4,291,857 others

yourusername & landonorris we got married last night. we don't remember much, but it was the best decision we have ever made. grateful to be starting this journey together ❤️

view all 829,175 comments

mclaren Congratulations!!🧡

landonorris thanks admin 😊

yourusername also, we're sorry for the nightmare we've caused the PR department 🫢

mclaren you're cute, we'll let this one slide - PR team

georgerussell63 wild night, but happy for you guys ❤️ liked by yourusername and landonorris

maxverstappen1 i don't even remember this happening

yourusername you were drunker than everyone, you couldn't even remember your name 😂

maxverstappen1 that's not true 😠

kellypiquet you danced naked in front of the wedding venue singing "Viva Las Vegas"

alex_albon for 20 minutes straight

landonorris not the sight I wanted to remember from that night

georgerussell63 me too

alex_albon me 3

charles_leclerc me 4

carlossainz55 me 5

maxverstappen1 OK I GET IT

ciscanorris my children ❤️ you're lucky i love you

yourusername we're sorry ❤️❤️ we promise to have a proper wedding when we get back

landonorris anything for the Mrs.

yourusername 🤭OH

oscarpiastri congrats guys, thanks for taking it easy on me last night with the noise 🥳

landonorris we were too drunk

yourusername you got off easy, pastry

oscarpiastri a win is still a win

user not both of them bullying poor oscar 😭😭

alex_albon never thought you would be the first one of us to get married

yourusername we didn’t either

landonorris what can i say, i love surprising people

maxfewtrell you guys getting married was definitely not on my bucket list for the year

yourusername but you loved it nonetheless

maxfewtrell i'm just grateful you got him to settle down

landonorris she is something else

yourusername 🤭

user1 YAYAYAYAYAAY 😩😩😩

user2 MY FAVORITE COUPLE GOT MARRIED 😭😭

user3 they are so precious 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

user4 CONGRATS ❤️❤️❤️

user5 our favorite WAG is officially HERE TO STAY ❤️❤️

yoursister mom is mad you got married without us

yourusername i’m sorry :((

landonorris kinda my fault, but don’t worry. we’ll have a proper wedding soon!!

yourmother you better.

yourusername MOM, be nice to your son-in-law

yourmother don’t push it, young lady

landonorris yes ma’am 🫡🫡

francisca.cgomes a truly wonderful night 🥳 CONGRATULATIONS DARLINGS!!!❤️❤️❤️

yourusername we love you !!! ❤️

lilymhe i’m sorry i couldn’t be there, but i’m really happy for you guys !! ❤️

yourusername don’t worry, you’ll come to our other wedding ❤️

user6 imagine saying OTHER WEDDING 😩😩

user7 i cannot wait to see their wedding 😭😭❤️

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 381,573 others

mclaren Mr. and Mrs. Norris everyone! Even though their wedding came as a surprise to us as well, we could never be mad at these two! 🧡 tagged: yourusername and landonorris

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yourusername we love you guys !! 🧡🧡

landonorris thanks for the papaya post-wedding cake

mclaren was it delicious?

yourusername it was 🤩

user1 not McLaren posting them 😭😭

user2 they are just one big happy family🥹🥹

user3 MY PARENTS😩❤️❤️

charles_leclerc you're so milking this wedding

landonorris fame is fame

yourusername excuse me? 😠

charles_leclerc great job making her mad from day 2

landonorris you know i didn't mean it like that babe !!

yourusername you're treading on thin ice, mister

georgerussell63 how did y/n, the down-to-earth one, agree to this?

yourusername vodka might have been involved in my decision making process 🤐

landonorris and my good looks also played a part

georgerussell63 good to know that's all it takes

carmenmmundt don't get any ideas

maxfewtrell where is my slice of cake?

landonorris lost in the mail

maxfewtrell ...

yourusername don't worry max, i saved you a slice

landonorris i thought that was extra for me :((

maxfewtrell get your head out of your arse for once, mate

mclaren we'll get you another cake landonorris

user4 the way he has the McLaren staff wrapped around his little finger amazes me 🫣

user5 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND😭😭😭😭😭

liked by pietrapilao, mclaren and 8,392,817 others

yourusername & landonorris due to popular demand, we present to you, again, Mr. and Mrs. Norris

view all 982,175 comments

mclaren Congratulations guys!🧡🧡 liked by yourusername and landonorris

ciscanorris beautiful wedding, we love you so much❤️❤️❤️

yourusername we love you guys too !!!! thank you for making our day special🫶🏻🫶🏻

maxfewtrell great wedding, glad to see i was invited to this one at least

landonorris don’t be condescending

yourusername sorry maxie :)) you know we love you

charles_leclerc beautiful wedding, well done y/n 👏

yourusername thank you charles <3

landonorris i helped too...

charles_leclerc sure you did

carlossainz55 very beautiful ceremony, i loved the cake particularly 🫣

landonorris you thought bringing a Ferrari-themed wedding cake to my wedding was a good idea?

yourusername i thought it was delicious

carlossainz55 i rest my case

user1 SHE WAS SO BEAUTIFUL I’M SOBBING 😭😭😭😭🥹😭🥹🥹🥹

user2 seeing him so happy makes me want to cry 😭❤️❤️❤️

zbrownceo Congratulations to my boy Lando, I hope you and Y/N have a wonderful life together!🧡

landonorris thank you zak 🧡🧡

yourusername we appreciate everything you’ve done for us Zak!!🧡

zbrownceo Thank you for taking care of our boy 🧡

user3 ZAK CALLING LANDO “HIS BOY” 😭😭

user4 YOUR HONOR, you don’t understand how in love i am with them 🥹🥹🥹

maxverstappen1 thankfully i remember this wedding

yourusername thank you for making an effort max

landonorris surprising on all fronts

francisca.cgomes OMG YOU LOOKED SO GOOD 😭😭😭 so grateful to have been by your side on your special day ❤️❤️

yourusername OH MY LOVE ❤️❤️❤️ thank you for everything you did for me ❤️❤️❤️

lilymhe truly such a magical night ❤️❤️ so happy for you guys

yourusername thank you lils ❤️❤️

alex_albon i still can't believe you're married

landonorris bro, we've had 2 weddings, you better start believing

yourusername stop living in denial, alex

yoursister ❤️❤️❤️ if he hurts you, i will fight him

yourusername he won't. if he does, i'll fight him myself

landonorris ...so much violence...

user5 i can now die happy❤️

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[1for5]

TO ALL THE GIRLS I’VE LOVED BEFORE

paige bueckers x uconn student!reader

with caitlin clark, aubrey griffin, nika muhl, and emily engstler

───────── ⋆⋅🏀⋅⋆ ─────────

PROLOGUE

Y/n’s always been into books, poems, and anything literature. As someone who is shy, the stories she read accompanied her throughout middle school and even through college.

She had a lot of books surrounding her room, and she spent her free time at the library the most. She is now currently at her house, fixing her messy room before she goes back to her college, UCONN, before the school year starts.

Another fact about Y/n is that she keeps everything. All the notes from her friends, all the receipts she’s gotten, she keeps it all in a box. To add, she also keeps her memories of her past crushes safely. Y/n has a box full of letters addressing to her past crushes. She in total has 4 letters, each letter has a different emotion and meaning to it.

The 4 letters are addressed to: (1) Aubrey Griffin. South Carolina Basketball Player. Y/n had Model UN with her in high school, but Aubrey quit to focus more on her basketball dreams. Aubrey had an aura which made Y/n attracted to her during their MUN days. Y/n and Aubrey were quite close, and became good friends when you both learned that you will be going to the same college. She had a good basketball career in UCONN, but decided to transfer to South Carolina. She is still doing great.

(2) Caitlin Clark. Iowa Basketball player. Y/n had a good time with her during their junior halloween party. They both dressed quite silly, which brought them to talk to each other. Y/n felt seen for the first time.

(3) Paige Bueckers. UCONN basketball player.. She was Y/n’s first kiss. Going back to grade 6, Y/n knew her as her (then) bestfriend’s crush, and apparently the whole population in school has been crushing too. Y/n and her (then) bestfriend were invited to their first party and when they arrived, a truth or dare has been going on. When it was Y/n’s turn, Paige’s friend dared her to kiss Paige. Y/n was hesitating, and Paige was the one to come closer to Y/n, closing the gap. Y/n’s bestfriend felt hatred, while Y/n felt something different, which she shrugged off.

And (4). Emily Engstler. WNBA Connecticut Suns player. Her first girl friend, with a space. She is her neighbor, a good basketball player, and her childhood bestfriend, however, things changed when emily started dating Y/n’s sister, Nika. It was a bit of a heartbreak for Y/n, as she liked Emily ever since childhood days, all until up to Y/n just getting over Emily for her sister.

The last fact about Y/n is that—her letters are missing. Gone and out of the box.

“Nia? NIA!” She called her little sister, and asked her if she knew anything about the papers inside of the box.

“No..” she answered. Y/n groaned out of frustration, looking everywhere for her letters. The letters she made had the dorm addresses of her past crushes.

After moments of looking, Y/n was called to dinner. She sat on the table, along with Nia, Nika, Emily, and her dad. Her mom unfortunately passed away when she was little, and they all surely miss her.

As they were eating, Nika shared that she will be moving from UCONN to Iowa. She is an amazing basketball player, along with Emily. Maybe she started your exposure to the basketball players you used to have eyes on.

Emily was surely happy for Nika, but somehow got sad with the sudden decision. Nika then called out Emily and went to the living area to talk to her.

After an hour, Y/N felt defeated, hoping that the letters will come back to you or are in a garbage bag. She got her suitcases ready for her flight back to UCONN tomorrow.

While finishing up packing, Nika knocked on Y/n’s door. “Emily didn’t take it well?” she asked Nika, who replied back with a nod. “I know long distance is hard. I had to end it too. Mom didn’t want specifically me to get a partner while in college, and I really have to focus on basketball now.” Nika gave her little sister a hug. “You what?” Y/n was confused, Nika and Emily were surely so in love with each other. Y/n comforted Nika, and they both slept after being tired the whole day.

The following day, the girls’ dad brought Nika and Y/n to the airport to get ready for a new school year. They all bid their goodbyes, and went to the different terminals as the two sisters are now in separate colleges and states.

While waiting to board, Y/n was listening to songs with her headphones. A tall blonde figure then came into her view. “Emily. Hi.” Y/n spoke. “Hi. Ready for a new year?” The basketball player asked, putting down her personal belongings.

“Yeah. Hey.. even if your trip didn’t end well, thank you for visiting. Hope you have a fun time with Connecticut Suns.” Y/n removed her headphones and had a conversation with Emily.

“Flight to Connecticut, now boarding.”

After the flight, Y/n and Emily bid their goodbyes and gave each other a “good luck.” Their friendship may have faded away due to relationships, basketball, and college, but they will always care for each other, just like when they were 5/6 years old playing with toys.

-

A week later, Y/n was running around the field for her P.E. Class, which she hated the most. As she was running, a familiar face was walking towards her.

“Hey look Y/n uhm. I just got out of a relationship, and..” the figure stated. Y/n felt confused. Why is Paige Bueckers suddenly talking again to her after years of not talking to each other?

“What? What do you mean?” Y/n stopped her tracks. “The letter was nice but, I don’t like you like that L/n.” Paige explained, showing Y/n an envelope addressed to Paige’s dorm.

It all made sense to Y/n now. She didn’t expect for her letters to actually be sent out, and it’s giving her a small panic attack. “Look, you do not get it..” Y/n began to explain, however, her voice stops when she sees another tall blonde figure walking, Emily, holding a letter that is most likely Y/n’s “love” letter to her. Did Emily drove here just to show the letter? Y/n thought.

“Holy shit” Y/n stated, and pulled Paige Bueckers into a kiss. That was Y/n’s first kiss that is not from a party game, and she did not know how to act.

Paige also did not know how to act, and just went with the flow. After about seconds seconds seconds of their small “makeout” session, Y/n pulled away.

“You run not kiss! Why is Bueckers here? And Y/n! Another lap for you.” The P.E. Teacher fumed and rolled their eyes.

“I am sorry.. and thank you!” Y/n awkwardly said and started to run her lap, which left Paige dumbfounded.

[tearsofcalamity]

Boothil has me on a chokeholdI want to fuck him so bad.Maybe install a few softwares, up his sensitivity, play with his mind.. Or maybe a lewd virus.. Make him so horny and needy, his head can literally think of you fucking him so good..Or him accidentally plugging the wrong USB, thinking it's his usual data after rebooting, but it's your USB and it messed with him.. I want to fuck his pretty hole so bad

hi anon this is tasty oml

imagine his sensitivity's been all off, some kinda glitch maybe from an incident during one of his missions. one moment it's been too low, and the next (just like now) it's way, way too high. for every other touch it's just annoying, but every time you've brushed past him today, he's failed to mention his issue with just how aroused he feels himself getting. it's different when it's your touch.

when he finally bucks up and admits that he's been having issues, you're so caring, so much more considerate of his senses (he wishes you wouldn't be - he really just wants you to fuck him dumb every time you so much as graze him) as you set out a few USBs and ask him to wait while you go grab some other tools to fix up his sensors. he asks what they're for, and when you tell him they're various types of sensations compiled into USBs to better test each type of touch, he figures he might as well just get a jumpstart with the testing so he doesn't waste your precious time.

he opts for the USB sitting the furthest away. the fool, he hadn't even asked you what sensation each one was before trying it out. it could've been pain, a ticklish feeling, but no, he got arousal. it was like he was overwhelmed like an animal in heat at once, his eyes shooting open as his cock strained against his trousers painfully. images of you involuntarily flashed through his mind, and he had to fight to keep himself breathing normally, but it was no use...

you get back to find him practically humping the air, strands of black and white hair sticking to his forehead as he pants and moans and begs for your help. you're concerned until you see the USB sticking out of his port and realize at once what he's done, lightly chastising him (horrendous torture for him in this state, surely, to have your breath so gently tickling his ear as he suffers) on not touching your tools without asking you first.

unfortunately, it'd be too risky to go in and fix this via his inner wiring while he's this worked up... it might burn you with how much he's overheating. so the only solution is to fuck his brains out until he's at least semi-conscious enough to cool down. good thing you made sure he'd be able to fuck in any way a normal man could when adding his sensitivity! giving him all the facilities is coming in handy.

poor guy doesn't even have the time or mental faculties to ask why the hell you had an arousal USB among the testers present.

ooooh, maybe use a toy on his cock while you pound into him... it'll give you a nice view of his face while he's being completely overwhelmed, his eye filled with hearts, rolling back as his tongue sticks out from behind those pretty lips of his. a nice, slick onahole should do wonders to cool him down after one, three, five... maybe more orgasms, even as he begs you to stop despite his hips continuing to rut into the gadget. the fun thing about fucking a robot is that he can go a lot more than a human can, and as much as boothill tosses his head from side to side, actual tears beginning to spill, you can also see the drool beginning to fall from his lips, his lolling tongue as he groans your name over and over.

he's got a pseudo-prostate that you make sure to nail with precision every time your strap slides inside of him, the impeccable design of his insides allowing you to slip in and out with ease. you remove the onahole from his weeping cock (another feature that aids the toy and your current activities as a whole), pushing his legs up and folding him in half into a mating press, just to see if he can cum only from his prostate. and cum he does - his voice coming out higher and higher pitched as he wails in both euphoria and humiliation at your treatment of him.

finally, you slow when you realize he has indeed begun to cool. his eyes are rolled back, hair messy and splayed across the table, harsh scratches made by his metal nails into the steel table (somehow). he's not quite unconscious, but he certainly can't form any further words, his breathing heaving with small, scattered moans as he tries to regain himself. his emergency cooling procedure had kicked into high gear at last, aiding you in fixing up his sensitivity.

oh, but perhaps leave that special USB lying around. mark it clearly, and pretend not to notice when boothill digs through your messy desk to find it and plug it back in, acting for all the world that he didn't mean to use that special little one on himself again. he's got too much pride to admit it, after all. oh well, it seems you'll have to help him once more!

[dontexpectmuch]

hii, could u maybe write something about joining jude in the celebrations today and sometimes you get a little overwhelmed with big crowds so he’s protective of you and looks after you? 🥹

loud cheers and applause all around the place invaded your ears, the smell of smoke and beer, sweat and other liquids filled your nose as your eyes danced around the crowd in front of you. you coukd feel the sweat on your back roll down at times with how hot it was around you.

the sight if the crowd and fans slowly got smaller as the parade train rolled down the street. you and some other partners of the players were in the back, looking at the happy team with happiness bubbling inside of you as well.

the parade for the team just ended, everyone is on a high that they do not plan to come down of anytime soon, laughter and excitement are still present as if the day had just started. you knew that it would be like that, jude had told you this morning. and he also told you that he would be next to you if you ever felt overwhelmed, though you could not bring it over your heart to disturb this beautiful moment for him. you’d just suck it up for the time being and try to be as happy as possible for you boyfriend.

now, you were in the building where the next party would be held, a more intimate one with families and other staff members from the team. your eyes wander around the huge room, hoping to catch a glimpse of jude. while you are at it, you start to walk towards the buffet, wanting to grab something to drink because of the hot temperatures inside.

“¡chica! where have you been!” an excited voice behind you calls for you, making you turn around.

you are met with the sight of an excited eduardo, his smile so contagious that you can’t help but copy it. you feel relief wash over you as you see a familiar face, automatically moving closer to him.

“i was here and there, y’know.” shrugging, you smile at him while the two of you look around the room, the noise around you rising by the minute. “congratulations, by the way! all of you played amazing and truly deserve this!”

he smiles at you, loving the compliment coming from your mouth, “what can i say-“

“not everyone is blessed with such an amazing teammate like me, eh?”

you feel judes arm along your shoulders and how he pulls you closer against his chest, his voice is clear and loud, perhaps due to all the cheering that is still going around.

eduardo laughs, shaking his head and patting judes shoulder before he moves away, a new drink in his hand as he dances with another person.

“hi.” you turn around to face your boyfriend, his smile never leaving his face and eyes bright.

this sight alone makes your heart roar, suddenly everything else around you disappears in a buzz and you solely focus on him.

jude takes a sip from your water before he puts his arm back around your shoulder, “where have you been?”

“i was with the others, behind the team and all.” you tell him, head leaning back against his shoulder.

even though it was really hot inside and you would like to keep cool, no one could ever make you leave judes touch voluntarily, so you enjoy it while you can.

“how are you? everything okay?” you couldn’t see his face, as the two of you were looking ahead, though you knew that he was concerned about your well-being, making your heart flutter.

you could always feel his eyes on you, no matter where he was or where you were at, he always made sure to keep an eye on you to see if you were comfortable, which you really were. you tried to stay as calm as possible, even if you don’t enjoy large crowds, just to help jude have a good time during the celebrations.

“i’m fine, amor, really.” you take his hand into yours and lift it up to your mouth, gentle kisses feathering against his knuckles to convince him.

his eyes wander around the room, his teammates’ laughter and their cheers painting a bright smile on his face. with winning the league, creating a new environment for himself to gain the best experience ever and having you by his side to share all of this with, jude could not want to be in a better position than he is now.

now thinking of you, he genuinely hopes that you also had a nice time with him and the others, even though he wasn’t able to dedicate most of his time to you. but you seem content, relaxed smile on your lips as you also look around the room, comfortable sigh leaving you.

you push yourself off his shoulder to look at his eyes while your hand stays in his, “you should go and celebrate with them some more, show them how horribly you can dance.”

“ha, ha, ha.” jude rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop himself from smirking at your words, “as if you can dance any better.”

“in fact, i can.”

you hear him scoff, his hand slightly squeezing yours before his eyes turn serious, “babe, ‘m bein’ for real. as soon as you feel uncomfortable, you tell me and i’ll call mum. she’ll pick us up.”

this time you are the once to roll your eyes, even though you love it when he gets protective, you also want him to enjoy his time.

“lo sé, bebé. i will tell you, i promise.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted when some of his friends call him to come and take a group picture together.

“i-“

“just go, i promise i will tell you when i need to go home, okay?” your reassurance makes him visibly relax, nodding his head at your words.

with one last kiss on your cheek he moves away quickly, the cheers around you once again rising as he joins the group.

yeah, he was your cute boyfriend that could not dance to safe his life, but he will also always be the one that will look after you no matter what, and you will be forever grateful to have him in your life.

———————————————————————

guess who’s back

[meanbossart]

Hi RJ, I deeply deeply love your art, your style is amazing and your Astarion is one of my favourite renditions. Thank you so much.

I would like to ask you a rather specific question about your process, if you’re alright with that.

What thought process goes behind choosing a color for your lights and shadows? How do you do it?

I think you’re a master in creating a mood with light and the colors you choose really make DU Drow look like himself (true drow skin, just like i imagined it before ever picking up non-table top version of anything d&d!!) and gives your astarion this gremlin-like soft ugliness lol

Anyway, take care and thank you for any tips xx

Thank you so much! Colorful art is kind of a "new" thing for me, I used to do mostly black & white for comics and such. When I got into BG3 and decided to wanted to draw all these silly ideas out, I realized I was gonna have to venture back into it - It's far too colorful a world to get away with grays and inks alone.

What I'm saying is that I'm still very much learning! I'm glad you guys like my art but I definitely feel like my grasp on color isn't all it could be. I just do what I think looks good and makes sense with the setting!

First of all I think it's important to note that I usually have several different layers of shadow and light. FOR EXAMPLE:

AND THEN FOR LIGHTS... Each text color is a different layer, and that's not even all of them 😂

And the reason for keeping them separate is this: when first painting them on, I make a rough guess on the color, AND THEN-

Yup. I just fuck around with this until I'm happy.

Usually this lands me on (very muted) blueish or purple-y tones for shadows on a multiply layer, with the "base" shadow and for the lights it can be all matter of colors depending on necessity. You can also select your flats and individually change these colors per-surface. You learn what you like as you go! This isn't even a rock solid formula, I still experiment a lot and depending on the piece, the process can be both a lot simpler or a lot more complex than this.

A rule of thumb to start with is that natural light will usually constitute of gray shadows and very, very soft-yellow light - if there is even a need for any depending on your base colors/style. Night settings usually necessitate a slight blue hue on both shadows and light... However, this is art baby, do whatever makes you go "oh that's sick" when you look at it.

As for DU drow's skin, it is nothing but a mix of a grayish/brown base, shadow, and a reflective light! That's what sets him apart from the way I color light-skinned characters; light, when bouncing off his skin, usually (but not always) has a gem-like blue color. You can have all kinds of variations of this combo to give the skin on darker characters more depth.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Aventurine Affection hc's

Affection starts out slow in your relationship...

Of course you got the teasing touches and arm wrapped somewhere around you since before you were even dating, but true honest loving affection takes a while to manifest

He's hesitant... Hesitant to commit himself fully when he knows how fickle and fleeting life can be, how unpredictable his life is, with the risks he takes

"Don't get attached" was his one mantra since the beginning, as if scolding his heart for being so naive as to believe this would last

You would get sick of him, if he didn't die first, sick of his floundering and lack of commitment and childish wavering and massive inferiority complex—

But you didn't leave, you didn't push or pressure or guilt...

His first kiss to you was a soft little peck on the inside of your wrist, pressing it against his face as he closed his eyes, searching for the soft beating of your pulse

It was unintentional, really...

His lips just brushed against it with genuine care, and he couldn't help but need just a little more

He couldn't play the action off, couldn't laugh his way out of such a genuine act of adoration, so he leaned into it, peppering a few more

It was slow starting, but he enjoyed your hands

Holding them, squeezing them, pressing little kisses to your palms and fingers, guiding them to his face as he sighed happily against their warmth

Hands were sacred, used for acts of devotion and prayer... He couldn't help but want yours all to himself

Then it was your neck, your shoulders and collarbone

His head fit so perfect there, almost like the space was made for him to adore

Little lingering kisses pressed to your neck, not suggestive or done only for the purpose of leading up to something more, but done in a way that felt like this was the reward, the end goal

Your reciprocation caused a vulnerable feeling in his chest, your lips brushing against his neck, trailing over his symbol of pain and suffering, sparking pleasant feeling in a spot that's only ever experienced misfortune...

His legs were weak, his whole body felt weak at your gentle nature

His affection grew more teasing, more playful

A quick kiss to the back of your neck as his arms wrapped around you from behind, a soft little nip to your ear to surprise you when deep in thought, accompanied by a teasing smile of course

"Oh? Did I startle you~" He'd coo, pressing closer, eyes half-lidded as he kissed the spot to make up for it

His hands sought you out unconsciously

Your lower back, your free hand, your waist, your shoulder, the back of your head...

Even in his sleep he'd reach for you, pawing around as if looking for something missing, restless unless his hand was on your skin

His favorite thing was to have your back pressed up against his chest, his arms draped around you, and his head resting on your shoulder as his soft honey blonde hair brushed against you

It's the perfect position for him to keep you trapped for as long as he wants, happily refilling his energy by doting on you with loving little caresses

You are absolutely going to be alternating on big and little spoon, because he adores holding you close but also wants to feel safe and reassured that you want to love him, too

It also helps with his nightmares, being practically on top of you with his head on your chest and your hands in his hair, stroking in a calming repetitive way...

He's a little more reserved in public, but not by much

You'll still be receiving good luck kisses and reassuring squeezes often, as well as teasing affection

Oh? Did you happen to blush from him calling you his "perfect love"? Well be prepared for a sly grin and an onslaught of verbal affirmation

His beloved little darling isn't ever going to question his devotion, he'll never let you leave feeling unloved, not as long as you're both breathing...

[yeeterthek33per]

Bound (to happen) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Content/Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, restraints, r being tied down, bottom r, top Steph and Caitlin, strap use, oral r giving and receiving etc.

(This took a much more different and dirty turn than I initially planned this to go but the request said make it spicy.... so, anyway :) Have fun...? )

The fact you hadn't counted on them doing this really put a wrench in your plans.

The initial plan was to go out, party a little and then go home and get a good nights sleep before the game against Brighton tomorrow.

However, your girlfriends had other ideas.

After a rather surprise appearance by one of your childhood best friends, Anna, you'd ended up a little inebriated dancing with her, laughing and drinking.

Caitlin and Steph themselves don't drink much or if at all knowing they'll be starting tomorrow, and also know one of them will be driving home after this.

Of course, that's the plan until they see you practically grinding on someone.

They weren't an overtly jealous pair, knowing more often than not that you were affectionate with most if not all of your teammates and close friends.

However, they had no idea who this woman was, only that you'd jumped into her arms the moment she tapped you on the shoulder.

Quite literally.

It goes on for an hour before they've had enough of the touchiness coming from both of you.

You're about to head over to the bar for more drinks when a hand grabbing yours pulls you away from Anna, who looks a little confused and then slight anger at the sudden strangers she didn't know, grabbing you and pulling you into them.

It sobers you up a little but you recognise the warm body you're pulled into and immediately turn around grinning, completely oblivious to the possessive grip you're now being held in.

"Oh! Hi Baby! You guys haven't met yet. This is Anna, she's a childhood best friend of mine!"

You turn back to Anna who's eyeing them both up closely.

"Anna, these two are my girlfriends! I love them both so much, we play football together!"

It's a little slurred and almost drowned out by the blasting music just ten feet from the group of you.

At that, she relaxes and, still eyeing them up, extends a hand out to the two brooding brunettes, noting the tight grips they have on your waist and arm.

Steph steps forward first, gripping the woman's hand tightly and shaking rather stiffly and she has to nudge Caitlin to repeat her actions.

"Nice meeting you, Anna. We really have to be going though, we've got a game tomorrow and we don't want this one too hungover before a match."

You pout at them, looking between them and Anna, before allowing them to tug you away.

But not before offering up your number to catch up later, which Caitlin and Steph both tense up at, which of course, your oblivious self doesn't notice.

In fact, you don't even question them until you're halfway home and sobering up with a water bottle shoved into your hand and a late night sandwich just about forced down your throat.

Noticing their unusually quiet demeanour, you poke Steph's shoulder from the backseat.

"Yes, Y/n?"

Oh.

You're in trouble.

"Did uh... You two okay?"

"Perfect."

The clipped reply makes you shrink a little into your seat and you catch her eye in the rear view mirror. There's a glimmer of something there you don't recognise at first other than mild annoyance.

Caitlin doesn't respond to your question only glancing Steph's way.

Slowly, you put two and two together when you're just about back to your shared home.

"Is this about Anna?"

"We'll talk when we get home."

Sighing softly, you settle back into your seat.

Only, you don't get the chance to say much when you're just about dragged inside and pushed against the entryway wall, two pairs of hands and legs keeping you pinned to the wall.

Suddenly, this night is going much differently than you expected.

"Anna wasn't-"

A hand gripping your jaw makes you close your mouth.

"Say her name again and you won't cum for a month."

Whimpering under their fiery gazes, Steph moves to slip two fingers past your lips while Caitlin tugs at the hemline of the top you're wearing.

Sucking on the intruding digits, not wanting to push their buttons any further, you lift your arms to allow the piece of clothing to be discarded, and then your pants following that.

Now, pressed down onto the bed, stripped bare, one body sitting pinning your hands above you, the other moving about the closet, you're feeling a little nervous.

"You wanted to be little slut at the club with that woman, you can be a little slut for us instead and take what we give you. Can you be a good girl for us?"

Steph's words make you shiver under her, breathing already hitching, finger tips pressing down on the back of your tongue almost forcing a gag out of you and making your eyes water.

She then removes them for a moment.

When you don't answer straight away, you're met with the same fingers gripping your chin tightly to look back up at her.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Steph."

"Good."

She nods, satisfied and gestures to your other girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of... cuffs?

The younger of the two releases Steph's grip on your wrists only to click them into place above your head.

"Since you can't be good for us lately, we figured a little assistance might be in order. If you're good, we might let you touch later."

The fur covered metal only digs into your wrists enough to provide resistance against any movement outside of their upright position attached together above you, her hands holding the cuffs in place.

Satisfied with your level of restriction, Steph moves to rest between your legs rather than on them.

You're so focused on Steph's movements that you're surprised by Caitlin's sudden presence on the bed once again, this time stripped down to just a sports bra and dildo strapped to her hips.

"You're gonna be a good girl and give us a show, like the good little slut you are."

The tone sends shivers down your spine and you're nodding without even processing too much what was said, though it does leave heat pooling ridiculously fast between your legs.

They'd been like this before but never this dominating and it was making your head spin.

Caitlin manoeuvres so the tip of the strap is pressed against your lips, your head turned accordingly to line up with it.

Slowly, she presses her hips forward, lips parting to accommodate the silicone head.

"That's a good girl."

You have to suppress a keening whine as you start breathing through your nose the deeper she pushes the fake cock.

"Go on then, pretty thing, give us a show."

Doing the best you can with the little leverage you have, you start bobbing up and down (more like back and forth with the way you're currently stuck).

With encouraging hand in your hair, you're being met with an occasional impatient thrust from the forward.

At a particularly rough point, she thrusts and hits the back of your throat harshly and forces another gag from you, at one point even holding your head down on the full length long enough to spring tears to your eyes.

Finally, she let's go and eases off on your head, letting you pull off her with a gasp of air.

"There's a good little slut. Being so good for us."

Steph's words of praise in your ear bring you back to the present.

She'd shifted to a better view point beside you and her hand now has settled on your collarbone, pushing you back flush with the mattress once more.

"Such a pretty little mouth, would hate to see it unoccupied."

Steph gestures to your other girlfriend to shift behind her, between your legs, and you're distracted by the woman stripping down completely, internally groaning at the revealed sight of bare skin and muscle.

Moving your arms so they're relaxed resting on your hips instead of above you, she moves to straddle either side of your head looking down at you with a small smirk.

You whine softly, anticipating getting your mouth on her.

"Ah ah."

She tuts softly when you lean up.

"Beg."

Shivering softly, you lean back to make full eye contact.

"Please Steph, let me taste you."

She raises a brow.

"Please, I need you. I need to taste you. Let me show how good I am."

You whine the last part and she pretends to think for a moment before nodding down at you.

"Go on, baby, you know what to do."

Meeting her halfway down, your tongue dips straight into her and lips wrap around her clit, finally getting a taste of the brunette.

Steph moans above you, hand tangling in your hair with an encouraging tug.

"Fuck, that's it."

Just as you slip your tongue into her, you feel your legs being pushed fully apart and a pair of arms wrap around your thighs, holding them in place.

A mouth on you has your hips canting up against the woman's face and a moan reverberating into the woman above you.

"You make her cum first and you get to cum."

You almost don't hear it with Steph's thighs clamped around your head but as soon as it's out of her mouth and she's returned to sucking your clit, you know she isn't gonna play fair about this.

Moving your tongue, you drag it over her several times, swiftly shaping over her clit and sucking best you can with the little room you have to move your head.

Using every trick you have to make your long time girlfriend cum on your tongue, you can hear her getting more vocal above you.

Curses and praises mixed together angled towards you as she rocks against your mouth, forcing your ministrations to be faster and more harsh on her clit, though you can't find it in you to complain.

You'd gladly spend the rest of your life buried between her thighs, taste exploding on your tongue.

Meanwhile, Caitlin's doubled down on you, her hand slipping beneath her to slide two fingers inside you and to start pumping against your g-spot, angling perfectly while she suctions on your clit.

You can feel yourself soaked on her digits and you realise just how close you are already.

Definitely not playing fair but you don't go down without a hard fight.

Steph's legs just start to shake around you as your stomach starts to clench and you fight off cumming for as long as it takes to ravish the woman sitting on your face.

Surprising yourself, you only let go when you hear Steph's moans peak above you and her thighs clench tightly around you, stomach tightening as she releases onto your tongue, and moan loudly, vibrations pushing her fully over the edge.

Caitlin's movements slow inside you, making small massaging motions to bring you down and your stomach unclenches as well as your legs.

"God baby, so good for us. So good for me, making me cum so well."

She slips off your head leaning down to capture your now very swollen, sex mussed lips with her own, tasting herself on you instantly.

With a small whine as Caitlin runs her thumb over your still sensitive clit, you shift in the cuffs but don't move to touch either of them at all.

Steph notes it with a knowing smirk and more praise spilling from her lips.

"Well done, baby. Trying so hard to be good for us and not move."

When you gasp suddenly, arching your back, Steph looks back and up at the striker now sitting on her haunches between your legs with a raised brow.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

She's got the strap head pressed into you, hips fighting not to completely bottom out in you just yet.

The head alone has you stretched out deliciously and you can barely stop writhing onto the strap.

Steph moves your wrists to back above your head, hand falling to splay across your bare stomach.

"That's it pretty girl, be still for her. It'll fit easier."

Caitlin slowly pushes into your cunt, the shaft stretching you much like the head and when she bottoms out, you can't help the whimper you let out, your eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Steph's other hand leaves your wrists, finding your throat instead, giving a little squeeze as Caitlin pulls slowly out again.

The lack of air makes it a little harder to pace yourself on the stretch when she pushes back in but you find yourself loving every second of it.

Giving a small go ahead nod, followed by a squeaked moan as she starts finding a pace, leaning forward to rest her hands either side of your head as she starts thrusting faster, leaving you keening into the air of the bedroom, head falling back as moans start to fall from your lips louder than before.

"How's she feel, Cait?"

"Fuck so tight, babe."

Caitlin's panting between thrusts, abs clenching with effort as she pushes the strap into you with vigour.

"Taking her cock so well, baby girl."

Her lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing the skin as she tries to avoid disturbing the other woman's rhythm too much.

You're a whining, whimpering, keening mess underneath them, now straining to avoid moving your hands anywhere other than where Steph left them.

"You gonna be a good girl for us? Stay nice and still while she fucks you? Makes you cum?"

Her fingers tighten around your throat.

"Wanna be so good for you!"

You're moaning in time with the harsh thrusts into you, Caitlin fully pistoning her hips forwards, hands coming to wrap around your thighs, pulling you down onto her with every thrust forward.

"Fuck, pretty girl, taking me so well."

Her eyes train over your sweat sheened form, hands gripping and nails digging into the flesh of your legs, which you're sure will leave bruises later.

Not that you can find it in you to mind all that much.

"Please! I'm so close!"

Looking to Steph for permission, when she receives a nod, she plants herself again, putting a final effort into her hips slapping against yours, the strap massaging your insides perfectly.

You can barely keep up with the feeling her of rutting into you, and the coil in your stomach tightens and then finally snaps when her thumb moves to rub your clit hastily.

Steph watches on, mesmerised with the way your body reacts to Caitlin absolutely destroying you.

Watches the way your mouth drops open in one final silent scream, legs quivering, stomach clenching and unclenching as the woman slows to a mild thrust after chasing her own high.

You're whimpering softly with your eyes squeezed shut after a moment, the sensitivity getting to be a lot.

"That's it pretty girl. So good for us."

Steph mutters the words into your ear, teeth grazing and tugging on your earlobe, before pressing soft kisses across the skin.

Caitlin slides out slowly, careful not to budge you too much as your breathing calms.

Tossing the strap off to the side, your arms are finally able to come to rest on your stomach again still cuffed together, Steph moving to the bathroom to grab a cloth and then downstairs for water.

Steph returns, undoing the water to let you drink while waiting for Caitlin to come back, running the damp cloth over you, soft praises uttered in your ear.

"That's our sweet girl, did so well."

After a brief moment of shuffling around, you hear the younger of the two yell out from the closet.

"Babe, where's the keys?"

"I thought you had them."

"...."

"Cait.."

"....Uh?"

Steph's head whips to the open closet doorway.

"They should've been in the packaging, check in there."

"..."

Another moment of some shuffling.

"We threw out the packing yesterday, didn't we?"

"CAITLIN JADE FOORD."

--------------------------

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you were seventeen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[rookieloveskashi]

This Is How It Starts

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, dubcon? (sex pollen), porn with plot, confessions of feelings, voyeurism, masturbation, nipple play, 69, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow jobs, cum swallowing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, POV Kakashi

Word Count: 9.3k (i have no excuse)

Summary: Kakashi is surprised to learn he'll be bringing you—a civilian—on his next mission. He takes every precaution he can think of, but what will he do when a strange new jutsu has an effect that he couldn't predict?

AO3 Link

Kakashi tucked his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for Tsunade’s office door to open. The report from his latest solo mission was stored in one of the front pouches of his flak vest, and he hoped he would manage to get in and out without a new mission scroll replacing it.

It had been nearly four months since Tsunade had been welcomed as Hokage to a village short on shinobi, and Kakashi hadn’t had an hour of free time since. At first, he had worried that his defeat at Itachi’s hands—or eyes, rather—would mean he’d lost some of the new Hokage’s confidence. But by this point, he wished that had been the case.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eye, figuring he may as well catch a few minutes of sleep while he had the chance. So when the door opened only a moment later, Kakashi chose to keep his head reclined and his eye closed, savoring a few more seconds of peace.

“She finally ready for me?” he asked, expecting to hear Shizune sigh before inviting him in.

“I think so…”

The voice that responded did not belong to Shizune. Kakashi finally opened his eye and there you were: the last person he expected to see coming out of the Hokage’s office.

You also happened to be the last person he would mind seeing, but that was another matter entirely.

“Y/N.” Kakashi felt his cheeks heat up as he fixed his posture and rubbed his sore neck. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“First time for everything I guess,” you smiled. “You getting back from a mission?”

Kakashi held up the scroll containing his mission report. “Turn in one, get assigned another.”

A genuine look of empathy colored your face. “I’m sorry.”

“Maah, it isn’t your fault,” he shrugged. “It’s just the way it is right now.”

“Kakashi!” Tsunade shouted from inside her office. “You just gonna stand out there all day?!”

“Duty calls,” he sighed.

“Good luck on your next assignment,” you offered. 

“Thank you.”

Kakashi lingered beside the door, watching for just a moment as you made your way toward the exit down the hall. His curiosity got the better of him, which he quickly made known as he walked into the Hokage’s office.

“What was Y/N doing here?”

Tsunade wore an unamused expression, keeping quiet as Kakashi approached her desk. The two spent a few seconds in a charged silence before she rolled her eyes. “Normally, I would say it’s none of your business, but it happens to be relevant to your next mission.”

Kakashi didn’t even have a chance to make a smart comment about being assigned yet another mission without rest. The fact that you were somehow involved nullified his exhaustion. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve gotten reports that suggest evidence of a forbidden jutsu being developed in the Land of Rivers. All we really know so far is that it’s explosive-based. I need you to go and learn everything you can about it; who’s behind it? What does it do? Is it something that requires a specific chakra nature, or does it have the potential to be more of a widespread problem? I want all the information you can get.”

“Okay… but what does that have to do with Y/N?”

“She’s going with you.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“We don’t have any sensory-type shinobi available.”

He would need to have a medic-nin check his hearing. Or maybe he had recently suffered an untreated blow to the head and just forgotten about it, because Tsunade’s statements just weren’t adding up. “I still don’t see what that has to do with Y/N. She isn’t any type of shinobi.”

“But she could have been.” Tsunade shuffled the papers that were stacked slightly haphazardly on the corner of her desk. “I’ve been looking over her files from her time at the Academy. She outclassed all her peers in terms of sensory skills; but she never took to combat, so the old regime considered her to be too much of a liability.”

That made sense with everything he knew about you. His own time at the Academy was so short, it didn’t overlap yours at all. He remembered hearing about a potential sensory-type dropping out, but at the time, he really hadn’t given it a second thought. Some people just weren’t made for the shinobi lifestyle, and while he could now recognize that fact without bitter judgment, the same couldn’t be said of his opinions back then.

Over the last year or two, he’d gotten to know you as someone kind and considerate, who was easily startled and prone to daydreaming. It made perfect sense that you were content living a civilian’s life; working at a tailor shop, which Kakashi just so happened to frequent with his arms full of battle-torn clothes. Every visit had caused his fledgling attraction to grow into the undeniable crush that he hadn’t yet figured out how to act on.

Admittedly, he’d been looking for an excuse to spend more time with you, but taking you on a mission wasn’t what he had in mind.

“I discussed it with her, and she’s willing to give it another try,” Tsunade continued. “In the future I see her as more of a specialized ninja anyways, probably doing more work with the Intelligence Department than actually going into the field. And that makes this mission basically perfect for her.”

“Right, if you ignore the part where you are sending her out in the field.”

“You’re only meant to gather information, not get into a fight,” she countered. “And even if something happens, who better to handle it than you?”

Kakashi leveled his most unimpressed stare at her, letting her know he wouldn’t be won over by cheap flattery.

“Hey, we have to work with what we’ve got. Assigning you to escort her was actually better than I could have hoped for. Flattery aside, you know you’re a strong shinobi. I have complete faith in you.”

“I still don’t feel right about this. She may have the makings of a great sensory-type, but she’s still a civilian.”

“Well, when you’re Hokage, it’ll be your call.”

“Don’t even joke,” he deadpanned.

“Just, look out for her, okay? I appreciate that she’s even willing to go out there. If she hates it and she never wants to consider being a ninja again, I’ll respect that and back off. But I want to give her the chance to make that decision for herself this time.”

On that—at least—Kakashi agreed.

Not to mention, if he didn’t take the mission, that wouldn’t stop Tsunade from sending you out there with the next clown who was available. He didn’t want any other shinobi to be assigned if it was your well-being on the line.

“I’ll protect her.”

“Great. I told her to meet you at the gate tomorrow morning at 7:00. We want to make a good impression, so don’t be late.”

Kakashi arrived at the gate a half-hour early, his weapons pouches full of sharp, polished kunai and shuriken, as well as explosive tags, smoke bombs, food pills, and anything else that could possibly be useful. Taking a civilian on a mission was even riskier than taking a team of brand-new genin; at least they had the basic skills taught at the Academy. You were coming to him with an affinity for sensing chakra, but that was about it. Instead of sleeping, he’d spent the night checking, double-checking, and triple-checking everything; he would not be caught unprepared for anything that might threaten you.

You arrived with Tsunade about twenty minutes later. Tsunade must have given you a spare uniform; the dark blue outfit looking out of place on your figure. You didn’t wear a flak vest, and Kakashi wondered if Tsunade seriously withheld that just because you weren’t properly ranked.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a self-conscious smile. Kakashi could practically feel the nervousness rolling off of you in waves; from the way you toyed with your hair to the way you shifted your weight where you stood.

He didn’t want you to feel nervous. He wanted you to feel safe.

Safe with him, specifically.

“Alright, good luck on your first mission, Y/N!” Tsunade smiled, standing beside Kakashi and clapping her hand down on his shoulder with arguably too much force. “We’ve got you with the best of the best here, so just focus on identifying the chakra, and let this guy deal with everything else.”

Kakashi brushed Tsunade’s hand away, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I didn’t realize you held me in such high regard.”

“Of course I do! Besides, you guys aren’t even going through any enemy territory. It’ll be a breeze.”

You remained skeptical, looking back and forth between them. “If you say so.”

She may have been overdoing it, but Tsunade was trying to calm your nerves, and he should be doing the same. “She’s right,” he addressed you. “I can understand that you’re nervous, but I swear: I won’t leave you to handle anything on your own.”

Your eyes met his, and Kakashi actually felt his heart skip a beat. There was no way he would let anything get to you.

Kakashi counted himself lucky that the mission was technically all within the Land of Fire’s borders, but he still kept a vigilant watch. Your nervousness abated with every mile that passed without incident, and by the time you arrived at the town near the Land of Rivers’ border, you were almost too carefree.

“Wow,” you gaped at the unfamiliar surroundings. “This place is way different from Konoha. Ah, look! So cool!”

While you took note of the various shops and food stalls lining the busy street, Kakashi only focused on the way certain men in the crowd were noticing you. He stepped up to your side, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you away from your gawking admirers. “Stay close.”

“Hm? I thought this wasn’t enemy territory.”

“It isn’t,” he conceded, “but it isn’t guaranteed to be friendly either.”

“Oh, of course. That makes sense.”

Kakashi tried not to feel proud of the way you nudged yourself just a little closer to him. “I didn’t say that to scare you,” he added. “It’s just best to stay cautious.”

“Understood.”

“Let’s find a place to rest. Tsunade’s given us a stipend for food and lodging.”

“Oh, that’s not a bad deal.”

“I have to be honest; this isn’t typical. It depends on the rank of the mission, among other things. Normally, a mission like this would mean sleeping outdoors and living on shinobi rations.”

Your mouth flattened in a tight line. “I see.”

Tsunade would punch my lights out if she could hear me talking like this. “They aren’t that bad,” he hurried to add. “It’s only on the really long missions that I get tired of them. And of course we have bedrolls so it isn’t completely uncomfortable…”

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “You don’t have to sell me on the whole shinobi thing, even though I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Tsunade asked you to.”

Kakashi nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Not in so many words…”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I wish she hadn’t laid it on so thick. I mean, what good is this mission as a trial run if she sets me up with all this extra stuff that I wouldn’t normally get?”

“You make a good point,” Kakashi agreed. “If you want, we could skip the inn, and spend this mission the way I assume it would really go.”

“Nah, let’s use it. I’m sure you don’t get the chance to take advantage of stuff like this too often. You might as well benefit from her scheming while you can.”

“If you insist,” he smirked.

He kept his hand on your back the rest of the way to the nearest inn, where he rented the cheapest room, knowing he would feel guilty if he used the opportunity to splurge. He realized his mistake as soon as he opened the door, internally screaming when he found that the room only contained one narrow bed.

Jiraiya would have a field day with this.

Kakashi immediately offered you the bed, laying out his bedroll before you felt pressured to start a charitable back and forth. He was the senior on this mission; it was his responsibility to make sure you were comfortable. And that did not include having him share the bed, much as he might wish differently.

As you both settled in, Kakashi tried just to focus on the mission ahead. According to Tsunade’s intel, all those who’d witnessed the jutsu had passed through the woods located southwest of the town. You two would search that area tomorrow in case the jutsu caster left any trace. With any luck, the search would turn up evidence quickly. 

“This way.”

Kakashi gestured for you to follow him, but he was impressed with how little he seemed to actually need to direct you. It didn’t feel like he was leading a civilian. True, an experienced shinobi would be able to read his movements and anticipate the orders before he gave them, but you were keeping up much better than he expected. Maybe it had to do with your sensory skills. Either way, Tsunade’s plans for you might just pan out after all.

He would have to examine his mixed feelings on that, later.

“I think I feel something,” you said. “A concentrated mass of chakra, but it feels strange. Not like when I can feel a person’s chakra.”

“It might be some kind of trap. Be careful where you step.”

You nodded and continued on your way through the forest, keeping your gaze low to the ground. Kakashi had told you what to look for, explaining how to spot wires and other hidden obstacles, and while you would need to get quicker at it, he was pleased to see you’d taken his lesson to heart. Your sensory skills would only help you if the tools were chakra-infused, so familiarity with basic traps would be vital.

“I think it’s coming from this plant.”

Kakashi headed toward you, watching as you started reaching toward a large bell-shaped flower. Just as he was about to reach you, the flower petals unfurled, revealing a small sphere covered in tags.

A paper bomb!?

Kakashi grabbed you by the waist and jumped away only a fraction of a second before the bomb exploded. You landed on your back, Kakashi hovering over you to shield you from the blast. But the explosion wasn’t the type he had been predicting. Where he thought it would be all heat and shrapnel, there was instead a thick cloud of translucent mist, shimmering like dew on a fragile spiderweb. A dud?

Maybe I shouldn’t have tackled her, then.

He couldn’t even feel the density of the mist; if it weren’t for the way it refracted light, he might not have known the bomb had done anything at all.

Kakashi looked down at you. Your eyes were locked on him, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you muttered. “Thanks.”

He scrambled to his feet, then held out his hand to help you up. “This is the chakra I felt,” you said, looking around. “Is it dangerous?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen this before.” Kakashi lifted his hitai-ate and opened his Sharingan to inspect the mist. It was difficult to make sense of what he was seeing. The substance hung in the air, a strange chakra aura hovering like fog. It had expanded in a thirty-meter radius from the source of the explosion—much wider than he had anticipated when he jumped backward. Something about seeing that cloud of chakra made his skin crawl. Even his mask felt too tight against his face.

Looking at you, he noticed some of the chakra had settled on your clothes and your face like pollen. He could even see it pass through your lips as you inhaled. Normally, it was instinctual for Kakashi to limit his breathing in the wake of an explosion. But he’d been so worried about protecting you, his instincts had failed him. He hadn’t even thought to warn you to hold your breath, either.

Whatever it was, it was in both of your systems now.

“We need to get out of it.” Kakashi scooped you into his arms, carrying you out of the cloud of chakra as quickly as he could. He was much faster than you were—it only made sense for him to carry you. At least, that’s what he told himself as he ran, trying to ignore the placement of his hands on your body. When he was clear of the mist and you could both breathe freely, he put you back on your feet. “How much did you inhale?”

“I don’t know… too much, probably. Oh Gods… I feel really warm. Is that bad?”

“I don’t know exactly; but don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled at you, hoping to calm your nerves. “Let’s just get back to the inn, and regroup from there, okay?”

You nodded, putting on a brave face and following him on the way back into town. He could tell you felt guilty, but he didn’t know what else he could say. This jutsu was completely new to him.

Kakashi wished he had more medical training beyond bandaging his own wounds. Maybe there was some way he could be proactive. But with every step closer to the inn, he started to feel his own temperature rising. His flak vest felt gradually heavier on his shoulders and chest, causing his breathing to become more of a chore. He wiped his brow with his forearm and turned to look at you.

Your face was noticeably flushed, and you were panting despite the relaxed pace. You just looked so uncomfortable, tugging at your clothes as you tried to keep up.

“Is it getting worse?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I’m really hot now, and lightheaded… dizzy… You don’t feel any of that?”

“I’m a bit warm too,” he agreed, “but I probably didn’t inhale as much as you.”

“I guess that’s an advantage of your mask,” you offered, lightly smiling before your face twisted into a grimace and you doubled over, clutching your stomach.

“What is it??”

“Cramp—” You took a few sharp breaths as you let the pain pass. He waited as patiently as he could until you turned and looked up at him with your eyes open wide, pupils so dilated he could barely see any color. Your face was red and your lips were parted, like you still couldn’t catch your breath.

“We’re almost back,” he encouraged you. “I’ve got you.”

He said it with the best of intentions, but by the time he got you back to town, you were pulling at the front of your shirt and fanning yourself with the fabric. Your skin had gone from flushed to feverish, and the dizziness had progressed to a point where you were unsteady as you walked. Kakashi tried to steady you by putting his hands on your waist, but you had tensed up so much in response that he shoved his clammy hands in his pockets for the rest of the trip.

As soon as you got in the room, you curled yourself onto the bed in the fetal position. You were rubbing your thighs together and running your hands up and down your sides. Kakashi felt hot under the collar as well, and seeing you writhe on the bed like that certainly wasn’t helping.

“D-do you need water?” he asked, trying to think of any way to help.

“No,” you groaned as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“What can I do—”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

You whined. “It’s embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed abo—”

“I’m horny, okay!??” you hissed. “It’s so bad I can’t even think straight. I feel like I’m going to boil out of my skin. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t…”

You trailed off with a groan, seemingly still in enough control of yourself to stop before finishing that sentence. But it was more than clear what you were about to say, and hearing you voice even that much of the truth forced Kakashi to acknowledge: that was exactly how he felt, too. The heat, the unsteadiness, the tightness in his groin. Loathe as he was to believe it, he understood what you both were up against.

Aphrodisiac.

Kakashi had heard of this type of technique before, but he never knew of anyone using it or being hit by it before. Honestly, he never even thought it was real. But his discomfort was already shifting into insistent pain, and he probably had less of the pollen in his system than you did. If this is how he felt, you had to be going insane.

Bigger problem: he had no idea what would happen if you didn’t do something about it. Is there any treatment other than…

Kakashi cleared his throat. “If you need to… take care of it, you can.”

Your cheeks burned even redder from embarrassment, but Kakashi noticed the way your fingers twitched like you’d been waiting for his permission. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just… watch. I mean—! Keep watch! From—” he frantically pointed to the door, “out there. I will go and guard the door.”

He waited for your answer, only recognizing your thighs rubbing together and the impatient look on your face five seconds too late.

“Right, sorry.” Kakashi slipped out of the room and quickly closed the door, sighing out a nervous exhale and letting his back hit the dense wood.

Idiot.

He brought his hands to his face, still warm from guilt and irritation at himself for saying such a stupid thing. But no wonder—there was so much blood swelling his dick that there was none left for his brain. The feeling between his legs was completely overbearing; heavy, tight, sensitive. Just the way his clothes were brushing against his dick had him biting his lip. 

He tried to clear his mind, putting his arms rigidly at his sides and taking another heavy breath. Unfortunately for Kakashi, that turned out to be a huge mistake. His sharp nose caught a hint of you inside the room, the scent of your arousal making his mouth water and his cock throb.

With that, his self-control went out the window.

His hand slipped under his waistband without command, his fingers wrapping around his shaft and beginning to slowly pump. His eyebrows pinched together, failing to process how his actions brought him twice as much desire as it relieved.

Knowing in the back of his mind how wrong it was, Kakashi pictured you as he touched himself; thinking of how fucking sexy you probably looked.

Would you lie on your back? Legs spread and fingers pumping in and out of your needy hole? Or maybe you’d straddle a pillow and take it for a ride, rubbing that swollen clit against the fabric. Fuck, what if you were in such a rush that you grabbed his pillow? Stuffed it between your legs and rode it into the mattress until you were out of breath and exhausted, leaving your scent saturated in the fabric so he could bury his nose in it later. Like a wild fucking animal.

Shame made his cheeks hot. It was so wrong, but he still couldn’t stop imagining all the ways you might be pleasuring yourself right now; right on the other side of the door. And what dirty thoughts might be running through your head? Was your need so strong that you didn’t have to have anything on your mind? Or could he dare to hope that your time in close proximity meant that he was on your mind? Kakashi pumped a little faster and imagined your pretty flushed face, eyes screwed shut and head full of thoughts of him. 

Knowing how twisted and perverted it was, he put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear the low creaking of the bed; the headboard lightly tapping against the wall in a precise rhythm. You were clearly trying to stay quiet, but your desperation had you huffing out muffled gasps and unsatisfied whines that made his cock ache in his grasp.

He could make you feel so much better. He could have you moaning and crying out his name. Kakashi… Kakashi—

“Kakashi…?”

His eye snapped open and he pulled his hand away from himself in a guilty rush. “A-are you finished?” he asked, sounding breathless and spent even though his dick was still painfully hard and twitching for attention. 

“It’s not working,” you groaned, frustration and anxiety in your voice.

He slowly pushed the door open, giving you time to shout or throw something if he was about to stumble into a scene he shouldn’t see. But you were just sitting cross-legged on the bed, your pants on the floor and your lap covered by a pillow that he couldn’t help but be jealous of. He forced himself to ignore the now overpowering scent of your sex permeating the air; as if he needed more proof of your efforts.

“It isn’t enough.” You looked up at him with red, desperate eyes. “What’s happening?”

Kakashi moved without thinking, kneeling down in front of you at the foot of the bed and cupping your jaw in his palm. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“How?” You nuzzled into his palm, visibly calmed by his touch. Your cheek was so soft, so smooth… He stroked your skin with his thumb, forgetting for a second that he had no right to touch you—especially not with the hand he’d just had shoved down his pants.

Kakashi moved to pull his hand away from you, but you reached up and held him in place. “Don’t…” you breathed. “It feels good.”

“Y/N…” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, although you hardly seemed sorry with the way you reached your other hand forward and grabbed the front of his vest, pulling him closer. “It just… fuck, Kakashi, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.��

You looked him in the eye. “I think… I think I need you.”

The pained tone of your voice cut him deeper than any blade ever had. But he didn’t know what to do, either. He was responsible for you. It was his own fault this was happening to you in the first place. He should have protected you and prevented it, but he had failed. Miserably. Completely blown it.

So… the least I can do at this point is try to help, right?

No. It would be wrong. It would be so incredibly despicably wrong. Despite the lewd way he’d already thought about you, and the painful throbbing between his own legs. 

“I can’t.” He leaned slightly back. “I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

“You breathed it in too,” you said. “It’s not taking advantage.”

“It is,” he insisted. “Even if I tell myself it’s just to help you… it won’t be that for me.”

“Kakash—”

“I have feelings for you, Y/N.” He blurted the truth before he could stop himself. “And I hate to see you in pain but I can’t pretend like I’d be sleeping with you just to get whatever the hell this is out of our systems. I want you. For a while now; not just because of some stupid airborne—”

“Kakashi.” You put both hands on either side of his face. “I want you too.”

Could that be true? Or was it just the poison talking? Why would you want someone like him, who would only complicate your life?

“Y/N, you don’t—”

“Please,” you begged. “Just listen. I won’t have the courage to admit this later.”

You renewed your hold on his jaw, making sure he gave you his full attention. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I didn’t even think I was any good at hiding it; I thought that might have been one of the reasons Lady Tsunade assigned you to the mission with me; because she knew I had a crush on you and she probably figured I would be more likely to do this if it meant being around you. Which, honestly, if that was her plan then she was right. I was too scared to come out here until she said I’d be going with you.”

“R-really?”

“Really, Kakashi. I don’t want to be a shinobi. I didn’t even really want to when I was a kid. I was relieved when I left the program. And I was terrified when Lady Tsunade asked me to do this. I only agreed because I wanted to be with you. And I thought maybe—best case scenario—I could help you in some way and impress you because, I mean, I’m nobody and you’re you. You could have anybody you want, and if you’re saying that it’s me… Kakashi, you have me. You’ve had me the whole time. So at the risk of sounding like an Icha Icha character, just take me already.”

He laughed; caught off guard that someone so funny and bright and beautiful would ever feel that way about him. But the way you apparently felt about yourself was even harder to believe. “You aren’t nobody, Y/N,” Kakashi promised. “And I would tell you everything that’s incredible about you if I weren’t so distracted by how badly I want to kiss you.”

You blushed, your eyes shifting down to his covered mouth. “Can I take off your mask?”

Kakashi nodded. You adjusted your hold on him, gently hooking your fingertips under his mask and slowly tugging it down. He noticed your body start to tremble impatiently, and it made his heart melt; how you still moved slowly, prioritizing his comfort over yours. Your eyes roamed over every centimeter of skin you exposed, taking it in bit by bit until his mask was fully down.

You let the material fall from your fingers, your eyes lingering on his lips. “You’re sure?” you whispered.

“I want you, Y/N. Nobody else.”

He let you look for two more seconds, until he couldn’t hold back any longer. Urgently, he used his grip on your jaw to pull you forward, bringing your mouth to his and kissing you with hunger. You moaned against him, dipping your fingers into his hair and tugging to get him closer, shifting your legs to wrap them around his torso. In turn, he dropped his hands to your waist and hugged you close, kissing you over and over and over again. He couldn’t get enough. The feel and taste of your lips had him going out of his mind; even just the sound of each kiss drew him back in.

“Mmm, Kakashi…” You hummed between kisses, sighing his name into his mouth and running your fingers through his hair. 

He put his hand on your shoulder and steadied you as he pulled back—only an inch. “I need to know this is real,” he panted. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“The only thing I regret is not telling you how I feel sooner,” you smiled. “Sounds like we could have been doing this for a while now.”

Like a force that only nature itself could produce, you and Kakashi came back together, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth as you tugged at his shirt. He crawled forward, causing you to lie flat on the bed. He grabbed the pillow you’d held between your legs and tossed it across the room. He may have been fantasizing about that pillow before, but now it was only an object in his way.

Nothing was going to keep him from you anymore.

He prowled over you, letting his heavy bulge press against your clothed core. Your body was warm to the touch, and he felt the heat between your legs as you rubbed against him. You each moaned into the other’s mouth at the contact. Despite the layers of fabric between you, rubbing himself between your legs still brought him a thousand times more relief than his hand had. He could only imagine how good your bare cunt would feel.

Soon, he would do so much more than imagine. And it seemed you had the same idea.

“Take off your clothes,” you grinned as you unzipped his vest.

Kakashi hummed as he shrugged off the garment without breaking the kiss. “The mask wasn’t enough?” he teased.

“Not even close.”

Kakashi gripped the front of his shirt and tore it over his head, admiring the way you blushed even harder at the sight of more of his skin, your eyes enjoying everything from his collarbones to his silver happy trail. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for permission to undress you as well. You nodded, letting him lift your shirt off over your head and giving him access to your gorgeous tits that he’d thought about on more than one occasion; when he couldn’t fall asleep without getting himself off.

He leaned down to suck harsh kisses into the soft flesh of your exposed cleavage. It felt so right to have you on his lips. He couldn’t resist the urge to bite down, leaving teeth marks all across your chest while you giggled and squirmed in his hold.

With every ounce of skill he had, Kakashi reached around your back to unhook your bra, flinging it away from your chest and groping your breasts like the shallow pervert he didn’t want you to think he was, in spite of his actions. But he didn’t stand a chance. Back home, you’d nearly caught him (more than once) ogling your chest in the midst of casual small-talk. Denying himself now—with you so beautiful and willing underneath him—would have been out of the question. And they were just so soft, reacting eagerly to the feeling of his rough palms and fingertips. If not for the influence of the pollen, he would have been happy to play with your tits all day.

Your nipples pebbled under his touch, creating the perfect peak for him to suck into his mouth. His name continued to tumble off your lips like a prayer. He never wanted you to stop saying it. It sounded so good in your breathless voice. Kakashi tested your limits by trapping your nipple between his teeth, biting down with more and more pressure until you were pulling on his hair and trembling below him.

“Shhhhh.” He licked your nipple to soothe it, apologizing for the rough treatment. “Just needed to see how much you could take.”

You laughed. “What exactly are you planning to do to me?”

His answer came in an emphatic groan. “Everything you’ll let me do.”

You pulled his mouth back to yours, kissing him harder and rolling your hips into him. “Pants—” you gasped. “Off.”

Kakashi chuckled against your lips, reluctantly pulling away and sitting up on his knees. He flicked open the button of his pants and grabbed the waistband of both his pants and his briefs, pulling them down slowly. It had less to do with teasing you and more do with making sure he didn’t cum in his pants, but the tortured and hungry look on your face was certainly a bonus.

Your eyes darkened as he exposed himself inch by inch; his skin taut and sensitive, veins standing out prominently all the way down his shaft. Finally, he took pity on you, bringing the elastic down past his engorged head. His cock sprang up and smacked into his stomach, a wet glob of precum sticking to his abs.

“Gods… Kakashi…” Your lips parted, your tongue darting out to wet them. “You’re so big.”

You started crawling forward, eyes hungrily glued to his dick. It twitched for your attention with the same persistent need he felt throughout his whole body. His fingers twitched with the ache to touch you; his lips tingling—needing contact with your skin.

Desperately, he reached out and pulled you to your knees to kiss you. You giggled and slid your hand down his chest, cupping his hot, weeping cock with a gentle grip that turned him into putty.

You maneuvered your hand around him, touching and stroking to familiarize yourself with his size and weight. Kakashi’s head tilted back as he let out a deep groan from deep in his chest.

“Feel good?” you whispered, kissing your way from his jaw down his neck. 

Kakashi was so turned on, he was afraid to speak—afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make a sound beyond a pathetic mewl. Instead, he settled for vigorously nodding his head. Shivers erupted along his skin. The only thing on his mind was the need for more relief. His hand flew up to envelope yours, urging you to pump faster. “Keep touching me,” he exhaled. “Fuck.”

Teasingly, you started moving your mouth down the planes of his chest. “I want to taste it.”

Kakashi threaded his free hand into your hair, pulling your mouth back to his a bit more roughly than he would have if he’d been in his right mind. “Wanna taste you too,” he moaned. “Need to.”

He tossed you back onto the bed, crouching down and positioning his face between your legs. The center of your panties was drenched, and his eyes dilated like a predator locked on its prey.

Kakashi pressed his face against your panties, inhaling your scent and exhaling in a shaky groan. You smelled like something to be devoured, and he would be damned if he let it go to waste. His mouth watered, nearly as wet as your cunt. “You smell so fucking good.”

He couldn’t wait anymore. Kakashi flattened his tongue and licked along the drenched fabric, too impatient to think to take them off. You squirmed and tugged on his hair, breathless moans and pleas falling from your lips. He rutted into the mattress, kicking his pants and boxers off as he yanked your panties to the side and lapped at the mess between your legs.

It was incredible, but those panties were gonna be the death of him. Kakashi reached into his pile of discarded clothes, hooking the end of a kunai on one finger. He spun it around the digit to adjust his grip before cutting your panties down to shreds so he could finally have full access to your heat.

Now that there was no pesky underwear in his way, he hooked his arms under your thighs and rubbed your pussy over his face until he was covered in your juices. You squirmed, but there was no way he was letting your cunt get away from his mouth. Kakashi feasted on you like a man who’d lived on nothing but bread and water his whole life.

Dumb lustful indecision fogged his brain and made his muscles clench with impatience. If he had his way, he would go slowly. Enjoy himself. He would savor you; kiss and lick and suck until your cute little cunt was prepped to handle him. But the influence of the chakra pollen was too strong. His cock was no longer begging for attention—it was demanding. And humping the mattress wasn’t gonna cut it.

Not that he would settle for that, anyway. His aching hardness would only be soothed by the softness of your body.

Kakashi huffed in frustration, summoning the strength to tear his face from between your legs in order to climb fully on top of you. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, gripping your jaw and urging it open before rubbing his thumb over your tongue. “Need this.”

You looked so fucking cute, nodding with your wide eyes and your pink cheeks, and Kakashi wished he was in the right mind to take his time with you. He was as careful as he could manage, rolling onto his back and manhandling you into position above him—on all fours, your cunt poised just over his face and your mouth inches from his dick.

“There we go,” he proudly grinned, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and pulling you down to smother himself.

You moaned as you rolled your hips into him, desperate to ride his face. You bit down on his hip before licking one long trail from his navel down to his lap and up the length of his throbbing cock. 

His hips automatically lifted off the mattress to follow you. Kakashi shuddered as his head slipped past your lips and found its home in the warmth of your mouth. The long-awaited pleasure was indescribable; he only knew that nothing had ever felt this good, and he would be lucky to last five minutes.

Kakashi buried his face in your dripping cunt, wasting no time before running his tongue and nose through your slippery folds. You whimpered, grinding down on his face and forcing your own mouth further down his shaft while you pumped the base with your hand to make up for what you couldn’t fit.

He snarled against your folds when he felt you take his tip into your throat, gagging and sputtering while saliva drooled from your mouth. He lapped at your clit with frenzied licks, desperate to make you cum before he blew his load down your throat. Your clit throbbed, still so unsatisfied despite your earlier struggle.

You said you needed him. He had to prove how good he could make you feel.

Kakashi focused all his efforts on your clit, expertly reading your reactions and memorizing what was too much and what made you search for more. When he felt your thighs tremble, he locked down his pace and pressure, single-mindedly working you to an orgasm that left his face a sopping mess.

He kissed your hole like it was your mouth, lazily licking up your juices from your still-quivering cunt. Even at the height of your orgasm, you were still spoiling his cock—sucking and licking and pumping—and now that he’d finally gotten you off, he was more than ready to do the same.

Kakashi threaded his fingers up your scalp and through your hair, gripping you and bracing you before he started thrusting into your mouth. He felt more of your saliva drooling down his shaft and dripping onto his balls, easing his frenzied movements. With only his own pleasure on his mind, he felt his nerves race to the edge almost immediately.

“Shit… I’m gonna cum…” he panted. “Will you swallow it for me?”

You responded by humming around his dick, massaging his balls to encourage him.

“Fuck—” he grunted, “Get ready, ahh—”

The first pulse was almost blindingly satisfying. Kakashi quickly let go of your head so he wouldn’t drown you, too relieved to be embarrassed by how much cum was spurting from his tip. It felt like it would never stop, making his eyes roll back in euphoric bliss.

He wrapped his arms around your hips and hugged to bring your cunt back to his face, pressing a flurry of kisses over your folds while you drank down everything he gave you. Rather than feeling overstimulated as his cock twitched one last dry time, he instead felt his body giving itself back over to the pleasure of your mouth. It still just felt good, and he could tell from the way you were riding his face that your satisfaction was short-lived, too.

It took more willpower than he was willing to admit to pull himself away from you. “Y/N. Hold on—come here.”

You crawled your way up his body, leaving wet kisses trailing from his pelvis up to his jaw. Kakashi positioned you to lay on top of him, pulling your mouth to his and indulging in another set of deep, passionate kisses.

He smirked against your lips when he felt you start to roll your hips into him. “You want more, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you whined. “I’m sorry; it felt better at first, but…”

Kakashi settled you with another kiss. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.”

“You too?”

He reached between your bodies, gripping his cock and sighing at the pleasure. “It shouldn’t be possible for me to still be this hard.”

You looked away bashfully. “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

“I’m not.” Kakashi rolled over to put you on your back. “True, I didn’t imagine it would happen quite like this,” he blushed, “but I did imagine this more often than I should admit.” He kissed you again, hoping he could explain himself without his greedy dick undermining his words. “I’ve imagined a whole life with you. And if this is how it starts… I’m not sorry at all.”

“Kakashi…” you whispered, blinking up at him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clutching him close. You pulled him into another kiss, your fingers burrowing into the roots of his hair. “In that case, neither am I.”

Kakashi cupped your head in his hand and cradled you as he deepened the kiss. He could feel your body humming with anticipation below him. He ran his other hand down the outline of your body, taking his time as much as he could stand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he exhaled. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please…” You whined against his mouth, titling your hips for friction. “Kashi, I need you.”

He smirked, kissing you one more time before sitting back on his calves. His eyes roamed your body hungrily as he gripped his cock. “Normally, it would hurt my pride that you still needed more…” He stroked himself once, twice before slapping his cock down on your tummy. “…But hearing you beg for my cock definitely makes up for it.”

You blindly reached forward and dug your nails into his thighs. “Gods, please put it in…”

His dick throbbed, a pearly string of precum dripping onto your stomach. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he had you pinned to the mattress, begging him to destroy you. 

He rubbed his cock along your slippery folds, his sticky precum mixing with your arousal. The relief from that alone was nearly indescribable. But still, Kakashi felt like if he didn’t get to sink his cock inside your perfect little hole, he wouldn’t survive.

You shamelessly squirmed beneath him, and he knew you felt the same as he did.

“You need this cock, baby?”

“I do Kakashi I need it so bad…”

“Don’t worry,” he cooed. “I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

Kakashi lined himself up with your entrance; something in his brain snapping at the sight of being so close. His hips thrust forward, burying nearly his entire length in one shot. You shrieked, clawing at his back while wrapping your legs around his hips. Your plush walls sucked him in, the pleasure so immediate that he collapsed down onto your chest, his hips instinctively rearing back and plunging forward to feel more and more.

Kakashi forced himself to slow down, peppering soothing kisses over your shoulder. “Sorry,” he huffed, unable to suppress the grin spreading over his face. “It’s just so hard to hold back. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Me too,” you panted, thrusting up to meet him. “Keep going. Please.”

Your mouth had felt incredible. But your cunt—it was where his dick belonged. It was designed for him. Even with all the teasing and foreplay, you were still so tight. And soft. And warm. And wet. Walls gripping him, suction pulling him in, drawing him deeper; he couldn’t fight it. He was only human. But in that moment, he could swear you were something more.

“Fuck… you feel so good, better than I even—hgnh, Y/N baby…”

Your breath passed by his ear in overwhelmed whimpers that were lost in the loud smacks of his skin against yours. He was reaching so deep, he swore he felt the tip of his cock prodding at your cervix. 

“T-tell me if I’m hurting you,” he panted, letting his hips continue to slam into yours. “If it’s too much, I’ll…”

You’ll what? …Stop?

Even the thought of stopping made him grind his teeth in protest. His hips thrust even harder, proving that he had no say in the matter. 

Stopping was not an option. He was gonna fuck your needy, precious little cunt until it was ruined. And maybe then some. 

Your nails dug deeper into his back, his name rolling off your lips in desperate gasps mixed with tiny sounds of frustration. “Kakashi, don’t stop, fuck, I…”

“Yeah?” he grinned, digging his hands into your hips and angling you perfectly to take his every thrust. He pressed his chest into yours and latched his lips to your exposed throat. Covetously, he sucked a hickey into your throat while he kept pounding away, claiming every last bit of you for himself. It was all for him. He would make sure of it, leaving his mark on you with his mouth and hands so that no one could question who you belonged to.

You babbled praises, tongue lolling out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in your head. “Like that,” you gasped. “Just like that—”

Primal intuition guided his movements. He folded your left leg backward, grunting into your clavicle at the bone-deep gratification that raced along his nerves. You hiked your right leg a little higher on his hips. Desperately, he brought his mouth to yours, kissing you and panting, pulling away just for a glimpse of the cock-drunk look in your eyes before he quickly kissed you again.

He needed to feel you with every part of himself. It wasn’t enough to continuously stuff himself balls-deep inside you. He wanted to taste your lips and feel your body, leaving nothing untouched. He put his right hand over your breast, immediately rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger as he pushed your leg back further and rubbed himself over the sensitive area behind your clit.

You tossed your head back with an indulgent cry, pleading for more. “There… don’t stop!”

“Right there?” Kakashi felt your walls flutter around him, and he buried his face in your neck. It was too good; he wasn’t gonna last, and once he came this time, it would be the last of his stamina. But you asked him not to stop, and he wouldn’t. Not until he gave you what you needed. “What else? I’ll do anything you want.”

“W-want you to cum with me.”

Kakashi gasped out a curse, pounding away at your sweet spot. “Tell me where you want it,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

“I-inside. Cum inside. Please.”

Kakashi moaned, feeling the muscles in his pelvis tighten with enthusiasm. “Haa, oh yeah?” He pressed his pelvis down harder, increasing the friction on your clit. “Want me to—ngh—fill you up?”

Instead of answering, you yanked his head back within reach of your mouth and kissed him, moaning into his mouth and clinging to him. Kakashi couldn’t keep his answering smile at bay; he was too lost in his own delirious happiness. If he could have held out forever—stayed just like this—he would have.

But he didn’t have to. These feelings were real. After this, he still had hours, days, years to spend exchanging kisses and breaths and affection with you.

Kakashi grabbed your ass with bruising strength as his orgasm hit. His stomach twisted and his balls contracted, signaling a rush of endorphins that made his toes curl and his thighs shake. You squeaked against his mouth, pulled directly over the edge with the first pulse deep at the base of his dick. 

You broke away from his mouth, but your limbs clutched to him as your own orgasm sent tremors through your body. “K-ka-kashi-i!” The broken sound of his name slipped past your lips over and over in a desperate whisper.

“I’ve gotcha.” Kakashi held you close, riding out his intense high while giving you something to stabilize yourself. “I’m right here. I’ve gotcha.”

The muscles in your cunt repeatedly tightened around his cock to wring out every last drop of cum he still had to offer. The tug beneath his navel tugged beyond the point of pain, but his cock still pulsed; keeping pace with the demands of your cunt until you finally came down. It left him panting, his forehead resting on yours as he stared into your eyes.

No trace of the jutsu remained; leaving just the two of you in a bubble of heady, genuine affection that quieted the last of his fears. When his lungs relaxed, he titled his head to catch your lips in a sweet, devoted kiss. You hugged him to your chest and answered his kiss with the same promise.

He stayed like that, blissed-out and content, until your spent pussy started quivering from overuse. He leaned away to give you space, but he was surprised when you reached out and grabbed his thighs.

“Wait,” you whispered, your bent legs trembling on either side of him. “Slowly.”

Kakashi nodded at you, his eyes sleepy under heavy eyelids. But he was careful as he pulled out, blushing at the sight of the milky fluid dripping from between your legs. You shivered at the empty feeling and finally let your legs fall to the mattress.

Yes, the jutsu had worn off. But you looked so beautifully wrecked, he almost believed he was ready to go again.

He gently cleaned you off with the sheet, resolving to destroy the evidence a little later and leave some money behind for replacement linens. It would have to be good enough; he was too exhausted to worry about a more discreet alternative.

The only thing he cared about was you; making sure you felt comfortable and safe, showing you that he meant every word.

Because he was already sure that he loved you—and when he inevitably told you sooner rather than later, he didn’t want there to be any room for you to doubt him.

Kakashi gently brushed your hair back from your warm face. You smiled up at him, nuzzling against his palm. He didn’t waste a second before leaning back down to sweep soft kisses over your cheek and neck. You giggled, then turned your head to catch his lips with your own, your fingers trailing along his sides and guiding his weight to press down into you.

Carefully, he rolled onto his side, cupping your jaw to make sure he didn’t break the kiss. You let him kiss you to his heart’s content until you eventually broke away, blushing and nuzzling into his neck. 

Kakashi wrapped his arms around you. “You okay?”

“Mhmm, just worn out,” you sighed. “How about you? You alright?”

“Me?” He hugged you closer and kissed the top of your head. “I’ve never been better.”

You hummed warmly, returning his embrace and lightly kissing his collarbone. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow,” you guessed. 

“I’ll carry you home if I have to.”

“What about the mission?”

“We learned more than enough about the jutsu for Tsunade to send a new team out here with some equipment to protect them from its effects. They’ll gather samples, and based on the way it worked, she should be able to develop an antidote.”

You snuggled closer into him, giving over to the intense wave of exhaustion left behind. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Get some sleep,” he whispered. “We’ll head back to Konoha when we wake up. And once we get back, I think I owe you a date.”

► masterlist

[ilyrafe]

𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: brief sexual innuendo, rafe being a softie!!!!

word count: 2.6k (i *might* have gotten carried away i'm so sorry lol)

a/n: this is a sequel to late night and also based on this, so thanks @keziahcore ! your mind is literally everything!

it’s almost like a sixth sense.

rafe feels your absence from the bed, and immediately becomes agitated. he turns on the lamp next to his bed and looks for any sign that you’re still there, and finds your small handbag on the armchair, which makes him just slightly relieved. 

when he looks at the clock, he sees that it is almost two in the morning. the bathroom door is ajar and the lights are off, which means you’re not there. before he can leave his room looking for you, you return, holding a glass of water, wearing only his shirt to cover yourself up.

“where were you? why did you leave me here?”

he can’t control this agony, this anguish that always catches him off guard when he finds himself alone. he can’t help feeling like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. the smallest things you do seem to trigger him massively, and he hates that. he hates that he ends up being rude and harsh to you, because you’re always so understanding and sweet.

even he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

“i was thirsty and went downstairs to drink some water.” your tone is sweet and calm, which makes him feel like shit.

his face changes, as he seems to calm down. you didn’t leave him, you just went to get some water. you’re there, your stuff is there, you’re not going anywhere.

“next time, leave a glass here. i don’t like it when you do that.” he says in a much softer tone, but he’s still upset that his sleep got interrupted.

“do what? get hydrated?” you joke, trying to lighten up his mood.

he rolls his eyes and huffs. don’t make him tell the truth.

“go back to bed. i’m tired, alright? i had a long day.”

“actually, i was going to read a book. i’m not sleepy and i don’t want to lie down right now.”

is it so hard to understand that he wants you to be close to him so that he feels safe enough to get a decent night’s sleep?

“you can read on the bed.”

“you won’t mind the lamp on?”

“no, just get the damn book and come back to bed.”

you laugh and nod, picking up the book from his desk and following him to his bed. rafe gets to his spot and as you sit down, he places one hand on your bare thigh and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

while he dives deep into his necessary rest, you start reading. it’s that book, in cold blood by truman capote. you don’t know if rafe is a reader, he never really talks about books with you.

every once in a while, you look down at your thighs to see his hand, firmly holding you, to make sure you won’t leave. this small gesture makes you feel stupid. stupid to believe he might feel something other than lust for you. rafe makes you question your beliefs and that itself makes you feel overwhelmed.

sometimes you want to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. and you have tried countless times. he’s good for you in the same intensity he’s bad. to say you’re scared to ask him what you are would be an understatement, but you just would like some clarification, because you don’t beg the people you’re casually fucking to stay the night almost every night and throw a tantrum when they leave to get some water.

deep down, you know you’re more scared to hear you’re just an easy fuck. at this point, this would tear you apart.

being with rafe is a challenge. it’s like running a marathon you know you will not get to the finish line, and yet, you keep running.

when it’s almost four in the morning, you close the book and turn the lamp off. finally, sleep comes to you, and you settle into his bed, still holding rafe’s hand, which never left your thigh. with the touch, rafe wakes up, and this time he is no longer agitated.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you say, as you snuggle into the mattress.

“you- what time is it?” he asks, adorably confused and sleepy.

“it’s almost four.”

“and you’re going to sleep now?”

“yeah. go back to sleep, it’s early.” you say softly, placing a hand on his cheek, and he complies, pulling you close.

(...)

rafe’s alarm clock rings promptly at seven in the morning. he turns it off and goes back to his previous position: hugging you.

your hair smells like coconut and your skin is always soft. he never wants to not be touching you. it’s like your body was made to be next to his. for some reason, just your presence is enough to make him feel calm and at peace.

he places the softest kiss on your shoulder, enjoying the quietness that only early mornings can give him. the sweet sound of birds chirping outside makes him forget about everything else. rafe only has you in his mind (and in his arms).

you wake up and soon turn to face him. rafe has the most adorable sleepy face, and you might never stop melting over him. seeing him up close will never not be amazing. he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. he probably has the most beautiful shade of blue in his eyes.

“go back to sleep.” he whispers.

“‘m not sleepy anymore.” you mumble as you rub your eyes, which rafe finds captivating. “hi.”

“hi,” he smiles. “you only slept for three hours, sleep some more.” he insists, and you feel a tone of concern in his voice, but maybe it’s just your sleep giving you that impression.

“i’m okay, rafey.”

rafey. he hates that stupid nickname, but when it comes out of your mouth, he wants to legally change his name to it.

“you’re gonna be tired.”

“no, i’m not. i don’t normally sleep a lot.”

rafe frowns not because he’s confused - he obviously isn’t. he’s just not liking what you’re saying. he doesn’t like the idea of you struggling with whatever that may be. rafe knows damn well how bad it is to be sleep deprived, he doesn’t want you going through that.

“you have insomnia?”

“i guess i do,” you shrug. “i don’t really know. i just don’t sleep a lot. i wish i did, though. i get so jealous when i see you sleeping for hours on end.” you smile sweetly at him. “you’re so relaxed. must be nice…”

you let go of rafe after leaving a timid kiss on his lips, and stretch before getting up and going to his bathroom to start your morning routine.

after a quiet breakfast, rafe gives you a ride home, and he can’t hide his concern about what you said.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” you tell him, with the sweetest smile you always have.

“of course. uh, about that sleep thing… if you need help with that… i’m here.”

“rafe, i think you might be a sex addict.” you joke, really not understanding what he meant. he isn’t talking about sex. the one time he isn’t talking about sex, you don’t get it.

“well, i’m just one call away.”

you chuckle and intend to kiss his cheek, but rafe is quick enough to turn his face and make you kiss his lips. you laugh at his antics.

silly rafe is your favorite. if only other people got to see this side of him.

he watches you leave his car and get inside your home. the strange feeling of loneliness comes back almost immediately, but it gets him thinking. it has to be some sort of irony that the person that quite literally helps him sleep isn’t sleeping.

(...)

only two days have passed and rafe already needs you to spend the night at his house again. he is so tired and exhausted. he takes out his phone and quickly types a message.

rafe: are u busy right now? can i pick u up?

you don’t tend to take long to respond to his texts, but this time, an hour goes by and nothing, so rafe starts to feel that unbearable anguish again, and starts to think that you left him and that you found someone better to spend you time with.

impulsively, rafe facetimes you, and you answer. from your face alone, he can see the tiredness in your eyes. or rather, in your dark circles. you’re in your bedroom, which makes him feel calmer.

“hi, rafey. sorry, i just got my phone.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m studying for my exams.”

“i just wanted to know if i could pick you up.”

“i’dd love to,” you smile. “but it’s not a good idea, i need to study and i have a mountain of books to read until tomorrow if i want a good grade, which i do.”

“you’re tired, you should rest.” he advises, visibly worried.

“nothing a can of red bull can’t fix.” you say showing him the can.

“y/n, please go to sleep.”

something about his request makes you angry. maybe it’s the stress, or the fact that this time rafe is right.

“rafe, you’re not my boss. i need to hang up, i got shit to do.”

before he can protest, you hang up the call, and surprisingly, rafe doesn’t get angry. this is what it’s like when he’s sleep deprived.

as always, rafe wants to take control of the situation, so he puts on a hoodie, grabs his car keys and leaves his house to go to yours. it’s late at night, and rafe knows your parents are probably asleep.

the path is short, and soon he arrives in front of your house and the light is on in your bedroom, which tells him that you are still up. carefully, rafe gets out of his car and walks to the back of your residence, and climbs the wall, always making sure he doesn’t get caught by anyone. finally, rafe gets on the small balcony of your room and sees you surrounded by papers, books and notebooks. it’s a mess.

he knocks on the glass door, which startles you, but you soon calm down when you see it’s him. you almost run to open the door, but your face isn’t the happiest.

“what are you doing here, rafe?”

“nice to see you, too.” he ironizes as he steps inside your bedroom. “i have a proposition for you.”

“i’m so not in the mood, rafe…”

“listen to me.” he says. “i’ll… i’ll help you out with this stuff, as long as you let me help you sleep.”

“i don’t wanna have sex.”

“i’m not talking about sex.”

oh.

“you mean… sleep? like, really sleep?”

“yeah. i don’t like that you sleep so little. you’re becoming cranky.”

you chuckle at the last bit. you can’t stay mad at him, can you?

“that’s a nice offer, rafe, but what do you know about biology?”

“i’ll have you know i was a good student.” he pouts and you laugh. “even if i don’t know what you’re studying, i’ll help you out.”

it takes you a few seconds, but it’s decided. your body is about to give out, you really need to rest. you can’t absorb any more information. a good sleep might even help you learn whatever you need.

“okay.”

rafe smiles and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you begin to organize all your notes and books on your desk and rafe begins to undress down to his underwear, and gets comfortable on your bed. he realizes this is his first time sleeping on your bed, and he already likes the faint smell of rosemary that your bedroom exudes.

you have such a pretty bedroom. the walls are painted in the softest shade of blue, and you have books everywhere. no wonder you’re so smart, you read a lot.

the wooden furniture gives an earthy feel to your room, contrasting with the delicacy of the light blue walls. in the photos of the small mural on the wall, rafe realizes that he wanted to be there, present in the photos, and maybe, in a photo with you. you are always smiling and being hugged by someone, or hugging them. you are like that, you are magnetic.

you finish organizing your things and quickly change into a shirt of rafe’s that you hope he doesn’t recognize. it’s big and comfortable, and it makes you feel close to him when he’s far away.

the lamp next to your bed is on, so you turn off the main light in your room and go to your bed, meeting rafe, and he has the smallest smile on his lips. it’s ironic how having sex and being naked doesn’t feel as intimate as simply sleeping together does.

“are your parents home?” he asks.

“no, why?”

“so i could have come through the door, huh.”

“yeah.” you laugh.

a brief moment of silence sits between you two, as you’re staring at each other’s eyes. rafe is mesmerized and terrified at the same time. this - whatever this is - feels so nice and so foreign. he knows damn well he isn’t one to want to just sleep with someone, let alone climb up a wall to just sleep with someone.

rafe cameron is in love, and he is utterly terrified.

“what are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper.

your blinks are getting slower and slower. rafe begins to run his hand through your hair, combing them back, and touching the skin of your neck and shoulders ever so softly.

thinking about how much i want to be with you and how fucking scared i am.

“nothin’. close your eyes.”

you do, not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t keep them open any longer. 

why do you feel the safest with someone as dangerous as rafe cameron? someone who deals with the shadiest people around, that has anger issues and violent behavior.

that tried to drown his own sister.

why none of that matters when you’re in his arms? are you actually insane?

probably.

(...)

as soon as you wake up, you see your bed empty, and rafe’s clothes are no longer on the floor, where he had left them last night. it was to be expected, but you still feel disappointed. he was so sweet last night.

when you look at the clock, it’s already past nine in the morning, which means you’ve slept, surprisingly, eight hours straight. damn, you really were sleep deprived.

the sound of your stomach begging for food makes you get out of bed.

when you leave your bedroom, you hear the sound of the tv on and get scared. slowly, without making any noise, you go down the stairs, trying to find out if your house has been invaded, but it would be strange, as it is daytime. soon you see rafe walking around your house.

he didn’t leave?

it’s like you’re not even there. you get to watch rafe make himself comfortable in your kitchen, looking for stuff to put on the table. there are two delivery bags on the counter, which means he bought food, but the gesture warms your heart, which was merely shattered.

“the cutlery is in the second drawer next to the sink.” you say, startling him a bit.

“jesus. can you, i don’t know, announce you’re in the room? i almost dropped your coffee.”

you laugh.

“sorry, rafey. what are you doing, i thought you had left.”

“uh, i bought breakfast for y- us.” he says. you look inside the bags and you can tell he ordered possibly everything you have eaten from that place. “c’mon, i ordered that vegan shit you like, your coffee and even a pretzel.”

you follow him to the table and you both begin helping yourselves. this isn’t your first time having breakfast with him, but it does feel like it’s a first.

for the first time, you don’t want to leave him.

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[dontexpectmuch]

Jude with a mechanical engineering student, and she's working on f1 and is a good friend of the drivers and jude gets jealous and hard launches at a race? She works for redbull and is friends with the real Madrid guys, ty, God bless

jude is aware of how much attention he gets, no matter where he goes or whom he talks to. so many people shy away from talking to him due to all the eyes that were on him, yet he tries to stay positive and look at the bright side of the picture. as a rising star, it can be hard to meet someone that would willingly hide their relationship from the world, though when he got to know you, he felt like his prayers have had finally been answered.

it was the miami grand prix he had been invited to, ferrari have shown their interest about his appearance multiple times and when his other friends finally had the time to come along, he immediately went to the race and enjoyed his time there.

it was also the place where he met the cute engineering student that was walking out of the rivals garage, cute cap with the official team shirt on, baggy pants and a book in hand. he sneaked away from the group and followed you to the water fountain in the middle of the two garages, desperately trying to look cool yet uninterested.

so when you two fall into a conversation [slight argument] about the team and who would win the race, jude knew that he had to keep in touch with you, exactly what he did.

now, two years later, the two of you have been in a private and secret relationship, something both of you enjoyed at the beginning. the relationship blossomed quietly, only his most trusted friends knew about it, same with you. having an intelligent partner who works for one of the best sports team ever is something that jude is incredibly proud [and turned on] of, it’s like a match made in heaven. no one could disturb your little bubble of happiness and peace, and you would like to keep it that way as long as you can.

but these days, jude really wants to post about his relationship, just to mark his territory. just to let all of those sneaky, weird, [and attractive, fuck] drivers know that their ‘friend’ slash engineer was off the market.

especially now, when all you talk about is the garage and the people you work with.

“well, and then i told max to-“

you immediately stop talking when you hear jude let out an annoyed sigh, eyes wide as you look at your boyfriend.

the atmosphere around you is quite comfortable, you’d say, or at least it is to you. it has been quite some since you were able to sit down and have a nice, home cooked meal together. normally your schedules clash during the week, and weekends were spent outside the house, exploring new places and trying new things.

and normally, jude would love to hear you talk about your week, about the new stuff you learned that he definitely did not understand, but the sparkle inside your eyes made it all worth it. he didn’t know why he is so annoyed about you talking about the person you literally work with, more likely work for, but just hearing the name drop from your lips makes him want to go and shoot a ball at all of their heads.

“uh, you okay, my love?” your concern for him makes jude melt, and he wishes that he could just ignore this negative feeling growing inside of him, yet he simply can’t.

he shrugs, corners if his lips turning slightly down, “don’t know, why don’t you ask your little friend max. that’s what you always do, right?”

he knew that this was the moment he royally fucked up, no turning back now.

when you frown and look at him with those confused eyes, jude gets even more worked up than he should.

as if you don’t know what he is talking about.

“i beg your pardon, jude?”

you called him ‘jude’, meaning you were also getting worked up about the situation, well, his behavior.

he scoffs again, getting up from the table to put his empty plate away.

it was delicious, he would say, but right now he just wants to be pissed about this whole situation [that he started].

you copy his movements, actually quite sad that your usual chat time after eating is interrupted by this petty argument.

“hey, ‘m talkin’ to you.” your confusion does not seem to go away, no matter how you try to look at the situation. jude simply takes your plate from your hands and places it inside the dishwasher, before he dries his hands to continue the conversation [discussion].

“all ‘m sayin’ is that you love to be seen with your little racer buddies instead of with me.” he moves out of the kitchen back to the dining table to pick up the other dishes and the drinks.

“what the fuck?” is all you can say about his statement as you take the drinks from his hands to put them into the fridge, “what do you mean i ‘love to be seen’ with them? i work with those people and actually get along with them, just like you do with your teammates.”

the tension [not the hot one] between you rises by the second and jude is once again walking around the apartment, “that’s not the same.”

“the fuck you mean it’s not the same? it literally is?”

a few minutes ago jude would have [maybe, probably not] admitted that he might have gone too far with what he had said to you, but now seeing you getting so offensive about something that bothers him, he no longer feels like he should back off. instead he wants to win this, he wants you to understand that he is right and that you being seen with others could be, no it is, disrespectful to your relationship.

“you are my girlfriend, why would you want to be seen with other guys?!” raising his voice was something he rarely did whenever you guys argued. he preferred to keep calm in order to avoid hurting you in any way. but right now, his voice was getting louder with each argument he made, heating up the whole conversation even more.

you genuinely did not understand why he would come up with this argument all of a sudden, it is not the first time that you are seen at max’ side at races or maybe even next to others. you had a healthy relationship with most drivers and pleasant conversations with them in between races and breaks. everyone knew that you are the intern who will soon work for the redbull racing team, and jude actually was the one to be the proudest of you. it is literally how and where you guys met.

“the reason why i am seen with them is because, one; i work with them. we have to talk a lot because of the development of the car and i still have to learn a lot from the other engineers. two, i get along with them, you know, like normal co workers do, because, fuck, why not? you know all of this.” you feel your throat straining with how much and how loud you are talking, but the rage inside of you somehow numbs the pain.

“so people thinking that you are dating one of them also comes with the job, yeah?”

jude now stands tall in front if you, nostrils flared and eyes wide. he isn’t mad at you entirely, he knows it, but more like at the situation and the people that dare to pair you with someone that is not him.

but you cannot know that he isn’t mad at you, because in your eyes it seems like he is blaming you for the stuff the media puts into the news. your heart beats faster than ever and this whole situation makes your head spin.

“i don’t control what the media says? like, it’s not in my hands? to them i am a single woman who is successfully working for a motorsport team, rumors are bound to happen?”

“well, there is always some truth behind rumors, right?”

something inside you snapped, “what about you, huh?!”

jude almost flinched when you suddenly raised your voice at him, a sight he has never seen before.

“you also get paired up with a new woman every fucking day, jude. do you see me complain about it? no! because i trust you.” right now, you really wished to cry. was it that hard to understand?

the comfortable atmosphere from a few minutes ago vanished entirely, coldness and a bitter feeling on your tongue seem to have replaced it. during the two years you and jude havr spent together, you never had such an argument to this extent.

“but i am never pictured next to those people! i never even talked to them ever in my life!”

suddenly still, your eyes widened, mouth dry as you speak up, “are you accusing me of cheating on you?”

silent.

jude looks at you with his mouth open, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

“no, never…” the stark contrast between your voices now compared to just a second ago is almost cinematic, as if you had practiced this scene multiple times already. silently looking at one another, eyes dancing around the others faces in order to understand what just had happened.

“do you also think that way when i talk to aurelien and eduardo?” your voice breaks as you speak up, a defeated feeling replaces the rage inside, “do you actually think like this of me?”

judes shoulders sack down as he listens to you speak, this is absolutely not something he ever thought of, nor would he ever dare to accuse you of such thing.

he wants to speak up, yet you quickly cut him off, “just for your information, to the media and the rest to the world, we both are single individuals who don’t even know each other. and all the guys on the grid know that i am a taken person, they would never do such thing.”

you scoff as you shake your head, turning around to go to the front door.

jude panics as he watches your fast steps, immediately following you, “what- uh, where are you going?”

you quickly put on your shoes and put your bag on your shoulders, not in the mood to continue any of this, “wanna go home.”

“but this is home-“

your head snaps to his direction, eyes cold, “apparently not. at least not now.”

jude closes his hand around your wirst, not wanting you to go away when the situation between you is so heated.

“let’s find a solution, babe, c’mon.” he begs, voice husky and desperate. he did not know that it would escalate like this, but now he regrets to even bring up this topic.

you sigh, all of this arguing took a toll on you and now you want to do nothing more but lay in your bed and not to think of anything anymore.

inhaling deeply, you look at jude, his big brown eyes never left yours anyway, and he truly does look like he wants to fix this, which you do too.

“listen,” you begin, taking one last deep breath, “you cannot accuse me of such thing and then expect me to do nothing about it-“

“i don’t want you to do anything, just, let’s stop arguing.”

scoffing, you tighten the grip on your bag, “you started all if this because apparently, you do not trust me, jude.”

“it’s babe-“

“it’s jude right now, don’t test me.” you threaten him, not in the mood for his little jokes.

shaking your head, an almost mocking laugh leaves your lips, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret. you, by the way, wanted to do it this way the most. i would have launched our relationship ages ago, because i trust you and i trust our bond. y’know, communicating and stuff.”

judes voice cracks slightly as he speaks up, deep sigh leaving his body as he tries to hold your hand, a sign that he is getting desperate, “i trust you, too, babe. ‘t’s just- i don’t know, like, rumors and shit and i don’t want you to have reporters on your neck at all times, y’know.”

you frown at his words, “but that does not explain why you literally sprung at me for mentioning max, or the others. when we first started dating, i already knew what would come along with being with you, and i would take it all, jude, everything.”

jude smiles at your words, now looking down at your hands, so you continue, “all those annoying rumors about me, people following me and what not, i genuinely will take it all, because i love you. not max, not lando nor charles or whomever you’re jealous of.”

“i ain’t jealous.” he rolls his eyes, slowly stepping closer to you.

“don’t lie to me, belli.” you smirk at him.

jude chuckles, his thumb dancing across your knuckles help you to be at ease.

“soo.”

“sooo?” you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue.

“do we just post a picture together? or like, do a sex tap-“

“shut it.” you pinch his waist, chuckling as he squirms away from your touch, “we will do a, hm, maybe a soft launch? yeah, something like that.”

jude groans, throwing his head back, “that takes way too long.”

“well,” you shrug, “ that’s what you get for literally yelling at me for doing my job.”

“and i’m sorry, love.” judes hand now caresses your cheek softly, head tilted down as his bog brown eyes apologetically look at yours, “next time, i will calmly ask you about something that bothers me, okay?”

“okay.” you smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“you have a race this weekend, no?”

“yeah, in belgium this time, why?”

“just because.”

-

“still trouble in paradise?” you hear landos [annoying] kind voice from behind you, making you draw your eyebrows together.

turning around, you tilt your head in question, “wait, how do you know?”

lando innocently smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders, “max and i are somewhat besties, y’know.”

“max.” you grumble, already planning on how to get your revenge from him.

“so? everything okay now?” lando questions again, this time in a slightly more serious manner than before.

“it’s always okay between us, just rocky at times.” you tell him, not stopping yourself from smiling when you think of your boyfriend.

lando nods his head at something behind you, “seems like goal-machine over there still wants to rip off my head, though.”

“goal-machine-?” you turn around and are immediately met with the sight of jude leaning against some tires in the garage.

he looks good, you must admit. sunglasses on too of his nose, oversized shirt with the first few buttons undone, night dress pants and matching shoes, a real snack.

a snack that should not be here, or well, a snack you did not know that would be here. so, you bid your goodbyes to lando and walk closer to jude, coming to halt a fee steps in front of him.

“eh, hi?” you greet him, confused but happy.

he smiles down at you, taking off his glasses to get a better look at you, “hey there, sexy lady.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms in front of your chest, “not now, i am working, y’know.”

“chatting it up with little lad over there is quite some work, huh?” jude points at lando with his head, who still, you don’t know why, is standing inside the redbull garage, subtly [nit really] glancing at your direction every now and then.

“lando just likes to annoy me, nothing more.” you explain, smiling as you watch jude stand up straight.

“well, let’s annoy him back.” he smirks down at you.

“how-“

jude cuts you off by placing his soft lips on top of yours as his muscular arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. at first you feel like resisting, but the more he deepened the kiss, the more you could not get enough of it. tilting your head to gain better control, you feel up his chest before you place your hands at the back of his next, enjoying this public display of affection more than ever. maybe because it is the first time you’ve ever done something like this in a place like the garage-

you immediately push jude away, eyes wide open, “jude! there are cameras everywhere!”

he just smiles down at you, that little tease, before taking your hand into his, “you wanted to go public anyway.”

“i wanted a soft launch, though! i always wanted to soft launch a relationship.” you whine, moving closer to out your forehead against his chest in defeat.

“you can still soft launch it, love.”

you shake your head, still against his chest while you feel his hand move up and down your back, “no, let me grieve in peace, please.”

“love you too, babe.”

“shut it, you ruined my dreams.”

“you’re welcome.”

———————————————————————

enjoy 🥰

[littlemissmiller]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹꧂



[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Here's the NSFW follow-up to my SFW Prewar!Cooper and Ghoul headcanons. Shoutout to the anon who asked for them.

General NSFW Cooper Howard Headcanons

Prewar!Cooper Howard

- I've touched on this before, but this man is absolutely an exhibitionist, and he's an exhibitionist because he's a show off, point blank. Cooper Howard isn't one to flaunt his wealth, really, but he absolutley loves to show off a gorgeous woman on his arm. He's also fairly possessive, but he keeps that little secret to himself as best as he can (which is "okay", at best). Bending you over in his trailer between takes, knowing full well that the curtains aren't completely closed and that you can't stay quiet to save your life. Fucking you in that godforsaken hot tub despite knowing the neighbors have at least a partial view of the backyard. Taking you to nice hotels and fucking you up against the street-facing windows. Y'know. The works.

- Praise kink out the WAZOO, both giving and receiving, but especially the former. He'd revel in every opportunity to tell you just how good you make him feel, to praise you for how you react when he makes you feel good. He's especially fond of praise in non-sexual contexts as a way to get you going. Works every time.

- In the same vein as before, he may or may not be susceptible to to the old "bat your eyelashes and appeal to his fame" trick. "Oh, big important movie star Cooper Howard wants to take little ol' me to lunch? I can't believe it! How could I possibly repay you?" He's a good guy, but his ego is strong, and he responds quite well to having it stroked.

The Ghoul

- Wants eye contact when he's penetrating you, almost to a fault. If you're blowing him, you're looking at him. If he's fucking you, you'd BETTER be looking at him. Blink or look away at the wrong moment, and your face is getting snatched back (or slapped, depending on the day).

- He's never heard of primal play, but it would be 100% his shit. You so much as mention wanting him to chase you down and he gets a wicked glint in his eye and a tent in his pants.

- The only part of his body he really has any positive feeling left for is his hands, which he actually quite likes; they're still dexterous and nimble, and so he's quite taken with you when you become infatuated with them. Compliment them, hold them, put them against your body, he's thrilled. Suck on his fingers??? You're getting bent over THAT second.

- Bonus: he definitely still has the praise kink, he's just way more reserved with it because it requires too much vulnerability. If you start it, he'll follow, though: tell this man how good he's making you feel and he will absolutely melt. Keep at it and he might start praising you, too.

[anothermansjeans]

youtube reader doing spencer’s makeup for a video? mgg has super long lashes and i just need to put some mascara on them 😭😭 i’m loving youtube reader they’re dynamic with spencer is so fun

THANK YOU I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THIS IS NO JOKE

cw: spencer wearing makeup, spencer is basically reader's bitch (affectionate)

wc: 623

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“And you’re sure you wanna do this?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

You swore you fell in love with Spencer even more every day. “Because some men have toxic masculinity and wouldn't let their girlfriends put makeup on them?”

“Well, those men don't have IQs as high as mine.”

You laughed and dabbed a blob of foundation on your hand, preparing to use the beauty sponge to blend it onto Spencer’s face. “Well thank God for that. I had to buy a whole new shade for you. Wouldn't want my money to go to waste.”

As you began blending, Spence flinched the tiniest bit at the cold substance. You were sure the camera was picking it up. He was a lot quieter than usual, and you had to comment on it. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“You're not talking… you're a certified yapper, Spence.”

“Hey!” Alas, his first words in five minutes were spoken.

“I’m not wrong,” your words were mumbled, but he heard them. “Sorry, sorry. Would you tell me why you’re not speaking, though?”

“I don't want to mess up your hard work.”

Again, you fell in love just a little bit more. “You won't mess anything up, Spencer.” You placed the sponge down and grabbed onto one of his hands. “Please talk as much as you want. The people are going to be here for you and your wisdom, babe.”

Even under the thin layer of foundation, you could see the hint of a blush appear on his cheeks. “Okay… did you know the word ‘cosmetic’ has a Greek origin, and was derived from the word ‘kosmos’, which means to adorn or arrange. The magazine, Cosmopolitan also has this same root.”

You smiled at the fact and continued with the routine. You got through the contour, blush, highlight, and eyeshadow, finally moving onto the mascara. “Okay, Spence, I’m going to put this wand near your eyelashes and I just need you to blink for me.” He did as he was told, and you couldn't keep your jealousy contained. “I'm so mad at you for your eyelashes.”

“What did they do?”

“They're so long!” You huffed and he chuckled. “It’s not fair. You do absolutely nothing to them and they're so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you mumbled out your response, finishing up his other eye before putting the mascara down and digging through the lipstick options. “We should do a liquid lip.”

“Liquid lip?”

“Yep! It won't transfer once it dries.”

“Did you know that the first lipstick appeared in ancient Mesopotamia approximately 4,000 years ago when women decorated their lips with the dust that was made of precious gems?”

“Thank God they stopped using precious gems or I wouldn't be able to afford the tens of lipsticks I have,” you quickly looked up at him, giving him a smile before finding the perfect shade for him. “Here we go! Now, I need you to not talk when I do this.” He gave a nod and allowed you to put it on. “Give it a minute to dry.”

You fanned his lips, and once you deemed it appropriately dry, you smiled and grabbed his face with one of your hands, causing his lips to pucker. “All good! See?” You pushed your lips together, giving him a big smooch in front of the camera. When you released him, you turned your face to the camera, showing your lips before turning back to him. “It didn't transfer!” He could only nod, shocked from the sudden affection, and you laughed as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You really are a pretty boy.”

You shared a chuckle and finished up the video. You were so lucky to have your pretty boy.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: i want a pretty boy :(

@ user1: what if i stole your man's eyelashes... then what?

@ user2: can he do a collab with the calm app? ma'am i would pay good money for that but you get it FOR FREE

@ user3: TELLING HIM TO START TALKING?? I LOVE YOU GUYS

@ user4: brb sleeping on the freeway tonight

@ user5: THE KISS?? THE KISS!!!

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!