#can people please read this book so I have friends to talk about it with
Text
ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION
FEATURING: beast dazai osamu
SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}
AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it
GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings
SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST
READ: BADLANDS SIDE A
“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”
You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.
“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”
Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.
You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.
Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.
You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.
You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?
God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.
You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.
But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.
Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”
“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.
Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.
Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.
But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.
“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.
“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.
Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-
“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.
“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”
You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.
Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”
“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”
“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”
You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.
You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.
You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”
You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”
Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.
“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”
Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?
Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.
“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”
Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”
You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.
He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.
You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.
But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.
You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.
You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”
You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.
“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”
“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”
You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.
Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”
“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”
“What’s the issue then?”
“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”
“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”
Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”
“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”
Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”
A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”
Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”
Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.
The giddiness is long gone.
You still haven’t gotten dressed.
You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.
It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.
The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.
You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.
And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.
His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.
He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.
“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”
And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.
“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”
“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”
“I just don’t understand.”
Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?
If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.
God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.
Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.
A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.
“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”
Where do you fucking start?
You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.
“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”
You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.
“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.
He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.
Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.
“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”
Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.
“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”
He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.
“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”
You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.
You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.
“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”
His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.
“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”
“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.
“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”
You love him.
You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.
“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.
He smiles against your skin.
“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”
You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”
“Everyone is staring at us.”
You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.
“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.
His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.
At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.
Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.
Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.
Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.
Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.
Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.
More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.
But is this really any better?
He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.
He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”
The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.
“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”
“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.
Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.
“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.
“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”
Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”
You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.
Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.
Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”
“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”
Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.
The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.
There you are.
Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.
Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.
“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.
Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.
He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.
If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.
He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”
Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.
You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.
His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.
God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.
The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.
“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.
He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”
You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.
“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.
“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”
Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”
Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.
“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”
“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”
“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”
Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.
To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.
He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”
“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”
You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.
Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.
He feels sick.
What is he doing?
Why are you here?
What has he done?
“Dazai.”
You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.
“Dazai.”
What has he done?
Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-
His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-
“Osamu.”
His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.
“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”
Oh.
He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.
His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.
Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.
Hm.
Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.
Interesting.
He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.
Osamu,
“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.
You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”
“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”
“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.
Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.
“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.
“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.
He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.
God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.
“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”
His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.
“Dazai.”
Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”
“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”
Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.
“May I have this dance?”
Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.
Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.
He should just kill them all here and be done with it.
The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:
“Speak.”
Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.
You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.
Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.
You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.
Who are you, Dazai?
You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.
You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.
Could you sacrifice everything for him though?
Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.
A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.
I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.
“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.
It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.
“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.
“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”
Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”
He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.
“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”
He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”
You aren’t so sure.
Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.
Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.
He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.
“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”
Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.
Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.
You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.
“Is this seat taken?”
You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.
“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”
An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.
“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.
The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.
“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
Favourite Underrated Ship? Simple answer:
Every single Pete rarepair!
-> PorschePete? Iconic! Brilliant! Phenomenal! Most people love "best friends who kiss", I love "secret third thing". However one enjoys them, though, they're delicious to consume😌
(You might think it's not an underrated ship, but I'd like to inform you that it has, in fact, less than 100 fics on Ao3, so it very much is in my book. I'm happy to have contributed to it by posting two of them, but I'd love it if there were more. Hopefully, I'll get inspired anew one day.)
-> KinnPete? Oh please, the power dynamics make me giggle like a 10 year old girl playing with Barbie dolls. Such glorious toxicity, such perfect ways Kinn could use and abuse Pete to his benefit, either with or without knowing he's doing it. You can do so much with them, either pre, during or post canon and I get so excited thinking about it.
(This one has less than 50(!) fics posted, so I'm super thankful to the few authors who have gifted me some amazing works. Sharing my personal favourite because it deserves to be cherished 🥹)
-> ArmPete? Do I even need to sell this one? It can do fluff, it can do angst, it can do smut, it can do it all. My personal favourite flavour of it is Arm having unrequited feelings for Pete because it's just so deliciously angsty 😇 I love me some pain, I can't help it.
(This one doesn't have any fics to its name, besides one in Chinese. I'm devastated. I did personally have an idea for a multi-chaptered fic with 3k words already written, but if I manage to focus on it properly one day, it'll end up being a simple one-shot.)
-> KimPete? Oh, you mean the ship I got so obsessed over I wrote 25k words of them platonically bonding, while having Kim think to himself more than once how pretty Pete is? You mean the ship that shares so many similarities with VegasPete, while still having its own identity based on the differences between Kim and Vegas? You mean the love of my life?
(Again, fics for this one are almost non-existent, which is a shame, but understandable. One day, I'll manage to enrich the tag. One day.)
-> TankhunPete? Take KinnPete's fucked up power imbalance and twist it in a more peculiar direction. What you get is this ship, which makes me so uncomfortable but so, so intrigued.
(Incredibly underrated with how few fics it has, but a special thanks to this one for altering my brain chemistry when I first read it.)
-> BigPete? Rivals who might engage in hate sex from time to time? Pals who share the same fate and understand it and bond over it? Pick your poison and roll with it, because it's delicious either way. I'm personally team "They hate each other" because it's more fun that way 😉
(Almost nothing here again, which is a shame, but again understandable. I had forgotten they shared 2 lines of dialogue together in the show, I deadass thought they never talked to each other, which was great for me lol. Here's one fic written by the same person who wrote the KinnPete one, in case you'd like something cool to read.)
-> TayPete? This one's for pure aesthetic reasons because have you seen Tay, have you seen Tay at the auction, have you imagined Pete and Tay fucking at the auction, because I surely have 🙂 It's such a gorgeous image, I lose focus for a hot minute when it comes to me.
(This one's tricky, because most people write Vegas/Pete/Tay, which is a glorious choice and I support it, and my talented friend is writing a very good VPT fic, but I'd love it if there were more fics that focus on these two only. They're too powerful, I can't get enough.)
I think those are all the ones I'm personally obsessed with. All I have to say is, Pete deserves all the beautiful men and what they'd like to do with him ❤️
#kpanniversary2024#underrated ships#I have *opinions* about this#this is just a summary#give Pete all the gorgeous men pls#he deserves it#*I* deserve it#do let me know if I've forgotten any ship#it's important to remember them all#for science#pete saengtham#kinnporsche the series
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jupiter Gemini: Abundance of Information
Jupiter will enter Gemini on May 25th until June 9, 2025
After being in the earthly sign of Taurus, it moves into air sign.
So what does this mean for the collective?
- we are going to be talking!!!! 🗣️There’s going to be an abundance of idea and everyone is going to want their voices heard. On one hand this is good because new ideas that can further the collective, however, there’s going to be a lot of not so good ideas being brought up. Be prepared to see lots of ignorant statements, people being more vulgar in public.
-we are going to be talking a lot about wanting to find close knit communities, Gemini rules over our local communities. More people talking about moving abroad and getting their passports will be huge themes. We may start seeing lots of people talk about there experiences in their new neighborhoods
-friendships and people trying to find new besties to hang with. There’s going to be an overwhelming need of wanting to find loyal friends. On the other hand, you may lots of public friend feuds. Jupiter rules over law and court, friends suing each other. Gemini rules over rumors and gossip, so people spreading rumors about their friends.
-lots of stories about co-workers and the people you work with. People marrying their co-worker since Jupiter is one of the marriage planets.
-siblings. Working with/for siblings, siblings going to/back to college. Your siblings going through some legal issues. Siblings traveling together, re-connecting and bonding. Siblings feuds such as suing each other. Traveling with our siblings
- Jupiter is one of the father archetypes and it rules over husbands, brothers and grandfathers. Gemini rules over our cousins and uncles and aunts. Pay attention because these people in your life is going to have a lot to say. They may be more vocal about their beliefs and ideals, some may even surprise you in a good or bad way.
-our minds are going to be heavily stimulated from the amount of information that’s going to be thrown at us. I’m not even just talking about the media but just in everyday life lol. With Pluto Aquarius, it’s going to be a lot of stuff being revealed to the public. Some of these things might not be good. so please don’t burn yourself out because it can be too much. Gemini placements, especially you because Jupiter is in your sign.
-Jupiter rules over worldly events, I predict we will hear about more things going on overseas. I’m not just talking about ongoing events such as Palestine-Israel or Ukraine but I imagine we’re going to be hearing or be more self aware about other things going on in the world. Again, it could get overwhelming so don’t burn yourself out yall. This also includes word leaders.
-religion/religious figures. Jupiter rules over religion and churches. I can’t help but wonder if some sort of public scandal comes out about some religious figures. People discussing religion and the impact it’s had on the public. People wanting to find the truth. What’s truth vs what’s fiction will definitely be hot topics. There’s going to some controversial topics so heads up. People in your life may talk about religion such as religious trauma or their personal religious beliefs. People are about to be very outspoken in a way I don’t think we’ve seen before, I’m already seeing it after reading Billie Eilish interview 😅
-writers/authors. As a writer myself, I think this is going to be a good time for aspiring authors to start or publish their projects. The writing community is in an odd space since the rise of Ai and scammers making AI books, there’s a lot of uncertainty in the air. With that being said, the good news is that the general public is still very much interested in books written by real people so if you want to write and publish, do it!
-completely random but legs and running may be topics. People talking about best places to jog or run. Leg exercises may be another topic. Running marathons, people running there first one or winning their first, I predict an inspiring story to come out this summer. You know, I forgot the Olympics is this year so track and field runners will be heavily in the media.
-this is definitely a think before you speck transit and I know so many people are about fail that lesson😭. We’re all going to have to apply the rule thumper mama told him from Bambi “If you don’t have nothing nice to say, don’t say it all” 😅
-Teachers/Education. Possible teacher strikes or more teachers speaking out about their current frustration about the system. I predict the educational system to be completely reviewed and lots of changes are going to be made. I believe people are going to pursue different routes of education for their kids, especially those with disabled children. Teacher strikes wouldn’t surprise me. More College adults seeking education overseas than here. Speaking of college adults, there’s been a lot of protesting on campuses happening and I don’t see that stopping, if anything, it’s going to enhance even further. Perhaps even globally.
-transportations. Now I’m not entirely sure how this going to play out but people who work transportation make speak out about unfair work conditions or their could also be strikes. On the flip side, more people will buying or looking to buy cars. Cars from overseas may be hot topics. Trains stations, bus stops, bike trails may be topics.
These are the main themes of this topics. To see how it affects you personally, look at the house Gemini rules.
#astrology#astrology community#knowledge#astro observations#advanced astrology#birth chart#kakiastro#tropical astrology#jupiter in astrology#Jupiter Gemini
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
What sorts of things or aspects do you like to get to know about a character and their story? Like, if you were to make some sort of form or layout, what criteria or questions would you ask?
#character creation#book writing#author#writing#i swear i’m writing#trying to turn a roleplay world into a proper book series but the main story won't be able to show all the work that my friends and I have#put into these characters and their stories#so it's almost necessary that I need a side series with multiple volumes and each volume talking about a set of characters and their stories#I love the silly little world in my head#please help me#I really want to market to the audience and make sure people like what they read 😭#why am I like this#also this story is about gods and pirates#I've spent the last year+ doing research on actual 17th century piracy in the Caribbean and it has a lot of influence from that#not your usual pirate story I can assure you#I'm so excited for this#the series is called Vivere#it's about the first plane of existence the gods actually created to maintain life#so you wonder why pirates?#because pirates#trust me this is going to be so good#the roleplay may have practically died but we still talk about it all the time#vivere planning
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Silent Night
Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.
Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything
w/c: 6.6k
a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!
my masterlist
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild.
“I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine.
“You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement.
You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise.
Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him.
He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.
"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.
You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."
It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.
The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.
Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.
"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"
"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.
"Jus' three."
"Oh, so you are just a lightweight then?"
"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout.
You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls. scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."
Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.
You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.
"M'not drunk"
You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"
"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."
"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.
Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper.
When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.
He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat.
He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs.
He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache.
You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality.
"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”
He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air.
"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"
His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh.
“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile.
Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.”
You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.
But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point.
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
“I don’t- oh…”
The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins.
“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?”
There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it.
His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil.
Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.
"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."
Fuck.
His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.
"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"
"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.
He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface.
You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet.
“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea.
“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention.
“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya”
You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass.
Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”
Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex.
He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.
He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.
You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.
He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.
"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-
He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.
He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.
"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey.
He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.
When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.
"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.
You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.
He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.
He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.
He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.
"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."
He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.
He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.
"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."
You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.
"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.
"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."
Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.
He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.
You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake.
His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.
"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."
The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.
He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.
"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.
You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.
"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.
Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.
"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.
You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.
He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.
"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"
You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.
He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.
"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."
He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."
You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.
"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"
He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.
Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.
He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.
"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."
You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.
"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.
You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.
"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."
You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.
"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"
You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.
"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"
Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.
"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."
His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls.
"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.”
You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense.
“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.”
That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.
"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.
"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."
"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.
"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"
He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch.
"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."
He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.
"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.
You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins.
“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?”
You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree.
You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze.
“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!”
You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so.
“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back.
“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows.
“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”
Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Touch Pt 2
Alastor x GN!Reader
Part One
Plot: Alastor talks to Charlie about his problem, sort of. Then he settles the situation with Reader.
Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, minor pining, short fic.
Word Count: 1,591
Touch Pt. 2
It was Charlie that came to get him. He had neglected to make dinner or even tell the others that he wasn’t going to make it that night. Charlie had knocked on his door, her rhythmic knock ever-so recognizable, and leaned her head just inside.
“Hey, Al? You alright, in there?” He could see her eyes flit about, before landing on him. “We were worried about you.”
Alastor just hummed, disinterest coloring his face. He was sitting at a small table just across the border of the original room and his swamp, sipping a cup of coffee, and reading.
Charlie, seemingly ignoring his clear show of indifference, stepped further into his room, shutting the door behind her.
“Don’t worry about dinner. Angel begged for us to just order pizza instead. Something about ‘junk food healing the soul’, or whatever,” Charlie continued, making her way towards Alastor. Although her hands fiddled with each other, she kept her voice steady. Charlie was getting better at hiding her nerves around Alastor. (He could almost say he was proud, but that would be inane!) “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Charlie said your name, and Alastor’s ear perked, on their own accord. “They mentioned you seeming off earlier, but didn’t want to bother you.”
“I can assure you that I am fine, dear. I don’t know what silly thoughts they’ve put in your head, but everything is fine,” Alastor said, trying to keep his smile wide. When he finally looked at Charlie, he realized she hadn’t believed a word he’d said. How ridiculous! There was nothing wrong! She should just take his word for it, and leave.
“I don’t know. You do seem bothered by something.” Charlie made her, ridiculous, thinking face, before nodding to herself. She promptly sat herself in the seat opposite Alastor, and folded her hands on the table. “You should talk about it. It’s not good to let these things bottle up.”
Alastor nearly dropped his smile so he could glare at her. How absolutely ludicrous! He had nothing to talk about! And even if he did, he had nothing he would willingly tell Charlie. “There is nothing to talk about. Please leave.”
Charlie cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes. She said your name, again, watching his ears twitch. “This is about them, isn’t it! You’ve been acting weird around them recently. Always staring at them.”
Alastor gritted his teeth, trying to hold his composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“HA! It is! You would never respond like that if it wasn’t.” Charlie smiled smugly, and Alastor wanted to claw her face off. He couldn’t, but it was an entertaining thought. He could turn her skin into ribbons, and use them to gift-wrap things for Rosie. “Come on, what’s going on? You didn’t have a problem with them before.”
Alastor hesitated. He could try and pry information out of Charlie, if he let himself be a tiny bit honest. He sighed, and set down his book and mug. “Alright, I’ll tell you a little, but! I have a question first.”
Charlie gave him a suspicious look, but she acquiesced with a nod.
“Why are they suddenly all… touchy with everyone? You mentioned some time ago that they don’t like being touched, but that seems to have changed, rather out of nowhere,” Alastor said, trying to keep his motivation for the answer hidden. He watched as Charlie’s face flooded with multiple emotions, before settling on something soft. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it made his skin crawl. The deer-demon hoped that expression had nothing to do with him.
“Ah. Yeah. I meant to explain that when they talked to me about it recently, but I completely forgot,” Charlie sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “They’re touch averse, but when they get comfortable with people, especially good friends, it’s something they start to… hmm what is the word I want to use… They kind of start to crave it. Touch is something they don’t get a lot of, so when they are comfortable with someone, they’ll initiate a lot of it. So now that they’re settled into the hotel, and know all of us well enough, they’re more comfortable.”
He had never considered something like that before. You would get lonely, wouldn’t you? You were a very outgoing soul, but sequestering yourself from others would get hard after a time, wouldn’t it? The more Alastor thought about it, the more it made sense. You had been there quite a while once you started to get tactile with the others. But still, it didn’t make sense that he would be excluded! You were always so nice to him! You sometimes sought him out for conversation. Was he too overbearing sometimes? Alastor’s mind slightly spiraled, the longer he thought about it.
“You alright there, Al?” Charlie’s voice interrupted his mental descent with a rough jerk. “Does your problem have something to do with that?”
Alastor looked away from the princess, trying to contain his thoughts down enough so he could tell her without giving it all away. But the idea of you fearing him or something of that nature made his stomach churn. He couldn’t think straight.
“Then why not me?”
Alastor didn’t realize he had spoken until Charlie’s eyebrows popped up. “Oh. Oh geez.” Her face scrunched in guilt. “That might be my fault.”
A screech interrupted the soft static that played around Alastor. “What?”
Charlie’s eyes flitted about, uncomfortable with the weight of Alastor’s glare. “Yeah. I mentioned, pretty early on to them, that you also don’t like being touched. That sometimes you might touch others, but you didn’t like it.”
Alastor cupped his forehead in one hand, and glared down at the table. “Are you kidding me?”
“Ah, no. I’m pretty sure that’s it. They’re pretty good about keeping boundaries, so they might have been trying to make sure you were comfortable,” Charlie muttered. She cupped her face in her hands, melting into them with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Al. I can totally go talk to them for you. If I had known this was a problem, I would never…”
Alastor tuned out Charlie’s ramblings. This whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Somewhat. It was true, he didn’t like being touched, most of the time. However, he did not like being left out of things without being consulted! It should have been up to him to draw that line. Alastor huffs to himself, and decides he will simply talk to you, himself.
He abruptly stands from his chair. “Alright then! I’m off to go talk to the little darling! I will straighten this out myself, Charlie.” Without another word, or even bothering to make sure she left his room, he took off towards your room.
He knocks twice, and waits patiently. Alastor hears a few thumps, and is glad that you’re inside. Much better to have this conversation in a private place, rather than out in the open!
The door creaks open, and there you are! You smile up at him. “Hi, Alastor. What can I do for you,” you ask.
Ha! What could you do for him? (What couldn’t you do? No. He wasn’t going to continue thinking.)
“Hello, my dear! I was hoping you had a moment, so we could talk! Hopefully, inside?” He gestures towards the inside of your room, and, although you hesitate, you nod. You open the door wider, and let him in.
“What’s up?” You ask. (He would never get over how strange slang and expressions got in recent years. At least he could understand most of them now. It used to be hard to understand younger souls).
“Ah. I was hoping to clear up a misconception that you might have.” Alastor leans down, leaving a few inches of space between your faces. Your eyes widen, just slightly, in surprise, but he is pleased to see you hold your ground. “I do not always mind being touched. I have, in fact, noticed you actively avoiding touching me.” Alastor leans back, suddenly, placing a hand over his heart. “And oh, does it hurt, dearest!”
He says it as if it’s a joke, (it isn’t), and it is, but he dislikes being singled out in matters as trivial as these! Your brows furrow, but you still give him a smile.
“Ah, dang, Al. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you. I just thought you didn’t like that kind of stuff.” You smile wider, your tone turning silly. “I’ll make sure to include you in all our group hugs now!”
Alastor’s brows flatten, and his ears pin back, just slightly. “Please don’t.”
Your eyes close as you smile and laugh. You take a hand and cover it up. (Alastor wants to pull it down. One should never hide their smile. He doesn’t, though). He feels a weight, that he hadn’t noticed, lift from him at the sight.
When you put a hand on his arm and squeeze, softly, it feels right. He says little more, just a ‘good night’. When he finally deigns to make himself dinner, he lets the joy finally saturate his body. What a delightful feeling!
He enjoys the next several days, where he realizes how many little touches you give him. If he preens beneath them, or his smile grows wider, or his tail wags, no one notices. Much better that way. No one needed to know.
Much less you, with your soft smiles, and happy laughter.
Not knowing would always be the better option.
Taglist:
I have no idea how to do one of these! I apologize if it doesn't work! Also, some of the names aren't working, when I try to tag, so I am sorry if you are listed, but it didn't work??
@wpdarlingpan @cxrsedwxrlds @littledolly2345 @angelofthorr @nkirukaj @hazelfoureyes @teh-vampire-bunny @fairyv-ice @ittoehurt @poppingaround @mysterypotatoink @viridiya @xalygatorx @viviannagiorgini
ALSO
Thank you?? I wasn't expecting the response that I got from everyone! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. I squee'd out loud when I saw how many people had read my silly little fic. Also, if you have left an ask, I am working on it, I promise! I just have a very crazy schedule.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor#light angst#fluff#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fanfiction#bun's short fics
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
(un)secret admirer
luke castellan x child of aphrodite!reader
tip me on kofi, if you feel so inclined
requested: nope, I'm just currently obsessing over pjo (aren't we all?) and Charlie bushnell is my pookie so luke is also my pookie (what about all the people he murdered– what murdaaaa?!)
warnings: none I believe!
content: probably ooc luke becusse I haven't read the books, I don't know if demigods even nap, I don't remember the movies and he's barely in the show lol, some cuddling, lowercase intended because fuck grammar, also I know demi gods are dyslexic i just dont gaf because i thought this concept was cute, that's all!
a/n: SEND ME PJO REQS! please. also this is short and I'm sorry, I've been having horrid writers block.
"I don't get what the big deal is." Lukes voice could be heard from where he sat on your bed, as you gazed at the piece of paper in your hand, pacing back and forth in your room as you analysed its every minute detail to the best of your abilities. "you get letters from the other campers all the time."
"I already told you Luke. this handwriting isn't the same as any other letter I've gotten, so that means it's from someone who's never sent me a note before, and I need to know who it is."
you had recieved a myriad of letters ranging from 'I think you're pretty' to 'I would sacrifice my right arm just to get a hug from you' during your time here at camp. beyond being drop dead gorgeous, you were kind, always wearing a charming smile on your face, and having the ability to comfort people with your presence alone.
that (coupled with the facts that most kids here had some kind of parental baggage and your kindness definitely filled some kind of void) meant that you recieved many a words from not so secret admirers. you were sure that you knew the identities of the people who had given you sealed envelopes and tightly folded papers, but you were currently stumped.
you were startled out of your staring contest with the scribbled ink by the feeling of Lukes arms around your shoulders as he spoke. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, now can you please come back to bed? you know that I can't nap if you're not with me."
you sighed, letting him lead you back to your bed so that he could rest before you two inevitable of the two of you needing to help around the camp occured. you stared up at the ceiling as he slowly started to dose off beside you, before you gasped and shot up, effectively spooking him out of a peaceful moment.
"it's Percy!" you shushed Luke before he had the chance to complain about your sudden exclamation or the fact that you weren't letting him get a wink of midday sleep. "I mean, he's just met me, and one of my friends probably told him some stuff about me–"
"it's not Percy." Luke deadpanned, pushing you down by the shoulder from the upright postpone you were sat in to make you lay back down, and wrapping his arm around your waist. you were shocked into silence, because although Luke was an affectionate friend, he had never cuddled you while he was still awake. he would always wake up and discovering that he had wrapped around you in his sleeping state, apologising sheepishly while retracting his limbs.
after a few moments of stunned silence, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his statement. "and how do you know it's not him, huh?" he simply blew air from his nose, tightening his grip around your waist.
"because it was me, sweetheart."
now that shut you up fairly quickly, as you bit your lip to try to hinder the giddy smile that wanted to form on your features. you opened your mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by Luke placing a small kiss on the back of your neck.
"we'll talk when we wake up, alright?" but you weren't having any of that. "okay... but, before you go to bed. how long have you liked me? is this actually the first letter you've sent? why wouldn't you just tell me, you idiot. obviously I like you too. I know you said some stuff that you like about me in the letter, but I want you to tell me about everything you like about me, like every feature, every trait-"
Luke chuckled, sporting a big grin as you spoke. he would tell you all of that and more, he would do anything you asked of him, just as long as he got to hold you in his arms just like this.
#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy series#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#pjo x you#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan angst#luke castellan apologist#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan fic#luke castellan fanfiction#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan blurb#luke castellan x fem!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Golden Walkway
Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.)
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)
Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼♀️
Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s.
Words: 4,300
A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.
Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.
***
“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.
“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”
“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”
“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”
“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”
“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”
The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.
“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up.
“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back.
“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.
It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt.
You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up.
“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.
“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.
“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.
“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.”
You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain.
——
It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman.
“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you.
“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg.
“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours.
“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”
“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is.
Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you.
“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.
“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.
“Another finger,” you shudder out.
“Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder.
Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.
“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.
He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.
Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”
——
Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement.
He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out.
“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off.
You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy.
“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked.
What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf.
You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet.
“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”
You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.
The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin.
“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.”
You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen.
You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear.
“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”
“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.”
You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver.
“Okay baby?”
“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.
“Whaddo you need sweetheart?”
“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”
“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.
“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.
“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.
“Please,” you implore, sobbing out.
“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”
This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.
You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey.
He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner.
“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you.
“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.
Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire.
Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.”
You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.
“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?”
“Pleeeease,” you keen out.
“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.”
You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you.
“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.
Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”
And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm.
“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out.
He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”
You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him.
“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.
“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?”
Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.
“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”
“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken.
“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”
That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know.
“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you.
“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout.
“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.
You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth.
“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel.
“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love.
You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off.
A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep.
——
“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.
You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you.
“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn.
“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”
A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfic#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller/reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#elks#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#pedro pascal
828 notes
·
View notes
Text
Neptune in the houses
Disclaimer. The natal chart is a system of aspects. Some qualities of a planet may not manifest due to other planets and their aspects. Please carefully study the rest of your placements.
Neptune in the 1st house:
1.He is a very empathetic and kind person. They are very polite and will endure to the last so as not to pour out their emotions on others
2.Many of them have synesthesia. They are able to taste color or know the color of music. They have a very good imagination
3.Often such people may have bags under their eyes since childhood or tired eyes. They have an unearthly appearance, for example, large or blue eyes. My personal observation, but these people are sooooo deep asleep, it's hard to wake them up, or their dreams are very colorful
4.With tense aspects, as well as a weak Moon, Neptune in the 1st house may indicate addiction to alcohol, smoking and drugs
5.Also, with tense aspects, Neptune in the 1st house may indicate infantile. Such a person can be naive, or dependent on someone else's opinion
Neptune in the 2nd house:
1.I often meet this placement in the natal charts of people who earn money from their hobby or are engaged in freelancing. Or they could change jobs often, because they have been looking for their vocation for a long time.In any case, their wealth is unstable
2.One of the indicators of monetary luck (but look at Jupiter in the natal chart). I have already said that their finances are fickle, but these people can also win the lottery, or find money on the street. They can also unexpectedly be offered a job with a good salary. But this is all with the good aspects of Neptune!!!!
3.With the negative aspects of Neptune in the natal chart, it is difficult for them to save money. Such people may be greedy for beautiful packaging, spontaneous purchases and may be excessively gambling. They may also often forget their wallet, credit card, or get into problems with the bank (an outstanding loan, for example)
4.No kidding, this is a good placement for designers and marketers. They literally know how to reunite beauty and sales.
5.The very type of people who really disconnects from the outside world when performing some task. They don't like multitasking or fast work.
Neptune in the 3rd house:
1.I would not say that this is an indicator of a creative nature. I often see this even in the natal charts of engineers, IT specialists and architects. It seems to me that such people are more used to working with visual information, because the 3rd house displays a person's thinking and mind in the natal chart. For example, it is easier for them to write or depict something than to convey it in words. It may also be easier for them to remember images, faces, or associations than numbers or audio information.
2.One of the indicators of an introvert (but you need to look at the rest of the placements of the natal chart). Such people periodically need to be alone with themselves to recharge their social battery.
3.Not always, but this is one of the signs of topographic cretinism. It may be difficult for such a person to navigate using maps and a navigator
4.Very pleasant and friendly in communication. They try to create an atmosphere of comfort and trust even with a stranger. Very polite in communication with the service staff (but can be very shy of them)
5.With the negative aspects of Neptune, this can be an indicator of a problem with attention and memory. It is difficult for such a person to study at school, listen to lectures at the university and take exams. They can also read a book or watch a movie, remember the frames and actors from there, but not remember the plot at all
Neptune in the 4th house:
1.One of the indicators of an alcoholic parent (but you need to look at the rest of the provisions of the natal chart), Every friend of mine with Neptune in the 4th house talked about problems with his mother or father because of alcohol
2.Most likely, one of the relatives has a mental disorder
3.This is a man who lived in a family where he lacked something. Perhaps attention, love or support. Even if the child received this, he could think that their family was different from the rest. You know, when outwardly it seems that everything is fine, but in fact it is not. As if it's an illusion or a picture.
4.Such a person does not want to grow up. Not to be confused with infantile, it's just that such a person takes great care of his inner child and any reminders of childhood. They may have a lot of saved toys, photos, etc.
5.Such people love a quiet pastime.For example, yoga, reading, listening to music, drawing, decorating the house, etc.
Neptune in the 5th house:
1.There are 2 situations here (to find out, you need to look at other placements of the natal chart):a person could try alcohol, cigarettes, etc. at a very early age, or such a person can ABSOLUTELY avoid them.Such people can really lose their minds because of alcohol. It's as if a dark personality wakes up in them, which they are afraid of in ordinary life.
2.They lie well. Even though I have the Moon in Scorpio, sometimes even I don't understand if they are lying or telling the truth. Sometimes they can make a joke and I'll take it for the truth. They control their emotions well. One of the indicators of acting talent.
3.With negative aspects, it may indicate manipulativeness.
4.They are so interesting to tell stories with all the emotions and details, you want to listen and listen to them! Perhaps good pedagogical abilities.
5.I often notice that such people prefer fantasy films or romantic ones. They can express their love through music or gifts made with their own hands
Neptune in the 6th house:
1.Problems with time management. Such a person confuses deadlines, forgets about his tasks or does not have time to complete them. It is better for such a person to work with someone in tandem who will be able to monitor the progress of the work
2.I often find this placement in the natal charts of allergy sufferers. Also, such people may have sensitive skin or sensitivity to the sun (they immediately tan).Perhaps they often get sick, or are vulnerable to the weather
3.Such people are philanthropists. They will definitely share their food with you, help you or listen to you. "It's better to give than to receive"
4.Most often, such people work in the service sector, or in a profession where they feel they are helping people
5.Their energy and motivation are fickle. One day they can do tasks for the whole week, another day they won't be able to get out of bed.
Neptune in the 7th house:
1.Such people tend to idealize their partner, or fall in love with people below their level(but you need to look at Venus, the Moon and the Sun in the natal chart)
2.The 7th house in the natal chart also displays enemies. In the lives of such people, there were often those who took advantage of their kindness and care.Most often, such people are not vindictive
3.It is a very difficult situation when Neptune has many bad aspects in the natal chart. In this case, a person becomes distrustful and angry at people. It was as if he realized that kindness is not appreciated and it is better to be selfish
4.Such people make decisions based on what their heart tells them, not their mind (but you need to look at the other placement of the natal chart)
5.Such people strive for a complete fusion of souls in a relationship. They are looking for their soulmate. They will be interested in your hobby, your work, your relatives, etc., if you are in a relationship with them
Neptune in the 8th house:
1.One of the indicators of addiction. Such a person can get hooked on alcohol, cigarettes, pills or drugs due to stress. I also have Neptune in the 8th house, and to be honest, I've been drinking sedatives for 2 years because of the huge stress. Also, my friends with this placement sleep for almost a whole day due to stress. You know that the 8th house is the house of death in tropical astrology. With Neptune in the 8th house, a person tries to find a place where he can get lost. After all, sleep is a little death, and alcohol is a loss of reason and thoughts
2.One of the indicators of fear of water or inability to swim. Also, such people may be allergic to some cosmetics or chemicals.
3.Interest in mysticism and religion since childhood. Perhaps such a person had an imaginary friend or encountered paranormal things in childhood.
4.In sex, a person puts emotions above physical contact. Passion, love are very important to them, they need kisses and foreplay
5.Good intuition, but it is difficult for a person to translate it into clear information. As if the subconscious mind of a person understands, but the consciousness does not
Neptune in the 9th house:
1.Such a person can often dream of countries or places where he has never been. It's like he's traveling in a dream
2.With the negative aspects of Neptune, a person may not recognize his homeland. I often find this placement among people who moved to another country because of the poor quality of life in their homeland, or they had to due to external circumstances
3.For such people, changes in life can bring peace of mind. I noticed that such people, after experiencing stress, like to start life with a clean slate. AND SUDDENLY FOR EVERYONE
4.He is a philosopher by nature. Such people have a very interesting type of thinking. They are interesting interlocutors, after talking with them, it seems that something has changed dramatically in your thoughts
5.It is most difficult for them to recognize the injustice of the world. They are sooooo kind, but sometimes they can't just take bad events or bad people in their opinion
Neptune in the 10th house:
1.Such people tend to underestimate their capabilities. For example, to work at an unloved job, secretly dreaming of a completely different one. They will prefer stability instead of their favorite profession
2.One of the indicators of work abroad or in a foreign language. Such people are good at freelancing and psychology. They know how to follow a work ethic and be a friendly and pleasant employee
3.They have too quick a mind, so there are problems with time management or workflow organization. They also tend to work in a creative mess (but they can, because they are good)
4.Neptune in the 10th house can also indicate envious or toxic colleagues. Many of my acquaintances with this placement have faced slander about them at work
5.With negative aspects, this placement may indicate conflict and an inflated ego. A person does not recognize authorities, it is difficult for him to accept someone else's opinion
Neptune in the 11th house:
1.A VERY GOOD FRIEND!!!! A sense of comfort, tranquility and fun next to such a person is provided to you.
2.The social media page of such a person is either completely empty and closed, or filled with unusual photos or memes. Also, such people use fake accounts more often than others
3.He is good at coming up with ideas, plans and works well with information, but it is difficult for him to translate his ideas into reality
4.With bad aspects, this placement may indicate an inability to read people. They can be friends and trust hypocritical and deceitful people. They may not see the bad in people at all
5.They are sooooo cute! Such people need to choose friends more carefully than others because they tend to change their habits, manner of communication, hobbies because of friends. It was from people with Neptune in the 11th house that I heard that they gave up bad habits and found a job after they stopped communicating with bad people
Neptune in the 12th house:
1.One of the indicators of an introvert. Such a person feels very comfortable alone. He can live alone quite calmly and rarely leave the house
2.Such people are sooooo difficult to wake up. Sometimes it feels like they've come out of a coma, not woken up. Their brains need a lot of time to recover
3.Very strong intuition. Also, such people put the heart above the mind.
4.Such a person does not like to talk about his feelings. He keeps all his worries to himself and is used to solving problems alone. He is more used to walking on the street or thinking about his problems before going to bed than telling someone about it.
5.He is a very emotionally impressionable person. He will not laugh if someone falls, at the sight of blood in person he may shudder. He can literally feel someone else's pain in his body.
#astrology#horoscope#zodiac#astrology community#astrology signs#natal chart#tumblr fyp#astro community#astrology blog#astro observations#astrologer#astro notes#birth chart#fyp#foryou#viral#neptune#astrology notes#astrology observations
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
waterfront
neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader
Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual).
a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always.
wc: 4.5k
this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:
part i part ii
if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!
“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.
“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”
“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?”
“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room.
It’s honestly unbelievable.
Packing.
You’re packing.
For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.
Joel’s client.
Joel Miller.
Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you.
Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you.
He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town.
Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend.
You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours.
You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first.
You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop.
Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe.
You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come.
You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother.
That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you.
You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought.
A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either.
“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story.
She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look.
“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue.
“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.
“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it.
You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—
“Tell me ‘bout it.”
You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel.
You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—
“Are we almost there yet?”
Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks.
“You alright?”
It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising.
“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.
“Do you wanna talk?”
Another surprise.
“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do.
He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things.
He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame.
“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.
“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.
“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s’okay?”
“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.”
You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.
“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated.
“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck.
“He make you laugh?”
You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms.
“He doesn’t make me cry.”
He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated.
“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you.
You roll your eyes.
“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.
“I have no fucking idea what you want.”
“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”
“Didn’t stop you before.”
He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up.
“Insane,” he grunts.
“Sorry?”
“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.”
You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel.
“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret.
You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle.
“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself.
But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button.
He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin.
You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature.
He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs.
You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest.
He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head.
“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine.
You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours.
“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words.
“Everythin’.”
Your eyes urge him to continue.
“Thought I could stay away f’m you.”
He gets closer.
“Thought it was the right thing.”
You shake your head.
“But I don’t think I can stay away.”
“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked.
“'M here.”
You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone.
“Look at me.” In a blink, you do.
He’s closer, if possible.
And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.
This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth.
He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again.
It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good.
His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him.
His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.
You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.
“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies.
“Alright, alright, I’m going.”
You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge.
You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe.
You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation.
This is nice.
Joel is being way too…nice.
You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing.
“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door.
“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend.
Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t.
You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water.
You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day.
When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes.
“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair.
“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body.
“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him.
“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”
You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door.
Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach.
When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom.
You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream.
You huff. This is not what you need right now.
“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel.
You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door.
“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads.
You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.
“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take.
“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own.
“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom.
“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes.
Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower.
“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone.
You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle.
“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already.
“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated.
“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care.
“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”
“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.”
“‘S’okay.”
He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem.
The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t.
Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth.
Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.
“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.
He only hums at that sentiment.
“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him.
“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold.
“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton.
“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you.
You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”
You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment.
“Nicer.”
You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.
“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath.
He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone.
“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy.
“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.
“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair.
“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance.
He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat.
Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home.
“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling.
He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible.
“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.”
You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,”
He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you.
“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.
“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”
“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything.
He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck.
“Feel so good baby,” he groans.
“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—”
“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse.
You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge.
He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb.
“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him.
“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth.
“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.”
He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down.
“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder.
“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm.
“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck.
“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes.
He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever.
But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry.
When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered.
“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes.
You kiss him instead of responding.
You know Joel's right—this is dangerous.
But it feels way too good to stop.
_
part iv
taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:
@nostalxgic @iluvurfather
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel x reader#the last of us hbo#joel miller#joel miller self insert#the last of us#joel fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#joel the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal as joel miller#joel miller smut#smut#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel x you#tlou fanfiction#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#dom!joel#dom!joel miller
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, so maybe giving his calling card to a kid was a bad idea. He sees that now. Unfortunately, it's too late to take it back. On the bright side, the kid wasn't going to be able to figure out who he is yet based solely on a summoning circle. In the pitch black void of things, Danny can sense the card and the person who's holding it.
Maybe if he leaves Fawcett fast enough he can keep plausible deniability because there's no way that the tiny homeless kid he just met is Captain Marvel. Nope, no way. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He's leaving now.
"What happened to you?" Deadman had an insufferable grin on his face. Did he have the House drop him in Gotham? Danny wouldn't put it past him.
"Don't wanna talk about it."
"Where ya going?"
"To the basement."
"Why?"
Was the other ghost always this annoying? "Because leaving was a terrible idea. I'm going to go hide in the basement until the day I fully die."
"Aw," Deadman tried to pout, but he failed and started to cackle. "Don't be like that. Did you not enjoy your trip to Gotham?"
Danny was a lot of things. Violent usually didn't make it onto that list. However, he was willing to make an assumption. "So it was your fault."
Another cackle. "Don't be like that! You've never been to Gotham before. You can't tell me you at least didn't have fun."
They were at the basement stairs now. "For your information, I have been to Gotham. I didn't get to do much exploring this time because Batman and his gaggle of sidekicks surrounded me!"
"You've been to Gotham?"
"Not important."
"Oh?" The glee on the full ghost's face made Danny uneasy. "I sense a story behind that."
Oh, no. "No. I'm not telling you." He marched past and down the stairs, not bothering to unlock or open the door.
"Please!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said 'no'."
"Party pooper." he huffed. "You know I'm just going to keep asking, right?"
A sigh. "I'm not gonna cave. No."
"Ah, but you will!" That was the confidence of a ghost who knew he was right. Danny did not like how that bodes for him. "You, my friend, are a younger sibling. I am also a younger sibling."
Shit. "That....That means nothing. My answer will stay 'no'."
Deadman had the gall to chuckle darkly. "We'll see." Then, he disappeared.
Danny didn't sigh because he doesn't need to breathe. He was not going to tell what happened because what happens in Gotham stays in Gotham. It's a rule of thumb that people don't cross. Besides, Deadman doesn't know that Danny's actually the middle sibling. Dani, introduced to his parents soon after he'd told them he was a Halfa, was the embodiment of younger sibling because he had once been the embodiment of younger sibling.
***
"Please get Deadman to stop!" Danny begged Zatanna three weeks later. Maybe he'd overestimated himself a little bit.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book she'd been reading. Something on runes? "What's he doing this time?"
"He won't stop asking me to tell him about my first trip to Gotham."
"You've been to Gotham?"
Danny groaned into the throw pillow he was clutching. "Yes. Please make him stop!"
"Sorry, hun," she focused back on her book, "But I can't see him."
"Oh. I forgot about that."
"Why don't you just tell him?"
Danny shot up, appalled by the very idea. "It's a matter of principle!" he exclaimed, "I am both the older and younger sibling: The middle child. If I give in, I'll have failed! I can't do that. Do you want me to fail?!"
"Okay, okay, geez!" she surrendered, "Don't gotta be so overdramatic about it."
"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being just dramatic enough!"
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, kid."
"I'm not a kid!"
"You look like one."
"Yeah, but I'm not! I'm-"
"King of the Infinite Realms," Constantine interrupted, "We know."
"Then don't call me a kid."
"Yeah, yeah, kid,"
"I'm not-!"
"Look, we can have this argument all day and we'll still end in a tie. I've got a case in San Francisco near Titan's Tower. Raven's coming along. Do you want to come with?"
"Don't you normally work solo?" Danny asked. Zatanna still hadn't looked back up from her book and he was pretty sure she'd tuned them out.
"Is that a 'no'?"
"No! No, I'll come with." Maybe having Constantine with him will deter the JL from hounding him. What do they even want with him? If they're upset that he died at fourteen, he's gonna scream.
The Brit smirked. "You sound almost desperate to get out."
"Shut up and let's go."
"Alright, alright."
Part 3 Part 5
Tag List: @zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders
#writing#dp dc crossover#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcu#dc comics#dcxdp#dc#danny phantom#ghost king danny#john constantine#zatanna zatara#deadman#house of mystery#Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant
719 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Slytherin Boys as Disney Princes
Ft. Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, and Lorenzo Berkshire. Also features x f!Reader as their equivalent Disney princesses.
© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.
✿ Masterlist | 1.8k words
From the Wizarding World to magical fairytales, let’s crown our beloved Slytherin boys as the following Disney princes:
Theodore Nott as Prince Charming (Cinderella)
Note: Prince Charming doesn’t have much personality in the original 1950s film, but we learn more about him in later films, where I drew information from.
✭ Raised in privilege as a prince, Theodore Nott lived a very charmed life just as the name Prince Charming suggests.
✭ With only royals and commoners to distinguish class, he is less prejudiced and more accepting of others. His father taught him at an early age that they have a responsibility to their people just as their people serve them.
✭ Because of this, he is open and friendly to everyone, including animals. He was once hunting down a deer only for it to be a game in the end, him and the deer are actually friends. (Note: Yes this is canon Prince Charming and is very Theo as well.)
✭ If Disney were less wholesome, Theo as Prince Charming would have regular lovers, but it will only always be physical. He has not yet found a connection with anyone, but it doesn’t matter because he enjoys sex. He certainly never runs out of women to sleep with.
✭ Beneath all the charm, he secretly hopes to find a love match. The kind of relationship that transcends strategy and status. He longs for passion and romance, much like in the books he reads in the castle’s library, though he’ll never let anyone know.
✭ His father in the meantime is keen to see him married to an eligible maiden so he threw a ball. He rolled his eyes and yawned when no one was looking, initially bored because he still couldn’t find the connection he longed for. At this point, he doubted he’d ever find it.
✭ Then he met you. You in your light blue dress and glass slippers. Everything about you sparkled and it ignited something in his heart. He never knew romantic love before you, but he recognized it right away.
✭ He wouldn’t care that you were a commoner, he’d admire your courage and kindness once he got to know you. Besides, true love was far more valuable than any precious metals and gems.
✭ After you ran off, your glass slipper gave him hope. He was going to stop at nothing to find you, his true love.
Mattheo Riddle as Flynn Rider (Tangled)
⋆☀︎. Left to his own devices, Mattheo Riddle would go on countless adventures across different kingdoms and forests, thieving only as a means to an end so he could survive.
⋆☀︎. He enjoys the rush, being chased by the authorities and not being held down by rules or responsibilities. (Except they can never get his damn nose right on Wanted signs despite the distinct cut he has on the bridge of his nose iykyk.)
⋆☀︎. With his charming personality and irresistible smolder, he’s an expert in banding together with fellow criminals and often smooth talks his way into ladies’ beds. All temporary partnerships for his on-the-go lifestyle.
⋆☀︎. Until one day he comes across you, the girl with golden hair and big eyes — not to be underestimated with your ferocious pan wielding tendencies. He learns the last part a little too late, the hard way.
⋆☀︎. As he promised to take you to see the floating lights in exchange for the crown, he finds himself having fun swinging his fists and learning about your power to bring out the good in people.
⋆☀︎. You managed to charm tough guys in a bar, getting them to talk about their dreams—of being a florist, of performing on stage, and of falling in love. He realizes it may not be so bad to go on adventures with someone else.
⋆☀︎. He was already mesmerized before he learned about your magical hair. He saw the light within you long before that enchanted night when lanterns floated through the air like stars hung low just for you. And of course, they were always meant for you.
⋆☀︎. Before Mother Gothel could plunge the weapon in him, he already knew he was a goner. He knew he could never go back to who he was. He was now and forever going to be a moth to your flame, your soul as radiant as the sun even long after your golden hair turned brown.
Blaise Zabini as Kristoff (Frozen)
•❅*ִ Much like Kristoff, Blaise Zabini exudes a quiet confidence that does not need to declare itself.
•❅*ִ As an ice harvester who works with ice picks, hooks and ropes, he has an athletic build and a tough exterior, but do not be fooled for he has a soft heart within.
•❅*ִ Having grown among trolls and reindeers, he sometimes gets frustrated when interacting with people. He believes reindeers are better than people, but all that changes when he meets you.
•❅*ִ He is very practical and honest, but when he is blunt he often means well. He is quick to call you out on the fact that you’re about to marry a man you hardly know.
•❅*ִ He initially agrees to help you end winter to save his ice business and get a new sled. However, the more challenges you face together, he grows to admire your fearlessness and determination.
•❅*ִ While you initially find him to be annoying, you soon discover his charming and funny side.
•❅*ִ He will however suppress his feelings for you, thinking it’s better to let it go because you’re already engaged anyway. But when truths are revealed and no one is who they appear to be, you’ll melt his frozen heart with a kiss on the cheek.
Draco Malfoy as Li Shang (Mulan)
✿ To Draco Malfoy, loyalty and family legacy is important, just like Li Shang who aims to be just as great as his father, the head of the Imperial Chinese Army.
✿ He is disciplined and has mastered both physical and strategic ways of waging war. He has a lot of traditional beliefs, including making a man out of his troops using elaborate physical training.
✿ He starts questioning those beliefs when he sees your determination as Ping, using both weights to climb up the pole even though it took you countless failures throughout the night. What were these confusing feelings in his chest?
✿ Yet he couldn’t deny it, nor would he try. He was ready to lay his life down for you even before you saved him. It didn’t take him long to return the favor when he found out you were a woman and so he spared your life.
✿ Despite his firm upbringing, he was always loyal to his heart. Even though you betrayed the army, he knew your intentions had been good and that your hard work made you a skilled soldier.
✿ He listened and trusted your last ditch efforts to save the Emperor, even resorting to cross dressing as part of the plan. It all paid off as you saved the Emperor and all of China.
✿ In the end, you were absolved of your deceit and honored for your heroism, finally letting your reflection show who you are and what you’re made of. Your final crime was stealing his heart.
Tom Riddle as Aladdin (Aladdin)
✶ Tom Riddle grew up as an orphan and resorted to a life of crime to survive in Agrabah. Secretly, he enjoyed it too.
✶ Smitten by your beauty, he saved you from a merchant at the market and he was impressed with your agility when it came to dodging the authorities.
✶ When you reached Aladdin’s home, you revealed you were from the palace and left thinking you’d never see him again. He longed to visit the palace to get another glimpse of your beauty.
✶ Named as a diamond in the rough, Jafar recognized Tom’s talent and recruited him to steal the magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Encouraged by the promise of riches (therefore power) and a subconscious need to please Jafar, he takes on the task, saving a magic carpet in the process.
✶ Back at the palace, your father sought to marry you off to find a successor to his throne. You met suitors, including a flashy prince called Ali from Ababwa.
✶ On a magic carpet ride, you trick Ali into admitting he’s the thief you previously met at the market. He manipulates you into thinking he’s the prince and the thief persona was just an act for him to get to know the city better.
✶ When Jafar uncovers Tom’s identity, he steals the magic lamp and wreaks havoc using the genie’s wishes. Understanding Jafar’s ego, he tricks him into wishing to be the most powerful being in the universe, which imprisons Jafar in his own lamp as a genie.
✶ Instead of using his last wish to continue being the rightful prince who can marry you, he used it to free the genie, as he has now learned how power corrupts others. It wasn’t worth it.
✶ Crowned as the next sultana, you recognized how our actions and choices defined us. Despite Tom’s manipulations, he showed up and was willing to learn. He was not afraid to look into the dark and make the right decisions when it mattered, a husband fit for a ruler.
Lorenzo Berkshire as Jack Frost (Rise of The Guardians)
Before you come at me, I know Jack Frost is not a Disney prince, but I’m a Jelsa truther so here we are.
❅ Lorenzo Berkshire mirrors Jack Frost’s love for mischief and games. As the guardian of fun, he enjoys playing harmless tricks on children and hearing them laugh as a result.
❅ Beneath the playful exterior, he deeply cares for those around him, having saved his sister from a frozen lake. His ultimate sacrifice led to his untimely demise, which the Man in The Moon rewarded him by making him immortal and granting him powers.
❅ He never found much need for romance, opting to spend his days playing with children and visiting his fellow guardians instead. Until one day, he visits the Enchanted Forest and comes across you, its mighty protector.
❅ Despite the initial distrust, he wins you over with his easy smile and sincerity. You never realized it until then, how lonely it was to be an ice queen without her king.
❅ Jack was also amazed to find someone else who could play with the magic of snow. He felt seen and understood like never before. For once, the loneliness in his heart melted away.
❅ So you spent your days together, laughing over silly jokes and exchanging stories. The cold never bothered you, but being with him made you understand why people enjoyed the sweetness of hot cocoa and why they cuddled close to a fire.
❅ Both your friends and family were happy for you. One day, Jack asked you to invite everyone so you can have a contest on who built the best sculptures. Your audience and judges comprised of Jack’s fellow Guardians, Queen Anna and King Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.
❅ You showed off with iced gardens, towers, and even the shape of Sven, but none was more impressive as when you turned around to find Jack on one knee, a gleaming diamond in his hand. It was a picture perfect moment with ice sculptures in the background, celebrated with loved ones.
❅ And soon, the ice queen would never be without her king.
✿ Masterlist <- read more!
#scheduled post#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys headcanons#slytherin boys#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#lorenzo berkshire x you#lorenzo berkshire imagine#lorenzo berkshire x reader#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy fanfiction#blaise zabini x reader#blaise zabini imagine#blaise zabini headcanons#blaise zabini x you#blaise zabini#tom riddle#lorenzo berkshire#mattheo riddle#theodore nott#draco malfoy#amongemeraldcloudswrites
448 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey ! Was wondering if you’re taking hc/blurbs could you do jjk boys with a clingy GF? We always see them being clingy but they deserve someone to love them and be clingy too 💖🤞🏻 (Megumi, Yuji, Gojo, Inumaki, Yuta) If that’s okay???
a/n: YES as a clingy gf myself i am kissing this ask thru my laptop screen :3
___
GOJO SATORU
... have fun trying to out-cling the Cling King. spoiler alert you will NEVER outdo the do-er. but satoru is so glad to have a crazy clingy gf. it's important to him to know you love him just as much as he loves you, and that you don't mind showing him. whether it's spamming his phone with texts or memes that made you think of him, or koala-ing yourself around him to keep him from getting out of bed in the morning, satoru is so content to see you at your clingiest. that soft spot that he has for you grows a little more each time you tell him to quit jujutsu and stay here with me forever. and each time you do, he considers it just a little longer than the last.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI
... is shocked by your clinginess. hell, he was amazed you ever agreed to go out with him. but now you're so in love with him that you come across a little obsessed? him? for a while it makes him a bit bashful, even more so when other people are around. the few times you'd jumped into his arms or planted a kiss on his face around his friends made him red. not that he was mad- no of course not. that sort of treatment is just so new to him he never knew how to take it. he's not the greatest at returning the affection, he's a shy boy after all. but you don't mind. seeing him blush and stammer out how he missed you too (even though you'd only been apart for an hour) was all the confirmation you needed to know that he returned your love.
ITADORI YUUJI
... omg he loves your clinginess so much. please text him you miss him two minutes after he leaves the room. please call him because you're bored even though you have nothing to talk about. please wrap your body around his so tight that he could mistake your cuddles as an attempt to crawl right into his skin. he swoons every time you show off your clingy side. from the pout on your face when he leaves to the overexcited joy when he returns. yuuji never has to question how much love you have for him. and the clingier you get, the more he'll mirror the behavior, and now you're both the most lovesick fools in the world.
OKKOTSU YUUTA
... is so used to your clinginess that he doesn't think twice about it anymore. he's sitting on the couch and you walk in the room? he's moving his book off his lap so you can crawl into it and cuddle him while he continues reading, barely batting an eye as he murmurs a gentle "hi baby" while you wrap yourself around him. you find him while he's cooking? he's maneuvering his arms before you wrap yours around him to snuggle into his broad shoulders, just to be sure you don't bump into the hot contents on the stove. there's a domesticity of it all. he's so used to it that he will maneuver his position in his sleep to accommodate to the way you want to cuddle him. you roll over after spooning for too long and you need to switch sides? he's unconsciously sliding onto his back so you can lay on top of his chest. and he will never complain for a second. he wouldn't have it any other way, he just loves having you close to him.
INUMAKI TOGE
... there's not a limit to how clingy you could be to him. a lot of your relationship relies on physical touch, quality time, and acts of service. so whenever you're spamming his phone, or following him around to help him clean his room, or wrapping yourself around his arm as you wander the shopping district for date night, toge's over the moon. he hates when he doubts your feelings for him, but sometimes he gets a little insecure. so the more you throw yourself at him, the more elated he feels. one time you ran at him and hugged him so hard after he'd come back from a mission that you both fell down. he won't lie, it hurt a bit, but no one could've known, not with how much he laughed while you nuzzled into him and proclaimed how much you'd missed him in front of all your friends. you're his everything, and while he may struggle to tell you, you both have an unspoken clinginess to one another that was undeniable.
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru imagine#satoru x reader#gojo x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi imagine#megumi imagine#itadori yuuji#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuuji imagine#yuuji x reader#itadori x reader#okkotsu yuuta x reader#okkotsu yuuta#okkotsu yuuta imagine#yuuta x reader#inumaki toge#inumaki toge x reader#inumaki toge imagine#toge x reader#inumaki x reader#satoru brainrot#megumi brainrot#yuuji brainrot#yuuta brainrot#toge brainrot#jjk#jujutsu kaisen
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Can I request a Clarissa × Fem!reader, where reader is spending a lot of time talking to someone from Athena's cabin and she gets jealous. you can decide what cabin reader is in :)
Jealous jealous girl
Clarisse la rue x fem!reader (apollo's kid)
Summary: when the girl she likes is being friendly to someone, Clarisse might see red.
Warnings: no major fights actually, fluff (a bit) kissing (yes today no clickbait) medíocre writting and im sorry.
(I didn't review it, don't sue me, English isn't my native language, that's probably why it's mediocre, love ya
"Have you actually read that book? Oh my gods really? I felt like i was the only one who knew it"
Clarisse watched with red eyes as (Y/n) got excited and laughed togheter with some kid from Athena's cabin.
They werent exactly...togheter yet, but they WERE something, everyone was sure of that.
Clarisse mind couldnt comprehend then, how even though EVERYONE knew they had something, that particular girl would not back off of her.
(Y/n) laughed togheter with the girl at some book reference she had made, and the final straw for Clarisse was when the girl had the courage to touch her girl's knee.
Her sunshine?
The disrespect, was she not seeing Clarrise looking at them? Like 10 steps behind?
The.disrespect.
Oh that will end right now.
Walking over to the girls with a fake smile who people would perceive of normal happiness, however, if you did knew her, her eyes had a hint of red rage in them.
"Love? Would you come with me for a second yes?"
She took (Y/n) by the hands but before she could even get up the Athena kid made herself seen.
"Excuse me? Cant you see we're talking? So rude."
"Oh yes, excuse you really, i dont think a need a cue to talk to my girlfriend, now shut up before I make you eat that book for dinner."
Not waiting for any more words Clarisse took reader by the hand again.
"Clarisse that was not nice, she was my friend- dont even start to speak right now, we'll talk in my cabin, it must be empity right now, we dont need the camp seeing something they dont need"
Letting (Y/n) guide her, still holding her hand, Clarisse had a confused look on her face.
"But we are not going to fight, not today"
"Says who?"
They got inside the cabin and bingo, empity empity, all the Apollo kids must be doing its activities, or getting ready for dinner, as always.
"Me, Love. We wont fight, we'll talk."
Clarisse sat down at the bed she knew it was (y/n)'s waiting for her to do the same.
Choosing to stand, she had a blank look on her face.
"You said we would talk, talk to me, why be mean to my friend clari?"
"Because im jealous. Im not made of steel, love, i cant see a girl from a rival cabin flirting with my sunshine and go around skipping like a kid, you know me"
"We were not flirting clari, she is my friend!"
"YOU were not flirting, she wants to be more than that"
Clarisse corrected
"And you have a right to do something about it since when? Everytime you talk about me to your friends im a friend too, but suddently when its convenient i turn into your girlfriend? Oh please"
Clarisse looked at her, and extended her hands to grab (y/n) hands, when they finally touched Clarisse got (y/n) to get closer and closer to her, now she was standing in between Clarisse's legs and had to look down to see her.
"I never said i was right love, im sorry for hurting you, i swear.....i was insecure about that, im so sorry really..."
"Clari you dont needed to-"
"Date me"
Clarisse interrupted her mid speech.
"What?"
"Date me, let me introduce you to everyone as my girlfriend, i wont make you hurt anymore, date me....-"
Please
That was the word missing, would it make clarisse apear as desperate if she used it?
Fuck it, she was inside the Apollo cabin, that gave her enough poetic justice to be as luvestruck as she could
She found herself resting her hands on (y/n) hips, looking up to her with heart eyes.
"Please... date me"
.
.
.
"Say something, please"
Whoever first said that acts spoke words was very much right, because the kiss Clarisse received was nothing short of a love letter.
Clarisse felt hands on her cheek and neck, caressing her.
The kiss was slow and carefull at first, like the first time they kissed, so very sweet, until it wasn't.
When the kiss deepened, Clarisse's hands sunk more onto (y/n) hips, and then started to pull her down, to sit on her lap.
It was the very first time both felt like this, the absolute need to just become a fusion, hug so tightly a loved one that they would just morph into one.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you"
Clarisse said, breathing in her girlfriend's neck when they separated to breath.
When (y/n) was going to speak, she felt a small bite on her lower neck.
"Clarisse- ah"
"Sorry.."
Clarissed giggled before she went back kissing her mouth, when did she became one of the girls that giggled?
They heard the cabin door opening and then a
"Oh fuck sorry i just...ill come back later, and you (y/n) will tell me everything about later or ill change my name, bye lovebirds"
They looked at each other resisting the urge to laugh.
"Well i guess we wont need to introduce ourselfs to anybody, by tomorrow morning they'll know"
#fanfic#lesbian#clarisse pjo#pjo tv show#pjo series#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue
855 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another round of Incorrect Quotes Generator x Slytherin Boys:
Part 1 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 ☆ Part 6
Mattheo: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.
Draco: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!
☆☆☆
Draco: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?
☆☆☆
Mattheo: I’m not stupid, you know.
[Y/n]: Well, you’re doing a really good impression of it!
☆☆☆
Mattheo: She's the girl of my dreams!
Theodore: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams.
Mattheo: I have a lot of dreams!
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*
Mattheo: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?
[Y/N]: I—
[Y/N]: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.
☆☆☆
Draco: I have an idea.
[Y/n]: A good idea?
Draco: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
☆☆☆
*Draco is laying on the floor with their eyes closed*
Mattheo: Hey, are they sleeping or dead?
Theodore: Hopefully dead, I hated them.
Mattheo: Yeah, me too.
Draco, sitting up: First of all, fuck you guys.
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: That sounds like a terrible plan.
Theodore: Oh, we've had worse.
☆☆☆
[Y/N], texting Mattheo: Text me when you’re home safely.
Mattheo: I’m home dangerously.
[Y/N]: Stop it.
Mattheo: I’m home lethally.
☆☆☆
Draco: Hey, what have you two been up to?
Mattheo: We were helping [Y/N] write their vows, but they kicked us out because Lorenzo was making inappropriate suggestions.
Lorenzo: How is “Theodore, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate?
☆☆☆
[Y/N], talking about Mattheo: Is this a friend of yours, Draco?
Draco: Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.
☆☆☆
Theodore: What is wrong with you?
Mattheo: Loaded question. Elaborate.
☆☆☆
Draco: Guess what I'm about to get!
Blaise: On my nerves.
☆☆☆
Blaise: All of your existences are confusing.
The Squad: How so?
Blaise: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you deeply upsets me.
☆☆☆
Draco: How did you convince everyone to betray me? What did you offer them?
Blaise: I just asked if they wanted to embarass you and they all said yes.
☆☆☆
Theodore: Hey, are you okay?
[Y/N]: Yeah.
Theodore: You don't look okay...
[Y/N]: Then stop looking.
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Draco.
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: Kill me nowwwww.
Mattheo: Sorry, no can do. I need your help with my homework.
☆☆☆
Mattheo: Lorenzo! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover.
Lorenzo: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.
☆☆☆
Draco: You read my diary?
Blaise: At first I did not know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.
☆☆☆
Blaise: [Y/N] won’t come out of their room!
Mattheo: Just tell them I said something.
Blaise: Like what?
Mattheo: Anything factually incorrect.
Blaise, shrugging: If you say so.
[Y/N], arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: If you got arrested what would be the charges?
Lorenzo: Theft.
Blaise: Disturbing the peace.
Theodore: Aggravated assault.
Draco: Arson.
Mattheo: All of the above. In that order, probably
☆☆☆
Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle.
Blaise, with Theodore and Mattheo behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?!
Police: Yes…three.
Blaise: Oh, my God— What the fuck!?
Police: Wha-
Blaise: Lorenzo FUCKING FELL OFF!
☆☆☆
Mattheo: I said ‘No’ to drugs, but they wouldn’t listen.
☆☆☆
[Y/N]: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.
Lorenzo: You and me!
[Y/N]: *tearing up* Ok.
☆☆☆
Theodore: *yawns*
[Y/N]: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.
Theodore: Then you must be exhuasted.
Blaise: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.
#slytherin boys#lorenzo berkshire#theodore nott#blaise zabini#matteo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#blaise zabini x reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#lorenzo berkshire x reader#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#harry potter universe
665 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astrology Observations: Air Sign🌬️
Air signs may seem air headed and dumb on purpose, but they allow other people to underestimate their intelligence until they want to show you how smart they really are.
Aquarius placements,especially Mercury, may suffer a lot from information overload. The sign loves learning and picking up new things to process, but when they start researching without a purpose they can consume too much and end up overstimulated.
If you have prominent Gemini placements, you could’ve been the one sent out to do errands in the family. Since Mercury the ruling planet is the messenger of the gods, people may have treated you as someone that was there to help with completing minor tasks.
Libra placements and their love for reading is heavily underestimated. These are the people I think of when they say book smarts. My libra friends consumes books for a living.
Gemini placements can get anxious when there is a lack of communication so they overcompensate by always finding something to talk about. As a Gemini rising myself, I would often be the one to raise my hand in class to answer questions when no one else would want to speak because the silence was deafening.
Libra placements can find a lot of conflict in maintaining relationships and love, because of the Aries opposite influence. The mars nature of Aries will create hurdles and battles to be faced, which pushes Libras to figure out how to bring back harmony.
Aquarius is just as detached and head in the clouds like Pisces. However, whereas Pisces does it to escape to a fantasy, Aquarius is always thinking about what is the future and the next thing to do.
Mars in Gemini will always have something slick to say. They are not the ones you would want to get in a verbal argument with.
Mercury in Libra has a mind that’s always focused on aesthetics. Even if they aren’t aware of it, they think of things that are pleasing to the eye. Their voice is often soothing to hear.
Moon in Aquarius have a hard time processing their emotions. They overanalyze their emotions oftentimes like a computer. This can make them seem detached and not show much emotion outside, while internally they feel things somewhat chaotically.
Air signs are often considered the funny group of the zodiac. Gemini and Libras can easily make most people laugh. Aquarius on the other hand, can often get mixed reactions for what they find funny. The thing is they don’t care because for Aquarius it’s about making themselves laugh.
Libras and their dilemma of being nice, only for the other person to think they are flirting with them.
Geminis can seem like they talk to everybody, but these connections are often surface level. They are just really good at making small talk, but they only trust a few people to have deeper conversations.
558 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
laurensliminalspace
Lauren's Liminal Space
sambucky-boyfriendism
Bez tytułu
cube-rasp
Untitled
loyadotweb
EXPERT
yoontopia
moonlight