#they prefer going with someone over going alone
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Honeymoon 2: Afterday
Male Reader x Yunjin x Somi
Tags: 6k, anal, creampie, food play, gxg, oral, threesome
The story is not ours; we simply alter the original story to our preferred settings
I laid in bed with thoughts of the previous night dancing in my head. The image of Somi’s face screaming out in bliss as she came played on repeat in my mind. I was in a very peaceful and erotic sleep when all of a sudden, I was awoken by the feeling of someone jumping on top of me.
“Babe, wake up!” I heard Yunjin yell. I slowly opened my eyes to see a smiling Yunjin looking down on me. “Morning!”
“What time is it?” I asked still groggy and tired from the previous day.
“Just after eleven. You missed breakfast.” Yunjin stayed straddling my lap over the sheets. She was dressed in just a pair of loose shorts and a tank top.
“Sorry about that, hope you didn’t mind eating alone,” I told her as I closed my eyes and rubbed my hand back and forth along her bare leg.
“I wasn’t alone, I ran into Somi down there and ate with her.” That snapped me out of my morning haze.
“Somi?”
“Yeah, I saw here entering the dining area when I was at the omelet bar, so we sat together. She was telling me about this secret nude beach the hotel has up the road. I told her we’d go with her today.” I tried to hide the mini panic attack I was having at this news. I had no clue what Somi was up to. Did she just enjoying toying with me in front of Yunjin, or was she out to destroy my relationship? I didn’t know how I’d be able to control myself around Somi at a nude beach since in the last 24 hours she’d already gotten me to cheat on my new wife twice.
“Really? I was thinking we could just relax in the room today. You know, take a bath together in the tub. Maybe do that thing we were walking about with the whipped cream and chocolate sauce,” I then moved her off me. “Though first I think maybe we should do something about this.” I lifted off the sheet and exposed my dick to the sunlight.
“Maybe I should leave you two alone to take care of that,” another woman said, “Unless you want some help.” Looking to the doorway, there was Somi leaning against the doorframe smiling while looking at me and Yunjin on the bed. She was dressed in a bikini top, a sarong, and flip flops.
“Oh shit!” I said in surprise and quickly pulled the bed sheet back up to hide my nakedness.
“Yeah, I probably should have mentioned that I invited her up with me,” Yunjin laughed at my shock.
“It’s not that big a deal Minho, I was going to see it anyway at the nude beach,” Somi chuckled and gave me a wicked grin. “How about I just meet you guys downstairs in an hour?”
“Sounds good,” Yunjin agreed.
“Okay. Bye, Minho. Or should I say, big dick Minho.” Somi giggled before turning and leaving.
“I think she likes you,” Yunjin said before leaning down and began kissing the side of my face and neck.
“Yunjin are you sure about this whole nude beach thing? And going with her? Wouldn’t it be better if we just stayed here together?”
“Come on, I really want to go. Somi made it sound like fun and it’s totally private. Her company sent her and the rest of the staff here before her next tour, and a bunch of them went, and no photos of any of them or anything ever came out. I can’t even imagine that kind of freedom.” Yunjin continued to kiss her way down my body. “How about you think it over, and while you do that, I take care of you?”
She removed the bed sheet and slipped off her shorts. Quickly she was back to straddling my lap this time there was nothing between our privates. Yunjin rubbed her lips up and down along my shaft which was pressed up against my stomach before raising up and lowering herself down onto my cock. It felt amazing having Yunjin ride me again but as I watched her, my mind was also flashing back to last night and the prospect of watching Somi run naked through the ocean waves.
“I love you,” Yunjin told me as she leaned over me
“I love you too,” I told her and we kissed. I closed my eyes as I felt her tongue slid into my mouth. We made out tenderly. However, with my eyes closed, I was now picturing a wet naked Somi emerging from the water and jogging in slow motion towards me.
“God Som… you feel amazing,” I said as we broke off our kiss, almost saying Somi’s name by mistake. I spun us over so Yunjin was on her back and we fucked in missionary position. We kept humping one another, Yunjin wrapped her arms and legs around me. She made me keep eye contact with her until she finally came on my cock. Watching her beautiful face contort as she came set me off. I quickly pulled out just before I came. Splashing her pussy lips with my cum.
Yunjin reminded me that we needed to get ready to meet Somi down in the lobby. I took a quick shower and threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Yunjin was dressed similarly to the way Somi was earlier, with a bikini, a sarong, and sandals. She grabbed her beach bag with our towels and stuff as we headed out.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked Yunjin as we rode down the elevator.
“Yes, I’ve never been to a nude beach before. I always had to worry about paparazzi showing up or someone else taking pictures. Why are you not more excited about this? You’re about to spend an afternoon on a tropical beach with a naked me and Somi. I’m pretty sure there are millions of men out there who would literally kill to be in your place.” Yeah, she was right. I needed to relax and somewhat enjoy today. Or at least pretend to, so I didn’t make Yunjin suspicious of anything.
“Yeah I know, I just wanted to make sure you’re cool with this.” The elevator doors then open and we stepped out. Somi was in the lobby dressed the same as before, only now she had a big bag similar to Yunjin’s as well. Somi already had a car waiting outside to take us to the private cove where the beach is. The ride was only about 5 minutes before we were let off at dirt lot that was surrounded by trees. Yunjin and I followed Somi as we walked on a path between the trees that led to a set of stairs that which went down to the beach of the secluded cove. Somi had said that this nude beach was pretty private, and she was right. The place was still on resort property, the opening to the cove was roped off so boats and jet skis could not come in, and unless you were with someone who knew where the beach was it was doubtful anyone would ever find it. As we walked down the stairs, I could see a couple dozen people were also at the beach. A number of which seemed to be couples of various ages, there was a group of 7 or 10 college-age girls and several guys who seemed to be alone and just there to check out the women.
As we got down to the beach, Somi and Yunjin went to find us a clear spot while I went over to where they were renting out beach chairs and got one for myself. As I walked back over, I noticed some of the single men watching Yunjin and Somi lay out their beach towels. After I put my chair down in the sand, I tossed my phone and wallet into a beach bag and took off my shirt.
“Wow, somebody got kind of kinky last night,” Somi said, referring to the hickies Yunjin had made on my neck and collar bone. Though at least two of them had been made by Somi herself.
“Yeah, I guess I got a little carried away last night,” Yunjin said.
“You don’t remember doing it?” Somi asked while taking off her top and exposing her breasts.
“No, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night,” Yunjin replied. She then looked around and took a deep breath before taking off her top as well. The two women then dropped their sarongs and bikini bottoms and stood totally naked on the beach except for their sunglasses. “Alright Minho, your turn.”
I grabbed the waistband of my shorts and got ready to push them down, but right as I was about to drop them, I watched as Somi spun around and bent over to get something out of her bag. Of course, she kept her legs perfectly straight as she bent over giving me a great view of her ass and her pussy peeking out underneath. As I pushed my shorts down, I prayed for God to give me the strength not to break down and fuck Somi right here on the beach. When she finally stood up, she had a bottle of sunscreen in her hands. I couldn’t help myself from getting rock hard as I watched Yunjin and Somi rubbed their bodies down with the lotion.
“Stop staring and put on some sunscreen,” Yunjin said while throwing the bottle at me.
“And remember at a certain point you’re no longer applying lotion, you’re just playing with yourself,” Somi teased as Yunjin started applying sunscreen to her back. I laughed, though when it did come time to put lotion on my crotch, I could not help but give my meat a couple of extra strokes.
Over the next two hours, the three of us enjoyed ourselves and the beach. The girls sunned themselves on the beach and I tried to do some reading, though could not help but check out the two ladies. I found myself sitting in my chair comparing the two women’s bodies.
Both had dark areolas, but while Yunjin’s nipples were nubs, Somi’s were more like pencil erasers that stuck out. Both had completely shaved their pussies, Yunjin’s was a total innie, while Somi had slightly longer inner lips that stuck out a bit. Somi had a nicer ass and toner legs. As much of a distraction as they were on the beach, in the water they were not better. Yunjin and I made out some and fondled me, but we also played around with Somi a bit. Just the usual kind of horseplay with dunking one another under the water and me tossing the girls a bit. This led to some purposeful groping by Yunjin and some “accidental” touching by Somi. Somi and Yunjin had fair share of guys checking them out and I saw the group of college girls look me over, though no one thought anything of our touching. Somi told us that that kind of stuff was not a big deal. She’d seen far worse at the beach and then pointed to a couple at the far end of the beach who were clearly fucking on a beach chair.
“That kind of thing happens here all the time. I don’t see him here today but there is a local bartender guy at the resort’s dance club. I swear his cock has to be a foot long and all he does during the day is hang out here hoping to bang with one or more girls who are on vacation. He’d be all that group over there,” Somi told us while pointing at the group of college girls as we stood in waist high water. “I remember coming down here for a sunrise yoga session, by the way, Yunjin they do naked yoga here at sunrise every day and you should total try and do it before you leave.”
“Okay, that sounds great.”
“Anyway, I just remember leaving when it was over one morning and watching him just plow two girls on the picnic table over there. When he came it was like a super soaker went off.”
“You and him ever hook up?” I asked.
“No. He’s got a big dick and all but he’s kind of an asshole. He tried hitting on me once, but literally, all he did was walk up to me, shake his dick in my face and ask if I was interested. When I said no, he just walked on to the next attractive girl,” Somi told us. “I’m thirsty, you guys want anything?” Yunjin and I both asked for her to get us water. She then sauntered out of the water, giving an extra wiggle to her ass as she walked. I turned to Yunjin and she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. I kissed her back and moved us back into deeper waters.
“You having a good time?” I asked her.
“Yes,” She gave me another kiss and wrapped her legs around me. Her sex now pressing right up against my erection. I let out a groan as felt her press harder up against me. All the teasing and spending time around these two naked beauties had me hard almost the entire time and it was starting to take its toll on me. “I told Somi to stop her teasing. I can tell it starting to get to you.”
“Thank you, but you know I love you, right?”
“Of course I know that. But you’re only human. If she keeps accidentally rubbing her ass against you and bending over in front of you, I almost wouldn’t blame you if you snap and jam that big dick of yours into her. God knows she’s been asking for it.” Yunjin didn’t know the half of it. While she may have seen some of the touching Somi had done under the water, what she had not seen was earlier when she went to the bathroom Somi basically pounced on my dick and deepthroated me for a blissful two minutes. She sucked my cock hungrily but made sure to stop before she had to worry Yunjin seeing us and before I could have a chance to cum.
“Please, this dick is only for you,” I told my wife and then used my hand to take aim and thrust into her under the water. Yunjin bit her lip to muffle her moan as I pushed my full length between her folds. The two of us just stayed in the ocean like that, with my dick soaking inside her as we kissed and talked lovingly to one another. I gave a few slow and gentle thrust but mostly I just let my cock soak in her pussy as to not draw attention to ourselves. I don’t know how long it would have taken for me to cum from doing that, but I was not given the chance to find out as we were interrupted by Somi yelling at us from the water’s edge that she got us some food. We begrudgingly decoupled and walked back to our beach towels to join Somi for a mid-afternoon snack.
After we ate the girls went back to sunning themselves and I hopped back into my chair and tried to get some reading done. I was finally starting to actually concentrate on my book when I noticed Somi moving around. She had sat up on her elbows and now had her chest up thrusted into the air as she tilted her head all the way back to look at me sitting behind her.
“So… does that thing ever go down?” Somi asked referring to my ever-hard dick.
“I’m hanging out with a pair of the most beautiful women in the world, both of whom are naked, and I haven’t been able to get off. The fact that my dick hasn’t exploded is a borderline miracle,” I half-joked.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to take care of him as soon as we get back to the hotel. I’m starting to feel like we’re torturing him,” Yunjin added
“Why don’t you just take care of him now?” Somi asked.
“What?” Both of us said.
“I told you before, people have sex out here all the time. So just go on and blow him. The poor guy needs it badly,” Somi encouraged her.
“Are you sure?” Yunjin asked. I was going to say she didn’t have to, but it would be really hot to do it, and I was super fucking horny. Yunjin rolled onto her stomach and crawled over to me. With her now on her knees in front of me, she looked up at me and asked, “Do you think I should?”
“I... I can’t answer that. You can’t really expect me to answer whether or not I think you should give me a blow job.” Yunjin looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then started to lean down and go for it.
“Yes, yes,” Somi said excitedly as she got up on her knees and got moved closer to get a good view as Yunjin stuck out her tongue and began licking the head of my cock.
“Kind of salty,” Yunjin said before opening her mouth wide and started going down on my dick. God, her mouth felt amazing. I could not help myself from putting my hand on the back of her head and pushing her head down on my dick.
Normally, I was not the kind of guy who would take hold of Yunjin’s hair and move her head up and down, but I was so desperate to get off I could not help it. Yunjin just put her hands on my thighs and let me bounce her face up and down on my cock.
“Umm yeah, make her suck that big cock.” Somi encouraged me. Looking over to her, Somi was watching us closely, but also sat back on her knees far enough that I could see her fingering herself as she watched. “Fuck that beautiful face.”
“Oh god, Yunjin, your mouth feels so fantastic. I can’t wait to cum, and then get you back to the hotel and just pound that pussy of yours up against the wall,” I told Yunjin as I continued to bounce her head up and down my pole.
“Do it. Cum in her mouth.” Somi moaned while she had on hand work her cunt and another playing with her nipple. “Cum in her mouth, and Yunjin, when he does, don’t swallow. Just collect it in your mouth and then show it to me. I want to see your mouth full of his juice.”
“Oh god,” I moaned. I was close to cumming. My eyes darted back and forth between Yunjin sucking me off and Somi playing with herself. “Shit, uggghhhh,” I grunted as I came, locking eyes with Somi as I came in Yunjin’s mouth. Just like she asked, Yunjin collected as much of my cum in her mouth as she could, though some ran out of the corner of her mouth. Yunjin turned to Somi and opened her mouth to show her my jizz in her mouth. Then something happened that shocked both me and Yunjin. As she opened her mouth, Somi pounced on her. She quickly wrapped her hands around Yunjin and pulled her in for a big open mouth kiss. I watched her shove her tongue into Yunjin’s mouth and saw as the two ladies shared a forceful kiss with my cum passing back and forth between their mouths, some of it ran out of the mouths and down their bodies. Watching this made my dick even harder than it was before the blow job.
Somi eventually let go of Yunjin’s face and she backed off a bit. Yunjin looked completely stunned by what just happened and had no reaction as Somi then sucked off some of the cum that had dribbled down Yunjin’s chest. It was so hot to watch, had I not been so shocked I would have pushed one of them over and started fucking them. It didn’t matter which one.
After that whole display, we all agreed it was time to get back to the hotel. We got dressed quickly, Yunjin called for a car as we walked back up to the parking lot. I was planning on getting in the backseat with Yunjin and Somi for the ride back to the hotel until a Toyota Yaris pulled up to drive us back to the hotel and I was forced to sit in the front passenger seat. Despite being a short ride, it felt like forever. I was dead serious about wanting to fuck Yunjin up against the wall as soon as we got back to the hotel. Behind me, I could hear Yunjin and Somi whispering back and forth and a sudden gasp from Yunjin.
When we got back to the hotel, I took Yunjin’s hand and speed walked through the lobby to get to the elevator. I did not even realize Somi was still with us until we were on the elevator. When the elevator got to our floor, I pulled Yunjin off and we both yelled goodbye to Somi. The two of us practically sprinted to our room.
“Where is your key?” Yunjin asked as we approached the door.
“It’s in my wallet, I threw it into your bag earlier,” I told her. Yunjin dug through her bag as we stood in front of the door.
“I don’t see it, but I found my key,” she said as she pulled it out of her bag and stuck the keycard into the door. She opened the door and I pushed her in. Letting the door close behind us I grabbed her bag and tossed it into the room.
“Remember what I said on the beach about fucking you against the wall?”
“Yeah,” Yunjin replied wrapping her arms around my neck, knowing what was about to happen. I pushed my shorts to the ground and then picked up Yunjin. She wrapped her legs around me and I pulled her bathing suit to the side. We kissed hungrily with open mouths as I pushed her against the wall and jammed my cock into her cunt. I pounded her hard against the wall. Neither of us were saying anything other than moans and grunts as we fucked hard against the wall. At one point my leg buckled a bit but that did not stop us. Yunjin dug her fingers into my back as I regained my balance and I swung her over so that we were no longer banging up against the wall, but instead were up against the hotel door. I could only imagine what the banging and moaning against the door must sound like to people walking in the hallway.
“God babe, your pussy is so fucking wet. You must have really gotten off on giving the blowjob on the beach.”
“Yeah. It was so hot. I couldn’t believe I actually did that. It was so sexy. And then the kiss with Somi afterwards and her fingering me in the car. It was incredible.”
“She fingered you in the car?”
“Yeah. We were talking about the beach. She asked if I got turned on by what happened, and before I could answer she pushed two fingers into me.”
“Holy fuck, that’s so hot. I can’t get that image out of my mind. I’m going to cum soon.”
“Do it babe. Cum for me. I want to feel you cum inside me.”
I kept pounding her cunt until my dick burst inside her. Even though I had just cum less than an hour ago, my cock still erupted with the force and volume as though I hadn’t touched myself in a month. Yunjin came as I continued to cum in her.
After we were done fucking, we retreated to the shower to rinse the sand, salt water, sweat, and in Yunjin’s case, semen, off of each other. Once we were clean Yunjin went to take a nap and I ordered something special to be brought up to the room later tonight before joining her in bed.
I slept for a good two hours and when I woke, I was happy that Yunjin was still asleep so I could set up. I quietly went and pulled out a hidden bag with candles in it. I set them up around the living room and opened the door when room service showed up. They wheeled in a small chocolate fountain, with a bunch of strawberries, a couple of cans of whipped cream, and four bottles of champagne.
When the room was all set up, I went back to the bedroom and woke Yunjin up. She smiled happily as I told her I had a surprise for her. She went to go put some clothes on but I told her she would not need any.
“Oh my God babe, this looks amazing!” she said as she saw what I did with the living room. She gave me a kiss before running over to the chocolate fountain. She dipped a strawberry into the fountain and ate it. “Oh wow, that’s really good,” she said, “Ummm, this is all really sweet and all, but I am starving and I don’t think chocolate covered strawberries are going to be enough.”
“I was the same way earlier, there’s pizza under the skirt of the fountain table.”
“Awesome.” I watched her ass as she bent over in front of me and pulled out the pizza. The two of us ate and drank champagne naked on the couch in a candlelit room. Once the pizza was gone, we moved on to dessert. We started dipping strawberries in chocolate and spraying whipped cream into each other mouths. We were also now on our second bottle of champagne. Of course, the alcohol also led to us dripping some whipped cream and chocolate sauce on to one another, which led to us licking those drips off one another. 20 minutes later we finished off the second bottle, and I had Yunjin laying on her back with chocolate sauce dripped all over her tits and nipples, and whipped cream sprayed all over her pussy. She was moaning I went down on all fours to lick her clean.
I had her breast licked clean and now had legs up in the air as I cleaned her body of whipped cream. We were both totally focused on one another to the point that neither of us heard when our hotel room door opened and closed.
“Oh wow, this looks really romantic.” I didn’t have to turn around to know who was standing behind me.
“Somi you’re here,” Yunjin said as I stopped eating her out and dropped her butt back to the floor. Turning my head I saw Somi standing in the doorway in a romper that had a zipper going down from the collar to the crotch. “Wait, why are you here?”
“Your man left his phone and wallet in my bag so I just wanted to bring it back.” She held them both up and tossed them to me as she walked over the fountain.
“Is that all?”
“Umm-hmm.” She said as she ate a strawberry.
“Oh please,” Yunjin said with her speech slightly slurred from the champagne. She stood up and walked over to Somi. “Just admit that you want to have sex with my husband, or me, or me and my husband, or whatever.” Yunjin dipped her fingers into the chocolate and then took them and pressed them into Somi’s mouth.
“Just admit you came down here looking to have sex,” Somi responded by nodding and sucking Yunjin’s fingers clean. Once she had sucked all the chocolate off of them, she pulled Yunjin’s fingers from her mouth and pulled in Yunjin for a kiss. Unlike the beach, this time it was much softer.
I watched as the two women made out. Somi grabbed a can of whipped cream and sprayed both of Yunjin’s nipples, then bent down and licked the cream off. Once Yunjin’s breast was clean, Somi repeated the act again. Yunjin reached for the zipper to Somi’s romper and slowly pulled it down. Once the zipper was down far enough, Somi shrugged the top of the romper off, and it hung at her waist. Yunjin then dipped a strawberry in chocolate and began painting Somi’s chest with it. I watched as my wife began licking chocolate off the tits of the woman I had cheated on her with the night before. Once she had licked her clean, Yunjin turned to me and waved me over. As I made my way over to her Yunjin, she gave me a kiss.
“Fuck her good,” she whispered into my ear.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I know you love me. This is just sex. She’s been teasing you and asking for it all day. Now give it to her.”
I turned my attention to Somi. Unlike yesterday or earlier today where she had been giving me dirty sexy looks, Somi now stood topless in my hotel room with an innocent look on her face. I knew this was just for show. I took one step forward and she lunged towards me. We made out passionately and I shoved her romper down to the floor, leaving all three of us totally nude.
“Fuck me hard. I want you to pound the fuck out of me in front of your wife,” Somi said before jumping up and wrapping her legs around me. I spun her around and sat her down on the cart with the chocolate fountain. Somi let out a loud moan as I pushed my dick into her. Yunjin moved behind me and pressed her tits into my back as I began pumping Somi’s cunt.
“How does it feel? Do you like how my husband fucks you?”
“Yes! It feels incredible. I love his dick. We should have just done this on the beach,” Somi moaned. Somi leaned back and tried to bring my mouth down to her nipples, but as she leaned back, she knocked over the fountain causing the chocolate to spread and puddle over the floor. We all stopped and looked at the mess we made on the wood floors. It gave us all pause, but there was nothing we could do about it now and we were all so drunk on lust it really didn’t matter. I reached down and picked up another bottle of champagne. Shook it a bit and after the cork went flying the liquid shot up and sprayed over Somi’s body. Just like last night, I willing began lapping up the champagne off of the body of the blondie in front of me. This time however I was fucking Somi and I was sucking the liquid off her breast and occasionally giving her nips a bit of a bite. Yunjin continued to press her tits into my back as she alternated between kissing my neck, nibbling on my earlobes, and whispering words of encouragement as I fucked our new friend. The whole situation was the thing that dreams are made of.
I was getting close to cumming, but I didn’t want to give my load to Somi. Or at least I didn’t want to give her this load. Picking Somi off the table, I dropped her down on the floor in the middle of the spilled chocolate sauce. Once she was laid down in the chocolate, I dipped my hand into the spilled sauce and then smeared the chocolate onto her crotch. I then took a can of whipped cream, put the tip into Somi’s cunt and gave her a spray. Somi gave an “oh” as she felt the spritz of cool foam sprayed into her.
“Yunjin, why don’t you eat out your friend.”
“She does look tasty,” Yunjin replied. Yunjin got down on her knees and elbows in front of me, and as she began eating the cream out of Somi’s wet pussy, I moved into place behind Yunjin. I gave her ass a hard slap before taking hold of her hips and I plunged into her and began fucking her hard. The three of us stayed like this for a while. Somi on her back getting eaten out by Yunjin, who was on her knees and elbows getting fucked doggy style by me, all the while we were all in the middle of a large puddle of spilled chocolate sauce. As we fucked eventually there was a chain reaction orgasms. Yunjin was first as she came on my dick and moaned loudly into Somi’s love tunnel which caused her to cum, and the combination of feeling Yunjin cum and watching Somi’s “O” face pushed me over the edge and I erupted inside my wife once again. After we all finished cumming, I rolled Yunjin onto her back and picked the can of whipped cream back up.
“Somi, don’t you think you should repay Yunjin?” Somi didn’t say anything, she simply smiled broadly and rolled onto her knees. As Somi began eating her ass, I sprayed Yunjin’s tits with some whipped cream and began eating it off of her. The two of us doubled teamed Yunjin’s body, I would kiss and play with Yunjin's tits while Somi ate her pussy. A few times Somi went a little further, lifting her butt up and licking her chocolate covered ass. At one point even sticking her finger into her ass while she sucked on her clit. We did not stop our attack on her body until we gave Yunjin a powerful orgasm that made her body shake. The time off from fucking had given my dick a break and now I was back to full mass and ready to give Somi a pounding.
Getting behind her I pushed Somi’s back down so that her ass suck up more. Her ass was covered in chocolate sauce from laying in it earlier. I could not help myself from giving her ass a few licks, before taking hold of her hips and pushing my dick into her. Somi happily pushed her ass back towards me, making sure I was fully into her. Somi and I just pounded each other. The entire hotel room filled with the sound of our grunts, moans, and skin slapping both from me jackhammering her pussy and from me actually slapping her ass which I knew from last night she loved.
While this was going on Yunjin merely sat back and watched as I fucked her friend. At one point she came over to me and kissed me. I reached out and took some whipped cream and sprayed it on Somi’s ass. Then just like I did with her pussy earlier, I pushed the tip of the can into her ass and gave it a spray.
“Lick her ass,” I told Yunjin. She looked at me hesitantly at first then gave me a kiss before turning her attention to Somi. Yunjin began eating Somi’s ass while I continued to pummel her pussy. Somi loudly yelled out as she came hard on my dick. After she came, and the whipped cream was all gone I told Yunjin to back off. Taking what was left in a bottle of champagne I dumped it over Somi’s ass, making sure it was nice and wet before I took my dick out of her pussy and slammed it into her ass. Somi quickly had another orgasm as I fucked her ass.
“I wish I was recording this” Yunjin said as she masturbated while watching me fuck Somi’s ass.
“Me too,” Somi grunted, “I wish I had a video of tonight for when I am alone on the road.” Somi had me stop temporarily, but it was just so that I could roll onto my back and she could ride my dick reverse cowgirl. I watched as my meat slid in and out of her backdoor as she bounced on my rod. I could feel her fingers occasionally brush against my balls as she was obviously rubbing her clit as we fucked. It took a good minutes before I finally came. Blowing my load all up into her ass.
After I came, I thought I was done but apparently, the women were not done with me. I was pushed onto my back as Yunjin used her hand so smear some of the excess chocolate sauce that was still on the floor onto my dick and Somi took a whipped cream can and sprayed my crotch until the can was empty. The two women then went to town on me. They used their tongues to clean the chocolate and cream off of me, while they were also doing their best to stir my cock back to life. At first, the two of them seemed to be fighting and pushing for position, but after two minutes they found a rhythm and seemed to be working in connection with one another. Once the sauce & cream were gone, the two women worked in perfect harmony with each running their lips up and down the side of my cock simultaneously. Had I not known better I would have thought that this was not the first time Yunjin and Somi had been in a threesome together. They had my dick more than back up to full strength.
Yunjin then bump Somi out of the way and got in position. Swinging her leg over my lap, she sank down on my cock and began riding me. As Yunjin bounced on my dick, Somi pulled Yunjin face towards her and the two women kissed. Yunjin rode me hard for a good two minutes before Somi pushed her off of me and took her place. Somi worked her hips even harder and faster than Yunjin dead. Instead of staying at her side, like the way Somi did before, Yunjin moved back and straddled my face. She dropped her pussy down on my face and giving me no other option but to eat her out. After another couple of minutes, the girls switched positions again. This went on back and forth several more times. One woman would ride my cock while the other would ride my face. Occasionally they two women would make out, or grope each other, or suck on each other's tits.
“Oh god, I can’t hold back much longer,” I said as Somi got off of my face. Yunjin had already cum twice and Somi once from our current position. Knowing I would be spent after this next orgasm I tried to hold it off as long as I could, but couldn’t anymore.
“On her face,” Yunjin said as she rolled off me, “I want you to cum on her face.” Yunjin pulled me up to my knees, and Somi laid down in front of me. My cock hung over the top of Somi’s forehead, and Yunjin took hold of me with one of her hand. She began to stroke me, and Somi smiled brightly as she looked up at the handjob happening above her face. It took less than a minute for me to cumming. Somi giggled as my cum rained down on her pretty face.
When it was over, we were all exhausted. We were also filthy. Covered and chocolate sauce, dried whipped cream, sweat, and other bodily fluids from one another. We didn’t even bother to fool around in the shower as the three of us rinsed our bodies clean before going to bed. That night I slept peacefully with Somi and Yunjin cuddling on either side of me. The next morning I awoke as I felt movement on the bed. I opened my eyes but it was still dark outside.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“We’re going to go do that morning yoga Somi mention, but you can go back to sleep,” Yunjin answered.
“Okay.” Yunjin gave me a kiss before climbing back off the bed.
“Yeah, you better get some more sleep, you’re going to need all your energy for later,” I heard Somi say before the girls left and I tried to go back to sleep. Reflecting on the past couple of days I found myself wondering if this some long coma dream or maybe I had died and this was heaven. This was all too amazing to be real. Either way, it didn’t matter and I was going to make the most of my current situation for however long it lasts.
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ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.
(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone
It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation.
The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been.
The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.
“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.
Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.
He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.
When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.
Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs.
You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.
You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.
His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.
He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.
He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.
He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.
He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.
He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it.
But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely.
Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.
“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”
He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.
“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”
You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.”
Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them.
“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”
I love you.
He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.
You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.
“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”
He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.
“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”
Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.
He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?”
He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.
He does.
“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”
Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.
“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.
Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.
“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”
Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.
He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.
You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty.
“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”
Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.
“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”
You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.
He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours.
Then you ask:
“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”
Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches.
Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.
He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.
“Yes.”
“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.
Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.
You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.
You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”
He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.
“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.
“Yes.”
Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”
He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state.
He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.
You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.
“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?”
Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”
You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.
As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.
“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”
“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”
Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.
Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.
“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”
“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.
“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.
Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”
His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.
“You did,” you confirm.
Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.
“Truth,” he murmurs.
You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”
“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette.
He voices his first lie, “No.”
You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.
He refrains, if only barely.
You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.
“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”
“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”
“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”
Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”
If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you were seventeen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.
The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”
Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh.
“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”
He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”
The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.
He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.
“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”
For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.
He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.
Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.
But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”
Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.
“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”
Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?
Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.
Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?
He knows his next question.
“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”
He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.
You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”
“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.
“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”
He halts.
His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.
Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.
So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”
You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”
He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?”
You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”
“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”
“We were never even dating, Daz-”
“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”
“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.
“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”
“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”
Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.
“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?”
Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.
He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.
“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”
He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.
“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”
He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.
“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”
His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?”
Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”
Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”
Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”
“He was,” you confirm.
Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty.
He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.
“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.
He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.
Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya.
Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.
After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills.
For better or for worse, you’re not most people.
In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”
Dazai snorts.
“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”
“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”
“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”
Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-
No. Dazai refuses to believe it.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”
“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”
Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”
“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”
Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”
You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die.
“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”
“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”
You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”
“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.
“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”
Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.
He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.
He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.
After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.
“Are you happy?” you ask quietly
Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.
“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?”
He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”
You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.
So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.
But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?
“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.
There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.
He forces it out anyway.
“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.
A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…
Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.
Your lashes flutter before you speak.
You lie for the first time that night.
“Yes.”
Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”
“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”
Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him.
He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.
“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”
“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”
“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”
“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.
There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”
Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.
“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”
Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.
So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.
No.
“Yes.”
“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.
You don’t.
The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.
“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.
God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.
His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.
There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it.
All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.
He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.
He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.
Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall.
His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.
The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”
Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.
Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven.
You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.
His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”
He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.
Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him.
“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?”
You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.
“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”
“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar.
“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?”
“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?”
“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.
He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.
He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.
He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking…
Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.
It was a very lonely four years without you.
“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”
You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.
“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.
This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.
“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.
You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”
His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand.
12:35
He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.
You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”
He doesn’t waste any time on that.
His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.
Then, he ruins the moment.
“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”
Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”
“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”
“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.
Dazai gags.
“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.”
“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”
You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.
“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”
“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.
“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.
Dazai squints at you hard.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”
“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”
“How-”
“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”
Okay.
Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”
It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”
Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.
“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.
He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.
The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”
Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.
It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.
No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.
His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.
But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.
But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.
He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”
He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you.
Unfair, he thinks mournfully.
“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”
“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”
“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.
“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.
Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.
“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous.
You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-
And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”
A trick.
Dazai knows it.
You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.
He knows it.
He falls for it anyway.
Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.
“Yeah?” he says, voice rough.
Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.
“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.
He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.
He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.
His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.
“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.
“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening.
He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.
His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.
He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.
“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”
“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”
And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.
Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you.
He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s.
It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.
He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.
“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.
You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”
The rest of our lives.
Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”
“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”
Of course, you know.
He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.
“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.
Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.
“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”
The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-
“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”
Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.
(I love you, he means)
“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.
(I love you too)
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai smut#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu smut#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd smut#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs x you
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Security Footage - Body Swaps (Part 2)
A continuation of the story started here- fair warning, this is a long one
The instant Andy realized the swap was starting he retreated to his own room, managing to stumble there even as he felt his muscles withering and his bones shifting inside of him, and he locked the door behind him so Trevor couldn't follow. Andy knew that his boyfriend just wanted to be helpful but these changes were often more uncomfortable than he liked to let on, and he preferred to shield his sweet little guy from as much of the messiness as he could.
Besides that, he always preferred to have a moment to himself to take stock of the changes he'd be stuck with for the duration of the latest swap and this... this was gonna be a rough one.
Andy stared in the mirror and a pudgy old white guy stared back- he knew his dad would lecture him about calling someone in their early fifties "old" but since Andy had been about half that age a few hours ago, he sure as hell was gonna be overdramatic about it. He was bald at 23! That wasn't fair.
He ran his hands over his smooth head and shuddered, which made him even more disturbed because his belly wobbled with him when he moved- his abs would never do that to him. Experimentally he lifted his arm up and tried to flex, but the flesh on his arm just hung downwards instead of rising up like he was used to. It didn't seem like this guy had even looked at a gym in years! Andy didn't understand how some people were able to live without muscles, and he sorely wanted his back.
He tried in vain to make his pecs bounce but the masses on his current chest were sagging fat rather than trained pectorals so they just sat there- it was a strange experience because his brain knew the command to make it happen, knew where the muscles were supposed to be, but the body just wouldn't respond. None of the bodies he switched into could ever make their chest move and he was sick of it, sick of having the things that he worked for taken away from him. Call it vanity or whatever but his physicality had been a core part of his identity ever since he was a kid and he didn't want to be away from it for a second, let alone let somebody else have it.
But the worst part of getting a new body was always checking out the oh-so-important organ that no amount of working out would change, something he had to actually lift up his gut to see this time, and the sight of the wrinkly cock and balls now hanging between his mushy thighs made him want to cry. Size wasn't everything, Andy knew that, but he also wasn't going to lie and pretend that being well hung wasn't a ton of fun, so going from packing the kind of equipment that made other guys jealous to a well below average penis was just... emasculating.
And to top it all off, his knees were killing him.
Andy now kept clothing in a variety of sizes in his closet for occasions like this and he shuffled through them robotically, grimacing when he realized that he was probably going to need the largest sizes to accommodate the waistline he was stuck with. He settled on a pair of sweatpants with an elastic waistband and an XL cotton tee that still rode up slightly and exposed a hint of a hairy belly, and he hated how he looked but at least he felt marginally better once his borrowed body was covered up.
"Can I come in?" Trevor called from the hallway, and Andy hesitated. His natural instinct whenever this shit happened was to hide away in shame, to not let Trevor see him like this, but he knew he needed his boyfriend's help to fix things so he swallowed his pride and unlocked the door.
Trevor slipped into the room almost shyly, keeping his eyes on the floor for a moment, before working up the courage to look at what he would be stuck with as a boyfriend for the time being. One thing Andy admired about Trevor was his poker face- he was very controlled with his emotions, especially compared to the way Andy expressed his feelings with his entire physicality -but despite his placid expression Andy couldn't imagine he was feeling anything other than disgust at the body before him.
"You hate it," Andy's shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to collapse backwards onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, wincing at the whine that the springs gave beneath his weight. He stared blankly at the ceiling and sighed. "I'm a gross old man now and you're never gonna be attracted to me again."
"No, it's just-" Trevor stumbled over his words for a moment as he thought of the best way to phrase things, biting his lip and quirking his head to the side. "It's just the clothes I think, I'm not used to seeing a guy like that in athleisure. You look like you should be wearing a suit or something. That's all."
He waited for a response but Andy didn't say anything, he just kept staring up at the ceiling with his arms spread out like he wanted his hands as far away from his new body as possible, and Trevor's heart broke a little. Admittedly the man Andy had swapped with was... not exactly Trevor's type, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was Andy inside, Trevor's boyfriend who he loved for more than just his body, so he got over himself and laid on the bed next to his now-middle-aged boyfriend.
He rested his head on Andy's temporary chest and the position was a strange sort of parody of the beginning of the evening, as if someone had taken a snapshot of the young couple lying together and used photoshop to replace the golden skinned hunk with a pasty dad bod, but when Trevor closed his eyes it didn't matter what they looked like. As long as he could feel Andy's heart beating, then they could be together.
"I know this is hard for you but you don't have to worry, we'll fix this," Trevor whispered soothingly, and he pressed a kiss into the side of Andy's chin. "We always do. You'll be back to your stupidly pretty self in no time, okay?"
Andy grumbled something incoherent and likely whiney, but he wrapped his arms around Trevor and pulled the skinny young man closer to his side again, which helped both of them relax a bit.
"At least I know who this guy is, he's my classics professor," Andy finally said, and he shuddered uncomfortably. "It's so fucked up to think that I was just sitting there in class while he was watching me, thinking about how he was gonna steal my body."
"Well, it's always nice to have a lead," Trevor mused, half-formed plans already springing into his mind. He nudged Andy on the side. "And he's local too. Remember that time the guy you swapped with lived on a boat? That was a hassle."
"Don't remind me," Andy gave a small chuckle, his laugh hitting the same cadence even with a different voice box. "I got my body back with sunburn on my ass because he kept sunbathing nude, I could barely sit down for a week."
Trevor smiled at the memory of the week Andy spent awkwardly shuffling around. "I'm aware, I was the one who had to rub aloe on your butt twice a day."
"Don't act like you didn't love that," Andy turned his neck to try to playfully bat his head against Trevor but he hissed with pain as he pulled a muscle he didn't realize would be stiff. He rubbed his fingers into his neck and groaned. "Honestly I don't even blame this guy for swapping with me, I feel so gross right now."
"It could be worse?" Trevor offered a weak smile, but his boyfriend remained unamused.
"Could be better too," Andy grumbled, and he glared down at his crotch (which he couldn't even see thanks to his new gut). "You know, just once, I'd like to get a new body and find out my dick is bigger. Is that too much to ask?"
"I mean... kinda?" Trevor rolled his eyes- he'd never cease to find it amusing what a size queen his boyfriend was. "Andy, if your dick gets any bigger you're gonna hurt somebody. The rest of us make do with perfectly normal sized genitalia, maybe it'll do you some good to spend some time living like us common men live."
Andy raised his eyebrow and shot his boyfriend some major side eye. "First off, you know I love your dick and would gladly take it any day over this one," he paused in his rant to bury his face in Trevor's hair for a moment a plant a kiss there. "But more importantly, let me point out that you benefit from my big dick more than anyone, Trev, so you can act cute about it but until we fix this you're the one getting screwed by this thing." He bounced his hips up and down, watching as Trevor's eyes were drawn to his diminished manhood, and he smirked. His hand snaked down and tweaked Trevor's butt. "You're not so above it all- your cute little ass has been spoiled so I know you'll be missing my big guy in no time."
"Hey, I top sometimes!" Trevor protested- weakly, but he protested nonetheless. Being a twink didn't mean he was always the bottom, especially since it would be a shame to waste an ass like Andy's. "You like it when I fuck you. Maybe this is my moment to take over as the big man in the relationship!"
"Oh yeah? You're gonna go top full time?" Andy scoffed and rolled over on the bed, lifting himself up on his hands and knees (despite the way his joints protested) and putting Professor Smith's less-than-impressive buttocks on full display. He twisted his face into an exaggerated smolder and wiggled his hips at Trevor like a challenge. "Doesn't this look so sexy? Have fun going to town on this guy."
Trevor stared at the shapeless expanse of wrinkled flesh Andy was presenting to him and his mind drifted back to his boyfriend's real ass, that toned bubble of perfection that some old man was running around doing god knows what with. He loved his boyfriend for more than just his body of course, but if he had the option of which butt he wanted to sleep next to at night... well there was no contest really.
"Point taken," he admitted with a sigh, holding back a laugh as he watched Andy (still unused to how out-of-shape his new body was) struggle to stand up from the kneeling position he'd placed him in.
Still, always proud when he could get one over on Trevor, Andy smirked and puffed his chest out- a behavioral tic that looked far less impressive now that his chest was sagging man boobs rather than bulging pecs, but it made Trevor's heart swell to see a glimmer of his boyfriend's usual confidence back. Trevor sprang up to his feet as well and smacked Andy on his non-existent behind.
"Now get your flat ass moving so we can get your body back."
🔀
Valencia Street, three blocks west of the college campus, had a nickname: Party Avenue.
Contrary to popular belief, Fraternity Row was actually fairly tame due to the intense restrictions imposed by the school's charter onto affiliated groups- but private residences were not bound by the same rules, so students seeking debauchery had gradually clustered in close proximity until Party Avenue was born. Each weekend, once classes were released, the houses lit up and the students... cut loose.
While school administration vehemently denied the existence of any sort of underage drinking or illegal debauchery anywhere near their campus, faculty were firmly advised (for no particular reason) to stay away from that block on the weekends or risk liability. As such, the street had attained a sort of mythos amongst the teachers of the school as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that swallowed their students on the weekend and spat them back out on Monday for class with a hangover.
Such Earthly delights were denied to the professors... but fortunately Bernard Smith was not a professor anymore, he was a twenty-something college student named Andy. And Andy was ready to have some fun on Friday night.
Walking down Party Avenue while flashing lights spilled from windows and muffled music filled the air felt almost illegal to Professor Smith, but cloaked behind his new face none of the passing students gave him a second glance (save for the occasional double take from someone struck by his looks). The older man felt like he'd become one of the explorers he'd studied in grad school, boldly venturing into new territory in search of treasure- except the treasure he was on the hunt for was far more precious than dusty gold or ancient artifacts. No, he was on the lookout for something... fresher.
"Hi there ladies," he winked at a group of passing girls, who glanced him up and down erupted into pleased giggles as they waved back at him.
Bernard continued his journey with a spring in his step that came from feeling like a complete and total stud; thus far, being a hot young man was intoxicating. All of his aches and pains were gone and replaced with a boundless energy that fizzed through his veins and made him feel like he could lift a house and run for miles with it, but he resisted the urge and instead took things nice and slow. There was no rush, and he wanted to enjoy the first night of the rest of his life in this new body. No sense in skipping to dessert, he wanted to enjoy the full five course feast first.
His new cock seemed to disagree with him, perking up eagerly at the sight of every young woman they passed and trying its damndest to tear through his dress pants to get to her, but Bernard could hardly be upset about having such a virile set of tools at his disposal. He'd had more erections in the past hour with Andy's body than he'd had in the past year with his old one!
A stranger to this area without any clue where to go, the professor treated his new penis almost like a compass pointing the way towards the true North that was the pleasure he sought. He didn't know where it was, but he'd know it when he found it.
"Andy?" someone called out as he rounded a corner.
Bernard didn't think much of that and continued walking, ignoring as the voice repeated the name several times, and it wasn't until a boy ran across the street waving his arms and pointing at him that the professor realized that he was the Andy being addressed.
"Andy Douglass?" the young man asked, clearly very excited to see the boy who's body Bernard had stolen, and without asking he greeted Bernard with a one armed hug and a clap on the back. "My man! Remember me? It's Kirk! Long time no see!"
The older man resisted the urge to grimace and pulled away, taking a moment to assess the young man. "Kirk" was a tall, muscular black boy (though not as tall or muscular as Bernard's current body was, he noted proudly) with a relaxed attitude, a devil-may-care smile, and dim eyes- carbon copies of this exact student had filtered through Professor Smith's classroom for years, another brainless jock who only cared about drinking and screwing. He despised the type.
The most notable thing about Kirk was that instead of clothes, he was wearing a stereotypical "bedsheet toga-" one which the professor knew looked nothing like the genuine article would, and he was deeply unimpressed. Still, because this was his life now, he figured he should play nice.
"Oh yes, Kirk! Yes, it's me, Andy," Bernard cleared his throat and prepared to drop into character- he wasn't an old college professor anymore, this was his peer now. He had to talk to him in a language he understood. "Whazzup bro, how are you hanging this evening?"
"I'm chillin', I'm chillin'. Just out with the boys-" Kirk pointed across the street to a gaggle of equally cliche college students, all clad in similar sheet outfits, and they all waved and hollered over at Bernard. The old man gave them a half-hearted wave, barely concealing his disgust, and returned his attention to the one in front of him, who was still staring at him with those dumb eyes of his. "Man, it's crazy to see you out on a Friday night. You kinda disappeared once you started dating that guy- what was his name, Trent? The little guy. How's he doing?"
"Guy?" Now that caught Bernard's attention.
Andy Douglass was dating a boy? he marveled to himself. That would certainly explain why the young man had never flirted with any of the girls from class. The professor had half-suspected that a stud like that must have a girl back home but he would never have guessed about a boy because Andy just seemed so... manly. Subconsciously, the body snatcher reached up and rubbed a finger over the stubble that adorned his strong jaw, arm muscles battling for space with his shoulder, and he shook his head in disbelief. Kids today and their experiments.
Fortunately the many erections Bernard had gotten in this body from glancing at passing girls assured him he was still a staunch heterosexual, but the reveal had still thrown him for a loop. Thank goodness he'd taken this body, lest the women on campus be deprived of its assets!
Realizing that Kirk was still staring at him with a confused look on his face, Bernard cleared his throat (which rumbled rich and low) and responded.
"Oh yes, him. We won't be seeing much more of him anymore, I've turned over a new leaf- turned out the whole boys thing wasn't for me," he shrugged and threw a rueful smile on his face. "Actually, I'm out tonight on the prowl for some female companionship, if you catch my drift."
"Shit, it didn't work out?" Surprise actually brought a bit of life into Kirk's dull eyes as he shook his head sadly. "Sorry man, but hey, it's his loss. He's a fucking dumbass if he let a catch like you go," Kirk turned his head and spat into the street, then looked sidelong at Bernard with a smirk. "But it sounds like what you need to get over him is to get your dick wet."
"Indeed," Bernard agreed heartily, though the crude expression did make him cringe internally, and he spoke more truth than Kirk would understand. "It's been far too long since I've been in the arms of a woman and I'm starving for a screw."
His dick was hard once again just at the mere thought of being with a woman and he had to reach down to adjust himself before the bulge in his pants got too obscene- Kirk watched him struggle with his endowment and gave a laugh.
"Well if I remember anything about Andy, you're not gonna have to go begging for your rebound," the young man scanned Andy's body up and down and gave a whistle of appreciation. "Damn dude, you're looking swole!"
"Swole?" Bernard patted at his face, feeling for swelling. "Where?"
"Everywhere, man, the gym's really paying off," Kirk reached forward and grabbed one of Andy's biceps, giving the firm muscle a squeeze. "The ladies are gonna take one look at those pythons and their panties'll come flying off."
"Oh," Bernard thought. "It's a compliment."
"Yes, I've got quite a remarkable body, don't I?" Bernard muttered, and unable to resist showing off a bit, he made his bicep jump under Kirk's hand. One of his hands flew up and carded through the meadow of locks on top of his head, and he beamed with a mouth full of white teeth. "All of these muscles, this stunning face, and I've got hair! I'm a modern day Adonis."
Rather than being put off by his friend's sudden vanity, Kirk seemed excited by it, actually clapping his hands together and giving a holler in a show of appreciation. Bernard was starting to like him a bit more.
"Hell yeah, dude! Hashtag love yourself, king," he cheered, but then he paused and cocked his head to the side like a dog. "But what's up with the fit though? You're dressed like you're going to a job interview."
Professor Smith looked down at his clothes: a tight red button up dress shirt that hugged his arms (unbuttoned so it would billow open every now and then and allow for a glimpse of his pectorals) with a matching blue tie and some smart dress pants. Admittedly, the dress pants were a bit snug around the rear end (Bernard was half-worried he would burst the seams before the night was up), but otherwise it was a perfectly respectable way to dress for an evening on the town.
Young people have no sense of class, Bernard thought to himself as he eyed Kirk's wrinkled sheet toga.
"I don't know what you mean, I'm dressed to impress," Bernard said defensively, shaking his arms out and adjusting his cuffs a bit. He glared pointedly at Kirk's excuse for an outfit. "Besides, I think it's very rich of you to critique my smart attire when you're literally wrapped in a bedsheet."
"Oh, you like that?" Kirk stuck his tongue out and struck a pose like he was modelling the unsightly garment. "Lee scored an invite to a kegger some some business students are throwing and it's Greek themed, so I'm dressed like fucking Julius Caesar."
Professor Smith grimaced. "Caesar was Roman."
"Whatever," Kirk rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say same difference, and Bernard was half-tempted to argue before remembering that he wasn't a professor anymore and the ignorance of young men like this was no longer his responsibility. The thought brightened him up considerably, and he was a good mood when Kirk spoke next. "Anyways, this party sounds like it's gonna be lit! You should tag along, we haven't partied together in forever. I can be your wingman for tonight, help you bag the hottest chicks."
And that- Bernard thought that was the smartest thing Kirk had said all evening. Now he had a destination, a party invite, and a handy translator who could help him disguise his complete lack of knowledge of the drivel that kids today passed off as slang. It didn't matter that listening to Kirk talk made him want to tear his new hair out, he'd be leaving him for the company of a woman soon enough!
Besides, he thought as he looked over at the gaggle of unwashed college jocks who would be his companions for the evening, it would do these men some good to see how a real man conducts himself. Perhaps they might learn something from him- though if the grades Professor Smith had been giving out in his classes were any indication, the chances of that were slim.
🔀
Trevor had a separate Instagram page exclusively devoted to following the biggest party animals on campus- not because he cared, but because they were useful. As inane as these peoples' compulsive need to broadcast their behavior to the world was, it also meant that their accounts were a treasure trove of information on where the best parties were and who was at them. All Trevor had to do when Andy got swapped was fire up the app and scan the sea of photos/videos for a glimpse of his pretty face... or more frequently, his ass, which the people who stole his body often left that hanging out and drew cameras to it like nothing else.
"Thank god we live in a surveillance state," Trevor remarked dryly as he picked his way through the crowded living room of the random house party they'd tracked Professor Smith to.
"Speak for yourself," Andy replied, wincing when he looked back at the photo they'd found of his body posing with a drink in one hand and a girl hanging from the other. "It's not your picture floating around on the web."
Seeing pictures like this was always surreal for Andy because it was like getting a glimpse into an alternate reality, one where he'd gone down an different path and become a mindless party animal. The type of guy who pounded down beers, screamed obnoxiously loud, and spent every night with a different girl- visually, he fit the stereotype perfectly, but that wasn't who he wanted to be. Unfortunately, since other people often ran around with his face, he didn't really get a choice in what people thought of him.
While he still enjoyed going out with friends, he was past his party boy days, so a random rager like this on the outskirts of campus wasn't really his scene anymore. Still, at least he was more used to the loud music and crowded hallways than poor Trevor, who seemed to be having an awful time.
"I hate how crowded this place is!" Trevor rose up on his toes and tried to peek over the crowd, grunting in frustration as his eyes roamed a wall of college students' backs. "Why are there people so many people here? Don't they have lives?"
Andy snorted as he watched his petite boyfriend struggling, and it was so cute he wanted to pull him close and give him a kiss, but he resisted the urge to do so when he still looked like their professor. He accidentally made eye contact with a student, who gave him a bewildered look, and he awkwardly averted his eyes. Andy sighed- he was used to people eyeing him up at parties but usually it was because they were checking him out, not because they were confused why he was there.
He returned his attention to Trevor, who was still laser focused on their mission, and quickened his pace so he wouldn't be left behind (doing his best to ignore the way that his fat wobbled as he moved).
"You know Trev," he remarked, glancing around the lively soiree at the smiling faces and dancing bodies. "Speaking as a reformed party boy, I think most people would describe going out and having a good time on a Friday night as 'a life.'"
"Yes, well," the smaller boy huffed and gave a little hop to try to get a bit more height to search the room for glimpses of brown skin and muscles. "They should do it quieter."
Then, as if to spite Trevor's request, the clue they were looking for came in the form of someone being loud.
A group of voices chanting "Andy! Andy! Andy!" echoed over the din of the party, and the boyfriends exchanged a nervous glance before rushing off to find the source of the noise. They traced the shouts out into the (spacious) backyard of the house where a group of clearly drunk guys wrapped in bedsheet togas surrounded a large keg of beer, all of them losing their minds with glee as they pushed a familiar face forwards towards the metal barrel.
There was a brief moment of relief when the boyfriends saw that they had finally located Andy's body, but it was quickly replaced by anger and frustration as they examined the state that said body was in.
Professor Smith seemed to have made himself comfortable in the hunky body he'd stolen: the man was clad only in a bedsheet loosely wrapped around his form (in some approximation of a toga) which hung off of his shoulder and put the rippling muscles of his upper body on clear display. Lipstick stains showing where kisses had been were smudged across the exposed skin, crime scenes in the shiny layer of sweat that coated him, and a blue necktie was tied sideways around his head like he had jumped off the screen of some '80s movie.
If the way he was stumbling around tipsily was any indication, he had been drinking, and as he leaned forwards and grabbed on to the keg with a dopey grin on his face, it seemed he intended to drink some more.
"Oh fuck," Andy groaned, hiding his face behind his hands in shame. Not a fucking keg stand. "Trev, he's making me look like a douche!"
With too much confidence for someone who had only had that body for a few hours, Professor Smith leaped off the ground and jackknifed his legs up into the air, powerful muscles straining as he pulled himself into a handstand position atop the keg. (For a moment, Andy regretted all the time he spent working on core strength- but in his defense, he didn't know that it would be used for this!) Two guys slipped behind him, each one grabbing a leg, and they held him in position as someone else slipped the nozzle of the keg into his mouth.
"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the partygoers chanted, and Andy and Trevor watched in horror as someone turned the faucet and the man in Andy's body began to suck down a copious amount of alcohol.
The boys holding his legs shook him back and forth encouragingly and the sheet toga (which had been tangled around his legs and barely hanging on) slipped down and revealed that Bernard was wearing nothing underneath except his borrowed birthday suit. The reveal of Andy's massive cock, hanging high above the crowd like it was sent from heaven itself, drew another round of cheers from the crowd, and every girl in attendance began whispering to each other. Trevor frowned, feeling a bit jealous for no real reason.
"What the fuck?" Andy's annoyingly white face flushed beet red as he watched his privates swinging around in the air- just because he was proud of his equipment didn't mean he wanted everyone to see it! Fortunately his face was shoved into a barrel and it was rather dark outside so any footage would be blurry, but still, the number of phones he saw pointed at his naked body made him cringe. "Why is my dick hanging out? He was definitely wearing clothes in the photo we saw earlier, what the fuck happened to them?"
"Guess he decided he didn't need them looking like that," Trevor mused, unimpressed by the professor's lack of imagination in how he would use Andy's body. The boy was so used to seeing other people parading around naked as his boyfriend that his perspective on the scene was almost clinical- though he did take a moment to admire the way that the perky butt Andy worked so hard for jutted out nicely when his legs were in the air. "You look good upside down."
"Oh no you don't," Andy slapped his hands over Trevor's eyes, glaring over at himself territorially. "No sexualizing my body until I'm back inside it."
One of the boys holding Professor Smith up gave his ass a smack, allowing everyone a front row seat to what Andy's juicy butt looked like when it jiggled, and he and his partner lowered the stud to the ground. The professor stumbled a bit, a small amount of beer dribbling out of his still full mouth before he managed to swallow the rest of his drink, then he shook his head and let out a huge belch that echoed out into the night.
His companions (for some reason) let out a huge cheer at that and swarmed around him, and emboldened by their attention, Professor Smith threw his head back and let out a roar. As the other boys chanted Andy's name he pounded on his chest like a gorilla, his fists making meaty thwacks as they shook his toned pecs, and it seemed for a moment that he was on the verge of turning into a literal party animal.
The real Andy was growing progressively madder and madder at the spectacle, but before he could do anything, he felt someone tap him on his shoulder. Barely managing to keep a lid on his rage, he turned and was faced with a young woman he vaguely recognized from class staring up at him with confusion.
"Professor Smith?" the girl asked, eyeing him with a mix of surprsie and suspicion. "Are you allowed to be at a student party?"
"No, I'm not," Andy hissed through gritted teeth, whipping his head around to glare over at the impostor wearing his face. "Let me go fix that."
And then he stormed off without another word, leaving the poor student standing there looking bewildered and most likely wondering if she should call someone. Trevor just shrugged at her and hurried away after his irate boyfriend.
🔀
Meanwhile, Bernard Smith was having the best night of his life.
As a teacher, he'd absolutely hated college boys like Kirk. They were loud, obnoxious, and only seemed to care about when the next party was. But now that he was one of them? They were his best bros!
Now that the barrier of age and profession was gone, he found that he had a lot in common with them: just like them, he loved drinking and kissing hot girls. And in light of the recent breakup that Bernard had manufactured, the horde of college boys had been very eager to reacquaint "Andy" with the party-goer lifestyle, guiding him around the festivities all evening and always making sure he had a drink in his hand and a girl on his arm.
And the girls... the girls were glorious.
After years of staring at pretty young college girls from the front of the classroom, the professor was finally allowed to touch them, and he had gone positively wild with the privilege. All evening long he had been gorging himself on forbidden fruit, making great use of Andy's incredible sex appeal to seduce every girl that crossed his path. He'd become a regular Casanova, barely able to get started kissing one girl with one girl before another caught his eye and whisked him away for a make out session of her own.
Getting to grab a barely-legal girl's breasts without her screaming for help was incredibly hot, but the thing Bernard found the most erotic was the way the girls worshipped the peaks and valleys of his rock hard body. Still getting a feel for what his new body was capable of, he'd yet to bed any of them, but if the power in his hips as he ground his huge cock into their thighs and the ease with which he hoisted girls up and pinned them to the wall was any indication, he was in for a borderline spiritual experience when he finally decided to go there.
He wasn't reliving his youth- this was better than his youth! In his youth he hadn't been a hot hung hunk with no cares except which of the girls surrounding him he'd be taking home at the end of the night... that is, if he settled for just one. Perhaps he'd even invite all of them!
The notion was impossibly greedy but well, tonight was a night for indulgence, wasn't it?
His new body was a wonder- he half-suspected he had enough in his loins to satisfy all of these girls and then some. The amount of alcohol he'd imbibed would have made his old cock into a limp noodle and made his liver cry out for help, but as the beer sloshed around in the guts hidden behind his new six pack, all he felt was a pleasant buzz and an easy looseness to his limbs. This body had even made drinking better!
His current healthy cock was still fully operational, something comically obvious at a glance thanks to the sizeable tent in the front of his sheet toga that bounced with every movement he made. The idea of walking around with such an obvious erection would have been mortifying just yesterday, but his new body had allowed him to shed his inhibitions as freely as he had shed his clothes and now he wanted everyone to see that he had a big fat boner. He was damn proud of the thing!
That was the greatest thing that he'd stolen from Andy: confidence. The knowledge that everyone wanted to see him, and that finally, he was someone worth looking at. (Although the penis was great too.)
He shivered as he felt a cool breeze waft across his balls- he'd long ago ditched his formal wear in favor of one of the simple togas that the other boys around him were wearing. At first he'd thought they'd all looked ridiculous, but the more he drank, the better the idea sounded. What was he all buttoned up for? Why had he bothered stealing the body of a young man if he was still going to behave like he was old? He'd discarded those stuffy old clothes in a corner somewhere and proudly joined the ranks of the toga clad college boys.
When in Rome, he thought to himself, not even caring that he'd just conflated the Greek and Roman empires (something he'd failed many a student for).
Besides allowing him to fit in with his new "bros," the bastardized toga also displayed his body perfectly and allowed plenty of places for girls to rub their hands over his bulging muscles- a convenience several were taking advantage of right now.
A blonde on his left and a brunette on his right... he was in heaven.
"You're so big," purred the brown haired girl as she rubbed at his belly- focusing mainly on his six pack, but every so often her hand "accidentally" brushed against the head of his cock. "I love big guys like you."
"Oh yeah? You like what you see?" he clenched his stomach, causing his abs to flex beneath her hand, and she cooed in delight. A glance down at her dark brown bosoms peeking out the top of her barely-there shirt made him pretty happy too.
"I love it," she grabbed her shoulder and tugged him down so she could whisper in his ear. "And I'd love to see more."
A shiver ran down Bernard's back all the way down to his cock, and a small wet spot appeared in the front of his sheet toga. He brushed off the girl who was on his other side (who pouted as she stomped away) and grabbed the other girl by her waist, yanking her close and crashing their lips together. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the two shared a long, deep kiss for a moment before he pulled back.
"Say, how old are you?" he asked, and she looked at him strangely.
"Twenty-four," she said. "Why, am I too old for you?"
Bernard let out a moan of lust and pounced on her, sending the two tumbling to the ground right there on the patio for everyone to see, and his gaggle of new buddies erupted into cheers. He paused in his make out session and looked up so he could shoot his boys a cocky smile, but froze when he saw a familiar face storming towards him.
"Get off of her you thief!" the real Andy bellowed, shoving his way through a group of guys to glower down at the body snatcher currently misusing his body, and the party goers around him erupted into chatter.
The version of "himself" on the floor had frozen in place, staring up the real Andy with an expression of shock on his face, and the girl beneath him (oblivious to the interruption) was still sucking on his neck. The sight of his body in such an X-rated position scandalized Andy (what exactly was this guy's plan, fuck a girl on the lawn in front of a crowd?) but as he glanced around at the attentive crowd, he knew that getting seen being manhandled by a professor would be worse, so he held himself back and clenched his fists by his side as he waited for the thief to respond.
A moment later, the thief snapped out of his stupor and an evil looking grin appeared split his face.
"What the fuck are you talking about old man?" Bernard responded, injecting venom into those last two words, and he rolled his hips and ground his crotch into the girl beneath him (who squeaked with delight). "I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to enjoy myself."
"Yo, aren't you a professor here?" Kirk piped up, glancing between the two with confusion. He grabbed the man he thought to be Professor Smith by the shoulder and gripped him tightly. "Andy, is this guy bothering you?"
Not fucking Kirk, Andy thought. The two had lived in the same dorm freshman year and crossed paths out a lot back in his party days, but Andy had begun avoiding the guy for being annoying as hell and partying too hard. But it looks like the "new" Andy had become fast friends with Kirk, and was picking up some of his bad habits. This guy is the worst.
"Step the fuck off dude," he groaned, shoving Kirk on the shoulder, and (caught off-guard) the boy stumbled back into his posse without much resistance. The group erupted into nondescript hollering, shaking fists angrily, and Trevor decided to step in while everyone else was distracted.
The sight of his boyfriend's body being used to make out with another girl filled him with hatred, but he channeled that into a cold, calculating rage chilled the air between him and body snatcher as Trevor leaned down to whisper in his ear.
"Actually I think you'll want to hear what we have to say, Andy," Trevor hissed the name out through gritted teeth, and it made the hairs on the back of the thief's next stand up. "Somewhere private. There are some things I think you'll want to hear about that involve the 'project' you were working on."
There was a hint of steel in Trevor's voice that compelled Bernard to listen to the strange boy, and undercurrent of a threat that was just intriguing enough that the professor reluctantly pulled himself away from the embrace of the girl in his arms and rose up to his feet.
His abandoned partner scrambled to her feet and grabbed his hand, staring at him with disbelief. "You're leaving?"
Bernard turned to look at the beautiful young woman and grinned, yanking her closer and crashing their mouths together for a deep kiss that lasted about fifteen seconds too long- but he was staring into his old body's eyes the whole time, savoring the rage he saw on the face of the former Andy, who was powerless to stop him. He pulled away and smacked her on the ass for good measure.
"Don't worry sweet cheeks, I'll be right back," he winked. "I don't plan on going anywhere."
🔀
The three retreated into the house (Bernard shouting some weak excuse to his new friends that they were all too drunk to care about anyways) and made their way down a random hallway, pushing open doors to reveal packed tableaus until they found a bedroom that was only occupied by a single couple making out on the bed.
"Out, we need to deal with something," Trevor commanded them, and the pair were so confused by the sudden appearance of the mismatched trio that they obeyed without question, zipping up their pants and brushing past Professor Smith in Andy's body as he strutted confidently through the doorway.
Although he'd agreed to go off with them, Bernard wasn't worried at all about Andy and the other boy; actually he was feeling quite cocky. After all, he was the smart one here and he held all the cards... and he knew just how to remind these two kids who was the alpha in this situation.
Bernard casually let his "sheet toga" slip to the floor to stand butt naked, shamelessly flaunting the beautiful new body that was now his in front of its previous owner, and he flung himself onto the bed with the ease of a man in his early twenties. He leaned against the bedframe and crossed his arms behind his head, his powerful biceps displayed proudly, and made sure to spread his thick legs so that his opponents could have a clear view of the prize-worthy cock and balls he possessed. He had no doubt he made quite a sight, and just to rub salt in the wound he looked straight at the real Andy and made a big show of scanning his former body up and down. His eyes lingered pointedly on its bald head and sagging gut, and an ugly smile split his handsome face as he locked on to his watery old eyes.
"How can I help you Professor Smith and-" he glanced over at Andy's smaller brown-skinned companion and sneered. "And you must be my ex-boyfriend. Trent, was it?"
"Trevor," the boy muttered, boldly holding eye contact with the body snatcher rather than giving in to his intimidation tactics, but Bernard wasn't phased. His new body outclassed Trevor's in every aspect- if anything, he was just surprised that a hunk like Andy had chosen to settle down with a boy like that.
"You're rather scrawny, aren't you?" he remarked, looking down at his pecs as he gave them an exaggerated flex, then back up at Trevor with a pitying smile on his face. "No wonder I broke up with you when I have a body that looks like this."
Incensed by the attack on his boyfriend, Andy shoved himself between the two and glared down at the body snatcher lounging on the bed with all the rage he could muster. Getting a view of himself from the outside always gave him a shocking perspective on how other people saw him- his gorgeous body with its smooth caramel skin and carefully sculpted muscles (his workout routine was hitting right) sprawled out long and large was an impressive sight, but when he looked at his face and saw the sheer malice radiating from the soul hiding behind those eyes, it sent chills down his spine. He was sure that he'd never looked like that.
"You don't have shit actually," Andy shouted, mustering up his courage and jabbing a finger accusingly at Professor Smith, and the man wearing his face laughed at him. "You just stole my body!"
"Excellent deduction skills Mr. Douglass," Bernard sneered, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "What gave it away? Was it the back pains? The baldness? The skin color? Or maybe..." the professor reached down between his legs and took Andy's girthy member in his hands, shaking its length back and forth with a devious grin on his face. "Maybe it was that little limp thing between your legs that you're stuck with now."
From the way his old face grew pinched and red, Bernard knew he'd struck a nerve with that one. The memory of what his old cock was like was still fresh in his mind and he didn't envy Andy one bit- or the little boyfriend, for that matter.
"Regardless of what it was that sparked the epiphany your juvenile pea brain," he continued, hammering the nail in a bit further just to enjoy the look of shame on the formerly young man's face. "Maybe if you'd applied some of those skills to your classwork you'd be getting an A! You should be thanking me- stealing my body was the only way you were going to get a degree."
"Shut up," Andy snapped, desperately wishing that he still had his own body so he could do that thing where he puffed himself up and made himself look scary to get an edge in an argument. As it was, all the weight he had to throw around was fat. "I'm not gonna take shit from some old body snatcher- and stop touching my dick!"
Although the professor obviously wasn't turned on by the sight of his disgusting old body, he couldn't deny the sick sense of pleasure he got from toying with his new cock while maintaining eye contact with its real owner, and his manhood just grew more intimidating every second. The mind games were working- the way the body snatcher rolled it around in his hands so lecherously was disturbing to Andy and set him a bit off-balance.
Andy's dick, not caring at all that it was being used for evil, flopped around looking happy and heavy in the thief's hands and engorged itself with more blood.
Traitor, Andy though spitefully. What was the point of having a big dick if it wasn't on your side?
"From what I've heard, you don't seem to mind when another man touches your dick!" Bernard taunted, malice bubbling up from deep within him. He knew it was something of a playground insult, but he was far past the Rubicon at this point and might as well play dirty.
The professor glanced at Andy's boyfriend and shuddered at the thought of the big dick in his hands being used to pleasure the scrawny young man- or worse, the little fellow mounting Andy's sturdy frame and jamming his own prick into the annoyingly bouncy ass Bernard currently possessed. Not while I'm in charge, he thought to himself.
"I'm a liberal, of course, I don't have anything against gay people, but I must say it seems like such a shame that you were wasting this incredible body on men. A masculine form like this deserves to know the love of a good woman! Preferably a new one every night," Bernard smirked and slid his hands down to cup his balls, gently rolling the heavy orbs around in his fingers. "Hell, maybe even two or three! I'll bet I'm plenty virile now, I can handle it."
"First of all, I'm not gay, I'm bi, I've been with girls before," Andy protested, then he shook his head in disbelief. "Second of all, do you even hear yourself? You just want to steal my body so you can use it to be a manwhore? That's so fucked up!"
"Youth is wasted on the young," Bernard tsked the boy sadly. "Trust me, after a few days in that body you'll come to regret not indulging in life's pleasures while you could."
"Oh I can't wait to fuck a woman with this thing- I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop fucking women with this thing! I tell you kids, it's a dream come true," Bernard grinned from ear to ear, not a trace of shame on his face, and rolled his broad shoulders to feel his muscles stretch. "I could take this pretty face and this big dick out into that party right now and any girl would be on her knees for me in an instant. The young women of the world should be thanking me for liberating this body."
Andy fought the urge to gag (how was this old guy so gross?) and crossed his arms in an attempt to look stern. "Yeah, well, I don't think those girls out there would be happy to find out that the guy they're grinding on is actually old enough to be their grandfather."
"Grandfather?" Bernard gasped. "I'm fifty three, I'm not that old you dunderhead!" Then a devious smile crossed his handsome face and he ran a finger over his jawline, appreciating the smooth, tight skin. "Besides, I believe you're the old one actually. I'm currently what, twenty six years old?"
"I'm twenty-three," Andy corrected him with a harumph. "Jackass."
"Just twenty-three?" Bernard was genuinely surprised by that, and he looked down at Andy's well-developed muscles with a new appreciation. At twenty three years old Bernard had been out of breath when he climbed the stairs, yet in the same amount of years Andy had sculpted himself into a Greek statue. "What are they putting in the food these days? You've got an incredible body for your age, I was right to steal it."
"See!" Andy exclaimed triumphantly. "How do you think you can steal my life when you don't even know how old I am? Do you even know where I live? What my major is? What my family is like?" Andy shook his head. "You'll never be able to pull this off."
"Pish posh," the professor waved his hands back and forth and turned his nose up, a distinctly old school gesture that looked out of place on Andy's form. "I know you've got a handsome face and a nice body, that's all that matters. As long as I've got all this-" he placed his hands on Andy's heavy pecs and heaved the meat up and down for emphasis. "Everything will work itself out."
"Oh yeah? Well all that didn't just happen overnight," Andy snapped, and he put his hands to the sagging manboobs his current body had and heaved them in a mocking parody of what Bernard had just done with his body. "Something tells me you aren't exactly familiar with the gym, do you even know what it takes to build up a body like that? I give it two months before you've wrecked my body!"
"Please, how hard can it be to pick heavy things up and put them down again? I have a PHD, I think I can figure it out," Bernard rolled his eyes, then teased his fingers up and down the ridges of his abs tauntingly. "Besides, you've already given me the base, all I have to do is maintain it. Rest assured that your six pack is safe with me..." he rolled his body to the side slightly so his butt was exposed, and he glared down at it. "Although I'll be happy to let this ridiculous rump of yours go."
"My 'rump?' Ridiculous?" Andy gasped, both hands flying to his mouth with shock. He didn't care how shallow it sounded but his bubble butt was one of his prized possessions- big, shapely, and with the perfect combination of firmness and bounce -so hearing the older man disrespect it like that was borderline blasphemy. "My ass is legendary on campus. Do you have any idea how many squats I had to hit to get a dump truck like that?"
A dump truck? Bernard shook his head. Kids today and their slang.
"No, I don't know how much time you wasted doing squats, and I don't intend to find out either," Bernard frowned at the globes of flesh jutting out of his lower half like they had done something to offend to him. "Honestly, you kids today and your obsession with having big butts should be studied. There's nothing manly about looking like the seams of your pants are going to burst!" Then he reached back and grabbed at one of his cheeks, squeezing it violently in his hands and giving the muscle a rough shake. "And why does it move like this? I'm sick of it bouncing around all the time! No, I think you'll look much better without this thing."
"Okay, that is IT," Andy bellowed, bending forwards and slamming his fists down on the mattress dramatically- to angry to care about how he tweaked his back in the process. "You can steal my face, take my life, make me look like an idiot- but when you come for my ass, it's personal." He pointed at the body snatcher and glared with every ounce of authority he had in him. "You need to get out of my body now, or else."
"Or else what?" Professor Smith sneered. He pushed himself off the bed and drew himself up to Andy's impressive 6'2'' (his new body had about six inches on his old body- and also was four inches taller), spreading his shoulders and puffing his chest out so he looked like a sturdy mountain of muscles. He leered down at Andy with a wolfish grin. "And what are you going to do about it?"
"I'll-" Andy paused, came up short for an answer, then turned to his boyfriend. "Trev, tell him what we're gonna do."
"Are you two done bickering?" Trevor asked, sounding mildly amused. He stepped up to stand side by side with his boyfriend, subtly twining their hands together to show support, and looked up into the professor's eyes. "Because if you are, I'd like to get to the part where you two switch back to your real bodies."
Professor Smith threw his head back and laughed. "Switch back? Why on Earth would I go back to being an old man when I could be this?" He flexed dramatically like a body builder, once again flaunting his strapping young body, and Trevor rolled his eyes.
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," the twink said flatly, unimpressed by the older man's posturing despite how big Andy's body made him look. "You've pulled off a good trick but it won't last forever, there's a way to reverse any spell."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Professor Smith said, looking all too smug. "I translated that spell myself from an archaic hieroglyphic script- I'm the only one on the planet who knows how it works and I'm not keen to give up that secret any time soon."
"Interesting theory," Trevor nodded, glancing down and picking at his fingernails for a moment before looking back up with a knowing glint in his eye. "Well here's my take- you left your shit lying out back at your house and I'm pretty sure what you translated was just a variation of an older Sumerian ritual that I am familiar with. And that's how I know," he paused for dramatic effect, and Andy grinned in anticipation. "That you didn't translate the whole thing."
He slipped his backpack off of his shoulder and began rifling through it, but Professor Smith was more concerned with other matters.
"Wait, my house?" he interrupted, a bit taken aback by that detail. "How did you get into my house?"
"Threw a rock through your window," Andy said with a shit eating grin. "Also I carved a dick into the side of your car."
"You WHAT?" Bernard bellowed, so enraged that he reached forwards and shoved Andy back- but though the boy stumbled, he didn't stop smiling. "I'm going to call the cops!"
"And tell them what?" Andy chuckled, glad that he finally had the upper hand over the body snatcher. "All of your neighbors saw 'you' do it- right before you mooned them, by the way." He turned tail and patted at his nonexistent behind. "Bet they would have preferred to see my ass instead of yours."
"Anyways," Trevor interjected before Professor Smith could say anything else, and he held up a long red wax candle he'd produced from his bag. "If you had done your due diligence with your translations of this spell you'd be aware that it's anchored to the lifespan of this candle here, which means that if I just-" Trevor turned the candle sideways and pushed on both ends, snapping it in half effortlessly. "-then you'll both revert back to normal."
A pulse of energy ripped through the room as the spell unwove itself and the change back was instantaneous- the professor's borrowed body practically exploded with fat, the shocked thief letting out a cry as his massive arms sagged and his tight six pack was swallowed up by a bulbous gut. The jock butt which he had been so rude to deflated like a beach ball and the second it was gone Bernard suddenly realized what a fool he'd been to not appreciate the damn thing. He was filled with despair as he felt the delicious power he'd borrowed abandon him as his stolen muscles melted away leaving him back in the pale and unimpressive body he'd been neglecting for years.
To make things even worse, the absurd amount of alcohol he'd consumed as a massive twenty three year old had stayed with him and his fifty three year old stomach was already revolting.
Worst of all he was still butt naked, and no longer had anything to be proud of.
Trevor averted his eyes from this process- he had no interest in looking at Professor Smith's body now that his boyfriend wasn't stuck inside of it. Instead he looked at Andy as his body snapped back to its true form and returned to him the physique that he'd worked so hard on, which was a much more pleasant sight.
The boy was grinning from ear to ear as his facial features morphed, returning him to his handsome visage, and the wrinkles all across his body faded away as his skin returned to its healthy light brown shade. Hair began to sprout from the top of his head, and Andy breathed out a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers through the wooly strands.
Okay good, he thought to himself. I could not pull off bald.
The transformation to his body was equally dramatic, his rotund form retreating as his frame reclaimed its rightful height and muscle. Andy was glowing with excitement to be a twenty three year old hunk again, Trevor couldn't help but feel a tingle of arousal as he watched his boyfriend shimmy out of the oversized clothes he'd been using to cover Professor Smith's old body to expose his sexy real form instead.
"Oh thank fuck, I'm back to me again!" Andy cheered, hands roaming his body as he took stock of the changes. He needed to make sure that everything was returned to him just the way he'd left it. Pecs, abs, biceps, his beautiful ass- a sudden tug of gravity between his legs confirmed that his dick had reclaimed its former glory as well. A huge smile cracked his face as he stared down, twisting himself back and forth to admire his lovingly sculpted body. "Oh, I fucking missed this!"
"But- that's supposed to be mine!" Professor Smith whined, his own hands pressed in front of his privates to preserve some measure of dignity as he watched Andy caressing the body that had been his less than a minute ago. Already he missed the intoxicating feeling of strength that came with those muscles, and (as he shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet) the confidence that came with having a big cock.
Trevor rolled his eyes and pulled some spare clothes from his backpack to toss to his boyfriend, who caught them effortlessly and began to dress himself.
"Don't be stupid, you know it's not," the smaller boy snapped at Professor Smith, snatching up the oversized clothes Andy had discarded and waving them at the older man like they were a weapon. "And don't even think about trying to mess with occult dealings again or else I'll use some of the tricks I've learned and turn you into an actual pig- since you seem so intent on acting like one."
The professor, feeling much less bold now that he was a middle aged man again, widened his eyes in fear. "You can do that?"
Andy, now dressed in some basketball shorts and a snug t-shirt, slung an arm across Trevor's shoulder and smiled down at his boyfriend affectionately. "Trev can do anything."
"Thank you Andy..." Trevor muttered, his cheeks flushing dark brown for a moment, before he cleared his throat and returned his attention to the would-be body snatcher in front of them. He jabbed a finger at Bernard, getting a small thrill at the way the bigger man flinched. "So here's what happens now: you will delete any records you have of this ritual and pretend like this never happened. Andy will not be going back to your class, but he will be getting an A for the semester. Do we have an understanding?"
"And if I refuse?" Professor Smith ventured, his bluster betrayed by the way his voice shook. Trevor and Andy exchanged a look.
"Then we release the videos we made while Andy was in your body of you doing some very inappropriate and possibly illegal things and you never work again," Trevor said flatly, and Andy gave a devious chuckle.
"Oh and it was some weird shit," the young man taunted. He crossed his arms menacingly- being switched out of his body always reminded him to appreciate the benefits that came with the presence of his own hulking form. "Only seemed fair since you were making an asshole out of yourself with my body that I did it with yours."
Trevor continued. "But if you say yes right now, we'll be nice and give you the clothes Andy walked out in so you don't get fired for being naked at a student's party. Doesn't that sound fair?"
Professor Smith looked down at his naked body let out a small noise from the back of his throat when he finally processed just how bad the situation was for him. Stumbling out without clothes on wasn't an option- if he were still in Andy's body it wouldn't be a problem (hell, people would probably thank him for the free show) but as an over-the-hill professor surrounded by a bunch of students they'd slap him in handcuffs before he could get a word out. He'd be lucky if all he lost was his job.
His eyes darted between the two boys like a rat cornered by two cats, and his eyes landed mournfully on the swell of Andy's pectoral muscles as they pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt.
"So I can't have just one night in his body?" Bernard pleaded, one last desperate time. "Just one, I promise! Or even just an hour! Please, I didn't get to fuck anybody! Hell, I can pay you!"
"Oh hey that's an idea," Andy turned to his boyfriend and grinned mischievously. "Should we make him give us money too?"
Trevor shook his head. "Just the compliance will be fine. And you accept the terms of our deal, right?"
"Alright, you two win!" Professor Smith threw his hands in the air, exposing his shriveled cock, and Andy and Trevor averted their eyes. "No more magic just... can I please have some clothes?"
🔀
The two boys, eager to get things over with, threw the clothes in Bernard's face (along with a promise from Trevor that he would be in touch and Bernard better hold up his end of the deal) and then made their exit, literally slamming the door on the whole ordeal behind them. The dip leaned against the wall of the hallway and caught their breath, staring out at the throngs of bodies and multicolored lights of the still-raging party, and then the two of them burst out laughing.
Andy's entire body was shaking and he clutched at his (once again tight) belly, nearly doubled over with laughter, and then he sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself down a bit. The small shoulder bounces that Trevor always did when he was laughing were starting to fade, and Andy smiled.
"God that guy was a douche," he said, jamming his thumb back towards the room, and Trevor nodded in agreement.
"Tell me about it," he snorted, then he glanced sidelong at Andy. "Was I that bad when I was in your body?"
"Nah," Andy sniffed dismissively, then he took advantage of his reclaimed height and leaned over to peer down at Trevor with a lopsided grin. "When you did it, it was hot."
The expression on Andy's face was so damn goofy that Trevor almost wanted to laugh and flick him in the forehead, but instead the sight just melted his heart. There was a carefree ease to Andy that no one else could match- that was his body and his alone, and the fact that he wanted to use it to be with Trevor (of all people) still felt like a miracle.
"It's good to have you back," the lovestruck boy whispered, not sure if he would even be audible above the din of the party, but from the way Andy's face softened he must have heard it.
"All thanks to you, Trev," Andy murmured back, rubbing at the back of his neck somewhat nervously. He was finding it hard to look into Trevor's chocolate eyes without feeling like a fool so instead he trained his eyes on the floor, grateful that he once again had a complexion that would hide his blush somewhat. "You were incredible in there, I'm so- I'm so lucky to have you. I would have been screwed if you weren't here so, thanks dude."
"Hey, you know I'd do anything for you," Trevor tucked a strand of his floppy hair behind his ear and placed his hand on Andy's shoulder, relishing the familiar feeling of his boyfriend's sturdy form under his fingers once again. "I'm just glad that you're you again. Nobody else can wear that body like you can."
Andy reached his hand up and grabbed onto Trevor's, squeezing it tight with all the love in his body, and the two boys took a moment to bask in the wave of relief that came with successfully surviving another snatch. Trevor studied Andy's face, that beautiful face that everyone wanted for themselves, and he almost leaned in for a kiss- but then he glanced sidelong at the throngs of people watching them and decided against it.
"Anyways, let's get out of here," Trevor sniffed at the air, his nose wrinkling at the smell of sweat, sugar, and weed that wafted through the cramped space. "This party sucks."
"Oh this party's ass," Andy agreed, glancing over at the crowd with a mysterious glint in his eye. "But we gotta do one thing before we go."
Eager to show off a bit now that he was young and strong again, Andy bent at his supple knees and swept Trevor's legs out from under him, catching the unsuspecting boy in midair and effortlessly hoisting him up into a bridal carry. His boyfriend was an easy, comfortable weight in his arms, and Andy grinned- this was why he went to the gym. Those muscles weren't just for show!
"Andy!" Trevor squeaked out, grabbing on to Andy's thick neck for stability. He wasn't worried that Andy was going to drop him, but he was worried about what people would think if they saw them like this. "Put me down, asshole!"
"No can do cinnamon stick," Andy teased, pulling Trevor close for a second so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "Everybody at this party has spent all night watching 'me' run around trying to bang chicks- I think we'd better remind them all that I'm taken. And now that I've got these big old arms of mine back," he hefted up Trevor up and down a few times, like he was pumping iron at the gym, and the twink's stomach swooped. "I think I'm gonna use them to carry you past all of these people back to our apartment so we can watch that damn movie. Would you be down for that?"
Now, Trevor wasn't really one to show off- in fact, he tended to be on the shy side -but swaddled in the arms of his hunky boyfriend (reclining on top of giant biceps like they were pillows, because his life was a fairy tale) he couldn't find it in himself to feel any shame about nodding yes.
And besides, with the way their lives went, the two of them should try to enjoy Andy's body while they still had it.
#male body swap#Series: Security#this turned out so long T_T this is over 12k words#I got sooo indulgent here and just kept adding stuff#I promise the next installment will be more concise
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Seeing Me in You - #2 Unboxing
Masterlist
cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee
——————
Ever so anxiously fearful, he had safely arrived to his new home. After so long of training and treatment, he had been prepared to perfection for his purpose. He was going to finally be put to use.
His trip to delivery had proved painful, even if he was used to dealing with common afflictions. Such a tight cage was unfavorable for his hulking frame, and the constant, numerous shakes and bumps of the truck formed noticeable bruises over his skin, and a sour throbbing in his head.
Thankfully, 374629 wasn’t meant to look presentable. Especially not pretty. He knew he wasn’t, having been utterly made sure of it. Not average looking, even, but he was never meant to be. He certainly was not a romantic, nothing anyone would purchase depending on his level of attraction.
Once set to the ground below his master’s doorstep, he made a point not to listen into the muffled conversation mushing together like cotton clouds above him. Reducing it to a buzz in the back of his mind, he kept his brain nice and blank. His belly still whirled in a mixture of terror and excitement to be inches away from his owner, and minutes from finally being introduced to them.
He could clearly hear as the employees transporting him finally left, leaving him alone with his owner. Leaving him to begin his new life.
374629 froze rigid as light began cracking and seeping into his crate, flooding his face with warmth and blinding brightness. On instinct his eyes shut and wound tight, body curling into itself further.
He hoped his master would be a good master. Didn’t everyone? Every master would be good of course, he had to be grateful to have any master at all. He was lucky. Maybe they would be just like his handlers in the facility. He couldn’t help but wish they were. As much as he was in no place to have preferences, he would have liked the familiarity.
But as his master ever so carefully opened his box, revealing more and more of his face, 374629 couldn’t help but on instinct catch a tiny look. And his master was frowning.
It was obvious he was attempting to hide it, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably so. The fake, half smile failed to meet his solemn, moistening eyes that glittered in the light. Not only was he obviously unhappy with his delivery, but his master was crying.
As 374629 turned back away, he could only hope it was his pet’s unsavory predicament that he found so foul.
Covered in his own grime, tears and sweat, boxers shriveled and dirty, his burly figure was contorted every which way inside of his box. His collar wasn’t even a nice leather, rather cheap and itching raw, red marks over his neck.
Maybe his master had never ordered a boxie before. Maybe he didn’t realize his pet would arrive so disheveled.
“S- sorry,” the man sniveled, wiping his eyes with clammy knuckles, “This is just… a lot. More so for you, of course.” 374629 could sense the slightest of a soft smile in his voice, pulsing warmth through his pet’s butterfly-filled belly.
374629 didn’t know if he was meant to respond. He knew his rules well, repeating one specifically like a mantra in his mind. Do not speak unless spoken to, he told himself, over and over again like the handlers had. But he’d never had someone, let alone a person, apologize to him. Apologize! How could he possibly know what to do?
“Ye- yes, sir.” He squeaked out, meek and shaky. He winced, expecting a quick and burning shock to the throat for his misbehavior - hesitating and stuttering - but, while no longer wearing his training collar, such a punishment never came.
Eyes peeking open once again, 374629 fixated his vision on the wood paneling of his crate. Pets are never allowed to look their master in the face, he told himself, both reminding him of the rules and silently chastising himself for having the urge to do so a second time. He hoped his owner had noticed his previous mistake of doing so, so that he could receive needed discipline for such unacceptable behavior.
“Hmmm… how about we get you up and out of your box, okay?” His master commanded, although spoken strangely. As if it wasn’t a command, rather a question, but 374629 knew very well that it was. Commands were one thing he was good at knowing. “Unless you feel more comfortable in there, then-,”
Before his master could continue, 374629 swiftly and clumsily stumbled from the confines of his box, plopping to his knees beside it. Again he fixed his gaze somewhere beside his master, this time the concrete floor of the hallway, as much as he wished he could look to the man for approval.
“Oh.”
The pet tensed. Did he do something wrong? He failed to discern an emotion from his master’s lack thereof, causing his stomach to quease with uneasiness.
“That’s okay. That’s good, yeah.” The pet could have sighed in relief. “Now, can I ask you a question?”
374629 tensed once again. Another question. He was so terribly confused. Why was his master asking him? Permission, even? It had to be a trick. A test, to see how well he’d been trained, an easy on at that.
“A master does anything they so desire.” He neatly recited, a smile nearly tugging at his lips.
He was being such a good boy. Back at training he would have received a quick and concise good by his handler, and the thought of praise, no matter how little and insignificant, could have him practically drooling.
For a moment, his master paused.
“I guess I should’ve expected that.” He whispered, more so to himself than his pet. His tone almost shone disappointment to his words, a realization that could have brought rich bile flooding his pet’s mouth. “I just wanna know, um, what’s your designation?”
He didn’t even need to think to formulate a reply. “WRU, facility 034, Guard Dog 374629.” He recited on the instant, words rolling off his tongue with perfected memorization. His designation was beat to memory, coming completely and entirely natural to him. In the whole interaction, that was one thing he was sure of.
He heard his master swallow, thick with saliva that danced down his throat. “Guard dog?”
“Yes, sir.” He responded, without falter, and utilizing his deep, low chords.
“Me too.”
——————
Masterlist
Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump
If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)
#My writing#Whump writing#whump story#whump#whumpblr#box boy whump#box boy universe#BBU#conditioned whumpee#institutionalized slavery#pet whump#brainwashed whumpee
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hello people in my phone
BOONE head cannon list, just a mix of stuff that'll probably change later ( THERE WILL BE MORE ) 1/?
• He undoubtedly was ripped/heavily worked out being in the ncr, after moving to novac and loosing his wife he undoubtedly lost a lot of muscle but...guys he still is literally like beefed.
• He cannot fucking cook for shit, he understands what shouldn't be put in your body but from there he has no clue.
• Going off of cooking, he has strict times where he eats, like routine from the ncr.
• For some reason he strikes me as a guy who really enjoys fruit whenever he can get his hands on it.
• Cannot tolerate any sort of spice.
• Smells very mettalic, sweaty, like man must.
• Has a soft spot for cats.
• 1000% is not bald, just shaves his head as he probably prefers the look.
• I feel like with a romantic partner, since he isn't one much for talking his love language would be physical touch or gift giving, I could imagine him seeing stuff he knows they'd like and saving it for later, excited to see how they'd react.
• He would definitely have a special place in his heart for fantasy movies, he doesn't seem to be able to express himself well and I feel like the creativity of something like lord of the rings would get him going.
• I seriously cannot pick so I'll include both, he is either an extreme cuddler with a romantic partner or on very rare occasions, he's just terrible at expressing emotion.
• If the courier and him are something like romantic partners he'd definitely never be able to sleep, often awake staring and listening for noises, waiting for the next cascade of legionares but it never happens and he eventually learns that.
• I don't think he'd ever get married again unless it'd be over 20 or so years in the future, it's a type of commitment that I don't think he could mentally handle whatsoever unless he is totally over Carla.
• I definitely do think boone could find love again in another person, he's scared and alone, fearful for any sort of attachment.
• 10000% has really really nice man hands, like large hands with nice fingers.
• Is definitely tall but not close to arcade tall, 6' ish at MOST, I just feel like looking at his build and concept art that he is definitely a tall man.
• Secretly really has a thing for drawing whenever he can, especially when he was nested at novac, sitting up top the dinosaur scribbling stuff on old receipts or whatever else it helps him get his emotions and thoughts out.
• irl he would be so patriotic it's not even funny, like he'd go all out for fourth of July but is the somber type so he'd cook hot dogs and whatever else then sit in the corner and watch everyone else.
• Has a thing for memorizing features, very very very intuitive and will remember almost anything you tell him.
• He is so the type of guy to enjoy snow, like yeah he'd probably be kinda pissy for a bit but if you pushed his buttons enough I feel like he'd mess around with the courier.
• He absolutely like no doubt has nightmares, like the ones where you erupt in cold sweat and your throat is sore.
• If he does sleep like ever, along with nightmares he grips the sheets, rolls around a whole lot, mumbles. In the ncr he was the total opposite, stone faced, layed straight and slept some what peacefully until later on in his ncr years.
• Yearns for someone, even platonic, to just sit beside him, no words and scratch his back and kinda just touch him lightly. I don't think he'd cry but it's something I could imagine would bring him close to tears.
• He absolutely probably finds almost everyone annoying, like, he just is done with everything and doesn't give two shits about what anyone has to say unless the courier puts some sense into him.
• Really disagrees with gambling, just doesn't like it.
• Wishes he had a nice farm house, out somewhere away from everything, where it has everything he needs and could be away from absolutely everyone. ( of course after extracting revenge on the legion )
• He wants to learn how to play guitar, either he has tried and is horrible or has just never gotten the chance, I have a feeling he'd really be into (irl) like classic rock or something smooth.
• Cannot look at people with features his wife had the same, down to personality or looks.
• Absolutely dreads deep down without realizing going back to novac when the courier disbands him.
• He would like having books read to him, he's a listener not a reader, likes hearing people's voices just not his own.
• At a point probably had a nickname for his rifle, something like Beth or something that was a joke between him and Manny.
• Manny 1000% at a point tried hinting to boone or even confessing his love for him, either the point never got across or they got over it together. ( somewhat ish at a point )
• In all reality I play him out to be a really sweet guy, which I can imagine and he can somewhat tend to be but he ultimately really doesn't care, he'll kill in order to get what he wants ( so be it revenge or whatever else ) even if he isn't necessarily fond of it.
• At a point, consumed by guilt he forgets what Carla looks like and that eats him up inside, like the teeth gritting soul crushing ache for revenge, and a year or two leads him to completely forget her complexion.
#fallout#fallout new vegas#fnv#craig boone#arcade gannon#new vegas#boone#vulpes inculta#headcanon#benny fallout#veronica fnv#rex fnv#fallout 3#fallout 1#fallout 4#fallout show#fallout shitpost#shitpost#ncr#new california republic#writers on tumblr#writing#writblr
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Obsessed
Oliver loves you so much, why can't you see that?
Oliver Aiku x fem reader
College au
Aiku is lowkey a lunatic (completey delusional & unhinged)
warnings: stalking, mental torture, manipulation, deception, gaslightning, coercion || anxiety, paranoia, brief panic attack || dub con bordering on non con (blink and you miss it brief and tame smut at the end *whispers* spooning)
This was supposed to be pure porn but I changed my mind. It did not turn out the way I wanted.
Quick background: mc is being stalked by someone who keeps texting and sending pictures and has been for weeks.
Given that this is a blue lock fic, all of readers friends are guys heh.
wc: 10k
God, why did I stay so long? You think. You usually don't stay at the library for this long, preferring to quickly find the books you need in the moment then leave.
Staying this long means you'll walk home well after sunset. Hours after sunset means it's dark. Darkness means it's easier to follow people. Following someone walking alone means-
I'm overthinking again. You sigh.
This is torture.
It's been a few days since the last text you received. You can't help but to open your phone several times a day and read all the shit the person has sent in the past few weeks, hoping to figure out who they are.
It feels like you're being watched.
You take in every last little detail of your surroundings.
A few people are out and walking who knows where, some of them familiar. You've seen them at school.
Almost home, You tell yourself. The apartment building you call home is less than a minute away.
You turn to look behind you, but no one is following you like you thought . . . and it feels like you're going crazy.
At this point, you expect a text from another unknown ID welcoming you home. The guy on the other side does it sometimes. It's bad enough that he knows which building you live in, you just hope he doesn't know which apartment is yours. You may as well dig your own grave if he does.
The elevator feels suffocating when you step in. You're alone but you keep expecting it to stop before it reaches your floor and that someone else will step in.
What if he steps in? What if you end up alone in this tiny little box with your worst nightmare and-
Ding.
You gasp at the sound, only staying still for a half a second before stepping out.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. What if he's is behind you? What if he's waiting for you to open the door so he can push you in and trap you?
You turn around, heart pounding.
There's no one there.
Just as you unlock your door, another opens a few steps away and you hear familiar voices. Out of the other apartment steps Aiku, and then you see Otoya, they're saying bye for tonight. It's the latter's apartment, you remember.
Aiku spots you but you look away and ignore him. You know them both, not that you particularly like them or enjoy their company, it's just that you share the same friends. You almost wish you were actually being followed for a second so Otoya and Aiku could beat the guy senseless.
Otoya pops his head out the doorframe and asks if you're okay when he sees that you're stressed.
Ignoring them both, you step inside and close the door behind you.
Home.
You're home.
I'm home, You tell yourself, repeating it iver and over for a few seconds.
There's a knock on the door and your heart almost leaps out of your chest.
It's him, it's him, it's him, it's hi-
You hear a familiar voice call your name, followed by, "Everything okay?" It's Aiku.
You gulp and take a deep breath before cracking the door just enough to see his face. Otoya is standing behind him and asks, "Something happen?"
"I'm fine, I," You gulp again, feeling lightheaded. "I just need some rest."
"Sure?" Aiku asks. "You look a bit pale."
"I'm fine, I promise." You insist. "I'm going to bed."
"'kaaay," Otoya gives a peace sign. "night."
You close the door and take a moment to try to calm yourself.
*
Outside, Otoya strains to not laugh out loud. He can't help it, though, forced to slap a hand against his mouth to muffle the sound of his amused giggling.
Aiku hushes him and smirks. "Shut up, you'll ruin everything." He says.
"Seriously, dude, why do you even bother at this point?"
Who knows? Maybe Oliver has gotten a bit obsessed. He won't give up until he gets what he wants, and he wants you.
Aiku doesn't just want sex. He wants you.
"It'll be worth it." He says.
Sure, you don't want him yet, but you will soon.
*
You feel a bit better after a long and warm shower, not a lot, but at least it's something.
You haven't eaten. Honestly, you can't find it in you to eat these days. Sometimes two or even three days pass before you realize you're starving. You've been losing weight for weeks, and looking in the mirror now you see just how much it has affected you.
Aiku was right, you're pale.
Look at me. You feel disgusted by the sight.
It takes you a few moments to force yourself to look away and leave the bathroom to go get dressed. Despite living several floors above the ground, with no buildings facing your bedroom window, you still feel the need to pull the curtain to hide.
What if he is watching? It's impossible to know.
You quickly get dressed, not comfortable with being naked even in your own bedroom with the windows covered, and then it happens again.
Two quick vibrations, the sound of a text, make your heart stop for a second.
Again, two vibrations.
Another two . . .
That's three texts.
Your hand shakes as you reach out for the phone that you honestly just want to smash up. You want to throw away all your electronics and find a cave out in the wilderness to hide in so no one will ever be able to contact you again.
The first one says exactly what you expect, Welcome home.
He was watching you walk home.
You shouldn't be out alone in the dark, it's dangerous. The second text is almost funny.
The third makes your blood run cold, Don't worry. I'll protect you.
When will this end?
While you're holding the phone, he sends a picture. This is the fourth time he's done this exact thing, having written, I don't know where you live. Maybe I should come in and knock on every door until I find yours.
It's a picture of the entrance to the building.
There's a knock on your apartment door.
. . . No.
You dare not move.
Should you look through the peephole? What if it's him and you finally get to see who it is? It could be someone you know, or maybe a complete stranger.
Another knock.
Go away. You want to scream. You want to yell at him to leave you alone.
No more knocks follow.
You don't know how long you stand frozen in your spot, taking slow breaths and standing as still and as quietly as you can.
Only when your feet hurt from standing there for so long do you finally snap out of it. You take your phone and set it to airplane mode, and you lock yourself in the bathroom.
There you remain until morning.
Of course you don't sleep.
You think about calling a friend to come over so you won't have to walk to school alone, or maybe you should just skip today and stay home.
Please . . . You curl up in the corner and sob. I can't take it anymore.
It feels like an eternity has passed when you leave the bathroom.
Staying home felt like the best thing to do. At least he doesn't know which apartment is yours so you can just stay in and not go out where he can spot and follow you again.
Your phone is still on airplane mode and you contemplate turning the function off. Will you only find texts from your friends asking why you didn't show up today or will you get more messages from him?
I'm hungry. You didn't eat last night.
There's very little in your kitchen and your heart sinks when you realize you have to go get some groceries soon.
There's a knock . . .
You gasp at the sound and turn to look at the door. It's the middle of the day so there's no way it's him. He only fucks with you after dark so-
Another knock.
You faintly hear someone call your name. "It's Otoya, you okay in there?"
That's a relief.
The front door cracks open and you look up at him. Otoya rarely shows much emotion on his face but you actually see some worry in his eyes. "Everything okay? You didn't show up at school."
You gulp. "I don't . . . feel very well." Your voice is hoarse and your throat feels rough, itching as you speak.
"I noticed last night. I just wanted to make sure you were all right so I knocked but you didn't answer."
Oh, it was him? It was just Otoya, not the guy on the other end of the phone. "Sorry," You say quietly. "I must've fallen asleep." You lie.
"No worries. Just come over if you ever need anything, yeah?"
"Yeah." You murmur. "Thanks."
You wonder just how messed up you look if it's enough to make Otoya of all people worry.
I'm going crazy. You close the door and sniffle, eyes welling with tears.
A few quiet days pass and it is actually nerve wracking. Normally you would be happy, no texts, no paranoia and the feeling of being watched, but after those texts and the picture of the building entrance you just can't relax.
It feels like the calm before the storm.
You can't shake off the feeling that you're being watched everywhere you go, on campus, on the road, sometimes even when you're at home, feeling the need to check every inch of the apartment multiple times a day to make sure you're actually alone.
"You okay? You've been staring at the textbook forever." Chigiri's voice pulls you from your thoughts.
"Hm?"
He looks worried. Everyone has been worried about you lately, it makes you feel hopeless and pathetic. "More stalker texts?"
You shake your head. "Not for a few days." Your voice is small, heavy with sleep deprivation. "But everytime someone calls or texts or," Just talking about this makes you nauseous. "whenever someone knocks on my door I don't know what to think."
Before Chigiri can say anything else, a few of the other guys show up. Isagi comes and reminds him that they have training soon.
Why does it feel like all eyes are on you?
You're uncomfortable.
"I think I'll go home." You say. Before it gets dark.
"Sure you'll be okay on your own?" Chigiri asks.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's fine." You clear your throat and close your textbook. "I'm fine." You insist.
Keeping your gaze down, you ignore everyone and mutter a quick bye, missing the way a pair of dual coloured eyes watch you walk away.
Thank goodness that the sun is still high in the sky as you walk home.
Is this to be your new normal? Are you supposed to live the rest of your life in a constant state of panic?
Still no texts. No creepy pictures of your building. No knocking on the door. To be fair, it was Otoya, not some creepy lunatic of a stalker.
You sit down on your bed with a defeated bed then fall back.
"I hate this." You whisper.
It's been a week since the night you spent terrified in the bathroom. He has still not sent anything, and for once you're actually in a better mood. Maybe he got bored of me, You think, and you truly hope that that's the case.
The days are growing shorter and colder. Winter is right around the corner and you wonder how you'll feel once it starts getting dark outside earlier. Your mind drifts back to the text that said, You shouldn't be out alone in the dark, it's dangerous.
Yeah, it can be dangerous alright. You haven't felt safe in a long time thanks to the bastard.
You're getting ready to eat, reaching up to the cabinet to grab a plate when there's a knock on the door.
Is it him?
Fuck, what if it is?
No, nothing has happened lately, You tell yourself.
More knocking . . .
You set the plate down on the counter and go to the door, wondering if it's one of your friends. Quite a few of them live in the same building, cheap and close to campus.
Upon opening the door, you find that there's no one there.
Oh, God . . .
Fuck. Shit, shit, fuck.
Your phone vibrates and the sound makes you jump.
You don't want to check it.
No.
Damn it.
When will this stop?
*
It's kind of funny. Otoya peers over Aiku's shoulder and cracks up. "Dude, you'll end up giving the chick a heart attack one day."
What Oliver wants is to be there when you need someone and be the one you lean on for emotional support. He'll have you depending on him in no time. "Hey, you told her to come over if she needs help, right?"
"Uh huh."
Aiku hopes you'll do it now. He's going at this pretty hard and doubts you'll stay alone in your apartment when you think your stalker is in the building. Everyone you know in the building live on other floors while Otoya's apartment is the only one close to yours. Come on, doll, don't disappoint me now.
Oliver wants to jump and pump his fist in success when he hears a knock on Otoya's door. He stays on the couch while his friend goes to open, hearing him say, "Hey, you okay?"
Aiku gets off the couch and goes to the hall where you're standing right outside. You're trying to keep yourself calm but he can see panic in your eyes, those beautiful eyes that should be on him and only him. "Have, uhm . . ." You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Have you heard anyone outside?"
"No, why?" Otoya feigns ignorance. "Are you sure you're okay? You're shaking."
Oliver almost feels bad, but he just needs to make sure his plan works. If everything ends up working out then he's only a few days away from being able to call you his and hold and comfort you. "Stalker again?" He asks.
Aiku doesn't like using that word. It makes him feel like a creep. He's not a creep, he just wants you to be his but you're not making it easy for him.
Your only reply is a small nod.
Otoya steps aside. "Okay, come on. Come in." He urges you to step inside and you're more than happy to. "What happened this time? Did he text again?"
"I- I think he . . . I think he's i- in the building."
Oh, you poor thing.
Oliver tells you to sit down on the couch. You're holding your phone, clutching it tightly.
He doesn't need to give Otoya a look that silently asks him to help out. His friend already knows what to do while Oliver talks to you and tries to calm you down.
Your mind is racing with a million questions, but it goes blank when your phone vibrates in your hand and you look down at it in terror, too scared to check the text.
Oliver looks down at it. "Here, let me." He offers. Your hand is shaking when he takes it from you. "It's okay, I got you." He takes your hand in his and rubs soothing circles on the back. What did Otoya text, he wonders.
Aiku wants to laugh when he reads it. It includes the number of Otoya's apartment, followed by, Is this your place? I can hear your pretty voice coming from inside.
Damn, he really couldn't have asked for a better bro.
"What . . . What does . . ."
Oliver hushes you gently and locks the phone instead of showing you. "It's okay, we'll deal with the guy."
Otoya steps behind the couch. "What's up?"
"You want to check if there's anyone in the hall?" Oliver asks. He's still holding your hand.
"I got it." Otoya gives a thumbs up and heads out. You want to tell him to stay inside, scared that the stalker might be dangerous, but your voice gets caught in your throat.
"Hey, it's okay." Oliver says softly. "Everything will be okay." He lets go of your hand and puts his arm around you instead when you exhale shakily and sob hopelessly.
You're just tired at this point. The past several weeks have left you so paranoid and terrified that you can't sleep. You don't eat, barely drink, you struggle to take care of yourself. It's beyond tiring. "I'm scared . . ." You whisper.
Oliver holds you close. He feels all warm inside like this, loving the feeling of your smaller body in his embrace like he's wanted for so long. He looks down at where your cheek is pressed against his chest and put his other arm around you comfortingly.
You're his.
You don't know it yet but you are his.
*
I fell asleep . . . Your eyes flutter partially open. You wonder when you did, and how you even managed to given how scared you were. How scared you still are.
A pair of arms are around you. You open your eyes further and see that you're in an apartment you don't recognize, then you look up and see that you're being held by a sleeping Aiku, and you remember that you're in Otoya's apartment.
You don't exactly dislike the two, it's just that you don't like their womanizing and their attitudes. Who would have ever thought that you would go to Otoya's place in a panic and be comforted by Aiku of all people?
Oliver wakes up when you move in his arms. "Hey," He clears his throat and blinks. "Hey, you feel any better?"
A tiny bit maybe. "I guess." You say in a small voice. You still don't want to go back to your own apartment where you'll just end up hiding in the bathroom at the sound of your phone receiving a text or a knock on your door.
Aiku can easily see that you're still shaken up and he hopes you'll let him hold you like this even longer.
You exhale shakily. "I don't want to be alone . . ."
"You're not alone, I got you." He rubs your back gently.
It feels nice . . . "Thank you." You whisper, relaxing further against him.
Oliver bites his bottom lip and smiles. You're starting to warm up to him, it's perfect.
It's been a few days and you can't stop thinking about that night. Otoya didn't find anyone in the hallway so you still have no idea who he is, but the one thing you can't stop thinking about is how comforting it was to be held by Aiku.
You feel ridiculous for it, even more so whenever you see him and feel your cheeks heat up.
He asks how you're doing everyday now and if anything else has happened since that night.
It's embarrassing how you almost immediately relaxed so much you actually fell asleep in his arms back then and it makes you want to avoid him.
Oliver hates that. He was so happy to have finally managed to push you to him for support, but now you don't talk to him other than short answers where you tell him you're doing okay whenever he asks, and he can't stand it.
He hates having to scare you so much. Why are you being so stubborn? Why do you try to hide how much it affects you? All you're doing is forcing his hand at this point. Why won't you just let him in?
He contemplates sending a text or two or maybe a picture of your apartment building. Those don't usually do much, though. Aiku exhales heavily as he tries to think of something more effective.
The door knocking was enough to get you to go to Otoya's apartment, but no more than that.
What to do? What to do?
Oliver doesn't want to threaten you. He doesn't want to scare you like that. You're his special girl, after all.
What to do?
*
It's gotten dark, You think grimly.
Classes are done for the day and now you're forced to walk home in the dark. The boys have training in a bit so you can't walk back to the student apartments with any of them, and all your other friends live in the opposite direction. It would be rude to ask someone to accompany you home and in turn force them to walk twice as far back to their own place.
Damn bastard.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pick it up.
The colour drains from your face when you unlock it and open the text you've received, a picture of you right this moment.
The picture has been taken from your left. You turn in a flash to see if you can spot the stalker, but you only see your peers. Some are standing in groups and talking to their friends, others are looking down at their phones as they're leaving for the day.
Who is it?
Who could it be?
Where is he?
"Hey,"
You spin around with a sharp gasp at the feeling of someone touching your arm.
"Shit, did something happen?" It's just Aiku. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He steps back to give you space. "What happened?"
You're breathing too fast for comfort now, unable to speak. All you manage to do is point in the direction behind you and look down at your phone.
"Again? What the hell does the guy want now? Show me."
Hands shaking, you take a moment to unlock your phone and open your texts. Aiku takes your phone and reads the message from the No Caller ID that says, You look really good today. He open the picture and takes a sharp breath.
"Sick fuck." He spits. "Hey, don't look down at it. Look at me." He holds your shoulder. "Look at me. It's okay, I'm right here. You're not alone now, okay?"
You're not alone.
Aiku is with you right now and that brings you comfort.
"'m scared . . ."
"I know," He says softly. "I know. Everything will be okay, we'll figure out who the guy is."
You've lost any hope of that happening.
"Hey, come on, I'll walk you home, yeah?"
You gulp. "B- But . . . practice . . ."
"It's fine. I can skip this one time. You shouldn't be alone right now."
You only nod at that, grateful to not be on your own. Having Aiku walk next you makes you feel safer than you have in months, but you honestly feel guilty about all this and want to apologize for having go through all this trouble just because you're too scared to do anything on your own.
"How you holdin' up?"
You look down at the ground as you keep walking. "I'm sorry."
"Huh?" Oliver turns to you. "What for?"
"For . . . all this."
Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. "What, for being scared?" Aiku asks. "For needing help? I'd be surprised if you weren't scared. Everyone needs support sometimes, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
You're fighting back tears. "But I . . . I- I shouldn't need to be walked home like this."
Oliver frowns at that. Does that mean you don't want him there? You're really not making this easy for him. "It's okay, I don't mind."
You finally look up and turn to him, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Aiku wonders if you'll let him wipe them from your cheeks if they fall. He would love nothing more than to comfort you like a man and hold you close. He can't even begin to imagine how good it would feel.
When you turn away from him to look ahead again, Oliver carefully takes his phone and does his utmost to make sure you don't spot it.
He sets his caller ID to hidden and types away . . .
You're startled by the feeling of your phone vibrating. You've grown to hate it. Most of the time it signals a text from a hidden number from your nightmares.
You read the text. It sends chills down your spine. Got a boyfriend, huh? Did you forget about me, sweetheart? It says.
You freeze in your tracks and Aiku stops a step later.
"You good?"
No. No you're not.
You simply hold the screen out for him to read. Aiku puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You look up at his hard face, he's looking all around you. "Damn psycho." He mutters harshly. "Come on, let's hurry."
He doesn't need to tell you twice.
Terrified out of your mind, you reach both hands out and hold his arm for safety. It's not much, but it does make you feel a bit better.
Oliver swears his heart skips a few beats at that. He has to use all his strength to restrain himself. Fuck, you're killing him with how long this is taking.
He stays by your side all the way up to your apartment, and there you find it impossible to let go of his arm. "Will you be okay from now on?"
Of course you won't. You shake your head in reply.
"You know," He feels warm. "I could stay over and make sure nothing happens until tomorrow. And Otoya will go home soon enough, I'll call for him if something does happen."
You really don't want to be alone. "I . . . You don't have to."
Sure, you might be saying that, but your body leans even closer against his and you let out a shaky breath.
"I'm staying." Oliver says. It's not a question. "I can't leave when you're this shaken up."
Maybe Aiku can finally scare the stalker away. "Okay . . ." You truly hope he can because this is getting ridiculous and you're exhausted.
Once he's inside, Oliver wants to yell out in triumph at how easy it was to get you to agree. Only a few more days and he won't have to keep at it. All you need to do is let him all the way in and he can put the whole thing to rest and enjoy you.
Your apartment is cute, just like you are. Oliver could stay here forever, and if his plan succeeds then he might just be able to.
*
Oliver decides not to send anything for now. He hates scaring you so much, and you were pretty shaken up on the walk to your apartment. It wouldn't hurt to prepare in advance, though.
You're currently taking a quick shower.
Aiku steps into your bedroom and takes a deep breath. He's never felt like this before.
He listens carefully to make sure the shower is still on.
Only a few minutes later, you step out of the bathroom with no idea of where Oliver went just minutes prior. He's still on the sofa and watching tv, just as he was when you left to shower.
Strangely enough, you don't feel uncomfortable with him there. Only a few months ago you would have rather drank acid than let him into your home, but now his presence puts you at ease.
He notices you and offers a smile. "Feel any better?"
"Yeah, a bit." You say softly.
Oliver exhales slowly when you turn around to go to the kitchen. You really are the prettiest girl he's ever seen. He can't stop thinking about what you look like under your clothes and how pretty you would luck under him.
You're his beautiful girl. He's counting the seconds to when he can finally say it outloud.
"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" You ask.
"Nah, I'm fine." Oliver shakes his head.
What he wants is you.
Earlier, he decided to give you a few days of peace, but now he wants to send only one text. If you get anxious again then he can be there and hold you and help you calm down.
You drink some water and take a moment to think about everything. You're lucky to have friends who care, even when you insist you're okay on your own. Even Aiku of all people is going out of his way to make sure you're not alone.
It's actually not as awkward as you thought it would be. He doesn't annoy or pester you with endless questions, instead talking to you about other things in an effort to get your mind off things.
It works, for some time.
"Are you sure about staying? I feel like I'm just inconveniencing you."
Once again, Oliver thinks you don't want him there and he feels like he's been punched in the gut. "If it helps you feel any safer, I'm more than happy to." He says. Oliver won't let you push him away now that he's so close to getting what he was.
It's getting late.
You've brought a pillow and covers for him sleep on the sofa, and for the third time today your phone receives a text from a hidden caller ID.
It's a short text that reads, Good night, pretty girl. Sweet dreams.
Oliver frowns next to you when you tense up. "What is it? Show me."
When will it end?
He takes your phone from you and set it down on the table in front of the sofa. "The guy better pray I never find him." He mutters quietly. "Okay, c'mere, I got you." He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close.
You're even more grateful to have him there now. If you were alone you would probably lock yourself in the bathroom and cry your eyes out again. "I can't take it anymore . . ." You whimper into his chest.
Oliver hushes you softly and puts his hand on the back of your head. He leans back against the sofa and pulls you with him, now rubbing your back soothingly. It feels so good to hold you like this, he can't get enough of it.
This feels oddly calming.
Like this, all you hear is the sound of his steady heartbeat. It's soothing, helping you relax with each soft thump.
You finally manage to slow your breathing down and sigh, going limp against him. "Thank you . . ."
Oliver smiles down at you and combs his fingers through your soft hair. "Close your eyes," He says softly. "I got you."
You wake up the next morning and find that you're still in Oliver's arms. He has pulled the covers over you and is awake, running his fingers through your hair.
When he notices that you've woken up, he smiles softly. "Hey there, how do you feel?"
You want to die.
Death would be preferable to being constantly watched by some lunatic out there.
You close your eyes again. "I'm tired." You whisper. Tired of being scared, tired of constantly looking over your shoulder, tired of feeling helpless.
"Sleep well?"
The feeling of him playing with your hair is a nice one. It's weird to see such a soft side of Aiku when you've known him for a while and seen his goofier side with your shared friends. "Yeah," You mumble. "thank you."
Oliver is loving this.
Strangely enough, the following several days are quiet.
Neither of you actually agreed to it outloud, but Aiku now accompanies you on your walk home from campus everyday and it becomes a routine. If he's busy with practice or has classes after yours have all ended then you wait, and it feels nice to have him walk by your side.
You get suspicious when you don't receive any texts from the stalker, wondering when he'll send you something again and what the text will say. Ever since Oliver stayed over that night it's been radio silence.
Your friends are just as confused by the lack of texts and a few are hopeful that it means the stalker just grew tired of tormenting you, the rest are worried about what he'll send in the future.
"Bitch ass." You mumble to yourself. You hate the guy more than anything and you wish the worst for him.
It's the weekend and you've been studying ever since you came home from school.
Your phone vibrates next to you but it's not from the stalker, it's Oliver calling you.
Never in a million years would you have ever thought that seeing Aiku's contact calling you would make you feel all warm inside.
He's asking how you're doing and if everything's okay.
"Everything's fine," You say. "I try not to think about all that now that it's quiet."
"Fucking finally. Let's just hope nothing happens."
"Yeah." You sigh. "I think I'll go to bed, I'm getting tired. Thank you for being there."
"You don't need to thank me, doll, I'm happy to help." Oliver says. "I didn't want to bother by coming over, but I'm at Sendou's and getting ready to leave. He lives two floors below you."
While he talks, your phone quickly vibrates in your hand and you quickly set it on speaker to check the text you've received. It makes you jump in your seat and quickly turn around to look around in the room.
Oliver hears you shuffling around as you stand up and storm out of your bedroom to turn all the lights in your apartment. He asks if you're okay but you don't hear his voice in this state.
He is there.
He's there, he's in there, he's in your apartment.
He's watching you, you can feel it.
It feels like he'll pop out and grab you any second now.
I can't breathe. Your head feels light, like everything is spinning. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
You drop your phone and try to reach the door instead. You can't stay in there, not when he is in the apartment and watching you.
Suddenly there's loud knocking on your door and you almost scream when the sound startles you.
Is he outside or inside right now? Is he in the apartment or knocking on the door to get in?
Where is he? Where?
You hear your name being called.
The voice is familiar.
It takes you a few seconds to find the strength to stand up and reach the door, your hands shaking as you try to unlock it.
A few seconds pass and you look behind you, vision blurry and cheeks wet with tears.
There's no one behind you.
Where is he?
Finally unlocking the door, you fling it open and find Aiku and Sendou standing outside and looking worried. Oliver reaches out to hold your shoulders but you step forward instead and cling to him as your legs go weak and give out.
"Hey, hey, what happened? What's going on?" Oliver quickly asks. "What's wrong?"
"H- Here . . . Here . . . He- He's here . . ." You can't breathe. You can't breathe.
Oliver hold you close and hushes you by your ear.
You hear Sendou walking down the hall and knock on a door. It opens, Otoya, and Sendou tells him to follow. They enter your apartment while Oliver sits down on the hallway floor with you in his arms. "Easy now, I got you. I got you, you're safe, I'm right here." Oliver says softly.
You sob into his chest, terrified.
"There's no one in there." You hear Sendou's voice. "Here. Look." He shows Oliver the text on your phone that's still unlocked.
You've got a nice apartment. I really like your bedroom. It's cute.
Sendou doesn't know what Oliver has been up to these past few months. No one except for Otoya does.
"Hear that?" Oliver looks down at where you're still sobbing into his chest. "There's no one in there."
That doesn't make you feel any better. You don't want to go back inside your apartment, you don't want to stay and sleep there. You shake your head and whimper, fisting his shirt at the mere thought of going back inside. Oliver hushes you again and puts a hand on the back of your head.
Sendou says, "I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay here right now." Oliver knows that Sendou genuinely worried about you, but he has no idea just how long Aiku has waited for this.
"How about staying at my place tonight?" Oliver ask in a gentle voice. "How's that sound?"
You only nod in response.
*
It still feels like you're being watched, you can't shake the feeling. It has you holding Oliver's hand while you walk and clinging to him desperately for safety. You're outside his apartment and feel the need to look behind you to check the hallway while he unlocks the door. "It's okay, I won't let anything happen to you." He squeezes your hand and leads you in. He closes the door and immediately turns to you, pulling you in for a hug. "You're safe here. Nothing will happen to you."
You haven't said a word since leaving your building.
"Come on, doll, let's get you to bed." He pulls back and cups your flushed cheeks where fresh tears have started running, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks gently to wipe them.
Being able to finally call you his is just within arm's reach.
"Oliver . . ."
Fuck, you're killing him.
He leans his forehead against yours, still caressing your cheeks. "I'm right here." Oliver whispers. He pulls you into another hug and waits for you to lean further against him. You even put your arms around his neck which is more than he could have asked for in the moment. "C'mere," He doesn't waste any time, moving an arm down to pick you up and hold you close. "I got you."
You keep your arms around him and your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he carries you through his apartment, only looking up when you feel something soft beneath you.
It's his bed, but you don't want to be alone right now.
Just as Oliver goes to lean back from you, you tighten your arms around him, whimpering out a desperate, "Please don't leave me."
Shit, shit, shit. Oliver is sure he's going to die now.
"You sure?" He asks, voice low.
"Please . . ." You whisper.
Oh, this is fucking perfect. This is much better than Aiku expected.
Oliver lets you lie down on his bed, and he doesn't know how to handle the view of you down there, then gets down next to you. He lets you rest your head on his arm, putting the other around your smaller frame and pulling you into his chest where you instantly close your eyes and sigh in relief. "Try to get some sleep now. You're safe here." He whispers.
"Thank you, Oliver."
He's so close to finally getting what he wants in life. What he needs.
You're my beautiful girl, Oliver thinks and smiles down at you. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and features soft and relaxed. Aiku has finally managed to turn himself into your safe space.
"Oliver . . ."
He moves his hand up to brush away the hair that covers your beautiful face. "Yeah?"
You open your eyes to look at his, dual coloured and mesmerizing. "I'm . . . I'm so scared these days."
For a moment, Oliver feels conflicted. He just wanted this, to be the one you will always seek out and rely on, but he also wonders if he's taken things too far. Seeing your pretty eyes all teary like this is breaking his heart, but he's more than happy to help you heal from this and build you back up again.
Oliver has all the time in the world now. You trust him, he knows that, and he'll never let you leave his side. "I'm sorry this is happening," He caresses your cheek, touch soft. "I'll help in any way I can."
Please, please just let him do this.
Aiku needs only you in life, why does he have to do so much to get what he wants?
Please don't push him away.
Oliver leans closer to you, eyes still locked with yours. It's a wordless plea. He's asking you if it's okay.
Please don't say no.
If you push him away now he won't know how to handle it. He doesn't want to keep scaring you.
"Oliver . . ."
He's so close.
When you don't push him away, Oliver closes the space between you and finally presses his lips to yours.
Maybe he should've waited a bit longer and given you some more time to calm down, but he can't take it anymore.
He needs you.
Oliver doesn't push for more. He breaks the kiss after only a few seconds, but it's enough for now. "That okay?" He whispers, heart pounding against his chest.
You gulp, feeling dazed. "'s okay."
Perfect.
*
You wake up the next morning with Oliver's arms wrapped around you. This is the third time it has happened, and by now you've grown to enjoy the feeling.
He's still asleep.
You can't help it, but you end up laying there and just watching him.
Oliver is a handsome guy, yes, but you've never looked at him like that before. You don't know when that changed during the chaos of the past few weeks, but it's not the worst thing ever.
You reach out absentmindedly and brush his bangs from his eyes. His hair is softer than you imagined, you want to run your fingers through it forever.
He stirs a bit and takes a deep breath as he wakes up, eyes fluttering open and softening as soon as they meet yours.
"Morning." You say softly, hand on his cheek.
He smiles tiredly and closes his eyes again. "Morning, doll." Oliver puts his hand over yours and traces small circles on the back of your hand. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah." Much better than you have in months.
Oliver loves that he's the reason why you feel safe enough to have a good night's sleep now. "Stay here for a few days," He opens his eyes. "I don't want you to feel like that again."
"You sure?"
"Mhm." How could he ever want anything else? "How would you feel about it?"
"I don't want to be a burden."
"You could never be." Oliver is confused by that. How could you ever think that you would be a burden to him? He leans closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. "Stay here until you feel better."
Staying with Oliver? You wouldn't exactly hate that.
Oliver has never felt happier.
You've been staying with him for a few days now, showing no signs of wanting to leave. He knows it's because he makes you feel safe, something no one else manages to do.
He does his best to make you feel comfortable in his apartment, never pushing things too far and being careful not to say the wrong thing. The last thing Aiku wants is to scare you away.
You can't leave him.
You cannot.
Oliver wouldn't know what to do without you now that he's gotten a taste of life with you by his side. He would never forgive himself if he ruined this.
"You okay?" Your soft voice pulls him from his thoughts. "You look stressed out."
That's right. He stresses himself out every time he thinks about losing you, but he will not lose you so he should stop tormenting himself. "Just a bit tired." Oliver says. He's sitting on the couch and you're standing right next to him.
Oliver wants to hold you.
He takes your hand and pulls gently, bringing you down to hin. Aiku puts his hands on your waist, like he's been doing every now and then these past few days, and leans forward to nuzzle into your shoulder.
He always feels overjoyed when you let him do this. The first time he did he was scared you would push him away.
Oliver swears he's in heaven when he feels your fingers comb through his hair.
"Thank you for letting me stay." You thank him once again.
Oliver hums softly against your shoulder then turns towards you to place a kiss on the side of your neck.
He wants you so fucking badly.
"No need to thank me." He wraps his arms around your waist. "I'm just happy you're feeling better."
Oliver doesn't need to send you any more texts as long as you're with him. Everything is perfect this way and will stay as such so long as you don't leave.
He needs to make sure you'll stay.
Oliver waits until you decide to go to sleep. You did feel bad after your first night at his place, but all he needed to do was wait for you to start overthinking again and then he could hold you in his arms all night long.
Maybe he can finally try to take it a step further.
He'll never get tired of seeing you in his bed.
Oliver loves holding you like this more than anything. Your body fits in his arms perfectly because you were made for him and him alone. My beautiful girl. Oliver caresses your cheek.
He can't get enough of you.
When he first started doing this a few days you would blush and avoid his gaze. Now, it makes you smile up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours.
"It feels like all I'm doing these days is just thank you over and over." You say. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there."
Oh, if only you knew just why he was always there every time you needed someone.
Oliver feels bolder than he did days ago now. He leans down and slots his lips against yours, and it's the best thing he has ever felt.
He's careful to not push for too much and make you uncomfortable, but fuck, it's hard to restrain himself.
Oliver hopes you won't say no next.
He pushes gently on your shoulder to get you to move onto your back, and when you comply he moves on top of you. You don't seem uncomfortable or even shocked, thank fuck for that, and it spurs Aiku on.
He breaks the kiss and pulls back to look down at your flushed face. You look so pretty like this, Oliver has never felt like this before.
No one can compare to you. He regrets wasting his time on other girls when he could've focused all his attention on you instead.
"'s this okay?" He whispers.
You feel hot. Oliver makes you feel things you've never experienced. "Uh huh . . ."
He's so close to getting what he's waited for since the day he met you.
Oliver kisses you again and you welcome it eagerly, pulling him closer by putting your arms around his neck.
You're so perfect.
You're perfect.
Oliver needs you more than he needs air. He can't live without you, he loves you so much
Oliver loves you. He loves you. He loves you.
*
Oliver wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating softly on the nightstand. He sighs, annoyed, reaching out to pick it up.
Otoya.
Oliver gets out of bed carefully, making sure you won't wake up as he leaves and goes to open the front door where Otoya is waiting outside and smirks in amusement when he sees Oliver. "Mission accomplished?"
"Almost." Oliver yawns. "What's up?"
Otoya holds up the phone Oliver bought to text you with most of the time a few months back. "I keep forgetting to give this back at campus but I was close by and remembered it a few minutes ago."
Oliver takes the phone. "Thanks, bro."
"Well you seem happy." Otoya notes. "Score yet?"
"No, she's more than that." Oliver would never see you as just another girl to sleep with. You're his precious love and he'll never let you go. He doesn't need anyone else, only you.
Aiku doesn't know that his special girl woke up from him getting out of bed.
You're confused by what the boys are talking about, standing by the bedroom door and listening.
"Well, be careful with that thing." Otoya nods down at the phone. "I don't want to see the hell everyone will raise if they find out her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer." Otoya puts on a sweet, girly voice and makes a cute face.
Otoya's words hit you like a punch in the gut.
Oliver slaps the side of Otoya's head playfully and says, "Shut up, that won't happen."
"Here's to hoping." Otoya fistbumps him. "Later." He turns around and waves as he walks away.
Your mind goes blank.
Oliver?
What?
Otoya's words echo in your mind, "I don't want to see the hell everyone will raise if they find out her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."
Your legs go weak.
". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."
You slide down to the floor.
The front door closes.
You gasp, eyes going wide.
Footsteps . . .
Oliver is coming back to the bedroom. His bedroom. The room you've been sleeping in for days. The bed you've laid with him in. The bed he's held you in every night.
". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."
It has to be a joke right?
Right?!
"Oh?"
Oliver's voice makes your blood freeze.
"Hey, what are you doing on the floor?"
You look up at him, eyes wide. Otoya's words fill your mind again, ". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."
"What are . . . you . . ." Oliver realizes.
You heard.
You stare up at him in terror.
It's him.
What kind of a cruel, sadistic joke is this?
It all suddenly makes sense, how could you be so stupid? Every time something happened either Oliver or Otoya would be there. Otoya was in on it, too.
The texts, the pictures, the knocking . . . all those times you felt like you were being watched . . .
Just as Oliver moves, about to walk up to you, you shake your head. "Please don't hurt me."
"No, no, no, I would never hurt you." Oliver kneels down in front of you but you back into the wall. "I'd never hurt you, doll."
The room suddenly feels too small.
You can't stay in there, the room where you've been sleeping in Oliver's arms on his bed when he's been playing you like a damn fiddle all along.
You push yourself off the floor and try to leave the room but he stops you by grabbing your arms. "No! Let go!"
Oliver can't let you leave. You'll never come back if you run away now. "Please just listen to me for a minute," He pleads. "let me explain-"
"No!" You cry. "No, no!"
Oliver lets go of your arms to hold your face in his large hands instead. "Please, doll, listen to me." He forces you back against the wall and cages you in, wide frame preventing you from running away. You can't leave, you can't.
If he could torment you over the course of months so easily, what else is he capable of? The thought terrifies you and you can't stop the tears from running. "I trusted you . . ."
Oliver's heart breaks at the sight of your tears. Maybe he did take some things too far, but it's okay. All he needs to do is show how much he loves you. "You can still trust me, baby girl, I'd never hurt you, you know that."
"Oliver, please . . ." You whimper. "I'm scared . . ."
Scared of what? Of him? "You don't need to be scared, doll." Oliver says softly. He wipes the tears from your cheeks. "Please don't cry."
"O- Oliver . . ."
He's the one who turned you into a shell of your former self who spends every moment terrified for your safety.
Why would he do this?
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oliver whispers over and over again. "I'm sorry for scaring you, doll, I'll never do anything to hurt you again." He promised. "You're the most important person in my life, I can't live without you."
How can you trust him after learning all this?
"Please don't hate me." Oliver begs desperately. He is beyond terrified now. He can't let you leave, it would kill him. "Please don't hate me, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you."
If he loves you so much . . . why would he put you through all this? "Y- You . . ."
"I love you." Oliver breathes. He prays you won't push him away, then leans down to kiss you desperately. "I love you," He whispers against your lips. "I love you and only you, I love you so much."
If you were in your right mind right now you would condemn him for him actions and demand answers, but you're not. You look up at Oliver, in a daze from the kiss. "Y'love . . ."
"I love you." Oliver kisses you again. "You know that I do, don't you? You know how much I love you, doll, yeah?"
You see nothing but panic and desperation in his mismatched eyes, the same ones that have only looked at you with pure adoration for weeks now. "Y- You love m- me . . ." You murmur.
"Yeah, that's right. That's right, I love you. You're the only one I've ever loved." Oliver captures your lips in a heated kiss.
There is still a tiny voice inside you that is telling you to get a grip, yelling at you to push him away. Aiku is the one who put you through so much shit that you nearly lost your sanity, the one who scared you so much you broke down.
Oliver kisses you like his life depends on it. He needs too show you just how much he loves you, he needs you to know.
"Oli- Oliver-"
He's scared that you will tell him to let you go and he can't take it. Oliver will never let you leave, not when you're finally his.
You're still crying and he hates himself for being the cause of your tears. Oliver brushes the fresh tears from your cheeks and whispers against your lips, "You'll let me love you, won't you, doll? You'll let me show you how much you mean to me, right?" He moves his hands down your body.
He loves you . . . Oliver loves you, you can see it in his eyes.
"You'll let me, won't you, baby?"
A small nod is all you manage to give as a reply.
You gasp when you feel his warm hands on your skin. He pushes your tank top up to finally feel your soft skin. Oliver has waited for this for so long, he'll be damned if it ends before it even begins. "Let me show you."
"Oliver . . ."
He steps back from the wall and pulls you with him, guiding you to the bed and pushing you down. You're overwhelmed and want to tell Oliver to wait, but he doesn't let you say anything and kisses you again.
You push on his shoulders lightly. "W- Wait . . ."
"What's wrong, doll?" Oliver coos down at you, cupping your cheek. "Just let me take care of you, I'll make you feel better."
He leans back enough to sit on his knees for a second, pulling his t shirt off and throwing it away. The sight makes you feel hot and he can see the effect it has on you. It swells Oliver's ego to know you like what you see, even if you don't say it outloud.
There's a part of you that wants to push him away but . . .
Oliver can see the doubt in your eyes.
He leans back down and brushes his lips against yours. "You want me to make you feel good, don't you?" Aiku pushes your top up. It tingles where his skin meets yours and you exhale shakily. "I'll make it all better, doll. That's what you want, ain't it?"
You gulp, and you nod.
"Yeah?" Oliver smiles and presses a quick peck to your now swollen lips. "Want me to make it better?"
"Uh huh . . ."
He has you now.
Oliver has you and he will never let you go.
*
Everything feels so hot . . .
You can't breathe.
You can't think.
All you feel is Oliver Aiku.
Your discovery is long forgotten. He's doing everything he can to make sure that you will never care about it again, and it's working. Every time he feels you tensing up or sees the doubt in your pretty eyes he does something new to get your mind off it.
You're on your side with his toned chest pressed against your back as he litters your nape and shoulder with kiss, one arm under you and holding you tight while his free hand roams every inch of your burning skin.
Oliver moves his hand down between your thighs that are pressed together. "O- Oli . . ."
He can't get enough of you. He's never felt so good in his life. "All f'me," Oliver whispers by your ear. "I want you so fuck'n bad, doll."
Oliver is skilled and experienced, you know that, and you should have enough common sense to not let that bother you but it does. It means he's been with plenty of other girls before you and you hate that.
He shifts his arm under you to move his hand up to hold your face, forcing you to turn your head and look back at him. "C'mere, doll." He kisses you hungrily. Oliver actually moans when he feels how wet you are.
All for him.
"Feels so good to hold you like this." Aiku pants. "You're so good for me. My good girl."
Oliver's gaze moves down to the marks on your shoulder. There aren't enough of them. You're not covered enough. He needs to leave enough marks for the whole world to know that you belong to him.
He grabs a handful of your plush thigh. "Spread 'em."
"Oliver . . ."
"You said you'd let me, remember?" He says softly. "Remember, baby? You said you'd let me love you."
That's right . . . you did.
"Here, we'll take it slow." He's okay with waiting a few more minutes if it means he can make you more needy in the process and eventually have you beg for it. "See? Just like this."
Oliver urges you to press your thighs together again. He's sure that being buried deep inside you would feel a lot better, but he doesn't mind fucking your pretty thighs for a while. They’re so soft and feel so good around his cock, everything about you feels like paradise.
You keep rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension in your body. He's only making it worse by rubbing against you like this, you're desperate for release. "Oliver . . . please . . ."
Every time he moves forward he nudges your sensitive clit and it has your thighs shaking.
You spread your legs and Oliver is quick to take advantage of it. "This is okay, right?" He pants, struggling to restrain himself.
Even now, there's still that tiny voice inside that begs you to stop.
Oliver kisses your shoulder. "I can do it, right?"
You . . .
He needs to make you his.
You're scared.
Oliver feels it in the way you tense you slightly, but he's so close, it's practically almost done. "Hey, doll, how do you feel?" He kisses your shoulder again and stops for a moment. "It's okay, right?"
It's Oliver . . . Oliver loves you, you know that now . . .
You don't say anything. Instead, you reach your hand back to the back of his head and turn to kiss him again.
Oliver will take this as a yes.
You tense up and gasp when he pushes in. He's a lot bigger than you expected.
Oliver swears he's dying, he can't handle it now that it's finally happening. You're so warm and so tight, it feels so good.
"Y'feel so fuck'n good, doll." Oliver whispers against your lips. "So good for me, my good girl."
You can't think of anything other than the feeling of Oliver's cock deep inside you, filling you perfectly.
He moves at a slow pace, whispering sweet nothings and praising you for being so good for him. You're his perfect girl, so sweet and so beautiful and all his.
Oliver knows he has you now.
"How's it feel, doll? Feel good?"
You feel hot. "Oli . . ."
"Deep breaths for me, baby, easy now." He murmurs softly, hitting that perfect spot inside you.
"F- Feels good . . ."
Yes.
Oliver has never been happier. He finally has you and it was worth the wait.
You cry out his name and it makes Oliver's heart flutter and he practically melts against you. You're the only girl who can do this to him. Everything about you is addicting, he could never get enough of you. Now that Oliver finally gets to bury himself inside you he never wants to pull out. He wishes that he can stay like this forever.
Aiku moans against your nape at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him, as if you never him to leave.
Shit, it feels so good, he won't last.
He whispers you name breathlessly and moves at an even slower pace in favour of giving harder thrusts.
Your sweet voice bounces off the walls and in the room, the sweetest sound Aiku has ever heard.
"G'na cum f'me, yeah?" Oliver pants, so close. "Come on, doll, cum for me. Give me everything."
You belong to him, just as he belongs to you.
You're his and he is yours.
Oliver loves you so fucking much, he can hardly handle it. He needs you to live.
"I love you."
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock oliver aiku#oliver aiku#oliver aiku x reader#oliver aiku x you#oliver aiku smut
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I’m feeling a bit confrontational today (blame the back pain), can I be a little aggressive today? (Guys, if ship war and sarcastic comparisons are not your thing, please skip this! Mental health always in first place)
Ok, so let’s talk about romance!
Wanna know what’s romantic and endearing?
ACOFAS - chapter 22
A man who takes your hobbies into consideration, and let you babble about it late at night. Azriel staying up after 3AM, just to listen to Elain, to enjoy some time alone with his crush. Do we know if Azriel likes gardening at all? No, Feyre even makes a point of bringing this up. But who cares? When you’re into someone, you take interest in everything that makes this person this person.
You know what is not romantic?
ACOSF - chapter 55
Doing your job.
A coach with his trainee, in a private 1h session. A coach who by the way is a dagger master and actually prefers daggers and swords over one vs one combats. Azriel even informs where he’s going, when he’ll be back. He gave Gwyn one hour of his time. (Edit: as a fellow Elriel mentioned, it doesn’t state anywhere is private, does it?)
Imagine having this as an actual canon scene of romance for your favorite ship? Uff… no wonder people get attached to shadows dancing, glows and sparkles from the BC. I’ll probably do the same.
Okay, I’m done.
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Content warning, dark thoughts, suicide attempt
Link had always done his duty.
He'd been raised a Sheikah, immersed in his father's culture. He'd recognized that his loyalty was always to the royal family, to Hyrule, to the goddess and the good people who lived in this land. He'd been a strong warrior, had passed his trials of adulthood at the age of twelve, had proved himself worthy of the honor of being part of such a group of people.
He'd become one of their best fighters. He'd been the pride of his people. Lady Impa had always smiled when she saw him. He missed seeing her smile.
Link had always done his duty.
He'd pushed to fight in the war even when the king had insisted on hoarding his best fighters. He'd snuck out with Princess Zelda on a quest to find the Master Sword and the Hero of Hyrule that the kingdom so desperately needed. When the princess had insisted that it had to be him, having been claimed by the treasure of the Goddess Farore, he drew the blade of evil's bane and wielded it in battle. He'd slain the beast that Ganondorf had turned into, he'd destroyed Hemisi's beloved father and the one man who had slowly started to become a father figure to himself as well.
And when it had all been over, he'd listened as the queen petitioned to him, saying that the only way he could save Hyrule now was by sacrificing himself.
And Link had always done his duty.
He shouldn't be bitter. The choice was his, after all. It was for Hyrule. He was doing this for Hyrule.
Yet while he bled and died for these people, the nobles continued to try and claw for power. While he did what was expected of him, others with power and destiny on their shoulders acted selfishly. While he did his job, everyone else scrambled and pleaded and cried as if they were helpless, whining about circumstances that everyone was enduring as if others weren't suffering.
He didn't have a right to whine about any of it. He'd chosen this fate. He loved Hyrule and wanted it to heal.
So why did he have to feel so damn bitter about all of it?
He wanted to murder someone. Preferably all of the nobles. Maybe even some of the sages.
He hadn't been able to think straight since the baby shower. He'd been alone and hopeless since the wedding, honestly, but sparring had helped. Lately, though, his emptiness had started to fill with resentment, and he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to.
Link paced outside, having beaten multiple knights in sparring duels in an attempt to get his frustration out. It hadn't helped.
"Do you want to see her?"
No. No. Why would he want to see her? Why would he want a reminder of everything he'd gotten himself into, like this wasn't his fault. It was absolutely his fault, his choice, and he hated himself.
Link had always done his duty.
No, he didn't want to see his daughter. He would hate her too. And she didn't deserve that. Also, he frankly wasn't sure he could handle the sight, the confirmation of a permanent imprisonment, a lifetime consequence to his actions that he still regretted.
He couldn't regret it. He wanted to help Hyrule.
His mood darkened further, and he stormed back inside the castle, going to his room.
He wanted to scream, he wanted to be noticed, to be heard. He wanted to disappear into a corner and never be bothered again. He didn't know what he wanted.
He wanted to go back to a time where he didn't feel so empty.
He missed Hemisi. He missed her smile, her laugh, her mischievous nature, the way she brought out the lighter side in him, the way they always had adventures together. He missed her fire, her determination, her grit, her love for life. He missed her touch, the scent of the oils she put in her hair, the way she would smile at him. He missed the warm welcome from her family, the festivals and beauty of the Gerudo culture, the safety he felt when he didn't have to be on guard and on edge all the time.
He missed Lady Impa. He missed being a soldier under her command, just trying to impress her and make her proud. He missed the way she'd smile at him and look out for him, the gentle reminders to eat and sleep. He missed being noticed by her. She'd promised to support him in this marriage but she spent all her time with Zelda instead.
He missed home. He missed Kakariko, the peace of the world it inhabited, the protection offered by its people. He missed the blanket his mother had made for him, woven with intricate detail of the Hylian village she came from, the one reminder and connection he had to anything outside of his Sheikah heritage, aside from his name. He hadn't slept in his village since he was a thirteen.
He missed having friends, having connections. He missed a time where he wasn't the king consort or the Hero, a being with power and prestige who was held at arm's length or watched warily for threats. He missed being a person.
But he wasn't even that anymore, he supposed. He was a slave, and he'd put the damn shackles on himself.
Link had always done his duty.
The walls were closing in. His world spun. He was dizzy and breathless, angry and scared. Tears stung in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. This was his own damn fault. He had no one to blame but himself.
Was this what the reward was for valor and honor? Was this why everyone else was so selfish?
He didn't know. The selfish fools didn't seem much happier, he supposed, or they wouldn't be clawing for power and resources.
If there wasn't happiness in honor and there wasn't happiness in disgrace, then would he ever even feel anything aside from the emptiness that was consuming him?
Link whirled, pacing back and forth until his knees hurt. He stopped in front of a mirror, staring at it. A man he didn't even know anymore looked back. His red eyes used to stand out from the white all around them, bright and energized, but now they blended in to the bloodshot background around them. His skin was paler than it used to be, weariness and stress pulling at his face, drawing lines that shouldn't be there. His hair was dry, split ends apparent, sloppily and tightly pulled into a bun that hardly resembled the tidy Sheikah style he usually wore.
Not a really good look for a king, he supposed.
A king. He was no king. He was nothing.
Link had always done his duty.
He didn't want to anymore.
"You've done your duty, the queen has her victory kid, the kingdom's in love with it. Come back to the desert with me."
He couldn't. He knew he couldn't. The Gerudo's survival was tenuous enough; if the King of Hyrule abandoned his wife and child for the chief of the Gerudo, their destruction would be assured.
He wouldn't do that to Hemisi. And he couldn't do that to Zelda. As much as he hated her, he couldn't hurt her like that.
And why did he hate her? She'd asked him to marry her to help the kingdom. He'd agreed. It had been his choice.
But time and again, she reminded him of the shackles he'd put on himself. Time and again, she'd made him do things he didn't want to because it was for their image. But he always did it. Because it was his duty.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he just felt noticed. Maybe it wouldn't be so soul crushing if someone just recognized he was a person, not just a Hero or a King.
Link glanced to his right, noticing a dagger on his desk. It was one of the daggers he used to wield during the war. He picked it up, looking over its worn handle, remembering all the callouses he got while using it, remembering the feeling of blood soaking into his skin, the hot breath of his enemies when he'd kill them. Knives were far more personal than swords or arrows or kunai; he almost always watched his enemies die, the light fading from their eyes, when he'd use this blade.
He... missed the war.
What was wrong with him?
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The war was over. It was all over.
It was all over.
He should get some sleep. He had to do his duty.
Link had always done his duty.
He gripped the knife tightly. His hand shook.
What was duty anymore? What was he supposed to do anymore? He couldn't keep doing this.
He couldn't. He wouldn't. He was tired. He was so damn lonely. He was so damn lonely.
Link had always done his duty.
"You've done your duty."
He wanted it to be over.
"Do you want to see her?"
He was becoming a monster.
Link closed his eyes. He was a warrior. He would die a warrior. He couldn't live like this anymore.
Cold steel met his neck and ripped it apart.
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I saw you did an ideal type of girl for Mikey. Can I have the same requests for Baji and Shinichiro, please? 🥺🫶
Dark-haired guys got me on a chokehold it is not funny anymore 🥲
YES TY SM FOR REQUESTING
That’s so real, literally any Tokyo revengers character solos every anime boy there is like I’m not even joking😭( the whole Sano family got me kicking my feet like even the grandfather. I saw a fanart on when was young and I was dang😍)
But here you go love!
—————————————————————————
SHNICHIRO SANO
- everyone and their mother knows that poor Shinichiro was rejected 20 times. But they say the one finds you when you stop looking for them, and that’s what happened to Shinichiro when he found you. He gave up at that point, firmly believing that no one would love him and he’d die single. That is until a certain, girly walked in his bike shop, asking for a decent, good bike that’s fast. His heart beat up at the sight of you, you just looked so alluring and attractive. He was in a love daze as you were talking, explaining what bike you wanted.
- I think Shinichiro needs someone who is sweet and kind, and able to understand easily. As we see in the manga, he loses his patience and can be harsh when he’s in anger. He needs someone who is compassionate and willing to take any heat from him.
- of course he will try his hardest not to lash out on you when he’s angry. He’d be so sweet to you and lash out on someone else. But even that’s no good to you, like Mikey, he needs a moral compass. Someone who will teach him right from wrong.
- it’s very hard to grow up without a father figure and having to take the lead of raising 2 kids along with another raging teen, Shinichiro is an overwhelmingly stressed and needs your tender love to soothe him, you alone soothes him. The very thought of you staying by his side is comforting him in ways you don’t even know.
- He has the big brother personality engraved in him so he’s very protective of you. Headcanons include him always having his hand on you lower back, or him holding your hand, walks behind you all the time, shielding his arm around your shoulder. When you’re sitting down on a bench, he has his arm around the bench behind you with his legs crossed talking to you so close. (When men do this I always get butterflies😛)
- As in looks, he doesn’t really care what you look like either, though I imagine him as someone who prefers a girl with long hair like Kuroo does😭 he thinks long hair girls look like princesses. If you had bangs too, he’d be all over you. Kissing you as much as you let him.
-he has been through so much, just make sure to stay by his side and you’ll be his number one. He’s planning to marry you when he has everything figured out <3
—————————————————————————
BAJI KEISUKE
- Baji was voted number 1 in best lover of Tr♥️ you already know 😍😍
- Baji is fierce, hot headed and outspoken. He appears to have a strong, intimidating demeanor but under all of that, he’s respectful and loving. He treats you so well and so nicely it keeps you up at night smiling.
- he needs someone who’s a almost the opposite of him. He was always smitten by the nice, soft girls when he grew up so he needs someone who is loving and loyal. Who stays by his side even when you don’t understand his reasonings. Someone who would do crazy stuff with him like burn abandoned cars. Someone who isn’t a kill joy with these things.
- he’d adore you if you found simple things like going to a gas station late at night more just riding his bike together with you at night exciting. His eyes would be glued to your face the whole night. Noting what excites you and what makes you happy so he could do it more often. He loves seeing you happy and enjoying every moment.
- Shares everything with you. He might’ve been an only child, but his mom taught him good things that make him a gentleman. He would share his food, earphone, anything you ask.
- he needs someone who is selfless. Someone who puts others feeling before theirs.
- for looks, he doesn’t care, as long as you’re healthy, he’s satisfied💕
—————————————————————————
Ty again so much for requesting <3
Please request more of these! I find them fun!
#tokyo revengers x reader#shinichiro sano x reader#shinichiro sano#baji keisuke#baji keisuke x reader
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Fluctuates Chapter 1 - Confession
One-Shot entries for the #RadioStatic Week 2024.
Yep, I'm doing this again! I'm going to make sure that I can keep track with uploading this time. Also, I will be sticking with the Fluff path, because I need more Fluff with these two.
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Relationships: Alastor/Vox (RadioStatic)
Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lots of Fluff because I want it, Rosie will be in this, Probably other characters not sure at the moment.
“This was a stupid idea.”
Vox felt the unease that had been bubbling inside his stomach for at least a week suddenly burn stronger. The Media Demon slinked down further into the cafe’s rather uncomfortable iron chairs as he checked his watch again. He had arrived at the closest thing to a French patisserie café that Hell had to offer about 30 minutes before the scheduled meeting time. The time he had set and told the other to arrive at.
And for the past 25 of those minutes was spent looking like an idiot. Some passing sinners giving pitying looks as they passed. One even being stupid enough to try and offer comfort, believing that Vox had just been stood up.
“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”
They are now a charred mark on the pavement.
So now Vox had to contend with the fact that he looked like a love struck idiot while also fighting the nerves down.
Why did he have to pick such a public place? Sure, he knew the café was the other demon’s favorite. Run by a citizen in Cannibal town that made strong black coffee, best combination. But this could end poorly, leaving a bad taste in both of their mouths. Plus, if Vox was gaining sympathy without anything actually happening to him, what would occur once his world fell apart? Would he be left alone to suffer? Would they never speak to each other again?
His attention snapped up hearing footsteps approaching the table. Shoulders rising in embarrassment when he just saw yet another random sinner passing. Said demon actually raised her hand to greet someone behind where Vox sat. Allowing Vox the decency to slide down once more in defeat.
“Of course that’s not him. You know his habits. He’ll be right on time. Appearing out of nowhere, just to freak you out, like he always does. ‘Because you look so adorable when you’re startled’. Adorable…he called me adorable. That must mean something, right? Fuck, why is this so difficult. Am I reading too far into this? Does he have a preference? He’s never shown interest in anyone before, so why in the whole of Hell would he settle for me?”
“Goodness, you’re in deep thought there. What plan are you cooking up, old friend?”
Vox practically toppled out of the chair, startled by the sudden voice so close to him. Able to reach out to grab onto the table to stabilize himself and prevent anything hitting the ground. The chatter around them died down instantly, and not from the new arrival. Instead having all attention on the awkwardly angled Media Demon.
On his part, Vox tried to slow his breathing as his eyes flicker up to Alastor. Who offered a gentle chuckle.
“Are we a little on edge?” The Radio Demon asked, head tilting.
“Ah, kind of…” Vox replied back weakly. Screen turned a slight pink as he tried to straighten himself quickly. Missing the way Alastor turned to the unwanted audience. Face twisting dangerously as a silent warning, to which everyone understood immediately and they turned back to their business.
Once standing, Vox straightened his jacket, cleared his throat, and gestured to the empty chair across the table with a, “Care to join me?”
“Well, you did invite me. It would be rude to refuse after getting here.” Propping his cane against the small table, Alastor easily flipped the end of his coat back as he sat down. Legs crossing as he fixed the other with a curious look. “Your letter seemed very adamant about us meeting. I’m so curious over what you’re wanting to talk about.”
The worry of how stupid he looked instantly disappeared. Original nerves returning to full force. Causing Vox to temporarily forget how speaking worked. His mouth opened and closed a few times with small noises falling out. Alastor just watched on with interest. Ears flickering as his smile softened.
Finally able to collect himself to some degree, Vox practically blurted out, “How about we order something first, yeah? It’s been a while since we’ve shared a meal together.”
“I wouldn’t say it was that long, it was only a little over a week ago. But if you insist on the matter.”
Vox gave an internal cheer as he was able to avert the conversation that he asked to have a little longer. The server clearly nervous as she waited on them, more than happy to pass their orders to leave them alone as quickly as possible.
“So,” Alastor started slowly as he finished his latest bite, “now would you feel comfortable with our discussion?”
“Uh…” Vox tapped his fork against the partially clear plate as his mind scrambled to figure out what to do.
“You idiot, you ASKED HIM TO COME! If you just say it was to just share a meal, then you’re going to piss him off. Just fucking talk to him! Just…rip it off like a band aid, yeah? Just…Just do it. Get it over with… Would you fucking say something!?”
“I wanted to talk business!” Vox and those in close proximity winced as harsh feedback sound. The Media Demon wincing again seeing how upset Alastor looked. Clearing his throat, Vox started again.
“Um, what I meant to say was… We’ve known each other for a while now, yeah?”
“A few centuries at this point, I would say.”
“And we work well together, yeah?”
“I…suppose so. I don’t believe we’ve worked together that often.”
Vox pouted a bit at that. “We’ve taken down a few competitors together.”
“Oh Picture Box, I’ve taken down far more without you. However, I will admit, having you there has been not only helpful, but extremely fun. I never thought burnt sinner meat would be so fun to watch being created.”
“But you…still like working with me.”
“Of course, never doubt that.”
Letting out a small cycle of relief, Vox nodded slightly. “Okay, so, since we work so well together-”
“As you’ve stated numerous times.” Alastor added as he took another bite.
“Right, just to emphasize my point really. Wouldn’t it make sense that we team up?”
The next bite was paused half way up to Alastor’s awaiting mouth. Hovering there for a few seconds before it was slowly lowered once more. While his smile never left, Vox could tell it wasn’t as ‘cheery’ as before. Appearing a bit tight now.
“Team…up… As in partners?”
“Yeah, partners!” Vox agreed quickly, heart hammering from fear. Because Alastor was not as calm as he had been when he’d arrived. Meaning the Radio Demon apparently did not like whatever Vox was selling and he had to make this work.
“Partners, business partners I mean, not like- Anyway, doesn’t that make sense? We’re powerful, even more so when we’re together. And we represent the two biggest forms of delivering information. Radio and television! If you think downing sinners is fun now, wait until we have that edge of knowing everyone’s business! Blackmailing will be so easy, which will result in more contracts, which will result in more power! So…what do you think?”
For the bravado Vox was putting out, he was shaking. His own smile strained as tries to better gauge Alastor’s emotions. The other customers nearby seemed to know the tense atmosphere as they were leaning away from their table. Some outright fled as they threw money on the table.
On his part, Alastor seemed unmoved. Smile small as he placed his utensils down and stared off into the distance. Hands clasped together as a finger tapped on the back of the other. As the minutes passed, the more hopeless Vox felt. Wanting to say something that could save this no doubt dying relationship, but didn’t know what he could say. Even worried that uttering a single noise would result in his head being popped off.
The torturous time ended when Alastor picked his fork back up to take another bite. “Is this just a business meeting, Vox?”
Said demon was a little off put by the question, “What…do you mean? What else would I be talking about?”
“I’ve never held a possible business meeting at a café before. Even more so, not one that’s my favorite.”
“Maybe…I wanted you to feel more welcomed to the idea?” Even Vox knew that was a stupid excuse. One that Alastor did not take.
“You’re also nervous in the wrong way.”
“There’s a right way to be nervous?”
“I’ve had offers before this,” Alastor continued, “Those individuals weren’t nervous, they were cocky. They held the same reasoning and logic as you brought up as to why I should join them. But they only became nervous when I said no. And then began to tear them and their workers apart. Still, nerves were not present on the forefront of the matter. You, however, have been a nervous wreck from before I even sat down.”
“Well…I’m probably a smaller business owner than those previous to me.”
“Do you think I would hurt you?”
“No… Yes? I-I can never tell with you, if I’m honest.”
“Nothing to be ashamed about. I do have that air of mystery about me. Will I kill you psychologically? Will I actually kill you? Who knows. But if I can calm your possible fears about that. No, I would never kill you.”
Vox’s heart skipped a beat in happiness. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that. So, if I’m going to be honest with you, why don’t you be honest with me? What’s the purpose of this little meeting Vox?”
Knowing he’d beck talked into a corner, the slouched position returned. Vox uncomfortably aware they were the center of attention still. Nervously clawing at the tabletop, he whispered out, “Are you…interested in going steady?”
“Pardon? I couldn’t quite hear you.” Alastor said with his full smile back, chin resting on his hand.
“Do you want to- Would you be interested in dating?”
Whelp, Vox really wanted to throw up at this point. Unable to look up as he awaited for some kind of answer. Maybe if he’s killed, he’ll be taken out fast enough to be out of this situation. Even be given a chance to reform in a quiet area so he could lick his wounds in a different way alone.
“I suppose if I were able to give anyone a chance, it should be you.”
Vox’s head snapped up at that. Wide eyes narrowed in on Alastor, who looked so at ease for what they were talking about. “Wait- really? You…You really want to… Really? But you’ve never shown interest in anything romantic to anyone, ever.”
“Because that would mean I found them interesting, and I don’t. Unlike you. You can hold my attention for hours, and I’ve not held that for another soul in years. If you’re wanting to pursue something of a relationship, then I’m more than happy to try.”
“Um, yes, please! That would be great!” Nerves were now replaced with giddiness to the point where Vox was worried he’d be shorting out soon. Something that Alastor caught on to very quickly.
“Try and breathe, my Picture Box, you’re going to make yourself faint.” Reaching over, Alastor gently took one of Vox’s hands.
Instead of helping, Vox’s head jerked to the side before the screen flickered and turned dark. Alastor was quick to react with his shadow double popping up to keep the other demon in the chair.
Laughing softly, Alastor turned to one of the cowering patrons. “He’s going to be the next Overlord. Such a charmer, this one.”
#s-creations#fanfiction#alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#vox#voxal#alastor x vox#radiostatic#radiostatic week 2024
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I'll find you at the end of the road - Chap 8/8 - Complete
Chapter summary - As long as hope remains
Sometimes you just have to wait for the dots to connect...
On Ao3
Rating G - 3929 words
Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5 - Chap 6 - Chap 7 - Last chapter
Months and seasons passed.
Aziraphale moved out of the lake house and into his old apartment above the store. After the death of HH's CEO, Muriel was no longer interested in staying there, and Aziraphale offered them a sales position in his shop. He preferred restoring and tinkering with his old pieces, and Muriel was good at selling. Aziraphale wasn't a tyrannical boss, and thanks to Muriel, the shop now had regular opening hours without restricting the antiquarian's freedom.
Arthur had remained friends with Aziraphale and was now also Muriel's friend, and more than once they'd come to end the day with coffee at Nina's after picking up Maggie from her shop.
However, all of Aziraphale's friends could see that the antiquarian's gaze sometimes seemed lost. His face wore a melancholy expression. But he never said anything, just smiled, and they pretended they hadn't seen anything, just pampering him a little more than usual.
On New Year's Eve, they partied together, and when the fireworks went off to celebrate 2024, Aziraphale couldn't help but think with nostalgia of other fireworks, wondering what Crowley was doing, where, and with whom.
A.Z. Fell, M & Co - January 2024
It was already late and Aziraphale was hunched over his drawing table, looking concentrated, when Muriel poked their head through the door.
They said softly, "Aziraphale, I'm leaving now. I've locked everything, so all you have to do is close the front door and draw the blinds."
Aziraphale, concentrating on what he was doing, replied with a hum.
Muriel, seeing that he wasn't listening, approached and looked over Aziraphale's shoulder to see what he was working on.
"A new project?"
Aziraphale looked up and replied, a little embarrassed, "Oh. No. It's just... a personal thing. "
Muriel shifted to get a better look at Aziraphale's work, but the antiquarian tried to hide it.
His friend insisted and asked coaxingly, "Aziraphale, let me see."
"No, it's nothing."
"Come on. Please."
Aziraphale relented and removed his hands from his work surface. Muriel leaned over and gasped as their eyes widened.
It was the lake house, but reimagined.
There was a patio at the back and a staircase leading down to the water - the stairs Aziraphale had described to Crowley. There were trees planted along the path and lights shining in the trees. The house was just as extraordinary as before, but much less austere, much warmer, almost romantic, transcended by the changes.
Muriel said quietly, "I like it. "
Aziraphale asked, somewhat anxiously, "You really like it?"
Muriel nodded enthusiastically and replied, "Before, it looked like a place you'd go to be alone. Now I can imagine taking someone there, a family, friends. I can almost envision happiness there."
Aziraphale nodded, his eyes glistening slightly.
Muriel looked at him with piercing eyes and asked softly, "Who is it?"
Aziraphale replied without hesitation, "Crowley. His name was Crowley."
"When you lived there?"
Aziraphale nodded and Muriel continued, "I knew there was something or rather someone there. What happened? "
The antique dealer replied simply, "I lost him."
"How?"
Aziraphale replied in a hesitant voice, "It's hard to explain. It's mostly... it was... bad timing."
"Do you miss him?"
Aziraphale couldn't deny it and answered with emotion, "Every day."
"Make him come back. "
Aziraphale ran a hand over his face before answering, "It's too late. Or too soon...Impossible."
"What?"
Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "Nothing. It's all so complicated. I don't even know where he is. And even if I did, I couldn't go up to him and say, 'Hey, I'm here, let's pick up where we left off.'"
Muriel asked him challengingly, "What do you have to lose?"
Aziraphale didn't answer, then resumed his drawing. Muriel, knowing when not to insist, looked at him with concern, sighed, and left.
January 2026
Crowley was still living in the same place, and the tree had continued to grow in front of the building. He spent a lot of time with Eric, who had apparently decided to take him under his wing.
He was still single, but he had a friend, friends even, he could count on, and if sometimes one or the other tried to encourage him to date, they never insisted too much when he refused.
He devoted his life to his classes, the students liked him a lot, and Pepper who kept coming to see him after class had brought other members of the gang with her, and discussions around astronomy had turned into a science club. At least the Them were under supervision for their little experiments.
Crowley's apartment - Early February 2026
Crowley had decided to clean up, because in two years he had started to accumulate things, and it was time to sort them out.
He was organizing his clothes when he came across the outfit he hadn't worn since the missed date. His throat tightened as he was about to toss it into the discard pile, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and tucked it away in the back of the closet.
Later, while vacuuming, he noticed a squeaky floorboard. He bent down to examine it and found that it was easy to lift.
Crowley pulled back the plank and to his surprise, there was an empty space underneath. He bent down further to examine it. Seeing that there was something there, he reached in and pulled out a package wrapped in a dusty plastic bag.
He opened it and his heart leapt; it was his copy of Persuasion.
One page was marked with a rose, now dried and withered by time. He opened it to the marked page and saw that a sentence had been underlined.
“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever.”
He stared at the words, stunned.
Rainbow Academy - February 13, 2026
Eric and Crowley, their classes finished, were about to leave the school and walked down the hallways together.
When they reached the entrance hall, Crowley gasped and looked around in amazement and exclaimed, "Ohhh this is beautiful! All these old tools. So well kept."
On display in the hall were ancient telescopes, astrolabes, and sundials, all in perfect condition despite their obvious age.
Eric replied proudly, "Yes, this is my partner, Muriel, they run the antique shop, A. Z. Fell & Co. They had a lot of stuff like this and came up with the idea. It gives the shop some publicity and it looks cool, right?"
"A. Z. Fell & Co?"
"Yes! In fact, since they started working there, the name has become A. Z. Fell, M. & Co. M for Muriel. Great, right?"
Crowley squeezed Eric's arm and asked, "Can you take me there? I'd like to see the place."
Eric nodded and replied, "I have plans tonight, but how about tomorrow morning, before school, since we both start after 10?"
Crowley replied, "That works for me."
Maybe he still had a chance.
A.Z. Fell, M. and Co - February 14, 2024
Muriel and Aziraphale stepped out in their winter coats, but found the weather surprisingly warm.
Aziraphale growled, "Honestly, what the hell?"
Muriel shrugged as they replied, "Global warming.
Aziraphale asked, "Would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight? We can invite the others."
Muriel replied with a happy expression, "I can't. I have a date tonight, it's Valentine's Day and some of us have..."
She paused, realizing the cruelty of what she was about to say, when Aziraphale stopped abruptly.
He exclaimed, "What?"
"What, is it so weird that I have a date on Valentine's Day?"
Aziraphale looked around.
The day was really warm. People everywhere were enjoying the sun.
He turned to Muriel with a strange look on his face.
He asked, "What day is it?"
Muriel looked at him in confusion, "Valentine's Day, I told you, so it's February 14."
Aziraphale repeated, "February 14, 2024."
"Yeah. What's wrong with you? You're weird, you know?"
Aziraphale, his eyes pensive, replied, "He told me about today. I remember the date."
"Who? You mean that guy? That guy? Your..."
Aziraphale excitedly replied, "Yes! There's a letter saying where he'll be!"
Muriel, understanding less and less, asked, "Did he write to you?"
Aziraphale nodded quickly, "Yes. I can see him today. You told me the other day...what have I got to lose?"
Muriel pushed him forward and said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, you idiot!"
"I just need to find the letter!"
Aziraphale ran back to his apartment above the shop and rummaged through his old boxes until he remembered that Crowley's letters were still in the lake house, in the attic. He grabbed the spare keys to the lake house and ran to the Beetle at top speed.
A.Z. Fell, M & Co. - February 14, 2026
"Hi Muriel!"
"Eric, you didn't tell me you were coming to see me at the boutique."
Eric said sheepishly, "I forgot to tell you that I had a friend and colleague Crowley who asked if he could see the shop."
He pushed himself forward and Muriel watched as Eric's friend entered the store.
"Hello Crowley, nice to meet you..."
But Muriel saw that the man looked frozen, staring at a point behind them.
They turned and their eyes fell on the sketch Aziraphale had made of the lake house with the changes. Framed and hanging on the wall.
Eric's friend murmured, "Who drew this?"
Muriel, looking surprised, replied, clearing their throat, tight as always when they thought of Aziraphale, "It's a friend, Az..... Aziraphale."
Crowley repeated, heart pounding, "Aziraphale... it's him."
Muriel replied in surprise, "Yes. Do you... do you know him? "
Crowley nodded, "Yes. He... where is he? Is he here? Is he working here today?"
Muriel suddenly looked very sad and said quietly, "I'm sorry. Don't you know?"
"What?"
Muriel replied emotionally, "He died. Two years ago."
She swallowed before continuing, "Two years ago today, to be exact. Around noon, there was a bus accident in the city..."
Crowley, shocked, asked urgently, "Where in the city?"
Seconds later, Crowley was getting into his car as the rain began to fall, Eric behind him, confused, calling out, "Crowley! Wait up! What's going on?"
When he started, Crowley told him, "It's an emergency! I don't have time!"
Eric simply asked, "Is it?"
Crowley, buckling his seat belt, replied, "Yes!"
Then, just as he was about to slam the car door, he heard his friend yell, "Go Crowley! Get him!"
Crowley drove out of town toward home, rain beating on his windshield. He weaved between lanes, passing cars, driving
Lake House - February 14, 2024
Aziraphale stopped in front of the lake house. It was locked and apparently empty. He ran across the path and unlocked the front door.
Lake House - February 14, 2026 at the same time
Crowley arrived home and slid to a stop in the rain in front of the mailbox. He pulled out a notepad and began writing frantically.
Lake House - February 14, 2024 at the same time
Aziraphale hurried to the attic.
Inside was the only box he'd left there when he moved out. He opened the box and searched feverishly. He found Crowley's bundle of letters. After a few moments, he found the one he was looking for and read it.
Last February, I remember it was Valentine's Day, but it was really hot for a February day.
I was sitting on a bench at noon in Saint James Park, near the intersection of Spur Road and Birdcage Walk.
He read aloud, “Saint James Park, just off the intersection of Spur Road and Birdcage Walk.”
Lake House - February 14, 2026 at the same time
Crowley finished writing the note and stepped out of the car, unaffected by the rain, and with shaking hands placed the note in the box before raising the flag.
He stayed there and fell to his knees in front of the box, drenched from the rain, staring anxiously at the flag.
Lake House - February 14, 2024 at the same time
Aziraphale jumped into his car and sped away from the house.
Saint James Park - February 14, 2024 - Noon
Aziraphale found a parking spot and parked the Beetle. He got out and ran up Birdcage Walk along Saint James Park.
In his hand he held a piece of paper, the words of which echoed in his head.
My dear Aziraphale.
I know now... it was you near the park that day.
It was you at the crossroads.
Please don't go there.
Something terrible will happen if you go there.
Aziraphale continued running toward the location indicated in the letter before stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, separated from the park by a busy street. He looked away, searching for Crowley beyond the noisy traffic, among the crowds in the park.
Please don't look for me.
Finally he saw him, a distant silhouette, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun. His unmistakable red hair caught the sunlight. Aziraphale smiled.
Don't try to meet me. Not right now.
They are now separated only by distance. No longer by time.
Don't run to me.
The traffic eased for a moment and Aziraphale could clearly see Crowley, straight ahead.
Do you understand? I beg you, please. You must wait.
Aziraphale stepped off the sidewalk to get closer to Crowley.
Forget everything I said before.
We both have to wait.
Not just you.
Both of us.
If you love me and if I love you.
Not if I love you, because I'm sure I do, I love you, it took me so long to say it, but I really do.
So if you love me too, wait for me.
Aziraphale saw Crowley straighten up and turn his head toward him, as if drawn in his direction. Even from a distance, Aziraphale could see his worried expression.
Wait for me.
Wait until time catches up with us and we can be together. Please wait. Just... wait.
Lake House - February 14, 2026
Crowley soaked, is in tears at the foot of the mailbox and whispers over and over, “Wait, wait. Don't go there. Please, please.”
The rain continued to fall.
Crowley, finally, having lost all hope of seeing the flag move, tried to pull himself together and began, very slowly, to stand.
He looked at the box and was startled, the flag had come down.
Hands trembling, he didn't dare open the flap.
He took several breaths, and when he finally had the courage, he opened the box and saw that his letter had disappeared.
Saint James Park - February 14, 2024 - Noon
Aziraphale stood in the street, trying to see a little more of Crowley, and at the last second he backed up to the sidewalk. He kept looking at Crowley, desperately wanting to run to him, but he didn't; he folded the letter, put it in his pocket, and reluctantly turned and walked away.
Safe and sound.
Lake House - February 14, 2026
Crowley stared at the empty mailbox, his face soaked with tears and rain.
Suddenly, a hand came gently up from behind him and slowly closed the mailbox.
Crowley gasped and turned slowly.
Aziraphale was standing silently in front of him, staring at him, holding in his hand the letter that Crowley had just put in the mailbox. Crumpled and worn, as if it had been read over and over again.
Crowley stared at him for a moment, trying to convince himself that this was all real. Then Aziraphale took a step toward him and smiled shyly before asking softly, "Have we waited long enough?"
Crowley, still in shock, his eyes filling with tears, murmured, "Yes...yes."
Aziraphale came even closer, smiling more openly this time, bringing his hand to Crowley's face and wiping away a tear with his thumb. Crowley leaned his cheek into his palm, closed his eyes, and murmured again, "Yes, we've waited long enough.
Then, finally, they wrapped their arms around each other, holding each other again and again, letting the embrace linger, pulling away to look at each other, making sure it was real, and embracing again.
Making sure they were both real, there and alive.
After a few moments, Crowley pulled away and, taking Aziraphale's face, now as drenched as his own, between his hands, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the other man's.
For long minutes, they parted only to catch their breath before kissing again, over and over, indifferent to the rain that continued to pour down on them.
Much later, when they parted again to catch their breath, Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in his to lead him home.
Crowley gasped as he looked at the lake house.
The lake house had changed.
In the two years of Aziraphale's life, the life Crowley had saved, Aziraphale had transformed it.
He'd brought to life the project he'd shown Muriel two years ago, with the patio and the stairs to the water they'd talked about, and the trees planted along the path, lit and shimmering in the rain.
Crowley laughed in amazement and turned to Aziraphale, pulling him close and kissing him again.
Then they walked along the path together, stopping often to touch and kiss.
As they passed the door, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's sleeve and said, "Wait."
Aziraphale turned and replied in a falsely pouty tone, "Haven't I waited long enough?"
Crowley grabbed his hand, intertwined his fingers with Aziraphale's, and said softly, "I don't want to wait to tell you for real this time. With my voice. My eyes in yours."
He paused and, with a trembling smile and shining eyes, said to him, "I love you."
Aziraphale, his voice hoarse, immediately replied, "I love you."
They held each other again, enjoying the bliss of hearing those words from the beloved voice for the first time.
Then they entered their home, ready to begin a new life where all was yet to be discovered.
Together.
The lake house - Summer 2027
"Arry! Arry!"
"Joel! Take it easy, sweetie, and wait for your little sister!"
Bill and Frank followed their children a little farther behind, hand in hand, then watched fondly as they gave gentle caresses to a Harry who seemed to enjoy it.
"Joel, Ellie, stop spoiling Harry, he's going to keep coming to us for petting."
The two children stood up and grabbed the legs of the man who had just spoken.
"Uncle Zira!"
He lifted them both up, carrying each of them in one arm.
"Harry gets petted and I don't get a hello kiss?"
Each of the two children placed a sound kiss on Aziraphale's cheeks at the same time.
"Should I be jealous?" came a voice from behind Aziraphale.
"Uncle Crowley!"
Ellie was already reaching for Crowley, who didn't hesitate to take her in his arms. The little girl gave him a big kiss on the cheek and squirmed for him to put her back down.
Crowley and Aziraphale, side by side, greeted Frank and Bill.
"Bill, Frank, welcome!"
They all hugged and then walked together to the patio overlooking the lake.
As Frank sat down in one of the garden chairs, he said with amazement, "I may have been here many times before, but I'll never get tired of this view."
Aziraphale motioned for Bill to sit next to Frank before sitting down himself.
Crowley was about to sit on the arm of Aziraphale's chair when he heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up to the house; Aziraphale started to get up, but Crowley motioned for him to remain seated. "Stay seated, angel, I'll go."
He walked down the path toward the oncoming cars.
Eric was the first to move toward him, "Crowley!" before embracing him. Crowley was now used to his friend's outpouring of affection and allowed himself to be patted on the back.
They were soon joined by Newt, Anathema, and Mrs. Tracy, and all followed Crowley into the house. When they reached the patio, everyone greeted each other and sat around the table chatting happily. Joel was in awe of Mrs. Tracy's red curls, and Ellie laughed out loud as Eric bounced her in his arms.
"Is this the way to the little party?"
Heads turned to the source of the voice as Aziraphale exclaimed, "Muriel! I thought they lost you on the way."
Muriel laughed slightly and replied, "Arthur, Maggie and Nina got lost, so I had to direct them by phone. Where do I put this?"
They pointed to the cake in their hands.
"I'll take it," Aziraphale replied.
He went with the cake to the kitchen, where he was suddenly overcome with emotion. He waited a moment to compose himself before returning to the patio.
"Hey, angel, what are you doing out here all alone?"
Aziraphale looked up and smiled, murmuring, "Crowley."
Crowley, who after more than a year had learned to decipher his husband's expressions, noticed his emotional state and gently asked, "Hey, what's wrong with you?"
Aziraphale wanted to speak, but the emotion was too strong, so Crowley wrapped his arms around him and held him close until his husband was ready to speak.
After a few moments, Aziraphale stepped aside, a trembling smile under the tears, "I'm sorry, I don't know, I'm not sad, not at all, on the contrary, but I suddenly had this irrepressible urge to cry."
Crowley nodded in understanding and brushed Aziraphale's hair back before saying softly, "Just too much emotion, perhaps? What were you thinking?"
"I... I was putting the cake on the table and I thought, if I hadn't read your letter, none of this would be real. I wouldn't be here. There wouldn't be all these people on our patio. And it freaked me out for a moment to realize that we could have almost lost everything."
Crowley, visibly moved as well, pressed a tender kiss to d'Aziraphale's mouth, and when he pulled away, Aziraphale continued, "But on the contrary, you, or rather we, gained everything. You saved me, you gave me a new life, and in doing so, you gave us all a different and better life."
Crowley nodded, planted a light kiss on his husband's lips, then stepped aside to take Aziraphale's hand and lead him out onto the patio, a tender smile on his lips.
"Come on, let's party!"
As Aziraphale was pulled along and they crossed the living room, his eyes fell on his mother's book. His first family. His mother and father. Then his eyes slid to Crowley beside him, and by extension, everyone else on the patio. His new family. Their new family. Not by blood, but by heart.
All because Crowley had sent a little letter one day.
Dear new tenant.
Hello and welcome to your new home and congratulations, blah blah blah. You've made an excellent choice, Ditchling is a wonderful place and this house is a gem, as you may have noticed.
I'm sure you're going to love living here as much as I have.
Crowley did not know that day that these words would be so prescient, even though they came from the future and were addressed to someone in the past.
Oh yes, Aziraphale loved living here, but not because of the house.
He loved living here because of the love that filled it.
Because of Crowley.
“There could have never been two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved."
Persuasion - Jane Austen.
_________
I hope you enjoyed the ride.
I will probably come back to them in this universe, as always in form of oneshots.
Thank you for having followed, liked and commented on this story! <3
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here
#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable boyfriends#aziraphale#crowley#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#human au#alternate universe
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𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u
Part: 2
/ Click here to read the first part!
Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader
Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, heartless Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, mention of sex, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch
Word Count: 2031
A/N: English is not my first language.
After your argument with Ben about Countess Noir and your relationship, which occurred a month ago, he hardly spoke to you at all. He never looked you in the eye, either. You were never even certain if his love existed in the first place, but it was clear that the thing between you and Ben had been extinguished forever, even though he hadn't formally ended your relationship with words.
You considered leaving Payback behind, but you found it difficult to distance yourself from Ben, which bothered and despised you about yourself. You were terrified that Ben would harm Earving, in addition to the possibility that he wouldn't mind you leaving the squad. After all, he was your sole friend, and Ben's attitude towards him was cruel and rough. He was merciless to everyone except for Countess.
You denied producing movies, TV shows, or signing days since it was too much to bear to watch Crimson and Ben together, participate in commercials, and be the star of movies in front of your eyes. You just stopped showing up with the squad day by day. Nonetheless, when the rumors surfaced that you would soon leave the group, you were forced to sit with Ben and listen to him while he talked absolute bullshit to the cameras.
When the reporter asked you a question, you were so deep in confusion that you couldn't even begin to count how many times you were asked the same question. You were deep in thought when the reporter asked the same question.
“I'm sorry,” You apologized, giving the TV reporter a feeble smile. “I couldn't catch you.” You were irritated by the number of times you were given the same questions over and over again.
You felt that all you wanted to do was shout and punch everybody who spoke to you and asked you pointless questions about Ben and Crimson, as if it were your responsibility to speak and you were their spokesperson regarding their romance or something. All they saw was a façade of lies; if only someone could see through you and realize that you were drowning in all of them.
He kept talking about the rumors, and you felt like you were about to go crazy in front of the camera and kill someone. At that point, the pressure you were under became too much for you to handle. You ignored all the sounds around you and repressed your tears as you inhaled deeply.
“Look, you know, I have things to do. I apologize if I sound impolite, but it would be preferable if you directed those questions to Crimson and Soldier Boy. After all, it's their life to tell, not mine.”
When you attempted to back away to ask another question, the unsettlingly inquisitive man grabbed your arm. God alone knew how much you wanted to break those arms at that very moment and make him eat his own flesh.
Disregarding your previous statement, he uttered, “Y/N, please inform us. Are they really getting married soon? Don't you think it would be fantastic if the strongest supe woman and strongest supe man got married? A formidable duo! Power Couple! The American public is curious about that.”
He was babbling nonsensically and was clearly trying to get you to kill him. Even though you weren't saying a damn thing, he continued talking about them, and you inhaled deeply and waited for him to finish. When he identified Countess as the strongest female supe, you gave him a little smile.
You replied coolly, “I really don't know about their next move. But allow me to ask you a question. Have you witnessed her battling me?”
You stared him in the eyes when you posed the question, as though it were the most important one ever. The way you changed your attitude startled him.
“Well, no,” he said with a confused look on his face.
“Then what makes you believe that she is the world's strongest supe woman?” You continued to smile at him and continued, “Let's just say I'm curious.”
Crimson wouldn't have a chance against you; you knew it. Ben also knew that. However, you felt unimportant and left her aside each passing day because of the way she was seen as the strongest female supe. You were aware that Ben was assisting her in completing the objectives assigned to her—unlike you, she was never able to complete any of them successfully. She just appeared to be powerful and tough because she was with Ben, not because she was really something.
You were aware that her sole concerns were money and reputation, and neither Ben nor the squad mattered to her. A woman could always see right through another woman.
You suddenly burst out laughing when he opened his mouth. Saying, “Hey, I'm just kidding; relax,” you interrupted him before he could say anything more foolish. “But I really have things to do, okay? Glad to meet you. Have a nice day.”
Fuck, you turned into the biggest liar in a single month because of Ben.
Earving saw you had at last escaped the incessant inquiries and the obnoxious reporter, so he followed you to the van. He was also taking a vacation from marketing his latest film. After taking off his mask long enough to sip his, he handed you a soda.
“Hey, what's the deal? You know, you seem anxious these days.” He ate his hamburger quickly and remarked, “I heard the conversation between you and this idiot man. Fuck him; they are so fucking irritating sometimes, it’s hard to stop myself from breaking their necks.”
You took a big sip of your soda and gave him a nod. It was nice to have small talk with Earving, considering he was the only kind and smart person left in the squad after all.
“Yeah,” you said while Ben and Countess got out of their special trailer, and you watched them with a heavy heart when Ben gave her quick and playful kisses.
It was Ben's blindness and his intense care for her that pained you, and it was his seeming blitheness and comfort around her that made you hurt. It was obvious to you that she was lying and tricking him. Witnessing Ben give her everything he didn’t bother to give you wounded you. They had a really open connection, even if there was still some space between you when you were dating.
You were concealed by him like a rat in the shadows, unlike her.
The countess never once left his side, not even for a moment. You were frantically trying to find a moment to speak with Ben once again. If you had been alone with him, you would have succeeded in discovering the cause of his sudden and dramatic change.
“Earving,” you said like a whisper. “Can you distract Countess for tonight?” You turned to him with pleading eyes.
“Why?” he asked as he ate his third hamburger.
“Can you just do it?” You huffed as you kept watching Ben from afar.
“Fine,” he said with his full mouth, spitting the tomatoes. “You fucking stress me out since you’ve started to act like Soldier Boy.”
“Don’t insult me,” you said as you chuckled, punching him softly and stealing his last hamburger.
When Earving managed to divert Countess, it was midnight, and you saw them vanish out of sight. When you saw Ben pull into his own trailer, your heart began to race, and you quickly followed him. You made a self-promise to try it one final time. After all, you were doing this for one another, and when it came to love, pride had no place.
When you entered the trailer, you locked the door immediately, leaned your back against the door, and your hands stilled on the handle as if he would escape any moment. It was dim inside.
You heard him inhaling deeply before he turned his back to you and gave you a look like you were an insect that simply refused to leave the house in the summertime. Though you were close to him physically, the distance between you and his coldness toward you was visible.
He gave you a stern look and maintained his distance from you, asking in a harsh voice, “Why the fuck are you here again? Are you going to start spreading gossip about us?”
You just answered, “No,” disregarding his sour tone and remarks. “Ben, all I want to do is talk.”
“I fucking have things to do; cut it short.”
He was leaning back against the drug- and alcohol-filled table. Though it was obvious that he was getting worse every day, he was unable to recognize his condition.
“Why did you change so suddenly? Did I do something wrong?” Not wanting to come across as hostile and cause him to harm you verbally once more, you asked in a quiet voice. “I just need a simple explanation.”
You continued to stare at him with wet eyes, and he sighed and gave you his signature grin.
“Just admit your pussy missed me; that’s why you are so desperate, so I can give you a good and quick fuck,” he said, giving you a playful look.
Aware that he was only attempting to divert the conversation or embarrass you, you remained silent and paid no attention to the garbage that was pouring out of his mouth.
“Why, Ben?”
“Why do you act like a fucking obsessive woman? Do you need an explanation? Fine, listen to me carefully, then: I can do whatever I want. Is that good enough for you? ”
With a heavy heart, your hands on the door handle tightened. Ignoring his harsh words, your jaw clenched, and you shook your head in denial.
“Why did you act like you loved me and cared about me then?”
“What love? Fuck, I don’t even like you,” he snapped out of nowhere, irritated by the choice of your words. “We just passed some time and fucked, that’s all. Don’t be a bitch about it; you’ll get over it,” he said, giving you a wink.
He sounded so different and cold that it was hard to believe he was the same man with whom you fell in love so deeply months ago. It was like someone else possessed his body and turned him against you in a day.
“Why do you even look at me with such hatred?” you asked, ignoring how much his words pained your heart. Your voice cracked, not knowing how to handle the situation or his unbalanced behavior anymore.
“Fuck!” he screamed at you, finally losing his temper and making a move to approach while you still leaned your back against the door. “You know what? I’m going to marry her.”
You loosened your hand around the doorknob and cupped his face without hesitation, knowing he would do it just to make sure you suffered.
“I swear I’ll walk away the day you marry her, Ben,” you said with a desperate voice, hoping it would mean something to him. “I’ll leave Payback.”
“Fuck you will,” he clenched his jaw, pushing your back against the door. “I fucking swear, the day you leave will be the day of Noir‘s death. No, I’ll make sure to make him even worse.”
“What kind of monster have you turned into?” You whispered and pushed him off of you.
“Yet you told me you loved me,” he said, giving you an unsincere smile.
“I do love you, Ben, and that’s the last time you hear this from me.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
A/N: I was very surprised to see that you wanted another part for this so-called one shot story. Your comments made me very happy. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! You can also check masterlist for another multi-chapter Soldier Boy / Reader story called "Protect Me From What I Want" Thank you for reading this. <33
Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl
Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series!
#the boys#jensen ackles soldier boy#the boys tv#the boys season 3#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy#jensen ackles#the boys series#soldier boy the boys#the boys amazon#heavy angst#angst#hurt#hurtful#soldier boy fic#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy x female reader#the boys soldier boy#the boys season 4
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Hide and Seek - Colby Brock X Fem!Reader - Part 1
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary: You join Sam, Colby, and The Boys on an investigation of Geelong Gaol in Australia. After the intro of the video, Sam and Colby set up their first 'challenge' of the night - Hide and Seek! What happens when Colby finds you first?
Info: I did write a few parts that happened in the video (especially the beginning). Hopefully it's not a spoiler to anyone who hasn't watched the latest upload!
Warnings: Dark rooms, cussing, some spicy interactions with Colby😉(will be in part 2)
____________________________________________________________
While you weren't new to ghost hunting and investigating haunted locations, you had never been to a haunted prison like Geelong Gaol. With an estimated 500+ deaths on the grounds, it was no wonder that there would be activity in the once active cells and hallways. Although you were joined by more people than usual there was still an uneasy feeling in your gut.
Before going on tour with the guides and learning more about the history everyone met in the main hallway. For the introduction you and Colby followed Sam around the corner while Juicy, Narrator, Mully, Eddie, and Josh stayed by the stairs.
"Not only did we bring (y/n) to Australia with us..." Sam pointed the camera towards you as the three of you walked back down the hall. You smiled and waved quickly before Sam turned back towards the corridor.
"We are also here with The Boys!" You watched as the group leaned in close to one another and shouted in excitement. Despite being in such a creepy location everyone was hyped up and happy to be together. Seeing how everyone interacted and got along was comforting at least.
Sam pointed out that everyone (including you) were wearing black while he was in a bright orange jumper. After a few more minutes of talking and plugging the merch, Colby took the camera from Sam. Sam got a little more serious and turned towards the bigger group.
"Alright, who's the believer of the group?" Sam inquired towards the five men.
Eddie chimed in first. "I started off as a nonbeliever and I'm the biggest bitch in the whole group."
You couldn't help but laugh and nod to yourself. There were definitely times that you would have preferred to bounce from a location when things got serious. But in all honesty, who didn't have moments like that?
"I am very skeptical," Mully started. "But I also leave places being like 'How do we explain this?'"
So far Mully has definitely been the type to be spooked by any clear evidence. He also has a habit of telling things to 'f*ck off' when it's getting too real. You can't really blame him, though. It's still hard to believe some of the things you've experienced through the years.
"Before we get into any of the history, we do have a little challenge for you guys." Upon hearing this you glance over at Colby curiously, having not heard of this prior.
"So we're all gonna split up."
"Already?" Mully's voice pitches a little higher than normal.
"Before we know anything, everyone needs to isolate themselves and we are gonna play hide and seek."
Excuse me? I did not sign up for this. You exchange glances with Juicy and Narrator. They can also tell you didn't know about this. In spite of the new information Mully and Eddie started cracking jokes. However you weren't entirely confident with running around in such an unfamiliar place.
Sam continues to explain the challenge. "Winner of hide and seek gets to choose one person to do the first investigation in solitary confinement." The Boys groan and you can't help but agree with them. If I can't win, I hope the winner doesn't choose me to investigate alone.
"(Y/n) you can either do rock, paper, scissors to be a seeker or you can opt out to be someone that hides," Colby says, noticing how tense you seemed. You should honestly be used to challenges like these by now.
"I'll just hide so one of you two have to find me."
You see Colby smirk a little before turning back to Sam to see who would be seeking. As far as you knew, Colby always lost when they did rock, paper, scissors. But you noticed the glint in his eye and wondered if his losing streak would continue.
Initially Colby had won, meaning Sam would be seeker. However, he decided he wanted to try again to see if Colby would lose. Lo and behold, Colby lost again and was now designated seeker. Your heart raced a little at the thought of hiding alone in the dark and you kind of hoped to lose quickly. Losing the game was better than being alone for more than a few minutes.
As soon as everyone had their own cameras it was time to split up. Everyone started running to find the best hiding spot, including you. Eddie and Juicy seem to be shaking hands as you run past them and some of the display cases. You duck into a small room not far from them and crouch behind the door.
"Everyone ran ahead of me," You whisper to the camera. "If I'm lucky, Colby will just run past to investigate the cells." You glance around the small room at some text but decide that reading isn't a good idea right now. You decide to zoom in with the camera in case it's needed for the footage.
"Who's gonna be fucking found first?!" Colby's voice echoes around the building, causing you to cover your mouth and turn the camera back to you. You stifle a laugh as you hear Colby walking around, being a goofball. Honestly you wouldn't mind being found first but obviously you weren't going to give up that easily.
Listening intently you hear Colby getting closer, saying he heard laughter. You realize that he must have heard you laughing. You look into the camera with wide eyes and think about holding your breath. Somehow you just feel giddy and excited about playing this game, almost forgetting that you're in Geelong Gaol.
Too scared to talk and expose your hiding spot you put a finger to your lips and shake your head. There's no way I'm going to make it that easy on him.
It's almost impossible to not laugh as you hear Colby begin sniffing around audibly like a dog sniffing a trail. Luckily you hardly ever wear perfume so he wouldn't be able to actually 'sniff you out.'
The camera in your hand is still focused on you. You hold your breath as you hear his footsteps inching closer and closer.
______________________________________________________________
Aaaaand, that's part 1! I wanted to break it up because it was getting a little long. Let me know how it is so far!
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[shopping]
Tendou, checking a clothes tag: ...slacks?
Semi: it's those fancy pants
Tendou: fancy pants...
Semi, adding: easy-going
Tendou: easy-going fancy pants?
Semi *nods*
Tendou: ok
#semi eita#tendou satori#tensemi#i like to think that they go shopping together#despite having completely opposite styles#they prefer going with someone over going alone#its the act of holding up a shirt and going ‘oi semisemi i think you'll like this 'cause i don't’ and semi is pissed because he Does#yea just tensemi shopping for clothes together#hq!! incorrect quotes#hq#scraps of words#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#incorrect haikyuu quotes#haikyuu incorrect quotes#hq!!#friend convo
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I wish mental health services were more easily accessible and certain mental illnesses weren't still demonized in the field
#still pursuing a bpd diagnosis#but a lot of the specialists im seeing online are all like#have you been victimized abused or manipulated by someone with bpd?#and im like :(#ough im not ready to have ANOTHER heavily stigmatized mental illness#but despite that i still do hope i get diagnosed#i think it would explain a lot#and really help me work through my issues#before it gets to that tipping point#it already has come close multiple times just this year alone#i just... idk#i want to be better i want to get better#i dont want to hurt people anymore. i dont want to hurt myself anymore#it sucjs it really does#sorry for vent posting again#i just dont have anywhere else to go#and i dont feel comfortable talking to people about this stuff usually#everyone tells me i can talk to them but.. idk. its hard to do that. so many things can go wrong. i dont like talking about myself#i like for people to have a certain image of me. prefer people not to worry themselves over me#it brings bad feelings and associations sometimes#which if i have bpd can be thhe cause of that i suppose. just makes me feel insecure? ig? guilty? makes me feel like a bad person#when people try to get me to take care of myself. even if its a good thing#idk im just rambling#nobody take this in a bad way or feel discouraged in fact dont pay any mind to this#im just spitballing#will probably delete later#monnie rambles
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happy [late] birthday to the clevery guy !!!! <33
~ after being taken out by Tracey for some fun in the city for his big day , once returned home , the birthday boy himself gets some lovely stickers made just for him by Sketch , who had to get over her disdain of the color green for the day , just for her friend's sake . of course , Tony couldn't just not give his dear pal anything , instead baking the computer his cake for the special day , alongside other smaller gifts ;3
also extra digitaltime thing thing for the occasion teehee 💌
#hnsgh yeah okay#digitaltime brainrot is killing meee#it sucks when theres barely any content of your blorbos being romantic and stupid and fluffy#anywhosies#this isn't about digitaltime#this is about colin and his little guy little birthday#i struggled with both of these pieces for a little bit but . in the end . im actually very proud of how they turned out !!#especially the second one teehee#it would mean a lot to me if you peeps you reblog this !!!#no pressure ofc !!#dhmis#dhmis art#dhmis au#high voltage au#dhmis colin#colin the computer#dhmis hv colin#dhmis tony#tony the talking clock#dhmis hv tony#dhmis ship#dhmis digital time#digitaltime#im going insane over them someone please send help#or make digitaltime art and fanfictions preferably#i am TIRED of doing all the heavy lifting alone#im sorry was that guy bothering you ? you don't have to make digitaltime content if you don't want to . don't listen to him hes just insane#oh yeah those on colin's neck ARE kiss marks from tony okay im done i love you drink water byeee !!!!! <33
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euphoriablog-blog1
you will not influence the world by being like it.
pearlytm
Untitled
iqpunam
Untitled
aglarnis
Aglarnis
rainchocolatecake
eternal peace is probably overrated