NSFW. Ango X Oda X GN!reader.
NSFW. Ango x Oda x GN!reader.
Content: Reader has a pussy but no gendered pronouns used. Threesome. You and Odasaku team up to give Ango a birthday to remember. Set in an alternate Dark Era where everything is cool and sexy and there's no tragedy whatsoever and you could all get married and grow old together if you want to because nothing bad will ever happen. Very submissive Ango. Alcohol consumption, smoking (not specified who), lots of kissing, handjob (Ango receiving,) oral (Ango receiving,) anal (Ango receiving,) vaginal penetration, reader on top, nipple play (Ango receiving,) Approx 3.5k words.
Happy Birthday, Ango
Your orders from the Port Mafia's youngest executive were clear: “Take this card to Bar Lupin in Chuo City and deliver it to a man named Ango Sakaguchi. It's his birthday, but I'm afraid I have an assignment to carry out and won't be able to celebrate with him. Please send my apologies. And after that, you can call it a night.”
A simple job for a low level PM grunt such as yourself. Still, your hands shook on the stair rail as you walked down into the bar. This was, after all, an assignment given to you directly from Osamu Dazai, and you knew far better than to piss the kid off. His reputation not only preceded him, but kept his enemies awake at night.
There were two customers in the cozy, windowless bar, along with the bartender and a calico cat whose eyes seemed to follow your every movement with a vague and alarmingly human sense of amusement. The two men perched on stools at the counter barely registered your arrival, save for a polite nod from the one you recognized; Sakunosuke Oda, a grunt just like you but even lower in the hierarchy. He’d always seemed like a decent man.
That meant the other man was likely your target.
“Mr. Sakaguchi?” you asked the bespectacled one, approaching the bar and sitting on the vacant stool between the pair.
Sakunosuke and Ango made brief eye contact, a silent exchange passing between them, a mild concern followed by an assuring nod of the grunt’s head. He knew you were Port Mafia, there was no need to be suspicious of you.
“Yes?” Ango replied, looking down his nose at you.
“I was asked to deliver this to you. From Mr. Dazai. And he sends his apologies but he won't be able to come tonight.”
Ango pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before opening the envelope. “Ah, it's a birthday card.” He read the card with a blank expression. “Dear Ango, have a drink on me. But there's no money inside.”
Cold fear turned your blood to ice. “I-I didn't take it, I swear.”
“I know you didn't,” Ango said with flat sincerity as he tucked the card into his satchel.
“There was never any to begin with. That’s just Dazai,” Oda confirmed, sipping his whisky.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely certain,” Ango said. “You can relax.”
And relax you did.
Dazai had told you you could call it a night once the card was delivered, after all, and far be it from you to disobey a suggestion from an executive. It took very little convincing for you to stay perched at the bar, working your way through a bottle of 12 year-old Yamazaki with Ango and Sakunosuke— who after the second glass insisted on you referring to him as Odasaku.
Stiff conversation turned to an easy flow after a half hour, and a boisterous stream by the end of the evening.
Before you knew it, the bottle was dry and the three of you were pleasantly buzzed, squeezing into the back of a cab, you and Odasaku giggling mischievously as you penned Ango in the middle seat.
“This is absurd,” Ango muttered, struggling to find a comfortable spot for his elbows. “Odasaku, get in the front seat so we can breathe.”
“Psh, we’re all friends. Besides, it’s your birthday.” Odasaku sighed, linking his arm with Ango’s so they could sit more comfortably.
“What does that have to do with–?”
“Hey,” you interjected, linking your arm with Ango’s on the other side. “Where are we going?”
“Ango’s place,” Odasaku said, putting his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes. “He has a bottle of 18 year-old Yamazaki.”
“You are not touching my 18,” Ango said bluntly before leaning forward to give the cab driver his address.
Your eyes briefly met Odasaku’s across the seats, their blue impossible to see in the darkness of the cab, yet you remembered it vividly. You could almost picture the playful light glinting in them as he gestured toward Ango with a tilt of his head, his intention clear: let’s get him.
You grinned in silent response: let’s do it.
The moment Ango had finished giving his instructions to the driver, You and Odasaku yanked him back into the space between you, rewarded for your synchronized effort by a haughty harrumph from the smaller man.
Ango glared at you both across the top of his glasses, which had slipped halfway down his nose. He tried to raise his hand to push them up, but both his arms were pinned. A long-suffering sigh marked the end of his attempt as he resigned himself to his fate.“You two will be the death of me.”
“Nonsense, birthday boy,” Odasaku chuckled, reaching out to assist him. “You’re back between us, right where you belong.”
“Don’t put fingerprints on my glasses!”
“Well, hold still and I won’t.”
“You are! Oh look at them, Odasaku, you’ve made such a mess,” Ango groused. “It’s like looking through fog.”
The city lights passed by the cab’s windows as your new friends bickered playfully beside you. It was a short ride to Ango’s apartment, made even faster by the ease with which they welcomed you into their fold, with you quickly falling into the role of Ango’s co-tormentor. Not that any of it was malicious; quite the contrary. It was all affectionate and he knew it.
By the time the three of you were seated around the chabudai in his apartment, Ango’s once stiff demeanor had melted away completely, leaving him altogether more relaxed and somewhat rosy cheeked at your playful jabs. The record player in the corner played easy bebop jazz on softly crackling vinyl, the warm light of the room casting your trio in a comforting golden glow.
“You’re terrible,” Ango sighed with a subtle smile, shaking his head as Odasaku expertly jimmied open the liquor cabinet and took out the 18. “Utterly utterly terrible. Robbing a man on his birthday.”
“We’ll repay you,” Odasaku said, sitting cross-legged at the low table and pouring three generous measures.
The bespectacled man’s face paled as he watched his precious whisky fill the glasses. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? That whisky is worth a fortune. It was a gift from the boss, you know.”
“Hm…” Odasaku shrugged as he screwed the cap back onto the half-emptied bottle. “Well, there are always birthday kisses.”
“Kisses? From you?”
“I’ll kiss you too,” you said, taking a sip of the whisky. “Both of us, right, Odasaku? That should cover it.”
The redhead nodded sagely. “Both of us.”
“Pft,” Ango's brow puckered as he skeptically watched the two of you, waiting for one of you to crack, for the sudden tension in the room to break when one of you laughed. But it wouldn't happen. You were both dead serious. And his ears began to turn red. “Wait… you aren’t joking, are you?”
“Not even a little. C’mere.” Oda made the first move, cupping Ango's pretty face between his broad hands, gazing down at him with a subtle smile before leaning in to kiss him.
And even though he knew it was coming, Ango let out a startled cry, muffled against his friend's lips, his stiff poise melting after just a moment, before his hands came to cover Oda’s. You drew closer, waiting your turn, watching as the two of them made out, exploring uncharted territory together. Slow and tentative at first, then deeper, hungrier, sighing longingly into each other’s mouths. Oda’s stubble against Ango’s smooth skin, the PM grunt’s hand reaching out toward you and urging you closer.
When Oda drew back, Ango’s eyes were still closed, his lips remaining parted as though his brain was still catching up.
“Your turn,” Oda said, moving to the side to make room for you.
Ango was still dazed and catching his breath, his Adam's apple leaping above the buttoned collar of his shirt.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” you asked.
Ango nodded breathlessly in response.
He really was very handsome, with his angular features, his come-to-bed eyes, and the little mole, elegantly placed just above his lip. And that was precisely where your first kiss landed.
You felt his lip twitch at your touch, the subtle turn of his head; he'd expected you to kiss him on the mouth the way Oda had. Perhaps he felt a little silly. Perhaps he felt you were a little silly. Either way, his smile widened and he chuckled softly.
“You missed,” he said.
“No. I’ve wanted to kiss you here all night,” you told him, brushing your lips over the exact same spot again. His breath caught again, his upper lip twitching beneath yours before his smile returned, tipsy on whisky, affection, and the strange sort of magic the night held. “You’re stupidly pretty, Ango.”
He laughed again, shaking his head. “Pretty? You need to get your eyesight tested.”
“No, I’m right, right, Odasaku?”
“Right,” the redhead confirmed, sitting back and swirling the whisky around his glass.
“Oh, will you two stop,” Ango fussed, the color on his cheeks rising and making him even prettier. Even harder to resist. “I’m not–”
You cut him off with another kiss, this one to his lips, letting his words die on your tongue. Smoke and whisky, shy and sweet. He moaned softly into your mouth, hands coming up to grip your arms, pulling you just a little closer, his tongue timidly caressing yours before his confidence blossomed and he kissed you like it could sustain him. Fuck, he was beautiful. He and Odasaku, they both were.
When you pulled back to draw breath, Odasaku took over once more, kissing Ango with a renewed hunger, spurred by watching you both. And when Oda withdrew, you moved in, the pair of you once more working in tandem to unravel Ango until his breaths were shallow and shaking, and his cheeks, throat, and ears were all stained rosy pink.
Oda kissed you after that, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that seeped into the marrow of you and would haunt your sleepless nights for years to come. Fingers cradling the back of your head, pulling you gently against his broad chest.
“You two…” Ango whispered, adjusting his glasses as he watched the pair of you. “Dammit, if you knew what you’re doing to me.”
Oda glanced at you, a wry smile slanting his lips. “I think we have a pretty good idea. The question is, do we stop at kisses?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air between your trio. “I’m more than happy to see this through all the way, but if you want it to end here, we’ll let it go. No hard feelings at all.”
If working for the PM had taught you anything, it was that life was fleeting and tomorrow never guaranteed. Why the hell not indulge while you could? Ango and Oda were both beautiful; Ango with his classic, timeless elegance and handsome features, Oda with his altogether more rugged beauty, his gentle blue eyes, the subtle dusting of freckles on his cheeks. “I'm in. All the way.”
Oda gave a single nod of agreement, his softening expression hinting that perhaps he too had been a little nervous of rejection anyway. “Ango?”
Without a word, Ango took off his spectacles, setting them carefully on the table before picking up his whisky glass and taking a sip. For a moment you suspected he was going to say no, that he was working up the courage to assert that kisses were enough for tonight and you should go your separate ways. But then he set down his glass, loosened his tie, and rocked forward onto his knees, closing the space between you on all fours and ghosting his lips over yours.
Not quite as shy as you had assumed.
While he kissed your lips, cupping your face between his hands, Oda moved in too, bestowing deep, languid kisses to the groove of muscle running the length of Ango’s slender neck. Ango moaned softly, the sound vibrating through your body and causing heat to pool in the pit of your belly.
As with everything, it seemed you and Oda had once more reached a silent agreement that this night was for Ango, and the two of you would do all that you could to make it good for him. And Ango didn’t seem to mind at all being the recipient of both of your attentions. He broke away from your lips to watch Oda’s sturdy hands slip the little pearly buttons of his shirt out of their holes, his breaths trembling as he pressed his brow to yours.
“Shit,” Ango whispered. “Is this happening?”
“It’s happening,” Oda replied, pulling off Ango’s button-up, exposing the man’s lithe torso to his and your lips, your tongues, and teeth.
And Ango was so very sensitive, jolting, breath fracturing at every kiss, his body undulating into the sensation as you licked a slow stripe up the length of his torso, beginning below his navel and ending at the valley of his throat. Oda lapped at his nipples, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of Ango’s slacks and drawing out a breathy cry of surprise and pleasure.
“Feel good huh, birthday boy?” Oda crooned against Ango’s chest.
Ango’s hand surrounded yours, guiding it down to the bulge tenting his trousers, releasing a fragmented breath at the sensation of two hands touching him. “S-so good. Use me. Please God.”
It wasn’t long before you were unbuckling his belt, sliding your hand inside to find him obscenely wet, leaking onto Oda’s rough hands.
“My, and here I thought you’d be the quiet one,” you said, teasing his weeping slit with the pad of your thumb as Oda stroked the base of his cock.
He was throbbing, twitching, pre-cum beginning to soak through the fabric of his trousers, leaving a wet patch which had Odasaku smirking as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the puckered bud of Ango’s nipple.
“So wet,” you whispered against his ear. “So pretty.”
A moment later Ango lifted his hips, frantically wriggling from his slacks so he could watch you both touch him. The head of his cock was engorged, glistening, a deep shade of reddish-pink. The sight of it proved too much almost instantly. “I… ohhh. I might– c—”
Oda chuckled. “We’d better slow down, huh? ‘S getting too much?”
The other man nodded, dragging shallow steadying breaths through his teeth. “I don’t want it to end yet. Just give me a moment.”
“Poor Ango,” you cooed, kissing his temple and threading your fingers through his tousled hair which his morning gel had long ago surrendered hold of. He was a wreck already, and oh so very beautiful. Lying, kissed half to delirium by his lovers, so gorgeously decadent as he lay blushing on the living room floor.
He huffed indignantly through his nose, yet unsubtly leaned into your touch. “It’s not as easy as it looks, being the center of attention.”
“No?” Oda asked with a subtle smile, pressing his lips to Ango’s shoulder. “Well we’ve got all night. We don’t have to do a thing before you’re ready.”
It really didn’t take long. Ango was more resilient than he looked.
“I… I’m ready,” he declared a little while later, lowering himself to take the last few inches of Oda’s cock with such a wanton moan it made your core clench.
He sat with his back to Oda’s chest, your hands keeping his slender legs spread wide while you knelt between them, dragging your tongue along his twitching dick, tracing the bulging veins running from base to crown.
“Oh god…” he moaned, the twin sensations immediately too much. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from rocking back and forth, toes curling against the carpet, hands braced on your shoulders. “I don’t think… hah… I’ll last…”
“Stop thinking, Ango,” Oda said, wrapping his arm around his friend’s waist, teasing his kiss-swollen nipple with the pad of his middle finger. “Just feel.”
Ango’s cock twitched against your tongue, his fingertips grasping for purchase along your back. He was balanced on the precipice of release, yet desperately wanted to prolong the sensation, to delay his climax as long as possible. The poor thing was doing his best to get a rhythm going, but time after time the stimulation became too much for him and he had to pause, gasping and overwhelmed from pleasure and exertion.
“Need a break?” Oda offered, peppering Ango's back with gentle kisses and pressing a hand against his lower belly. “You can just lie back and get fucked…”
Ango could only nod, sweat beading down his temples and on his upper lip. “Uh-huh.”
“Good.” Those pretty blue eyes met yours. “What do you think? You want to ride him?”
A needy whine slipped from Ango's downturned mouth, his eyes screwing tight and cock leaping in response. He definitely liked the sound of it.
With a smile you pressed forward, your lips trailing up his belly, feeling him tense and quiver, “You want to fuck my pussy, Ango?”
“Yes,” he nodded again, as if to emphasize the sincerity of his answer. The calm, measured man you'd first met at the bar was no more as he leaned back, silently inviting more of your kisses. “Yes. Yes please. Please. I want– I need–”
Odasaku placed his hands either side of Ango's waist holding him down as you climbed on top. The redhead ground out a low, breathless “fuck” as your weight pressed Ango even further back onto his cock.
You wrapped your hand around the base of Ango's dick, teasing yourself with his bulbous tip by sliding it between your pussy lips and circling your clit. Ango whined desperately, his eyes squeezed tight, his thighs trembling beneath you.
“Heh,” Oda panted, pressing his head back against the back of the couch. “He's squeezing me so tight. Fuck… milking my cock. He wants your pussy so bad, isn't that right, Ango?”
“Oh God…” Ango was done in completely, his head back against Oda's shoulder, one hand draped across his brow, the other gripping your arm as though some part of him feared you'd stop if he didn't hold on to you.
“Here, sweet thing,” you said, taking his hand and leading it down to your clit, guiding his fingers so he stroked you just how you liked it. “Make me cum.”
The look of desperation in Ango's eyes took on new urgency as you lowered yourself onto his cock, his cry of pleasure immediately fading against your lips. Nimble fingers devoutly stroked your clit, chasing your pleasure as much as his own.
He wasn't going to last much longer. And neither were you.
“Fuck yes,” Oda gasped beneath the two of you his lips against Ango's ear, “oh fuck, fuck, mmmh… ‘m close. So fucking close. You’re gonna make me cum, Ango.”
Ango's brow pinched as his jaw fell slack, his eager tongue swiping at your lips as you approached your own high. Sweat and panting breaths, his cock pulsing inside your throbbing cunt. The air hot and heavy, between the three of you, filled with the heady scent of sex and gasped pleas.
“Oh god, oh god I… I'm dying…” Ango whimpered, drawing out Odasaku's blissed-out smile, teeth pressed to his lower lip.
Your climax rolled through you, your pussy clenching around Ango's cock as Oda filled him from behind with a bitten back growl. Ango followed a fraction of a second later, cumming with such a feral cry it was as if his soul was being torn from his body.
“Fuck me, oh fuck me,” Ango ground out, tears of relief clumping his pretty lashes. “Thank you, thank you.”
The world began and ended with the heat of your bodies pressed together. Labored breaths slowing, remnants of pleasure binding the three of you, fading throbs a blissful swansong.
“Happy birthday, Ango,” Odasaku said, breaking the silence.
Ango could barely lift his head, his soft breaths warm against the crook of your neck as he muttered something vaguely along the lines of “thanks”
Later, you stood on the balcony with Ango wrapped in blankets yet still shivering from the cold, and Odasaku, cooling off with the last of the whisky. Wind whipped cigarette smoke into the frigid night air, the lights of the city casting your trio in a calm blue glow.
“Almost wish I'd grabbed your camera, Ango,” Oda sighed, stubbing his cigarette on the railing, “I could have taken a few souvenir shots for you to remember this by.”
“As if I'll ever forget,” Ango chuckled, pulling his blanket tight around his body and leaning his head on your shoulder. The man was exhausted but unmistakably content. “Besides, it's your birthday in five days time, isn't it, Odasaku?”
“It is. Perhaps the three of us should have another party?” The redhead's lips twitched subtly, his nails rasping through the stubble on his chin as he turned to you. “What do you think? You in?”
Author's note: Hi! I just want to say thank you to all the people who have read and interacted with my Ango Week fics. This was such a passion project and there were times I was sitting on my couch writing these stories and thinking "am I the only one who is actually going to care about this?" so it means a lot to know others enjoy it too.
And also, happy birthday, Ango, ILYSM.
Tags: @osamucide @dorotheasdiary @candiedfright @hisokamywaifu @hideandgopeep @da-h0manb3an @shytastemakerthing @nem0philistx @thewickedjazzy @chuuminn @guys-im-scared
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touya tag: @moonchild701
❝ you’re looking at me but you’re not seeing me. do you know how that feels? just see me. please. ❞ with a Mitsuya that thinks you don’t feel anything for him but in reality you love it so much it hurts? 🥺 please?
Congrats on the milestone!!!!!!!!!!!
NOT STRONG ENOUGH.
pairings — mitsuya takashi x female!reader.
warnings — fluff, a tiny bit of angst because it’s friends to lovers.
word count — 1.5k
notes — happy birthday mitsuya my beloved!!! also, im sorry for the other requests i’ve ignored to write this, but soon i’ll reach to them i swear dsghasd
tagging — @tooweirdforyou @1900-aria @etheralyonn @rayfuyu @chronic-claire-universe @aqualesha @winterv-black @softbajis @dai-tsukki-desu @aftermxxn @danceafternoon @sureconfused @sanzuhachoo
takashi couldn’t be more grateful to his friends for remembering his birthday, and throwing him a surprise party. if he had the reins of what his birthday would be, he would probably spend it alone, working on a new fashion project and, probably, gathering everyone to celebrate it on the weekend.
he didn’t suspect anything when you appeared in his atelier, all smiles and silly antics, even though he knew you had college classes on that day. you said you had taken the day off to spend the day with your best friend — and takashi really tried to not be bitterwith your words, because he wished he was more than just your best friend. he had been in love with you since middle school, when emma brought you to a toman meeting because your parents were traveling, and she didn’t want to leave you all alone in your house. but he appreciated the gesture, and was even ashamed when you paid for his lunch at a well-known, and quite fancy restaurant. you two were broken young adults, but you dismissed his worries with a beautiful smile on his face.
when you two arrived at his apartment — after an afternoon laced with laugh and subtle touches from his side — and everyone screamed “surprise”, he tried to pretend to be mad at you, but the sheer happiness dripping from your eyes from seeing takashi looking so happy stopped him in his tracks.
that, and chifuyu’s arm on your waist.
Keep reading
Take a seat || Miguel O'hara
Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!reader
Summary: Never in your wildest dream did you imagine having your husband ask you to sit on his face.
Tags: Face sitting, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, smut, NOT BETA READ.
Words: 1.2k
saw someone plead for this one lmao. They asked so nicely so I delivered, idk if this is how it usually goes tbh. This shit's so rushed but I guess I have to squeeze everything out before school starts again tomorrow aaaaaaaaaa
other than that, enjoy! Thank you all for your love on my fics aaaaaaaaaa im running out of header pics da;flkhwah
mi vida - my life || dios mio - my god || mi bella esposa - my beautiful wife || cariño - honey
“You want me to do what now?”
Miguel sighed exasperatedly as he facepalmed, embarrassed. “Don’t make me repeat mys—”
“No no no, I heard you loud and clear.” Which doesn’t mean you understand why all of a sudden. “But why?”
“Should I have any reason why I want you to sit on my face?”
In a gazillion universe, you’d never thought you’d hear those words come out of his lips. Sitting on his lap, you stared at the man incredulously to which he scowled at.
Usually, oral between you both are usually done with you underneath him as he pinned your thighs open and wide for him since he likes the control. To hear him ask you to sit on his face mid-foreplay shocked you.
You pinched your thigh, unconvinced by his sudden change of mind and Miguel sighed once more.
“Is it that hard to believe, mi vida? Dios mio, if you don’t want to do it, just say it—”
“No no no, lay back down, I’m just processing.”
Excitement thrummed madly in your veins as you pushed the man back into the mattress. Excitement got you removing your underwear in a second before sitting back on his chest. It’s not fast enough apparently, when his strong arms hook under your legs and pull you directly on top of his lips.
Your breath got stuck into your throat. The mere feeling of his hot breath on your skin caused ripples of heat from your abdomen to your fingertips. You’ve always had orals before, it was something he’d never forget, yet there was something about sitting on top of his face that got you aroused more than ever.
“Go any slower and I would’ve thought you’d want to back out.”
“Not my fault. You’re so impatient.”
“A pretty girl sat on top of me, naked and wet, begging to be devoured. Do you think I’d ignore you, mi bella esposa?”
His dark voice, along with his fogged red eyes staring at you through his eyelash sent shivers down your spine, cheeks flushing beet red. You almost slapped the growing smirk off of his face at your flustered state.
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you smell absolutely delicious.”
His arms locked around your thighs and you immediately knew you were done.
His tongue felt like silk gliding through your folds before rolling your clit in figures of eight. You sighed, throwing your head back as pleasure slithered down your spine at his every exhale fanning your skin.
There was something about the stings his stubbles brings as it scratches your skin along with the stimulation of his tongue that drive you crazy.
You swear you’re not a masochist by any means, yet when it comes to Miguel, every joy, sadness, pain and pleasure felt like a reward from the high heavens that you couldn’t help but accept with gratitude.
Your hand found stability in his dark locks, pulling and tugging his head closer to your heat, causing him to groan, the vibration seeping into your bones.
His hands roamed your body as if desperate to find a treasure in the unknown, nails dragging the skin from your back and down to the globes of your ass. The sting they left in their wake stirs your nerves awake, the pain mixing in with pleasure. You sighed, falling to lean on the piles of pillows as you dragged your clit with the point of his tongue.
Miguel wandered lower, tongue rolling around the rim of your entrance, sending electric jolts down your legs. You shivered as the sensation of his fangs rubbing against your folds, always so close yet so far away.
You gasped when the appendage plunged into your entrance, his large nose pushing into your clit as he pulled you closer to his face.
“Fuck…!”
“You taste divine, cariño.” He groaned. “Give me more.”
Bringing his hand down hard onto your ass, you whined. The stinging pain it left had your body singing for more and you knew Miguel was aware of the effect it has on you with how hard you clench on his silky appendage.
“Move.”
“Huh?”
Another sharp slap echoed in the living room, harder than the one earlier and you cried, hips stuttering forward on his flattened tongue.
“Ride me, cariño. Like you’ve always wanted.”
And you swear you’ve never heard anything more romantic than that.
With a smidge of hesitance, fearing you’d suffocate him, you rolled yourself on his tongue, eyes locked onto his darkened ones that dripped with desire. Still unsatisfied, his hand lands another hit on your skin and you move more desperately against him.
You cry as he starts to pick up the pace of his tongue, putting pressure onto your bead and shaking his head aggressively underneath you. He swats you once more when your hips stutter from the stimulation before clawing your flesh and grounding you further into his mouth.
“Harder.”
“I’m trying—Ah!”
Sneaking a hand below, he immediately inserts two digits inside of you. He spared no time hastening the speed of his thrusts while licking enthusiastically onto your clit making your eyes roll back.
Chasing the pleasure his fingers and mouth offered you, your hips rolled uncontrollably against his face. The obscene squelch echoing in the room would have embarrassed you, yet you couldn’t find it in you to flush.
The tight knot in your abdomen tightens as heat explodes from your chest and reaches down the tips of your limbs. You couldn’t do anything but cry as you tether closer to nirvana.
“I-I’m close.”
“Come for me, mi vida. Give it to me. I want it all.”
With his grounding arm reaching up to rake through your back along with his fingers and tongue, the knot unfurls and you come with a cry.
Suddenly, he had both arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from fluttering away from his ministrations. You gasped and pushed at his head but he paid no heed to them, rolling and shaking his tongue onto your clit as if trying to coax another climax from you.
“Miguel…!”
His nails digging into your flesh was the only answer you received and maybe the tug on his lips at your trembling thighs as well. It didn’t take long before pain started to blur with pleasure and your hips rocked against his tongue despite the protest of your heat with one hand tugging on his hair and the other holding on for dear life onto the headboard.
You didn’t have the mind to worry about his nose being blocked by your mon pubis, focused solely on your orgasm. With how he ground your hips onto his lips, you knew he didn’t mind.
And with a weak shout, you unravel, flesh and bones, on top of him. There’s a sound of something breaking in the haze, but paid no heed to it as you fall bonelessly onto the mattress. Miguel pulls away, gasping for air just as you turn to face the ceiling.
Your arousal drenching his face evoked something feral within you, the simmering desire in your stomach stirring awake once more. His eyes turned to the headboard and chuckled, reaching over to run his fingers over the dent with amusement dancing in his eyes.
“I guess a Spider-Man will always be a Spider-Man.”
“Oh shut up.” You groaned, chucking a pillow on his face.
eek ! ! ! i am very excited to announce the upcoming productions for this season at the theatre of vampires!! dates are listed if you wanna grab a ticket (and maybe a bite before the show) . . .
please note that if you attend, the theatre is not responsible for any blood loss or death !! warnings will be posted with each show, so please be sure to read them before engaging in dark content! anyone under eighteen will not be allowed entry into the theatre.
⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ this is everything we have planned for now, as it will hopefully be a feasible amount for our busy season !! lmk if you'd like to book a ticket in advance & i'll give you a tag on that piece !!
october 1 - his parliament's on fire ♰ port mafia boss / night club owner dazai . . . every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they'd commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai's.
october 6 - pain reliever ♰ vampire yuuta . . . your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month
october 10 - skipping heartbeats ♰ curse user nanami . . . nanami wants to see every jujutsu sorcerer dead, but he might make an exception just for you
october 13 - sweet serial killer ♰ serial killer chuuya . . . chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.
october 17 - sent to destroy ♰ fallen angel dazai . . . he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.
october 21 - cold embrace ♰ ghost fyodor . . . he's spent two hundred years murdering whoever moves into his home, but he can't remember a time they were ever as pretty as you.
october 27 - bleeding me dry ♰ vampire dazai . . . it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover and your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.
october 31 - to be revealed later ♰ nanami . . . super special fic that i'm not sure will be finished by halloween, but i want to write it eventually, so it'll be my little secret for now !
⤷ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !!
anyways that recent ask about if Compass!Nemi could have kids in a perfect world has me thinking about this little bit from an upcoming chapter (ft a bloody, beaten Sanemi)
“I’d make babies with you,” he slurs, his head falling heavily onto his arm.
“No, you wouldn’t,” your fingers peel his eye lids back, studying the way his pupils react to the light. “You don’t want kids, remember?”
Thankfully, Sanemi’s eyes dilate the way you think they’re supposed to. No concussion, at least.
“Said I can’t have ‘em, not that I didn’t want ‘em. Two different things.” He groans as you turn your attention to the many bruises blooming along his ribs, nauseating whorls of black and purple rapidly covering the left side of his torso. “I’d only have ‘em if it was with you. We’d make a whole truckload.”
“That’s ambitious,” you tear a wad of paper towel from its holder on the table and shove the wad in front of his lips. “Cough.”
With a wince, Sanemi complies. He coughs once, twice, before he rolls his face against his forearm. You inspect the paper towel with excruciating precision, searching for any sign of red among the spittle staining its fibers, but there is none to be found.
Sighing, you crumple the towel in your hand and slump into the seat next to his. If any ribs are indeed broken, they haven’t punctured his lungs. You’ll take your silver linings where you can get them.
Sanemi continues pouring his heart out all over your table, the lids of his eyes growing heavy. “Kids and grandkids, too. I’d do it all with ya, if we were anywhere but here”.
BONUS
“I think you’d make a damn good mom, for what it’s worth. ‘M sorry I’m takin’ that away from you.”
lovesick loverboy
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ
feat: dazai, chuuya, fyodor
ꨄ˙ CW(s): gn! reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk)
ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: in which you drink too much and don't even realize that your boyfriend is your boyfriend or you might as well be drunk in love
in the dimly lit bar, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself swirling the remnants of a colorful cocktail, the room around you blurring as the night progressed.
DAZAI sits beside you, and couldn't help but notice your flushed-pink demeanor, fueled by the drinks you had consumed, and giggles to himself.
in your tipsy state, you tilt your head, looking at dazai with a playful suspicion. the room spun slightly, and you sway on your seat, trying to focus on his face.
"you know," you slur, "you're a suspicious stranger. i bet you've got some secret agenda." you point an accusing finger at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
dazai, amused by your playful accusations, couldn't help but giggle even more, "oh, do i now? well, i'm just a harmless 'stranger' who happened to find the most adorable drunk person in the entire bar."
you raise an eyebrow skeptically, still not recognizing him, "adorable, huh? well, mr. stranger-fanger, you're gonna have to prove it." you cross your arms, a challenging smirk on your flushed face.
dazai, seizing the opportunity, wraps his arms around you with a mockingly serious expression, "see? no danger here, just a guy who appreciates adorable drunks."
you broke into a fit of giggles, melting into his embrace, "well, you're not that bad for a stranger, i guess."
completely unaware that the 'stranger' was, in fact, your boyfriend, you continued to enjoy the whimsical dance of laughter and teasing, creating a memory that would undoubtedly be cherished in the days to come.
"i'm gonna be serious though, i am your boyfriend," dazai says to you.
you blink softly at him, your tipsy-drunk state had somehow lead you to look at him as such. dazai blinks back before a grin starts to tug on his lips.
"do i have to remind my dearest? well, then. buckle up because you're in for a treat!" he says before he instantly starts peppering your face in kisses as he holds you tightly.
you immediately start to squeal and giggle as you are reminded of the constant kisses that your boyfriend would give you admist the alcohol in your system.
"osamuuu!" you say in a soft whine before he pecks your lips.
dazai grins even more widely at your cute little whine as he cups your face now, "that's more like it. goodness, such an adorable drunk you are, hmm?"
CHUUYA watches with a mix of concern and amusement as your cheerful demeanor transformed into a tipsy state.
as the night wore on, chuuya decides it was time to take you home. he gently placed his gloved hand on your shoulder, trying to capture your attention, "hey, it's getting late. how about we head home?" he suggests, his voice warm and caring.
however, in your inebriated state, you misinterpreted the situation. you gasp sharply before you squirm in your seat and whine softly, "nooo, i'm having so much fun here! plus, you can't take me home! i have a boyfriend!"
chuuya was flabbergasted, but he couldn't help but chuckle at your resistance afterwards upon seeing this, "come on, baby, i'm not a stranger. i'm your boyfriend, and I just want to make sure you get home safely."
now it's you blinking softly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and innocence, "boyfriend? really?" you giggle, completely unaware of the true nature of your relationship.
"you're being so silly right now, i almost can't with you," chuuya sighs, still laughing softly, "geez, i didn't know my baby can be this forgetful with this much alcohol."
undeterred, chuuya continued to coax you gently, his amusement growing as you stare at him in awe as you begin to pat his cheeks in your warm hands, "this pretty face is all mine?"
chuuya chuckles again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he takes your hands in his before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on your lips and whispering, "i'm all yours, baby."
the night unfolded in a blend of laughter, warmth, and the endearing challenge of convincing you that the 'stranger' was, in fact, the person who cared for you the most, and you couldn't help but giggle even more into the kiss.
FYODOR observes your increasing intoxication with a measured gaze, a sense of concern clouding his usually composed demeanor.
as the night unfolds, you continued to enjoy the array of drinks that nikolai had generously provided you two. fyodor, recognizing the potential consequences, decided it was time to intervene. he places a hand gently on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
"dear, perhaps it's time to slow down," fyodor suggests, his voice calm and measured as he tries to get you to stop.
you looked at him with a tipsy grin, oblivious to the fact that fyodor was your boyfriend, "but nikolai is just being generous. no harm in a few more, riiight?"
fyodor's piercing gaze held a mixture of concern and determination, "i'd rather not see you regretting this tomorrow. let's enjoy the night responsibly," he insists, attempting to guide you away from the tempting allure of more drinks.
however, in your intoxicated state, you resisted his efforts, misinterpreting his intentions, "oh, come on! live a little, stranger!" you playfully tease, unaware that fyodor was the person you were romantically involved with.
fyodor couldn't help but hide a small smile at your playful antics, though he inwardly feels a twinge of sadness at being referred to as a stranger, maintained his composure.
he observes you with a subtle sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that betrayed the depth of his feelings. still, he wasn't one to give up easily.
with a gentle touch, he cupped your face, making you meet his gaze, "remember, i'm the one who cares deeply for you," he murmurs with a faint smile, his eyes staring in yours.
"i may be a stranger in this particular scenario, but i am not to you," fyodor replies softly, realizing that your drunken state was proving to be a barrier. yet, he didn't relent.
the realization began to dawn on you, your intoxicated mind slowly connecting the dots, "wait a minute... you care about me? really?"
fyodor nods, his eyes holding a mixture of hope and longing, "more than you can imagine."
you blink softly, still processing the situation through the haze of alcohol. before you could react, fyodor leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss against your lips. the touch was tender yet filled with an unspoken depth of emotion, an attempt to bridge the gap that had momentarily separated you.
as the kiss unfolded, a subtle warmth spread through you, and the fog of intoxication seemed to lift momentarily. the taste of familiarity mingled with the hint of sadness, creating a poignant moment that transcended the blurred boundaries of the night. fyodor then pulls away, his gaze searching yours for any signs of recognition.
there was a pause, a moment of suspended realization. slowly, your eyes widened, and a spark of recognition flickered within them. "wait," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and clarity as you smile. "you're not a stranger, only my fedya kisses me like that!"
a soft smile tugged at the corners of fyodor's lips as the weight of being called a stranger lifted. the kiss had served as a catalyst, a bridge that connected the fragments of memory scattered in the alcohol-induced haze.
"my, my, how could you forget your fedya, dear?" fyodor sighs, shaking his head before he kisses your lips again and whispers, "traitor.."
ꨄ˙ A.N.: i feel like i might have written fyodor in an ooc-ish way, and if i did, i apologize !! haven't written for him in so long and i don't write for him as often as dazai and chuuya. this is also kinda silly i think now that i've finished writing this lol !! thank you so much for reading until the end (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
୧ ‧₊˚ I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE ! *¨¨*:·.♡.·:*¨¨*
﹙ ✿ ﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, fukuzawa, oda x fem!reader ♡
﹙ ✿ ﹚── content warnings : nsfw content (mdni), breeding kink, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, squirting, mentions of pregnancy & babies, petnames, degradation, overstimulation, hairpulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be dumb like them), tit slapping, belly bulge etc ♡
﹙ ✿ ﹚── synopsis : baby makin' ♡
﹙ ✿ ﹚── author's note : here it is, baby making with bsd men as it was highly requested. you guys can read bsd men as dads here ♡ happy reading & I hope you guys like it :3
୨✩୧ DAZAI
You had the amazing idea of messing with Dazai, getting your karma because he messes with you all the time. Flirting with that cute waitress from the cafe, 'accidentally' eating your snacks...yeah you had enough. You remembered Chuuya, his oh so beloved rival and came up with the perfect plan. Atleast you thought it was perfect.
Your eyes rolled back into your skull from the mind numbing sensation of your husband's cock stirring your insides deep. Your legs were propped up on his shoulders, ass smacking against his hips with each mean thrust into your velvety, welcoming walls. His jaw slacked to let out moans everytime you clenched around him so good, pussy clinging onto his rigid cock like a fucking vice. "haah─ feels good doesn't it, 'donna?" He grinned mischeviously, rolling his hips in a way that makes you see stars. "yeah? feels good getting pounded like a little slut? yeaah" he drawled, smirking at the way your eyes cross. One of his bandaged hands reached down to squeeze your tits, rolling a nipple between his thumb and pointer finger as you jot and whine from the stimulation. "you wanted this, didn't you?" He growled, slapping your supple and soft tit then kneading it in his large hand. "is that why you─ haah─ shoving your fuckin' tits all up in Chuuya's face?" You couldn't even think properly anymore, the only coherent thing you could say was your lover's name, chanting it like a mantra as he fucked your brains out. "should I just make you a mommy then? huh? Fill you up with so much cum that it leaks out?" His hand came down on your tits again, and it fucking stung but felt so good at the same time. "pleasepleasepleaseplease─ fuck! 'samu" you choked out, desperate to cum and relieve the tension in your tummy. "yeah? you want my cum? you want me to cum and fill up your pretty lil' pussy?" You could only nod, tears stinging your pretty eyes as you cum hard on his cock. After a few minutes, Dazai reaches his peak aswell, cumming in ropes with a loud groan. You could feel his warmth in your tummy, leaking out of your battered cunt when he pulls out.
୨✩୧ CHUUYA
"You think we would make good parents?" Chuuya asked you one day, chin resting on his palm as he flips through a magazine for baby stuff. You turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in shock because you two never had this conversation before. Now that he mentions it, you remember thinking a while ago how you and your lover would be as parents. You take a seat next to him, lips curved into a smile, "yes."
And that's how you ended up in chuuya's bed in a full mating press with him pressing all of his body weight on you, holding you down to fuck you nice and deep like you deserve. The once pristine sheets now stained and soiled with a mixture of your and chuuya's cum and other fluids, turning the silken sheets into a darker shade than it was previously. He had cum so many times before this already, but he just couldn't stop. He needed to feel you clenching on him even more, needed to hear you scream and moan his name when he kissed and bit your shoulders and chest, leaving his mark on you. He was desperate to feel your nails racking down his back while he fucked into you, thick cock hitting all your sweet spots. The pain and pleasure made his mind hazy, eyes flicking down to watch as a creamy white ring formed around the base of his cock from how long you two have been at this. He wasn't gonna stop until he was absolutely sure he had fucked a baby into you. "ya seein' t-this, doll?" He moved his hand from the back of your thigh to your lower tummy, pressing down on the slight bulge there as you squeal. You didn't know if you could handle not passing out from the pleasurely pain before he was done with you.
୨✩୧ FYODOR
You absolutely adored Fyodor, your dear husband. He would treat you so gently like you're made out of porcelain, holding your cheek in his cold palm, rubbing the warm flesh gently as he mutters soft words of affection to you. That's exactly how he approached you when proposing to you that he wanted you to bear his children. You, his sweet little housewife, just how could you refuse him when he asks so sweetly? Deep voice smooth like honey as he told you how wonderful of a mother would be.
Just like he knew how to cherish you like the finest treasure in the world, he also knew exactly how to break you down into a sobbing, shuddering mess beneath him. He'd mutter the filthiest, most sinful words against your neck while thrusting into you, both of you a sweaty mess. The room smelled like sex from how long he'd been plowing into your sloppy cunt, absolutely drenching his thighs and cock in your arousal. He nipped and sucked little marks into your collarbones and neck, red and blue bruises blooming on the sensitive flesh as you screamed his name in pleasure. "oh, myshka, you feel just wonderful around me," fyodor grunted, hips smacking against yours in perfect precision. You could only babble dumbly in response, cockdrunk from how long he'd been at this. He was dead set on getting you pregnant. He imagined you, his darling wife's tummy full with his babies, tits swollen and heavy with milk and fuck. Just imagining that made him pound into you faster, harder as he desperately chased his sweet release. His hand reached down to thumb at your pretty clit, rubbing fast and tight circles on the little nub as the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your cunt gushed all over him, making him finally reach his own release with a low groan as he held you close.
୨✩୧ SIGMA
You've been hinting at your lover that you finally wanted to try for children. But alas, he was just a little too oblivious to your hints. It was getting annoying at this point, he would just blush and stammer at your bold moves, looking away when you give him a playful but flirty smile. Hell, you even gave him some baby clothes to make it obvious but he just thought you bought that for him and just got a very wrong size. That was your last straw. You had to take matters into your own hands.
He came home late that night, it was a busy at the casino. He thought you'd be asleep already, tucked away into the comfort of your shared bed. Oh, how wrong he was. He walked into the living room, sighing as he took off the outer layer of his clothes. He was about to place it on the coat hanger when his greyish eyes landed on you, who was dressed in the prettiest white lingerie he'd ever seen. Good God, you looked like an angel. The faint glow of the candle light highlighted your features, making you look borderline otherwordly. He could hear his own heartbeat, his face and ears getting hot as you slowly stalked closer to him. Now standing infront him with a soft smile gracing your glossy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He flinched from the contact of your bare skin against his own. "w-what's this about?" He gulped. You chuckled, getting on your tippy toes to mutter close to his ear, "I want you, Sigma. I want you to fuck me. I want your babies." He shivered when you playfully bit the shell of his ear, finally gaining the courage to touch you as he gripped your hips tightly.
Now here you were, bouncing on sigma's lap while he sucked on your perky tits. His slim fingers digging into your hips while you jumped on his stiff cock, shiny slick coating your's and his thighs. Your hands gripped his long luscious hair, tugging on it to hear him groan so prettily. He bucked his hips up suddenly, catching you off guard but you still kept bouncing. He thrusted upwards, matching your rhythm and it felt fucking euphoric. He could feel you tighten around his cock, throwing his head back. You could see his eyes slightly rolled back, drool dripping from his mouth as he tried his best to keep up with you. You both came shortly after, lips smashed against each other's as he swallowed your moans.
୨✩୧ FUKUZAWA
You were sitting in the living room, right across your beloved husband as you thought about what he could possibly want to talk to you about. He elegantly sipped on his tea, setting the cup down on the coffee table that was seperating you both. "I've been thinking about this for the past couple days," he started, " I think we should try for a child. Of course, if you don't want to that's comple─" "no! I-I mean.. I also think we should try" you cut him off. He smiles, "So we're on the same page?" You returned his smile, reachingyour hand out to hold his bigger ones, "definitely, dear."
"shh, darling. you're doing so good for me," he gasped, rocking his hips gently against your plush ones. He felt so big inside you, your pussy molding to the shape of his cock. Everything about him was so elegant. The way he softly intertwined his fingers with yours as he fucked you dumb on his cock. He wasn't even going hard on you, the sheer size of his girth made you see stars and eyes roll back. His other hand was gently stroking your cheek, wiping the unshed tears in your waterline with his thumb while mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. A low rumble formed in his chest when you clenched around him, "are you going to cum, sweetheart?" "nghh─ 'm gonna cum! please, fuck! don' stop!" You babbled, gasping when he picked up his pace. "go on, sweet girl. cum on this cock right now," he grunted, his grip on your hand tightening as you both cum. You were panting, mouth agape as you tried to come down from the mind numbing high of your orgasm when he started moving again, not giving you time to rest. You tried to stop him, pressing a hand agaisnt his hard chest but he just pinned you down easily, muttering something about he wasn't gonna stop until he was sure you took his seed.
୨✩୧ ODA
You knew your man loved kids, and you did too. So why not have some of your own? The thought of starting a family with the man of your dreams made butterflies flutter in your stomach. When you confronted him about it, he was ecstatic. He imagined a mini you or him running around the house. He thought about it a lot. Would it really be a good idea considering his dangerous job in the mafia? Fortunately, you were there to reassure him. Telling him that even if he worked for the mafia, he wasn't a bad person. He deserved happiness in his life and you would be glad to give it to him. Heavens, how he adored you.
You don't know how many hours have passed since Oda started drilling his fat cock into you, reaching every crevice with ease as he rolls his muscular hips just right. You don't even remember how many times you've came─ your mind not being able to keep up. Everything felt so blurry, you could hear ringing in your ears, with your legs being pushed back all the way against your chest. Your knees almost touching your ears as he folds you into whatever position he pleases. His cock pounding you so hard while his balls smacked against your ass, the soft fat jiggling with each brutal thrust of his hips. It's like something snapped inside of him, crumbling all his restraint to take you slowly, lovingly and gently. He was never this rough with you. Did the subject of him getting you pregnant really affect him that much? Whatever it was, you didn't have the brain capacity to think about it right now, not while Oda was absolutely destroying your cunt. "you see that, honey?" He groans, staring in awe at your tiny cunt stretching around him. "she's droolin' on me, fuck─" he cut himself off with a gasp, watching as you shamelessly squirt all over his cock, drenching his abdomen and the sheets beneath you. "holy shit, and I thought you couldn't get sexier," he laughed, running a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat. "don't worry, pretty. cum all you want, I'm not stopping till' I'm done with you."
©ambrosiaa— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡
TAGS : @hypocritic-trash-baby @gimme-noodles-please @dazaiserectnips @leonslxtkennedy
actor!gojo dryhumps you under the sheets during the “fake” sex scenes you both film together… nobody on that set has any idea that your moans and his moans are, in fact, very real
caution: incredibly slutty use of birth control. MDNI.
Across the room comes the piercing, repetitive sound of an alarm.
You look to Sanemi in question, whimpering as the warm comfort of his body abruptly pulls away from you. The little cry of protest you make at the loss of his warmth tugs at his heart, but he’s got an obligation to see to. Jaw tight, Sanemi ignores the own ache he feels as he crosses the floor of the hotel room to rummage through your luggage, his cock painfully hard where it bounces against his abdomen.
It takes him only a second to find the small card lined with those tiny white pills. Quickly, he pops one free and holds it between his teeth, reaching to silence the alarm blaring on his discarded phone.
Pill wedged carefully between his teeth, Sanemi makes his way back to you and climbs onto the bed, knocking your legs apart with his knee.
He ignores your questioning look, too focused on the slightly swollen lips of your pussy, the glistening slickness of your own arousal mixed with his cum.
Fuck, he’ll never get enough of it.
Giving himself a firm pump, Sanemi lines his tip back up with your entrance and slides home once more. He resumes his pace with ease, fucking you as though he never stopped, while you writhe and moan beneath him.
“Hey,” he commands around the pill still perched between his teeth. The moment your eyes, hazy with pleasure, find his, Sanemi grabs your jaw. His fingers squish your cheeks as he surges toward you, closing his mouth roughly over yours.
Your lips part for him and Sanemi forces your birth control into your mouth, parting with one flick of his tongue against yours. He pulls back, his hands sliding under your ass, tilting your hips up as he settles in his knees.
Stunned, your mouth remains slightly open as you stare up at him, pupils blown wide.
“Swallow it.” Sanemi commands, forcing himself to hold your stare instead of letting his eyes fall to your breasts as they bounce with his movements. “Your birth control. Swallow it.”
When he does not see the telltale bob of your throat, Sanemi unlatches a hand from your ass and brings it to where your bodies are connected.
A graze of his nail of your clit makes you buck, but Sanemi slows his movements. “Swallow it.” He orders again, noting with some relish, the indignant scrunch of your eyebrows as he stops moving all together. “Do it, or else I won’t come in you.”
He’s dead serious and you know it. Still, the threat of him not filling you up the way he knows you need quickly turns your eyebrows up, your eyes widening with a plea.
Hastily, you swallow under Sanemi’s discerning eye. The moment the pill slides down your throat, you hold your tongue out for him, eager.
A pleased smirk settles on his lips and you clench around him. “That’s my girl,” he purrs, carefully drawing his hips back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you.
Sanemi’s hands anchor your hips. He rises slightly on his knees, bringing your lower half with him and pauses. A flick of his eyes to yours, and he slams forward, impaling you on the thick, full length of him.
what a whore.
─ The two of you have argued before, there was nothing new or strange about it. Sometimes, though not very often, you'd get upset at something he had said or done. He’d act without thinking, or speak without consideration; words sharpened by negligence, actions spurred on without thought.
Like a wheel that is fated to see no end, spinning and turning on its axis — over and over, again and again — you watch the cycle of anger unfold. He’d drag a hand across his face and tell you to stop overreacting. You’d get irritated and he’d change his tone with you. Lower. Stricter. Harsher.
“This was nothing” or “That didn’t mean anything,” — “You’re overthinking,” he’d say.
And though it was a vicious cycle, patient and damning, you’d learned to adapt to its maliciousness; to the parts of it that drew out the worst in you. You’ve molded yourself to its shape and tried to understand where it stemmed from. Twisting and turning, pulling and pushing — the worst parts of him met the miserable parts of you.
You tried. You really did try.
But the carelessness in which he'd started to approach said arguments was new, and his dismissive manner was starting to thin your patience.
He ignores you as you walk behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides in the heels you’d worn for the night.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” You plead with him as he stops abruptly at the penthouse door, shoving the key into the slot aggressively. You were getting tired of arguing about the same thing — worn out from having to bring it up so often. Why wouldn’t he listen? Why did he refuse to understand?
The door had just barely closed behind you, when he turns around, slamming the wall beside your head with a heavy hand.
“Enough.”
Ran’s eyes are filled with fury and impatience as he stares down at you. A terrible rage fills his lavender hues and you hesitate. There was no room for your anger in this house. No room for you when he was so domineering and present. He’s never been this loud with you — has never been so upset or mean. His tone startles you.
And though you’ve argued before, though you’ve disagreed at times, you find that you don’t know how to deal with his anger — anger that has never been directed towards you to this extent. You just don’t know.
It’s unsettling. There's a hole in your chest that is torn open, a passiveness settling inside.
You’re upset that he has consistently brushed you and your concerns off to the side. You’re upset that your worry had been interpreted as childish jealousy. You’re upset that the only time he had decided to take you seriously was to yell at you — to shut you up.
He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls back and heads to the kitchen, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the couch. He leans against the counter and lights a cigarette in an attempt to calm his nerves.
He'd expected you to start crying — half expected you to apologize even. You never liked fighting with him. He was never one to blow any argument out of proportion either. But this — this had to stop. No matter how many times he’d dismissed it, no matter how many times he’d told you not to worry about it, you still brought her up. Enough was enough. He looks up at you briefly, eyes flickering towards you as he exhales.
There's a blank look in your eyes, a fragmentation he couldn’t understand. It felt as though you were looking through him. The parts of you that sought to intertwine with him and understand — that hollowed themselves out to make room for him — they fall back in defeat.
Your eyes aren't glassy; they don’t even sparkle.
He clenches his jaw and looks away. Guilt and haunt reach for his throat, as he shakily exhales the smoke.
You turn around, hand reaching for the wall as you bend to unclasp your heels. The right shoe comes off first. The left one follows after. He watches as you walk away with the shoes in your hand, fingers threading through the straps.
You don't say a word. He doesn't hear you make a sound.
The cold air of the restroom makes you aware of the slight wetness on your cheek. You stare at your reflection and you can’t help but wonder if the woman in the mirror was in the wrong. Were her feelings misguided by insecurity? Was her envy so green and her thoughts so vile? You tell her not to worry; that it’ll all be alright. You stare at your bruised toes as you fidget and sigh. You don’t even have it in you to cry.
You spend time with the other woman, washing away her fury; cleaning her anguish. Her breathing has steadied and she watches you from beyond the mirror as you wipe at your face, baring yourself to her. She’s satisfied and you turn your back on her temporary satisfaction, slipping into a loose dress and finding your place on the bed.
He hasn’t bothered to come check up on you. To apologize to you.
You push her nagging voice out of your head, stretching your legs out and picking up your phone instead. You scroll mindlessly for a minute or so before you decide to call a friend. It’ll help distract you, you think. You’ll call your dearest friend and she’ll make you laugh. You’ll laugh and you’ll smile and the filth encompassing your heart will wither away at your joy.
Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly what you’ll do.
“Hello?” She says.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
Silence from your end.
A minute. Then two.
“Ah, I get it. Do you want me to pick you up? We can go eat somewhere.”
“Yes, please.” You aren’t hungry at all. She knows that too.
“Give me 20 minutes, I’m finishing up a shift right now.”
“Okay.”
More silence, this time from her end. Another minute. Another two.
“Did he…he didn’t hurt you, right?”
You shake your head, the rustling making its way over to her end.
“No, never. Not physically at least.” You try to smile, but the other woman insists on tugging at the corners of your mouth, pulling them down.
‘Break,' she says. ‘Break and ruin,' she wants to scream.
You hear a dramatized sigh of relief through the phone.
“Ah, thank God. That bastard scares the shit out of me, honestly. But I’ll kill him if he ever lays a hand on you, you know that, don’t you?”
You laugh and she smiles.
“He wouldn’t, I promise. He isn’t so bad.”
“You’re not seriously defending him right now, are you?”
You find it in you to laugh a little harder. She bids you a temporary farewell and you feel a little lighter. This is okay. It'd be okay if you both took a break…if you were separated from one another for a little — just until you were both able to calm down and think things through.
You stand and rummage through your nightstand, putting a few things in the nearest tote bag and pulling it up over your shoulder. A light cardigan is folded over your arms as you quietly leave the bedroom. Ran is still in the kitchen, leaning over the island as he wipes a hand over his face. There's a glass of water beside him. You think he's trying to sober up, even though he didn't drink much at all.
He looks up at the sound of your feet against the tile and his eyes soften at the sight of you. He’d been waiting for you to come out of the room, not wanting to push you too far. Still, you won't meet his gaze.
It’s then that his line of sight falls to the bag on your shoulder. Panic fills the emptiness he’d been left with since you’d walked away.
"What're you…No, wait a second. Hold on —"
He rounds the corner and slowly approaches you.
"Wait, we can talk about this."
Your brows furrow as you slip on your shoes, voice soft as you respond.
"You said you didn't want to anymore."
Defeat, he thinks. Defeat is what laces your tone…like you’ve given up on him. On you and him.
"No,” He shakes his head as he steps a little closer to you. “We can talk about it. Let's talk about it, baby."
His eyes are trying to read you in a panicked frenzy, but still, you won't look at him. You take a step back, grip tightening on the strap of your bag.
“I think,” you bite your lip, brows furrowing as you try to find the right words. “I think it's best if I spend the night somewhere else."
“Fuck no.”
You hold a hand out, a weak attempt at stopping him from getting any closer. He steps forward. You step back. He reaches out for you and you deny him.
“Come on, love. Please.”
What you say next comes out of you so quietly — so dismissively — had he not been so close to you, he might’ve missed it. You find it in you to finally meet his gaze as you utter the word.
"Enough."
His karma comes in the form of six letters — the ones he’d spat at you so harshly less than an hour ago. But you’re still kind, even now. How quietly the word tumbled from your lips, how beautiful you were in all your anguish. His karma grins at his misery, and rejoices at his self-induced tragedy.
"Please," he begs.
How pitiful. How cruel.
He grips your wrist when you turn to open the door, caging you in between his arms.
"Don't," he pleads.
You try to turn in his arms, tugging at his rolled-up sleeves, nails scratching at tattooed skin. His biceps flex as he holds you to him tighter. Closer. Don’t go. Don’t leave. You feel the rise and fall of his chest behind you — the racing of his heart as he holds you against him. You sigh, deciding to ease his mind.
"I’ll come back, Ran. Just one night.”
"No, no. Don't walk out on me."
He shakes his head at the thought, in misery and denial at its implication.
“I'm sorry."
He apologizes and you freeze in his hold, fingers stilling against his forearms.
“I'm sorry," He says again. "I won’t raise my voice at you again. I'll never talk to her again. Won't even look at her, baby. I’ll cut all ties right now. Please just don’t go."
He keeps one arm wrapped around you as he reaches for his back pocket, pulling his phone out in the process. You blink, watching as he brings the device over to you, his fingers unlocking the screen as he looks over your shoulder, chin propped against you. You watch as he removes her from his Facebook. You watch as he blocks her on Instagram. You watch as he goes to delete her number. It’s then that you start to cry. You cry so hard, your shoulders tremble and your hands shake. You cry and you cry until you're overcome with the urge to vomit.
“Don’t cry, love. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
How did he let it get this bad? To ignore the pleas and worries of the one that gave him reason and meaning for the sake of maintaining a business relationship he didn’t give a shit about ─ To brush your pain off for the sake of an organization that only brought him misery...The twisted cynicism was almost laughable. Over and over, you'd asked him to listen to you. And over and over, he’d dismissed you.
It's his fault. It's all his fault.
No one else but him.
His arms fall to his sides and he stands there, watching you.
You wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. His hands tremble as you step back.
"All I asked was for you to establish clear boundaries with her."
Your hands shake as you point an accusatory finger at him. Your breathing falters, salty tears meeting your tongue as you try to find your words.
The other woman licks at your wounds. 'Destroy him,' she says. ‘Leave him,’ she whispers. You dig your nails into the skin of your palm at the violence of her words.
"But you made me seem like I was crazy for wanting that."
His eyes widen as he stares at you.
No longer covered in the green of her envy and guilt, she lines you with her red. You become one with your sorrow and fury.
"Why couldn't you establish one simple boundary until I was about to walk out? What kind of girlfriend is supposed to be okay with seeing another woman press herself up against her boyfriend?"
You quiet for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and his heart breaks at the sight of your stuttered breathing and tear-stained face.
"Cutting her off means nothing. Not when you brushed me off every time I brought it up.”
“Love ─,”
You cut him off, mumbling to yourself as you pick at the skin of your nails.
"God forbid someone even looks my way. But with you —" you snort and it's void of any emotion.
His face darkens at that.
"Watch your mouth," He steps closer.
You look away.
Lithe fingers grip your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him — into his eyes. Eyes that only desire you, that only love and lust after you. You, you, you. Always you. Only you.
She was nothing more than an old Bonten business partner, but you? You were everything.
He presses his lips to yours. Neither of you wavers in closing your eyes, the haziness of his own meeting with the anger in your irises, but he kisses you anyway. He kisses you and he kisses you. You don't kiss back.
The bag slips off your shoulder and you move to lift it back up. He refuses to let go of your jaw, lips moving against yours as he speaks.
"I love you."
"Liar," you whisper against him.
He groans and kisses you harder.
"God, I love you."
You shake your head in his grip but his hands are firm, squeezing your cheeks lightly, forcing your lips into a subtle pout.
"Get this shit off already." He pulls your bag down to the floor and throws you over his shoulder.
“I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
“Yeah? Where exactly were you gonna go?” He squeezes your hip as he walks towards the bedroom. He knows the answer, knows you would’ve been safe had you actually left. You might have smiled more tonight had he let you go with your friend; might’ve been spared of the tears you’d shed instead. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let you go.
You rub at your eyes in exhaustion.
“I’m not sleeping beside you. I don’t want you.”
He smacks your ass harshly before sliding a palm beneath your slip, stroking the skin gently.
"You're a liar, baby."
Please be lying, baby.
You grip his shirt to keep from falling.
"I hate you,” You whisper out.
He tightens his hold on your waist.
"No, you don't, princess."
His voice is low, strained. He prays you don’t hear the tremble in his tone.
He sits you down onto the bed, kneeling before you on the floor. You go to pull your legs up but he stops you, palms gripping your ankles as he places his forehead onto your knees.
“Don’t leave me.”
The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the humidifier he’d forgotten to turn off before the two of you left. It’s a steady sound — soothing in its own right. You don’t say anything as his fingers rub at your calves, as he nuzzles his face into your skin.
"I’ll do anything.”
You’re stunned into a deeper silence, staring down at him in shock. It’s laughable really, how terrifying he is to others. Tall and threatening, dark eyes and a prideful smile — the Bonten executive’s standing was respected by most. Feared by all.
And here he is, kneeling before his girlfriend, begging her to stay.
You bring a hand down to brush through lavender strands, releasing a shaky breath, as you play with his hair. You speak and your voice is soft, not disturbing the still air around you. He freezes, listening intently.
“She’s in love with you.”
He can’t help the slight sound of indignation that he lets out.
“No, she’s not. She’s just-”
“Just a business partner. I know.”
There’s a tremble to his hands as he leans forward on his knees, hiding his face in your lap as he grips your waist tight.
“I’ll talk to the rest of the executives tomorrow, we’ll find someone else to ─”
You shake your head.
“That’s not what I’m asking from you.”
He looks up at you in confusion, fingers tight against your hips.
“Then what?”
“I can’t —” You whimper and his heart breaks. “I can’t be with you if she’s going to disrespect me like that, if you’re going to let her disrespect me like that, every time we see her.”
He watches you with a certain softness in his eyes as he climbs up onto the bed beside you.
“What’re you talking about, baby?”
“Is it okay for her to touch you like that? You’re okay with that?”
You pull away from him, folding your legs up to the side as you pick at a piece of lint on the comforter.
He hadn’t thought much of it. The woman in question had been a long-time Bonten business partner, she’d known most of the executives for a decade. Her behaviors and antics, they were all used to it by now, aware that they had to put up with it to build a false sense of trust, to lul her company into an aura of security. Of all the execs to take a liking to, she’d chosen your boyfriend. Expensive nails that didn't belong to you were often wrapped around his bicep during events, and you’d watched off to the side ─ hoping, wishing that he’d say something. Anything.
But nothing ever came out. Nothing was ever said.
And you’d taken the brunt of it. Time and time again.
“I can’t ruin Bonten’s relationship with her,” He had said once, the first time you ever brought it up. “Her company is a pivotal part of our projects.”
Watching her wipe the wine stain from his lips tonight, with you seated right beside him ─ it made you wonder how far she’d gone when you weren’t around. How far she was willing to go? How far would he let her go?
You look away at the thought. The light catches onto your tear stained cheeks and he hates himself.
He furrows his brows as he stares at the pattern you were making on the comforter, the trail your fingers created and left behind. He eyes the bruised skin of your cuticles and the chipped paint of your nails — a telltale sign of your anxiety. How had he missed that? He eyes the missing ring on your right hand and his breath hitches. When had you taken that off?
He feels sick. He’d noticed that you’d declined to go with him to Bonten events as of late. You stopped attending, telling him you were too tired. Too busy. “Another time,” you’d say. “Another time,” he’d smile and agree, kissing your forehead before he made his way out and left you alone.
You’d lied to him to keep from arguing about this anymore, to keep yourself from doubting him. You’d lied and he’d fallen for it — thinking nothing strange of your behavior. And when you’d finally given in, deciding that you missed your boyfriend and that it was well within your right to go out to dinner with him — you had to sit and watch idly as she sat on the other side of him. On this cruel and unforgiving evening, you’d watched as she touched him and stared at him. You’d listened as suggestive jokes were exchanged and loud laughter was thrown across the table. You'd watched with a quiet that only the broken could understand. He’s a fool for not pulling your hand back into his once you’d pulled it out — an idiot for not following after you when you’d excused yourself to go to the restroom. He’s a moron for not seeing the hurt that you were in and the knives that dragged through your skin as he turned a blind eye.
Cold metal is pressed to your skin and you shiver at the feeling of his rings against your cheek. His eyes carry a sadness you don’t recognize.
“You’re my woman. You.”
“Then act like it.”
You move to your side of the bed, turning off your light as you send your friend a text. You’ll explain everything when you see her, you say. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.’
—
You sleep with your back facing him that night. Ran can’t find it in him to sleep at all. He’s scared, terrified that you’ll try to leave in the middle of the night — that you’ll leave just as wordlessly as you let your pain settle into your bones, and that he wouldn’t notice again.
He’d been too careless with you recently. Too comfortable and neglectful.
You turn in your sleep, unconsciously facing him, and he leans up on his arm to watch you. Carefully, gently, he lifts your hand up to meet his lips. Soft kisses are pressed to your knuckles and cuticles, to your palm and wrist.
You don’t stir.
He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead before it becomes too much for him. He’s overwhelmed and it hurts. It hurts to know that you hurt, and it hurts to know that you hurt because of him.
Ran sits up and heads over to the living room, closing the door behind him quietly.
He leans his head back against the couch, arm coming up to cover his eyes. A part of him thinks it’s ridiculous for a man of his power and standing to get worked up over his girlfriend like this. The other part of him doesn’t understand. He’d never been one for long-term relationships. Commitment had never been the issue either. They were just too much. Too much to deal with, too much work to be done — to care and to have to care, to trust, and to be trusted. It was all too much. He never bothered with the matter in its entirety.
But then he met you. And he’d asked you to stay. So you did.
Caring came naturally to him then. Loving was even easier.
He sits alone in this dark room and thinks about you and him. He thinks and he hurts, and he's reminded of the words Sanzu had thrown at him last night. Ran is more than ashamed.
—
“You’re losing her.”
“What’re you on about?” He had said, lighting his coworkers cigarette before leaning back to light his own.
Sanzu had gestured to where you were standing, away from the crowd. You had an arm loosely wrapped around the street pole as you watched the Tokyo night traffic, waiting for your boyfriend to take you home.
“She doesn’t look too happy.”
He frowns at Sanzu’s words, irritated by his comment. For an outsider to speak on his relationship with you, for another man to act like he could read you (and for him to be right about it too), Ran’s blood boils as he crushes the cigarette between his foot. He'd turned to look at you then, at the blank look on your face, wondering briefly just how much you kept to yourself. You had smiled weakly when he took your hand and led you to the garage. You said nothing else for the rest of the car ride. Until he prodded at you. Until it was too much for you to ignore. Until you came to the conclusion that should he want any other woman, you’d rather he let go of you first. Let me go, let me go, let me go. If I’m not enough, please let me go.
He’d gotten pissed at you for that and had sped up his walking once the two of you got out of the car. The front desk personnel lowered their gazes as the two of you walked into the building, and you had quieted down out of respect for your relationship.
─
His stomach churns and he soaks in his self-hatred. You could've reassured her. Could've held her hand a little tighter, could've kissed her a little longer. You fool. He hopes it isn’t too late. He groans and leans forward, running his hands through his hair aggressively as he covers his face with his palms.
He’s too in his own head to notice that you’d woken up — that you’d been standing nervously at the end of the hallway, watching him. He lets out a choked sound and your heart falls victim to his silent pleas. You make your way to him, silently asking to be let into his arms and onto his lap. He startles but quickly makes room for you, staring at you with wide eyes as you place yourself onto his thighs, settling against his chest.
Loving arms wrap around his neck as you turn your face to his chest. Undeserving palms stroke your back, pulling you in by the waist, ever closer.
“I’m sorry.”
He stares down at you in shock at the words you’d chosen to utter.
“What? What’re you –?”
You look at him and the darkness accompanying his eyes ─ at the lilac hues rimmed with red and purple, and subtle traces of blue as his veins surface beneath his skin. He was tired. So tired. Fragile fingers stroke his cheek, finding their way to the fine lines around his mouth. His stubble pricks your palm as he nuzzles his face into your skin. It's fascinating to watch a man of his stature — a man of his strength and power — fall weak to your touch. He wonders if you knew that he’d give up all that he was for a chance at forever with you. The money didn’t mean shit and his position was for naught if it meant you were hurt — if it meant you would leave. ‘If you leave, take me with you,’ his core wants to cry out. His arms wrap around you tighter as he hides his face in your neck and you blink in surprise.
“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”
Your hands find the hairs at the back of his neck, twisting the black and lavender strands, tugging them gently beneath your fingers.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
He freezes. Your voice muffles against his hold.
“I know you have obligations. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Or worse, you want to say. I don’t want to get you killed over something so…
You shake your head at the thought.
Even now, you’re still thinking of him? Even now, you’re putting him before you? He thinks it’d be fitting if he were to dig through the earth and call out to the devil himself. With bloody fingers and a dirty face, he’d call out and he’d say, ‘Come get me, come take me. This woman is too good for me.’
“I love you, I trust you. I won’t bring it up anymore.”
You press a kiss to his throat, directly onto his tattoo, before you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, broad shoulders comforting you. He falls in love with you all over again. He keeps one arm firmly wrapped around your waist while the other trails up and down your thigh.
“Baby.”
You hum in acknowledgment, waiting for him to continue.
He pries you off of him, gently setting you down in his place on the couch while you look at him in confusion. You settle into the warmth of where his body once was, watching him curiously.
Ran kneels before you for the second time that night. His head is bowed slightly and his palms are flat against the cotton of his pants
“This is all on me. Not you. I’m sorry, love.”
“Ran, get up.”
You sit up, anxiously reaching for his arms but he shakes his head.
“Please just listen." He swallows, gaze fixed on the ground. "I’m a real shit boyfriend. Put you through so much shit you shouldn’t have to deal with. I know you deserve better.”
So much better.
“But I love you. I need you. I’m selfish and fucked, but I need you. ”
You tilt your head at him as your lip quivers. His shoulders tremble slightly and you reach for his cheeks, hands on either side of his face as you lean forward.
You kiss him then, for the first time all night. A languid kiss. ‘Feel all of me,’ it says. ‘Feel what you do to me.’ His brows furrow as he squeezes the skin of your thighs. You whimper against him and he smiles against your mouth, teeth touching, bones aching.
He pulls you off of the couch by the waist and onto his lap as he embraces you. The two of you find refuge in the floor of the apartment.
You stay on top, seated right on his hips as your tongue meets his. He bites the column of your throat and you tilt your head back in need, giving him access to the skin he wanted to mark.
“I belong to you,” he whispers against your skin. You sigh, fingers in his hair as he kisses and bites, as he licks and whines. He reaches for the palm you had spread against his jaw, moving it to his hips.
“Ah, fuck.”
He groans in your ear at the feeling of your skin against his, at the raw affection exchanged between the two of you. He missed you, he missed you — he doesn’t deserve you. You snap his train of thought in two as you slip your hand into his pants, watching the rise and fall of his sternum. You trail your eyes back to his face and find that he’s already staring at you. One arm reaches back for the collar of his shirt, and you fixate on the flex of his bicep as he tugs it off to reveal his chest.
“My woman,” he grunts.
You nod distractedly, cheeks heating up at the intimacy. Something in him snaps when you slip the straps of your night dress off, lifting the hem to expose your underwear to him.
“Shit, you’re —” He cuts himself off to slip the flimsy cloth to the side. You stroke him as he prods into you, moaning into each other's mouths, staring at each other with desperate eyes. Love and lust and need and want. He wants to fill you with all the words he couldn’t properly say. Again and again, he'd find you. Should he be damned to a fate where you aren't beside him, he'd spend forever looking for you ─ for the home he'd found within you. Never again would he let it get this bad. Never again will he make you feel unwanted or unloved.
“So fuckin’ beautiful.”
He kisses your chest, words vibrating against the skin as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, pretty. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.” you cry out as he touches you deeper, rubs at you faster.
“Real shitty guy, aren’t I?” He lets out a strained laugh as your hand falters against him. “Not good for you, am I?”
You shake your head, eyes shut tight as a familiar feeling washes over you.
“I – oh,” You cry out, unable to finish your sentence as you collapse in his arms. “I love you. Please, please.”
“Please what, baby? What is it?”
He lays you down, hovering over you as he bites at your lower lip, appreciating the curve and swell.
You spread your legs and he swears.
“Please.”
“Yeah. Shit, yeah. Anything for you.”
He can’t find it in him to strip you completely. You don’t care enough that his pants are still somewhat on. But with each snap of his hips, he finds you and you find him.
He’s a sorry excuse of a person, a vindictive, hurtful soul. A damaged man with the world at his feet and his heart in your hands. He’d handed it to you himself with a hammer in tow. Should he ever go too far — crush his very spirit and rid of him of whatever is left of his soul.
But he knew. He knew that he’d be forced to sit and watch as you tenderly held the flesh. He’d sit with his legs crossed and his cheek in his palm, watching as you soothed the erratic pulsing.
‘What about the dark spots?’ He had wondered. ‘The filth and the corrupted gloom. How will she handle that? Will she throw them out? Look at them in disgust and try to change them?’
(He receives his answer time and time again — answered over and over by the one person who didn’t realize they were even being questioned.)
He'd watched as you held his heart, with all of its twisted calamities, and placed it right against yours — as if it wasn't stained, as if it wouldn't taint you for as long as you stood. And for the first time in a long, long time, Ran Haitani had resisted the urge to cry.
—
He doesn’t let you go as you try to get up from off the floor.
“I didn’t pull out,” He mumbles. “That’s my bad.”
“I know,” You whisper back, into the darkness of the room.
“Are you baby trapping me?” He lifts an eyebrow, cracking one eye open as he grins at you.
“You’re the one that wouldn’t let me go, perv.”
You flick his forehead and he laughs beside you lazily. The two of you are eye to eye and a complete mess at that.
“I need to go clean up,” you say when he shoots his hand out to your wrist to stop you from standing.
“No, I want to go again.”
“You’ll fall asleep midway.”
He grins and you laugh.
“Hey.”
“Hm?” There’s still a hint of a smile on your face as you pull your gown back into place.
“Tonight…” he turns to face you, eyes heavy with sleep. “I won’t let that happen again.”
You don’t look at him as you fiddle with the straps, tugging at them till they seem somewhat right.
“Look at me.”
He sits and tilts your chin towards him. Hesitance. Worry. (And though you’ve forgiven him, there’s still pain in your eyes.)
“I was in the wrong, and I hurt you for a long time. It won’t happen again.”
You stare back into his eyes — into the aftermath of your apocalypse. You want to tuck him into your ribs, to cage him in and hold him tight. And though he was older and had lived a life that had picked him apart more times than he could count, you don’t think you have it in you to surrender him to the darkness. Your naivety has you following after him eagerly — no matter where he takes you, no matter where you go. You’d pick up the parts he threw out on the way, and you’d ease yourself into the emptiness of his soul. You’d placate his hunger for love and give him a place to belong.
He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response. All you can do is nod.
He sighs in relief. You kiss his nose softly before you stand, giggling as he groans at your insistence on leaving the confines of his arms. He lays back down as you steady yourself, eyeing your hips before he reaches up to lift the hem of your nightgown, whistling when he eyes the damage he’d done.
“Nasty old man.”
He laughs and it’s full of life – filled with love and joy and you.
“You're into nasty old guys?”
You laugh as you walk away, turning to look at him as he grins at you.
“Just this one.”
He groans as he gets up, long legs chasing after you as you run away. It’s late, much later than he ever liked to stay up. But he’s home. He’s in your arms as he lets you fall back onto the bed, rejoicing in your laughter as he attacks your stomach with sporadic kisses. You’re here, and he’s home.
You lay on your side, holding him to you, as he nods off against your chest. A tattooed arm is thrown over your waist while the other falls slack near your thigh. The pain of the night lingers idly, wondering what will become of itself. You’ve killed the envy inside you, held hands with the fragility of the red woman that had insisted on coming out of you.
Ran Haitani is a large man, not small by any means. But underneath the prying moonlight, you think he looks vulnerable. Men of hurt will only know hurt, while the good of the world remains a foreign entity. He’s lucky, in that sense. There is a woman to hold him as he sleeps, a woman he trusts enough to fall victim to. And if he came home to you covered in blood from head to toe, covered in the sin of the world, baring the weight of their tragedy, he’d stare at you and say “Disgusting, isn’t it?” And he’d watch you shake your head, ‘No’.
“It isn’t so bad.”
-
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