Chuuya Nakahara X Afab!Reader

Chuuya Nakahara x afab!Reader

wc: 14k+

general warnings: afab!reader (gn pronouns/nicknames, afab genitalia), mer!chuuya, eldritch mermaid au, author plays fast and loose with the definition of eldritch, thunderstorms, injuries, tension, strangers to lovers, cult references, island survival, hunting, descriptions of food & preparation, unedited writing

nsfw warnings: MINORS DNI, fingering, oral & penetrative sex (all reader-receiving), unprotected sex, handjobs, multiple orgasms, biting & blood, mild dacryphilia

written for the teahouse server's mermay collab, hosted by @petrichorium !!

Rain has notoriety amongst humans for a plethora of reasons.

Some people find it calming, revitalising, a sweet nurturer of life from the heavens. Others live in fear of the rain’s tender lovers, the thunder and the lightning, who join their sweet peacebringer when turbulence rages through the skies.

And one thing that you have learned about rain in particular is how such a gentle nourishing sensation can feel just like shards of glass against your flesh when you’re caught in the throes of a storm. 

Soft droplets that kissed your skin when the clouds were still close to white turn sharp and violent as the wind picks up, whipping them around in a frenzy and sending them hurtling back at you. 

The small rowboat you’d taken out with you isn’t by any means well-suited for these elements, swaying and sloshing through the ocean with such fierce turbulence that you’re surprised its still holding out on you as you desperately try to navigate your way towards the eye of the storm. By now, the floor of your vessel is drenched, puddling, soaking your poor feet even further. Surely the wood will crack under the damage, the interior not made to withstand contact with water like the hull. 

For now, you grit your teeth and carry on, oar so tight in your hands you may very well contract splinters. You are rocked and shaken from side to side within the confines of your little boat, battered by the torrential downpour above and bombarded from all angles by the sea below. 

A sharp crack splits from under you. 

You are sinking. Fast. 

The water rises higher within the body of your boat, reaching your ankles now. Each splitting strike of thunder from above resonates through your body with every desperate oarstroke, and you fight against the elements with all that you can muster. 

Foolish of you to think that you could power through against the inexorable rampage of the rain and her tempestuous partners. 

Contact with land is inevitable, you suppose, with how long you were drifting on the splintered remains of your boat. Weeks, or even months could have passed with how fragmented time feels when you are on your own out at sea. Of course, the fact that you’re still alive reminds you it has been shorter. But several days must have gone by at least, floating in and out of a hazy state of unconsciousness, becoming aware of yourself for the scarce moments you could drag some soggy old rations from the bag you’d kept around your person before zoning out once more. 

And then there is something beneath you, suddenly, a rocking motion that rolls you from the planks of wood you’d clung to, forces you onto something hard that does not bob atop waves. 

Whilst the rain from the previous storm continues to drizzle, the winds have ceased on land and the storm itself has all but ebbed. Thick, wet sand clings between your fingertips as you anchor yourself on your palms and rise to your feet. The tide pulls waves up to the beach, which lap at your toes as you double over and catch your breath. 

You're lucky not to have drowned out there.

Some machination of fate must have a watchful eye out for you, perhaps. It's a rather daunting prospect to dwell upon. 

In the distance, there lies a forest. Small, like the island itself, but you are sure to find decent sustenance within. Through the other side, poking out above the trees like a beacon, is the top of an old lighthouse. You’re sure it probably works, but the light inside is off and moss lies encrusted in thick patches around the walls. If it does still run, it’s surely abandoned by now.

The first order of business, you decide as you make your way along the beach, circling the forest to get to the lighthouse with less issues, is to see if you’re alone on this island. 

And hopefully soon, before night falls. 

Having a secure shelter is a blessing. Some of the lighthouse walls have holes from years of dilapidation, but there are whole floors still perfectly intact, and the entire top half of the building is still in one piece. 

The storage room is the most well-preserved, though the metal barrels and wooden crates that line the walls are all strangely void of contents. Almost as if it was the least used, which you’d think is strange for a lighthouse that clearly must have been operated by someone at one point. At least, you think, there should be some old canned goods that might just about still be edible. But there’s no food stock in sight, nothing more than a few bags of salt- supposedly to cure fresh meats. 

It doubles as some sort of records room, you realise when you find the neatly stacked collection of papers on the shelves. These must be the documentation of past keepers, all penned in a language you don’t have a clear grasp over. Similar to writing you’ve seen in older treasures you’ve witnessed over the years, but with scripture that doesn’t fit the patterns you’re used to. Maybe ancient, or perhaps from a lost civilisation you’ve never come across. Either way, you quickly have to give up trying to decipher it. 

Your journey through the lighthouse brings you further up to the next undamaged room, what must have been the keeper’s living quarters. It’s almost uncomfortably scarce, no more than a single thin bedroll in the far corner with a handful of crumpled sheets piled on top. You’ll have to try and wash them before you use them, you think to yourself with a crinkle in your nose as you bypass this floor to try and find the control room. 

As you ascend the spiral staircase that skirts the inner edge of the lighthouse, you can’t help but notice the strange symbols etched into the walls. They’re scarce on the lower levels, but increase in frequency the higher you climb, until they reach a point where they cover the surface of every single brick. 

They lead to the control room, far darker than the other floors so far, only a few small portholes filtering daylight through. There are switches all around, some across the walls and more still upon the various short plinths that stick up from the floor. It looks like they’re arranged in a circle of sorts, with a taller and thicker pedestal in the middle. 

Unease settles into the room with you like an old friend, your most constant companion since you had washed ashore. But you need to try and get this thing running, and these switches seem to be the way to do it. 

You’ve never had to operate a lighthouse before, and judging by the type of writing you’d found in the other room you’re sure there won’t be any useful instructions around to give you any sort of help. The best you can do for now is try, and surely turning everything on would be a good start. 

Making your way to the nearest plinth, you turn one of the switches and another one starts to emit a faint light from beneath. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, you weave your way around the room lighting each plinth in turn. It doesn’t quite follow the circular shape they’re laid out in, criss-crossing over one another as you move from one to the next, but it’s the best possible lead you have to getting this working. There’s surely no harm in keeping up with it. 

As the final toggle switch is flicked, the center console glows an ominous deep red. Light runs like a stream of blood along the grooves etched through the room, filling up the various runes and circles until you are surrounded on all sides by bright lines of claret. 

There is a resounding shutter-like thunk! from above and, through a tiny porthole window near the ceiling, you can see the lamp at the top of the tower come to life and flood the sea with brilliant white light. Intense and blinding, it shifts to fill the control room and you shield your eyes with your dominant arm to avoid any lasting damage to your vision until everything fades. 

By the time you can finally peel your limb back to your side, even the red lines have dissipated. Everything seems to the naked eye like it has returned to normal. And yet, the air is thick, causing each breath you take to feel rougher, heavier. Like something is pressing against your lungs with every single inhale. 

It is night-time now, and colder still than it had been. Though the rain has subsided, a sharp chill whips through the building and bites through to your very bones. Each step you take away from the control room is accompanied by an unnerving sensation, something grander than yourself, a malevolent force that is encompassing and suffocating. There is an errant humidity that lingers in your lungs, thick and heavy and far too warm. 

Despite the atmospheric clemency, you need to get some air. 

It floods into you all at once when you breach into the open, the juxtaposition dizzying as you find yourself able to breathe again. The sounds of waves crashing against the beach, of birds making their way home for the night, distant leaves rustling, all bring you back to your center as you force through several deliberately paced inhales and exhales. 

Upon the beach stands a man. 

Unremarkable in stature, yet with an aura surrounding him that fills you with a strange sort of dread deep in the pit of your stomach. A creeping sort of fear, that lingers in the corners of your mind and holds on tight to your shoulders, wraps around your wrists and your ankles, keeps you where you are in the sand, frozen. 

Something within your subconscious tells you not to entertain the notion of interacting with him. 

Something incomprehensibly stronger entices you to take a step forwards. 

“Who are you?” you call. “What business have you here?”

“You don't know?” barks the man, incredulousness in his tone. “You summoned me here.”

“I fixed the lighthouse,” you correct. “I did not summon anything.”

The moonlight reflects the jewels that hang around the stranger’s neck on silver chains, bounces off the iron buckles of his boots, and drapes along the hints of white undershirt that frame the dip of his chest, deep and v-lined. Around his waist, you can make out the tinge of bright red, a thin scarf belt decorated with little chains and common gems. He wears a black coat and a tricorne hat hemmed with silver, smaller and less fancier than the ship captains you have seen in the past, but grandiose enough to tell you that this man is important to his crew. 

He has frowned at you for so long now that you’re certain it’s a permanent feature of his visage. The downturn of his lips is deep-set above his chin, disapproving, and a frustrated huff slips through them as he observes you. 

“What I’m taking from this is that neither of us have a way to get off this fucking island, yeah?”

“For now, pretty much,” you say, “yeah.” 

“Brilliant.” His arms raise in exasperation, and he turns away from you. “First I’m woken up late, and now I’m here in the middle of nowhere with some idiot who can’t recognise a pharos when they see one.”

“Pharos?” you repeat. “What do you mean?” 

He sighs. “You really are clueless, huh?”

“That’s mean.”

“Get used to it, sailor.” 

Your pointed jab of the tongue in retaliation goes ignored, sidelined as he continues to speak.

“A pharos,” the stranger says, “is an ancient lighthouse. A lot of them got used for rituals, for summoning eldritch deities to do their bidding. They got taken over by a bunch of cults a few centuries back. This one-” he takes a quick respite in his explanation to turn his attention to the building behind you- “seems newer, but still at least a hundred years old.” 

“So why are you here then, if these were meant to summon ancient gods?” You mean it more genuinely than it sounds, but you can’t help taking a bit of a jab at the man who has been nothing but abrasive towards you until now. 

“Why do you think?” he returns. 

“You can’t be,” you chuckle, disbelief riotous through your tone. “You’re human.” 

He scoffs, focusing his gaze somewhere far past you. “You’d be surprised.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on then,” the stranger interjects, swiftly changing topic as he walks towards you, and then passes you by. “Let’s see the damage you’ve caused, we’re going inside.” 

“Hey,” you call out as you catch up, legs starting to burn a little from all the exertion of running around the island that you’ve undertaken today. “If we’re going to be stuck together, can I at least get your name?” 

“Call me Chuuya.”

“Alright.” You introduce yourself in turn, giving him a name you actually won’t mind being called. “No more of that nickname stuff, okay?”

“You got it, sailor.” 

Oh, this is going to be torture.

The trip to the lighthouse- the pharos, apparently- is less daunting when you’ve already taken it once before. You know what you have to expect, and pretty much remember which parts of the early levels of the staircase to avoid so that your foot doesn’t come crashing through the wood. 

Though it still seems to stretch upwards endlessly on your way up, the runes on the walls let you know that you’re closer. They’re not glowing any more, and you assume they must have faded once the pharos’ work was complete. 

For a moment, you watch the way the Chuuya walks around the space, approaching a wall and running a gloved fingertip across the divots, tracing the shape of one of the runes. You wonder if he’s able to understand them. If maybe he can even read the scriptures you found downstairs. 

“You fixed this place up?” asks Chuuya after a while, hands resting on his hips as he continues to idly observe the control room. “Tell me you noticed the cult runes on the walls when you did it.”

“I was a little busy,” you huff, “trying to get help so I could get the hell off this island.”

“And now we’re both stuck here,” he retorts. “Genius work, sailor.”

“Like you could do any better.” Frustrated, you cross your arms over your chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be some fancy eldritch being? Why can’t you just magic us off of here?” 

“It doesn’t work like that.” 

“Of course it doesn’t,” you scowl. “Well, what are we supposed to do, then?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the reason we’re here, you think of a way out.”

“The only thing I can suggest is building a boat. Or at least a raft.” 

“Then it looks like you need to start collecting some wood.”

“Oh no you don’t, mister. You’re stuck here too, the least you can do is help us both get out of here.”  

“Why should I?”

“You’re a pirate, right?” You gesture vaguely towards his outfit. “You know the importance of teamwork. We’ll get this over with quicker if I’m not the only one working my ass off.” 

“Fine,” he concedes. It seems you struck a nerve. “I’ll help. On one condition.” 

“Yes?”

“I get to be the one that gathers our food. I don’t trust you.”

“Okay,” you agree. “If you’re taking control of that, we’ll both prepare whatever you bring back. And I’ll take the lead on finding things to make a decent raft in the meantime.”

Chuuya doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning on his heel to leave. “Let’s get started. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can get the fuck out of here.” 

“It’s nighttime, you really want to start now?” You have to jog a little to catch up with him, taking a few stairs at a time until you’re closer. “Do eldritch deities not need sleep, or something?”

“No, we don’t,” he replies smoothly, and you barely just catch a glimpse of the amused grin that flickers across his lips. “Better get to work, sailor, you’ve got a lot of late nights ahead of you.” 

As it turns out, building a raft from scratch isn’t as easy as it looks. 

Only a few planks of wood tied together and something to function as a sail would be needed, you’d thought. Simple design, easy to carry out, that’s why it was the go-to survival plan for being stranded at sea. 

But when you have to scrounge for the wood yourself, because somehow this lighthouse doesn’t even have spare logs lying around for firewood, things become substantially more difficult. Thankfully, you’d been taught how to chop lumber in your youth- a friendly face when you’d first been out on your own, a skill you’d never forgotten. That doesn’t stop it from being absolutely gruelling work, though. Especially when you then have to haul those very same logs you’ve felled from the forest to the beach. And then try to tie them together with the rope you’ve managed to salvage from one of the busted lower floors of the lighthouse. 

In a turn of fate, Chuuya ends up being more helpful than you first expect of him- considering how he’d treated you upon first meeting. It’s still abrasive, clipped speech and thinly veiled insults, but it’s help. You’ll take it. 

Besides, he’s not all bad.

You catch him one night finally settling down to sleep long after you, having stayed up late to do… well, he’d never quite told you. He pads into the room quietly, and you assume that he’ll immediately head to his side and fall asleep without any fuss. That’s what he’s been doing lately, and it’s not like you’ve any reason to expect anything different. 

And yet this time, he stops. 

After a few moments of quiet, you feel a soft weight drape across your body and then the footsteps retreat at last. A blanket rests atop you now, something to fend off the harsh chill of the breeze that cuts into the bedroom from the lower levels of the lighthouse. You don’t know where he found it, you’re sure you scoured this building top to bottom for things like this, but you’re certainly not about to complain. 

It’s small things like this that remind you that Chuuya is just out here trying to survive, just like you. It wasn’t his fault he got stuck with you here, and all things considered he’s taken to your new forced dynamic as well as he could. 

If you’d been thrust into the same position, you know you wouldn’t have taken things in stride the way he has. It was one thing to have been washed ashore upon an island in the middle of nowhere with no way to escape when it was your own seafaring misdeeds that had brought you here. It’s another entirely to have been going about your day as normal only to have been plucked right from it and dropped into this situation by somebody else. 

Even so, he doesn’t seem to hate you. Not really. 

He may make the odd quip that seems purposefully vicious, a jab here and there designed to hit hard, but it’s just for show. At least, that’s what the hidden smiles formed from exasperated laughs when he thinks you aren’t looking seem to tell you. The playful gripes that weave their way in with the hounding until the entire ordeal feels like something far more endearing. 

Chuuya’s just trying to get by, you think, the same as you. When this is all over, you’ll likely never see one another again- and that’s fine. But you’re still glad that he’s trying to make things somewhat pleasant in the meantime. 

One of the few pleasantries of being stranded out in the midst of nowhere is certainly the scenery. A small island like this is the best place to find views unlike any other, to see the beach and the sea spread out in front of you like a feast for the eyes, a veritable buffet of colour and feeling. 

The sand crunches between your toes with each step, your shoes swinging gently in your grasp, and the feeling of fresh sea air is as refreshing to your senses as it always has been. 

You can practically taste the salt upon your tongue as you reach the waves, the timid little things lapping at your toes in cautious flowing motions. Gulls cry overhead, desperate shrieks that sound like home. 

As you stand there at the edge of the water, you look out to the horizon. 

It takes the breath from your lungs with ease. Such a grand sight, the ocean stretching out endlessly in front of you, reflecting the array of reds and golds, pinks and purples that paint the sky in the wake of the sun. Spots of white twinkle where the light hits at its strongest, and the unfathomable depths of the water already feel like the blanket of night that is set to descend. 

And then something moves, breaks the gentle cresting of waves. 

A fin, by the looks of it. Large, but bright; a striking orange shade you’ve yet to see on any sort of shark. 

It slices through the water effortlessly and then dips back below the surface once more, proof of its existence only found in the ripples that fade out from the epicentre of the breach. 

This creature, whatever it is, is a hunter. Skilled and deadly, if the silent precision of its movements is anything to go by. 

You step back, your toes suddenly far less safe this close to the tides, and hold your breath in anticipation. Whatever is lurking beyond the shoreline, close enough for you to see it so clearly, is new. It’s dangerous. 

Despite your self-preservation instincts screaming out to retreat as fast as you can into the safety of the lighthouse, you are so very intrigued. 

But the mysterious being never resurfaces. 

One beat, and then another, you hold on just to see. Just in case. 

Perhaps it had noticed you and is now in hiding, just as bemused by your existence as you have been by it. Maybe it is biding its time, sizing you up as its next potential prey. It was certainly large enough to make swift work of you. If you had been unlucky enough not to spy it beforehand, you could very well have become its next meal. 

Or, perhaps, it had simply swam away. 

Before you have the chance to dwell on it for much longer, your new begrudging acquaintance is approaching. Bucket in hand, which sways to and fro as he walks, you are met with a bewildered look. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“I was bored,” you explain. “I came out to see where you’d gotten off to.”

“There are more fish down by the cliffs,” Chuuya says, jutting his free thumb over his shoulder for emphasis. “I went over to catch them.”

The bucket is practically bursting with fresh fish, some still writhing as the light of their life is snuffed under the intensity of the beating sun. It’s difficult to ignore the gleam of red that lies embedded within the grooves of the wood, as though some of the poor creatures were caught by something far more violent than a simple fishing line, but you’re not granted the opportunity to dwell upon it when Chuuya walks past you, lugging them along with him towards the lighthouse. 

“I’m impressed,” you call out, jogging to catch up with him. “You caught a lot, there’s enough here to feed us for at least a week.” 

“I told you,” he shrugs, “there were more of them over there.” 

As you get inside and start to help him prepare the fish to store them away for the week’s meals, salt-curing the ones you didn’t plan to eat that day, your mind wanders back to the creature you had seen upon the beach. 

“Hey,” you speak up, “do you think we’re really alone on this island?”

“Of course we aren’t,” Chuuya scoffs, deboning one of the fish in a singular fluid motion. “There’s a forest, there’s bound to be all sorts lurking where we can’t see them.” 

“I mean something sentient- “ you throw your hands down dramatically, small particles of salt flying across the room from the motion- “something big. Not just little bunnies or whatever in the woods.” 

“Why are you convinced there’s something out there?”

“I saw something at the beach. A creature, in the water.” 

“A shark?”

“No, this was different. I’ve never seen something like it before.”

“Whatever it is, I’m feeding you to it first.” Chuuya rolls his eyes, tossing the last of the fish onto the tray to move to the storeroom.

“And here I thought we were finally making progress,” you sigh dramatically. With a cheeky smile and exaggeratedly batted lashes, you turn back to him. “You really wouldn’t save me from the big scary sea monster?” 

“Nope,” he hums, hauling the tray into his grasp and walking out of the kitchen. He throws one last glance over his shoulder towards you, a grin playing upon his lips. “You’re on your own, sailor.”

A few days later, you find yourself making decent progress on your escape plan. 

The raft is all but ready in terms of the base materials. You’d spent the best part of a whole week cutting down enough trees to provide sizeable logs that will bind together to float two people- with a little help from Chuuya along the way- and now the next step would be to try and assemble them all. 

With any luck, you’d be done in only a few more days. 

That is, at least, if you didn’t keep running out of rope. 

The lengths you have managed to scavenge from inside the lighthouse are heavy, but deceptively short. By the time you wind them securely around two logs, it’s all but run out. Which leaves you running back in and out of the building more frequently than you’d like to as you try to work in order to look for more. 

On one of your trips, you don’t notice that Chuuya has decided to sit horizontally across the platform that joins one floor to the next, taking a rest from his own duties. 

Before you realise what’s happening, your weight has been displaced from under you. Arms splaying out to brace your fall, the rope you’d been holding tangles itself around you and makes for a whole new level of accident as you tumble your way back down the stairs. 

Luckily enough for you, the plateaus between each floor are rather wide- so you don’t end up falling all the way back down to a lower level. Not to mention, leaving the ordeal with nothing more in terms of injury than an ache in your lower back, though you just know it’ll persist for the rest of the day. 

“You should look where you’re going,” snickers Chuuya, looking down at you with an amused simper. He goes to hold out a hand to help you up, but you petulantly bat it away. 

“You shouldn’t have been in the way!” you exclaim with an exaggerated pout, folding your arms across your chest and huffing. “Who even sits on the stairs like that?” 

“I thought you were out working on the raft.” 

“I was, but I came back to find some more rope.” 

“Seems like you’re really tied up with that,” he jibes. 

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten halfheartedly, picking yourself back up off the floor. 

It’s more of a hassle to get yourself out of the mess of ropes you’ve dropped than it was to stand, and you find yourself stumbling around the plethora of loops in some haphazard sort of dance as you struggle to maintain your balance. 

“Here,” Chuuya says, “you’re going to fall again if you keep that up.” 

His hand comes to your shoulder to make you stop moving, and the other grabs onto the rope and starts to untangle you. On instinct, you cling to his forearms for stability. 

They’re tense to the touch, firm, but you don’t get much of a chance to focus on them as you’re instructed to lift your leg so that you can step out of a particularly perplexing knot that had made its way all the way around your knee. The tips of his fingers brush against your thigh as he slides the rope from your body and an involuntary chill passes down your spine. 

Something about this current proximity brings a searing heat to your chest, and the gentle look that he gives you when his gaze flits back up to check on you holds enough power to still your damned heart entirely. 

He’s far more caring than he gives himself credit for. 

Even now, as he mumbles under his breath about how ‘we’re never going to get off this island if you keep playing with the ropes instead of helping build the raft’, his touch is so tender and cautious. Making sure that you’re entirely safe before he takes a step back starts to loop the rope around his arms to make it easier to carry. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, taking the rope back off him.

“Of course,” he nods. “Now, get to work sailor. I’ll go hunt for tonight’s meal.”

With the raft mostly ready, but a bad rainfall hitting for a handful of nights in a row, it takes several more days until you’re next able to head out to the beach to work on it. 

You let yourself get up a little later that day than you have been, a luxury you grant to yourself knowing how near you are to your goal. Only a few hours of work at the most if you apply yourself- and even less if you can cajole Chuuya into giving you a hand. He’s far more agreeable now than he first was, and more often than not you barely even need to bully him into helping you out these days.

Running into Chuuya on the beach as you step out is a welcome surprise. 

When he leaves before you in the mornings, he tends to spend the majority of the day fishing or in the forests scavenging. Either way, he ends up entirely out of your sight and you tend to not see him until you’re ready to prepare food for the night. 

Now, he’s sat by the edge of the shoreline. A stretch of hope assumes he might be there waiting for you, but as you step closer you see that he seems oddly… elsewhere.

He’s taken his hair down from the low ponytail you’re used to seeing, ginger strands splayed across his shoulders like a waterfall, slightly damp from the fresh sea air. 

Salt clings to your tongue as you watch him quietly, settles in your throat and keeps you silent, savouring the peaceful moment. 

The muscles of his bare back tense and contract as he shifts, not incredibly defined but prominent enough to know that he clearly must be strong. He leans forwards, fingers dipped into the water below his makeshift seat upon a large flat rock. It ripples out from the point of contact, tiny little disturbances that flow and change as his hands brush through the liquid. 

There is a contemplative rhythm to his movements, as though he’s deep in thought. Pensive, you think, is the best descriptor for it. Somewhere lost between wistful and sad. 

Chuuya’s sights are set firm on the horizon in the distance, the sun dipping low and painting the sky orange in its wake. You wonder briefly what he must be thinking about. 

An idle crab wanders past your feet and you walk around it carefully, not wanting to risk a nipped toe whilst you’re out here. The last thing you need whilst you’re trying to get off this island is something that stops you for a while. 

But now that your angle is adjusted, a few steps forwards and to the side, you can take in the full sight of what is in front of you. 

No longer does Chuuya have the steady pair of legs you had accidentally barrelled over the other day. In their place lies a mesmerising fishtail, scales of orange and white and black dappling the surface reminiscent of the koi fish you have seen on travels to the Caspian Sea. Each one reflects the light, iridescent and shimmering, practically twinkling like the night sky under the radiant sun. 

The shape, however, is unlike any of the typical fish you have seen in your lifetime. This is larger by far, tapering towards the end, extending out past the rockpools and swaying idly in the water, more akin to some sort of eel or sea-snake. 

A webbed caudal fin splays out at the tip just above the water’s surface, stirring up tiny waves that froth and foam and fade away, ochre spines thick and long and extending out past the membrane to curl softly at the ends. It’s easily as big as your torso and as broad as your armspan, if not moreso, not to mention the several feet of tail that it is attached to. 

“Wow,” you breathe out quietly, coherency lost to you as you watch each subtle shift of Chuuya’s tail. 

He startles at the sound of you, a loud splash as he scrambles back from the water and onto the beach. As the scales begin to dry off from the tailfin up, they shrink and morph back into human flesh, until two bare legs greet you once more. 

It is now that you realise what has been piled beside him, what you had assumed at first glance were simply more rocks, or perhaps some loose seaweed. Chuuya’s clothes are folded neatly, shoes resting on top to weight them down, and he is entirely bare before you. 

“What?” he snaps. A scarlet blush buds on his cheeks and blossoms along the entire length of his body, betraying his tone. “This the first time you’ve seen a guy naked, or something?”

You avert your eyes, though the temptation to take another peek is almost overwhelming. “You caught me off-guard, is all.”

“I caught you off-guard?” he laughs. “You’re the one sneaking up on people on the beach.”

The scoff of retort you were about to release quickly gives way to a sigh. “Okay, you’ve got me there. I just didn’t want to interrupt you. You looked… peaceful.”

“I was just thinking,” he says.

“About home?” you ask.

Chuuya laughs. “I don’t have a home.”

“Everyone has a home.”

“Well, where’s yours?”

“Hm.” You pause. “Can I turn around yet, or are you still just weirdly naked behind me?”

“You’re good.”

Chuuya is still in the process of slipping his arms through the sleeves of his shirt when you turn to face him, and you’re stilled by the sight of a few stray water droplets rolling down his stomach. The sunlight beating down from above bends and twinkles and reflects the image of those pretty orange scales back towards you in each trailing drip, as though even the slightest contact with the water is enough to spark his transformation. 

His lips are pursed in concentration as his head pops up through the collar of the shirt and you can’t deny that you’re almost disappointed in how the rest of the fabric falls across his skin and obscures it from view. 

And then you’re hit for the second time as he grabs hold of his hair ribbon and places it between his teeth, keeping casual eye contact with you when he gathers up the loose ginger strands and ties them back into place. 

There’s only one thought running through your mind- he’s beautiful.

“Well, come on then. Out with it.” He stands where he is, in stasis with his hair half-tied, hands still stretched back behind his head. 

You have to force yourself to snap out of your distraction to finally respond with a half-assed “what?”

“Your home, tell me about it.” 

“I don’t remember a lot about my home,” you admit. “I’ve been on my own for a while, going wherever the sea takes me. I’ve spent time with crews on ships here and there, travellers and explorers, researchers and the like, but none of it ever felt right. So I’d always end up alone again.”

“Anyway,“ you interject yourself suddenly, barely allowing Chuuya the chance to process your words, “what about you?”

“I don’t have a home.” He turns away from you, finally lets go of his hair and looks out towards the horizon. “But I found people, and they’re good to me. I like being with them.” 

A wistful ache tugs in your chest at his words, how clearly dichotomous his life is to your own. “That sounds nice.” 

“It is,” he nods. “I… miss them, sometimes.” 

“We’ll get you back to them,” you vow. “I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Do you have anywhere to go once we’re off this island?” 

“I’ll probably keep travelling. I’m going to stick to the land for a while though, I think. Don’t particularly want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere and accidentally summon any more eldritch gods, you know?” 

Your speech is light, tinged with gentle laughter, but you can’t hide the way that your inflection cracks at the end. You only hope that Chuuya doesn’t catch on to it, or at least that he will choose to ignore it. 

You don’t know him well enough to be acting this vulnerable. He’s still a stranger to you at the end of the day. A stranger who has abilities far beyond your comprehension, who isn’t even human. 

And yet, he’s been more realistic with you in the past few weeks than anyone you’ve ever met. Everyone has an agenda, a reason to strike up a conversation with you. He’s no different- you’re supposed to be helping him get out of here. But despite all of that, there is something so undeniably relieving about his presence, especially in the quieter moments like this. Something that, try as you might to tell yourself otherwise, makes you feel comfortable. 

Besides, for being the vessel of an eldritch being, he’s not exactly been intimidating towards you. In fact, he’s been downright kind through all of this. Helpful, co-operative, like it’s his natural state of existence. Like he needs to be useful like this with others. It’s sweet, and you can definitely see why he’s the type of person to prefer other peoples’ company if he’s like this. 

Chuuya laughs, an unrefined sort of noise that sounds far more natural than the times he’s chuckled teasingly at you before. There’s a little snort to the end of it as he tries to stop himself, and an embarrassed flush to his cheeks as he realises you’ve just witnessed this. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that any time soon.”

Three more weeks pass before you’re finally content that the little sailboat you’ve put together is sea-ready. The decision to try and upgrade the initial from a raft to something more sturdy had pushed your escape date further back than either of you had wanted, but it was acquiesced at the potential that this way you were more likely to actually make it off the island and far enough to reach land- or at the very least some other ship that could help. 

When you first tried to float the raft you’d built, the poor thing was barely suited for the type of journey you’d need to make. Even in the slightest of breezes, it swished this way and that upon the water, barely controllable. There was nowhere to keep hold of any rations you’d have to bring with you for the trip- who knew just how long you’d end up at sea before you come across any more land? Worst of all, despite your efforts to make the floor of the raft large enough, you’d still ended up practically sat on top of one another when you’d set up for your test run. 

But now you had something better, stronger, more resilient to face the turbulent sea and come out of the other side of it unscathed. 

Or, at least, that’s what you’d both thought. 

The little boat you’d put together was surprisingly well-made considering your limited resources, and it had held strong for the first ten minutes of rowing out. As the island grew smaller and smaller behind you, you’d even let yourself imagine that maybe just maybe this time would be the one that worked. 

Angering the spirits of the skies seems to be something you’re uncannily good at, without even trying. A storm, fiercer even than the one that you’d faced that had landed you on that island in the first place, strikes up with a deadly intention. Lightning flashes and thunder roars, and even the sea itself is in fear of their power as it whips and frenzies in an attempt to escape their wrath. 

Your poor craft is caught in the middle, tossed from side to side until it fractures and cracks. 

The rain no longer merely kisses your cheeks. It spits and slashes, stinging your skin and biting into everything it can reach. 

Making a pair of oars for both yourself and Chuuya was a godsend now in hindsight, as it gives you a better semblance of control as you force your boat to stay upright even with the water that rushes in from a gash along the side. His arms gleam with each new flash of lightning from above, iridescent scales making themselves forcefully known as they abrase the fabric of his clothes. 

Though his shins have been folded below his thighs as he kneels to get more traction with the oars, by now it’s no surprise when you start to see the flexing orangey tips of a tail poking out from behind him. 

The water starts to lap higher and higher along the sides of your sinking ship, and distant waves crash ever closer, building up ever taller. If the storm doesn’t ease up soon, it won’t be the integrity of your boat you have to worry about. 

It’ll be the water itself that claims you. 

“Listen,” you say tersely, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “If uh… we don’t get out of here… I just want you to know. It’s not been all that bad being stuck with you.”

“We’re going to be fine,” Chuuya promises. He goes to reach out to place a hand on your knee comfortingly, but another oncoming wave has him recoiling back to grasp his oar harder. “You don’t get to get rid of me that easily, you know.” 

One incredible rush of water comes up like a goliath, hulking its way towards the boat with a deafening roar that pierces through your eardrums and reverberates against your very soul. You can feel it consuming you internally before it even reaches you, and you’re thrown into the depths with the most ungodly of crashes. 

Something whacks against your side, probably a part of the boat as it fractures underneath the pressure of the tidal wave that’s assaulted you. It screams pain through your body, numbs out your brain until you can’t think straight, close to blacking out. 

In the distance, as you force yourself to maintain consciousness and desperately kick your legs to bring yourself up to the surface, you think you hear a familiar voice cry out. 

When you feel like the last of the air is leaving your lungs, another hefting weight slams you up to the surface. 

It almost feels like you’ve come face to face with the afterlife. Everything’s too bright, too painful, and the view that greets you as you slowly peel your eyes open, rain still falling slick down your cheeks, is something you’d never encounter in the mortal realm. 

Chuuya is the one who’s saved you, that much is clear. 

But he looks different, in more than the senses you’ve grown used to. This is more severe than the simple manifestation of a mer’s tail that you witnessed weeks prior. 

This is something ancient, dangerous, the type of creature you hear horror stories about from passing tradesmen. 

Fins run the full length of his back, and the outline of several more protrude from where his ears and hair used to be. You can’t make out any clear details, especially not with your head tucked against his collar like this, but it is incredibly clear that he is no simple mer in this moment. 

His hands are webbed now too, thick membrane joining fingers that are clawed and dangerous. The scales that litter the edges of his palms are rough like sandpaper as he grasps onto you, biting into your flesh and leaving small abrasions in their wake. 

You cling to his shoulders as he drags you up to the surface, forcing your head above the water to take a sharp inhale of air. It rushes into your lungs like lava, setting your body ablaze as you gasp and splutter. 

And it hits you. This is what you saw that day at the beach, not the subtle transformation you had witnessed days later. 

This is a version of Chuuya at the peak of his eldritch influence, so far changed that he barely seems the same man whom you accidentally summoned to your side all those weeks ago. And yet, it is still so unequivocally him before you now. 

Though it isn’t easy to see him under the quickly falling blanket of night, he feels like the man you know. It is something intangible, unexplainable, and overwhelmingly real. 

Bobbing above the water like this, you can finally see more of the man in front of you as you try to stay afloat. You already know that this is more than the form you had seen in the rockpools, monstrous in comparison, but he is astoundingly beautiful in a way you can’t quite comprehend. 

Chuuya’s irises have narrowed into slits and his eyes are framed with more scales, spreading out across his forehead and cheeks, all the way up to his hairline and around to where his ears used to be. They are the same dark orange of his tail, but the edges of these scales are lined with a deep crimson that catches the occasional flashing of light like blood. 

In place of his ears sit two fins, similar in shape to his tail, but smaller and thinner, translucent and pinkish in the rising moonlight. His hair has been replaced by these as well, gossamer-looking fins that scintillate and lay like bunches of silk all the way down past his chin.

Upon his neck, below the jawline, a set of gills idly flex open and shut as he breathes. His teeth are sharp as well, barely contained within mostly-human lips. They peek diamond-esque out of his maw, like the enticing light of an anglerfish in the deep. 

Weaving across his torso are familiar red markings, though rougher around the edges than the smooth carvings in the lighthouse, jagged and visceral like scars cutting into his flesh, these are without a doubt the same sort of glyphs and runes you had been surrounded by for the last month. The skin here is thicker- calloused like the rest of him, but not as rough as the scalier areas- a thin salty sheen catching the starlight and making him all but glow in front of you now. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, voice lower and harsher, like the words find themselves trapped in this body. “Didn’t want you to see this.”

“It’s okay,” you say, hands bracing themselves against his chest as you keep one another afloat. You run the pad of your thumb across his pectoral, water slicking below your touch and running in a rivulet past your nail. Quieter, with tenderness as you meet his troubled gaze, you repeat, “it’s okay.”

You dip closer and press a comforting kiss to his cheek, surprised by how cool the rough skin feels on your lips. Around you both, tiny star-studded waves lap at your sides and keep you swaying gently upon the water’s surface. Like a dance in its own way, slow and intimate, and the fond look in Chuuya’s dark slitted eyes beckons you with all the allure of a siren guiding you towards your final perfomance. 

“You’re strange,” Chuuya says quietly, breaking the silence. “You aren’t scared.”

“Why would I be scared of you?”

The sharp rows of teeth peeking out from behind his lips practically gleam in the moonlight, large and powerful. They could bite through you in a single, swift movement, with no resistance even against your bones. 

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

You drift ever closer, until your chests bump together. Your nose brushes past his own, lips less than a hairsbreadth away. This close, you can feel the erratic beating of his heart, and you’re certain he can feel yours in turn. 

“Because I know you won’t hurt me.”

“I’ve hurt people.”

With a steadfast deliberation to your movements, you reach up to cradle the sides of Chuuya’s face and press your lips onto his. Just once, pulling away as quickly as you had swooped in, but affirmingly, leaving him endearingly bewildered as he stares at you like you’ve sprouted a second head. 

“You won’t hurt me.” You release a breath, shakier than you’d like it to be, and shift your hands down along his arms until you reach his webbed hands. “Come on, let’s get back to shore.”

Clumps of seaweed try to cling to your ankles as you’re guided back to land. The injury you’d sustained from the crash can’t be anything serious if you’re still able to kick your legs like this to keep yourself afloat, now no more than a tentative hand on your back from Chuuya to make sure you’re still with him, but it’s still enough to slow you down and tire you out faster. 

It’s a slow swim. Arduous, even. 

The large presence at your side is soothing. Chuuya is colder than he has been when you’ve made contact in the past, in part due to the rain still pounding from above and the other part due to his more monstrous form at present. Occasionally, an exposed patch of your skin brushes against his and it’s rough, enough to make you grimace with how otherwise tender you feel right now, but you’d take it over a potential lack of company. 

“Thank you,” you utter when you finally see the shoreline coming close. “I think I might be dead without you.” 

You don’t get a response, but Chuuya’s arm moves from behind you to encircling you, squeezing lightly. Like he doesn’t quite want to face the fact that, yes, you really could have perished out there. You suppose you shouldn’t dwell on it too much, either.

As you haul yourself onto the sand, you notice that Chuuya deliberately tries to slip from your grasp. He frowns at you, though it’s far more toothy than you expect it to be, and it seems more like he is just… staring. 

“You can’t change back.”

He shakes his head. The upper half of his body has started to dry, and yet not a single scale has returned to flesh. As if stubbornly proving his point, the thick lines of red that cross his chest glow brighter. 

“Too hard,” he rasps. “Went too far.”

“You’re going to be okay, right?” you ask. “You will change back eventually… right?” 

“It’s never been this bad.” 

He’s distressed, though he’s trying to hide it. You can tell in the way that he keeps looking over your shoulder, not quite bringing himself to make eye contact. In how he shifts uncomfortably within your arms and leans towards the sea, desperate to reach somewhere that he can escape from this situation. 

“We can worry about it later,” you declare quietly, pressing a deliberate kiss to his forehead. “For now…”

A contemplative hum leaves you as a new issue arises. You glance over your shoulder towards the lighthouse, then back to Chuuya, who watches you with his eyes narrowed in curiosity. 

“Do you need any food? Or… anything?” 

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to be able to do much to help you whilst it’s so dark out. I should head inside, and we can figure something out in the morning.”

A more aggressive shake, a firmer “no.”

“No?” you echo. “You want me to stay out here? I can get some sheets from the lighthouse and sleep on the beach.”

“No!” 

“Stop saying ‘no’! What do you want from me, Chuuya?” 

“Stay with me.” 

“I will,” you say, “but I can’t do that if you don’t let me sleep on the beach.”

“It’s not safe for you out here,” he says. 

“So, what do you suggest?”

His gaze shifts towards the lighthouse and you stare at him blankly for a moment as you process just what he’s insinuating. 

“You want me to carry you inside? Seriously? You’re going to be heavy!” 

“You can do it,” he states. “I know you can.”

“I don’t like you right now,” you huff, stepping towards the shoreline. Taking a knee, you offer your arms out to heave him up onto the land. “Come on then, let’s get this over with.” 

He’s unfathomably heavy, but you’ve gained a unique set of skills over the past few months- namely, dragging massive bulking trees across the island. Though he’s bigger than any log you’ve had to haul to date, the technique is mostly the same. Lift from the knees, don’t put your back into it too much, take advantage of the soft shifting sand below to readjust when you need to. The bulk of his weight is balanced around his upper body, so even though the length of his tail is utterly tremendous, you find its no more hassle than some sort of trailing veil. 

“So,” you say after a moment, “what’s with the blunt speech, anyway? I noticed you’re even more straightforward than normal.”

“This form,” Chuuya explains, “isn’t for talking. It hurts.” 

“Oh,” you say, “I didn’t realise. You don’t have to keep talking if it’s too much for you.” 

“Worth it,” he says, “for you.” 

Getting to the lighthouse itself is a little more of a struggle, namely trying to drag him up the stairs to reach the washroom. With the wooden banisters, he’s able to support himself better without your assistance- which allows you room to breathe and rest. But for all you’ve taken this very same trip on the regular, it seems to stretch on immeasurably now. 

You take a small break upon one of the plateaus between floors, resting back against the wall to catch your breath. Your muscles ache and burn, and the thwacking you’d taken from the capsizing boat earlier starts to throb from all the latent flooding adrenaline in your system, but you can’t give up just yet. There’s nothing you’ve learned from all of this lately if not how to be incredibly resilient. 

“I feel like,” you say between heaves, trying to break the tension in the silence that has descended, “I’m trying to sneak you past my parents, or something, like a kid. Silly, huh?”

Chuuya hums quietly, as if he doesn’t really share the sentiment, and you have to wonder for a moment just how much of a childhood he was really allowed to have. Being a human vessel for an oceanic eldritch deity since you’re barely fresh from infancy probably isn’t conducive to a warm and fulfilling life.

Though he hasn’t divulged much about his past to you, you’re sure it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. He seems happy enough with his place in life now- with the Port Mafia crew, if you remembered correctly- but whether he had been with them this whole time or not is unknown to you. 

You’re sure he’ll tell you whenever he’s ready. He’s opened up to you enough lately as it is. 

Finally picking yourselves up again, the washroom is reached at last and you start to run the water in the tub so that Chuuya doesn’t have to worry about drying out. 

“Do you know if that… actually will affect you whilst you’re like this?” Your question earns a uncertain headshake. “Well. Better safe than sorry, right?”

The running water echoes in your ears as it sploshes around the tub. There won’t be enough to cover Chuuya entirely, but it’ll be adequate at least. By the time he’s in and the fluid has a chance to displace around him, it’ll work. He’s mostly quiet as you finish up, and you don’t even have to help him to lift up and lower into the tub when you’re done. There’s a bit of a far-off guilty look in his eyes as he sits there at first, as though he’s feeling bad about you having to be here like this. 

“I like this side of you,” you admit quietly, idly trailing your fingertips across the scales on his upper arm. “You’re not as mean… and more honest.” 

That earns you a splashing of water, a loud thud echoing through the room as the ends of his tail thwack against the walls of the tub. 

“Alright, you’re just as mean!” you gasp out as the coldness hits you all at once, blinking droplets out of your eyes. 

Flashing his sharp fangs at you, Chuuya is smiling now; giving you the best approximation of a self-satisfied smirk that he can manage. 

He looks utterly ridiculous crammed into the tub in the washroom. It’s surprisingly spacious, really, especially considering it’s part of a lighthouse that clearly didn’t see regular use- just not when an oversized eldritch mermaid is occupying it. 

“You know, we could have stayed on the beach,” you chuckle, perched on a stool near the side of the bath. “But someone insisted I take him indoors because I wasn’t allowed to stay outside at night or leave him alone.” 

“It’s fine,” he insists. 

The constant fidgeting tells you otherwise. In your peripheral you catch the idle shifting of his caudal fin like that time you had seen him at the beach. The muscles of his upper arms flex and contract as he tries to keep his torso comfortably upright. His hands, webbed as they are and far less than suitable for their current task, grip tight to the edges to keep him from sinking too far into the tub. 

“It’s clearly not,” you note, trying to keep your tone light and non-confrontational. Sparking up an argument right now wouldn’t do the situation any good, and would probably only leave Chuuya in a worse state than he already is. “Please, if there’s anything I can do to help. Let me.” 

“Anything?” he repeats quietly, almost shy at the prospect of whatever he has in mind. 

Perhaps the room has heated up too much from the bath you’ve drawn, because your head starts to spin at the realisation of such a complete lack of proximity between the pair of you. It hadn’t been a problem before, when you had been so focused on making sure Chuuya would be safe. Now, at his insistence, at the situation unfolding between you, it’s hard to ignore the fact that you have your knee pressed up against the thick muscle of his tail. That he is bringing a clawed fingertip towards your shirt, hooking against the fabric and pulling you closer. 

That he has brought your face towards his, and that you can now see every single smattered red freckle that has persisted upon his cheeks through his change of appearance. Every individual scale, each of which shift hues so subtly in the dim candlelight of the washroom, sparkling at you enticingly, urging you to lean in. 

He stops you before you’re too close, splays out the hand that was holding onto you so that it spreads across your chest. “You can say no.” 

“I know,” you nod eagerly. “I don’t want to, though.” 

Chuuya’s mouth is cold as you press your lips to his, the sudden sensation almost enough to make you withdraw quickly. But something snaps in the moment that you connect, a tension that has broiled away for the better part of a few months. 

The first kiss you share is tentative, cautious. The next is hungry, impassioned, and your shirt is being fisted once more as Chuuya tries to bring you closer, to the point that you’re practically hanging over the edge of the washtub, nearly falling in. You bring your arms out to steady yourself, bracing against his shoulders, clinging onto him. 

“You sure you don’t want to be comfier?” you ask, thinking of the way you’d seen him shuffling only moments prior. “This can’t be nice for you.”

“Don’t care,” he says, stealing a third kiss from you, “not anymore.” 

He must be fine, you think, by the way that he takes hold of your hip with his free hand and pulls you onto him. Your own earlier injury declares its continued existence through a prolonged throb, but it’s the last thing on your mind when something else starts to stir within your core. 

The water in the tub splashes up your thighs, soaks your knees, drenches your clothes thoroughly as you fall onto his chest. You don’t miss the way his slitted eyes trail along the folds of wet fabric, keenly observing how it now clings against your skin and outlines your figure. If you weren’t in such a compromising position, you could be fooled into thinking the look he gives you is that of a hunter seeking out its prey, ravenous, and you are his prized meal.

If there had been any lingering doubt in your mind before about the creature you’d seen at the beach weeks ago, this was by far your most decisive proof. 

“This might be a bad idea,” you say between each feverish kiss, but Chuuya is desperate in the way that he clings to you, claws skimming the fabric of your shirt and threatening to tear it to shreds. 

“I want you,” he says simply. Kisses you again.

And you’re not exactly in a position to argue with him when he has you all but pinned to his body like this, one arm snaked around your waist and the other still pressed in between you, firmly sunk against the flesh of your chest. Not that you’d want to anyway, you think, as heat swells in your stomach and a fervent desire pleasantly clouds your mind. 

“Okay,” you agree against his mouth. “I’m yours.” 

Your declaration seems to spark something feral within the eldritch mer, fiercer than the behavious he’d already exhibited, and far more exhilarating. One of his claws tears into the fabric of your shirt and rends the poor thing straight off of your form, the remains falling off your shoulders and into the tub below the pair of you. 

Having your body exposed to him like this is thrilling, a chill running along your spine as he takes hold of your flesh within his large hands and squeezes tentatively. A rough thumb runs across the bud of your nipple and it rouses at the touch, pebbling in the cool air of the washroom. His mouth finds your neck, tongue lathing along your throat, making you arc forwards into his touch. 

“Can I?” he asks hoarsely, hand stopped just above where you need it most, and you grind down against the pad of his fingers in response. 

“Please,” you whine, “I need you.” 

The pressure of his thumb against your clit is fucking heaven as he brings his mouth back to yours and kisses you hard. The heady intoxication of sex in the air combined with the powerful friction brings you close to your first orgasm far quicker than you could have expected. And yet, despite his clear thirst for you, Chuuya manages to take his time to fully coax that first tantric climax from you. It bubbles up slowly, quietly, blossoming from your core until your entire being is consumed by flames, hot and heavy, and so damn good. 

He isn’t neccessarily skilled or not at the act, in fact you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s only done this a handful of times before- and most likely not at all in this current state of being. But there is a abstruse emotion that dances with you as you move together, reaches its peak with you and flows out between you. It wouldn’t matter even if he was bad at this, you think. It’s simply the fact that it’s him making you feel this way that has everything so very heightened. 

The same man you’ve spent the past few months with such a budding tension growing between you, who you’ve shared late night talks with and vulnerable conversations- even though he’d been so standoffish with you upon first meeting. You’d gotten to know him, as much as he’d let you. And he had in turn learned about you. 

Sure, part of it feels like it was a necessity to ensure your continued survival on this island- there’s no way you’d have made as much progress on your inevitable escape if you’d continued to be at odds- but you won’t deny that it feels like so much more than that. 

And that is why, as you come for the first time that night, crying out your partner’s name as your nails find scaled flesh and dig in tight, riding out your high against those thick rough fingers, you are already so very desperate to seek out more. 

Continuing to grind against his hand as your afterglow washes across you, thoughtless movements that ebb and flow and pulse your orgasm away with them, you shift to balance yourself against his chest with your palms. 

The new angle brings about a new sensation with it, something warm and hard pushing against your ass. His cock has released itself from the confines of the slit it was previously tucked away in, still humanlike in size but textured with ridges and bumps that press into your skin and give you a precursor of what’s to come. 

It’s not huge, but it certainly isn’t small either. And the prospect of being stuffed full of it is so very enticing. 

Indulgently, your hand slips between your bodies to take hold of the organ. 

To the touch, it’s far slicker than you’d expected, and Chuuya hisses at the sudden contact, his mouth finding your neck to stifle the noise. There’s a moment of pressure as his teeth graze your skin, and then a release, the sharp fangs puncturing the first few layers and drawing small wells of blood into your clavicle. It’s by no means deep enough to do any real damage to you, but it certainly causes you to gasp out in shock at the sensation, making you grip onto his cock harder. This in turn has him run his tongue against the wound, eliciting another salacious whine out of you. 

“Fuck,” you exhale, a bubbled laugh catching in your throat, “you’re rougher than I thought you’d be.”

“You thought?” he echoes, unable to quite bring himself away from you for long enough as his mouth finds your jaw, then your cheeks, then your lips again. 

“Mm.” You roll your hips down absently, indulging in his kiss, pulling away to pepper smaller ones across his cheeks. “I thought about it a lot recently, how this would feel. Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to be-” you run your fingertips across a small patch of scales- “quite like this. But I’m not complaining.” 

With his cock still in your hand, you move to align it underneath you. The anticipation of what you’re about to do builds within your chest, exciting, enthralling, and you pause right on the very precipice. 

“Is this okay?” you check. 

He nods.

“Alright, tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures, leaning in to place a kiss to your forehead. 

The tip alone is thicker than it looked, and it spreads you apart far more than his fingers had. Your jaw tenses as you try to adjust to the sensation, and Chuuya notices this. Leans down and kisses along the tightened muscle to try and soothe you, trailing absently along your neck and all the way back up again. 

“I can stop,” he mutters against your cheek. 

“Please don’t,” you beg. 

To prove your determination, you try to sink yourself down a little lower, and both of you keen out at the sensation. It had been a while since you’d had sex like this, a few months even before you’d been stranded out here let alone after, and the fullness is such a profound experience. 

Once the initial discomfort has passed, a euphoric bliss takes its place. 

Feeling bold enough to start moving, you set a slow pace. Lifting yourself up just a little, barely enough for him to really shift inside of you, but enough to feel that delicious drag of his cock in your cunt. The descent feels even better, the slight rub of your clit against the hard scales that surround his sex, and you let yourself sit there, speared by his full length, eyes shut tight to sink into the sensation. 

“You feel amazing,” you coo out, stealing a kiss as you move again. His hands come to your hips to keep you in place, purposefully gentler around your side injury. “Wanna make you feel good too.” 

Fucking Chuuya like this brings a warmth to your veins, holding onto one another like a lifeline as you clench around him and ride your way to another climax. It’s tantric, emotional, and every single thrust of your hips makes you feel closer to him in a way you’d never imagined. 

Your second orgasm starts to creep up on you unexpectedly. A combination of the perfect friction, the angle you’ve sat at where his cock curls against your g-spot each time you fuck down onto him, and the ardour that seeps into the air between you, all building up within you until you’re close to exploding. 

As it hits, you curl forwards into Chuuya, bracing yourself hard against his chest with your palms. He takes over the brunt of the work, gently fucking up into you as you pulse and throb around him. When his own climax peaks, he pulls from you, releasing onto your stomach with a breathy pant. The worst of it becomes one with the water you’re sat in, and you grimace at it briefly, knowing you’re going to need to change that out when you’re done. 

But for a moment, you can rest, basking in the afterglow of your sex. 

Empty now, but emotionally sated, you rest your head against Chuuya’s chest as his arms wrap around your torso. But it’s not to let you relax, you find, when he lifts you from below the arms and sits you down on the edge of the washtub. 

“What are you doing?” you giggle breathlessly, heart still pounding. 

“Want to taste you,” he says simply. 

Exactly how he plans to do that, you don’t understand at first. Until, that is, he picks you up again, firmly grasping your thighs to keep you stable, and shifts so that he is on his front and your back has been pressed up against the washroom wall. It’s freezing cold and your body jolts at the contact, but it is very quickly replaced with an overwhelming warmth when Chuuya dips between your thighs and kisses your clit. 

You’re still sensitive from the two orgasms you’ve already had, but that isn’t about to stop him. His tongue is hot as it flicks out to swipe along your folds, slowly, teasingly. He really is going to take his time to savour you, you think, and your head comes to fall back against the wall as your back arches forwards to lean into the friction. 

It feels like he’s swallowing you whole as his tongue eases into your cunt, so incredibly long and just textured enough to drag against your insides in the perfect way. The tips of his fangs graze across the outer skin of your pussy, gentle like he’s actively trying not to hurt you. Your hands find the back of his head and push him against you harder, working with his mouth to bring you to the edge once more. 

This orgasm takes longer to peak, even with how desperately you grind with him to reach it. The overstimulation in your core has all of your nerves feeling like raw electricity, frazzled and intense. 

When it hits, it courses through you slowly. Bubbles up from the pit of your stomach until it crescendoes into a bursting supernova, a cry of utter bliss falling from your lips like a holy mantra. A song of worship, all for the archonic mer that is settled between your legs, swallowing every last drop of your essence like its the first morsel of real food he’s ever had. 

There are tears welling up in the corners of your eyes as you come down from this third high of the night. Your hands don’t know where to put themselves as your spent energy dissipates into the musky, sex-steamed air of the washroom. You settle for idly running along the sides of Chuuya’s body as he pulls away and balances himself in front of you, chest to chest now. 

Traces of a glossy sheen linger around his mouth, and not from the water in the tub. It awakens something possessive in your soul, seeing parts of you across him like this. With the way his own eyes sweep the expanse of your body, it looks like he’s thinking the same thing about the marks from his teeth and claws that now litter your skin. 

“Was that good?” he asks, voice notably less raspy than it had been earlier but still tinged with something gravelly. 

“It was wonderful,” you chuckle. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and he holds you there just like that with him. The steady beating of his heart echoes in time with your own. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you,” he echoes with a grumbly laugh. “I needed that.” 

You press a kiss to the scaled skin beneath your lips and pull back. For just the smallest moment, everything feels so unimaginably right. 

Then the bruise on your side starts to pulse again. It has blackened now, a bristling purple that spreads across the tender skin like a cluster of flowers, made far worse from all the jostling about of the last hour or so. 

Now that you’re coming back down to reality, every muscle in your body seems to be aching tenfold. 

“I think I need to get some sleep,” you say lightly, giving a squeeze to his shoulders. “Are you going to be okay like this?”

“I’ll be fine,” he replies, leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Get some rest.” 

You clamber out of the washtub as adeptly as you can manage given your condition. Before you have the chance to leave him fully, Chuuya takes hold of your unhurt side and pulls you back. Spreads kisses along your neck and collarbone as he takes hold of one of the washcloths settled nearby and tries to clean you up. It’s a little difficult and unrefined with his hands webbed like they still are, but the effort is unbelievably sweet, and you let him do the best he can before you finish the job yourself. 

“Good night.” The tiles on the floor are cold as your damp feet press against them, and you jump a little at the contact, almost slipping and falling from the momentum. But you gather yourself up before Chuuya even has the chance to worry, laughing it off. “Yeah, I really need to go and rest, huh?”

As you turn back one last time, a sleepdrunk smile on your face, you could swear the eyes that gently smile back at you have more of a human gleam to them. 

It’s still dark when you first wake up, the faint silvery light of the moon idling through the porthole window above the dingy little mattress you’d settled on. Only a couple of hours had passed, but that didn’t seem too strange. Sleep has been a bit of an anomaly for you ever since you’d first washed ashore on this island. 

You find that you’re alone, which isn’t a surprise. After the events of last night, you’d dragged yourself back here to get some ample rest- but it feels almost too quiet on this level of the lighthouse. 

There’s no sound of moving water coming from the washroom, unlike how you had fallen asleep, and you bolt upright to check on Chuuya. 

Missing. The water in the tub has been thrown out and any mess that had splashed around is long gone from the bathtowels lining the floor, cleaned up deliberately. So he must at least be okay, but that doesn’t answer the more pressing question of just where he’s managed to run off to considering you’d had to haul him up here in the first place. 

Your search drives you out to the beaches, the most sensical place to look. The early morning sunlight starts to edge its way above the horizon, the post-storm air still just chilly enough to warrant you wrapping your arms around yourself to hold in your body heat. 

Below your bare toes, the top layer of sand shifts and molds itself to your footprints, clinging onto your skin each time you lift your feet. You’d lost your shoes to the storm, unfortunately, and hadn’t found the time to fashion yourself new ones between returning to land and the other… events that had unfolded the night prior.

You were right, though. He’s out here just as you had expected. With his back to you, looking out towards the horizon, the same way you’d found him near to the start of your time together. 

“Figures I’d find you out here,” you say loudly enough to alert Chuuya to your presence. “Did you even get any sleep?”

He sits the same way you’ve seen him before, legs morphed into a pretty tail as they lay submerged in the rockpools. Smaller than what you’d seen last night, more controlled. It’s a relief to see his eyes back to normal, lighting up upon sight of you as he turns around. In fact, his entire upper half is notably human again, and you can tell he’s just as relieved by the change as you are. 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

“That’s fine, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You step carefully around the sharp rocks and make your way to his side, sitting down and letting your toes dangle in the water. It’s cool, refreshing, and the view of the horizon stretched out as far as the eye can see before you makes the entire experience all the more relaxing. You can see why Chuuya likes to do this. 

His shoulder presses against yours at this proximity, but it’s pleasant, warm even, a nice contrast to the sensation of the flowing tides below. Impulsively, you give in to the urge to rest your head upon his shoulder. In turn, he rests his against you. 

“I’m glad you’re back to normal,” you say, hand finding his and fingers interlocking. “I was worried for you.” 

“I think you helped,” he admits. “I’ve never been stuck like that for so long, but you being around made it all feel like it wasn’t going to be the worst thing in the world if I couldn’t turn back.” 

“I’d have stayed with you, you know,” you confess, “if you had to stay that way.” 

“I thought you didn’t get along with people,” Chuuya teases, bumping his shoulder against you and making both of you sway gently. 

You push him right back, stifling a giggle. “You’re not exactly ‘people’ are you, mister vessel of an eldritch deity?” 

He squeezes your hand pointedly, “okay, you’ve got me there.” 

The air between you quiets, but there’s no awkwardness. It’s pleasant, this silence, relaxing. Morning breaks above your heads and showers you in comforting sunlight, warm, inviting. If it weren’t for the fact that you were both actively trying to leave this place, you’d almost feel inclined to stay. 

“Hey…” you speak up after a moment, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “can I ask you something? It’s a little personal, so I don’t mind if you say no.” 

“After last night?” Chuuya laughs. “Ask away.” 

“Okay,” you nod, bracing yourself for the topic you’re about to broach. “Why didn’t you just… stay with the cults when you were younger? Let them worship you as a god, be revered and adored by so many people?”

“You could have had it all,” you continue. “Riches, power, people worshipping you and laying their lives down for you. Whatever you wanted.”

“It's all bullshit,” scoffs Chuuya. “You know what happens when you have a bunch of people at your feet? There's nobody left to see eye to eye.”

“That’s why you found a crew.”

“I may have subordinates on the ship, but more importantly I have their respect. Not their fear.” 

There’s a far-off look in his eyes as he speaks, reminiscent and light. Clearly, he misses these people- cares for them greatly. You know he’s the type of person that thrives around the company of others, unlike yourself. He’s built himself into a community, into a life that works for him. And it happens to be so very different from the type of life you’re used to. 

But you can’t say it isn’t the sort of life you wouldn’t try to give one final chance to. At least, certainly not when it also involves the company of someone you’ve very much grown to enjoy over the past few months. 

“Well,” you say, breaking the silence at last. “We’re no use to anyone moping around on this beach. Let’s scavenge what we can of our old boat and start to fix it up.”

“You want to try again?”

“What else would we do?”

“And if it fails?”

“We try again,” you insist. “And we keep trying until we finally get out of here. Or until someone finds us, whichever comes sooner. I’m sure your people are already looking for you, if they’re as family-oriented as they seem to be.”

You almost miss what Chuuya asks next, words much quieter and fragile. They slip from him as if involuntary, and he silences himself immediately after. 

“Would you come back with me?”

A determination fills your soul, resilience surging through your veins. And you smile. You smile so brightly that it is your turn now to be envied by the elements, by the rain and her lightning and thunder.

“What else would I do?”

author notes: i've popped these down here bc the warnings are SO LONG they were already making all the pre-cut stuff horrendous lmfao. anyway, i hope if y'all made it to the end that u liked it <3 i personally feel like it gets rather ooc in parts because of how much i was fighting this tooth & nail in the writing process, but i'm still very proud that i finished this and that's good enough for me >:)

“i think you missed a spot.” 

you don’t even know how you and dazai got to this point but you were definitely not complaining and neither was he.

it all began with you wanting to test make-up on him for fun, then demonstrating how to apply lipstick and now you’re sitting on the bathroom floor with your greedy boyfriend who won’t stop asking for kisses. the cherry red shade on your lips matched all the kissing marks covering his face. his eyes look dazed and dilated, eyes which were trained on you and accompanied by a lazy smile. his messy hair that managed to make him even more attractive. dazai quite literally seemed like he was drunk off your kisses.

“you sure?” you murmur as you inspect every detail of his face. there aren’t many places left that haven’t gotten your attention and you think maybe this would be enough. dazai begs to differ. he hums affirmatively to your query, tapping a finger on his lips as if indicating for you to kiss there next. he can never have quite enough, can he? a soft smile rises to your mouth and without a second thought, you lean in again.

you’re certain that your lipstick is smeared by now but you couldn’t care any less. your soft lips in touch with his is all you can focus on, his hands cupping your face to bring you impossibly closer. he slightly nibbled on your lower lip as you sighed against his mouth, running a hand through his hair. he’s much more needier this time, a type of desire that you’re not unfamiliar with. the kiss lasted until both of you were left breathless, dazai’s hot breath tickling your skin as your forehead is still in contact with his.

“i want more,” he mumbles to you and your heart skips a beat. you swear you can see small hearts in his irises as he looks at you. there is so much love in his gaze that it makes every single doubt you might have had in this relationship disappear. it wasn’t even the teasing kind of glint that you usually see, just pure devotion and yearning that only you get to witness in moments like these. you must’ve been admiring him for a long moment because what he says next catches you a little off guard.

“please.”

he says your name as well and his voice is so tender yet desperate. dazai almost never begs. and if he does it’s either to annoy you or to get you to leave the agency with him early. but this is neither of those instances. your kisses really did something to him. or perhaps broke him.

“i don’t know… you seem like you’re on a bit of an overdose right now.” you tell him with a breathy laugh as you brush some of his hair strands behind his ear, taking this chance to tease him a little. his reaction doesn’t disappoint, the subtle pout appearing on his lips not going missed by you.

“i think i’ll go crazy if you stop here. my love, please.” you can feel the butterflies in your stomach because god this version of dazai makes you fall for him even more if that’s possible. besides, how could you ever say no to him when he’s like this? before responding, you plant another tender kiss on his forehead, which already had a few kissing stains here and there. you decide to whisper your next words, your tone having more warmth than previously.

“then let’s continue this in the bedroom, hm?”

eeee very short but kinda proud of this one ! wishing everyone a good day/night ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

WELL.. DAMN!! HES SOOSOSO BABYGIRL

᯽ wet dreamz • osamu dazai

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

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

wc • 6.8k

a/n • ahahahaha i don’t know

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

᯽•᯽

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nice.

how eloquent of him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s too much.

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

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

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

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

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

oh, you realize, he’s going to cum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.