Work Text:
There are very few rules in the household. Neither Chuuya nor Dazai are the type to strive for ordinary lifestyles, after all. And though Chuuya finds a few of Dazai’s domestic eccentricities frustrating, she would never try to change her girlfriend.
There is, however, one rule: Dazai is not allowed to orgasm without Chuuya’s permission.
When Dazai first brought the rule up, she was unsure of how Chuuya would feel about it. To her delight, Chuuya agreed almost immediately with a sadistic smile and a quip about it being an excellent torture method. So, as quick as the idea was presented, the rule was established. No exceptions.
And though Dazai is an excellent negotiator, it’s days like today - when Chuuya was too busy to check her phone - that she realizes just what kind of torture she may have inflicted upon herself.
“Coming home soon?” Dazai had texted Chuuya. Chuuya didn’t answer. That was an hour ago. She would likely be at work until late in the evening.
Still, as the late afternoon sun slowly dips below the horizon, her impatience for Chuuya has slowly become urgent. It tingles just below the surface of her skin, the memory of their affair the evening before clinging to her every move.
Dazai finds herself pacing the house, opening the fridge, rearranging the shelves, before finally sitting on Chuuya’s side of the bed. Every nerve in her body is begging for more.
Dazai climbs further onto the bed, still in her work clothes, and sinks her face into her girlfriend’s pillow. She breathes in the scent of her shampoo and perfume, and oh, how she misses Chuuya in that moment. Her legs give out under her, and she lets them fall, her body collapsing on top of the blanket with a dramatic flair for no one else to see.
She texts Chuuya again. Nothing substantial, just a simple, “Need you,” and lays her phone down next to her.
For a moment, everything is very, very still. Her body picks up on everything Chuuya, Chuuya, only Chuuya. Chuuya’s lingering smell, her soft pillow, her place on the bed. Dazai loves to lie on Chuuya’s side when they have sex. She loves being enveloped in her girlfriend, loves the feeling of every inch of her body belonging to Chuuya and no one else.
She sighs, the tension in her body tightening. If Chuuya were here, she’d already be rubbing the back of Dazai’s thighs while undoing her bandages, slowly, always taking her time. Behind her eyes, Dazai imagines her gloved hands wandering to her ass, squeezing and massaging her frame.
Though her face is still buried in the pillow, she can feel the blanket gathering in the space between her thighs.
Chuuya is always so mean. Always willing to give her just enough to have her whimpering, then deny her the release she so desperately needs. Actually, when Dazai stops to think about it, she realizes that she can’t remember the last time Chuuya let her come.
Her girlfriend knows every little inch of her body, knows all of her signs inside and out. Every time Dazai has gotten close enough, Chuuya has shut it down. Let her know that she’s not allowed to come. It leaves her in a constant state of sensitivity, every little touch spreading fire through her veins.
Dazai’s hips rock forward against the blanket underneath her as she thinks about it. She lets out a soft gasp, brought back to the present by the drag of her sensitive skin against the cotton.
With a slow breath, she turns her face so that her cheek is pressed against Chuuya’s pillow. Her gaze wanders to the window. In the late afternoon light, she can see the mafia headquarters in the distance. There, Chuuya is far away, ignoring her.
Her thighs move together again, gathering more of the blanket underneath her, and she can already tell she’s wet through her panties. It doesn’t take much to make her wet anymore.
She needs Chuuya here now.
If Chuuya were here, she’d scoff and call her clingy, tell her to calm down while shoving her hand down Dazai’s underwear anyway. Chuuya’s always so slow, teasing Dazai anytime she gets the chance, but never above giving her the touch she needs.
Chuuya would flip her over and undress her slowly. Dazai knows how much Chuuya loves her chest. The brute is always groping and kissing her breasts any chance she gets, always licking and sucking on her nipples and-
Dazai huffs out and moves her hips down harder against the blanket, hissing out at the rough fabric. The cloth, usually soft to sleep under, drags against her breasts and thighs. She presses down until she can feel it bunch up against the folds of her cunt.
It’s not Chuuya’s fingers. It’s not. But the pressure is enough for her to close her eyes and imagine it is. She breathes in Chuuya’s scent again, imagining she’s riding her girlfriend’s fingers.
Chuuya always plays with her first, circling her fingers along her clit, tracing her folds. Sometimes, she’ll do so while still busy with paperwork, or on her phone, or watching a movie. Always a tease, trying to rile Dazai up until she’s soaked and begging for more. Always pretending she isn’t just as wet underneath her nonchalance.
Dazai moves her hips more, spreading her thighs to feel the blanket against her clit better. She pulls her work skirt out of the way, so that the only thing between her body and the blanket is her panties, already soaked through. There’s no doubt now that she’s dirtying the blanket.
Chuuya’s so gonna be pissed, she thinks, her hips still moving. They’ll have to wash everything.
The bed creaks under her as she presses down harder, circling her hips as she chases the feeling. It’s quickly becoming not enough.
Dazai huffs impatiently, checking her phone again to see if Chuuya has replied.
Nothing.
She scowls and unlocks her phone, ready to send another text to Chuuya, before an idea presents itself.
With a wicked smile spreading across her face, she opens her camera and leans back, the lens angled perfectly. She lifts her hips just right.
Click.
The picture is from the back angle, her ass spread wide and her skirt riding up. Her panties still cover her pretty cunt, though they’re visibly soaked through and sticking to her folds now. The picture doesn’t show it, but her thighs are already shaking.
Dazai sends the picture to Chuuya, along with a single message: “Come home now.”
Chuuya reads it immediately, the little check mark showing up before Dazai can close the app. She types, then stops, then types again.
Dazai is still rocking her hips on the blanket, suddenly feeling a lot more sensitive.
“Needy slut.”
The message that comes through from Chuuya sends a shiver down her spine. She sits up, riding the blanket at a new angle, and grinds down harder, now imagining Chuuya’s thigh beneath her. With Chuuya’s attention finally on her, her eyes flutter shut and imagines what her girlfriend would do if she walked in right now and saw her putting on a show of fucking their blanket.
After a few rocks of her hips, she picks up her phone again, this time lifting her skirt all the way to take a picture of her dripping pussy from the front.
The picture sends, with another message attached.
“Wanna fuck your thigh so bad.”
Chuuya replies again. “I’m working.”
Dazai huffs, frustrated. Sure, Chuuya’s job is the one that pays their bills. But does she really have to work so late into the evening? Surely she’s worked enough to afford a few short days off?
She’s trying to type another message when Chuuya calls her, finally. Finally.
She answers with a giddy laugh. “Got Chuuya’s attention fina-”
“Dazai, I swear.”
She feels her cunt throb at her girlfriend’s voice. Chuuya is whispering, though Dazai already knows her, knows she wouldn’t call if it weren’t for one reason.
Dazai moans as her clit rubs against the blanket again. “Want you,” she whispers back, though no one is in the room to overhear. “Please.”
Chuuya is quiet for a moment. Dazai can hear distant sounds, then the sound of a door closing. The lock makes an audible click. Chuuya sighs, not unhappily.
“And you couldn’t wait until I was home,” she mumbles. “Are you still...?”
Dazai’s skin thrums. Chuuya isn’t stupid; she knows she can still hear her fucking herself on the blanket. Can hear the way the bed creaks and her breath stutters out. What Chuuya is asking is far more satisfying: Can I help?
“Mhm,” she replies, more air than voice. There’s a desperate edge to it, an impatient edge, as her whole body screams for more.
Chuuya breathes out.
“You’re gonna get the bed dirty,” she says, her voice still light. She’s not actually mad about it.
“I am,” Dazai replies, her hips still moving.
Chuuya barks a laugh, surprised at the speed of Dazai’s candid response. “Were you touching yourself before this?”
Dazai can hear her sit down, the old office couch they used to share squeaking beneath her, and it all but confirms what she had assumed. Chuuya locked herself in her office. She’s still at work. There may have even been people waiting for her. But for now, it was just them two, alone. Finally, Dazai has her attention.
Dazai closes her eyes, her body humming with want as realization settles in that Chuuya is finally giving her what she needs.
“Not really,” she replies, her voice shaky. She grinds down on the blanket harder, circling her hips. She needs her panties off. She needs nothing between her and the blanket - her and Chuuya. “Was waiting for you.”
“That’s a good girl,” Chuuya says, her voice honey. Dazai swallows hard at the praise. Her mind screams for more loudly enough for the rest of her thoughts to quiet.
The blanket is quickly becoming not enough stimulation. Now that she’s started, her insatiable hunger for her Chuuya is beginning to feel painful. She needs Chuuya to talk more, she decides. Chuuya’s low, velvety voice, always so vulgar and smug, always whispering just the right words into her ears to make her feel good.
“Need you,” Dazai whines, her voice small and quiet. “Need you to touch me.” She rocks at just the right angle and gasps, moving with a new fervor to find it again.
“Hey, slow down,” Chuuya says, “Fuck, you’re really already this worked up?”
Dazai nods, then whines in response when she remembers Chuuya can’t see her. Another whine escapes her, then another, and she doesn’t think she can keep quiet anymore. Not with Chuuya listening to her. She wants to perform for her girlfriend; she needs to show her how much she wants it.
“Pretty,” Chuuya breathes, low enough that Dazai isn’t sure she’s meant to hear it. The effect it has on her is immediate, regardless.
Dazai’s hips are still grinding down, the bed creaking as she presses down harder. With Chuuya on the phone, listening to her, she can feel everything tenfold. Electricity is running along her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. If this were any other day, she’d be a bit embarrassed by how quickly things have gotten out of hand without any other stimulation. But right now, all she can think of is the delicious feeling of arousal building inside her.
“I wanna come.” Dazai moans loudly, her hips stuttering as she feels her orgasm approaching. “Please, Chuu-”
“Slow down,” Chuuya repeats. Her voice is even and stern. There’s a smile in her tone.
Dazai slows her hips instantly. Her eyes are half-lidded, mind hazy with arousal as she lets herself follow Chuuya’s orders.
She trusts her partner with everything in her life, including her mind. She would follow Chuuya to the ends of the earth any day. No questions asked. Though the loss of sensation is cruel. Desperation spreads through her veins. She whines again, so close to tipping over the edge. She was almost there.
Chuuya doesn’t say anything else right away. Dazai thinks, dully, that she’s being cruel. Cruel, denying her the immediate pleasure she needs. Cruel for going to work, cruel for not answering texts, cruel for not letting her come. Cruel, cruel slug.
“Don’t pout,” Chuuya says, finally, “You know the deal. If you wanna come, then you’re gonna have to convince me with that pretty body of yours.”
Dazai sits back, the buzzing in her ears fading into something much softer, warmer. She sighs as the threat of her orgasm wanes. Though Chuuya tries to be mean, the compliment slips from her lips so easily that Dazai almost doesn’t notice it. Almost. A smile plays on her lips, and she basks in the praise.
“I know,” she says, realizing that Chuuya is waiting for a reply. The sun has long since set in their apartment, their room now blanketed in the cool blue light of the moon.
“Good,” Chuuya says, “Let’s start over. Tell me what you were thinking about before all this.”
So she does. She explains her afternoon, the itch on her skin that craves Chuuya’s touch.
“You imagined me feeling ya up?”
“You don’t have to put it like that,” Dazai grumbles, shame warming her face.
Chuuya laughs, a soft little sound that makes Dazai’s heart jump. “Okay, okay,” she says, then, “What exactly did you imagine?”
Face still red, Dazai leans back onto the backs of her thighs, her legs still folded under her. She’s calmed down enough to let the blanket go slack beneath her. “Chuuya… ah… touching my breasts,” Dazai says, struggling to find words that don’t sound so crass.
Dazai’s already formed the plan in her head. She knows what Chuuya likes. If she can give Chuuya what she likes, maybe Chuuya will let her come for once.
Chuuya, predictably, makes a noise of interest. “How so? How did I touch you? Show me.”
Dazai undoes the buttons of her shirt, then her bra, tossing both onto the ground beside the bed. Now, with nothing shielding the cold air from her skin, she can feel goosebumps forming along her arms and neck. True to Chuuya’s orders, she starts groping her own breasts, letting her fingers graze her nipples the way she had imagined earlier. They’re already hard and sensitive.
Her breath hitches as she kneads her own chest, closing her eyes and imagining Chuuya’s manicured hands doing it for her. Her hands are cold, nails catching the nubs in just a way that sends shivers through her. She tips her head back and closes her eyes.
“How does it feel, darling?” Chuuya asks.
“Good,” Dazai replies. Her voice is still even, though she doesn’t hide the pleasure in it. She hums. “Really good. Cold.”
Chuuya’s hands are always warmer. Always a little rougher. Still, she feels arousal run through her blood again.
“I wish I could play with you right now,” Chuuya breathes, “I always love sucking on your pretty tits before fucking you.”
“Yeah,” Dazai says. She pinches her nipples and whines, the ghost of Chuuya’s name slipping from her lips. Dazai has never come from just stimulation to her nipples before, but she’s always wondered if she’s capable of it.
The idea had been floated between the two of them before, but it wasn’t something she wanted to do alone. That would be a weapon for Dazai to use another day.
“What else?” Chuuya prods, as if thinking the same.
“My body- my waist and-” she runs her hands down herself, thumbs squeezing her thighs and her fingers squeezing her ass. Chuuya’s hands were smaller, her grip always tighter. She left bruises just where Dazai wanted them.
“Your ass?” It’s not really a question. Chuuya knows. Dazai hums in agreement. “You’re so pretty. Every part of you is so pretty.”
Dazai kneads up and down her thighs the same way Chuuya always does before spreading her legs. Her cunt is starting to ache with wanting. Wanting to be touched. Wanting Chuuya.
“And…” Dazai whines. She’s waiting so patiently. She knows Chuuya knows what she wants.
“Go ahead,” Chuuya replies. Dazai doesn’t need to be told twice. She snakes her arm forward, her fingers slipping under her panties and between her folds. She’s so, so wet already.
Just as she’d thought, her panties were beyond soaked through, sticking to her now and cooling as her hand pulls them away from her warmth. The gentlest graze of her clit rips a moan from her.
With renewed desperation, Dazai grinds down on her fingers, moving her hips down hard. She whines at the relief of finally giving herself something more, noises slipping out much easier.
She can hear Chuuya curse under her breath, quiet. It brings her back to the present just enough to renew her need to please her girlfriend, too.
“Feels good,” she says, “your fingers feel so good.”
“Mhm,” Chuuya replies, “Keep fucking yourself on my fingers.”
Dazai, eager to please, moves her hips and her fingers sloppily, tilting her head back toward the ceiling and wishing so badly that it was Chuuya’s fingers. With her eyes closed, she can almost feel her girlfriend. Her whines come out louder, as she remembers the feel of her hands on her.
In Dazai’s haze, she almost misses the sound of Chuuya’s belt. But once she hears it, she latches onto the noise, listening closely to the tiny, digital sound of fabric rustling coming through her speakers.
“Are you gonna…?” Dazai asks. Chuuya has a private office with a lock. And sure, they’d done worse than this before in there. But always after hours. Always, once everyone was gone. Not while Chuuya was still technically working.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Chuuya says, teasing. “Stupid mackerel. Don’t think I don’t know your schemes.”
Dazai smiles, momentarily distracted by her own pride in seducing Chuuya so thoroughly. Chuuya - self-controlled Chuuya - had finally given in. Surely this rare moment was one to relish in.
And then Chuuya’s breath hitches, and Dazai’s body responds immediately. She closes her eyes again, imagining her Chuuya in that lonely office, hand shoved down her slacks. It’s vulgar.
“Yes.” Dazai is suddenly desperate to hear more, to hear how pretty Chuuya can be. “Please, let me make you feel good too.”
Chuuya doesn’t respond at first, but Dazai can still hear her. Her pretty manicured fingers stroking either side of her clit, feather-light touch on herself. Chuuya has always been extra sensitive, always squirming away from Dazai’s impatient touch and kicking her away anytime she presses directly onto her sensitive spots. So unlike Dazai, who always needs more.
Dazai practically purrs, her own fingers pressing down on Chuuya’s in her mind. She needs Chuuya. Needs for them to sit together on the old office couch, fingering each other, voices hushed and movements quick before someone comes looking for them. Needs for Chuuya’s eyes to flutter shut as she gets closer, her teeth biting down on her lips until they’re raw.
“I want you to feel good. I can make you feel so good,” Dazai pleads, moving her hips down against her own fingers again. “Please, Chuuya, I’ll be so good for you.”
“Dazai,” Chuuya warns, her voice slipping into a growl.
“So good,” Dazai leans forward, slipping her fingers in and curling them. They don’t have the reach Chuuya’s would from the angle her arm is at, but it’s enough for her to imagine.
She loses her balance, letting her face fall forward onto Chuuya’s pillow. The palm of her hand presses roughly against her clit now. Her face is closer to her phone, although she’s sure her voice is muffled by the pillow. Spit pools around her lips.
“So good,” she repeats.
Chuuya bites back a moan. “Wanna fuck you so bad,” she says.
Dazai uses her free hand to stick her fingers in her mouth. The angle is starting to make her arms ache, but she’s beyond caring, her mind filled only with thoughts of Chuuya filling her up. She presses down on her tongue, more drool dripping from her lips, and whines through a gag. Oh, to have Chuuya’s strap in her mouth right now, keeping her quiet.
She sucks and slurps on her fingers, humming around the digits as her other hand circles her clit again.
“Fuck.” Chuuya moans, her own movements audible through the speaker.
The blanket bunches between her legs again, and she grinds her hips down, the bed squeaking. Her skin feels hot. Her entire body strung tight, ready to snap. Dazai feels her orgasm creeping up fast. She’s painfully close by the time she realizes it’s too late to ask for permission.
“Gon’ come, gon’ come,” she says around her fingers, voice frantic.
“Didn’t say you could,” Chuuya replies. “Stop moving.”
Dazai almost doesn’t listen. Her thighs tremble visibly, muscles straining. It feels so, so good. She’s so close.
“...Dazai.”
Dazai stops, a frustrated cry slipping past her lips. Her fingers drop from her mouth. The rest of her body stays still, aware that any movement might send her over the edge despite Chuuya’s orders as the threat of her orgasm passes.
“Why?” she whines. She knows why.
“Earn it. That’s the rule. I haven’t even come yet, and you’re already demanding it? Spoiled brat,” Chuuya replies.
“How can I…?” An idea presents itself.
Dazai turns over onto her back. A smile spreads on her face as she leans over to Chuuya’s nightstand, pulling open the bottom drawer. She pulls out one of Chuuya’s dildos- it’s really the one that Chuuya uses on her the most - and slips off her underwear, tossing it to the side. It’s cold, but she ignores it for her next trick.
Dazai picks up the phone and turns the back camera on. She points it to her cunt, dildo in her other hand. Positioning the camera correctly, she lets Chuuya see as she rubs the tip through her folds and against her clit, wetting the head.
A moan sounds through the phone speaker, close enough now that Dazai can practically feel the vibration. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Want Chuuya like this,” Dazai says, quietly. The head of the dildo lifts away from her as she tilts her hand. A thin, sticky string pulls along with it, showing just how wet she is from all this teasing.
There’s loud rustling from the speaker, and Dazai thinks that Chuuya has pushed her pants down further.
“Need Chuuya’s cock in me,” Dazai croons. She slides the dildo in then, gasping at how easily it slides all the way in. Her breath stutters, but she continues. “You fill me up so nice.”
Chuuya curses. Dazai wishes again that she were in her office with her.
“Chuuya,” Dazai whines, shifting her hips, “can I move it?”
“Yeah,” Chuuya replies, too quick to sound anything but eager.
Dazai giggles, finally moving the dildo in and out slowly, making a show of just how much was inside her. The squelching noise is obscene, and Dazai supplements it with soft sighs as she fucks herself slowly.
“I’m so wet, look how easy it goes in,” Dazai says, sliding it back in all the way.
“Go faster, baby,” Chuuya says. Dazai obeys easily, changing her pace.
Unsurprisingly, this is easier for her to handle. Typically, Dazai takes twice as long to orgasm with just a dildo. Chuuya is the same, both favoring stimulation on their clits when in a time crunch. But right now, Dazai is chasing Chuuya’s orgasm more than her own.
She puts on a show for Chuuya, fucking herself hard and fast. When she pulls out to show Chuuya, her slick dripping from the dildo, Chuuya moans her name.
“Feels so good,” Dazai says, finally, sliding the dildo in again, “Want you to come in me.”
Chuuya is quiet, only low moans coming from the phone speaker.
“Please, come in me, Chuuya,” Dazai pleads, still fucking herself, “Please, please-”
“Close,” Chuuya says, clipped. Dazai can hear the soft, wet sounds of her girlfriend’s cunt. She wishes she could be there with her now, on her knees and using her tongue to lap up Chuuya’s mess while she fingers herself.
“Yes, please, like that,” Dazai encourages her. She can feel herself tensing as her own body threatens an orgasm. She whines. “Please, Chuuya. I’m yours, only yours.”
Her body responds to the thought of Chuuya owning her, of her making Chuuya feel good.
Chuuya goes silent before a fierce moan rips through her like a growl.
Dazai knows the sound all too well. The noise is almost enough to tip Dazai over. Her legs snap closed, her hands fighting her own body to keep moving the dildo through Chuuya’s orgasm. She can almost feel Chuuya’s body heat on her, holding her the way she always does when she fucks her. It’s too much.
Dazai chants Chuuya’s name like a prayer as she feels herself tighten around the dildo. She’s gonna come. A tiny part of her thinks about not telling Chuuya.
“Dazai,” Chuuya warns, reading her mind.
But it feels so good. Dazai is aware, vaguely, that the noises she’s making must be telling enough for Chuuya. Her hand fumbles on the dildo, still pressed between her thighs, and she abandons the toy entirely to slide her fingers into her folds and around her swollen clit. The touch makes her hips jump, her cunt squeezing tight against the cock in her. She makes a noise in the back of her throat.
Chuuya hasn’t said anything else yet. For a single, glorious moment, Dazai thinks that she’s changed her mind. That she’s going to let her come.
“Dazai-”
“Close,” Dazai cuts in, before Chuuya can say anything else. She’s not asking. Dazai’s fingers circle the sensitive, swollen nub again and again, the movement slick and easy. She can feel herself weeping cum around the dildo, wetting the blankets beneath her. “I’m so close-”
“Stop,” is all Chuuya says. Her tone is firm.
Dazai’s fingers stop on command.
She sobs in frustration, feeling herself tighten in anticipation of an orgasm that isn’t coming. Her body jerks, her muscles tight. Her heart pounds in her ears, too loud for her to hear anything. Dazai thinks, vaguely, that she’s never gotten this close before. It feels dangerous, like any single move will push her off the edge.
Her fingers slide from their place slowly, though the movement is enough to send another wave of pleasure through her. A whine escapes her without her permission. It almost hurts.
“I need you,” she cries to Chuuya, “please. Chuuya.” She blinks, surprised when she feels tears welling up. It’s a mix of the frustration of being denied and the frustration of still missing Chuuya, she thinks.
Chuuya gives her a moment to settle before speaking again. “Leave the toy in. I’m leaving now.”
Dazai blinks, taking a second to comprehend the words. It takes her longer than usual to recognize her victory. “Chuuya’s coming home?”
“I told you I would let you come if you earned it. Be a good girl and show me you’ve earned it when I get there.” Dazai can hear Chuuya’s belt as she gets up from her place in the office.
“I’m always a good girl,” she replies petulantly, her body finally calming down.
The snort Chuuya replies with is not unfriendly. She doesn’t pick the fight.
They’re silent for a while as Chuuya situates herself. Dazai shuts the camera off again and lets the phone rest on her chest. She basks in the quiet of their room as the rapid pulse in her ears fades. Though they live in the wealthier part of town, there’s no escaping the chatter of the city, even from as high up as their apartment. Distant car rumbling cuts through the silence - traffic is picking up for the night.
She feels good. Even as the evening brings a cool chill to the air and her muscles begin to ache from use, she feels good. Chuuya is coming home.
“I’ll be home soon,” Chuuya says, once again reading her mind, “Stay on the phone with me.” The office door closes.
“Is that alright?” Dazai asks, masking the impatience in her voice.
“‘Course,” Chuuya says. Her heels click loud enough on the tile floors of headquarters for Dazai to hear through the phone. Although there would be personnel hanging around until dawn, there was usually a lull in the evening while most daytime employees made their way home. Regardless, no one would dare approach Chuuya while she’s in a rush to leave.
Dazai can see the layout of headquarters in her head as she hears Chuuya’s heels come to a stop and the elevator ding.
“I’m on my way,” Chuuya says, reassuring her again.
A fond smile presents itself on Dazai’s face. Chuuya was on her way. Chuuya’s finally going to let her come. And once she has, Dazai knows she’ll convince Chuuya to let her come again and again. She’ll make the wait worth it.
“I’ll be waiting.”