#and on the other i’m looking at every interaction very very differently now

[rush-the-stars]

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!

thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333

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“I think you’d be perfect.” 

Suguru’s voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you. 

Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself. 

You’ve kept your distance for this reason.

You swallow hard. 

And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. It’s firmer than you’re anticipating and you’re proud;

“I don’t think I would be.” 

Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if they’re shaded by half-lidded lashes. 

He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, “why not?” 

“I told you when I agreed to join you—all I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.” You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them. 

“You asked for my protection.” He reminds you. 

Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.

“I didn’t—“ 

“Is that not what you’d call it?” Suguru asks, “when I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?”

Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic. 

“I’m not a homemaker.” 

His smile is soft, “I don’t want a homemaker.” 

“I’m not obedient.” You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once he’s made up his mind.

“You’ve been quite good for me.” Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation.  

“I—I’m doing your dirty work. That’s our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?” He asks simply, “I’d still let you roam, if that’s what you’re so scared of.” 

“No it’s that—that power and mentality that I don’t want you to have over me.” You snap. 

“I already have it,” he says and it isn’t intended to be cruel, but certainly is, “how long do you think you’d last, without the protection of an Alpha?” 

“I didn’t have any before you.” 

“You were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.” You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “it would still give you what you want.” 

“I don’t want to be yours.” You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, “I don’t want your mark.”

Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display. 

His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, “I don’t believe you.” 

You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world. 

***

Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards. 

Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well. 

(“Cursed technique: Cursed Creature,” Suguru hums, “allows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,” he pauses, looking you over, “monster?” 

“That’s right.” You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep. 

He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet. 

“You have a deal.”)

The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming. 

You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality. 

The sorcerer doesn’t stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again. 

This time, he is warped away. 

But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped. 

Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place. 

Your claws meet air. 

A growling hiss erupts from your throat. 

Satoru Gojo. 

Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.

And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too. 

Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is. 

For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard. 

“Call off your pet,” Gojo says. 

Suguru calls your name again and there’s something else in his tone now, a little sharper. 

(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)

You come to heel at Suguru’s side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer. 

“Go,” Suguru says to you. 

Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. “I’m not leaving,” you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you don’t want Suguru facing Gojo alone–you don’t want to leave his back suddenly unguarded. 

It’s counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You don’t leave him, you don’t leave his side, his back. 

“Go,” Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, “I won’t tell you again.” 

When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.

And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;

“How interesting.” 

***

When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed. 

You’d paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it. 

Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door. 

When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort of—smugness. A knowing glint to his eyes. 

“Why would you send me away?” You snap.

“You could’ve gone in, you know, if it would’ve soothed you.” Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. “Would you like a key?” 

You blanche, taking a half step back, “I don’t—“

It allows him to get to his door and open it. You’ve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you. 

You glance at the threshold and feel as if you’re making an important decision. 

“Come on,” he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little. 

But you round on him again, “why would you send me away?”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little. 

His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. It’s all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. You’ve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what he’d like you to do. 

When he finds what he’s looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key. 

“I don’t want a key!” You snap. 

“It’s a spare, take it just in case.” He replies and when you don’t move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him. 

He places the key in your hand. 

And then his eyes catch yours, “you were worried.” 

“No-!” you get out, “I don’t like being—I’m supposed to protect you.” 

Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, “isn’t that sweet?” he remarks, “an Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.”

Immediately, you jerk away from him.

The key is still in your shaking fist. 

“Don’t start,” you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, “I’ve always been the one at your side.” 

“Yes,” he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. “I already told you that.” 

You’ve always been at my side, he’d said, when he was trying to convince you to–

“That’s not what I meant!” Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. It’s in your heart and the way you look at him. 

“It doesn’t matter what you meant,” Suguru says easily, “it’s still the truth.” 

When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall. 

But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.

And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor. 

***

For a while, you avoid Suguru. 

You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind. 

And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you. 

But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment. 

And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed? 

You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you. 

You suddenly miss it, crave it. 

Him. 

You twist beneath your sheets. 

Why did he have to–

You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again. 

You’re restless. 

Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm. 

Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way he’d rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. He’d given you clothes of his to wear. He’d had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way. 

But now that he’s actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light. 

Had he always…wanted you? 

Was he always planning this? 

The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call. 

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company. 

And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.

You know he wards off Alphas. 

You know he perhaps does more than even that. 

But you don’t want—

You don’t want to be mated. 

You don’t want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, don’t want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.

Your face heats with the thought. 

Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck. 

You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.

You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days. 

You assume, at some point, he’ll speak to you. And break this strange silence. 

You’ll both return to normal then.

And then perhaps you won’t lose any more sleep over him.

***

Suguru never says goodbye to you. 

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does—you just figured he’d finally drop this silly little silence game.

You suppose he must’ve thought the same of you.

Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? It’s foolish to even entertain. You knew you weren’t going to apologize either. The least you’ll do, when he returns, is  act as if all is normal again. Perhaps it’s better that way, not to address what he’s put in his head recently. 

The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind. 

On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent. 

You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance  is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities. 

You—

Well, you miss it. 

Him, maybe. 

The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down. 

On the third day, you’re genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue. 

You try to ignore it. 

You go on with your life. 

But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. You’re restless.

You can’t sleep. 

You can hardly eat or think. 

And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need. 

You’ve known the whole week. 

You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer. 

The key rattles, hot, like it knows it’s finally about to be used. It’s musical sound a siren song, it’s been burning away in there the whole week. 

You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment. 

It’s the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound. 

Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.

Suguru’s door has haunted you the whole week.

The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving it’s divots there like your hand might be the lock itself. 

You try not to think about it–you unlock the door. You throw it open. 

You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place. 

Darkness greets you.

You wander in like you know the place (you do, you do–)

You wander in like it’s yours to wander in. 

Instantly, something loosens inside of you. 

You exhale hard. 

Inhale sharp. 

The smell of him, fainter because he’s been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space. 

In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You haunt the arch for a moment.

Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause. 

Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now. 

But he gave you a key.

He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key. 

You cross the threshold.

You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days it’s his. 

You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale. 

A soft little groan works it’s way out of you.

Instantly, your muscles slacken. 

Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness. 

It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin. 

You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it. 

And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly. 

Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir. 

You sleep deeply. 

In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat. 

You stretch lazily like one, too.

Suguru will be home tomorrow. 

You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns. 

You didn’t do anything wrong, you know—he gave you a key. 

He gave you a key. 

But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.

You don’t quite leave as quickly as you should still, though: 

You linger.

You’re comfortable.

Calmed for the first time all week.

And when you do slip out, it’s silently, locking the door behind you.

Like maybe you won’t ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body. 

But his scent clings to you. 

And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheets—and to Suguru, it’s sweet as can be and unmistakable—irreplaceable.

He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows you’ve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that he’s come to adore. 

He grins to himself and knows then, he’s got you right where he wants you.

***

For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return. 

Instead, he finds you. 

And he doesn’t say he’s sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;

“I’d prefer if you didn’t avoid me in the future.”

It feels like sorry enough. 

And for some time, things return to a state of normal.

A version of it.

It isn’t quite like it was before—in fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.

This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.

Although, he begins to ask, don’t you have your key? Can’t you let yourself in? 

You say you haven’t used it.

He hums like he knows differently, but doesn’t press you.

Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.

Fetch, he says.

“It’s locked, isn’t it?”

“You have your key.” He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading. 

For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.

It’s a useless argument to pick, anyways.

You do have a key.

It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.

So you do. 

And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.

“Thank you,” he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.

You swallow a little.

Then you quickly avert your gaze. 

“Whatever,” you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.

And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.

***

Tentatively, you begin to come and go.

The first (second)  time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does. 

His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard that’s caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what it’ll do. 

Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own. 

You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space. 

It’s comforting to find it beside his scent. 

It soothes a part of you that you don’t wish to admit to. 

His hands grow bolder. 

Now they’re always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, it’s often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.

Pleased. Smug. Knowing. 

His hands guide you as you walk beside him.

You grow accustomed to his touch in some way—he makes sure of it.

Then, as if to prove something—

Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesn’t stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight. 

And all it takes to stop you is Suguru’s large hand coming down on the nape of your neck. 

His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

“Easy,” he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.

It’s involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, you’re alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. It’s terrifying.

You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.

But you don’t fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance. 

You storm off.

Instances as such continue to happen, though, where he’s able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look. 

It comes to a head while you’re eating dinner with him. 

“You’re so wound up,” Suguru comments lightly, “your scent is so sharp with it. What’s bothering you?” 

Reflexively, you snap, “you are.” 

And it’s meant to be some sort of insult but Suguru’s lips twist into this hitched little smile. “It’s my fault you’re wound up?” He asks lightly. 

“Don’t twist my words.” You respond, fixing him with a glare, “you bother me.” 

He’s still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself. 

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks. 

“No,” you say reflexively. 

A beat of silence before he says, “come here. I’ll help you.” 

There’s a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head. 

You hesitate.

He pounces, “just a massage.” He soothes, “I can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.”

His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.

Warily, “away from my glands?” 

He smiles, “of course.” And then, “come here.”

Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, “sit in front of me. Back to me—there, that’s it.” 

It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful. 

But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away. 

Suguru tsks, “see how tense you are? You’re in pain.” He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, “sit still for me. I’ll be gentler.”

True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.

He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from you—a groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear he’s doing it deliberately and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little. 

But you finally loosen and slacken for him. 

When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, “I don’t know why you fight this so badly.”

You let go of a heavy sigh, “you do know why. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Because you’re stubborn?” Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, “because you don’t know what’s good for you?”

“You’re no good for me.” You respond.

Suguru’s turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, he’d never say it was purposeful. 

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer. 

“I’m not a pet.” 

Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist. 

“No?” He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. “It’s not a bad thing to be a pet. You’re thinking about it all wrong.” 

His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again. 

“Suguru,” you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what he’s said.

“You’re my pet now,” he continues, “though you don’t like to admit it. It’s not so bad, is it?” 

Stubbornly, you don’t answer him.

But after a moment, you say, “if I’m already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this way—“

Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest. 

You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.

Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that he’s so close to the glands in your throat. 

“Don’t play dumb,” Suguru muses, half-mocking, “it doesn’t suit you.” 

“Let me go,” you snarl low and hot.

“What are you scared of?” Suguru responds, “that I’d trap you? If you’d take my Bite, I’d let you roam further than I do now. You’d be safe.” 

“Liar,” you hiss, “I’m not dumb.” 

“I’m not trying to stifle you, I’m trying to set you free.” Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you. 

You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees. 

Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, “I don’t think anything I say will convince you at this point.” 

You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise. 

In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him. 

Underneath him.

You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you. 

You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“Suguru,” you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.

“See how easy it was for me to subdue you?” He says then, voice smooth and low. “If I wanted to take you, I simply would’ve already. You’re no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I would’ve.”

“Get off me!” 

You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.

His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.

He squeezes your wrists, “stop squirming.” He murmurs low, “or my instinct will be to bite.”

Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter of—fear, excitement. 

“Just—get off—leave me alone!” You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck. 

“Hush,” Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.

He’s scenting you. 

He’s done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers. 

He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.

You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.

You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.

When he’s finished, he asks, “would you like to scent me?” And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, “I’m sending you away on a mission alone. I’ll be scenting you until the day you leave now.” 

You catch his eyes, glinting.

“So, I thought it only fair if you’d like to scent me, too.” 

You don’t know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt. 

“You’re sending me away?”

Suguru hums softly, “I need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.” 

You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesn’t budge. 

He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, “this would be easier if you’d take my mark.” 

You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now. 

Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.

Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat. 

“I’m not even—“ you huff, retry, “I haven’t had a Heat in—it wouldn’t take, anyways.” 

“Ah,” Suguru says and you wish you hadn’t told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize it’s caught its mouse beneath its paws. “Is this what you’re so scared of?” 

“No—I prefer it this way. It’s another reason that you can’t. It wouldn’t work.” You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge. 

“I could give you a temporary one,” he murmurs, “I’d let you do the same in return, of course.” 

You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating. 

“I don’t need it.” You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. “I can protect myself.” You pull away to look at him again, “am I not one of your strongest?” 

“You are my strongest.” He agrees, he praises. “But am I not also strong?” He asks, “and yet you still insist on protecting me.” 

You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape. 

“You are my strongest.” He says, “I would like the world to be aware of it.” 

“I told you, I don’t want to be yours–” 

“Then stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.” Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin. 

You turn your head to the side to look at him. 

“You would hunt me down if I ran.” 

A flicker of a smile ghosts his face. 

“And if I ran from you?” He asks, “if I discarded you?” 

Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling. 

“You refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.” He turns to look at you, “not so easy to hear, is it?” 

“I can’t stand you or your games.” You get out. 

“There are no games.” He says evenly, “only the one you’re playing with yourself.” 

You scoff, “which is?” 

He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder. 

“Seeing how long you can outrun what you want.” 

You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, “and what do I want, Suguru?” 

“To be taken care of.” 

“I don’t need–”

He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. “You never have, but it doesn’t mean you can’t want it.” 

“I don’t want it either.” You snap. “You have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.” 

“I’ve said none of that, have I?” He hums. “Now you’re twisting my words, being purposefully churlish–in hopes of, what? To scare me off?” 

His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip. 

“You snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I don’t blame you–I am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.” His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. “You don’t believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, they’ll run off. And then you’ll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. You’re unworthy of care or companionship or protection.” 

His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, “go on,” he encourages, “bite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.” He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, “I’ll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. I’ll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of you–no matter how badly you fight me.” 

Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle first–warm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving. 

You sink your teeth into his skin viciously. 

He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesn’t pull away. “There,” he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, “is that what you wanted?” 

Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible and–you whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder. 

If that’s what he promises, you’ll make him prove it. 

If he wants to be the one beside you, you’ll make him pay. 

He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches. 

But you don’t let go and he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Does that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isn’t scared of you?” He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. “Shall I do the same to you?” 

You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes. 

You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.

You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suguru doesn’t even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.

#suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou suguru x you #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #cw: omegaverse #cw: yandere #cielo writes! #cielo's writing!

[heartual]

ough

#🍄.txt #this is soooo sad like is it really too much to ask for friends who like. actually want to listen to me #being everyone’s designated listening person is so exhausting literally genuinely truly #i finally started making friends on campus though that feel more than semester friends like i am literally gripping onto the table rn #i didn’t realize how much this bothered me before this semester when i actually started talking to people that i didn’t already know #it’s so. OUGH #like ok is this why i’m slowly starting to feel like an actual person #it’s so insane to me like on one hand thank you. finally #and on the other i’m looking at every interaction very very differently now #like. with the people i knew before this #talking to my doctor recently about support systems and having to be like uh 😃 haha… #and her looking at me like i was insane like ok maybe that isn’t normal actually #very fun very interestinggg <3

[xekstrin]

One of the most memorable interactions was Saturday. Into our booth strolls a small family, tempted by free samples of freshly brewed tea. We chatter and give them the spiel, that the tea is character merch and we’re a cozy health-based app called Forage Friends.

The young girl zeroes in on our pride pins.

“They have my pin!” She says excitedly. “They have my flag!”

The dad blinks. He is surprised, but also calm and positive when he sees it’s the lesbian flag. “Oh. That’s… different from what you told me.”

“That was months ago, dad.” And she rolls her eyes. Definitely a teenager.

I turn to him and say, “Yeah, dad.” And we share a little laugh about it.

He says, “No, it’s great. That’s amazing, honey. It was just news to me.”

“Well, I guess I just decided to stop lying to myself. About liking guys. Like right now.”

A little lesbian just came out to her dad and he was super cool about it.

I’m standing there in my tie-dye mask and my cheery blue apron pouring tea and making small talk and I’m trying really hard not to cry or compare it to my experience, the fire & brimstone, the disgust, the conditional acceptance as long as I never bring it up.

So as this beautiful bonding is going on, the girl’s even younger brother turns his gaze around. He’s in a snorlax hoodie and bored and wants to go look at the swords across the hall. But on the other side of our booth….

“WHY DO PEOPLE DRAW THAT?” He asks loudly, and we all turn to our neighboring booth.

Our neighbors were extremely lovely people. Every time we had a break we would talk, and we became good friends over the weekend. They kept apologizing that their booth was next to ours and we kept repeating that it was totally fine. Their booth was great. I even bought their merchandise.

The thing that was so contentious, that they felt the need to apologize for, was that they were selling explicit titty hentai stickers of popular characters. They were censored with little yellow R18 labels but the content was very clear.

So back to the family: I freeze and immediately go somewhere else to let dad handle this question. With adult customers I’ve been loud and positive about our neighbors. (“Man, how has it been boothing next to them?” It’s been great! They bring a lot of foot traffic and they’re kind and wonderful professional neighbors. If anything it’s a fun juxtaposition. We believe in artistic freedom. I bought a sticker too!)

But this is a kid, it’s not my place to explain anything…. But I was extremely curious about what this chill dad would say.

“Well,” dad says with a long measured silence between each word. “Sometimes people are horny.”

#IT WAS SO FUNNY #the kid was like GROSS #and dad was like its art :) #maybe one day you will feel that way too son #and he was like NO NEVER GROSS #and the dad was like you know what thats true :) not everyone feels that way #but maybe some day you will and you’ll see it’s totally fine and normal #A+ dad #dad of all time #dad champion #forage friends

[rafecameroninterlude]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

pairing: rafe cameron x camgirl!reader

summary: ❝screw your anonymity, loving me is all you need to feel like i do.❞ — rafe cameron is your top donator, having been tuning into your live streams for several months. one night of texting and spilling too much details has you and rafe running into each other at a party, and knowing exactly who eachother is. even when you’ve only ever streamed anonymously.

warnings: shy!reader, mentions of porn, masturbation (with a toy), praise, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, solo orgasm, squirting, flirty text messages, reader is super nervous but finds the whole thing thrilling nonetheless

word count: 3.2k

a/n: series masterlist <3 part two here

rafe was hooked the second he saw your pussy on his screen. the way he found your live was nothing but pure accident, but when he heard your pretty voice and your even prettier moans, he couldn’t look away. that was about seven months ago, and he’s been tuning into your lives ever since, even making himself your top gifter so he had a special banner next to his name when he joined your chat. tonight was no different, he’d pop in, compliment the hell out of you, spam you with gifts and just have your moans playing in his headphones as he finished up some work for cameron development on the computer.

rafe never jacked off to porn, considering every woman he’s ever prompted to have sex with bent at his will. apart of him thought that’s why he liked you so much. your identity was a secret so he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what you looked like off camera. there was anticipation, desire, he craved you like no other; and he didn’t even know anything personal about you. “hello everyone! i’m going to wait a few minutes to let more people join before i get started.” rafe took in your cute lingerie, loving the sheer material of your top.

you wore white knee high socks with pink bows at the top. “fuck,” he whispered to himself, typing up a quick greeting.

rafecam: hey gorgeous

it was quiet for a few seconds before your perfectly manicured hand waved at the camera. “hi, rafe! always lovely to see you in here.” you smiled even though your face wasn’t in frame. truth be told, you actually enjoyed having him in your live. besides ensuring you three to seven hundred dollars a stream, he had a way with words, most, if not all of his comments always made butterflies flutter in your stomach. you watched as the numbers rose on your view count, your fingers teasing the waistband of your panties.

rafe groaned, quickly locking his door as he stood his phone up on his work desk. “alright, it looks like i have a good amount of you in here, so i have some exciting news to share with all of you!” you angled the camera so your ass looked fuller. “my top donators can now message me privately! i’m very excited to interact personally with some of you.. rafe especially.” you giggled, watching the influx of angry emojis flooding your chat. rafe bit his lip, sending you a hundred dollars. “ah!” you squealed, bouncing up and down in your plush chair, rafe’s eyes glued to your tits.

“see! he takes care of me every stream..” you trailed off, leaning back in your seat, bringing your knees up to your chest. “i missed everyone so much,” you half moaned, letting your tits spill out of your bra, “i haven’t touched myself since last week.. i think i’m extra sensitive this evening.” you parted your legs, your pantyclad cunt on full display. rafe licked his lips, noting the small damp spot between your folds. “i’ve been thinking.. since it’s friday i’ll let you guys choose what i do today.” you clicked your mouse a couple times, a poll popping up on the screen.

y/n wants you to pick..

- try out a new toy w/ me <3

- feeling simple, only fingers today

rafe thought for a second, instead of choosing between the two, he proposed something different.

rafecam: how about you fuck yourself with that pretty clear pink dildo of yours and moan my name when you cum?

you read his comment, your thighs rubbing together. rafe felt the corner of his lip lift as he watched you get up, coming back with the same dildo he was talking about. “i don’t normally do name tributes, but you’ve been pretty consistent rafe.. so why not?” you watched as donations started coming in, all asking for a name tribute. rafe felt himself getting annoyed with the other men in your stream, sending you no where near as the amount he sends you, asking you to say their name too.

without hesitation, rafe sent you three hundred dollars, with the added note; thank you beautiful. “what?!” you gasped, having reached your money goal for the day. “you’re too sweet, thank you,” you emphasized the ‘you.’, moving the camera up so the lower half of your face was now in frame. rafe sat mesmerized by the fullness of your lips, and that pretty smile before you brought the dildo up to your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. “fuck,” rafe felt himself getting hard in his shorts as you started taking inch by inch into your throat. you moaned, and for the first time ever he felt jealous that it wasn’t his cock instead.

you smiled, tapping the damned thing on your tongue before you got back in your original position, this time your underwears were gone, and your cunt sparkled with your slick. you ran the tip down your folds, teasing your entrance as rafe watched intensely. a whine cut through the air as you inserted the toy, your fingers circling your clit. rafe glanced at your hands, you had french tips on your nails and silver rings on your fingers, he even saw a small bow tattoo on the side of your middle finger.

“i don’t know everyone, this feels like it might be a short stream.” you laughed nervously, your eyebrows knitting in pleasure as you kept a steady pace. “mhmm, fuck,” you gasped, hitting the spot that made your eyes screw shut. rafe’s jaw ticked as he tried his best to ignore his growing erection. “this feels so good, i haven’t been fucked in so long..” you were telling the truth. you’ve been a homebody since exams started and you really weren’t the one for casual hook ups either. you could barely contain your moans as you rubbed your clit faster. rafe found your struggling not to cum too soon to be the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

your obvious desperation to get yourself off, paired with the restrain to let yourself over the edge was truly a glorious sight. rafe ached in his boxers, refusing to be like every other loser in your livestream. you felt the familiar knot in your stomach, your head rolling to the side as you started to hear your heartbeat in your ears. rafe could tell by the way you were clenching around the toy that he now hated, you were close to finishing. rafe didn't know what he wanted to do to more now; edge you for hours until you're begging him for his cock, or making you cum so many times that you cry.

"i don't think i could hold off anymore," you cried, your thighs shaking as you plummeted into pure bliss. "rafe!" you cried, cumming harder than you could currently handle. "oh, my god," his name falling from your lips is forever going to be ingrained in his brain. you shook violently, still fucking yourself as you felt a pressure in your lower abdomen. "i think i'm go-" you screamed, feeling a gush come from your cunt. rafe's mouth fell open as if he was moaning silently. "what a fucking show." he whispered to himself, your legs trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "i've never done that before." your voice was weak as you laid with your thighs open, your pussy still on full display. rafe watched your tits rise and fall with each breath, your hands resting on your stomach as you gathered yourself.

after a minute, you sat up, pulling a pink robe over yourself as you blew a kiss to the camera. "i really enjoyed tonight's stream, but if you can't tell i'm exhausted," you laughed, your hair falling to your waist, "i'm going to go clean up and get cozy for bed, but i hope to see some messages from my top donators now! all you have to do is click the message icon when you view my page. until next time!" you ended the live, a sigh falling from your lips.

rafe stared at the blank screen, his cock painfully hard. he decided he was going to clean up as well, a cold shower is what he needed right now. although the idea seemed to be a good one, he still fisted his cock to the echoing sound of you moaning his name. during your own shower, you wondered if rafe would message you, apart of you really hoped he did. even though you hadn't viewed his account, he seemed like someone you could have good conversation with. it wasn't until after you got in your pj's, did your skin care routine, and settled into your sheets that you pulled your laptop up, where twelve messages awaited. rafecam being one of them. saving the best for last, you answered the other messages first, opening rafe's with a smile on your lips.

[9:12 PM] rafecam: i won't lie, i debated with myself if whether or not i should send you a message. i don't watch porn, i never masturbated, i didn't have to. but tonight i found myself doing both of those things. just thought i'd let you know that.

you read his message several times, examining the words one by one until it was brainrot. it's rare for a man to say he doesn't have to pleasure himself, presumably because he has willing candidates at the snap of a finger. clicking his username, you scrolled through his public information, wanting to know something, anything about this mystery of a, quite generous, viewer. age; twenty-two, joined; july of 2023, resides in; outer banks. your eyes widened, your heart dropping in panic. he was so much closer than you thought. maybe a little too much. you were just one ferry away on the mainland. your roommate, however, is from outer banks herself. fuck, what if she knew this guy? you breathed out, staring at nothing as you started to rethink your life choices.

what are the chances that you would even see each other? there's nothing on outer banks that would make you go over there, and vice versa, or at least that's what you told yourself when you typed up a response.

[9:20 PM] y/n: well i'm happy that you messaged me. as for getting yourself off to the thought of me? i would say that means i'm doing something right lol.

[9:22 PM] rafecam: most definitely. are you going to sleep already?

[9:23 PM] y/n: not yet, i thought about watching a movie or something before then. you?

[9:25 PM] rafecam: nah, i'm actually catching up on a lot of work right now, it's kind of stressing me out. nothing new though.

you bit your lip, hesitating to send your next reply, not knowing if you'd be getting too personal or not.

[9:28 PM] y/n: what kind of work? are you currently in school?

[9:30 PM] rafecam: no actually, i co-own my dad's company and he has me in charge of ordering all of our supplies and taking inventory, boring stuff really :/

[9:32 PM] y/n: sounds like you're a very hard worker, i like that. i've been having to catch up on some work myself..

[9:32 PM] rafecam: school?

[9:35 PM] y/n: unfortunately yes lol. i'm majoring in psychology so it keeps me very occupied.

[9:36 PM] rafecam: is that why you stream?

you sucked in a breath. honestly, school was the only reason why you decided to start your channel. your parents helped you out a lot, already having your semesters and books covered, but it was up to you to make extra money for yourself.

[9:40 PM] y/n: yes. i try my best though.

[9:41 PM] rafecam: i respect it. well, i'll let you do your thing, i'm hoping to finish what i have to do tonight so i won't have to worry about it tomorrow. the last thing i want to do is work on my birthday lol.

[9:44 PM] y/n: omg!! happy early birthday <3 am i the first one to tell you?

[9:45 PM] rafecam: lol yes, thank you sweetheart.

[9:47 PM] y/n: aww you're welcome. i'm gonna send you a little gift for yourself, these are never before seen, i hope you like them.

you attached four images from your own camera roll, two with lingerie and two fully nude. a lot of the times you took pictures but just for yourself mostly. it wouldn't hurt to share these, especially with someone who contributed a lot to you. rafe leaned back in his chair, admiring the photos you sent him.

[9:50 PM] rafecam: so much for showering lol, thank you for these, gorgeous. goodnight.

-

“will you please just go out with me? we’ve been roommates for almost a year and we’ve never hung out outside of school and here. my friends from back home would love you. i wouldn’t leave your side either, promise.” you looked up at chelsea with unease. after finding out that rafe lived on the outer banks, you didn’t want to go anywhere near there. “i really can’t, okay? i’m serious, i have so much stuff to do.” minor stuff, but still. you weren’t in the party mood, but to see chelsea so excited about something and then shrinking into herself cause you said no broke your heart.

“please.” she pouted, her hands coming together as if she was going to pray. outer banks wasn’t that small, and if the party she was talking about was a true rager, there’d probably be way too many people to even run into rafe, if the man was even there. you were being ridiculous and overthinking the situation. “okay.” you sighed, chelsea squealing as she pulled you to her room. “let’s get you ready.”

four hours later, you and chelsea were stepping out of an uber, both of you glancing at each other before taking in the scene before you. there was people already passed out face down on the lawn, even some walking on top of the roof with beers in their hands. “what the fuck.” you muttered to yourself, taking chelsea’s arm in yours as you two made your way inside. even though you felt confident in your white babydoll dress and sandals, you couldn’t help but notice that everyone was wearing either a bikini or a collared shirt.

“no offense chels, but was there a dress code we didn’t know about?” you laughed, your friend smirking. “this is what being a kook looks like.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. what the hell is a kook?

“hey, who’s the birthday boy anyways?” you and chelsea moved through the sea of people in what you assumed was the living room. chelsea squinted, looking towards a small group of guys by the back door. “right over there. tall one with the buzz cut.” she pulled you to the front so you could get a clear view. and what a view it was. the man in question was so tall, he made his peers look ridiculously small. sharp features, but his eyes were soft. “come on, let me introduce you.” you followed your friend, hoping you didn’t look like the way you felt; out of place and shy.

“yo, chelsea!” another guy pulled her in for a hug. you hated how awkward you stood there, too nervous to look up until chels started talking. “guys, this is my roomate and best friend y/n, y/n that’s topper, kelce, warren.. and the man of the hour, rafe.” your smile dropped as soon as the name fell from her lips. it couldn’t be. making a quick recovery, you nodded to each of them, your eyes landing on rafe, your heart skipping a beat when you saw he was already looking at you. rafe whispered your name to himself before saying it out loud. “y/n?” you nodded slowly, chels making conversation with others nearby. “that’s a pretty name.” he extended a hand, his frame towering over yours. your knees felt weak with the look he had on you right now.

“thank you.” you swallowed, giving him your hand. he held it, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “i’ve never seen you around here, did you stay here on figure eight?” figure eight? you shook your head. “no i’m from the city. me and chels- i mean chelsea and i go to school together.” he studied you for a minute. “what’s your major?” fuck. your lips parted, psychology spilling from your mouth before you could stop it. as if something clicked in his head, you internally panicked as you remembered your conversation from last night.

“psychology? you don’t say..” rafe trailed off, finally letting go of your hand. you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “enough about me,” you cleared your throat, “how old are you today.. rafe?” you were hesitant to say his name, somehow saying it out loud made everything feel too real. if he said the number you were anticipating, you might just have it in you to run away from all of this. “twenty three.” and there it was, the answer you were dreading.

it’s rafe, the same rafe that has sent you thousands of dollars over the course of seven months. the same rafe you moaned the name of last night, the same rafe you sent explicit photos to. it had to be. with a house as big as this, and the quiet luxury of his clothing, it would explain why he’s been able to shower you in donations. suddenly the room felt small, realization of the situation hitting you tenfold. “come with me upstairs. just to talk, it’s too loud down here.” you looked back at chelsea, your friend no where to be found. so much for not leaving your side.

“i think i should go.” you glanced up at him, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “just one conversation. that’s all i’m asking.” he pleaded, his shoulders falling in relief when you nodded. he guided you upstairs and into a room where he shut the door behind both of you. you took a seat on the bed, rafe leaning back against the door. “you know.. i never bring anyone up here. but you? i don’t mean to sound like a stalker or anything, but i feel like i know you.” his words sent a shiver down your spine. “i’m sorry, but i think you’re wrong.” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, avoiding his gaze the best you can.

rafe tilted his head, walking over to you, squatting down before taking your hands in his. he turned your palms over, noting the same manicure, same rings, and the same bow tattoo he saw last night. his heart constricted in his chest when he looked up at you, your face just inches away from his own. you were the most perfect little thing in his grasp. “y/n, sweetheart, i’m gonna ask you something and you’re going to be one hundred percent honest with me.” you waited for his next words like you were waiting for a sentence from a judge. you knew he cracked the code.

“what are the odds that you’re a camgirl?”

#‧₊˚✩彡 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #outer banks #outer banks netflix #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx smut

[bangchansnudes]

baby

fuckboy!hyunjin. 1.6k word. cliched enemy to lovers(??) with a douchebag hyunjin.

“don’t tell me you’re scared of some fake gore,” the boy whispers over to you, followed by a mocking chuckle, “need me to protect you baby?”

“shut up.”

“baby.”

“shut-”

“can you both shut up and just watch the damn movie?” seungmin says from his sitting position on the floor, his head turning back to glare at both you and hyunjin on the couch, “i swear if i need to pause it again, i’m throwing both of you out in the cold!”

if it weren’t for the fact that your roommate was dating seungmin, you would never ever interact with someone like his best friend, hwang hyunjin, let alone let him into your apartment.

but unfortunately for you, the two were the ultimate besties which meant where one boy went, the other usually followed. that’s why it had become a norm for the four of you to hang out. like right now, a weekend movie night.

you really didn’t mind seungmin, the boy was nice and treated your roommate well but hwang hyunjin was a whole other story.

hwang hyunjin. sigh. the boy was the literal definition of a fuck boy. an obnoxious frat boy who flirted his way through every living thing in a skirt. yeah, that was a way to describe him.

at first, hanging out with him wasn’t all that bad. you actually didn’t mind him either, the boy was somewhat funny and that face of his was just absolutely breath taking. one of the many reasons why he was so popular around town.

but then he began treating you differently, for some reason. he’d go out of his way to annoy you, to insult you, to tease you. he seemed to suddenly hate you and he made sure to let you know that.

and it had been hell since.

“i’m gonna make more popcorn,” you get off the couch and head towards the kitchen, sighing at the thought of having to spend the rest of the night with hyunjin. classes had already been hell for you so the last thing you needed tonight was a screaming match with the fuck boy.

“don’t do too much thinking, your small brain might explode.”

that voice. that god awful voice.

you turn around to see the devil himself leaning against the kitchen entrance, arms crossed over and a smug grin on his stupid handsome face.

“what? cat got your tongue babe?” he makes his way over to you, cornering you in against the kitchen cabinet, “or have you finally fallen in love with me?”

“fuck off hwang,” you push at his chest but the boy doesn’t budge, only laughing at your weak move, “i’m not in the mood to deal with your shit.”

“what do you have against me anyway?” he leans in closer to you, both his hands now resting on either sides of you on the cabinet, “is it cause i’m so good looking and so popular?”

gulp.

this has to be the closest you’ve ever been to hyunjin, his face barely even an inch away from yours. the smell of his cologne is attacking you from every direction, a very clear indication that he was way into your personal space than necessary.

“no hwang. i hate you because you’re so obnoxious and so self centred!”

“oh really?”

“yes!” your hands push up against his chest again as you say so, preventing the boy from coming any closer to you, “you think everything is about you! just because all the girls on campus wants to fuck you, doesn’t mean you can be such a douchebag all the time!”

perhaps you were crazy but you swear you could see his gaze move from your eyes to your lips as you spoke, the boy clearly not paying any attention to your words. you’re not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet, why he’s not throwing insults at you but the way he’s staring is making you more nervous than ever.

you try to avoid his weird, intense gaze by moving away but the boy stays put, his arms on either sides of you seemingly sliding closer to your body instead.

“mo- move-”

“do you wanna fuck me?”

“what the fuck hyunjin?”

“you said every girl on campus wants to fuck me right? well do you wanna fuck me?”

“of course not!”

“well that’s really too bad,” he scoffs, a playful grin on his face as his hands grab onto your waist, holding you in place, “cause i wanna fuck you though.”

your mouth is frozen, your mind unable to process the words that had come out of his mouth. maybe you were just hearing things because there was no way he had just said what he said to you.

the boy who had made your life a living hell these past two months wanted to what? fuck you?

“you... what?”

“i said, i want to fuck you,” his grip on you tightens with every word, fingers now gripping so harshly into your skin that you’re certain marks will appear by tomorrow morning, “and if you don’t tell me to stop, i am going to kiss you right now.”

gulp.

“th- this isn’t funny. let go.”

you let out a squeal when he suddenly lifts you up onto the cabinet and moves to stand in between your dangling legs. his body is now comfortably pressed against yours, his arms tightly around your waist while yours are resting on his shoulders. it’s a position you wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be in with him but here you are and you’re not pushing him away either.

“does it look like i’m trying to be funny?” his lips brushes past yours just slightly as he says so, a move you would’ve surely punched him for but at this moment, you don’t know how to react.

so many things are running through your mind, so many different potential reasons as to why he was suddenly acting this way.

“too late baby.”

and his lips were on yours before you could even respond, kissing you with so much force that your bottom lip immediately hurts. the boy is evidently desperate, wanting to taste more of you than just the surface.

his hands casually slides underneath your shirt as he continues to kiss you, causing an instant shiver through your body from his touch alone. you feel as though your body is on fire, every part of you screaming to be touched, to be pleased.

he moves away from you slightly after a bit, just enough for you to catch your breath again. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time, the intensity of his gaze only causing an embarrasing pool in between your legs. in addition to the pool that was already there during the kiss.

“if you just want to get your dick wet, well you’re not getting shit from me hwang.”

lies. you know for a fact that one more move from the boy and you’ll probably end up on your knees if he told you to.

but he didn’t need to know that.

“actually i’ve been trying for two months but you’re too fucking dense to notice,” he rolls his eyes at you, clearly annoyed, “why else would i spend every single weekend here? you think i really want to watch shitty b grade movies with the lovey dovey couple?”

“wait... what?”

“i flirt with you every single time! as if you really didn’t know!”

“being a dick is your way of flirting?” you make a disgusted face and slap his chest, “how on earth do you get girls everyday being this way?”

“well i haven’t had a girl in two months because the one i want is oblivious as fuck.”

silence.

...

more silence.

“well- well... i-”

“just shut up,” he smashes his lips onto your onces again, this time kissing you in a way that had your knees weak and your body feeling like mush. it’s a slow and sensual kiss, as if the boy is taking his time with you, wanting to feel every part of you.

you end up whimpering into the kiss when one of his hands moves to trace the thin lining of your pants, his fingers teasingly slipping past the band. but to your dismay, that’s all he does.

“hyunjin...”

“yeah baby, i’m right here.”

“oh. my. god,” you and hyunjin immediately freeze at your roommate’s sudden gasp, only to see her and seungmin standing at the entrance, completely disgusted, “i knew you guys would’ve ended up fucking one day but PLEASE not in my kitchen. PLEASE.”

“i told you dude. should’ve just confessed instead of giving me a headache for the past two months,” seungmin sighs dramatically before pulling your roommate away, “whatever, we’re going out. you guys play nicely.”

and the two are gone as quick as they appeared, leaving you and hyunjin alone in the apartment. no one says anything for a while but you don’t care. all you wanted to do was hide in a hole forever after being caught by your roommate and seungmin.

with a sigh, you decide it’d be best for you to get off the cabinet but hyunjin stops you.

“ah- i’m not done with you yet,” he says sternly, holding you in place, “we have a lot to talk about.”

“talk?”

“yeah like where you want me to take you on our first date.”

“who said i’d date you?” it’s your turn to scoff now, amazed at the boy’s confidence, “you wish hwang.”

“who you trying to fool? you were about to let me fuck you right here in this kitchen babe, so i’m pretty sure you wouldn’t say no to a date.”

“hwang hyunjin!”

“yeah baby, i’m right here.”

end.

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#bangchansnudes #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz fic #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #skz drabble #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabble #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin drabble #hwang hyunjin scenario #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin smut #hyunjin drabble

[daisynik7]

cw: mentions of food, smut - minors do not interact

Author's Note: This is a super silly nanami drabble, don't mind me! just coping the best way I know how - with smut LOL. MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune.

Nanami always craves dessert whenever you do. 

You’re staying with his family this year for the holidays, sleeping in the guest bedroom downstairs. In the middle of the night, you wake up, craving that extra slice of pie your in-laws saved for you, hiding like buried treasure in the back of the fridge. Not wanting to wake your husband up, you slide out of bed as quietly as possible, tip-toeing out the door and into the kitchen, turning the lights on to the dimmest setting. It’s a peaceful kind of quiet, the distinct chirping of crickets barely audible from outside. Someone snores upstairs, only obvious if you listen carefully. You take the first bite and break out into a blissful smile, savoring it in your mouth with your eyes closed.

Your ears perk when you hear the shuffle of slippers getting closer. Nanami appears, looking at you with bleary eyes and a small smile on his face. There are crumbs on your lips as you return his grin, sheepish for being caught in the act. “Hi,” you muffle, mouth still full. 

He chuckles softly, stepping towards you. He’s wearing a very adorable set of flannel pajamas, ones that match yours. “Having fun?”

You nod, offering him your plate and fork. “Want a bite?”

He yawns, sliding his hands on your waist, pulling you forward to press a kiss on top of your head. “I’m craving a different kind of dessert. Something much sweeter.”

Oblivious, you take another bite, saying, “I think there’s some leftover cheesecake in there – ”

“That’s not what I meant,” he cuts you off, amused by your misunderstanding. He takes the plate from your hands, setting it on the counter, wiping the crumbs from your lips with his thumb, sticking it in his own mouth for a taste. 

“Oh,” you utter, finally clicking. “Oh.”

Within seconds, your craving for pie is completely overtaken by Nanami’s craving for you. You’re propped up on the countertop, stripped bare from the waist-down, legs spread open for him as he eats you out, licking and sucking on your clit eagerly. His hair is bunched between your fingers, your grip tight on his scalp the deeper he devours you. One hand is pressed firmly to your mouth to hush your pleasured moans, the other has two digits buried in your wet cunt. He puckers his lips around you, suckling on your now swollen clit, releasing you with a lewd pop. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. So juicy, so delicious.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, breathing out onto his palm, gently squeezing his face with your thighs. “You’re so bad.”

“Only because you made me this way,” he grunts, removing his fingers to fuck you with his tongue, licking up every drop that leaks out of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine, impatient and desperate.

He drags you off the table, turning you around so that your back is flat against his chest, his mouth hot on your ear. He shoves the waistband of his pants down, releasing his hard cock, stiff against his abdomen. “You really want it? More than that fucking pie?”

You bite your lip, trying to contain your laughter. He can’t seriously be jealous of a piece of pie, can he? Not wanting to tease him further, you moan, “I want you more than anything, Kento.” 

He hums, satisfied with your answer, before he tips your chin towards him, kissing you fiercely, guiding his cock inside you while his other hand plays with your clit. “That’s right. Better than any fucking dessert you can ever have.”

Okay, so maybe your husband really is jealous of a piece of pie. 

#nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami drabbles

[transmascissues]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it #some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively #but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much #maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk #but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t #ask answered #testosterone #hrt #ftm hrt #hair loss #trans men #transmascs

[chastiefoul]

regret | alhaitham

a/n: a very messy drabble based on some idea that popped into my head. basically about a y/n who's very in touch with their feelings vs alhaitham handling those feelings (to nobody's surprise, it didn't end well)

tags: angstyyy

part 2 here

1.5k words

to say that you get along with alhaitham would be a stretch.

anyone would agree that your interactions consisted only of you always pestering him and alhaitham barely tolerating it. this causes amusement but also worries, you both being the polar opposites and all.

the arrogant and cold scribe versus the bright and cheery you. there’s a line, a wall if you will; that made everyone wondered, how long would the strange dynamic last before something eventually went wrong.

and it finally did.

❀

hanging out with kaveh is something of a routine, with you studying the same subject; architecture. people were always naturally drawn to you, kaveh wasn’t the exception. you both get along with each other pretty quickly, and he’s been a close friends since. you even got to know alhaitham through him.

alhaitham said once, that you both were pretty similar albeit with different words—or to quote him as he spoke with such exasperation, “archons, now there are two of them.” still however alike, he quietly also thought there’s a key difference, a very apparent contrast that he couldn’t help but notice, even he didn’t try to.

you and kaveh both were very in touch with your emotions, meaning all of your actions often solely driven by feelings. although with kaveh he wasn’t ashamed of this, always stating clearly—or unnecessarily,  if something had upset him. but you on the other hand chose to hide that displeasure, masking it with an uncertain smile, one that’s clearly forced. as though wanting to halt any further argument. that somehow infuriated alhaitham.  

everyday you would always greet him without any care in the world. even though every conversation you had with alhaitham, somehow always turned into something he had to won, that he had to have the last word. he also couldn’t figure it out himself what got him so worked up every time he talked to you.

❀

“kaveh, don’t you think alhaitham is a nice person?” one a peaceful lunch you asked. he shot you a disgusted look, as if the question had offended him. “are you in your right mind?” he quickly retorted. “well despite him looking so fed up and all that, he still talk to us, doesn’t he?” you played your food with your fork. “... and that’s why he’s ‘nice’? dear god the bar is in hell—no it’s even below the devil’s foot itself.” he sighed, really couldn’t believing his ear. what got you so infatuated with him anyway? in all honesty kaveh was having a hard time remembering if there was ever a time where alhaitham was nice to you, he only recalled your cheery attitude getting shot down by alhaitham’s apathy every single time.

wait. he knew what this is.

“you like him.” kaveh suddenly said. you couldn’t turn your head to him any quicker. “what?” you panicked. “you heard me. now i just need to hear you admitting it.” there’s a playful smile on kaveh’s face, he’s teasing. “you won’t, cause i don’t.” you said, trying hard to be calm while eating your food. “mmhm,” kaveh hummed knowingly, an annoying smirk plastered on his face. “you know what? i don’t have to listen to this, i’m leaving.” you pouted, gathering your stuff. “yes, and you know what your in-denial self should listen to instead? me.”

“shut up!”

❀

“good morning, alhaitham!” you greeted him per usual with high energy. he hummed a reply, acknowledging your presence. when you just lingered there showing no sign of leaving he sighed. “how many times do i have to tell you my office is not a playground where you can hang around however you please?” he asked, preparing to sort out the documents from the fresh pile that just came. “i was just—nevermind that, do you need any help?” you asked with a smile. however the harmless question just tick something unpleasant inside of the scribe, he knew you meant well, truly he knew that. “do i look like someone who’s incapable of doing my own job?” he questioned in a cold tone.

“of course not! i just thought since i was a little free-“

“right. you thought, that never went well though, did it?” the viciousness was out of nowhere, you were caught off guard.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you narrowed your eyes at the harsh words—like he was saying that you were some kind of an idiot. he was always ill-tempered towards you, but he didn’t need to be this harsh over a mere offer to help.

alhaitham could feel he was being unreasonably mean, but he just couldn’t stand it. your useless kindness, your warmth, your concerns over his well-being all of these were so strange for him and his initial reaction was to reject and mock them. alhaitham felt like he was above it, it was too troublesome. he was fine living up to this point without the concerns from other people, and he was sure as hell he wasn’t going to start not being fine without it anytime soon.

 “why do you always think i need help? or do i need someone to remind me when to have my meal, or telling me to be conscious of my sleep schedule? frankly, it made me very uncomfortable,” once he started he felt like he couldn’t stop. alhaitham was mad, but if someone had asked him why he also wouldn’t be able to find the words to explain. he just was.

“well excuse me for trying to look out for my friend!” you raised your voice.

“friend? i never once thought of you that way,” he said. that shut you up real quick. the confession left your mouth agape, your chest ached. just what you are to him then, for the past half-year? but then when you think about it again, when has he exactly treat you as if you were something more of an acquaintance? in the end it was on you to assume, but it still hurts nonetheless.

in the brief silence alhaitham found the answer as to why was he so aggravated every time he talked to you.

alhaitham was blunt, he was ruthless in commenting on things that are out of place according to him. he was arrogant, often thinking that he’s above everything else, this include his way of life. a life of solitude; without the need of other people. but then you came, and his principles was shaken. alhaitham was a lot of things, but none would say that he’s fickle. yet, his rage right that second was a living proof that perhaps alhaitham was never the winner of those meaningless conversations he had with you. that truthfully, you already had him at the first good morning greeting you had given him with a bright smile.

and that is alhaitham’s hardest pill to swallow. you, a single person managed to make him almost change his entire life principles he had believed his whole life. and that’s as terrifying as it is infuriating to him. he couldn’t let you sway him more than this.

after what felt like eternity you finally responded.

“there’s a limit to being heartless, don’t you think?” you weakly said, you don’t even know what you were hoping for as a reply honestly. “there’s also should be a limit to your groundless assumptions.” he didn’t even look at you as he said these things, which perhaps good since you seriously couldn’t hold your tears anymore.

you had never believed rumors about people, as you will never know the truth unless you verify it yourself. but there, standing quietly as your tears wet the floor; there was no denying it anymore, alhaitham was indeed a heartless man who has zero empathy towards other living being.

“maybe i was wrong about you, alhaitham.” you smiled sadly.

it’s better this way.

“you were. now if you don’t mind, i have work to do.” he stated firmly, meaning: get out. which you will do gladly once you said your piece.

“it’ll do you good in the future to not be so driven by your emotions,” he still thought he was in a position to lecture you.

“yeah? and it’ll do you to good get off your high horse once in a damn while, you’re not fucking better than everybody else, alhaitham.”

“maybe so, but i certainly know i’m above acting solely over any emotion i’ve felt in the moment. i stopped doing that after i turned six, actually.” to think he'd mock you for crying.

“fuck you, alhaitham. enjoy your ‘alone’ time, i hope it stays that way forever.” you walked away from his office, swearing to yourself that it will be the last time you set foot on that damn place. alhaitham rarely see you frown, and to see you that angry and he was the cause of it.. silence got the better of him, the insides of his chest was swirling, he wasn't sure what to feel.

when your footsteps was finally out of hearing, alhaitham brought his palm to his face, his emotions getting the better of him. he saw the the hurt in your face, it was beyond saving. there’s nothing he could possibly say or do to get you to forgive him. and that was his intention of course, to get you to hate him. but he never thought he’d be ready for that.

alhaitham days quickly returned to the monotous routine. a quiet cycle, he thought he loved that. it's easy to realize that he did not anymore.

he's already so used to you. he kept waiting for you every morning, maybe if he wished hard enough you’d forget everything and just came back like nothing happened. but those days didn’t come, the memory quickly turns into anguish but more than that, regret.

aside from his ego, perhaps this regret is also something he would take to his grave.

-

part 2 maybe??

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin angst #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham angst

[melrodrigo]

tranquil

Wednesday Addams x G!N Reader

Summary: Wednesday gets a bad case of the late night feels.

Word Count: 600+

A/N: A short one simply for the vibes. Ty @wesstars n @mindyswhore for helping me out 🫶🏻 also i’m gonna mention @bingwriterxo simply cuz i miss her. Hope u enjoy!

It’s been a harrowing day.

After getting a presentation you’d been dreading for weeks done- which had effectively taken all your strength and social battery, you’d been hit with homework for every single class.

Which is how you ended up in your dorm, on a Friday night, sitting and stirring in a mix of damning pride and self-loath.

A knock on the door has your head shifting up and has you turning down the volume of your blasting classical music.

Classical music you’ve never cared for till you met Wednesday Addams.

Most popular loner to live. The infamous young detective. Psycho freak girl. A living black-and-white comic. All the names you can think of, but your favorite thing to call her is your girlfriend.

She’d played something on her cello one night while you were hanging out, and the music had flown through you so easily, lifting you and rattling you to the bone. It had been so magical you had to ask her what she was playing.

You saunter over to the door, somewhat unwillingly, believing you’ve had enough social interaction for one day, but speed up when another knock sounds- this time louder and more hurried.

“What.” You growl, before even looking at your personal space intruder.

“Are you playing tricks on me?” Wednesday, your girlfriend of two years, asks the moment you open your door. Her expression is stoic, as always, but a quiver in her lip tells you better.

The sight of her has the opposite effect on you as it would others.

You feel that little jump like you do every time you see her.

You cock an eyebrow at her, mouth upturned slightly on one side. “Well hello to you too.”

She ignores your comment, favoring instead to walk briskly into your dorm room, one that belonged to you and only you- perks of being the headmaster's kid.

You watch her as she breathes in deep, a display of immense emotion for the Addams, and sags her shoulders.

Contrary to popular belief, Wednesday did have emotions, and not to toot your own horn, but you were well versed in all her different moods by now.

But right now, there’s a different feeling in the air you can’t quite place. She seems…unguarded, unnaturally open.

You shut the door and lean back into the wall in time to see her turn around and walk up to you. She stops just centimeters away from you.

“What’s this about me playing tricks on you?” You question, a little hesitant, distracted by the glint in your girlfriend’s eyes. They barely show through her bangs nowadays, but today they shine brighter, demanding your attention.

She’s blinking slowly, gaze flitting between your lips and your eyes.

This was a look you were quite familiar with.

“Does someone want a kiss?” You tease, placing your hands on her waist gently. You break out in a grin when she sighs at the soft touch.

“Do you enjoy knowing you have control over me?” She asks, tilting her head up to stare into your eyes properly. You look for a joke in her eyes, but her expression stays the same.

Your heart soars at her words. You, out of everyone, would know how much depth her words contain.

Wednesday Addams never says anything lightly.

“Control?” You prod, wanting to make the most out of whatever this mood of hers is.

She nods, looking so relaxed and adoring it makes your heart ache.

“Control.” She whispers, very much staring at you like she wants to grab you by the face and kiss you.

“Yeah? Like what?” You tease further, ready for her to take back her former comment and call you an idiot.

What she does instead, surprises you. She turns her back and talks.

“Why are you turned the other way?” You inquire softly, so as to not ruin the moment.

Wednesday takes another breath that has your heart beating faster.

“It…helps me express my feelings.” She says. You see her hesitate before speaking once again.

“I want you to control me. Or something very close to that. I don’t know what this peculiar feeling is, but it’s dreadful. I’d do anything you asked.” She says, turning around to meet your gaze.

You soften, reach up to brush her face gently. As much as you’re enjoying the vulnerability, you’re a bit worried about what came over her to be so open.

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” You ask her quietly, concern seeping through your voice.

All she does is laugh lowly, shaking her head and bringing a hand up to cup yours.

“I am well, Y/N. I’ve just missed you.” She says, leaning further until she’s pressed up against you, not leaving any space between the two of you.

“We saw each other today.” You say, somewhat meekly, blushing furiously due to your girlfriend’s unexpected antics.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Your absence leaves a hole in my heart.” She tells you, adverting her gaze like she’s suddenly overcome with doubt.

You take her chin in your hands and tilt her face back to you, wanting to get rid of any uncertainty she has about expressing her feelings. It took ages for her to even open up to you, and you never want her to go back to feeling guarded again.

“I missed you too.” You tell her, as sincerely as you can.

Wednesday’s eyes soften even more like she doesn’t believe you said it back.

Eyes all misty and cheeks tinted red, she looks good.

You lean forward and nip her lips, then pull her in harder when you feel her shiver underneath you.

She responds immediately, grabbing tight at your pjs.

You affirm your prior statements with the most tender kiss you can muster, and you know by the way she grips you even tighter that she understands.

#wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x y/n #fanfiction #lgbtqia #mine

[azriels-shadowsinger]

“All you do is push me away. I'm done. Whatever this is, it's done.”

Azriel x Reader

wc: 2.3k

a/n: responding to this request. sorry this took forever, i started my new job this week! also, thank you for 400 followers!!

prompt list

“It will be fine, y/n!” Feyre reassures, rubbing a gentle hand down your back. You bite your lip anxiously.

“I don't know, Fey. It's already awkward enough trying to introduce my boyfriend to the high lord and lady, the general, and scariest of all, Amren.” You chuckle. “But seriously, I’m even more worried about Azriel. He’s been so weird and distant since we ended our... situationship?” You sigh heavily. “Whatever it was, he got all weird when it ended. I’m worried he’s gonna make tonight weird.” You whine.

“Rhys already talked to him. Azriel promised to be welcoming.” Feyre reassures

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You grumble. Truthfully, you knew very little about your new boyfriend, Wesley, and you had no idea how he would behave around your friends, but when Cassian caught you on a second date and blabbed about your new boyfriend to everyone, you had no choice but to introduce him to the group. Hopefully, Feyre was right that everything would be fine.

———

Everyone at the table was visibly uncomfortable, thanks to Azriel. He had spent the first half of dinner in a very tense silence, ignoring everyone’s attempts to interact with him. He only responded with mocking laughs under his breath at every other thing Wesley said. Rhys had tried to speak to Azriel in his mind, Feyre told you, but his walls were up and he refused to drop them.

You thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, but once the final course came out, Azriel switched from chilling silence to obnoxiously challenging everything you or Wesley said. You were going to kill him.

“So what do you do for fun, Wesley?” Feyre asks, attempting to alleviate tension.

“Uh, I like studying history.” He answers quietly. Azriel chokes down a laugh, and you internally groan at the most boring answer he could’ve chosen.

“Hm, that's weird y/n. I thought your usual type was...” Azriel eyes Wesley with distaste “much different.” You scowl at Azriel.

“I don’t have a type, Azriel.” You say defensively. “And if I did, it would be Wesley.”

“Sure it would.” He says smugly. “I seem to recall you have a preference for tougher guys, specifically Illyrians-“

“That is enough, Az.” Rhys commands, cutting Azriel off and using his high lord voice. Everyone sits quietly, not sure what to say next.

“I think I should leave.” Wesley says uncomfortably, breaking the silence and moving to stand. “Goodnight everyone, it was wonderful to meet you all.” He says with a forced smile before heading towards the door. You hurry after him, heels clicking loudly on the floor.

“Wes, please stay! There’s dessert, and I promise it won't be as awkward. I’ll make him leave.” You beg once you two are out of earshot.

“Don’t bother. You didn’t tell me you used to date him. That would’ve been great information to have going into tonight.”

“We never-“ he cuts you off.

“Save it. I have no interest in competing with the fucking spymaster. You are not worth the effort.” You visibly flinch at the harsh words and tears begin to form in your eyes, as he turns away. “I’ll see you around.” He mutters and leaves.

———

When you return to the dining room, Azriel is sitting there with a victorious smirk on his face, eating his dessert. One look at the rage in your eyes, and everyone else had the bright idea to leave you two alone.

“Are you happy now?” You holler.

“Kinda, yeah.” He says smugly. You let out a frustrated groan.

“You spiteful, ignorant, selfish male!” He laughs slightly at your outburst.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Could Wesley not take a little joke?” He grins.

“He broke up with me because of your gods damn immaturity!”

“Good. You can do better, he doesn’t deserve you.” Azriel replies nonchalantly.

“What the hell is your problem? Is this because I ended things between us?” That causes him to freeze, dropping any amusement from his face.

“No.”

“It is, isnt it? Well guess who’s fault that was! You don’t date, you told me so yourself. And any time I tried to get closer to you, you put up walls and shut me out.“ you let out an exasperated sigh. “Even now, all you do is push me away. So you know what Azriel? I'm done. Whatever this is, it's done.”

“There’s nothing to end, we aren’t dating. We aren't even fucking anymore.” He spits coldly, but you see the hurt lacing his features, matching your own.

“Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear.” You murmur. “Stay the hell away from me from now on.” You growl before exiting the room, leaving Azriel alone.

———

You had not so much as looked at him in three weeks, and it was driving Azriel crazy. He had assumed that with your now ex-boyfriend out of the way, you would eventually turn to him to resume your previous friends-with-benefits situation. He couldn’t help but miss your company.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys sat around the table at Rita’s drinking whiskey. As soon as Azriel began complaining about you again, Cassian rolled his eyes, finished his glass of whiskey, and stood up.

“I’m tired of hearing about this every damn day. I’m getting another drink.” He grumbles.

Azriel wasn’t sure why he was bothered so damn much that you were avoiding him. Sure, he had plenty of females offering him pleasure every time he went out in Velaris, there were two eyeing him from across the bar right now, but he didn’t want them.

“Honestly, what I miss most about her isn’t even the sex.” Azriel admits, slurring his words slightly as the alcohol takes effect in his system. Rhysand’s ears perk up at this admission. Previously, Azriel had only ever admitted to missing the consistent sex or complained that you were overreacting, but this was new. Rhys wondered if Azriel even realized what he was saying.

“What do you mean, brother?” Rhys probes.

“I miss the nights we spent talking. And how somehow she managed to know exactly what I needed, without me having to say it.” Azriel downs the rest of his drink. “I just want things to go back to the way they were. Like when she would fall asleep next to me and I would actually be able to quiet my mind enough for once to fall asleep too. Or when she smiled and I felt all warm inside. I don’t even know why I shut her out when she asked about becoming more. Maybe because it scares me.” Azriel prattles on, talking to himself more than Rhys.

“You love her, you idiot.” Rhys states, which immediately pulls Azriel’s focus.

“That’s not… don’t do that Rhys. Don’t put shit into my head.” Azriel says defensively. Cassian returns with another round of whiskey for everyone.

“What did Rhys do?” Cassian asks casually as he passes a glass to each of his brothers.

“I informed Az that he’s in love with y/n.” Rhys smirks and sips his whiskey.

“I’m not-“ Cassian cuts Azriel off.

“You totally are!” Cassian laughs. Azriel huffs out a breath and downs his whiskey in one big swallow. There was no use arguing with his brothers once their minds were made up.

“I gotta go.” Azriel mumbles and storms out the door. Rhys and Cass just exchange knowing glances.

———

You hear someone banging on your door late that evening. You want to say you’re surprised to see Azriel when you open the door, but no one else would bother you this time of night. You just look at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I was wrong before. I should've never pushed you away when you said you wanted more. I was just scared of how I felt and scared of getting hurt by you. I’m sorry for being a dick and I’m sorry for ruining that dinner with your ex-boyfriend, I just couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. Please, give me another shot.” Azriel has such a hopeful look in his eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I told you I was done.” You say, trying your hardest to stay calm and collected.

“But I-“ he takes a deep breath. “But I love you. Please, give me a chance to make things right.” You pause, mind reeling at the admission. As much as you want to admit the same thing, you can’t afford to get hurt by him again, so you do your best to calm your racing heart and force the words out.

“It’s too late, Azriel. I’m sorry.” You shut the door quickly before you can give in, immediately letting your tears fall once it's closed.

———

More weeks passed, and you eventually decided that you had to stop wallowing in self-pity and try to move on again. Wesley might have not been the one for you, but surely someone out there is.

You had decided to go out to Rita’s with Mor and eventually found a decently nice male to talk to. You two chatted for a while, and as the end of the night drew closer, you decided to shoot your shot.

“So, I don’t really do this, but do you wanna come home with me?” You ask the male nervously.” The lights of the bar turn on, indicating that it’s closing time.

“Yeah I-“ he pauses, looking you over. His eyes go wide and he backs away. “No. I can’t go home with you. I should’ve never talked to you.” He hurries off quickly, almost seeming frightened.

You turn towards Mor with a confused look, trying to ignore the hurt you feel from the harsh rejection. Did you really look that different with the lights on, you wonder.

The next day, you were in your room telling Feyre about the night before, trying to understand what went wrong.

“I don’t get it, Fey. We were having such a nice conversation. I was sure that he would agree to come home with me. But as soon as the lights came on and he saw me, he ran off. I didn’t think I looked that bad in the light.” You complain, flopping back onto your bed. Feyre choked on her drink for a moment, seeming startled.

“He didn’t…” she mutters to herself, shaking her head.

“What?” You sit up, confused. Feyre gets a far-off expression, likely speaking to Rhys in her mind about something. “What is it Feyre?” You ask curiously. She groans.

“The other day I overheard Az and Rhys talking, and Azriel made a joke about how he could just threaten all the males in Velaris that they can’t go anywhere near you. I assumed he was kidding, but I just asked Rhys about it, and apparently he wasn’t.” Feyre explains awkwardly.

“Are you kidding me?” You yell as you shoot up off the bed and storm out your door, muttering some apology to Feyre about having to leave.

———

You put a city-wide ban on dating me?” You scream angrily as you storm into Azriel’s room, not bothering to knock.

“Yeah, I did.” Azriel smirks at you.

“What the fuck Azriel? You don't have some claim over me! Call it off.” You shout.

“No.” His firm, unyielding voice gives you goosebumps.

“Stop it with the territorial male bullshit. It won’t change anything, so call it off!” You try to keep up the anger in your voice, but as Azriel stalks closer, you lose your boldness.

“I’m not calling it off.” His voice is dangerously low.

“Why not?” You mutter. Azriel leans closer.

“Because eventually you will realize that you still want to be with me, and when you do I don’t want anyone getting in the way of that.” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver slightly.

“I told you before. I’m done.” You try to sound confident, but it doesn’t come out quite right.

“Sure you are. Whenever you decide you wanna change that answer, I’ll be here.” He says with a wink. As you leave you feel conflicted. This may be the most territorial male bullshit you have ever witnessed, but you can’t help but smile slightly, realizing that Azriel basically just publicly announced his feelings toward you.

———

You lasted two days without returning to visit Azriel. You had told yourself it was to yell at him some more, but deep down you knew it wasn’t. Azriel opens his door after hearing you knock and looks genuinely surprised to see you.

“You win. You managed to scare off any decent male in Velaris. So congrats, I’m all yours.” You concede reluctantly.

“It was never about winning, sweetheart.” He shuts the door behind you, caging you between him and the door. You look up at him earnestly.

“Then what was it about?” You ask.

“It’s about getting a second chance to prove to you that I was an idiot. It’s about the fact that I will spend every single day for the rest of my existence trying to prove to you that I love you, and praying to the Mother that you decide to let me show you.” He whispers, leaning closer. You look up at him, seeing that hopeful look in his eyes again.

“Just one more chance?” Your voice comes out so soft he almost doesn’t hear you.

“One more chance, I promise that’s all I’ll need. I don’t plan on ever doing anything to mess it up again.” He answers sincerely.

“Okay then.” He doesn’t get a moment to process that you agreed before you pull his face towards yours, closing the gap between your lips. He immediately pulls your body into his and runs his hands through your hair.

“Thank the gods.” He murmurs into the kiss. You pull away for a moment.

“By the way, I love you too, Az.”

yes that last little bit about the dating ban was inspired by the deal by elle kennedy, but i just thought that was so funny and i believe without a doubt that Az could threaten all of Velaris to stay away from you

prompt list

taglist: @fxckmiup

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #my writing

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part II

masterlist

-> Pairing: König x fem!reader

-> Words: 3.5k

-> Warning: MDNI! nfsw, fem!reader, dominant!könig, size difference, over the desk, blindfold, unprotected sex, rough sex but there’s aftercare, google translate German.  

~> A/N: first time writing smut please go easy on me I beg of thee. 

It’s been a couple days since the training session with König. You've built up a nice routine around the new base and made some friendly conversations with some other new recruits both bonding over the complexities of your new home away from home. 

Would it be weird to say you miss the presence of the colonel? 

Is it strange that you’ve already become so attached to having him near those few times. Having his eyes gaze into you as though you’re all that exists? 

No right? 

 Right. 

 He haunts your dreams, appears to you when you’re most restless to smooth your hair under his touch and whisper sweet things to you, how he wants to be your eternal love, to live a life filled with passion and fire. Your veins run with lava as his hand in your hair traces down to your neck, so small in my grasp, he tells you, how easy it would be to wrap my hand around and squeeze, he says it so sweetly to you. You hum listlessly, lost in his gaze and willing for his touch. You are mine and mine only you understand? You always wake before he even takes off a glove, you're drenched in sweat and the blankets stick to you. But these dreams are common since you’ve met him. You wonder if he dreams the same; if he’s coming to you in these dreams and expressing his deepest desires. 

Silly girl you think, he wouldn’t. 

 Sometimes you think you see him, the corner of your eyes play tricks on you. He’s too big to move that fast, but you feel the burn of his eyes on the back of your head when you’re in the kitchen making your morning drink at times. It feels the same as it did when he laid eyes on you in the meeting room, electric.

 “L/N!” You turn, it’s your captain.

“Sir.”

“Look honey I’m runnin late and these papers need to go to the big guy you mind handing them over? Thanks a lot.” He basically shoved them into your arms and you have to gather them up quickly as to not let them end up as a heap on the cold floor. This whole interaction lasts the better of 30 second.

Your eyes roll at the pet name and how this work could have been shoved on anyone else but no, gotta be the new girl. 

A new girl who most definitely totally doesn’t have a crush *ehem* ~ creepy infatuation with the boss. ~ 

 You vaguely remember the way to his office; the captain shot some directions at you as he walked away from handing off his task to you. 

To the left then the right then the door second to last one on the right. You repeat these as you readjust your grip on the papers.

 As you approach you grow more and more nervous, it’s just your super-hot boss who you’re giving papers to nothing more nothing less. But your hand stays still at your side, your other full of papers.

Just knock.

Your hand is in front of the door, and you knock loudly making your presence known.

 “Enter.” He sounds just as he did last time. Domineering.

You open the door slowly, the light in the hall behind you flickers and your heart beats in time with the moth's wings that fly directly towards that light. You feel like that moth drawn to the light. 

He sits at his desk, papers in his hand, he’s shed his utility helmet and usual mask for a plain black baklava which is fitting all the same for him. The whole room smells like him, it envelopes you and swallows you whole as you close the door. 

His eyes stay on the papers but his concentration isn’t on them anymore, it’s on you.

You’ve come to him, as he thought you would. His mind has been on nothing but you, your file is always on his desk, he’s memorized every word on it.

His favorite colors are now those of your eyes, hair, lips and skin. You’ve become his very own Medusa and he can’t help but become stone when he sees you. If only you knew the grasp you had on him. If only you would grasp him and hold him tight.

 “You have something for me yes?” The lamp behind him casts him as a shadow and illuminates his figure but his eyes are bright.

You walk closer, the room is quiet besides some soft music on the record player on the far side of the room next to another door. 

“The captain requested I bring you these papers, important intel I suppose.”

“Shame. And here I was thinking you’ve just come to visit me.” There’s that teasing tone again. 

Your cheeks heat up despite your best effort to maintain a cool façade. You’re upset you don’t have a mask to hide your expression.

 You hand him the papers, neatly organized now. He reaches with one hand and takes them from you, his gloved hand brushes yours and you lock eyes, goosebumps race up your arm from the point of contact.

You grin and look down.

“I would think you’d have more interesting visitors than me colonel.”

He grows stiff at your mention of rank, calling him by his title. 

His eyes scan the papers noting the important parts.

“Schatz, you are the most important visitor I’ve had the honor of having.” His gaze is heavy on you.

You are still at his words, is he insinuating what you think he is? 

He’s holding bait right in front of your face. 

“I highly doubt that sir, a guy like you must have many visitors….I’m sure you have many beautiful suitors.”

You bite.

He chuckles, it’s low and deep and he groans at the end. 

“I have my eyes on one Ja. She has become the object of my attraction.”

Your heart skips a beat wondering if he means another woman besides you. You bite your lip wearing at the skin. You open your mouth to start and then close it.

He watches your mouth as you do so and wishes to feel it upon him, as you take him wholly.

“Speak, do not hold your tongue.” 

“I-I um I suppose I’m just curious as to what woman could gain your attraction. To be honest sir I thought you were married.”

His attention is most definitely no longer on the papers, or anything job related. His mind wholly encompassed by you and your words. 

He hums lowly and you imagine that it vibrates his chest.

“Come to this side of my desk Schatz.”

You obey, walking to the other side of his desk and standing next to him, facing the door you entered in.

“My desk, do you see any family portraits?”

“No sir.”

He takes off his gloves and you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.

“Do you see a wedding band?”

“No sir.”

After this he stands, his full height towering above you combined with the soft music, dim lighting, and the way he looks down at you makes your knees weak and your lower stomach burn. He walks over to the door you entered and stands for a moment. You wonder if you’ve asked too much, dug yourself a hole and he’s about to ask you to leave.

“I’m sorry if I stepped over the line I didn’t mean it, I can leave if you want.” He locks the door. Your heart locks up all the same at the sound.

“No, Schatz I’d rather you stay, and I think you'd rather stay too. Am I right?” He turns his head to look at you and the way he’s standing you can see all the muscles in his back defined from the lighting and you yearn to rake your nails over them and leave a well-deserved mark. 

“I would.” Your words are breathy, and you hardly know if you spoke at all but his response confirms you did.

He walks back over to you and your feet are stuck in cement. He stops when he's behind you. You can hear his breathing behind you so you know he’s actually there, he's real and this is real.

“You know I watch you right? Does it frighten you?”

“No colonel.”

“None of that here, not anymore. Just König ok Süßes Mädchen

Your knees actually nearly do give out this time, God he’s too much. Your breathing is quick now and you feel feverish he’s not even touching you yet but standing there and you don’t know what will kill you first your rapid heart rate or the anticipation.

“You want me, Ja?

“God yes.” You nearly whine and he lets out a deep laugh. He readjusts his stance.

“Do you usually get this worked up before you’re even touched?” His voice is lighter now, he’s teasing.

“Only for you.” You say almost immediately.

“Say that again.” His voice is dark again and it makes your stomach twirl.

“Only for you König.” You’ve stepped headfirst into the lion’s den and you know there's no going back from this, you thought it was just a silly crush but this is so much more, for the both of you.

He inhales deeply and lets it out, even with his mask you can feel it lightly on the back of your head. 

His head is spinning with thoughts of what he wants to do to you, you were making him crazy. 

“Ich schwöre bei Gott, Liebling, du wirst mein Tod sein.” [I swear to God darling, you will be my death.] You're not sure what he said but you hear his groan at the end so it must be erotic. 

“Konig, please.”

“Shhh quiet Schätzchen.” 

There's a beat of silence and you think your heart stops then you feel his hand on your back. It travels up until he gets to your hair, he grabs a handful of it but doesn't pull or tug, just holds. You’re growing wetter by the minute and you ache deeply. You rub your thighs together and that’s when he pulls. 

He tugs you back into him and your head is pointed up now so he's looking directly down at you. You whimper and his eyes are nearly pitch black as he stares at you, he drinks you in as if you’re the last bit of water on earth.

“Scheisse you know if we do this there is not going back, I will not let you lay with another and I will never lay with anyone besides you.” His words echo in your head and you weigh your options,

Option A: sleep with König, your superior and maybe face some very serious consequences.

or…

Options B: go back to your room and absolutely resort you what’s in your bedside drawer to relieve yourself…..

Survey says, option A all the way.

“I wouldn't want it any other way sir.” You make sure to say it extra breathily as to draw him into the spiral he's sent you into.

His grip tightens ever so before he releases and you stumble a bit but a hand on your waist catches you and the coals within you are stoked even more to where they rage into an inferno.

“I would like to share more of myself with you eventually but for now... This will have to do.”

He says no more before fabric is enclosed around your eyes and your vision darkens. It must be his regular mask because it smells so strongly of him it makes you dizzy, his scent all encompassing.

“König.”

“My name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips, I beg to hear more of it.”

His hands, both of them, are on your middle now he holds you steady and moves them upwards and cups your breasts above your uniform you let out a soft breath.

He closes his eyes and inhales deep against your crown.

“I knew you would smell wonderful Mein Schatz. You feel like heaven in my hands you know that?”

His hands move to the buttons of your uniform and he wastes no time in discarding it to the ground along with your undershirt. 

“Turn around.” 

You turn around and he once again grabs tight on your hair pulling your head back and exposing your neck.

He pulls up his baklava knowing he won’t be seen.

He bites.

Hard.

You let out a shameless moan and quickly slap a hand over your mouth, but he grabs your wrist and holds it behind you back your other hand is grabbing onto his hair.

“You’ll express your pleasure. I want everyone to hear so they know I’m occupied.”

He’s sucking dark bruises into your neck and leaving teeth marks in his wake. He lavishes in the way your skin tastes. He knows you sweat at some point today and your perfume is on his tongue.

“König please, I need more.”

“Gladly.” You feel him smile on your skin.

Next thing you know you’re spun around again and you’re pushed down over the desk his hand heavy on your neck.

“Stay.” He commands.

His hand is removed and he works at your pants pulling them down and to your ankles, he slides his hands all around the newly exposed skin and you hear his drop to his knees.

“Mein Gott, you are something to behold, you are beautiful you know that?”

You blush the heat growing hotter between your thighs.

There’s no time to respond before he’s diving into your heat tongue hot and wet upon you as he sucks and licks like his life depends on it.

“You taste divine, I could die here and die a happy man Liebling, scheiße” 

You moan and your cheek touches the cold wood of the desk as he continues his ravaging.

“König please, I need-need more.”

He hears your pleas and it spurs him on, he’s desperately hard in his pants and palms at it a few times before collecting your wetness and entering one then two fingers. 

“Is this enough for you? Or do you need more? So bedürftig.” He teases as he pumps them in the out in a come-hither motion getting quicker and quicker. 

Your breathing picks up. It’s in short pants now as you get close and closer to the edge. He can feel you squeezing his fingers tighter and he latches his mouth back on as his fingers works faster.

“Come on Schatz give me a show.” He smiles and teases and he just can’t get enough even as you try to thrash and tense on his fingers reaching your high you chant his name and he’s heard nothing sweeter.

“You make such beautiful noises Meine Liebe .” He bites at the inside of your thighs as he stands.

You hear a belt buckle and a zipper undone, mouthwatering in anticipation as you’re still coming down from your previous high.

He takes himself out and strokes it slowly a few times placing a hard harshly on your hip as he lines himself up and teases the tip at your entrance.

He’s massive compared to you and he’s burning up looking and predicting the way you’ll feel around him.

“Schatz, one last chance to change your mind.” He grits through his teeth.

“Please König, I need you badly.” 

He takes not a second longer after you answer to sink fully into you and to say you’re surprised is an understatement. He’s huge, incredible deliciously huge and the stretch of him knocks the breath from your lungs and he bends over you, his whole body laying just above you so his mouth is right next to your ear.

“You feel even more incredible than I could ever dream, you wrap around me so sweetly.”

He pulls back and braces both of his hands on your hips with a bruising grip and starts moving, he’s deliberate and calculated with his movements thrusting deep and harsh.

You moan loudly with the blindfold all your other senses are heightened. You grasp and scratch behind you trying to slow his movements you mind hazy with only thought of how good he’s making you feel. 

“P-please, god König.” You can hardly make out your own thoughts, he groans and continues his onslaught of torture on you.

You try to slow him again but this time he takes a hold of your wrists and slams them down onto the desk. You continue to moan with abandonment.

“You’ll take what given to you, understand?” He leans down and kisses your cheek, panting you can feel the sweat on his face combining with yours.

Leaning back, he watches the way he enters you and the noises are unholy, seeing you bent over his desk so willing and drunk off of him nearly makes him cum right then and there.

Suddenly a knock at the door.

He doesn’t stop and you clamp both hands over your mouth now. He growls deep in his chest.

“Busy.” He grits out.

They knock again but he doesn’t stop.

“Are you fucking kidding me? c’mon be a good girl and let them know I’m busy.” His accent is heavy and laced with need.

You can hardly think straight and his words sound underwater. You only become semi-conscious again when he picks you by your shoulder, up holding you up to his chest by your neck as he continues his onslaught.

“Take your hands off your mouth unless you want me to tie those up too, I told you to tell them I’m busy.” He growls right by your ear and he thrust particularly hard and deep you choke on your sobs and a moan rips from your throat. It’s so erotic you hardly recognize yourself, the last knock was cut short, and you hear quick shuffling down the hallway. 

“Braves Mädchen, so good for me. Fuck, need you to cum with me I won’t last much longer.”

“F-fuuck don’t stop.”

The coil within you is growing and winding and you feel you’re heading headfirst into a spiral panting and calling his name with no care for the outside world you reach up and claw at what you can reach of his expansive shoulders certainly leaving marks and he groans and grinds to show his appreciation.

“Cmon, give it to me, give it to me.” He says, each thrust his hand on your hips growing even tighter and his thrusts getting sloppy as he nears his high. He grips your jaw now slipping a finger into your mouth and you taste yourself on them and the coil snaps.

Your ears are ringing, white blinds your vision, and you’re overcome with oxytocin unlike no other.

König fills you deeply grinding to the hilt so none of him is left exposed.

You feel boneless and limp in his arms but completely and utterly satisfied.

The blindfold is removed and he’s tapping your cheek, the finger that was in your mouth leaving spit in its wake but you have no care.

“Y/N, Y/N, come in back to me Schatz.” You open your eyes and hum.

“So good.” You hiccup and you see he has his baklava fully on but his eyes are crescent shape, his eyes look lovely when he’s smiling.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He’s pulling out and you wince but he’s quickly pulling his desk chair out for you to sit and gain you sanity back.

“That’s putting it lightly...” you can’t seem to wipe the dumb smile plastered on your face.

He’s pulling up his pants and re-buckling his belt, you get butterflies watching him do it.

He then walks to what looks like a bathroom connected to the office, coming back with a washcloth and cleans you gently kissing the top of your head.

“Cmon let’s get you dressed then yeah. As much as I love seeing you in my chair like that, we’ll play that scenario out another day.” He picks up your panties and stuffs them into his pocket and helps you put on your pants.

“I need those König.” 

“I’ll buy you some more, these are for my personal collection.” You huff, legs feeling like jelly, and he rubs your back as you’re buttoning your jacket.

“Very well, I won’t fight a losing battle for those, at least they’re not my favorite pair-

“I’d like those as well.”

“Stop it!” You both laugh and he sounds so wonderful worry free. 

He gives you some water and sits back at his desk. You stand in the same spot you were in before everything happened.

“That was a great pleasure and I hope it brought you the same.” God he’s so formal after just rearranging your guts, you laugh like a schoolgirl.

“I did, I um, would love to do this again, or just spend more time with you.”

His heart lights up and he knows he’s got you for good,

“Schatz, my door is always open to you, granted both my office and bedroom door.” He winks at you and you blush.

You walk to the door and look back at him before you leave.

“Don’t forget about those papers I brought you.” You fake authority.

“Yes ma’am.” He laughs and watches you until the door is closed.

He takes your panties out of his pocket already missing your presence next to him, next time can’t come soon enough.

#konig x reader #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig mw2 #konig cod #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #call of duty mw2 #könig mw2 #mw2 fanfic #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig x y/n #könig smut #cod smut #mw2 smut #kortac #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #tear you apart

[babyleostuff]

roses and dahlias | choi seungcheol

summary | [requested by: @lifeisnotajuunice] the reader being a florist and friends with dk, so one day he brings the whole team to meet reader at their shop and scoups is instantly drawn in by them

genre | fluff

pairing | idol!seungcheol x florist!reader

word count | 2.2k

author's note | while writing this i've realized how little i know about flowers (i literally have no idea how half of these flowers are called in my native language)

Taking a last look at the bouquet you were holding, you hummed in approval, weaving in some final pieces of baby breath to add a soft touch that would stand out in comparison to the crimson red roses and gerbera daisies. “Whoever this bouquet is meant for must be a very lucky person,” you thought, gently putting the flowers in a vase and placing it next to the eight others that were supposed to be picked up in the afternoon.

“They are for your friend, right?” Nodding at your colleague, you wiped your hands on the apron you got from said friend, looking one last time at the bouquet, which now looked even prettier as it stood on the sunlit windowsill. “They are having some sort of party for the whole team, and they ordered nine compositions for the staff,” you explained, looking over at your co-worker. 

“They look great, I’m sure they’ll love it.” 

“To be honest, I don’t think they know much about flowers, so anything will be good for them,” you laughed, remembering how Seokmin gave you peonies thinking they were roses. You spent the next ten minutes explaining the differences between those two, surely boring your best friend to death.

In his defence, they are kind of similar. 

“Will he pick up all of this by himself?”  

“Oh, no, he and some of his bandmates are coming later in the afternoon,” you said, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. The fact that most of them would be coming over in a couple of hours, made you feel a lot more anxious than it should.

You and Seokmin have known each other for so many years now, yet you’ve never met all of his friends properly. But there was one specific person that you were the most nervous to meet.

Choi Seungcheol. 

You always brushed it off as a silly little crush on a guy you’ve never even met, because no matter how delusional his fancams made you, that was the reality. The biggest interaction you’ve had was liking his Instagram photo, which you immediately regretted, and it’s not like he would pay much attention to you anyways. Still, you could feel your chest tighten at the thought of him actually meeting him. 

The rest of the day was busy as always. You helped the customers with picking flowers, making sure to put your heart into every bouquet you made. You’ve always wondered what history would each of these bouquets hold after leaving your shop - because to you, it was merely a job to put together a beautiful piece, but for the receiving person, the flowers meant so much more than that. 

Soon, the sun was setting, and people were rushing home to their loved ones, streets busy and loud. You proudly looked at the final order you put together, rolling your shoulders, hoping it would release some tension that accumulated throughout the day. 

“We’re here,” suddenly a loud voice pulled you out of your thoughts, startling you a bit in the process. You quickly put away all of the sharp tools that could harm you by accident. “And who would that be?” you joked, not bothered to check who's just entered.

Two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your back met a familiar chest. 

“You weren’t at the concert last week,” Seokmin pouted, when you turned around to face him. “Well, I have my responsibilities you know,” you laughed at his disappointed expression. “Besides, I wasn’t able to buy the tickets.” 

“You know you could’ve just called me,” he said, realising you from the hug, “I know, I know.” 

That’s when you noticed a group of other people watching you. And not just any people. 

“Right, I don’t think you’ve properly met before,” Seokmin said, putting an arm around your shoulder. “These are the only ones that bothered to help me, so they’re the best,” he said proudly, looking at his friends. 

“Don’t let Soonyoung hear this, or he’ll get mad,” said Seungkwan, you believed. You also recognised the tallest, and the one with glasses next to him - Mingyu and Wonwoo. “And that’s Joshua, Chan and Seungcheol,” your friend pointed at the blond man standing furthest away from you. 

You waved your hand at them awkwardly, clutching the cloth you were cleaning with tightly in your hand. They all seemed extremely nice, nothing but smiles on their faces, yet it was quite underwhelming meeting them all at once.

And it wasn’t even the whole band. 

As your gaze drifted back to Seungcheol, the realisation that he was actually real hit you slowly, like - he really was standing right in front of you. And he was as perfect as a person could be. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll just grab the flowers and leave,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bouquets. “Oh,” you managed to get out, trying not to sound disappointed, because of course, why would they stay any longer than needed. They were here only for the flowers. 

You pointed at the windowsill where all of the vases were. 

“You did them all by yourself?” Mingyu asked, his eyes wide with interest. “Yes, it’s all me,” you smiled at his fascinated gaze. It always made you feel so appreciated whenever people reacted that way at your work. It only assured you that you were great at what you were doing. 

“Can I take a picture of them?” you nodded, giggling at how excited he seemed. “We’ll be here forever if he starts taking photos,” Wonwoo sighed, sliding his glasses further up his nose. 

“But it really is a nice place,” Joshua said, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder. “Do you mind if we take some pictures?” he asked. Honestly speaking, even if you wanted to say “no”, you wouldn’t be able to. He looked so genuinely polite and nice.  

You went back behind the counter to give the boys some freedom, yet your gaze couldn’t help but wonder toward Seungcheol. He was posing in front of a bunch of tulips and orchids, his blond hair standing out amongst the violet and burgundy flowers, making him look almost ethereal, as the setting sun was illuminating his face.

Seriously, you had to stop ogling him, even though you were sure he’d already noticed how you were staring at him. You caught him looking at you a couple of times in the span of the last ten minutes, but that couldn’t be true, it was silly for you to even think so.  

The boys, on the other hand, looked like they had genuinely a lot of fun, trying to guess the different flowers’ names, and doing the silliest poses in front of the camera. 

Busying yourself with cleaning, you searched around for the little stool you always used to reach the higher shelves, but it was nowhere to be seen. It’s almost like it magically disappeared when you needed it the most.

Giving up, you sighed, and got up on your tippy toes to put back all of the equipment. What you didn’t quite think about was the fact that the floral branch cutter was a lot heavier than you expected. You yelped in surprise when it suddenly started slipping out of your hands. 

Right as you closed your eyes and prepared yourself to get your foot smashed by it, you felt a warm hand on your lower back, and another one holding the cutter, grabbing your own hand in the process. You slowly opened your eyes, just to be met with Seungcheol’s face.

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried, concern written all over his face. “Yes, I’m okay,” you said, although you were sure it came out more like a whisper. “It was too heavy, and it kind of slipped out.” 

God, did you really have to embarrass yourself like that now? 

“Are you sure everything is alright?” He asked again, as if he didn’t believe your words. You nodded, letting go of the cutter, as he reached for the shelf with ease. “Let me help you with the rest,” he said, looking at the rest of your stuff that was laying on the countertop.

“Why didn’t you ask for help, you could’ve gotten hurt,” he scolded you, his eyes looking straight into yours. 

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he being so protective of you? 

“Shut it, he’s just being nice,” you thought, brushing off the warm feeling settling in your stomach. 

“I didn’t mean to sound rude before,” he suddenly said, fidgeting with his fingers. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of us. We’re kind of a lot,” he laughed, running a hand through his gorgeous hair.

His eyes had a certain softness to them, looking at you like you were something precious to him. But he looked at his members the same way, so it surely didn’t mean anything. 

“It’s okay,” you managed to hold your voice steady. “I’m happy you got to take some photos. It looks like you’re having fun,” you smiled at him, trying to memorise every detail of his face before he’d be gone - his golden brown eyes, the way his long black eyelashes would flutter, and his smile, that made your knees weak. 

“We do. It’s nice to do something like this after work,” he said, placing the last cutter on the shelf. “Is there anything else I could help you with?” 

You looked around the shop. “No, I think that was it.” 

“Okay,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how he sounded almost upset. “I guess I’ll get back to the boys.” 

It was impossible for you to know that Seungcheol was freaking out about this even more than you were. 

He has seen you a couple of times before, when you were visiting Seokmin in the practice room, or at the backstage after a concert, yet he has never gotten a proper chance to talk to you, and introduce himself.

And Seungcheol was dying to do so.

He didn’t know when this crush started, probably around the time he noticed how his heart would beat a bit faster whenever he’d hear you laugh. 

“I just wanted to say that all of the bouquets are amazing,” he said, the moment you came to terms with the fact that this was the end of your conversation. “They’re really beautiful.” 

“Oh, thank you. I hope your staff members will love them as well.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Seungcheol said. “Who’s this one for?” he asked, pointing at the garden roses and dahlias. “It’s for a wedding.” 

“It’s roses and?” “Dahlias. My favourite,” you said, staring at the flowers. 

“Coups, could you come here for a second?” All of a sudden, Joshua’s voice echoed through the shop, making you eternally cry, because you knew that if Seunghceol would leave now, you’d never get to talk again. 

“Um, I guess I’ll see what he wants,” and with that Seungcheol walked away, leaving you disappointed and frustrated.

“Someone here has got a little crush,” Mingyu approached you right after Seungcheol left, with a smirk on his face and a weirdly suspicious expression. “What do you mean? We were just talking,” you tried to sound as nonchalant as you could, because there is no way he could know about your crush.

“I have never seen him so smiley and giggly with anyone he has just met before. His eyes are basically heart shaped when he looks at you,” he said, leaning on the counter next to you, his smirk only widening. “Besides, he kept looking in your direction all the time.”

A “what?” slipped past your mouth, making Mingyu laugh. “Well, it looks like he’s not the only one who’s a bit in love,” you smacked him on his shoulder. “I’m not in love, and neither is he.”

“Sure. Let’s get back to that when you’re at HYBE visiting your boyfriend,” he winked and walked away, leaving you stunned and speechless. 

“Okay guys, let’s wrap this up and get the bouquets which we really came here for,” said Seokmin, grabbing the first vase. 

“Remember to keep the tulips in full sun and to put the magnolias in water first thing when you get home,” you said, carefully helping them with each bouquet. “Seokmin, don’t hold them so tightly, you’ll break them,” you scolded your friend. 

“How come all of the gym rats came to help with something as delicate as flowers,” Seokmin wondered, shifting his grip on the flowers. “I’m not a gym rat,” Joshua said, earning a swat on the shoulder from Seungcheol. 

Saying your final goodbyes, each of the boys left with a bouquet, chatting and evidently more happy than you were. You tried to find Seungcheol amongst them, to take one last look, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

You hugged Seokmin as he was the last to leave. “Our leader must really like you,” he whispered to you quickly, running away with a laugh before you could reply. 

Closing the shop after them, you returned to the counter only to be met with a single dahlia laying there with a piece of paper next to it. 

“The flowers are really pretty, but I think you’re the prettiest.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife

#seventeen x you #svt reactions #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen kpop #svt fluff #svt smut #scoups #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol fanfic #svt #cheol #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reaction #scoups fluff #seungcheol imagines

[kirbyskisses]

miguel o’hara x reader || “te amo”

chapter 2: “cafécito” (masterlist)

wc: 1.3k

(minors/ageless/blank blogs, do not interact)

“would you still love me if i wasn’t who i said i was?” the words dump out of miguel’s mouth before he can think to stop them and you turn around, incredulous.

he’s been on this earth for seven days and the guilt of usurping the version of him native to it, is still eating away at him as much as he enjoys you and gabriela.

your voice rings out before he can stutter a sudden apology or explanation.

“that’s a big question to ask before i’ve even poured a full cafecito, mi amor? did vulture bonk you in the head a bit too hard last week? can we start with a ‘good morning, my love. how did you sleep?’”

miguel gives a sheepish grin and shrugs out a ‘no, he didn’t.’ but it’s another technical lie. the vulture had injured the miguel you knew to the point of death but not the one who you’re kissing now.

he’s a replacement, a man from another universe who made a choice only a week ago to not leave you widowed, to not leave your daughter half-orphaned, and to not leave your nueva york without a spiderman.

but in the soft moments like this where his lips are on yours that he doesn’t feel like a replacement. where he feels that you’re his because you fell in love with miguel o’hara and he is miguel o’hara.

his lips are soft and intent on memorizing your taste - which at the moment is that of sugar and café bustelo.

“lo siento.” he chuckles softly. “buenos días, mi amor. how did you sleep?”

“very well, thank you.” you give a loving smile, handing him his small glass of coffee. “you know, you’re a lot more cuddly lately. it’s nice to fall asleep to - you should take time off more often.”

he chuckles. so he’s more of a cuddlebug than his past counterpart? that means you have spotted a difference.

miguel was hesitant to even share a bed with you this past week, still feeling like an intruder. it’s wrong to sleep next to a woman he doesn’t know but you do know him.

he knows you now too, having taken the whole week off of spider-man duty to adapt to being a father and husband.

sitting with lyla at the computer to memorize everything - your birthday, your anniversary, your family members and how you met. watching video of you revealing your pregnancy, of your wedding - every happy detail he can find to be the miguel you deserve.

it’s not him but it looks enough like him that he can close his eyes and pretend they are his memories with you until he has stayed here long enough to make some of his own.

and in little ways he has. it has been intoxicating to have you throw your arms around him and enthrall him with good night kisses; to fall asleep in the hold of a lover. with how small and comforting you are he’s gotten an addiction to holding you close - to having a constant reminder that you’re real and his now.

without warning your waist is wrapped by a string of neon red and jerked onto his lap, his hands happily gripping the fat of your thighs before roaming up and down.

“míguel! what did we say about webs in the kitchen?” you whisper harshly - raising your voice could wake the baby in the other room.

“ay, pero mamííí…” miguel whines playfully. “you said it yourself i’m a cuddler. you’re too cute to not be in my arms.” he chuckles and lets his nose and lips roam ever so gently up your neck with a smirk that hints at his sharp teeth.

whatever noticings you had about him being a bit different this week - it all melts away. he’d been a little more awkward, more spaced out, more terse. not responding to your inside jokes as if his mind was in another world. but now, you chalk it up to him having witnessed a hard death as spider-man the night he came in with blood on his suit. anyone would have an off week after that.

you know miguel has always been a hard working man but this is the one you know - serious but smiling, and deeply in love. your annoyance at being pulled in by his webs breaks and you roll your eyes, fingers pinching his cheek.

“you know, you weren’t who you said you were when we met.” you start, meeting his wide brown eyes that watch the curve of your lips as you speak.

“standing me up because you had ‘work,’ knowing all these strange facts about genetics and technology passing them off as some hobby, making up how you kept getting cuts and bruises. i swear i was one more missed date from popping you in the head, hombre.”

you flick his forehead and he pretends to flinch with a laugh before letting your hands glide through his dark brown curls.

“pero… there you were. la araña. and everything made sense. and i was mad yes - i bet all of nueva york could hear me chew you out that night. but i was still in love with you.” you give this soft, wistful expression that makes his heart race.

“so to answer your stupid, pre-coffee, way-too-early-in-the-morning-ass question; yes. i’d love you if you weren’t who you say you are. so long as miguel o’hara loves me y mija - i don’t care who he is.”

miguel feels the most overwhelming sense relief of relief spread across his bones and pulls you down for another kiss, words exhaled against your sweet lips.

“he does - i do. yo te amo.” and despite having only really known you for days, despite only having experienced the falling in love through screens and data collection and practiced sentences, miguel o’hara thinks he really means it.

“yo te amo también, araña…” you whisper.

the two of you enjoy the silence before you snap back up. “but shoot one more web in this kitchen and see if i don’t divorce you.”

“yes, ma’am!” he releases you hurriedly not letting his emotions show on his face, distracting himself with another chug of coffee that only makes his heart go faster.

-

there is one more difference you notice in miguel. it only catches your eye when he’s holding your sweet, little bundle of joy.

miguel fell hard and fast for the girl, who has inherited so many of his features even having barely just passed a few months old. he’s elated to have a daughter who he can father; he’s not the original miguel who met and courted and married you but he will be the father who sees her grow and walk and talk - possibly crawl onto walls if his arachnid genetics pass down too.

your answer to his question over coffee confirmed to him that he gets to be your husband but no confirmation is needed that little gabriela is his daughter and his alone.

it makes all that first week of pretending, all the intricacies of interdimensional travel, completely worth it.

he’s a brooding superhero, but he’s all smiles around her. when she giggles, when she eats, even when she makes caca, miguel is quick to cover her in kisses and praises at her very existence.

“i still can’t believe she’s real.” he whispers as he rocks her to sleep, body electrified by you hand on his arm as you both stare down in wonder.

“sí, es real. papí’s muñequita linda, no?”

“sí… mi princesa.” he kisses her head - she’s so incredibly tiny in his toned arms and against his broad chest.

when he places her in her crib and straightens as he stands back up - that is when the exact difference finally hits you.

“¿míguel, mi amor?” you start, “have you gotten…bigger?”

#x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x black reader #miguel o’hara x reader #x latina reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #fluff #angst

[lurkingteapot]

Every now and then I think about how subtitles (or dubs), and thus translation choices, shape our perception of the media we consume. It's so interesting. I'd wager anyone who speaks two (or more) languages knows the feeling of "yeah, that's what it literally translates to, but that's not what it means" or has answered a question like "how do you say _____ in (language)?" with "you don't, it's just … not a thing, we don't say that."

I've had my fair share of "[SHIP] are [married/soulmates/fated/FANCY TERM], it's text!" "[CHARACTER A] calls [CHARACTER B] [ENDEARMENT/NICKNAME], it's text!" and every time. Every time I'm just like. Do they though. Is it though. And a lot of the time, this means seeking out alternative translations, or translation meta from fluent or native speakers, or sometimes from language learners of the language the piece of media is originally in.

Why does it matter? Maybe it doesn't. To lots of people, it doesn't. People have different interests and priorities in fiction and the way they interact with it. It's great. It matters to me because back in the early 2000s, I had dial-up internet. Video or audio media that wasn't available through my local library very much wasn't available, but fanfiction was. So I started to read English language Gundam Wing fanfic before I ever had a chance to watch the show. When I did get around to watching Gundam Wing, it was the original Japanese dub. Some of the characters were almost unrecognisable to me, and first I doubted my Japanese language ability, then, after checking some bits with friends, I wondered why even my favourite writers, writers I knew to be consistent in other things, had made these characters seem so different … until I had the chance to watch the US-English dub a few years later. Going by that adaptation, the characterisation from all those stories suddenly made a lot more sense. And the thing is, that interpretation is also valid! They just took it a direction that was a larger leap for me to make.

Loose adaptations and very free translations have become less frequent since, or maybe my taste just hasn't led me their way, but the issue at the core is still a thing: Supernatural fandom got different nuances of endings for their show depending on the language they watched it in. CQL and MDZS fandom and the never-ending discussions about 知己 vs soulmate vs Other Options. A subset of VLD fans looking at a specific clip in all the different languages to see what was being said/implied in which dub, and how different translators interpreted the same English original line. The list is pretty much endless.

And that's … idk if it's fine, but it's what happens! A lot of the time, concepts -- expressed in language -- don't translate 1:1. The larger the cultural gap, the larger the gaps between the way concepts are expressed or understood also tend to be. Other times, there is a literal translation that works but isn't very idiomatic because there's a register mismatch or worse. And that's even before cultural assumptions come in. It's normal to have those. It's also important to remember that things like "thanks I hate it" as a sentiment of praise/affection, while the words translate literally quite easily, emphatically isn't easy to translate in the sense anglophone internet users the phrase.

Every translation is, at some level, a transformative work. Sometimes expressions or concepts or even single words simply don't have an exact equivalent in the target language and need to be interpreted at the translator's discretion, especially when going from a high-context/listener-responsible source language to a low-context/speaker-responsible target language (where high-context/listener responsible roughly means a large amount of contextual information can be omitted by the speaker because it's the listener's responsibility to infer it and ask for clarification if needed, and low-context/speaker-responsible roughly means a lot of information needs to be codified in speech, i.e. the speaker is responsible for providing sufficiently explicit context and will be blamed if it's lacking).

Is this a mouse or a rat? Guess based on context clues! High-context languages can and frequently do omit entire parts of speech that lower-context/speaker-responsible languages like English regard as essential, such as the grammatical subject of a sentence: the equivalent of "Go?" - "Go." does largely the same amount of heavy lifting as "is he/she/it/are you/they/we going?" - "yes, I am/he/she/it is/we/you/they are" in several listener-responsible languages, but tends to seem clumsy or incomplete in more speaker-responsible ones. This does NOT mean the listener-responsible language is clumsy. It's arguably more efficient! And reversely, saying "Are you going?" - "I am (going)" might seem unnecessarily convoluted and clumsy in a listener-responsible language. All depending on context.

This gets tricky both when the ambiguity of the missing subject of the sentence is clearly important (is speaker A asking "are you going" or "is she going"? wait until next chapter and find out!) AND when it's important that the translator assign an explicit subject in order for the sentence to make sense in the target language. For our example, depending on context, something like "are we all going?" - "yes" or "they going, too?" might work. Context!

As a consequence of this, sometimes, translation adds things – we gain things in translation, so to speak. Sometimes, it's because the target language needs the extra information (like the subject in the examples above), sometimes it's because the target language actually differentiates between mouse and rat even though the source language doesn't. However, because in most cases translators don't have access to the original authors, or even the original authors' agencies to ask for clarification (and in most cases wouldn't get paid for the time to put in this extra work even if they did), this kind of addition is almost always an interpretation. Sometimes made with a lot of certainty, sometimes it's more of a "fuck it, I've got to put something and hope it doesn't get proven wrong next episode/chapter/ten seasons down" (especially fun when you're working on a series that's in progress).

For the vast majority of cases, several translations are valid. Some may be more far-fetched than others, and there'll always be subjectivity to whether something was translated effectively, what "effectively" even means …

ANYWAY. I think my point is … how interesting, how cool is it that engaging with media in multiple languages will always yield multiple, often equally valid but just sliiiiightly different versions of that piece of media? And that I'd love more conversations about how, the second we (as folks who don't speak the material's original language) start picking the subtitle or dub wording apart for meta, we're basically working from a secondary source, and if we're doing due diligence, to which extent do we need to check there's nothing substantial being (literally) lost -- or added! -- in translation?

#translation #linguistics (sorta) #I love language so much #long post #subtitling #dubbing #transformative work #if you read all the way to the end - THANK YOU I am so impressed #localisation #this is not an academic essay but I still feel bad for not citing sources #low vs high context cultures and languages are concepts from intercultural communication studies #but idk how up to date that is or whether folks even still actually use them #I know they oversimplify things #but it helped me say what I was trying to here so shrug #languages #language soup #meta #language meta #fandom meta of sorts #thanks for the help sorting this out kayla <3 #my nonsense

[reputationmunson]

hi mads! how r you? i was wondering if i may request a enemies to lovers with fake dating between reader and steve? where she's shy and kinda nice with everyone but somehow doesn't get along with him... and suddenly they have a situation and have to pretend to be dating... btw, love your writing!

i’m doing well and i hope you are too :) thank you for the request and i’m so happy you enjoy my writing that means so much to me! i hope you like this and i hope it's okay i'm making it multiple parts!

-

Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

Part One | part two | part three | part 4

summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan (understatement of the year), so why does he ask you to be his fake girlfriend for a wedding?

content: enemies to (eventual) lovers, fake dating, mentions of drinking, swearing, a guy at the bar is kind of creepy, mentions of reader and eddie having a past fling, use of y/n (not too often)

word count: 3.7K

a/n: this is a little shorter than I anticipated, but I’m going to try and make future parts longer.

_

There’s something strange about having an “enemy”. Especially when that enemy is Steve Harrington. You don’t exactly consider him an arch nemesis, but there’s really no other way you can describe your relationship with him. You aren’t friends with him by any means, not anymore, despite your several attempts at kindness.

Cupcakes you made him got thrown in the trash, smiles you’ve given him had been reciprocated with glares, and every time you spoke was the perfect time for him to roll his eyes.

No matter how many times you try to pinpoint a moment in your life where you might’ve offended him or done something to make him have such a great dislike for you, there’s nothing you can come up with.

You never had many interactions with Steve in high school, which isn’t very surprising. You always tried to stay in the background with your nose buried in a book and he was the complete opposite of that.

You admit you had a teeny tiny crush on him in high school, much like the other girls. How could you not? He was so charismatic and carried himself with confidence. You weren’t as immune to the Harrington charm as much as you liked to pretend you were.

It wasn’t until he became friends with Robin a few years ago that you had your first real conversation with him. She’s been your best friend since you were six and if she was convinced he changed, then you were willing to give him a chance.

He seemed like a completely different person than the boy you used to pass in the halls as he talked about how wasted he got the night before with his herd of wannabe Steves.

He was friendly and also a little bit of a clutz. Sort of awkward, as well. He was still handsome, though. A lot more handsome. His eyes were kinder and his hair as lovely as ever. You always wondered how it managed to still look so soft after that much product usage.

After the first two months of what seemed to be a friendship, he flipped the switch. His words to you became grumbles and he always kept a distance from you, like he’d go into anaphylactic shock if any part of him accidentally brushed yours.

It drove you mad. The one thing in life you always tried to do was treat everyone with kindness no matter what and he made it nearly impossible. You had more friends in your life now than you thought imaginable and it was nearly perfect, but all you seemed to be focused on is how much Steve hates you.

From Steve’s point of view, he would never outright say that he hates you. It’s more of an annoyance. Your shared friend group constantly raves about how great and delightful you are. The kids, who aren’t kids anymore but always will be to Steve, idolize you. Everyone thinks you walk around with rainbows and sprinkles shooting out of every single one of your orifices.

You and your delicious baked goods that you make in celebration every time someone so much finds a lucky penny on the ground. You and your stupid perfume that makes you smell like a damn bouquet of flowers. Your dumb dimples and eyes that some might claim light up a room every time you smile. Don’t even get him started on the short, nonsensical pleated skirts you wear.

You’ll probably be wearing one of those skirts tonight when you all go out for drinks later and he dreads it, terribly. Definitely not because he’s attracted to you, no, that’s insane, but because of all the guys that are going to swoon over you and he’ll have to be responsible for making sure none of those creeps try to touch you.

Robin made it very clear to him early on that you are off limits. She told him he wasn’t ready for a girl like you. You’re different from the girls he takes on dates and sleeps with. You aren’t a ‘hit it and quit it’ kind of gal, as she put it. . She said you’re a hopeless romantic, spending the rest of your life with one person, the type of love they write songs about, kind of gal. Steve wants to settle down one day, but he also isn’t ready for that yet.

Apparently, Robin forgot to give Eddie the same speech because Steve caught the two of you in a hot and heavy makeout sesh at a party awhile ago. Steve put all of the puzzle pieces together that you and Eddie were secretly hooking up. It wasn’t hard to figure out with all the glances, giggles, and body language. Plus, the sexual tension was so obvious.

No one else knew, neither of you even know that Steve’s aware anything ever happened.

Yes, you and Eddie were hooking up. Past tense. It was nice at first, way more than nice. You’d never done the whole no strings attached thing and you felt comfortable with him, but then you both quickly realized that it would end in complete disaster and called off the agreement. Surprisingly, there was no awkwardness after, but you did miss him sometimes.

It was gratifying to be out of your comfort zone, but you needed more. You wanted a love that felt like an easy Sunday morning everyday, but as long as you were confined to Hawkins, you doubt that you’d ever find it.

-

The bar was absolutely packed tonight, crawling with regulars, college kids back for the summer, and high school students with fake ids. There was a bachelor party sitting in the corner shouting obscenities and catcalling any girl that walked by them.

It was overwhelming. Usually this place, even on its busiest night, is still manageable to walk to.

Your walk to the table where your friends are sat feels like you’re climbing mount everest.

“y/n! you’re here!” Robin hops out of her seat at the high top table and throws her arms around you, squeezing you a little too tight. You can smell the tequila on her breath and her cheeks are flushed. That, combined with her affection for you, alerts you she’s one drink away from being hammered.

Everyone else happily greets you, apart from Steve who gives you a tight lipped smile and takes a drink of his beer so he doesn’t have to say hi because god forbid he speaks one of the shortest words in the english language to you.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink. Does anyone need anything?” you ask. “I’ll go get your drink. It’s a madhouse in here, what do ya want?” Eddie offers and you lay your hand on his shoulder, making Steve subtly roll his eyes so no one notices. “That’s sweet, Eds, thank you. I’ll have a vodka cran please”

“He’s, like, so in love with you” Robin says and you laugh. Steve laughs too, but not out of being humored like you are. “He’s not in love with me. He’s just nice, unlike most of the guys in here” you say the last part a bit louder and look at Steve when you say it. His eyes roll again and you think that must be the only thing he’s good at because he does it all the time.

“Your beverage, madam” Eddie says as he hands you your drink and sets down a tray of tequila shots for the table. “Do we really need more shots, Eddie?” Steve groans. “Tapping out already, Harrington? I guess we shouldn’t be surprised” you tease and he scoffs. “Oh, that’s just rich coming from you”

“heyheyhey, can you two have your lovers quarrel another time? We’re all here to have a good time, okay?” Robin reminds you and you give her a sorry smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s not waste this tequila!” you exclaim

You all cheers your shot glasses and when you lick the salt of your hand, Steve’s eyes can’t leave you. He’s still staring when you put the lime in your mouth afterwards, you close your eyes in satisfaction and suck out all the juices. He hopes he never has to watch you take another shot again.

When your eyes open, you see Steve staring at you and he immediately looks away and pretends to be occupied by whatever the bachelor party to his left is doing. His mind drifts to the wedding he has to go to next weekend. One of his cousins on his fathers side of the family is getting married and he’s dreading it. Being surrounded by his snooty, rich family members who are all CEO’s of some business and they’re all married to or engaged to the ‘perfect woman’ that they undoubtedly cheat on while away on ‘business’ trips.

Speaking of business, they can’t keep their noses out of Steve’s life. When are you going to get a ‘real’ job?, when are you gonna settle down and have kids?, are you still living in that tiny apartment?. So no, he isn’t exactly looking forward to telling his family he’s a single loser who practically lives in a shoebox.

“Steve? Are you okay?” your voice brings him back from his thoughts. “Yep. perfectly fine”

“Ya sure? You seem distracted” he hates that you care. Eighty percent of the time, you’re still so nice to him, apart from a few jabs every now and then, despite his coldness towards you. “Just thinking, so you don’t have to pretend that you care.”

“Okay…I’m gonna go to the bathroom” you say before leaving the table.

“Why are you such a dick to her? She’s the nicest one out of all of us.” Eddie’s tone is sharp as he defends you. “I’m just stressed about this wedding I have to go to and my entire family is going to be there and I’m the only one without a date so that’s just another thing they’re going to criticize me for” Steve sighs and looks down at his drink.

“How about that girl you went out with last month? Trisha?” Nancy suggests and Steve scrunches his nose. “No can do. I realized I slept with her roommate after the first date” he cringes at the memory of walking into her apartment and seeing a familiar face sitting on the couch.

“You could borrow nance? She’d just have to take off the engagement ring” Jonathan jokes and the table laughs. Steve considers it for a half of a second, but realizes his parents already know about her engagement to jonathan. “Nice job, Steve. You let the only decent girl who liked you get away and now she’s with that byers boy” he recalls his dad saying in a snarky tone.

“I have the perfect idea!” Robin exclaims and everyone waits for her to continue “you should ask y/n to be your date!”

“That’s a terrible idea, Robin. Why would I do that?” It isn’t a terrible idea. His family would be over the mood to see him with a girl like you. You’re kind, funny, smart and gorgeous, but he’d never admit those things to anyone, least of all you. But the thought of spending a whole weekend with you seems like torture.

“Actually, that could work. You need to get over this weird hatred you have for her and this could be some good bonding! Maybe you’ll finally realize how great she is” Nancy states. “I know you all worship the ground she works on, but that isn’t good enough reason to ask her to pretend to be my girlfriend”

“Just think about it, okay?” Nancy says, kindly and he half-heartedly nods. The conversation ceases as you arrive back at the table and everyone stares at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Nothing. We just missed you” You know Robin is acting weird about something, but you let it go. “um, okay. I missed you guys too for the whole five minutes I was gone. I'm gonna go get another drink.” you tell them before making your way to the bar.

“Hey, beautiful. Wanna take a shot with us?” One of the men from the bachelor party asks as you walk by their table. “No thanks. Have a good night, guys” you walk away and hope they leave you alone.

One of the guys gets up to follow you. Steve’s keeping an eye on you and moves to get up when he sees the guy following you. “I’ll be right back, guys”

“C’mon, baby, let me buy you a drink” Steve hears him say to you as you’re standing at the bar. You look uncomfortable and with the bar packed, you barely have a way to escape. “I already said no. Just go back to your friends”

When he moves closer, Steve steps in between the two of you. “She said no, man. Just leave her alone, alright?”

“you her boyfriend?” he slurs and Steve can’t believe the words that come out of his mouth “yeah, i am. so, fuck off, okay?” your eyes widen when Steve says he’s your boyfriend.

“Alright, alright.” the guy puts his hand up in defense “she’s all yours, buddy”

“are you okay? you’re not gonna cry or anything are you?” he asks when he turns around to face you. “No, I'm fine. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you” you smile at him sweetly.

“It’s whatever. Don’t let it get to your head” And just like that the Steve you know is back. “Can you tell everyone that I went outside for some air?” you ask and he nods then you go your separate ways. He watches the door to make sure you get outside alright.

“So, hypothetically” Steve starts once he returns to the table “How would I go about asking her to be my fake girlfriend?”

“Just be honest about it. Oh! and offer to pay for everything!” Robin says. Her advice could not be more vague. “I still think this is a terrible idea, but I literally have no other options, so when this goes to shit just remember it was all of your fault” he tells them before turning around and bearing the crowd to get outside.

When he walks out the door and into the fresh air, he sees you standing up against the brick exterior of the building. “Don’t tell me you came out here to check on me. Thought you said I shouldn’t let anything go to my head?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You are not making this any easier” He puts his hands on his hips and throws his head back, letting out a sigh. “Making what any easier?”

“I have a proposition for you”

“I don’t do prostitution, Steve”

“It’s not- would you just let me talk?” he groans and you make a zipping motion over your lips and throw away the invisible key. “Okay, you owe me a favor after what I did for you, right?- don’t make that face you totally do- anyways, I have a wedding to go next weekend and my family is always harping on me about having a girlfriend and I was thinking-”

“you want me to be your girlfriend?” you ask in a skeptical tone.

“What did I say about letting me talk? and no not girlfriend, fake girlfriend. Just for three days”

“You can barely stand to be around me and you want me to be your pretend girlfriend?”

“Look, I know it’s weird, but we don't have to worry about feelings or some shit like that being a problem because there’s no way that would happen” he explains. “What do I get out of it?”

“A super fancy hotel and all expenses paid. You’ll even get to pretend that you’re dating someone as hot as I am” he smirks and you huff out a humorless laugh. “You’ll pay for everything?” he nods “you’ll drive, too? I hate driving” he nods again “and you’ll be nice to me?”

“Ugh, fine, okay. I will be so nice to you that you’ll puke. Is that a yes?”

“Sure, why not. Can I talk in a British accent and pretend to be part of the royal family? ya know, to fit in with the rich people?”

“Absolutely not”

“Why are you no fun, Stevie?” you whine. “Stevie?” his brows furrow. “yeah, i’m thinking that as your new girlfriend, my nickname for you is Stevie”

“Fake girlfriend” he reminds you “Stevie, you’re so uptight.” you pout at him and he hates himself for his eyes lingering on your lips.

“So, what time should I come over tomorrow?” you ask like you’ve already been invited to his apartment. “What?”

“We need to hang out so you can get used to not acting like I don’t have the plague. Plus, we need to get to know each other” you state. “Fine. Come over tomorrow night and we’ll go over everything”

“Looking forward to it, Stevie”

_

You knock on Steve’s door at 8 p.m. sharp with a bottle of wine in hand because let’s face it, you’re both going to need it. “Hi, Steviekins” you greet as he opens the door. “That’s worse than Stevie”

“You love Stevie and you know it”

“Just come inside” he grumbles. “I ordered a pizza if you want a slice. It’s in the kitchen”

Once the wine is poured and you sit on the couch to eat, you pull out your notebook and two pens from your bag. “Are we writing each other love notes or something?”

“No, doofus. We’re taking notes on each other. Our likes, dislikes, details about our relationship” you tear out a piece of paper and give him a pen. Even your pens and notebook were nauseatingly adorable. “If I knew this was going to be like school I would’ve asked Robin”

“ha!” you laugh loudly “she would punch you if you tried to hold her hand or do anything that was even remotely romantic” you point out “and you’re not going to punch me?”

“I’d like to say no, but I’d hate to be a liar”

You and Steve practically chug your wine and pour a second glass before playing your own version of twenty questions.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask to start. “My favorite color? you really think my family is going to question you on shit like that?” he responds and you glare at him. “Okay, fine. um, blue, I guess”

“That’s so basic”

“Then what’s yours?”

“all of them” you reply. “all of them? really?” he snidely remarks. “yes, moving on”

You learn an abundant amount of things about each other, much against Steve’s will. You know each other's favorite candies, movies, songs, all the way to childhood memories and discussing scars you have and how you got them.

Then you moved on to the details of your relationship. Friends first, fell in love, you know the deal. You’ve “been together” for five months. Long enough that it’s somewhat serious, short enough for it to make sense that you haven’t met his parents yet.

The bottle of wine is almost gone and Steve’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit glossy. If he wasn’t the bane of your existence, you might even think he looks pretty.

“Can I ask you a question? and not one about your favorite food or anything like that” you ask in a soft voice and you seem a little nervous. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Why did you ask me to do this? i’m like the last person you should’ve asked”

“That’s actually why I asked. If I asked a girl that has any romantic interest in me at all, then it might get confusing, ya know? With you, once these three days are over we can go back to normal. There’s no risk of us falling for each other”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I have an observation, by the way. You always speak of love like it’s a terrible thing. Why is that”

“Holy shit that’s a loaded question. Um, well the first time I was in love was in high school and we all know how that turned out. Haven’t been in a serious relationship since so I guess it’s hard for me to believe that it’s as great as everyone says it is” he sighs. He’s never drinking wine again. If it makes him this vulnerable with you he can’t imagine what it would be like if someone else was sitting here.

“Do you still love her? Nancy?” you wonder. “No, I don’t. I have love for her, but just as a friend. What about you?”

“No, I’m not in love with Nancy. She’s pretty and all, but can’t say i’m in love with her”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You’re always raving about some dumb romance novel, yet I’ve never seen you with a boyfriend.” he says and you sigh “There’s not much to tell. Hopeless romantic with standards that are too high”

There’s a hint of sadness in your voice and you clear your throat before speaking up again. “So, I think that’s enough for tonight. I know way more about you than I ever wanted to”

“Right back at ya. I’ll walk you to the door”

“It’s a short distance, I’ll manage”

“Hey, I gotta start working on being chivalrous as your fake boyfriend. Can you stop being stubborn for one second?”

He walks you ten steps to the door and even opens it for you. “Same time tomorrow night? unless you're busy” you say, halfway out the door. “What could we possibly have left to learn about each other?”

“We still have to work on acting like we’re in love. You might have to put your arm around me this weekend. Oh, the horrors!” you gasp dramatically and he suppresses a laugh because he refuses to let you think you have the ability to make him laugh.

“Tomorrow's fine. But if something comes up and you have to skip that would totally be okay”

“You’re such an ass” you whine. “Not as much as you are” he retorts.

You flip him off as you walk away and he does the same.

He can’t wait for next weekend to be over so he can go back to pretending like you barely even exist.

-

part two coming soon to a screen near you ;)

-

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic

[daisynik7]

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 3: First Vacation

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~5.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – phone sex, mutual masturbation, PIV sex (doggy style, cowgirl), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, sweeties, baby), use of the word slut (endearing)

Summary: You and Nanami go on your first trip together to a hot springs resort and things get steamy. 

Author’s Notes: Here’s the last spicy side story for A Bento for Kento! This is a repost; I’ve rewritten it a bit to reflect my current writing style better. I hope you enjoy it! Nanami deserves all good things in the world! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. 

Previous Chapter | Sweet Like Honey Masterlist

Four months into your relationship, you and Nanami plan your first trip together. The two of you sit on the couch in your living room, digesting the dinner you just ate. There’s a nearby mountain town called Hakone, known for being a hot springs resort with views of Mt. Fuji. Apparently, Nanami has been there before and recommends it. Having never been to a hot spring yourself, the idea of snuggling up next to your boyfriend in a steamy stone bath excites you. That is, until he breaks the news to you. “Hot springs are separate for men and women, sweetheart. We won’t be in the hot springs together.”

You look at him, mouth agape. “Huh, what’s the point then?!”

He chuckles, lifting the back of your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “To relax. You really can’t go a few hours without being beside me?” 

You raise a brow at him. “Oh please. Says the man who made me late to work this entire week because you kept wanting to cuddle.”

Smiling, he responds, “I can’t help it. It’s getting cold and you’re too cute. Anyways, I’m planning to book a room with a personal hot tub on the balcony, so we can still relax together at night.” 

That does sound nice. And it’s not like you are actually upset about the separate hot springs. It’s probably a better idea not to be near each other when naked in public. 

Since the day you two confessed your love for one another, the sex has ramped up quite a bit. And by quite a bit, you mean a lot. With your dear brother Ren officially living in the dorms at Jujutsu High, you and Nanami are together nearly every day, either at your place or his. And with your love for each other growing by the second, it’s no surprise that sex has become a regular part of your lives. You can’t keep your hands off each other. Sometimes, the two of you don’t have the patience to move to the bedroom, so Kento made sure to hide lube in the drawers of each room in both your homes, even in the most unsuspecting of places, like the kitchen and laundry room, which has definitely come in handy already. In the beginning of your relationship, there was still that trepidation of figuring out what each other was comfortable with. Both of you were extremely cautious of not crossing any lines, always asking, “Is this okay?” or “Do you like this?”. After a certain point, you became more comfortable with each other. You feel safe when you’re together. Now, the sex is more passionate than it’s ever been. Knowing he loves you just as much as you love him makes all the difference. This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. There’s no holding back. 

“Hot tub on a balcony? Sounds very romantic.” You scooch closer to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Let’s do it.”

“Great. I’ll ask Gojo to help me book it. He’s the one who got us in last time.” He leans forward to nuzzle his nose to yours, grinning. “I can’t wait. Our first vacation together.”

“I’m getting excited just thinking about it.” You kiss him on the lips as he cradles you in his arms. 

“What are you thinking about? Are you being naughty again?”

“Of course not! How dare you. You know I’m a good girl,” you say with a coy smile, walking your fingers up his chest to loosen his tie.

He hums. “You are a good girl. You’re my good girl.” His lips brush lightly along your neck. In just a few short minutes, clothes are shed and the drawer next to the couch is open. 

~~~

The week of their vacation, Nanami is sent on a mission to Osaka with Gojo. Not only does he have to spend four days in a hotel room with his insufferable friend, but this will be the longest he’s been apart from his girlfriend since they started dating. 

On the last night, Nanami groans at his phone, staring at a picture of the yakisoba she made for dinner tonight as he eats a bowl of spicy instant ramen from a convenience store. “Remind me why we don’t have any stipend for food?” Nanami asks Gojo, who is happily slurping away at his noodles, cross-legged on the bed.

“Geez, Nanamin. Sorry our agency can’t afford five-star meals every night. Since when have you been such a snob?!”

“I’d rather be at home, eating my girlfriend’s yakisoba than eating instant ramen with you.”

“I’m so glad you said yakisoba and not something else,” Gojo jokes, with an eyebrow raised.

They finish the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence. When he’s done, Gojo stands up to stretch his long limbs. “I’m going for a walk. Be back in thirty minutes.” 

“Where are you going?”

“Just around. I’m giving you some alone time so you can talk to your girlfriend. Take the hint, buddy.”

Surprised, Nanami murmurs, “You don’t have to leave. It’s fine.”

“Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just tell her I say ‘hi’. And remember, thirty minutes. I better not walk in here with your pants down,” he teases, smirking as he opens the door.

“Oh, you are awful,” Nanami mutters before he’s left all alone. Finally. 

Immediately, he dials her number and after two rings, she picks up. “Hi baby!”

He loves hearing her voice. It instantly puts him in a good mood. “Hi honey. How are you?”

“Honey? Are you alone right now?”

“Yes. Gojo went out for a walk.”

They chat for several minutes about each other’s week. Nanami talks about the multiple curses they’ve exorcised and how Gojo has them eating convenience store food every night. She complains about work and her friend’s boyfriend drama, which he shamelessly indulges in. 

“I miss you so much,” Nanami says. He’s sitting up on his bed now, loosening the tie around his collar. 

“I miss you too, Kento.”

“I can’t wait for our vacation tomorrow.”

“Me too.”

There’s a brief silence over the phone, a familiar tension growing between the static noise. She breaks the silence first. “What do you want to do during our trip?”

“Well, we’re going to do the hot springs, maybe a massage –”

“No, Kento. I mean, what do you want to do to me?” He hears shifting on her end. He wonders what room she’s in and what she’s wearing.

He exhales into the phone, reaching for his belt, unbuckling it quietly. “What do you want, sweetheart? I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“Whatever I want?” she challenges. 

“Yes, anything.”

“Can you fuck me like the little slut that I am?”

“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” he mutters, pushing past the waistband of his pants to release his erect cock. He starts jerking off hastily, picturing her sprawled out on the bed for him, legs spread wide and ready to be railed. “You’re such a slut for me, huh? Always so needy for this cock. Where are you right now?” He rasps filthy words into the phone, all discretion tossed out the window.

“I’m on the couch in the living room, touching myself.” 

“Already? Can’t even make it to the bedroom, huh? You really are a slut. Can’t wait to eat that pussy out tomorrow. Can’t wait to devour you. You always taste divine on my tongue.” 

“God, Kento. Wish you were here. Wish you could fuck me on the couch like you did last week.” 

“Have you been touching yourself while I’ve been away? Have you been naughty?” He bites his lip thinking about her rubbing that clit with those cute little fingers, sliding them up and down her wet cunt. 

“Yes, I’ve been very naughty,” she huffs, voice trembling with arousal. “How will you punish me?” 

“Going to give you a spanking,” he growls, fisting his cock faster, precum leaking from the tip. “Going to fuck you until you can’t come anymore. Going to milk you dry.”

“Is that a promise?” If he listens carefully enough, he can hear the lewd squelches while she pleasures herself, spurring him on.

“You’re such a bad girl, always trying to provoke me. Tell me exactly what you’re doing.”

“Rubbing my clit,” she stammers. “Spreading my cum all over it so it’s nice and wet for you. God, I miss you so much, baby.”

“I know, honey. I miss you too. I miss you too,” he repeats, getting closer and closer to the edge. “Can you make yourself come? For me? Fuck yourself, pretend it’s me doing it. I want to hear it.”

He relishes in her faint whimpers as she masturbates on the phone with him, timing his strokes to match her moans. “There you go, sweetheart. Just like that. You’re doing so good for me,” he praises. He’s close and by the sounds of it, so is she. “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he says in a low voice.

“Your big cock filling me up.”

“What position?”

“Cowgirl. I’m bouncing on it until you come inside, like how we did it on the couch. It was dripping down my thighs, remember?” Her voice is hoarse with lust, gradually unraveling on the other end of the line. 

“How could I forget?” he smiles to himself, vividly recalling the erotic memory. “And what did I do after?”

She lets out a loud moan before answering, “You put it back in me and fucked me again.”

“That’s right, baby. I know how much you like that.” He strokes his dick in a frenzy, ears hot and eyes shut tight as he approaches his climax.  

“Come with me, Kento. Come with me.” 

At her command, his abs clench as he releases all over himself, painting the bottom of his button up shirt with his seed. He really should have taken this off beforehand, but as usual, they get too caught up in the moment to think logically. 

“Did you come?” Her voice is quiet, her breathing shallow just like it gets whenever she orgasms.  

“Yes, I did. All over my shirt,” he admits, laughing softly.

“Oh no! Baby!”

“It’s okay. I have another one. How about you? Did you come?”

“Yes, I did,” she replies. He smirks, picturing her laid out on the couch, panties around her ankles, that blissful gaze in her eyes. That’s my girl, he muses. 

“You should clean yourself up before Gojo gets back,” she suggests.

Gojo. Shit.

Nanami turns his wrist to read his watch; it’s been at least forty-five minutes since his friend left for his thirty-minute walk. In a panic, he checks his messages and finds three from Gojo that he somehow missed:

NANAMINNNNN coming back from my walk now

never mind, extending my walk another 30

you dirty bastard

~~~

The next day, you and Nanami reunite for your trip. It’s a two-hour train ride to Hakone. You rest your head on Nanami’s shoulder, hands laced together, basking in each other’s existence. A few days away makes you realize how happy you are being with him. As if you had any doubts. 

When the train approaches the station, Nanami lightly taps on your thigh to get your attention. He points out the window. “Look, sweetie.” It’s a gorgeous view of Mt. Fuji in the distance. The hotel you’re staying at is only a ten-minute walk from the station, meaning this is the scenery you’ll have all weekend. You can’t imagine anything more romantic and peaceful than this. 

The hotel is as quaint as you pictured it. You check into the room and settle in before getting ready for the hot springs. Two hours away from each other is a cinch, especially in paradise. You both enjoy your separate onsen experiences, rejuvenated and relaxed for the night to come. 

After a delightful dinner at the hotel restaurant, it’s time to retreat into your room. On the elevator ride up, Nanami pushes you up against the wall and kisses you, unable to contain himself any longer. You fumble on the way to the room, exchanging delicate kisses until you’re inside. He removes his coat, then yours, before wrapping his arms around you in a big bear hug. “I’ve been waiting all week for this,” he says softly. 

You both change into proper hot tub attire: Nanami in swim trunks, you in a two-piece bathing suit. He leads you to the balcony, holding your hand to help you into the spa. The sexual tension is palpable. As you sit beside each other in the water, your muscles relax in the heat. You let your head fall back on the edge of the tub as you sigh, feeling at ease, staying like this for a few minutes. Even with your eyes closed, you can sense Nanami’s gaze on you. Cracking one eye open, you smirk. “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

His hand slides up your thigh. “I can’t help it when you look like this.”

You face him, smiling. “And what do I look like?”

“Happy. Tranquil.” He pauses, leaning in closer to whisper, “You’re beautiful.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach, a sensation you’ll never get tired of. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Your lips brush together seamlessly, his breath warm on your mouth. With your hands on his chest, you feel the steady thump of his heartbeat pick up in pace as you continue to kiss passionately. Your skin prickles with goosebumps despite the surrounding heat. Something about the way Nanami kisses you always makes you tingly.

Straddling his lap now, you kiss his neck while you roll your hips on him, using his shoulders to hold on to. He lets out a guttural moan, making you ride him slower, touching every inch of him as you possible can until he’s undeniably hard beneath you. You want him. You need him.  

Water splashes over the edge of the tub, the waves rippling with each movement. The steam from the hot water is dewy on your skin. He caresses your head, fingers gripped to the back of your head, gently pulling you off so he can meet your lips with his before trailing along your neck, sucking on your skin, claiming you as his. His other hand cups your ass, moving with the rhythm in which you ride him. 

“You’re so good to me, Kento. Always so good to me,” you whimper.

He whispers in your ear, “I want you. I want you around my cock.” His squeezes your ass tighter, his self-control wavering. “Let’s go.”

You hop off and get out first. The contrast of the cold night air on your sweltering skin makes you shiver. When you watch him emerge out of the water with a very distinct bulge in his swimming trunks, you shudder even more. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” he teases, grabbing your wrist and leading you back inside. His grip is strong, his pace quick. Seeing him unravel like this is arousing. Knowing how much he desires you in this moment makes you quiver for him.

He takes you into the bathroom, where he starts the shower, knob turned all the way to hot. He releases his hold on you to remove his swimming trunks, his hard dick flopping against his abdomen. The sight resonates straight to your arousal. In complete surrender, you bend over the sink counter begging, “Kento, please. I can’t wait anymore. I need you right now.”

He leans over you, his lips tickling your ear as he chuckles. “Be a good girl and get in the shower. Be patient, sweetheart.” His erection rubs against you, his lips grazing your nape seductively. He roams your back to remove your top, then down your ass, where he slides your bikini bottoms off at an agonizing speed. 

Pouting, you do as he says, slapping your ass as you step over the bathtub. He follows you in, pawing at your waist to pull you close. With a bar of soap, you stand underneath the hot shower, scrubbing the chlorine off your skin as Nanami watches you from behind. Soap suds travel from your neck down to your breasts. From the your peripheral, you see him lick his lips, salivating. When you’re ready to rinse off, you turn to face him, reaching between your legs, tapping your clit. 

“Can’t wait to taste you,” he says in a low voice, the look in his eyes carnal with desire. God, you want him. You want him so bad it hurts, pussy aching to be filled.

Letting the water rinse your body, you offer him the bar of soap. He shakes his head. “You do it.” This is the other side of him. Nanami is usually sweet and gentle with you. Never does he demand you to do anything or boss you around. But when he’s like this, you can’t help but heed his every command. Only you get to see him like this. You scrub the soap on his skin, sliding your hands all over his body. You pull him closer to you, letting the water wash away the bubbles. When you reach down to his still erect cock, he snatches your hand away and growls, “Not yet. I want to fuck you on the bed.” 

Once rinsed off, he gives you a small kiss on the forehead before stepping out, leaving you alone in the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he gives you one last smirk before exiting the bathroom. What is he up to? 

A small groan escapes your mouth, your patience wearing thin. This is the longest foreplay you two have managed to last through. How much longer is he going to keep you waiting? How has he managed to stay this hard for this long without giving in? The anticipation puts you on edge. 

When you’re done, you wrap a robe loosely around yourself, returning to the bedroom to see Nanami sitting up on the bed, naked on top of the covers, watching you. He points to a small, black gift bag propped up at the foot of the bed. “Open it.”

Inside is a black slip dress and a matching lace thong. You swallow hard as you glide the thin material between your fingers, nervous and aroused at what’s about to come. “Put it on. Model it for me.” He leans back on the headboard, palms behind his head, cock stiff against his stomach. There’s a smug expression on his face; you can tell he’s enjoying this. 

You shrug the robe off and wear the dress first. Your nipples poke through the fabric. Nanami bites his lower lip and leans forward to get a better look. “Now put the thong on. Slowly.”

At his direction, you slip on the lingerie slowly. When it’s past your knees, he says, “Turn around and let me see.” With your back towards him, you stick your ass out and lift the hem of the dress to slide the thong between your cheeks. 

You hear him moan quietly. “Perfect. You’re perfect. Come here, sweetheart.”

~~~

She crawls next to him, where they begin kissing, all sloppy and wet. Her hand reaches down to stroke his shaft. He cradles her bottom, fingers feeling for the lacey fabric buried between her ass cheeks.  

“Get on your back,” he orders, hovering above her, marveling at how insanely gorgeous she is. The satin dress accentuates every bodacious curve of her body. He makes a mental note to buy more of these for her in the future.

He slides his hand beneath the dress to rub his fingers on the wet spot of her lacey lingerie. “So wet for me already,” he purrs, slipping past the fabric. “Always so wet for me.”

“Please,” she pleads. He loves it when she begs. Absolutely loves it. It awakens something in him. The usually calm Kento Nanami becomes unhinged whenever he touches her. But when she begs for it, he wants nothing more than to make her feel amazing, to be the reason she squirms in pleasure beneath him.

He slides his middle finger along her folds, gathering as much slick as he can before he starts caressing her puffy clit. She whines under his touch, the sensation too much. She’s been waiting for this all night. Been begging for it. This is her reward for her patience. She grabs the nearest pillow to cover her mouth, but as soon as she does, Nanami pulls it off and tosses it behind him. 

“No,” he demands. “I want everyone to hear how good you’re getting it right now.”

He shimmies down the bed, spreading her thighs apart. With his head between her legs, he leans forward, teasing her clit with a flick of his tongue, holding her panties to the side. She grabs hold of his hair as he presses soft kisses to her clit. Suddenly, he flattens his tongue on her bud and moves it side to side, surrounding every centimeter of that pretty clit with his mouth. Lewd sounds fill the room, from her loud, shameless moaning to the wet noises he makes as he eats her out. He adjusts his position to stroke himself as he continues to devour her.

She’s like honey on his tongue, luscious and decadent. He cherishes every time he gets to do this to her. Usually, she is too shy to let him eat her out. She deprives him of this treat. He’s starved for it. With her like this, spread out like a fucking feast in front of him, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take full advantage of this moment. He latches his lips around her, sucking on it as he lets go of his cock to slide his middle and ring finger into her pussy. He watches her chest fall and rise with shallow breaths with his fingers pumping in and out of her, thumb rubbing circles around her clit. She cries out his name. “Kento!”

“Fuck. You have no idea how good you look right now, swallowing up my fingers like this.” He bucks his hips against the bed, desperate for any type of friction. All he hears from her is a litany of swears and his name. Her moans eventually turn into whimpers. He stops massaging her clit and eats her out again, this time sloppier and more erratic as he continues to work his fingers inside her. The sheets are damp with his saliva and her cum. He’s not sure how many times she orgasms; based on the evidence before him, he guesses it’s at least twice. She’s too busy taking it like a slut to even verbalize when she’s coming. 

When he’s close to his limit, he places one last tender kiss on her clit before releasing her lacey thong; he’s been holding them to the side this entire time. His fingers slip out of her, shiny with her orgasm. The temptation to suck her sweet nectar from his fingers is too good to resist. As he kneels next to her, he leans down to put his face close to hers. Her eyes widen with anticipation, waiting for his next move. With a dark look in his eyes, he licks his glossy fingers, dragging his tongue up and down, savoring it like it’s the most decadent treat. She whines, staring at him, grinding her hips up, desperate to be fucked. He never gets tired of seeing her like this.  

Fully aware of how her slick glistens on his lips and chin, he murmurs, “Taste yourself. I want you know how good you are.”

There’s a dazed expression in her eyes as she obeys, sitting up to kiss him sloppily, tongue lapping into his open mouth then down to his chin. It drives him crazy. Before he comes right then and there, he shoves his hand between her legs and tugs her panties off, admiring how soaked they are, all for him. Because of him. 

Under the pillow is the bottle of lube he hid right after he got out of the shower. He pops off the cap and pours a liberal amount into his palms, coating his shaft. He strokes his cock vigorously, asking, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Kento. Please. Please. I need you inside me.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He kneels in front of her, aligning the tip of his dick with her slit, entering her slowly, careful not to be too forceful. She’s always so tight, even when she’s dripping wet for him. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, leaning over her to kiss her forehead. 

Halfway in, her body adjusts to his size, allowing him to thrust into her in fluid motions. She wraps her legs around him, babbling. “Kento, fuck. Fuck.”

“So wet for me. You’re perfect around my cock.” Once he’s fully inside her, he kisses her with open lips, tongue licking up her saliva as she moans into his mouth. He pins her wrists above her head, thrusting his hips against her. They make love like this for a while, Nanami relishing the way her body melts around him. He knows what she wants, but he takes his time teasing her like this until she groans out, “Fuck me harder. Please.”

As if on cue, he pulls out of her and taps his fingers at her hips. At his command, she flips over onto her stomach and gets on all fours, pushing her ass out. The hem of her satin dress rides up over the curve of her hips. The sight in front of him is immaculate. He wants this ingrained in his memory forever. “Think you can take it, sweetheart? I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“Yes, baby. Fuck me hard. Please. I can take it.”

“Good girl,” he coos, placing a soft kiss on her back. Whatever she wants, he’ll give it to her, especially when she begs like this. He puts both of his hands on each of her ass cheeks and spreads them apart, watching his glistening cock slowly slide into her pussy. 

“God, I wish you could see what I see right now. It’s exquisite. You look fucking incredible like this. My sweet girl.” Once he’s all the way in, he grabs hold of her hips and fucks her. Hard. Exactly how she likes it. 

“Fuck, feels so fucking good!” she cries out. Her knuckles are tight as she clenches the sheets. He spanks her as he fucks her, causing her to groan into the pillow with her back arched. The sound of his pelvis slapping against her ass with each rapid thrust is filthy. 

“I needed this, baby. It’s been such a long week,” he grunts. “God, you take it so well. Such a slut for me, huh? Say it.”

“I’m a slut for you, Kento. Feels amazing when you fuck me like this.” 

Grip still firm on her hips, he continues to drive his cock into her, reveling in the way she swallows him up. She turns her head to the side, that dazed look on her face. Her lips are parted as she continues to moan incoherently, drool leaking down the sides of her wet mouth. When she makes eye contact with him, her lips curl into a small smile. “Right there, Kento. Make me come.”

Growling, he hits her sweet spot until she comes all over his cock. She tightens around him. his dick creamy with more of her cum with each thrust. It’s obscene; he can’t hold it in anymore. 

“Ride me,” he demands, pulling out abruptly. He rolls onto his back, watching her climb on top of him. She guides his dick inside her, exhaling deeply as she sinks lower onto his shaft. It goes in easily, her pussy sleek from her multiple orgasms, his own precum, and the lube from earlier. When he bottoms out, she leans over him, kissing him passionately as she thrusts her ass back and forth onto his cock. 

“Just like that. Fuck,” he moans. This is his absolute favorite position. He loves it when she rides him like this. Always so eager and greedy for his cum whenever she’s on top. It makes him feel like a fucking god. He cranes his neck to the side, tugging on the hem of her dress to watch her bounce on his lap. “I fucking love this. You know how much I love this, you fucking nasty slut.” 

“I’m such a nasty slut for you, baby. Only for you. Fuck,” she moans into his ear, riding him faster. 

He’s close. How he’s managed to last this long without coming, he’ll never know. Maybe his stamina has improved after all the sex they’ve been having recently. Or maybe it’s the thought of coming in her like this that kept him under control. Whatever it is, he decides he’s been patient long enough. 

“Let me take over,” he whispers to her.

Her body relaxes. Now, he’s in control. He plants his feet onto the bed and thrusts into her at a rapid pace, holding onto her waist to move her in perfect rhythm with his hips. 

“Come inside me, Kento. Fill me up,” she mewls into his ear.

At her words, he releases inside her, shutting his eyes tight as he rides out the rest of his orgasm. When he’s finished, he pulls out and she collapses beside him. The dress is defiled with the aftermath of their lovemaking, just as he fantasized about. 

~~~

You put your arm over his chest and lay your head against his shoulder. “Wow,” is all you can muster, voice shaky. Nanami just rocked your fucking world, and you can’t find better words to describe it. 

He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “Yeah. Wow.” He takes your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist. “I’m sorry for calling you a slut.”

You giggle. He always does this. “You don’t have to keep apologizing for that! You know I like it.”

“I usually don’t use degrading language like that. I just want to make sure it’s still okay with you.” You can’t contain your smile. He’s too cute for his own good. 

“By the way, how long have you been planning this?” you ask.

He finally opens his eyes and faces you. “All week. Saw the dress on display at a mall in Osaka. I knew it would look magnificent on you. It’s even better than what I imagined.”

“You sneaky devil!”

“I’m only this way because of you. You really unleash the devil in me.” He grins, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I guess I’m the lucky angel then, huh?”

“You are,” he says, peppering kisses on your face. “My sweet angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After a few more minutes of post-coital cuddling, the two of you wash up again and get ready for a well-deserved sleep. You snuggle each other in pure bliss, looking forward to more vacations with the man you love. 

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