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winged-self-indulgence · 5 months

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Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

#reference list is completed!#yandere #sunny day jack #my dear hatchet man #mdhm #stnaf #ddlc #john doe #boyfriend to death #tpof #degrees of lewdity #your boyfriend #14dwy #br<3ken colors #camp willowpeak #br0ken colors #obey me #favour vn #binary star hero

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meownotgood · 2 months

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under the influence / hayakawa aki

When Aki gets dragged to the most popular strip club in Tokyo in hopes it'll help him "de-stress", against all odds, you help him do just that. In return, he finally cures your itch for something more.

CHAPTER TWO — PINK LEMONADE MIMOSA

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 75.3k

tags (for this chapter): 18+, aki is a virgin, reader is a stripper, strangers to lovers, literally so much smut, semi-public sex, body worship, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms (from both parties), orgasm control, fingering, creampie, virginity loss / virgin kink, cumplay, overstimulation, riding, doggy style, missionary, reader is shorter than aki, reader has nipple piercings, reader has a bit of experience, lots of praise + teasing + dirty talk (giving and receiving), switchy aki, reader is touch-starved and has had shitty relationships in the past, the smallest hint of coercion (reader convinces aki to do it without a condom, he's into it tho), the smallest hint of bloodplay (reader bites aki's lip so hard it bleeds, he's also very into it)

masterlist.

read on ao3

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

You're finally starting to realize just how far you've come since this night first began.

Aki Hayakawa has grown from a stranger who's name you fortunately happened to catch on his ID, to a man you've grown closer to than you ever could've expected. In between it all, your relationship has morphed into something you can't even begin to put your finger on. It's something more — much more — than what you were to each other at the start, that's all you know.

In the short time you've spent together, after everything you've both been through and after everywhere this has gone, what your heart holds for him is nothing you've ever felt before, not for anyone. You aren't used to a softness this genuine. You know he isn't, either. This could blossom into more, for the both of you, if you're foolish enough to let it.

Maybe that's exactly what you're hoping for.

Truthfully, this scares you, almost. There's an ache in his shape gnawing at your chest and begging for more, for a closeness and a sweetness you didn't know you could crave. For the deliberate tenderness he's already given you a taste of, and the spark in your system you've felt since minute one; the kind you only get when you know you're alive.

And really, as crazy and unpredictable as this night has been, it's not like you didn't see this coming. You did, and you didn't.

Of course you knew most of what you'd be getting into, no matter how innocent you tried to play. You can't drag a handsome devil hunter to the club's private bedrooms and still expect nothing to happen. You knew he'd be inexperienced, and when it comes to this, you figured he'd be timid to the point where you'd have to show him the ropes. You knew that, but if it meant getting closer to him, you were fine with it. More than fine with it. The only thing you didn't know was the true extent of his naivete.

You're not upset, not disappointed. Not mad or disgusted. Not any of the things he might've assumed you would be if he'd worked up the guts to tell you himself. After all, it's just sex.

No, if anything, you're amused. You're excited. You might be wrong. Maybe you're jumping the gun. Either way, you can't get your heart to stop pounding. Fluttery and eager and incessant in your ears, your chest feels hot and your head is light. When you place your palm onto his cheek, he's burning up, as warm to the touch as you are. The intensity you've felt in the minutes past comes rushing back to you in waves.

He must have the wrong impression of you. He's wrong, if he really thinks whatever amount of inexperience he has would make you care about him any less.

Perhaps Aki is far from what you first expected out of him, too. If anything, you could have never predicted this night to turn out this way with him, not one bit. The sex, maybe you saw that coming. But the feelings you have towards Aki as you've come to know him? Never.

He needs this. For once, you want him to let go, to forget. You're going to give him a gentle taste of love, of a world more divine. Now that you think about it, you've needed this too.

You're greedy for neglecting everything else to be with him, common sense and the rest of your job. You shouldn't, not when you know once you have him, you aren't going to be able to let him go. But who is going to blame you?

This is the most entertained, the most relaxed and comfortable you've ever been in the entirety of your time working here. Aki is a tenderness worth holding close, he isn't calm or collected at all, he isn't what he shows on the surface. He's soft and he's scared, he might seem composed but he's no more experienced than any of the strip club's regulars, he's sweet and kind and perfect and he's so —

"You're so dramatic."

"What?"

A pin drops; Aki's expression turns to confusion, his brows knit up with a slight yet unmistakable tinge of annoyance. You're starting to laugh and he stares up at you expectantly, wide-eyed.

The grin you give him nearly takes his breath away. Playful and purely ecstatic, tugging at the strings of his heart without even trying. You aren't taking him seriously, but that's alright. That's a relief.

"Stop," You half-heartedly push at his chest, "You don't have to be so embarrassed. It's not like I'm judging or anything. I wouldn't do that."

His voice has already regained its usual steeliness. It feels good to hear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've never had sex before?"

"I…"

Ah, you've got him. And you aren't wasting any time, you're ripping the bandaid off right away; whether it was the brazenness of your words, or whether it was because he didn't expect you'd find him out so soon, your question takes him off guard. His shoulders stiffen up, a telling heat blossoms from under his cheeks. Everything caught in his throat, thick and blistering, he can't speak. He glances up towards you, and even without a proper answer, the look on his face tells you all you need to know.

So, you were right.

"Aki, what's wrong?"

He's really starting to lose his composure. Aki's face is red from his cheeks to his ears and even though he can't see it, he can feel the way the flush travels even further, across his chest and beneath his collar. He tries to sit up but it's no use; he's blocked by your firm palm on his chest and your weight in his lap.

Aki groans, flopping back, covering his face with both hands. "This is stupid."

You carefully grab his wrists and guide his hands away, and he keeps them limp, moving them without a fight.

"You're the only one who's stupid." You counter.

Aki visibly pouts. "Let me up."

You won't. You think you'll do the exact opposite, actually. Aki opens his mouth — to spout another protest is your best guess — but you shut him up with your lips on his, before either of you can find out.

Immediately, he chokes out a surprised sort of noise, vibrations muffled by your mouth, but then he's relaxing, tilting his head to the tune of your own. Thumb and forefinger grasping his chin, you kiss him softly, intensely. Aki lets himself melt into it, his eyes closing, fingertips grazing your cheek as he kisses back. The world stops turning for a few fleeting seconds. When you pull away, he's calm, his eyes are deep, hazed over. He scans your face, he waits for you to say something.

"You're way too serious."

Aki blinks, eyelids heavy. He wishes you'd quit the embarrassing talk, and simply kiss him again.

Your tone is quieter this time when you tell him, "None of that is a big deal to me, you know? Quit acting like it is."

Your gaze is difficult to keep meeting. Aki looks past where you sit on top of him. He glances down towards the end of the bed, where the sheets have grown untucked and messy from what he can only assume is yours and his fault. A couple seconds go by, and then a few seconds more. Your finger taps his cheek. He doesn't reply.

You scoff, but it's unconvincing. This time, your fingers drift down, skating either side of his neck. The rosy-purple marks flushing the surface of his skin look prettiest when they're underneath your fingertips.

"What do you want me to do?" Earnest and tender, your words recapture his attention. "I promised you I'd give you whatever you wanted, right? So tell me the truth."

Aki glances towards your gaze, finally. He answers without skipping a beat, "Whatever you want to do."

"Dumbass, I'm asking you." When your fingers start to trace underneath his collar you resist the urge to grab a fistful and shake him by it. To your disappointment, he looks away again, seemingly unfazed, but you don't miss how the bridge of his nose subtly crinkles.

You sigh. "I just want you to be honest with me. Can't you do that?"

"I don't… I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with doing."

"Stop it. I want this, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't. And I want to do whatever's gonna make you happy. Whatever will make you forget about all those stupid little stresses you've got swirling around in your head."

Aki's lips purse into a thin, taut line.

His weight shifts as you fling your arms around him, elbows resting on his shoulders. You're continuing, "I want you to enjoy yourself. You deserve to enjoy yourself. Do you not think so?"

Now, it's Aki's turn to sigh. He looks back towards you, expression softer than before. He watches with his breath caught in his lungs as you lean in, fingers toying with his hair but refusing to give him the satisfaction of running through.

You're quiet. So quiet, so alluring it makes his head spin; "Tell me what you want Aki, tell me, and I'll give it to you. Anything at all."

Anything.

Oh, there's so much he wants, he's longed for more from you in this past hour than he's ever wanted for himself in his whole pathetic life. He hates this feeling and loves it at the same time: adores the addicting river of desire flowing through his veins, despises how it itches and claws at his chest until it aches. A desperate sense of need chokes up his throat, goading him to beg for things he never thought he'd be begging for. He hates that he wants to be cherished, hates how badly he needs to feel like he's sitting right in your soft spot.

The feeling of want is a lot to contend with for someone who's barely ever wanted anything. When he was younger, he wanted his brother to get better, wanted his family to be happy. When he got older, he believed he didn't deserve to want for them to come back.

"I- I think I…"

This isn't as simple as you, or even as he first made it out to be. It could have been, but he's gone and made feelings for himself he can't chase away. Because as much as he's tried to be strong and composed and resistant, ultimately, he's weak. Weak and lonely, relying on you to fill in the blanks. Weak enough to fall for you when he knows he shouldn't, for your kind touches and even kinder words. Enough to crave more, more than he believes he deserves.

Maybe that's alright. He can quell his shaking heart, he can pretend things are simple. Just for tonight, he supposes.

You told him you wished for him not to think about work, or devils, or hardships. Or anything outside of this room and what's happening right now. He's always been the type to look towards the past and the future, never focus on the present. But for tonight, he thinks he should. He'll have regrets if he doesn't. And he's been through enough to know regrets are always worse than whatever comes before them.

He promised himself he wouldn't hesitate. A half-hearted promise, really. It might be time to make good on that.

Breath sharply quickening, Aki finally concedes, "I want to… Think I want to keep going. Like you said."

"Yeah? You want more?"

Your voice tickles the shell of his ear, you're right, but it's more than humiliating to have his own words deciphered and tossed back in his face. His eyelids are getting heavy. His chest tingles like fireworks about to explode, and his limbs go limp.

"Yeah. I do."

"We can take it slow. Take our time." Right against his ear, you whisper such sweet words, your fingers curl in the roots of his hair and the sensation is oh-so pleasant, "I want to make this about you. We can do whatever you're comfortable with, and stop when you've had enough. How does that sound?"

"Good. That sounds good." Aki swallows, nodding.

The mattress dips slightly as you shift, pushing back up again, palms flat on his chest to steady yourself. "Then I promise I'll take care of you. Okay?"

When you look at his face, Aki's got his lips pursed up into something of a pout, he's clearly unsure or nervous or embarrassed, maybe a combination of the three. But regardless, he doesn't falter, he nods again.

"Okay."

"Don't look so nervous." You're sliding down slowly to give yourself more room, moving to straddle his thighs, "All you need to worry about is making sure you enjoy yourself. And if there's anything you're scared of, just tell me. I'll show you what to do."

Aki exhales a steady puff of air. "Got it."

Reaching up, you start by unbuttoning his shirt. You stretch forwards to pop the top-most button, then the second one down, then the one after that. Aki's thighs squirm slightly as your weight repositions on top of them. His gaze darts from your face to your hands, his vision going blurry at the edges, and he breathes in deep to keep it refocused.

Already, you're tugging his shirt from his shoulders and he's following along before he has a chance to think about it, pulling his arms from each sleeve. He sits up, allowing you to yank the dress shirt free from his back. You gently toss it aside on the bed once you're finished.

You waste no time pressing your palms flat to his bare stomach. He flinches instinctually from the contact, but soon, he's melting into it. Your hands are surprisingly warm, even warmer as you start to glide them up, bringing them to his chest, causing him to relax and sink further into the mattress. Your thumbs brush over the faint muscles in his abdomen. You feel out the ridges of his ribs when he breathes in, the expanse of his chest, needy fingertips dip into the curve of his collarbones — Your touch spreads warmth and flickering sparks in its wake.

Aki swallows the thick lump forming in his throat. His heartbeat rings in his ears like a church bell; you trace your fingers along a deep scar traveling the length of his shoulder. Your fingernails tickle the surface, and he's expelling a nice, deep sigh, closing his eyes as he gives himself up to you.

That's it. You're whispering, voice quiet, only a figment, See? No reason to be anxious. I've got you.

It's your job to make people relax, isn't it? Yet Aki still finds himself wondering how you got to be so damn good at it.

You trace his arms in the same way you did once before, palms traveling up each one. You squeeze his shoulders, massage them a little until he's sighing, going down further to hold his waist, thumbs rubbing the faintest circles into his skin. His figure is as handsome as you were expecting: thin and stronger than he looks, muscle in his back and his shoulders, pale skin scattered with long, faded scars. Aki looks down — You're shifting back, leaning in. He sucks in a breath of anticipation, he sees you press your lips to his stomach, and feels you kiss right above his waist line.

Again, you kiss closer to his side, you go upwards to place one over where his sternum would be, and then a kiss on his shoulder, one onto his throat — he's shivering, his eyes are closing. You press one on the shell of his ear, one over a mismatched scar on his chest. Each touch is rippling water: trembling, echoing.

He can hardly handle this; you're leaving kisses over all the places no-one has ever touched before, no-one but you. No-one but blood and bruises and devils. There's never been room for anything this soft.

He feels like he's dying. Dying and coming back to life. Or perhaps both, simultaneously. It would be nice if he could feel exactly like this when he dies.

You're so pretty, Aki.

One hand rising to cup his cheek and tilt his head upward, the other dips lower, fingertips snaking underneath his slacks to barely brush the waistband of his briefs. Aki almost doesn't hear you. His eyes go misty, and he thinks for a second he just might cry.

You really are so soft, treating him softer, safer than anything he's ever known. He was supposed to be keeping things simple, but when it's this easy for you to tug at him, he finds it impossible to keep his brain from scrambling into a complicated, wound-up knot.

You're still going, dragging your hands down his sides. His skin tingles, your fingertips caress every one or his scars, each of his little insecurities. How long has he waited, needed to feel this, without even knowing? How long has his heart eaten away at itself, desperate for something just like this?

"You okay?"

Your hands have frozen, he realizes. The familiar sound of your voice, louder than before, brings him back to reality.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

You part his bangs, pushing them away from his eyes and tucking them behind his ears. You prop yourself up and lean your elbows onto his chest until they're close to digging in.

"You know," You're saying, the faintest tinge of a smile tugging at your cheeks, "I feel special, getting to see you like this."

Aki blinks, doesn't answer.

"I wanna make you happy. You're important to me. I want to make you feel special too, Aki." Fingertips drumming a rhythm on his shoulder, your lips ghost the space between the corner of his jaw and his ear, "You'll let me, won't you?"

You already have.

With a dull sort of laugh, you double over, you wrap your arms around him; you understand you're getting cheesy, a bit too sentimental for your own liking. Your voice comes out as a deep mutter, breathed right against his skin, "I bet you've never felt like that before, huh? So special."

Like this? Like the world's stopped, instead of mercilessly spinning around? No, he hasn't. This is the first time it's felt as if everything finally makes sense.

He knows it's fleeting. Aki doesn't want to think about what's going to happen when this is all over. He wants to think even less about how he probably won't see you again after tonight, how he won't be able to forget the things you've said to him, how he'll feel your touch linger on his skin for the rest of his time alive, and he'll end up cursing himself for not stretching out this moment with you for a few moments more.

Returning to his same old job, the same old nightmare, only to feel that familiar lingering pain will be even harder to bear knowing the taste he's had of something softer.

He takes a deep breath in, an even deeper breath out, and somehow manages not to tear up. He answers, "Not until now."

"I must be doing something right then, huh?"

Aki can practically feel your smile against his skin, swears he can almost hear it in your voice. You sit up, and that intoxicating grin is proven true on your face. Your hand cups his cheek and Aki, ever so pliant, finds himself leaning into your touch.

"So-"

The moment's short-lived, because you're already tearing your hand away and breaking the silence; you scooch further back, and Aki watches, complacent. His heart skips to a steady rhythm in his chest. The ghost of your touch still lingers on his cheek, tingling and warm.

"...You've really never done this before, or anything like this. Right?"

Aki doesn't answer, figures it's rhetorical. By now, you've settled on his thighs, you're reaching down for his belt. He hardly notices. He stares at the shadows — yours, his — on the ceiling and allows his mind to spin.

He's important to you. His head keeps coming back to those words in particular. Through your eyes, he'd like to see himself. Perhaps then, he'd come to treat his own well-being much kinder, gentler.

You're already fiddling with the buckle. "Why though, why haven't you?"

He merely shrugs, not having an answer. The gentle clink of metal on metal rings in his ears, and he tries not to pay too much attention.

"You ever had a girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

Aki freezes up at that: stone cold. Though it's not like he has a reason to lie.

"No. I haven't."

Cute. God, he's cute. The professional little topknot devil hunter you found yourself so intrigued by is an innocent, goody two-shoes virgin.

Carefully, you pull the metal pin from the hole in the leather, working it free. The buckle makes a satisfying jingle as you smoothly tug his belt from the loops in his slacks. Gaze focused down, you're talking while you work, "Ever been asked on a date? You're handsome, I can't imagine you never have. Do you always say no to that kind of thing?"

Aki's voice is level. "I've had a few people ask me before. But I turned them down."

"Why's that? Not interested?"

Tilting his head, eyes narrowing, he fixates on the streaky paint job adorning the adjacent wall.

"I guess not. I don't want to burden anyone. And I don't have time to go on dates, anyways."

His belt is gathered in your hands and neatly set aside onto the edge of the bed. You hook your fingers in the empty loops of his slacks, you take a moment to feel the smooth fabric beneath your palms. No reaction. Then, you're toying with the shiny silver button on the front, you're popping it — and that gets Aki to suck in a nice, sharp breath.

"A burden… How could you be a burden to anyone?" You ask him honestly. As you're pulling down his zipper, he props himself up on his elbows, and you're glancing up at his face; his brows are slightly knotted, he's looking away, he's still fronting his composure. His slacks go loose around his hips, and he presses his thighs together instinctively, holding them in place.

Matter-of-factly, like he's reading off a script rehearsed a thousand times over, he answers, "I'm not good with relationships. And either way, I'm a devil hunter. Devil hunters die on missions often. It'd be irresponsible to get involved with someone. If I die, I'd only be burdening whoever I leave behind."

"Lift your hips for me."

At the murmur of your command, Aki does so, slowly lifting his hips off the bed, enough to allow you to pull his pants past the divots of his hips, down his thighs and his bruised knees, all the way until they're left pooling at his ankles. Your thumbs hook around his waistband, touch warm on his bare skin. He doesn't notice the way you're smiling to yourself; his boxers are a soft, blue and black plaid, so fitting for him. You're barely able to resist making a comment about how cute they are.

"So you'll burden yourself, make yourself lonely to avoid hurting someone else," You meet his eyes, but for only half of a second before the creeping heat on his spine forces him to look away. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more self-sacrificing."

Trying to hide his growing nerves, Aki flexes his sweaty hands, "It's what I have to do. You'd understand more if you were in my position. If you were a devil hunter."

What he has to do. There he goes again. All of the sudden, it's like you're back at square one, remembering how you felt when you first sat beside him. How you watched him shake and wanted more than anything to hold him until he was breathing again.

You'll have him change his mind by the end of tonight, no matter what it takes.

You scoff, "Is that so?"

Your head tilts, fingertips drumming on his side, touch so faint he can hardly feel it. Aki steals a glance towards you. The hint of a smile on your face is indecipherable.

"You aren't a burden to me."

This time, he holds his gaze on you, he keeps it there. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. His heart shouldn't skip in the way it does, instantly pounding and throttling inside his chest. You've barely said anything, but those simple, stupid words alone send him spiraling a mile a minute.

Throat dry, hands clammy, he's about to muster up the courage to ask you if you really mean that when you're sitting up, sliding off of him, smiling warmly and laughing even warmer. "And for the record, I think you'd do pretty well on a date."

He wants to, because boy does he feel awkward letting you ramble on while he stays silent, but Aki can't seem to figure out how he's supposed to respond to that, either.

'Til now, a date seemed like such a foreign concept. The kind of thing his coworkers blabber about to pass the time. The kind of thing he'd only see in movies where the world isn't as complicated, and afterwards be left to wonder if it's anything like real life.

Probably not. Life is never so simple. He shouldn't get his hopes up. A date with you might be nice, though. Your arm outstretches, your hand tightly grasps his wrist before Aki can mull over the rest of those thoughts.

"Look, c'mere." You instruct, tugging him forwards, he follows along and you pull him until he sits up the rest of the way. "Sit on the end of the bed. Make yourself comfortable."

So, Aki does. The mattress shifts as he shuffles to position at the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over. You let go of his wrist and you carelessly push his clothes onto the floor in a heavy heap to make more room for him. Your eyes lock with his, you're sinking down in front of him and — Oh. You're sinking down in front of him.

The realization alone hits him nearly as hard as the sight of you below him. When you're down on your knees, you're forced to tilt your head, peering up at him through your lashes. Aki takes deep, steady breaths, they're shakier than he expected. He can't stop his heart from beating out of his chest, his gut from stirring with warmth.

Just like that, he's finally out of his head. He was almost starting to forget what the plan was in the first place.

You're giving him no time to rest either, already messing with the waistband of his briefs, hooking your fingers around while your other hand rests on his thigh and pushes them apart. He can hardly handle this; he's red in the face, he can feel beads of sweat prickle at the back of his neck and his forehead. You drag your fingers away, his waistband gently snaps against his skin, and as your palms work their way downward, smoothly gliding across his thighs, Aki shudders from the familiar, eager pang between his legs.

It isn't even all that dirty. Aki covers his mouth with his palm, surmises he's the dirty one for already getting so worked up when the only thing you've done is get down on your knees in front of him.

You rest your cheek on his inner thigh, you stare up at him with big, soft, wide eyes; you're so pretty like this, and he's so much taller compared to you, so much larger — You're the one beneath him but God, you're still the one with all the power.

Aki is the one who's waiting with bated breath for you to give him something, anything. You've got him in the palm of your hands, and he's the one who would so easily turn the situation around at a single word from you. He'd kneel and beg for it if it's what you wanted, what you asked for him to do.

Hopeless, he's always so hopeless when it comes to you, and every little thing you do to him only makes that clearer and clearer.

"Nervous?" You coo, and Aki's quick to answer with a hasty shake of his head, denying. Your eyebrow cocks, "Yeah? You look nervous."

"I'm not." Deep and weighty, Aki inhales, letting cold, sharp air enter his lungs. You keep your eyes locked onto his and he fights every urge in his system to tear his gaze away.

"It's okay if you are."

"I'm- I'm fine. Really."

Sure, he might say that, but in the short time you've known him, you've come to learn Aki is the easiest man in the world to see through. He's more honest than he tries to be, you bet he isn't even trying to lie, more-so attempting to keep himself convinced. He isn't nervous, he can handle this. He'll be fine. All he has to do is trust you.

"Are you sure you're ready?" You're asking, tone genuine, a flash of concern in the back of your eyes, "We can keep relaxing some more instead, if you want to. I wouldn't mind."

And he does, he trusts you, he really, really does. That's why when you're asking him, even though his heart is in his throat, he's giving you a hesitant nod, he's answering with a quiet voice, "Yes. I don't want to stop."

"Promise?"

Aki swallows. "Promise."

An ambient buzz fills the room when the air conditioner kicks on. The familiar smile returns to your face, now. Your fingertip trails nonchalantly up his inner thigh, it dips under his briefs, leaving goosebumps on his leg when it dances across his bare skin.

"You aren't used to this, I know."

You stretch that last syllable out until it makes him dizzy. Your bottom lip is pouty, tone sweet but pitying, "You've never had anything like this happen to you, huh?"

Your thumbs brush his waistband again. This time, it really seems as if you're going to grab it and start to take off his briefs, in the slow, teasing way he's found fitting of you, but your hands drift right away. Aki lets go of his held breath and can't decide if he feels disappointment or relief.

He grunts softly, he shifts. He stares down at your pretty hands as they softly squeeze his thighs, and he spreads them open a little wider on impulse. Quietly, he answers you simply, "Mhmm."

"You're pretty smart though. I bet you knew this would happen all along."

"It… Maybe. Maybe it could have. I wasn't sure what the hell you were planning."

Despite your teasing, or perhaps because of it, he's still all tense, still shifting with unrest. He reaches up and presses a palm to his forehead, he feels the heat that's builded there, pushing the messy strands of hair away from his eyes. The slightest outline is tenting his boxers, fabric darkened around where it's damp. Aki breathes a long, shaky sigh, his eyelids flutter. He leans back on the heels of his palms and swallows, his throat dry, gasping from the effort.

You murmur, "Never had anyone jerk you off before?"

"Ah-"

Instantly caught off guard, Aki feels his whole face get set on fire, his cheeks burn and his head goes woozy; blood rushes between his legs and he can't say anything, he can barely even manage the hurried shake of his head. It isn't the question, not you asking what he's done. It's the insinuation of what you're about to do.

He stammers over his own tongue, trying to rush a response, "No, no that's- No."

Leaning back a bit, he forces his posture to relax, his shoulders slumping. He stares down at you and doesn't care to fix his bangs when they fall in a sweaty mess around his eyes.

Your slight grin turns into something more akin to a smirk. You've just gotta do a little dirty talking to get him into it.

"Oh, yeah?" You tilt your head, your voice lilts in a giggly, far too innocent sort of way, "You're so sweet, I can't wait to touch you. You gonna let me make you cum?"

Aki breathes an airy gasp, almost chokes, doesn't answer. How the hell is he supposed to answer that? His wrist pops when he flexes his hand too hard, he starts trying to speak but everything comes out in a stuttery mix of ah's and uhm's and eh's. He was red in the face from the very start, but now, it's so much worse; the tips of his ears almost hurt from how hot they've been burning.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like you were expecting an answer, because you're already peering up at him and continuing on.

"I can touch you, can't I?"

Voice as sweet and as smooth as spun silk, hands delicate and light as they skate the apex of his thighs, rubbing, then squeezing — If there was no hope of denying you before, Aki stares into your sparkling eyes and knows at this point, he's utterly done for. Not like he was ever planning on stopping in the first place.

He gulps, Adam's apple heavy and bobbing in his throat. He gives you the go-ahead with a simple nod. His hips squirm and his body weight shifts back and forth as he tries to get more comfortable, ignoring the growing tension gnawing at his gut and aching in his lap. Carefully, your fingertips drag from his thigh to his waistband. Then, across to the other side, and then back again, ever-so teasingly circling where you know he wants you to touch, dancing around where he's starting to get fatter and needier beneath his briefs.

The anticipation is worse than anything. Prickling at his neck, it bites down harder and harder with each passing second.

Your voice chimes out louder than the perpetual ringing in his ears. "Tell me I can, Aki."

Aki. His name sounded nicer that time than any of the other times you've said it before. Or maybe he's losing his mind.

He is, isn't he? He knows he is, damn well. But he needs this, you're so sweet, he's been alone and he can't handle being strong anymore — So it's okay, right? It's okay to indulge, just this once?

"You can," He says, he's breathless when he tries to speak, "Please, I need you to."

He knows you can tell how badly he needs more, knows the way you're toying with him is on purpose. Your eyes never leaving his, the air trapped right in his lungs, you let the heel of your palm brush over him slightly, just barely. Almost like you did so by accident.

But Aki knows; he gasps louder than he was trying to, even the smallest graze of contact has his head heavy, has him feeling himself pulse — and he's never felt that, never felt it ache so fucking badly before. He's a mess underneath his briefs already, and you've hardly touched him, hardly done anything more than tease. Yet still, he's dizzy, wound up and panting. You can tell how desperate he is, he's sure of it, but it's clear playing this game with him is your only concern.

Each echo of his loud, staggered breathing is music to your ears. Your fingertips brush closer, closer. He fists his hands in the sheets, he grips them firm to try and establish some form of composure. The thick fabric of his boxers is impossibly tight around him, so wet and constricting, he'd go ahead and tear them right off if he had less self-control.

But he's better than that. A little better, at least. Aki can play. He can be good, patient, compliant. He's put together enough to survive through your teasing, to keep meeting your eyes with the same eager, lust-filled flicker present in the back of his gaze as what's reflected in yours.

He isn't good enough to keep himself from getting hard, though. He's insatiable, sitting heavy on his thigh. And once you bring your hand to him again, soft expression caught between amusement and adoration, once you're more deliberate — Your hand rubs the stiff outline of his cock through the fabric, he's warm and he's perfect, you love the way his breath shakes. Love how his lips part and his pretty blue eyes go glossy, like water frozen-over.

Right then, Aki doesn't have enough strength to stop himself from gasping, from bucking his hips up into your touch to get closer. He huffs in disappointment the moment your palm travels away.

His head slightly tossed back, he shuts his eyes tight, he inhales harshly and his knuckles protrude out from his hand when his grip tightens on the sheets. His hair is a mess in his face, every inch of his skin is tinged rosy, warm to the touch. You've barely started, you've barely touched him, and already, he's falling apart.

And it's Aki, it's Aki who you're touching, who you've got falling apart at the seams from a few simple touches — It's him, everything about him and no-one else that has you so hooked. Those same broad shoulders tense up, skin slick with beads of sweat. His shiny black earrings glint when they catch the light. It's his tone of voice when your hand grips him again, his soft gasps that turn into even softer moans. Your touch melts his normally so smooth, so stern voice into high-pitched whimpers and whines, shy noises he has to keep muffled with the palm of his hand.

Your head is spinning. You squeeze him harder, toying with his thickening cock through his briefs, and Aki groans into his palm, his own breath hot on his skin. Pleasure racks through his body in waves. He needs your touch more, closer, his bottom lip won't stop quivering, and he thinks he'll die if you stroke him any harder, but he couldn't take it if you stopped.

With your thumb, you press down, applying the slightest pressure, you rub up the length of him and you swear when you reach the tip you can feel his dick throb.

You smirk, nearly chuckle, instead huffing contently out through your nose. Your gaze fixates on his lap, where his shape's grown more prominent now. "Sensitive, huh?"

Aki replies with a shallow, barely-there nod you almost don't manage to catch.

Almost.

"Yeah?" You place your whole palm over his covered cock, you admire the way he barely fits in your hand, "You must be, look at you. So hard. So needy already."

Aki's voice goes shaky, breathy. He spreads his thighs wider. His dick's twitching, leaking wet and sticky precum onto his leg, and the better you make him feel the more difficult it gets to keep playing along. "Mhmm…"

Your hand slowly drifts away with him, he follows your movement with his gaze as you take it up, up, up, until your fingers are wrapping around his waistband, and Aki's heaving a forceful sigh at the thought of you tugging it down.

"You want these off?"

You're clearly looking right at him, clearly asking for his answer, but he can't. His chest heaves, and Aki stares back at you dumbfoundedly, like a deer caught right in your headlights.

Your head tilts, "You gonna answer?"

Perhaps you're being a slight bit cruel to him, you're aware. But when his eyelids promptly flutter, when his expression starts to soften as you bring your hand back down, when you grab him and squeeze his dick through the fabric hard, his thighs tremor. He utters something pretty, something between a hitched breath and a whine, and you just can't help yourself.

He grits his teeth, jaw tense as he grinds them. His hips shift and threaten to roll up into your touch, but you stop him, holding him still with a firm hand on his thigh.

"C'mon," You scoff through a smile, "Talk to me."

"I- I'm- Give me a minute." Aki manages. You can't help but be impressed by how smooth his voice still sounds, how level he can keep it, despite how desperate he clearly is.

Your smile half-drops, and you let your tone go rigid for a moment, nice and genuine. "You alright? Is it too much?"

"No, no, keep- Keep touching." Aki huffs softly, neediness more present in his voice this time. He glances down, meets your gaze with big, round pupils, full moons of black swallowing the ocean blue of his iris. "But don't take anything off yet."

Oh. You like this. The desperation is more than evident in his eyes, in his voice, but that was stern, he's commanding. You can't deny how much you like it when he's selfish, when he takes some initiative. You could get used to him being bossy. It makes you wonder what else you'd see if you could bring out more of this side of him. Maybe in time.

So, without protest, you oblige; your hand finds the thick curve of his dick through his briefs, you give it a nice firm squeeze and Aki tosses his head backward, he swears under his breath. Sparks run through his veins again, his heart beats against his chest and fuck, he can feel himself dripping. He's making a damp, sticky mess of his cotton boxers. You grip him firm, give him a few half-hearted strokes, you fist his cock as best you can with the fabric in the way.

Aki shudders from his legs to his shoulders. His cock leaks steady dribbles of precum into his briefs, and he's certain you can feel the growing dampness of the fabric with the palm of your hand.

You're groping him so softly, and he's starting to throb, pulsing incessantly until he's squirming, his head spinning, his dick commanding all his attention. He can't even think, let alone speak. The softer you touch him, the more everything melts; his throat's dry, his heart aches from pounding so fast, so hard.

He wants to ask you to strip him of his briefs already. You won't make it easy, he's sure. Could he even handle any more than this? Briefly, when you stop touching for a moment, his head begins to clear, and Aki debates with himself whether he should start begging. He's sitting up, he's peering down at you with a quivering bottom lip, sorting through his options as he thinks of what to say.

And then, before he has the chance to make up his mind, and right when he thinks things couldn't get any worse, you start leaning in.

Staring up at him through your eyelashes, never breaking eye-contact, your hands on his thighs, your face between his legs, Aki watches as you kiss the shape of his cock through his boxers. Your lips are plush enough to feel, breath warm enough to give him a head rush.

He thought he'd be able to regain his composure if you gave him some time. But he was wrong, so wrong.

His breathing comes out a thousand times faster. The room is small, he's getting dizzy. He can fucking feel the outline of your lips like they're right there, with nothing inbetween, and he can't, not anymore, he can't take it.

"Stop… stop… stop…" Oh, he's whining now, so much for being assertive — He's practically blubbering over his words as he tries to speak them.

You freeze, hand hovering in the air. "You had enough?"

Aki gulps, hard enough to make his throat ache, to cause his Adam's apple to bob up and down solidly. Sweat forces his bangs to stick to his forehead and tickle his vision.

"Please." He begs that word and that word alone, voice fraying at the edges, soft and barely audible. It's difficult to speak, but he's trying.

"Please what?" Your palm rubs smooth circles into his thigh, your head tilts, "What is it?"

You're ridiculous.

Aki huffs. He throws his head back in annoyance and grumbles, but with a stern tone, he answers anyways, "Please touch me."

"You want these off?" Repeating the same motion, hooking your fingers around his waistband for the hundredth time, you peer up at him, to where his hand's come to cover his eyes, "Look at me."

Sweat glistens on the edges of his frame. Aki breathes in slowly, deeply. His lungs hurt. He clenches his jaw so tight it nearly starts to sting.

"C'mon, you can do it," Your hands drift up to meet his hips, thumbs nudging at his hip bones. Your words are much sharper than your touch, "I can keep teasing you, is that what you want? I'll gladly keep these on, keep touching you just like this."

Aki can't see it, but he can feel how your palms leave and then appear further down. They dance over his cock and give a tentative squeeze, and then one hand is gripping his thigh as the other squeezes him harder, firmer. He groans, breath catching, the sound of your voice laced with laughter resounds in his ears — "You wanna cum like this? God, that'd be so cute. Cute little virgin devil hunter cumming in his briefs."

"Stop, stop-"

His last few syllables come out like a choke. Aki opens his eyes slowly, he sits up more, he looks at you through a gap between his fingers. That small hint of his gaze, dew forming at his lash line, pleads infinitely harder than his words ever could, "Take it off. Please."

You follow along.

You follow before he's even got his plea halfway out of his mouth, fingers tugging at his briefs, committing the desperate tinge to his voice to memory and letting it run rampant in your heart. You want to hear more, and you'll give more, to get that taste of the side he only shows to you. You lean in, press another faint kiss to him — he shivers, swallows thickly — your eyes catch his for half a second longer than they should and he's flustered, his gaze is quick to flicker away.

The anticipation is palpable. Aki feels the way it bubbles up in his veins, swiftly boiling over. He shifts, he tries not to look as your hands around his waistband expose the messy patch of dark hair around his pelvis. He closes his eyes, and he sucks in a breath loud enough to hear when you finally free his hard cock; it springs up, taps gently against his stomach.

Fuck, he's pretty. Thick and pretty and long, the head's flushed a rosy shade of red, wet and glistening. You lean in a bit, not touching yet. You sigh and breathe warm air onto the weeping tip, and you swear you catch the way his dick twitches.

You're staring up at him, he can feel your gaze, but he can't even look at you. Aki leans back further, his weight resting on the heels of his palms. He overestimated how much of this he could handle, possibly. He'll go insane by the end of this, surely. You're not touching, you haven't touched yet. But he's still so hard and he just knows you're smiling, waiting for him to glance down at you so he can see it.

Steady droplets of precum drip down the length of him. His mind's a mess, he's so dizzy he can't think. You're cooing something he can hardly hear over the ringing in his ears, under your breath — Oh, sweetheart. — and suddenly the air gets so much thicker. The end of your thumb presses to the tip of his cock, rubbing right over the soaked slit, echoing soft, wet noises, sending needy pangs of pleasure straight through his system, and it's all too much.

Your voice is warm, soft around the edges. "Look at you. You're so thick, I got you so hard, huh? Look at how pretty you are."

"G-God…" Aki mumbles. The mattress bounces as he flops back-first onto the bed, an arm tossed over his face; this time, you gently squeeze the tip between your thumb and your index. You're coaxing more precum to coat your knuckles and your fingers, slick and shiny when it drips down and gets his dick nice and wet — "Don't, I- oh f-fuck…"

You're fisting the tip, gripping it in your palm and gently stroking — You grind it hard against your hand, squeeze and massage it between your fingers. Up and down, jerking him off by the tip, just the tip. A little faster, then. 'Til he can't only feel your touch, but hear it, too.

Wetness clings to your hand, slick on the head of his cock and sticky on your skin. Aki can't breathe. You're going faster, he's panting harder, louder. His back arches, clumsily bucking him into your touch, he tenses up and he feels so good, so amazing.

He could cum if you don't stop, just from this. He thinks by now, you probably know.

Having him at your mercy is as perfect as you could have ever expected it to be. He's so goddamn needy, terribly touch starved, he's longed for this for so long, and you want to give him everything. Everything he can handle, whatever he needs. Aki moans, desperate and guttural, he runs a clumsy hand through his hair. The hitches in his breath, the gasps and the whines belong to you and you alone.

If you could tease him for the rest of the night, watch him squirm and beg, see him cry from something other than his usual strife for a change, you'd be completely, utterly content.

Your palm pumps the head of his cock to a steady, eager rhythm. His breathing is shaky, it's over and over and over as he pants, desperate for air. Desperate for anything.

He's gonna cum, he's gonna cum already, all over your hand and the sheets and his own dick —

But despite how toying you can be, you are merciful.

You abruptly take your hand away, his length falls against his stomach. And Aki swears, he grunts a disgruntled-sounding fuck and takes loud, heavy breaths, his brows knotted, his jaw tensed.

"There," You say softly, though your spine still tingles at the sound of his voice, "I'll stop. Take a breather."

Aki lets out a sigh so heavy and long his lungs shake with the weight of it. He swallows, his voice sore. "I was close."

Merciful, no; you'd be merciful if you let him finish, but you haven't. And something tells him you won't, not until you're satisfied.

You tut, wiping your hand off onto the bedspread, "Uh-huh, I thought so. That's why I stopped. Come here, sit up again."

Aki stays still for a few moments longer, chest heaving. When he's mustered up the energy, he pushes himself up with a quiet grunt, fingers rubbing circles on his temple, pushing messy strands of hair away from his face. He shifts to sit onto the end of the bed again, squirming to get his briefs off and stepping out of them when they pool at his ankles. You snatch them up so they'll at least be off the floor, tossing them to the other end of the bed. Palm to his forehead, he feels how hot his face has gotten. Heat burns under his shoulders when he stretches and rolls them backward.

Elbows coming to rest on either of his thighs, you ask, "You alright?"

He's gonna have to be. Aki nods, glancing down towards you. "Yeah."

"You wanna keep going?"

Again, he answers, "Yes."

Carefully, you let your hand wrap around the thick base of his cock. You're barely touching, but it still gets him to shudder. The faint patch of his dark hair tickles your skin. Aki sighs, he tries to relax, leaning back and spreading his legs more. His heart hammers in his chest but his body feels limp, like he's weightless.

"Is this alright?" You're glancing up at him through your lashes, "Should I keep going?"

"Yes." Aki answers, "Please."

Whatever was stressing you out at the beginning of the night doesn't matter. All the worries and the boredom mean nothing, they don't exist anymore. You can hardly remember how you were feeling then, what was going through your head, you've ceased to think about any of it. This moment is the only thing you care about — Aki is the only one you care about.

Nothing else matters, nothing but the pretty look that overtakes his features once your hand grips harder and starts moving, nothing but the eager sigh he breathes out as a plea. Nothing is running though your mind but how perfect he feels in your palm: hard and silky and wet.

It's clearer now than it ever was before just how sensitive he is, his dick twitches when you drag your palm up, throbs like a heartbeat when you squeeze too firmly on the first upstroke. You're as gentle as you can be to ease him into it. You keep your hand nice and loose, stroke him up, down. You wait a few moments for him to get used to the feeling, and then continue again.

Being touched by you is what makes it all the more sweeter. Aki watches your movement with his breath already ragged, gaze flickering from your face to the work of your palm. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down to keep from falling apart.

The slow pace of your hand on his cock becomes more manageable the more he gets used to it. Peering up at him, you ask him a question you're sure you already know the answer to.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this before?"

It's nice to hear your voice again. The sound is familiar, oddly comforting to him. Aki gasps when your palm swipes the sensitive head, he answers with a quick and barely audible no. That'd make you the first.

The first to jerk him off, probably the first to see him like this. The first person to hear the way his voice sounds when it's breaking, the first to make him feel this way, the first to touch him here besides his own hand.

Maybe you're the first to kiss him, too. God, his first kiss.

You shouldn't say anything, but you can't seem to keep your mouth shut. "Was that your first kiss too? Earlier, I mean."

It's indulgent, definitely. Possessive. Wrong of you, even. There's something certainly wrong with how your heart gets way too fucking fluttery, simply from the thought of finding yourself as Aki's first kiss; you, of all people, a total stranger. You were able to charm him enough to let his guard down, he's enamored with you to the point of no return.

You aren't the type to act this way, you swear you aren't. But Aki makes everything easy. Is it so wrong of you to want to take his firsts for yourself?

Fortunately, Aki's oblivious enough to indulge you.

"No," He snaps, his voice threatens to waver, and you hate yourself for it, but you can't help but feel a slight, sudden tinge of disappointment. You take out the ire of that feeling by stroking his cock faster.

"Hhah," Aki trembles, pleasure rushes through his veins and he can barely keep his eyes open and focused on you. "Not- not the first. But- doesn't matter. I haven't… nothing like that. I haven't done anything like that."

You're smiling to yourself. "Yeah? Nothing as good, huh? You liked kissing me, didn't you?"

If you weren't busy making him feel so good, if your touch wasn't so perfect, if he could think somewhat straight instead of nowhere near the mark at all, maybe he would have started to wonder why you're asking him such stupid questions. But he doesn't.

"Yeah, yeah." Breath weighty in his lungs, a burning warmth spreads across the back of Aki's neck as your hand pumps his aching cock harder still, "S'good, so good. I… I want to- oh- Slow down, slow down, slow down…"

His gasps turn to soft, open-mouthed whines, he muffles them with his palm, he's so loud it's shameful. Your touch disappears when you take your hand away, embarrassment is a creeping warmth on the end of his spine and Aki shuts his eyes tight. He takes in quick, choppy breaths, trying to slow them to calm down. It's no use, the burn in his lungs has him panting sharp and shaky. He leans his head back, his hair tickles his shoulders. Tapping your fingers against his thigh, running them along the wake of gooseflesh, you graciously give him a couple seconds to compose himself.

"You okay?" You ask quietly.

Aki swallows, nods. His hands are shaking. He props himself back up and watches in timid silence as you lean in, pressing a feather-light kiss to where his hip bone juts out from his side. Sighing, eyelids fluttery, Aki resists the urge to reach out and touch you. You place another kiss onto his stomach, you squeeze his thigh at the same time, and you can't resist smiling from the breathy, meager noise that leaves his lips.

"Just relax. Take it easy." Hands at your sides, you speak slowly, calmly, until Aki is starting to mirror. "There's no reason to get so worked up. We've got all the time in the world."

Steady, Aki exhales the breath he was holding. His posture straightens, he keeps his gaze fixated on you and watches as you come into focus, the knots in his brain untangling themselves.

"I'll go slower this time." You say smoothly, "You'll be fine, focus on me. Okay?"

In response, Aki nods again, harder than before, more assured. His muscles loosen when he grabs his shoulder and squeezes, rolling the tension out beneath his palm. He shifts, getting comfortable. Once he's settled, gaze rested on you in waiting, that's when you finally return to him.

The budding warmth of him in your hand is a sensation you've grown used to, the gentle way his length pulses to the tune of his thudding heart are rhythmic enough to memorize. He's thick and heavy in your palm, already firm again when you stroke up, applying a slight pressure the closer you get to the head. Slick precum wets his slit, it drips onto your knuckles.

Aki wobbles, the bridge of his nose crinkles and creases. Spots of light paint the darkness in his vision, his eyes closing. He exhales, calms, and he only now realizes the way his knuckles ache from clenching them so hard. Easing up his hands, he drums his fingers against the bed to give himself something else to do with them, he tries as best he can to keep his mind from racing.

"There you go. Now you're relaxed." Your thumb gently brushes over the tip of his cock, Aki grits his teeth hard. "You've been so pent up, haven't you?"

He tries, but he can't speak without stuttering: "I'm, ah, a little-"

"When's the last time you touched yourself?"

"I-"

There's no way he can answer that. There's no reason to, either. But —

"I… I don't know." Aki's voice comes out softer than he wanted it to, weak and airy when the words leave his throat. Your hand's stopped, his heart pounds audibly his ears. You stare at him expectantly, and Aki's eyes nervously scan you up and down.

Your head tilts. "Too shy to tell me? That's okay."

"No," Aki snaps, "I can't remember, it's been a while. Maybe a few months ago? Sorry, is that a stupid answer?"

It might be, he doesn't know, but shame fades away to pleasure the moment your hand starts moving again.

True to your word, once your rhythm's started up once more, you're much slower, much more careful. Your strokes are shallow, they're teasing, the fluid motion of your wrist keeps him panting, but right under the edge of getting overwhelmed. Your focus stays on him to will Aki to do the same, eyes on his, his own gaze cloudy with need, with anticipation. You watch the persistent rise and fall of his chest in your peripheral.

"Is it 'cause you're too busy?"

"A little, I'm, hhah," Aki stutters when your hand twists and then squeezes, "A little busy. Ever since my boss made me… s-shit," A soft grunt, "Ever since they moved in with me, I haven't had any time alone."

Ever since they moved in with me, could he mean the trouble-makers from before?

"Awe, is that so?" You coo, "Poor thing."

Aki's lips purse, his eyelids flutter, he nods his head and mutters a mix between a whine and a quiet mhmm.

Your voice is sweet, heady like liquor, "It must've been forever since you last had some alone time, you're so sensitive. All you want is to be taken care of, don't you?"

Head spinning, breath hot and sharp when it enters his lungs, Aki blinks away the blur taking over the edges of his vision. He tries not to choke at the sight of your delicate fingers wrapped right around his cock. Sensitive is exactly what he is when your palm caresses the fat head, making him gasp, his arms and his shoulders shivering, warmth in his chest and a fire underneath his veins.

Aki sighs, "Yeah." He does. He wants to be taken care of, wants to be treated softly by you.

"It's hard, huh? Hard to always have to be so strong." The heel of your palm rubs harder into his cockhead and Aki groans, tosses his head back until his hair is making a mess in his eyes. The smile on your face is deceptively innocent, "It's hard when you're a devil hunter. Even harder when you don't get all the love you deserve. You just wanna feel loved and safe and cared for. Isn't that right?"

Right. You're right. And truthfully, he's never realized how badly he needed this until now, until he met you.

It's so hard, every new day he spends slaughtering devils becomes harder and harder, and Aki wants to be weak, to let go, like you're all he has. He's spent so long in hell he didn't realize how much he craved to feel a dose of heaven. He couldn't have imagined the way he'd end up, or could have predicted where he is now, alone with you while all his senses spark alight, his heart in your waiting hands.

But he doesn't regret anything. He's stupid, really stupid, stupid and insatiable and everything he thought he couldn't be — and he loves every second of it.

Aki swallows. "Yeah, I want to." Trembling, and then steady, "But I already do. You make me- you're making me feel so…"

You think your heart might explode.

Your lips can't help but twist into a smile, you let your palms wander to give his thighs a playful squeeze. "You're such a sweetheart."

Aki opens his mouth, he realizes he doesn't know what to say half-way through.

So you continue on instead, "You think you can do something for me?"

"Uh," He clears his throat, "Sure."

You reach for his wrist, gripping it tight, dragging him closer.

"C'mere."

Your hand guides his own — much larger than yours, the difference in size between his and your palms is way more noticeable when your hands are pressed to one another — and carefully, your hand wrapping back around his waiting cock, you bring his own hand to lay on top of yours. His palm brushes over your knuckles, his fingers twitch and jitter before they settle. His glance flickers towards you, gaze expectant, his lips slightly parted; your words are the only thing to finally crush his confusion.

"Show me."

"Huh?"

"Show me how you touch yourself," You instruct, "I wanna see how you make yourself feel good."

"Ah-" Aki's voice cracks, he looks away, fights the urge to take his hand away, too, "What you were doing was fine, you don't need to- I don't-"

You interrupt when Aki starts to trail off, "Please, Aki?"

Funny how those few words are enough to make him start to forget why he ever wanted to object in the first place. Your eyes are big and pretty, practically sparkling. You tilt your head and fucking hell, he's never going to be able to resist you, is he? He exhales, letting out the biggest, longest sigh of exasperation.

"Don't take it too seriously," You're saying. You laugh a little, and it makes your nose scrunch in a way Aki finds so endearing, "It'll be fun, I swear. You'll enjoy this. Relax, alright?"

Aki scoffs, breathing a soft tsk, mostly to himself. He gives you one more glance, pleading look and all. His shoulders slump, he pushes his bangs from his face with his other hand and sighs again, in defeat this time.

"Okay," He answers, "Alright."

Warmth burns hard in the apples of his cheeks. He bites down firmly on his bottom lip to steady himself, his fingers flex as he curls his hand around yours more comfortably. He glances towards you, shyly glances back down. Slowly, his palm begins to guide yours.

And Aki moves, touching himself with your own hand.

The languid rhythm he sets isn't much different from how your own was; he takes your hand up, down, lazy and smooth. He adjusts, spreading his legs wider to get a better grip. You stay focused on him, your expression soft, intoxicating, near impossible to look away from. Aki tries to ignore his nerves when he feels them inching up his spine, he closes his eyes to make it easier, his head slightly tossed back as he concentrates on your gentle palm, on the way your pretty hand jerks him off.

The feeling is similar to before, similar to when he'd do this by himself. But at the same time, it's different — It'll always be different, because it's your hand instead of his.

Your palm is smaller, much more delicate. He'd noticed the difference between you when you first started touching him. Hell, he knew how small your hand was compared to his own when you first grabbed it all those hours ago. The thought then made his heart pound. The sensation of it now makes him ache.

You don't have the calluses he does, or the scars, the bruises. Your touch is tender. Your touch is nothing like what he thinks he deserves, everything he could have ever longed for. His body's warm when the idea of you shakes inside his feeble chest and even weaker head. The look in your eyes makes him want to say something, to tell you how you make him feel, to explain how desperately he's longed for you. He can't come up with anything worthwhile. Soft, wet sounds fill the empty space instead.

His knuckles are filthy already. He catches a steady dribble of precum when he drags your hand up, he brings your palm over the tip and makes it slicker. Gentle breaths pair with every slow pump of his arm. His brows furrow each time he strokes to the top, his expression relaxes when he takes your touch back down. A prominent vein in his wrist bulges out each time he squeezes.

Aki can feel your gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. He's tried to stay composed. Tried not to lose whatever was left of his mind, but it's no use, it's never been. Even though he's the one guiding you, even though he's setting the pace, you're the one holding all the control — You could tell him to do absolutely anything right now and he would. One last word, one more please and he'd give all of himself to you, everything that remains.

Your voice is calming, quiet. He was almost beginning to miss what it sounded like: "You're so gentle. Do you go any faster?"

"No, I usually… I start off slow." Aki answers, the heat beneath his cheeks blossoming brighter. Strong enough to burn him alive, but he forces himself to continue through, "I've gotta get… used to it," He breathes a shaky gasp, timid hand leading your palm until you swipe over the needy tip of his cock, "Shit, so sensitive."

"You think about anything when you're doing this by yourself? Maybe someone you like?"

Aki exhales, he gulps hard enough to shake his Adam's apple, dragging your hand back down to the hilt, "I don't like anyone that way."

With his eyes still closed, he hasn't been able to tell, but when your warm breath fans over his aching length, hot and fuzzy and so much but at the same time, nothing at all — He can feel how close you've leaned in.

You continue, "Do you think about having sex?"

"No. I guess not." Aki lets his eyes open, he stares up at the ceiling. His chest expands with the deep gulp of air he takes, "I focus on the feeling. Let my mind go blank. I don't really think about anything."

A coy smirk tugs at the corners of your cheeks.

Perfect. This'll be another first, then.

"You wanna try thinking about it?" Your eyes meet his own when Aki glances down, he starts to say something but interrupts himself with a sharp breath in when you give his cock a teasing squeeze, deviating from his instructions. Yet he doesn't look away.

"Think about," He grunts, playing dumb, "Think about what?"

"While I'm touching you, why don't you think about having sex with me?"

Aki's eyes go wide. His mouth falls open, lips slightly ajar. He freezes in place, his expression twists from disbelief to something apprehensive.

"I can't do that." He's matter-of-fact with his answer. Stern, surely positive. If you knew any better you'd think he was scolding you. You'll change his mind very, very quickly.

"Sure you can. Here, my turn," You bat his hand away, leaving just yours touching, and Aki awkwardly hovers it in the air for a few long seconds before hesitantly placing it back down at his side. "What, are you too nervous?"

"Somewhat."

"Well, don't be."

"That doesn't help."

"I bet it's 'cause you're one of those people, like you have a bad imagination," You chuckle, the sound bubbly and light, "I'll help you out, don't worry. Lean back, close your eyes if you have to. All you have to do is try and picture what I tell you."

Aki blinks once, twice.

"Think you can do that for me? Pleeease. Just try."

With a disgruntled, loud exhale through his nose, he finally gives in. You're smiling wider as he shifts back, relaxing, resting his weight on his palms, and allowing his eyes to flutter shut.

"You ready?"

Aki nods, "Yeah. Keep going."

His hands clench the moment your palm starts stroking him again. The tension leaves his limbs like an ebbing wave; quick, anxious beats of his heart turn into loud, thudding echoes he can feel deep in his chest and hear in his ears. Your touch is deliberate, his cock is aching and sensitive; a few pumps of your hand are enough to get him hard around your fingers already, breathing in short pants, utterly desperate.

"Think about, hm," The pad of your thumb rubs circles into his cockhead, and Aki shivers, gritting his teeth firmly to get himself to focus. You're continuing, "Think about me and you. We're at your place. In your bedroom."

Listen, focus. Aki takes a steady inhale in, out, trying as best he can manage to bring a picture to the scene.

It would be dark, the lights off. The moon would hang high in the night sky. Your figure bathed in shadow, you'd be spread out over his navy blue bed sheets, arms sprawled above you, reaching up towards the headboard. His alarm clock would tick, tick, tick. The sounds of the city fill his bedroom's empty space: the low hum of distant sirens, the rumble of the trains. The cacophony which would inevitably come from his not-a-guest-room-anymore guest room would quickly drown out everything.

He wonders if the two of you would ever get a moment alone. He'd push his dresser in front of his bedroom door because it doesn't have a lock. He'd kick the two idiots out for the day — No, no, they'd just come walking in anyways, ruining everything, because whatever Aki says not to do is exactly what they end up doing.

It's giving him a headache. His face is starting to tense up, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched. You notice. "Don't overcomplicate things."

Aki huffs. "I'm trying."

From the base to the head, your hand strokes his dick, squeezing harder the closer you get to the tip until precum is wet on his slit and he's covering his mouth to muffle the sound of a soft whine. God, how is he this fucking sensitive?

The smoothness of your voice is his only tether to reality. "Let's try something else, maybe."

"I… I'm sorry," Aki's thighs twitch, his head spins. He lets go of his held breath, his hips shift from restlessness. "Alright."

"It's okay. Relax. Just try your best."

Aki breathes in. "Okay."

"How about you think of us right here? Y'know, maybe a little while from now on." Your hand pumps his cock faster, and Aki feels his pulse thrum rampant in his throat. "I'm on top of you, your hands are on my waist. Picture me in your lap like I was before, picture me touching you, just like this."

Gulping, he answers again, "Okay. I got it."

And he tries.

This new scene is easier to imagine now. You'd be on top of him, the neon light of the room frames your silhouette from behind you. All your clothes would be off, and his, too. You're pressed close to his own body with your skin warm, shimmering from sweat. Your hair is a mess, you're taking up every corner of his vision until you're the only thing he can perceive. One of your hands lays softly on his cheek; your phantom touch feels as real and as perfect as what he's come to be familiar with.

You'd grip and stroke him, just the same as in this moment. Your delicate palms would caress his neck, the length of his shoulders, down his chest. You'd brush his messy bangs from his eyes and kiss him on the corner of his mouth, gentle, but teasing enough to make him woozy.

He'll get to that point with you tonight if he isn't careful. These ideas in his head are very much real. That only makes them all the more intoxicating.

This time, your voice comes out at barely more than a whisper: "Are you imagining it? Thinking of me touching you? I'd make you feel so good, Aki. And then, I'd offer to make you feel even better."

Every thought in his head spins in circles, never getting anywhere. Aki focuses on your touch, on each pleasurable pump of your hand on his length.

"Yeah, yeah," Aki sighs, breath trembling, "When I think about it, I- Oh, fuck-"

When you'd grab him by his waist and sink down on him, skin against skin once he's all the way inside, when you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders and ride his aching cock until your rhythm of sighs are a mantra in his ear; he'd follow along, gripping you tight, fucking up into you as much as it takes to get you louder — Aki groans. He covers his face with both hands, he can't stop himself from rocking his hips into your touch, grinding his cock into your palm, desperate for more friction.

He's breathless, he feels filthy, his mind can't stop conjuring the thought of you pressed close to him, your fingers running through his hair, plush lips pressed to his nape while he's buried deep inside you. God, he's terrible, he's dirty for imagining this, and yet he can't fucking stop. What the hell is he doing?

Aki pictures how you'd coo into his ear, how the tones to your voice that he's already managed to memorize would echo sweet gasps and even sweeter utterances of his name. You'd cling to each syllable like it's special as you say it for him, over and over again. Aki, Aki, Aki.

Please, Aki. I need you.

He's losing his mind. The sensible half of him tells him he needs to get a grip. But it's a little hard, impossible, even, to do so when your hand is stroking his needy cock, and when his whole body feels light, when he's gotten so hard he's practically aching. His thighs are trembling, his heart is beating wild inside his chest.

So, he decides he won't stop you. Aki grunts low in his throat, his eyes flutter open, but he closes them again when a glimpse at your pretty face staring up at him only makes the picture in his head even clearer.

He knows you're smirking now.

"Does it feel good?" You purr, and it's in that same sweet voice he was imagining, "You thinking about fucking me?"

"Y-Yes…" Aki answers, panting, hesitant and quiet, like he's almost hoping you won't end up hearing him.

But you do, "Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking of."

Your hand pumps him firmly, he's slick, silky underneath your touch; the sound it makes every time you drag upward is indecent, disgustingly wet. Precum drips from his cockhead in steady droplets. You swipe the tip with your palm and coat the rest of his length in his arousal.

Aki's words are shaky: "You're… you're on top of me. And you're kissing me, and I'm- I…"

You squeeze him harder, the rest of whatever he was trying to say catches in his throat and he nearly chokes, his shoulders tense. He can't even think anymore, and he couldn't possibly say anything to you when he cracks his eyes open and meets your gaze — for only a few moments, but enough to make pleasure boil hotter and deeper in the pit of his stomach, warmth traveling up the length of his spine.

He tries to speak, just one more time. His sentence barely starts before he's cutting himself off, gasping and sputtering, blown out pupils hidden behind fluttering eyelids. His bottom lip trembles alongside every ragged breath he takes.

You wanted for him to keep going. Wanted to hear him tell you all about how that sweet head of his imagined taking you — and you're normally patient enough to wait. Up until now, you've been unbelievably patient. You can't deny you like dragging things out with him, you enjoy watching him beg and squirm as he tries his best to keep up. You should give him time, let him have another break, and normally, you would. Normally.

Aki swallows, he pushes his hair from his face and it's clear his hand is shaking. His palm lingers, hiding the scarlet hue to his cheeks. He mumbles a muffled swear, he sighs out the softest please, and as you find yourself leaning in closer, you finally lose the last of your restraint.

He feels the tickle of your breath on his length first, warm and devilishly subtle. His fingers twitch, he swallows again to chase away the dryness in his throat, harder this time. He can't look. Then, there's the faint ghost of your lips, and as they press ever-so gently to the thick tip of his cock, kissing it softly, that's when Aki practically melts.

His shoulders slump, his head tilts back. Tingles rack his nerves, his heart pumps fast, hard. He can barely focus on anything but the feeling, too caught up with how you're starting to trail sloppy kisses down his cock; you kiss the right side, lean over and kiss the left. You admire the way his dick throbs beneath your lips, pulsing to the tune of his breathing: sharp, quick, and desperate.

There's something so tender about your touch, softness in intensity. There's a feeling budding deep in his center he can't begin to get enough of every time he sees you on your knees, between his legs, a saccharine look in the back of your eyes. When you continue to press warm kisses to his length, palm on his thigh to keep him steady, desire wells hot in his chest. He wants to touch you, hold you, keep you closer than anything he's ever had before because he needs this, needs you. God, does he need you.

Your kisses travel up the sensitive underside of his cock, and as your tongue swipes right under the head, Aki fists the sheets so hard he feels his joints ache.

"F-Fuck," The pleasure's practically overwhelming, Aki pants forcefully as if his lungs are pleading for air, "Fuck, oh God- please, I-"

Voice wobbling and fraying, he can hardly speak; the tip of your tongue flicks against his cockhead, wet and teasing, and he's done, utterly done for.

His entire body shivers, he sighs out whines too high-pitched for his usual tone. Your gaze flutters up, and Aki's sweating, quite literally dripping with sweat. Droplets cascade down his jaw, his chest shiny, skin glistening. Despite his best efforts, his hair has made a mess around his face again. His pulse is quick enough to feel, pounding feverishly in his ears.

Your hand pumps his cock fast. It's wetter now, slick from the mix of your saliva and his precum. He lets his eyes roll back, his mouth falling open. He moans at your touch, broken and feeble, loud enough that the room over would hear if the walls weren't already soundproof.

His taste is salty on your tongue when you swirl it around his tip, heady, taking over your senses. You lick his cockhead until he starts to go dizzy, quick flicks of your tongue making him twitch. You close your lips around, sucking softly when you feel him throb — and to your satisfaction, he only throbs harder. An incessant, needy pulse, he breathes deeper with the same sort of weight, gasping forcefully. He spreads his legs open as wide as they'll go, and leans further backward.

It feels so fucking good. He's shaking, his thighs and his hands trembling. You kiss him again, lips on the warm length of his cock, and his palms fly up to shyly cover his face, his stomach flexes — You know he's close.

And you were just getting started.

"Don't cum yet."

Lips hovered a centimeter away, you breathe the words onto his sensitive tip, the sensation sharper now that he's coated in your saliva. As your hand twists up the length of his cock, squeezing, he groans in a mix of pleasure and disappointment. You're quiet, and you almost think he didn't end up hearing you, but with his eyes shut tight and his temple creased, he finally answers, frantically shaking his head.

"No, no…" Aki pleads, he's full-blown whining, his voice is weak and trembles like he'll cry. When you abruptly let go of him, taking your hand away to leave him throbbing against nothing, his bottom lip quivers and he practically sobs.

"No, please, you can't… Please don't stop, I wanna- oh, please, please."

Only a few seconds without you, and he's needy already, dribbling precum while his thighs shake; his face is flushed with vibrant warmth, and his head dips to hide it, eyelids fluttering between open and closed. His hair falls around his pretty pierced ears, the ends of them burning in shades of pink and red. He pants, chest heaving, up, down.

"Awe, c'mon. You've been so good for me up 'til now." You offer him the smallest reprieve when your lips press against his cock in a faint kiss, and he can't help but whimper softly. "Try and hold out for a little bit longer."

Aki's voice sounds pathetic when it lilts, "I- I can't. I'm so close."

"I know you can, you'll do it for me, right?" You're purring, pleading, but it's less of a plea when you're already sure he'll do everything you tell him to. "Please, try?"

And you're right. There isn't a single possibility where he'd ever be able to say no to you.

Aki's mind goes foggy as all the blood rushes to his head, making him dizzy. He wants to cum on your tongue or your hand or wherever you'll let him so goddamn badly it's the only thing he can think about, and the thought of having to hold out for any longer is enough to send him reeling.

He's not sure how much more of this he can take, even if he tried. The smallest touch from you and he thinks he'll explode. Every part of his body is tense, begging for release.

But he can't say no. He couldn't. He won't, because it's you. Because you're sweet and perfect, because you promised to take care of him and he trusts that, trusts you. You know he can, and it's all he needs to hear.

Aki sighs in defeat. He meets your gaze, his eyes glossy with tears that haven't fallen yet; he blinks hastily to do away with them, and he nods his head, giving in.

You smile. You smile, and it makes everything worthwhile.

"Breathe, okay?" Your thumb rubs slow circles onto his tip, a tingly warm feeling returns to his gut, "Take deep breaths. I'm gonna take care of you. It'll feel so good when you finally finish, I promise."

Aki steadies himself, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He rolls his shoulders back, loosening them.

"Go slow," He says at last. He swallows, still slightly shaky, "Go slow or I'll cum."

Eagerly, your lips pressing to the warm head of his cock, you mutter a muffled mhmm. The noise sends pleasant vibrations down his length, and Aki groans quietly, urging you on.

Your hand grips the base of his cock to keep him situated. The promise you made to take care of him comes in the form of your wet tongue pressed flat on the underside, hand slowly pumping his length to get him ready, and your eyes closing as you start to take him into your mouth.

He's thick. He makes your throat tense up the more of him you try to swallow. You're unprepared for this, the same as he is. You shouldn't push yourself, but when he feels this perfect in your mouth, and when he's sighing, making such pretty noises already, you just aren't able to resist.

And even though tears are pricking at your lashes and your throat aches like you're going to choke, you need to hear more, give him more — You don't stop until you're at least halfway down. Until your hand is doing the rest of the work, and Aki's rewarding you with a whine, then a cute hitched gasp. He keeps his hands clenched at his sides, veins protruding from his knuckles when he fists the sheets and grips.

And God, is he hard, he must be aching. He won't stop throbbing to a rapid rhythm even once you're pulling back, sucking hard on the tip before sinking down when you're itching to feel him in your mouth again. His taste is addicting, strong, and you lick all the way up his length, drooling a mess of saliva onto his cock. You flick your tongue at his slit and breathe cool air onto him, watching the way he squirms. He'll cum soon if you aren't careful.

But Aki is pliant, despite your teasing. He's good. He can wait.

Even though he's already overwhelmed, he lets you place messy kisses all over his dick, he glances down and his gaze connects with yours as you're taking him back into your mouth — You're all droopy eyelids and soft eyes, his heart stops the moment you look at him, but now you're swallowing his cock down to the hilt and he can't look away. Can't do anything, in fact. Anything but hopelessly feel his breath come in short pants, gasping to the same tune as the lovely patter in his warm chest.

You keep your face buried in his pelvis until you start to get lightheaded. You're hollowing your cheeks, gently sucking while you pull back. And when you go down again, screwing your eyes shut and whimpering weakly around him from the pace you've set, Aki moans loud. You bob your head on his cock and his noises partially drown out your own: quiet gags, wet sputters.

Your head goes up and down, you drag upward to give yourself a break and catch your breath. Reaching for his hand, your tongue swirling around the head, your eyes half-open, you grip his wrist. You guide his palm to rest on the back of your head and sink back down at the same time. He keeps it there, shaky and hesitant at first, but when you gag on him and he suddenly needs something to hold onto, he's gripping tightly at your hair, his knuckles flexing.

This is debauched, and he knows it. You've given up on holding back, the noises you're making and the sight of you is downright disgusting, spit glistening on your lips and his shaft, your eyes shut, choking feebly as you suck him off. Your cheeks are wet with tears, and he reaches to brush them away with his thumb.

He knows, but he doesn't want you to stop, you can't stop. Holding your face in his hand, he admires you, unable to look away. You're gorgeous, your pretty eyes teary, your mouth on his cock. He's felt more in this moment than he has in forever — or perhaps he's never felt anything so intense, never been this tender-hearted. Not until you. With you, it begins and it ends, always.

You've got his dick down your throat, and all Aki can think about is how much he adores you.

Your pace increases, teetering on the edge of what you can handle. The tip of his cock rubs the soft inside of your cheek. Then, you're grabbing his thighs, coaxing them apart more and gripping them for leverage. You swirl your tongue as you take him, forgetting the need to breathe in order to lavish him as much as you want to, as much as he deserves.

The way it feels, fuck, the way it sounds — Aki is sure he could never hope to get your voice out of his mind, the hums you make when he rubs the back of your head affectionately, brushing your hair from your face with his fingers. The chokes you utter as you take him deeper, deeper. You're close to crying, but you aren't stopping, you don't stop because you're too addicted.

He's overwhelming every time he fills your throat, but you love this too much: the noises he makes through his teeth, the blissed out look on his face. You peer up at him through your lashes, your vision blurry, and Aki's gaze is heavy, locked onto yours. His bangs are a thick mess around his forehead, his chest rises and falls. The ragged melody of his breathing fills your ears; you're obsessed with his taste, with the soft touch of his hand on the back of your head.

His grip on your hair tightens. You stop for a moment, pulling back and placing a kiss to his needy cockhead, to which Aki instantly huffs a sigh of relief. Your gaze on his, you keep your tone at barely more than a whisper.

You ask him, "How's it feel?"

"Good," Aki's voice cracks like he's forgotten how to speak, "Feels good."

"Yeah? Keep talking to me."

You trail your tongue up his length, he's already soaked with your drool; you lick a stripe across the thick head and his fingers start to shake.

"Your mouth is- it's warm," He starts, already panting, swallowing thickly, his throat dry, "Pretty, you're so pretty. Can you- please, ah- yeah, that's it…"

Your lips close around him, and you take him back into your mouth, giving him just what he was hoping for. Aki feels all of his muscles tense, then relax. Working the rest of his cock with your hand, you run your tongue along his length's underside, licking and swirling, 'til he's in heaven.

"Oh, fuck- just like that," He encourages, his words shaky. Watching you try so hard to please him fills him with a bubbly warm sense of adoration, "I'm close, really close, I- oh- don't stop…"

His head tosses back, his moans are loud and desperate. Your mouth is irresistibly warm, so wet, your chokes send the most pleasant vibrations over his cock and make it impossible to try to speak. Your head bobs up and down recklessly as you focus on him and his pleasure alone. The rest of your mind is utterly blank. His grip grows stronger close to your scalp, so tight it nearly stings. He loosens his hold when he realizes he doesn't want to hurt you.

Fog in his head and a pounding in his heart, he's getting restless, impulsive, starting to move more — Aki clumsily bucks his hips up the next time you sink down, the slightest movement forcing him further down your throat, added pleasure making him moan, deep and guttural. He gasps, thighs trembling. He starts meeting the bobs of your head with gentle thrusts into your mouth, and he's so out of it you're not even sure if he realizes what he's doing.

Aki can't think, his head is spinning too fast, everything is dizzy. There's no way he can hold back any longer but he couldn't bother to care, he's so close and your pretty wet mouth feels so good and he needs to cum, God he needs to cum —

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," Aki begs in slurs of words and stuttered gasps, a roll of his hips fucking him deeper into your mouth. His vision is going white, he's struggling to keep looking at you; eyes watering, like he might cry, "Please, don't-"

You drag off of his cock with a strong suck and a pop of your lips, his pleasure wavers and wanes, but then comes back to him strong as ever once your hand twists and squeezes at the base of his cock, moving upward. Your tongue swirls over the sensitive head, your gaze flickers up to meet his own. And you have your eyes on his, tongue greedily flicking his flushed cockhead, warm soft stare the sweetest thing he's ever seen — and that's enough. You suck on the tip with a harsh, wet sound and he's melting, heat rushing his system all at once.

"I'm- I c-can't," He sounds pathetic, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-"

Pleasure buds and explodes in the pit of his stomach, you hum around him in approval, soft vibrations enough to burst that final bubble; Aki whimpers, chokes on air, and then he's throwing his head back, gasping hard. His Adam's apple bobs solid in his throat, his cock twitches and his hands shake. You hold your breath and sink down on him, warmth enveloping his length as he cums in your mouth.

The feeling hits you before the taste. Thick and warm, heady on your tongue, his dick throbbing steadily through his release. Your temple knots up in your efforts not to swallow. You grip his thighs and squeeze them tightly, admiring the cracks in his voice, the lilts of his moans. Desperate ah's and quiet swears strain his normally smooth tone into a weak, high-pitched mess. If he sounds this good when he cums for you, you aren't going to be able to stop here.

How much you've teased him shows in how much he has to give you, his cum quickly fills your mouth and forces you to pull back. Even once you do, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, it's still dribbling from his cock, such a mess. His dick is slippery and soaked from your saliva, his skin caked in sweat. Your head clears slowly, it gets easier to breathe. You watch Aki pant with a placid expression on his face, an expression you've never seen on him before, lips parted and his eyes barely open. His arms quiver slightly, trembling from the aftershocks.

His head spins, his heart pounds until it calms. His cheeks blister with warmth, his chest aches from the weight of his breaths. He reaches up, running a palm over his face, rubbing his eyes — his vision goes fuzzy, then returns after he blinks — and he pushes messy strands of hair away, tucking them behind his ears. When he glances down at you, you're already looking up at him. There's a slight smile on your face, captivating as ever.

Pretty, you're so pretty.

continue reading on ao3

hello! I'm sorry to have to cut the fic off here, but unfortunately tumblr won't allow the entirety of this chapter to be posted because it's so fucking long... if you like it so far and you want to read the rest pls consider hopping over to ao3... thank you 🫂

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa x you

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angelltheninth · 28 days

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Eijiro Kirishima is Tough on the Outside but Soft on the Inside

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationsip, gap-moe, kissing, teasing, power use

A/N: Season 7 is almost here!

Eijiro Kirishima is tough on the outside when the two of you are on a mission together. This can be literal as well when his power activates but more than that he wants to be an example and show bravery to the people he helps out. Also wants to be a source of safety for everyone around him.

Eijiro Kirishima is soft on the inside when you usher him into the infirmary and scold him for going in without a plan. That's why he went with you, he knows you'll always have his back no matter what. You're someone he can count on in any situation.

Eijiro Kirishima is tough on the outside when rumors of the two of you dating start to circle. You were dating at the time but it was more lowkey then it is right now. He really had enough with all the gossip one day and held your hand while walking down the hall, for everyone to see, a determined look on his face.

Eijiro Kirishima is soft on the inside when you share your first kiss. His face was almost the same red hue as his hair, hot to the touch as you cupped his cheek. Lips trembling, hands shaking on the small of your back as he pulled you ever closer, reluctant to let you go any time soon.

Eijiro Kirishima is tough on the outside when he steps up to defend you. He won't stand for anyone trash talking his girlfriend, in front of him or behind his back. At least when it's not behind his back he knows who to direct his anger towards, otherwise those people are just spineless cowards.

Eijiro Kirishima is soft on the inside when you compliment each other's accomplishments. Happy to get praise from you but also chuckles awkwardly when you and pretends to scratch his cheek in that cute way while avoiding eye contact. Should you lean in any closer to him when he's flustered he might kiss you in retaliation, so be careful.

Eijiro Kirishima is tough on the outside when he wants to cry he tries his best not to, not in front of everyone. The only one he is really comfortable around is you. He's working on opening up with all of his emotions a lot more, but for now you're the only one to see his tears flow freely.

Eijiro Kirishima is soft on the inside when he calls you the only girl in the world for him. Popularity with the other girls doesn't mean anything to him, you're the only girl who has his attention, his heart and his kisses. If you ever feel like he would leave you for someone else then please remember how much you mean to him.

Eijiro Kirishima is tough on the outside when you try to tease him in public. He does his very best not to show much of a reaction, but those who know him well can still see he's effected by your words and actions. Should he crack in public he knows it would only make you tease him more when you're alone.

Eijiro Kirishima is soft on the inside when he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you deeply. Only in the privacy of your rooms of course but he does crave this sort of intimacy too. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't show his girlfriend more affection in private?

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 4 months

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS - MORE ABOUT THE STARS

Hey! My name is Monet. I wanted to share some more insight on the signs and some house placements. I hope you all enjoy!

Taurus suns are incredible listeners. They are big on gift giving and creating safe and sensual spaces for their partners. However they due tend to argue a lot, its the bull headed energy they have. Its an Adrenaline rush. Be careful not to be around them while their hot tempered, you might get a kick from the bull. On the bright side, their sensual personas is a gift from the cosmos. They can turn this trait into a gold mine. They have the energy to entice you with their words, their bodies and even the way they express themselves.

Jupiter in Aquarius individuals have a complex understanding of the cosmos. It's not typically understood by the masses but I mean it is in aquarius! Jupiter here shows an expansion in knowledge be it whatever it is they put their fingers on. The Midas Touch. Even if the odds are against them, they still have a notoriety to their character that most never saw coming. They change the odds to work in their favor due to a shift in mindset. Good luck bestows them when they go into odd, original territory. You never know what you might find!

Jupiter 10th House individuals have an urgency to be successful, this can be a painful placement to have because while they may have big dreams their is a ton of practicality that comes in with this placement. This placement can be quite depressive when they aren't sure how their plans for the future can commence. They have to work hard to get to this dream however they must take into account that things don't always happen so quickly. Jupiter in this house shows a person with a magnetic persona, where people will feel the good energy on you and will latch on to it. It doesnt quite matter what this character is doing, they will always have a respectable aura to the masses. It is their gift.

Sun in the 11th shows a person who is popular with the masses, however it has its quirks. These are the internet famous geeks. The ones who turn the trends into their favor. Pioneers in the originality train. They normally just have to be themselves and people will be attracted to them. Angel dust is literally sprinkled on their character. For social media of course ;) jk. On another end, these people are quick to join different organizations and groups. However they feel at the moment, they usually take a chance in whatever is not the ordinary. 11th house is ruled by uranus/aquarius naturally, so the 11th house suns have a knack for creating and/or being in spaces where they can connect to people who are different from them.

Neptune 12th housers, whew boy. You guys have a gift in the subconscious that goes untapped by the rest of the world. Your gift in seeing things that arent there, can be used in creative/practical outlets. I'd argue that you could just paint or draw, but its much bigger than that. Sometimes thats not what you're subconscious is looking for. It requires you to seek it. This house placement goes on journeys through the psyche, and in the physical it shows itself in a number of ways. Whether through people, art, locations. Doesn't matter. There is one thing that is always certain, that the imagination has a mission. And that's to bring it to life.

These people are good at reading the world because they are constantly rejected and ocratized on being different. The 'crazy' one. But the one who is also the most talented in astrology, occult, the stars, and mysticism. It's a gift not everyone gets, but it's something work noting. They challenge you too see the beyond, and help others tap into themselves . The escapist, they have others who try to escape with them, but it doesnt last. Be gentle with them, they have a lot going on in their mind. They just want to share it with someone.

Venus in Leo has a royal aura. Their charm can wow others and can make them fall in love easily. Their gift is in works of art but for them i do sense singing would be a great one for them. They don't need to have the 'best' voice. Just the confidence to keep going. Their magnetism is strongest during artistic associations because leo gets a knack out of being in the spotlight.

Mercury in the 3rd House has a significant tone to their voice. Its odd but its very distinctive that people enjoy listening. These people can also have a knack in playing instruments. Jazz style locations works for them. This is so the mind can relax as they are consistently on the go. Researching kills any acts of boredom easily, as this is a necessity for the mind.

#astrology thoughts #astrology observations #astro observations #astro thoughts #astro knowledge #astrology #venus in leo #jupiter in aquarius #jupiter in the tenth #sun in the 11th #taurus suns #scorpio #astrology signs #vedic astrology #sidereal astrology #deja's astro observations

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errihaienx · 1 year

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HQ CAPTAINS : when someone tries to flirt with them ♡

(pre-timeskip , aged up characters)

quick disclaimer: these scenarios don't affect the original plot of the series. any information or events that contradict the original plot are purely fictional. (i do not own any of the characters)

warning: could be suggestive (Terushima's) and some inappropriate/cuss words

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ, ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ, ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ, ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ, ᴋɪᴛᴀ, ᴅᴀɪᴄʜɪ, & ᴛᴇʀᴜꜱʜɪᴍᴀ (ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ) ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟɪʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ

Doesn't really notice that someone is trying to flirt with him, or to be blunt he doesn't care.

But he will unknowingly embarrass the girl

"Eh? Why are you clinging your hands– Oh! Y/n is always like that to me omfg she's so cute."

Your name can be heard all the time, so the bitches won't stand a chance. Every person he sees and interacts with fails to grab his entire attention since all he can think about is his woman.

If a girl comes up to him he'll think of: "Woah that hairstyle doesn't look good on this girl, OMG DID I JUST IMAGINED MY BABY WITH THAT HAIR?! SHE'S SO DAMN FINE IM GOING NUTS" he'll be smiling and the girl might think that it was because of her :/

NO. JUST NO.

But okay, if someone will approach him he will walk out. But of course, if it's an important matter he will respond. And his response will be very dry

"I do not give my number so easily for Y/n's peace of mind, I shall take my leave."

Then he'll march his way to you, giving you a little smile acting like he didn't broke someone's heart just a minute ago.

He's a cute flirt only to you though

So girls be throwing themselves at him, but he doesn't give a fuck.

If someone will talk to him especially when it's a girl, openly showing their attraction towards him, he will converse with them and if they'd confess or ask him if he's available he will politely reject them.

"You always look hot Kuroo-san..."

"Thanks"

"How about we meet–"

"I am already deeply in love with someone. please excuse me."

He then turns around smirking, he's thinking of bragging it to you. He just wanna see your annoyed jealous face, he assures you that you're the only one for him.

Oh please the guy literally have fans

His supporters actually knows about his relationships, like every girl's name that he dated has their name and 'stats' on his fans' memos. The fans also concluded that his typical dating period with someone is 2-3 months.

He's very alluring, and he's also welcoming and so people think it's okay for them to flirt with him.

You had a couple of arguments with him about this matter. And because he doesn't want that, he will try his best to avoid them.

"Oikawa-san! My birthday is coming could you go out with me?"

"Ohoho, Happy birthday! But I don't want to sleep outside so.......I won't. You can have Iwa-chan right here-"

*/got punched by hajime

Despite of being straightforward, blunt, and gives off idgaf-with-your-feelings vibes he's still popular with girls

Even if the girl isn't done talking he'll leave immediately

He will simply tell them that he's in a relationship already, but that doesn't solve the situation. It ignites the girlies' desire to have him even more. He then eventually thought of a way on how he'll get rid of those kind of situations by involving one of the twins.

"You can ask me to be your date when Atsumu finally decided to leave volleyball alone."

"B-but Kita-san isn't that i-impossible?"

"That's the point."

The man is fine as fuck so the girlies love him

He will politely turn down them, you know. Your man is good 😌✨✨

"You are the karasuno's Captain, right? Oh my! The whole team's hot but of course the captain is way more-"

"Ah, no... Please spare me."

Some even visit his afternoon club practices just to interact with him, taking advantage of the fact that you are not in the same school as him.

This mf is a chick magnet

He has a habit of sticking out his tongue, and that's where his piercing prevails and with that girls flock around him.

He kinda likes the attention but of course, he's only yours. you two had arguments about this too but with terushima's personality you just gave up and told him that as long as the girls respect his boundaries as someone's man it is fine for you.

"OhmYgOsh tOnGuE pIerCiNg!?!? I bEt tHaT pIerCinG cOulD dO sO mUcH~ iT's sO cOoL!"

"I know right!?! I can make Y/n scream with just this!"

"Lucky Y/n!"

"No no no no! I'm the lucky one, heck I love her so much!!"

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delicatenerdbluebird · 4 months

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My Random Takes on The Secret History (contains spoilers)

The biggest tragedy that comes with being Richard Papen coded is you need a group like Julian's Greek class to feel normal about yourself because the rest of the world makes you feel like a misfit.

That Richard and Camilla scene where she reveals being physically abused by Charles... I feel that scene is a strong criticism of abusive households. Like Richard was used to seeing his mother getting beaten by his father and sometimes he was also a victim of his violence. And in 'that' scene, he fantasizes about doing the same to Camilla and worse. This shows it's a never-ending cycle no matter how you see it. The kids are gonna end up developing fucked up fantasies if their exposure to fucked up things is constant.

I strongly believe Henry was gonna make Richard the scapegoat had something gone sideways. And honestly, it makes perfect sense. Richard insisted on joining their class. He was an outsider. Henry could have easily made up something like Richard was envious of their group, he was jealous of his and Bunny's closeness and so he ended up killing him, something along those lines that Richard wanted to be accepted and we would not accept him instantly, naturally because of our prior history. Knowing how Henry was good with words, he could have made Richard an obsessive, disturbed freak to the FBI for all we know. Remember how Henry saved him from getting frozen to death? This incident can be perfectly used to portray him as a mentally disturbed person who would rather freeze to death than go back to his home to a normal eye.

Now Julian. Oh, Julian I knew was the red flag the moment it was mentioned he does not accept students who have different ideas than his. But to think that fucker would turn out to be the biggest crankiest bitch?!! I mean I am soo mad he was the one who fed those Dionysiac ideas to them and in the end, he just ran away?! I was baffled by how he treated Henry during that confession scene he did not even listen to him completely... Henry does not stutter HE WAS STUTTERING and Julian shoved the letter back to him... I mean the disrespect! This scene (for me at least) was a reality check that no matter how loving, cool, caring, and impactful you might think your teacher is, at the end of the day, they are gonna be a teacher and you are gonna be just a student. It destroyed my heart when Henry said he loved Julian more than his own father 😭 The worst thing you can do is take advantage of the vulnerabilities of someone who not only respects you but also loves you dearly. This mf can move mountains and I would still hate his old rat ass!

Charles and Camilla Idek what to make of them. Charles turned from a pitiable character to an entirely disgusting one for me. I accept Francis' theory that he wouldn't have made that much fuss about his interrogating situation if Camilla and Henry weren't a thing. Remember when Camilla and Henry had some secret code and he got mad why he didn't know about it? I do think camilla and henry were always a thing before it became apparent to everyone. Besides the book is from Richard's perspective, and he does seem oblivious at times.

I am not aware of the popular takes in the fandom so I don't know if this is gonna be a hot take or not but Camilla gave pick-me-girl vibes. She did not have any girl friends and looked down upon Judy (I am not asking them to be besties exactly but a little respect won't have killed) Judy only developed a weird impression about them during that party scene when Camilla dropped her drink onto her and did not apologize (or was it the opposite? i dont remember exactly but the point is Judy is not the type to judge others for no reason...she judged them after that party) Camilla's attitude could be attributed to the fact that Charles was controlling but idk

The Secret History reminded me of The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot (some of the verses below):

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats' feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

So basically I am yapping here because my friend hasn't finished tsh yet and I just needed to let it all out 😩

Not to mention I absolutely love my expensive gossip boy Francis 🥺 ☕

(Thank u for reading it this far!!)

#the secret history #poetry #francis abernathy #henry winter #camilla and charles #bunny corcoran #richard papen #Julian #donna tartt #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #dead poets society #dark aesthetic #academic validation #judy poovey #Marion #hampden

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strwberri-milk · 10 months

Note

Could I request Kaeya's s/o pampering him when he comes home one day, all exhausted? Man needs some R&R.

small spoon kaeya thank you

Despite popular belief, Kaeya does work incredibly hard. He's not someone who likes to half-ass anything he does, meaning he does have a tendency to overwork himself.

You always try to tell him to pace himself, but Kaeya has no idea how to. Instead, he'll just work himself into a dizzying frenzy to the point of just collapsing in bed. You try to make him a little more comfortable by stripping him down. It's a little hard to get him dressed again, so you just try to take away his accessories or anything that might get in the way of him sleeping.

Kaeya always tries to keep going far past his limits which made you take matters into your own hands. This time when he comes home you make him sit down at the dinner table, pulling out a meal that's hot for once. He already looks close to tears thanks to how exhausted he's been plus this show of affection but you tell him that there's more.

You gently coax him to take a bath after the meal, massaging his body as he soaks in the warm water. It does wonders for his sore muscles, feeling the stress of his day dissipating with every sweep of your palm. He makes soft noises of contentment, sighing happily as you help him dry off and get changed.

It's only when you finally manage to get him into bed (not without an incredible amount of kisses) that he finally tells you about what his day looked like. You listen to every word he says, practically hanging off every single one as you hold him close.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Kaeya says after a short rant about one of the new knights that was annoying him.

"For what? I was just treating you the way you deserve to be," you respond with a bit of a snort, pulling him closer to you and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"I know that's what you think but I really appreciate it. You...I haven't felt this loved for a long time. You never give me any room to doubt the space I take up in your heart."

"You take up all of it," you tease him, feeling the way he stiffens before relaxing even more.

"I love you so much," he mutters into the sheets before turning to face you. You can tell he's flustered by the way he's refusing to even look at you. His fingers dig into your hips almost roughly and you just laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you too. Now get some rest."

"If I didn't that would be a waste of all your efforts, wouldn't it?" he teases, pressing kisses lazily against your collar despite his "mean" words.

You're about to respond when you hear his breathing slow, chest moving rhythmically. You laugh to yourself before giving him another kiss and falling asleep with him in your arms, holding his face gently.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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elisespage · 12 days

Text

in which the world seems to be obsessed with how you and kylian spend dates together.

“i think this is the right colour,” you mumbled, holding the paint next to kylian’s shirt and examining them next to each other. “it doesn’t matter about the shirt as long as you make me look handsome.”

“carry on being so full of yourself and i’m turning you into quasimodo.”

he knew you were joking and he giggled, moving your hand away so you could carry on painting.

“seriously, it should be allowed to go in the louvre.”

“my painting skills might be excellent but are you really worthy enough to be hung in the louvre?” you wondered and kylian nodded. “uh, definitely.”

you carried on painting the t-shirt then grabbed the green for the shading of the trees behind him. “can you give me a strawberry?”

kylian held the strawberry up to your lips and smiled at you taking a bite, getting back into the groove of painting. one of the things he loved most about you was how you could make something so simple look so beautiful.

when you suggested having your next date in the local park, kylian wasn’t really sure considering how popular you two were but you soon talked him around and you brought paint and a picnic.

“what are we going to do with it though?”

“i don’t know, we can keep it. or donate it to the louvre,” you snickered, reminding him of how silly his idea was. “i think we keep it and show it to our great-grandchildren in the future so they know how handsome their papa was.”

it warmed your heart that kylian thought about your future together. he’d often talk about what he’d tell his kids and grandkids, and you’d blush at the thought of him thinking of being with you for that long.

“well let’s hope they don’t want a painting of me because you would actually make me look like quasimodo.”

“impossible.”

“are you sure we’re going the right way?”

kylian was holding his phone as high as he could to try and get a signal but nothing was happening. “i swear we’ve passed this tree six times. how much water do we have left?”

“barely any. it’s so hot as well,” kylian groaned, his t-shirt slung over his shoulder. “who’s bright idea was it to go hiking?”

“um, yours?” you sighed as kylian trailed behind you still trying to find a signal to no luck. “what if we turn around? surely we’re bound to find a house or something.”

the pair of you decided it was probably better to carry on and you might come across someone who could help and sure enough, a young girl and her dog came down the same path.

“excuse me, do you know the way back down? we got lost up here and can’t find a signal.”

she seemed to stand for a moment before her jaw dropped, seeming to understand that she was meeting you and kylian.

“hello? are you okay?”

“sorry, sorry. um, yes it’s this way.”

her dog jumped up onto you, his paws dirtying your shirt. “down, milo!” she ordered and he jumped off you, a smile etched on your face at how cute he was. “sorry about him, he usually doesn’t like other people.”

“it’s okay, cute dog by the way.”

the girl smiled at you and kylian, walking ahead of you two. she didn’t want to bother you both too much but she had thousands of questions she wished to ask.

“so, are you from paris or are you a tourist?” kylian asked, deciding to make small talk and the girl smiled as she responded, “i’m actually from spain but have been living here for the past two years.”

the three of you continued chatting about silly things like the weather and the best places to eat until you finally reached the end of the trail.

“thank you so much! seriously, we were starting to think of eating each other to survive.”

she giggled at you and said, “don’t worry about it. have a nice day.”

when she walked off, kylian passed you the car keys and wrapped his arm into yours. “shall we go get some food? i could kill for food right now.”

“lead the way, my favourite cannibal.”

the alcohol in your system was certainly kicking in now, and kylian’s words in your ear had turned into incoherent mumbling.

“what-what did you say?” you slurred, eyes trying to focus on his face but you couldn’t help but distract yourself by the bright lights above you.

had they always been that pretty?

“i said do you want a game of pool?”

you turned around to the pool table that was in the centre of the bar. when you were a kid, your brother had a pool table in his room but you never actually got to play.

“i don’t know how…”

“come on, cherié.”

kylian held his hand out and you stumbled getting off the chair but his arm around your waist held you steady as you both made your way to the table.

he sat you down on a chair whilst he set the game up, and you wondered where kylian learnt how to play pool. you reminded yourself to ask him after but knowing how drunk you were, you’d probably forget that you even played pool.

“okay, you can break,” kylian said, holding out the cue which he had made sure was okay enough for you. “kyks, i hate to say this but i can’t even see my hands let alone a few balls on-on the table.”

“fine, i’ll help you then.”

you broke the set of balls and watched as they scattered all over the table and luckily, you potted one of them. “see, now you go again.”

your hands started to shake a little as you tried to focus on the ball you wanted to pot but you soon calmed down when kylian leant over, touching the cue with you.

“you’ve got to try and get it at the right angle. see, if you hit this one then it will bounce off the other and into the net.”

and sure enough, when you did hit it at the right angle, it went into the net.

you cheered and turned around to face kylian, kissing him on the cheek. “you’re supposed to be playing against me baby,” you snorted, turning back around to take your next go.

kylian didn’t care much.

even if he lost, he’d always remember he was the one who taught you how to play properly.

for your twenty second birthday, kylian had booked the both of you a weekend trip to italy. it came as a great surprise and you were so excited on the plane there.

even more so when you landed.

the pair of you had decided to go out for dinner for the night and when walking back, the sun was setting nicely.

you’d picked up a great tan after the first day and the sun just felt different to the one in france. it felt nicer.

“thank you for this, kyks.”

his arm was looped between yours and he had a wide smile on his face. “it’s your birthday, cherié.”

you shrugged, “well yeah, but you could have took me out for dinner at home. you didn’t have to fly us out to italy.”

kylian stopped you both in your tracks, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he grabbed both of your hands and took them into his.

“listen, i love you, okay? and when people love each other they do things for each other. and i know you’ve been wanting to come to italy so it’s the perfect birthday gift.”

even though the sun had set, kylian was sure it was still there. your smile was so bright that he could practically live off it. if the sun suddenly disappeared one day, all he’d have to do was make you smile and everything would be okay again.

“i love you too. and thank you, again.”

laughter could be heard from across where you were and you looked over the railing down towards the beach. there was a group of kids kicking a ball around with each other, a heartwarming encounter that made your smile grow wider.

“kyks, look,” you pointed to the kids, the pair of you watching as they cheered when the ball went into their makeshift net. “he’s good, huh?”

you found it funny that the children didn’t have a clue that kylian was watching them and probably never would know.

his arm rested on your shoulder and he sighed softly whilst pulling you away. “come on, cherié.”

the car ride was spent in silence as kylian’s eyes stayed focused on the road ahead whilst you continued to bite your fingernails.

he didn’t know what was wrong with you today but it was starting to make him upset that you were.

all morning you’d been pacing around, only making small talk. when he picked you up from work, you refused to get coffee which was unusual, and now was silent.

kylian tried to think of the right thing to say but nothing was coming to mind.

“if there’s something wrong, you should tell me. maybe i can help.”

you felt sick all of a sudden and you unbuckled the seatbelt. “please, stop the car!”

“we’re in the middle of the road, i can’t-”

“just stop it!”

he pulled up and was confused when you opened the car door making a swift exit and down the steps towards the sands of the beach down below.

several cars honked the horns and kylian wondered if he was even allowed to stop here but he didn’t care; he needed to know what was wrong with you. he followed behind you quickly, stopping when you practically collapsed onto the sand and started crying.

“y/n, cherié, please tell me what’s wrong.”

the beach was practically empty. the only people on it were two teenagers with their backs to you and an old couple a couple of yards away.

“i-i can’t. you won’t be able to look at me the same way.”

every bad thought possible began filling kylian’s head and he wondered what could possibly upset you so much. “whatever it is, i’ll still love you.”

water had always calmed you down.

as a kid, if someone had picked on you or you had a fight with your siblings, you’d always find yourself at the beach. you’d build sandcastles and dip your toes into the water, collecting seashells until it was time to go home.

it only made sense that you were here right now.

slowly, you turned your head to face him and then your full body was facing him. he looked down at you waiting patiently for the words to come out your mouth. but it was like you were stuck. thinking of the various things that could happen.

but as kylian’s eyes were wide and his smile was soft, you felt safe.

“i’m pregnant.”

it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, a feeling he’d only felt a couple of times, all after being delivered big news. “you’re what?”

“pregnant. i’m pregnant, okay?”

you tried to search in his eyes to see what he was thinking but he just seemed shocked. not in the bad way though. he was more shocked at the fact you were crying.

“but i thought you wanted kids, cherié?”

you turned back around to face the ocean again, mind full of thoughts that you’d be a terrible mother. “i do. but-but i’m scared, kyks. what if i’m not good enough?”

his arms snaked around your waist and his chin rested in the crook of your neck. “you’re more than good enough. i’ve seen the way you are with kids. anyone would be lucky to have you as their mother. and i’d be the happiest man alive to have a kid with you.”

#kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian fanfic #football imagine #football x reader #football #elisewrites

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the-kipsabian · 4 months

Text

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

#wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #i hope this make some sort of coherent sense #despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao #i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first #just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling #with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again #supporting each other. we can do this together #dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this #just be nice and help each other out #im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here #again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me #this is about the community as a whole #i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what #just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people #okay thats it i need to make dinner now #lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main

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wishmaster · 11 months

Text

Body Swap 72 - Taken Down A Notch

Todd Bass was an 18 year old high school wrestling star, he was also the only son of a wealthy business mogul and usually got his way.

He had gotten away with many things in his life simply because he was the only boy in a family full of women and his father planned on leaving the company to him no matter how irresponsible he was which angered hi older sisters. So on his 18th birthday the offered him a chance to live as who ever he wished for 72 hours by granting him a session in the Body Swap 72 program. He told his sisters he didn't care who he swapped with as long as they were old enough to drink and party. He really should have cared.

Martin Reyes was a 30 something down on his luck male dancer, he didn't have the best life growing up and fell in with the wrong crowd, he spent most of his adult life creating the perfect body for himself and selling it for sex to make ends meet. At this point in his life he'd do anything to make extra cash and get a head. So he signed up for the body swap 72 program. Imagine his glee and surprise when he found out he'd be spending three days as a sexy rich white boy.

When the swap happened, Todd was shocked to find himself in such an inked up body. Not only was the guy covered in tats and wearing leather, his new body was extremely horny.

try as he might to releave himself, masturbating to women in his new ripped body wasn't cutting it, in fact Todd found his new body was more attracted to the guys in the porn now. fearing the worst he headed out to a club where his new body was quite popular, hot guys eyed him up. He had never fucked a guy before or been fucked, but for the next 3 days his ne "older" ass would experience the best sex he had ever dreamed of.

Meanwhile Martin was having fun being in a young virel body like Todds, captain of the wrestling team was a bonus as Martin got to feel up fresh meat in his new skin.

Upon arriving in his temporary body he was approached by Todd's sisters and offered a ton of money if he'd just take Todd down a darker path in life. Which for the amount of money they were offering he'd leave the kid brain dead if they wanted. They came up with a fitting punishment for the golden son.

When the swap was over young Todd would be in for a shock as he woke up in his old body, but there were changes, he neverexpected.

What the fuck, he said as he stared at himself in a full length mirror.

He was covered in tats, he know needed glasses to see and he was now the biggest cock sucker on campus. Seems during a match he sucked off his opponent right on the mat. in fact he became so good at fucking and sucking in public that he'd been kicked out of school and his father disappointed and sickened by what his son was becoming kicked him out of the house, he sent him to live with his gay brother in New York. Who instead of discouraging him from leading his new life was helping him embrace and Todd was well on his way to becoming the greatest exotic dancer at his uncles gay night club.

All the while his sisters took their rightful place at the top of the family business.

As for Martin he took the millions he earned at left.

Legend says he bought a motorcycle and is driving across the country enjoying his freedom. Something young Todd wouldn't know thanks to the hole he dug for him he'd spend years digging out from. Thankfully when they switched bodies Martin kept his sorcerer abilities or there would have been no way he could have done all that to Todd in 72 hours. Just goes to show in this age of Body Swaps you should know who your swapping with.

#body transformation #male transformation #revenge transformation

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galactiquest · 8 months

Note

Feral for affection uncanny vash or knives.

🌻have a good day

Hi there Sunflower Anon! I'm going to call you that, especially if you come back again with another sunflower. Thanks for the ask!!

I've seen the uncanny Vash and Knives stuff blow up in popularity. I Was there. Though sometimes I feel it's disingenuous to call them uncanny--that's our human interpretation of their forms. Maybe something more along the lines of primal? Well, syntax aside, I think it's a super fun idea to lean more into the alien ideals of Plants. I have plenty of my own headcanons for how the two look and operate, but, let's not focus on that right now. Let's just get affectionate!

Vash and Knives x Reader: Affections (Uncanny ver.)

Content Warnings: General uncanny or possibly unnerving content ahead. Features like multiple eyes/limbs/etc. are discussed, and there may be an implicit body horror to it. No violence, though! Just cuteness aside from all that!

Vash

I think Vash is pretty hesitant at first to show you any sort of uncanny parts of himself. I mean, we already know how he feels about his scars--he really doesn't want to scare you off, especially once you two have become close.

But if you can slowly and gently coax him out of his shell, if you can convince him that yes, you'll love every part of him, no matter how ugly he may think those parts are, he'll eventually relent.

And at first, it's just a few features that pop out. It might be reflective, glowy eyes in the nighttime, or fingers that have grown out just a little too long for the average man, or even a few spiny scutes along his back.

Once he's comfortable, though? He lets it all hang out. Not like that--he just allows his true form to come through. And there's lots of limbs and even some sharp edges to deal with... But if you're patient, you'll find he's maybe even more affectionate like this!

Cuddles end up the best because now instead of two (sometimes one, if he has the prosthetic off) arms around you, it's six (more like five!) and you are ever-so-tightly squeezed against his body. He also has a very comfortable temperature, so you never have to worry about being too hot or too cold. It's just right!

Purring. Yes, I know it's cliché, I know that it's mentioned in every imagine, but come on. It's so cute. I don't think it's like animal purring, though, maybe more like an engine. Or perhaps more akin to a larger cat purring. Less cutesy, more... well, rumbly. Sometimes it makes his whole body vibrate.

With his extra appendages, he loves to tickle you. Prepare to be bombarded with tickles. He's able to dance across your skin so fast that you can barely catch him in time to try and swat him away.

Kisses! He tries to be so careful with kisses since his jaw can unhinge and all that. And lots of teeth get in the way. But if you don't mind that... Or perhaps, if you're into that... Well, you can definitely start experimenting. But he's still as gentle as possible.

Knives

Now this is someone who's not afraid to show you their true self. Knives is going to quickly reveal his primal form to you. If you can't learn to get comfortable with it, he's obviously not for you. (It begs the question as to why he keeps a more humanoid form too--maybe it's just easier to get around in human-sized spaces with?)

No matter your initial reaction, I think he's going to make some kind of comment. You get scared? Typical human. You like it? Disgusting. You act as utterly neutral as possible? Don't lie to yourself. There's seriously no winning with him.

But with whatever charm (or perhaps sheer persistence) you give, the two of you are a pair now. And if there's one word to describe how he acts with you? It's protective.

If you two are ever out and about, he's got a sharp, bright wing curled over and around you, shielding from peering eyes. On the outside, it's all points and blades (and knives?) but on the inside, only for you to see, there's some softer, more downy feathers. Just so you won't rust up the blades, whatever you say, Knives.

His conscious self isn't keen to showing affection, but his subconscious body sure is. Expect a few tingly vines trying to wrap around and hold your hand, or a tail-like appendage that rests on your waist/shoulders, or a wing tickling your cheek. He swears he isn't doing it intentionally.

Unlike his brother, he's not a super affectionate guy, as stated above, so don't expect much in the way of kisses. Unless the two of you are alone, and he's in a better-than-usual mood. Then his cravings might get the better of him, and he might just tackle on top of you to bite a chunk out of you--I mean, get a few sloppy kisses in.

Overall? In front of others, relatively distant. Behind closed doors? You're becoming his. Tight tendrils keep you close at night, teeth nibble at the nape of your neck, the sharp edges of leaves or feathers tease your skin but never come too close. He's too precise to actually ever hurt you.

End Notes: I think their "true" forms are something akin to an insectoid/angelic/plant-like mix, where it's sort of indescribable, archaic, tangled and messy. Maybe I ought to draw them and show you all...~

Also, there REALLY need to be more 1998 Knives gifs, or I'm about to pony up and just make a buttload of my own.

Okay, last note. Sorry this took me a while! I just moved back into college and my first week was busy! (^人^)

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #knives x reader #millions knives x reader #trigun x reader #galactifics #love mail #Anonymous #🌻 anon #look at that you even get your own tag so if you come back you can send me more!!!

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whatifwekissedatneocity · 6 months

Text

call me maybe

next door neighbour nakahara chuuya x reader. reader is gn (gender neutral). neighbour au

about: chuuya moved into your city for his three months long mission and chose to settle in the vacant apartment beside yours.

kiel notes: i wrote this with what it’d be like to have chuuya as a neighbour hcs in mind. might do a continuation 😉

the moving truck pulls up outside your house, and you take a peek. is it a new neighbour? it had been months since someone occupied the vacant apartment beside yours. you were curious to see who moved in, and, lord, you have never laid your eyes on such a handsome man before. your new neighbour had ginger hair, which was covered by his porkpie hat. he was a little short, though, but it didn’t matter. he wore a suit, and you thought he might be a salaryman or someone rich. why would someone rich move into your humble neighbourhood? your curiosity peaked.

fast forward to the next few weeks, and you notice some things about your neighbour.

his name was nakahara chuuya. you introduced yourself after you showed up at his door with food as a welcome gift. he only gave his name with a small nod before closing his door. nakahara chuuya.. that’s a pretty name, you thought. a pretty name for a pretty boy.

chuuya does light workouts in his room, which you (un)fortunately see all the time. his room is directly across your window. you didn’t mean to stare, but maybe god granted you a chance to peek. after cramming an essay, you stretched your arms out, exhaling a sigh. in your peripheral vision, you could see chuuya working those weights with a black compression shirt that hugged his toned biceps. heat rose to your cheeks when you realised you looked a little longer than you intended. it felt wrong to stare—so wrong that you had to close your blinds.

chuuya blasts rock music during his workouts. you never knew he was one to jam out to mötley crüe and visual kei, but now you know because it happens so often. so often that it’s getting a little unbearable, and you might have to show up at his doorstep (to tell him to lower the volume). maybe this would give you a chance to know more about him, because you’re not one to make a police report about noise pollution, he’s pushing the limits. you’re so close to hurling your headphones across the window for him.

chuuya is surprisingly popular with the elderly in your neighbourhood. you saw him carrying grocery bags for the old widow, who lives two houses down the block. the next day, he was playing chess with the old man who lives beside his apartment. and the day after, he was helping another old lady’s community garden. soon, the elderly all flock towards him, chatting away and giving him a pat on the shoulder. he makes good son-in-law material, it seems. how did someone so sweet move in next to you?

also, the amount of time you've seen chuuya shirtless through the window is more than you’d like to admit. it was always after his workouts that he came back into his room with only sweatpants on and a towel around his neck. his slightly toned body was on full display. he looked lean on the outside— but shirtless? the definition of sleeper build.

“the fuck..” you cursed under your breath, and your cheeks grew hot with shame. as much as this guilty pleasure of accidentally peeking into his window haunts you, you would risk your life to do a double take. after all, having nakahara chuuya move in next to you, who wouldn’t go batshit insane?

you still don’t know much about chuuya though. you’ve talked to him a few times and seen him a few times at the supermarket at godly hours; that’s about it. you know he worked late often, from the way his house is always dark until his room window lights up at midnight on certain days.

tonight, you decided to confront him about the noise pollution by sticking a post-it note on your window. it wrote, “lower down your volume plz. update me if you have already at 127-XXXXX.”

you only hope that he sees the post-it with your number on it when he opens his blinds the next day.

#kiel serves.. 🍮#NEIGHBOUR CHUUYA IM KICKING MY FEET #chuuya is sooo freaking hot ong #bsd #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd fluff

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cxsmicbaby · 10 months

Text

devour - 4

CHAPTER FOUR OF A SERIES

chapter 01 ; chapter 02 ; chapter 03

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : filthy smut. like. yeah. this chapter is basically just smut with an intro. enjoy!

word count : 6k (lol)

a/n : this chapter is definitely long!!! might be the final chapter, but i’m debating writing another... let me know if you think it’s good to end here!

miguel thought you leaving would get rid of his feelings, but it only made things worse. he comes to you and tries to make it right.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

Contrary to popular belief, Miguel is not actually against having a good time. Once in a while, at least. Sure, he’ll grumble and pretend like he doesn’t want to go whenever Peter B. drags him over to his universe for the night, but in reality it’s his favorite part of the month. They sit on Peter’s couch and drink whiskey, talking, telling stories, even laughing. It’s a part of Miguel that not many are allowed to see.

Peter makes him comfortable, relaxed, states of being that are foreign to him. Miguel could say just about anything to him and it’d roll off his back, like water on oil. And that makes him think of you, and how you remind him of Peter in some ways. But then he thinks about the things he’s said to you, about how he dug deep enough to make his words actually puncture, and he feels a heavy weight resting on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Peter interjects, cutting through the thick fog that surrounds him as he is unable to think of anything but you. “You okay?”

At first, Miguel was relieved that you’d gone, because in your absence he was able to focus, to get things done, to quiet the whispers of the others who had noticed his... favoritism. But then one evening, he lied down and realized he was very, very hungry. He remembered that on some days, the only thing he could find time to eat were the empanadas you delivered him, and now that you were gone, he was spending the day working on an empty stomach. From there it spiraled and Miguel was now able to focus even less than he had been when you were around. Not to mention, Hobie had refused to participate in anything until you returned, which he had expected. It was really the least of his worries, but Jess seemed very annoyed by it. He’d have to take care of that, too.

Miguel has to take care of a lot of things, he thinks, as he finishes the last droplets of whiskey in his glass. He sighs heavily and places it on the coaster he insisted to use; Peter didn’t seem to care about stains on the wooden table, but Miguel knew Mary Jane would. Just because she wasn’t here at the moment didn’t mean he wouldn’t still respect her wishes.

“I’m fine,” he finally says, though he knows his voice is not at all convincing. He doesn’t want Peter to ask about it, but deep down he does want to talk. Talk about you, and the concerning amount that he seemed to miss you.

Peter scoffs. “Man, come on. Everyone knows you’re upset about what happened.”

Miguel feels his blood running a little hot with the alcohol in his system, and instead of glaring at his friend and coming up with something that will shut this down, he only purses his lips. “It’s what was best for everyone.”

An odd sort of glimmer shows in Peter’s eyes before it’s gone, just as soon as it appeared. “For everyone? So, that includes you, and her, right?”

He’s got him there. Miguel almost laughs.

“I...” he trails off, unsure how to really continue without sounding stupid or too vulnerable. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No? So, you’ve been doing fine without her around, then. Getting lots done, I hope.”

Usually, Miguel would find himself annoyed by Peter’s sarcasm, but this time he actually manages a small smile, before he shakes his head. “Yes, actually. Well, I was.”

Peter pours himself another drink, and Miguel nods toward his glass to tell him that he would definitely like one as well.

“Until...?”

The brown liquid fills the space around the ice cubes and Miguel reaches for it, taking a sip large enough that anyone normal would be plastered right now. But Miguel’s always had a high tolerance, and that on top of the Spider-man enhancements makes it difficult for him to get even a little drunk.

“Until... I don’t know. But now I can’t stop... thinking about her. It’s making me furious.” The confession hangs in the air for a moment as Miguel stares at the drink, sloshing it around gently to alleviate some of the tension. Peter chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“You know, it would be easy enough to visit her. Just to see how she’s doing.”

Miguel’s eyes shoot up to meet Peter’s and he almost slaps him across the face. He has been thinking of that option, knowing it’s a bad idea, knowing he would be better off just leaving you alone. But now the possibility is out in the air and Miguel knows that no matter what is said or done in the next hour, even if he promises himself he will not, he is going to see you.

“Mm. Just to see how she’s doing,” Miguel repeats, taking a sip. He looks at Peter over the rim of the glass to see he’s got a smug smile on his face. Typical.

The house is a little chilly. Peter seems not to care about his electricity bill, he’s always got the air conditioner running. Miguel is fidgeting in his seat a little as he listens to his friend, because now the idea has burrowed into his head and he can’t think of anything else. He wonders what you’re doing right now. Are you happy? How angry are you with him? How hurt?

When the clock hits midnight Miguel has left Peter’s house and gone home. He sets an alarm for tomorrow, knowing that if he wants to see you he must do it early enough that no one questions his absence. The alcohol lulls him to sleep, and again, he dreams of you.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

The sanctum has everything except good lighting. On a good day, the sun shines brightly through the stained glass windows and the entire place is washed in color. It’s like living in a painting.

Since I’ve come home, it’s been raining nonstop. So, today is a bad day, and on a bad day entering the sanctum feels like entering an abandoned castle. It’s dark and grey, and all the artifacts and portraits of sorcerer’s past are watching me. When I walk, my footsteps echo, and since the soles of my shoes are wet with rain they squeak against the polished wooden floor.

“Hello?” I call, knowing Strange is here somewhere, probably waiting for the moment to make his dramatic entrance. You know, slowly descend from above with his stupid cape floating behind him. Or maybe he’ll step out of a portal right in front of me. One time he just went for the easy route, sneaking up behind me fast enough that my spidey-sense didn’t catch him. Prick.

That’s funny. No response, which means he’s either actually left to do god knows what, or he’s just ignoring me. It’s taken me a week to actually make myself come see him, so maybe he’s forgotten all about his letter. Oh well. If Strange is giving me a free out, I’ll take it.

Before I can turn on my heels, though, the hairs stand up on my neck. Someone is here, and it’s not Strange, unless he’s decided to be extra dedicated to his theatric arrival. No, it’s not him. It’s something that feels sinister, darker, and immediately I think of the worst. Has someone infiltrated the sanctum? Is Stephen okay? Any thoughts regarding the day I’ve had are replaced by the mantra I always repeat to myself in these situations; If I can help, I will. I have to.

I keep still, only moving my head to look in both directions for anything I might’ve missed. Any sign of forced entry, of a struggle; but I find nothing. When the sense of dread doesn’t get any worse, I shoot a web at the wall upstairs and land stealthily, trying not to make my shoes squeak.

The feeling grows more palpable. Someone is definitely here, and they’re close by. They might even be watching me. I ready myself, my fists itching to move at my sides—they ache with a reminder of a particularly tough fight I got into earlier today with a thief who just wouldn’t give up. Usually, petty criminals are a cakewalk, but this guy must’ve studied karate or something. I went a little harder on him than I should’ve, but with all the pent up emotion it’s difficult to reign myself back in. I’m sure a video will go viral later of me absolutely beating on the poor guy, but I’m also sure that I couldn’t care less.

I wait silently, trying to remain perfectly still, staring down the hallway that leads to Strange’s office. And then I feel it, suddenly; my blood freezes for a moment and before I can see what or who is rapidly approaching me from behind, I whip around, swinging hard.

My fist collides with skin, and a resounding smack echoes through the sanctum as I instinctively take a few steps back from my assailant. They stumble backwards, but not as much as a punch of that magnitude really should’ve sent them. And then I’m able to focus and I recognize that suit, and that hair, and that god awful angry sound that he always growls when he’s been hit.

“...Miguel?” I say, quietly, unsure that I’m seeing correctly. I wait for him to move at me, to wrap me in his webs and yell at me so long my ears bleed, but he does nothing but stare. The dull light coming from the windows shadows his face, making him look scarier than he really is. I am not scared of Miguel O’hara, and I’m not really angry, either. Seeing him does little more than make my chest ache and my feet twitch to run, and I almost do, before he finally opens his mouth.

“Your friend doesn’t have great security.”

It’s probably supposed to sound ominous, but it comes out a little timid, like he’s nervous. I’m not sure what’s happening here but I want it to be over.

“What the hell did you do to Strange?” I ask, regaining my composure a little, filling the space between us ever so slightly. Miguel takes a deep breath and it almost looks like he’s rolling his eyes.

“He wasn’t here when I arrived. I would’ve been interested in talking to him.” He’s smug when he says that, and I think to myself, what could he possibly be smug about, when he’s showing up and talking to me like he didn’t rip me to shreds the last time I saw him.

I glare at him, my hands shaking a little, in anger, in something else. “Miguel, I would appreciate it if you just left me the fuck alone.”

The frustrating gleam in Miguel’s eyes seems to disappear, and all that’s left are the red pools that sit in his eyes, which narrow at me as he moves closer. And I’m mad, mad at him, but mostly myself, because when he stares me down like that the urge to run and the urge to let him devour me begin to wage war.

“Listen to me,” he says, and though his face is hard, his voice is satiny, breathless. “This has gone on too long.”

I blink back at him, noticing that he is just as close to me as he was before, noticing that the same tension is there, only this time it feels like I’m choking on it.

“You told me to leave,” I finally say, sounding more miserable than I would’ve liked. His eyebrows furrow slightly at that, and my heart pounds a little harder, my fingers tingling, the hair standing up on my neck.

“I didn’t.” Miguel’s voice is steady, and just loud enough for me to hear, so there are no echoes. It creates a strange sense of intimacy, like it’s only for me. My breath hitches and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Well,” I start, feeling suppressed emotions from the past week struggling to resurface, “you told me that it wouldn’t matter if I did. Why would I stay if I don’t matter?”

I know my eyes are glossing over, I know my voice is watery. I’m embarrassed to look this way in front of him, and I inhale shakily, shaking my head to rid myself of that aching in my throat. My nails make crescent markings in the palms of my hands but I force myself to keep looking at him, though it only makes everything feel worse.

A puff of air escapes Miguel and his mouth parts just the slightest bit. I feel it on my lips. His breath is warm and smells like mint and a little bit of coffee.

“I didn’t... mean that.” His eyes go a little wide, only a little, but I see it. “It does matter if you leave.”

I furrow my eyebrows, and my heart is going so fast that I can feel it in my fingers. The sound of it surrounds me and is only overpowered by the sound of Miguel’s voice.

“I can’t stand to be around you, I can’t stand how you talk, and how you act, and your stupid fucking jokes.” I feel like my heart is breaking, and I try to move away, but suddenly Miguel is clutching both of my arms in his hands and he has a frantic look in his eye, something that almost scares me but not quite.

“Because every time you open your mouth, or you smile, or god forbid you fucking laugh, it makes me want to... to keep you. To get close to you. To know you.” His grip tightens on my arms and I feel like I might not be able to stand up if he wasn’t practically holding me. “The ways I think about you... they’re not right. It’s not like me. And if you leave, I can get rid of all that.”

Miguel’s breaths are heavy, his nostrils flaring slightly with each inhale. His eyes are a little wild and they bore into mine with such intensity I think that if I look away I might explode. His hands burn into my skin and I shiver. I’m convinced that this is not real, it must be an illusion Strange made to mock me for his own amusement. That would be low, even for him, but it’s still within his realm of asshole-ry.

“—I thought it would work, but it didn’t. It’s like a virus, you’re infecting me, and... and I don’t know what to do.” Miguel’s nostrils are flaring and his eyes are darting across my face, searching for something, maybe answers, I don’t know. The lack of distance between us is really all I can focus on; that, and the way I can feel my cheeks flushing, my lips parting, and the anger and the desire and everything inside me is threatening to bubble up.

“Miguel,” I finally say, and it comes out quiet, soft. I don’t know what I plan to continue with but I know I need to say something. I see his Adams’ apple bob as he swallows hard, and suddenly his hands are on the small of my back and he’s pulling me toward him, impossibly closer. Our noses bump and his lips ghost over mine; each exhale tickles my skin. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, overwhelmed, intrigued, waiting for him to speak.

“You have to—” he pauses, clearing his throat. “You have to tell me it’s okay or I can’t—I can’t let myself.”

My hands find their way to his shoulders, snaking up and lacing with one another behind his neck. There’s only a little bit of skin exposed, as he’s wearing his suit, but when I touch it it’s hot and I can almost feel his bones vibrating with anticipation underneath. I feel as though if he moves he will swallow me whole. I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Miguel,” I repeat, this time a little breathier. He inhales sharply, and his fingers dig into my waist. I press my palm against the nape of his neck and slide it to his cheek, feeling the scars and bruises of the past, the dull point of his cheekbones, his clenched jaw. I smile softly and I look into his eyes.

“You are such a dick.”

I don’t know why I think that’s the right thing to say, but it feels like it is, because Miguel stares down at me for just a second more before his lips capture mine. The kiss is searing, burning me down to the bone, making me stumble back slightly with the force of it. He walks me into the wall and holds me there, with his hands, with his mouth, with the sheer weight of his body pressing against mine. And though I’ve thought of this so many times I can’t even recall the number, I never thought of it like this. Gentle and caring and so passionate it makes me feel almost a little sad.

When I pull away, his mouth chases me. I take in his expression and I almost moan at the sight; his lips a little puffy, his eyes slightly wide, his cheeks pink. I have never seen him like this before. The idea that it’s me that is reducing him to this desperate sort of mess makes me swallow hard.

“Can I?” he asks, like he didn’t kiss me just a few seconds before. His voice is quiet and rough and it sounds like he’s restraining himself. One of his hands has slipped underneath the bottom of my shirt and his thumb is moving in slow circles on my skin. The act makes my chest swell a little and I just nod, unable to really say anything.

He kisses me again, but this time it’s more similar to the way I imagined it. His fangs sink into the flesh of my bottom lip and I squeak, earning a soft groan from him as his tongue slips into my mouth. My fingers glide into his hair and I tug; the noise that escapes him makes my head swim.

When Miguel presses his body against me, I think about how the spider suits are too thin, because I can feel the outline of his cock against my thigh and I almost gasp. He’s big. And he’s so hard I’m sure it must be painful. Without thinking, my hand slithers down between us and I palm him gently, waiting for him to suddenly pull away and start yelling about how ridiculous this all is.

But he doesn’t. He moans, and I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or if it’s real, but I swear to god I hear him whisper my name against my lips.

“Miguel,” I say, the sensations around me making it difficult to focus, “we can’t do this here. What if he comes back?”

Miguel ignores me and starts lying open-mouthed kisses against the corner of my lips, moving down to my jaw, and then my neck, and I forget for a second about where I am. He bites me, his fangs scraping sharp against my skin. My back arches just the slightest bit, causing my hand to brush against his clothed cock once again. He exhales hard and the vibrations rumble through me.

“Miguel,” I try again, but it only seems to spur him on, sucking bruises on the skin of my collarbones now as he keeps moving down. Both of his hands are now resting tight on my ribcage, scrunching my shirt up to reveal my stomach. The cold air on my skin makes me shiver.

“Let him see. I don’t care,” Miguel mutters, and he pauses for a second. And then he kneels in front of me and I think I might explode.

Miguel O’Hara is staring up at me, his hands massaging the skin just below my breasts, his chin resting against my pelvis, his eyes lidded and glossed over with lust. Miguel O’Hara, the person who has never once smiled at me, who tells me I’m a nuisance and a distraction, is on his knees, practically begging for me. I reach out to touch him and notice that a small bruise is forming in the place where I must’ve punched him. It only adds to his beauty, and I cradle his cheek gently. A uncomfortable, confusing feeling fills my stomach when Miguel leans into my touch.

“Does it hurt?” My voice is uncharacteristically tender. He shakes his head. The guilt must stay in my eyes for a moment too long, because he raises his head and kisses my stomach, his thumbs beginning to move in circles again.

“Don’t worry. You can make it up to me.”

°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°

Miguel’s always known he was the possessive type. Obsessive might be a better word for it, but it sounds too harsh, so he’d rather stick with the former. He’s always been jealous and competitive, unable to relinquish control over the things closest to him. It usually drives a wedge between himself and whatever it is he desires to be in charge of, which sort of defeats the purpose.

But you? You seem to like it. How could you not, when his desire to make you his has him buried between your thighs, lapping at your weeping cunt like he’ll die if he stops. His dreams are nothing compared to this; to the warmth of your thighs pressing against his cheeks as you hold his face there, to the gentle tug of your fingers wrapped around his locks every time his nose nudges your clit. And the way you sound, god, there was no way he could have possibly known how quickly you got loud, and desperate, and sinful. He thinks to himself that maybe this was not the best idea, because if he hoped before that it would aid him in forgetting about you, he was sorely mistaken.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your legs trembling. Your voice echoes through the room and Miguel wonders if this doctor has any cameras in his home. You don’t seem to be worried about it, but who knows, maybe that’s something you like. The idea of you enjoying being watched by someone else drives him to push harder. He doesn’t like the thought of you letting another man see you this way. He knows it’s selfish, but god if he doesn’t want to ruin you for anyone else.

“Miguelmiguelmiguel, please, please,” you babble, like you don’t know how to say anything else. He’s been at it for almost 20 minutes now, because he promised himself he would take his time with you, and he won’t let up on that. He knows you need to cum but he just can’t let you, not when you sound so pretty begging.

“I know, I know,” he manages, slipping a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you. His knees are beginning to ache, but he barely feels it. Your stomach and chest are heaving as you try to calm yourself down, your lip pulled taut between your teeth. “You’re doing so good for me, princesa. Taste like heaven.”

You fucking pout at that, grinding yourself against his hand. Miguel growls a little and his breath goes shaky.

“Please, please,” you beg, your eyes squeezed shut, your mouth hanging open. “I can’t—I need—”

He shushes you. “Be patient. I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

Your grip on his hair tightens and Miguel feels his cock throb in his suit. He looks down and can see a stain where he must be leaking, and suddenly that throbbing spreads through his entire figure and he realizes he can’t wait anymore.

Miguel quickly takes his finger out of you and stands; he doesn’t get a second to breath before you’re lunging at him, one leg hooked around his hip, your hands practically clawing at his suit, saying takethisoff. Your bottom lip is raw from your gnawing, and he can’t help it when he bites it, this time hard enough to draw blood. When the coppery taste invades his mouth he’s a little ashamed at the noise he makes, but that goes away once he hears how much you liked it.

“I need you,” you say, and your skin is sheening a little with a light layer of sweat. Miguel doesn’t think he’s heard anything more beautiful in his life. Your eyes bear into his, clouded and sparkling. “Miguel, please.”

One of your hand moves to hold his clothed cock and he feels himself losing it.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes, and he reaches behind his neck to press the button that rids him of his suit. Immediately, it's sucked up into the mechanism and he’s suddenly only in his boxers, but it’s the last thing he’s worried about. The words leave his mouth before he can even think about filtering them. “Want me to split you open, huh?”

You press against him and Miguel can feel your nipples through your shirt, pebbled and aching. His hand move to palm your tits and you keen into his touch; when he exhales Miguel sounds like a starving animal.

“Yes,” you reach for his bare chest and your nails rake down, to his abs, which quiver under your touch. “Yes, please, Miguel.”

Miguel loses all sense for a second, unable to move, and in that second your fingers are tugging his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. He hisses at the exposure, feeling himself hard against his stomach, his tip bright red and leaking an almost concerning amount of pre-cum. Your hand wraps around him and he thrusts into your grip, clutching your arm as his eyes flutter shut, and his mouth hangs open.

He was right; your fingertips barely touch, unable to wrap fully around his girth. He looks up at you and sees worry cross your pretty face momentarily. He wants to reassure you that there is nothing you have to do; despite the restraint he is lacking right now, he would never force you into anything. But then you swallow and your hand starts to move up to his tip, running your thumb over his slit so slow it hurts.

“You’re... god, you’re fucking huge, Miguel. How has anyone ever fit that inside them?” You manage a smile and a huff that’s meant to be laughter, even though he’s naked in front of you and his face is covered in your slick, and you’re in someone else’s house, and he’s technically your boss. Some of Miguel’s desire is overshadowed by that ache in his chest, and he smiles back.

“I can go slow if you think you can’t take it,” he teases, his hands moving up and down slowly across your exposed stomach. You shiver under his touch and finally reach up to lift your shirt off, showing him that you’re not wearing a bra. You have the most beautiful body he’s ever seen and he wants to worship you, but he’s not sure he has the willpower to wait any longer. Maybe next time.

You squeeze his cock tight, and he hisses. “Is that a challenge?”

Miguel slots his mouth against yours and kisses you hard, pushing your head back into the wall. You lose your grip on him and instead place your hands anywhere you can touch; his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his neck. He can feel you everywhere, except the place he needs you the most.

“Can I fuck you?” he finds himself gasping, between kisses. He’s prepared for a no, despite the way your body obviously wants him. “Please. Say it, please.” Your teeth are knocking and he’s basically sucking on your tongue, trying to invade you, get more of you.

And then you nod and you press yourself against his hip. You look him in the eyes and the haze melts away. It’s just you and him; you’re staring at him in a way that he had only ever dreamed about. “I want you, Miguel. Right now, there’s nothing more that I want than you.”

He studies you for a moment, just listening to the sound of your breathing, of his own. You smile softly at him and card your hand through his hair, cocking your head to the side just the slightest bit. Your knee rests against his hip, giving him full access. He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more gorgeous.

“I..” Miguel hesitates, but pushes through. “I want you, too.”

When he slides inside you, he does it slowly, just like he said he would. It’s just the tip, but your back still arches, your breath is still taken away. Miguel looks down at where you’re connected and the sight is pornographic; your walls just swallowing him in, pulsating around him. It feels like you were made just for him, and he wants to shape your cunt around him, make sure no one else can ever make you feel good.

“Shit,” he hisses, bracing himself. One of his hands snakes around the back of your head to keep you from bumping into the wall, and the other holds you by the waist, making sure you’re steady. “You’re so tight, honey, god. Can you relax for me?”

You whine softly as he slides a little deeper, punching the breath from his chest. He’s only halfway in, but he feels like he’s going to cum any second. You’re not making this very easy on him.

“Miguel, it’s too much,” but your pussy is clinging to him like it needs him, and your nails make crescent markings in his shoulders as you try to steady your breathing.

“It’s okay, hermosa, it’s okay,” he coos, kissing you quickly. He hopes it’s enough to reassure you, because it’s taking all his energy to keep himself from just thrusting right into you. “I know you can take it, shit, I know you can. Just a little more.”

You reach up to kiss him back. It’s tender and he sighs into your mouth, rolling his hips forward without thinking about it. You squeak and your nails grip him so hard he knows they’re drawing blood, but he can’t think about anything but how fucking hot you are around him, already trying to milk him dry and he hasn’t even started. He’s all the way inside you now. He can feel your heartbeat through your walls.

“Miguel,” you whisper, placing your hand under his chin to make him look at you. “Move, please.”

Who is he to say no to such a pretty request?

Miguel pulls back slowly, more for himself than for you; if he goes any faster, he’s done for. He sounds pathetic, mumbling about how beautiful you are, how good you’re making him feel. Once he’s all the way out, he slides back in, all at once this time.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you whine, as he starts to set a steady pace. Miguel is trying to look anywhere but your eyes, trying to prolong this. He can feel his balls aching as they begin to slap against your ass; he moans out loud when you clench around him.

“Faster, ah,” you cry, and a switch flips inside him.

He pulls out suddenly, relishing for a moment in the way you whine, but then he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around, so that your hands are braced against the wall and your ass is exposed to him. Miguel marvels at the sight but knows he doesn’t have much time; the threat of Strange showing up grows worse with each second. So, he wastes not another minute before sliding back into you, smoothing his hand over the delicious arch of your back.

“You want it like this? Faster? Harder?” Miguel grips your ass and spreads you open; he almost drools at the way your puckered hole is clenching, the way your pussy greedily swallows him. He smacks your asscheek hard enough to leave a mark and almost cums when you tighten around him.

“Answer me,” he chokes out, too far gone to really care about how rough he’s being. You seem to like it, anyhow, babbling yesyesyes and thankyouthankyou, and Miguel thinks to himself that nothing is going to be the same after this. For you, for him, for whatever it was that the two of had together.

He can’t seem to care, because suddenly you’re squeezing him so tight that he almost doubles over, overwhelmed with the pleasure that shoots up his spine. Instead, he reaches down to your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles over it with his thumb. He’s moaning like he’s the one being touched, because you’re almost sobbing now.

“Miguelmiguelmiguel, I’mgonna—oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck I’m cumming!—”

Miguel’s vision dots with stars. He feels like he’s been dropped into the ocean, and he’s drowning in you, and he’s not struggling because he wants to be taken under.

“Hah, f-fuck, that’s it,” he forces out, his hips snapping into you so feverishly he’s afraid he might be hurting you. Maybe not that afraid, because just seconds later he smacks your ass again, this time even harder. You sound like you’re crying. The lewd, wet noises of your creaming cunt echo in the cavernous room and again Miguel wonders if there are cameras. He wonders if maybe he could sneak the tape before the doctor arrives home.

“Inside,” you whimper, turning to look at him over your shoulder. You look like a fucking angel, debauched, mascara running down your cheeks, your lips puffy and parted. “Please.”

That’s all Miguel needs, because the moment the words leave your mouth, he’s cumming hard, squeezing you with such force that he’s sure he’ll leave finger-shaped bruises on your skin. The noise that leaves him sounds inhumane, crazed, but it’s drowned out by the searing pleasure that strikes him. He barely registers that the sound is his at all.

When he comes to, he’s still inside you, and when he pulls out he groans lowly as his cum starts to drip out. You’re still clenching around nothing, legs trembling. Miguel caresses your ass gently, his hands soothing the red handprint, just wanting to touch you some more. He’s not sure what’s going to happen after this, and he wants to savor it while it lasts.

"Don’t worry,” you say as you turn to face him, leaning back against the wall. Your voice is hoarse and tired. “I’m on the pill.”

“Huh?” Miguel thinks for a second before he realizes, and he just nods. That was truly the least of his worries; he’s still in his post-orgasm haze, and all he can think about is how good he feels. “Oh, that. Good.”

You smile. “Yeah. Just that.”

You reach for him and he immediately comes forward to hold you, his lips hovering above yours. He’s a little worried that you might regret it, but is slightly reassured by the feathery touch of your fingers as they slide around him.

“Hey,” you whisper, still grinning softly. “How about we go home? If Strange comes in here and sees us like this I don’t think I can ever face him again.”

Miguel knows you don’t mean your apartment. You mean home, the Spider Society, and he feels a swell of pride at that. He’s made that your home. Even if he did technically kick you out of it.

“Mmhm. I need to clean you up.”

Your cheeks go red. “Is it really that messy? Don’t let anything get on the carpet! It’s impossible to scrub stuff out, I think it’s a vintage rug or something.”

He stares at you, and then he laughs, and laughs a little harder once he notices the way your eyes light up at the sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

I’ll take care of you, is what Miguel doesn’t say. But he gets the feeling that you hear it, anyhow. You kiss him again and he thinks that he could do that forever.

“Ok. I trust you.”

And of all the pretty noises you’ve made for him, all the lovely things you’ve said, somehow, that’s the most beautiful thing Miguel has ever heard.

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