#my writings
Text
Objects in Motion
Part 2
Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader
Part 1 here
You’re deep in sleep when a loud bang wakes you.
Bolting up with a gasp, your heart pounds in your chest for a few minutes. You’re not sure what the noise was- a door slamming shut, or maybe something falling in the apartment above you, but the echo of it in your head keeps you awake for a while, hating that your anxiety doesn’t let you sleep.
.
You go to another dry cleaners, you do your best to avoid going out. You go to work, and back home for a couple of weeks, worried that someone will find you and scold you for what you’ve done.
You think about being scolded by him, you doubt you’d be able to last a moment in his presence.
After you’d ensured the safe delivery of the coat, did you finally research the owner.
William Russo, his stoic, borderline angry expression staring back at you through your computer screen had only made you aroused all over again.
This, this was the Alpha with a scent so magnetic, you couldn’t resist it.
He was rich, a CEO, and you could only look around your threadbare apartment and sigh sadly, there was nothing you could offer him that would interest him.
So, you try to move on with your life, work hard so you can afford to buy alleviators for your next heat, and stay away from alphas that would no doubt hurt you.
The art museum was a big comfort. On a Friday evening, when it was at its emptiest, you’d go in, and stare at all the paintings. You’d study the brushstrokes till your eyes burned, items like Starry Night, and Street Light were beautiful works that always made you dare to dream of a life better than the one you were in. Today however, The Lovers was the one that kept you most occupied.
Two people, with white cloths over their heads as they lean into each other, kissing. Hidden from each other’s sight, you wonder if the painting only holds its romance because of the seemingly anonymity of the subjects. If the mystery was removed, would there be more love, or less?
It was kind of how you felt right now, pained, searching for something that you weren’t familiar with. An alpha, to call your own.
None of the alphas you’d met had ever been right for you. There was an entitlement written into them, the belief that your station was lesser, so you were supposed to submit. Alphas constantly lived with that air of superiority surrounding them, and they were easily upset when you did not give them what they wanted.
The alphas you dated were wrong to think that submission was something freely given, in reality, it had to be earned.
You wondered if the alpha on your mind would ask nicely.
Probably not. It was a good thing he existed only in your fantasies.
.
Your omega privilege means you get to stay a little after closing. You smile gratefully in the security guard’s direction when he comes to escort you out.
“We’ve got a new piece coming in tomorrow. You won’t be able to stay late anymore, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”
You smile in delight.
“Do you know which one it is?” You ask.
“Not really, not much of an art guy, but it’s a big deal, really expensive.”
You nod, enthusiastically.
“Well, I can’t wait.” You reply, wishing the beta a good night when you finally reach the exit, pulling your jacket tighter around you to protect from the cold.
.
Not for the first time in his life, he feels the loneliness.
It’s only that he’s never felt it quite like this. Usually, people just didn’t want him, his mother gave him up when he was a baby, and he’d never really understood why. Through his life, people had assumed he’d present as a beta, because he’d been a scrawny kid. Things had only gotten worse when at ten, his alpha denomination had shown through.
Then, everyone had wanted a piece of him, an opportunity to say that they’d fought an alpha and won, uncaring of his age and size- the world had forced him to become ruthless very quickly.
He’d let the world’s rejection shape him, and he’d only realised that when he’d met Frank.
Frank had made him understand, that alphas were not supposed to be cruel, but rather the very definition of safety and security.
He'd tried his best to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him, and that had worked.
At least, it had, up until he'd smelled that stupid coat.
Now, it was like someone had taken a piece of him and ran off with it, ripped a carefully placed bandage off and left him with an open wound. He could feel the absence, like if it was a whole other person in the room.
He wanted his omega.
It was all he’d thought about now, as he pressed the coat to his nose every night, struggling to catch her fading scent, he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again when the scent fully faded.
He keeps going, maybe he even pushes himself harder, his work distracts him, helps him keep a clear head.
He’d even accepted a job to secure artwork for the museum, even though his specialty was protecting people, and Frank was usually the man that handled asset protection.
He’s following closely behind The Scream when he stops dead in his tracks.
One of his employees tosses him a confused glance, but he ignores it as he takes a deep inhale.
He’d know that vanilla scent anywhere, the smell of apples mixed in and his heart gives an eager kick.
Surely not-
He turns his head, sees a painting of two lovers hiding from each other, kissing through a shroud of white cloth. He studies it for a moment, his mind racing at speeds he can’t fathom.
When the painting gets too far ahead, he turns and resumes his stride, thinking about all the ways he can do his best to get what he wants.
.
He gets permission to access the security footage of the museum.
Who’s really going to deny an alpha anyway?
Billy finds her, or at least the back of her head, and he can’t help the excitement that after weeks of searching, he’s managed to get lucky and obtain a lead on her.
He talks to the security guard that walked her out. With a sleepy voice over the phone, the man tells him that she’s a frequent visitor to the museum on Fridays, and she doesn’t cause any trouble so he lets her stay a little after closing.
“She just likes looking at the pieces, and I can’t be mean to an omega as shy as her.”
Billy’s mouth twitches upward, amused at the biological imprint inside everyone to protect omegas. The men who’d done her a favour to deliver his coat had said near the same thing.
It had made him fond, of a sweet girl, that would no doubt be spooked if he showed up at her home unannounced. Even if he now had the means to trace her back to her home, he couldn’t take the risk. He had to play this right.
.
When you hear Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display, you vibrate with excitement. Instead of going the opening week, you wait till your usual time the next Friday, when hopefully there’s much less of a crowd to contend with.
It’s not completely empty, but you’re okay with the sparse crowd, you smile, tiptoeing to peek over shoulders so that you can catch a sight of it before you’re at the front.
You love everything about it, the colour and the expressionism of it, you wonder how much the paint has faded over time. The little paragraph beside the painting describes an infinite scream, a universal anxiety, and you think you can almost feel that as you stare at it, the idea that you’re being watched sending a nervous thrill down your spine.
When you move away from the painting however, the feeling lingers. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to shake the feeling, you don’t understand how a painting can have such an effect.
To clear your head, you find an impressionist nearby, Monet’s reflections of clouds on a lily pond, and you stand in front of it, letting out a long sigh.
When the distinct smell of bergamot hits you, you stiffen.
Your heart squeezes into your throat, and you try to look around as casually as possible, betas turn to look at you as they scent your distress in the air.
Did you feel like you were being watched- because you were actually being watched?
You take in another breath, and this time, you’re sure.
Cracked pepper, citrus-
The alpha was here.
Someone says your name behind you, and you turn in fright.
There he was. Dressed down in casual clothes, trying to blend in with the people around him- as if an alpha as handsome as him ever could.
Billy Russo was devastatingly gorgeous up close.
But you were fucked.
Your eyes widen and you take a step back, knowing that this was definitely about stealing his coat. He would no doubt try to make you pay for cleaning- or worse yet- a new coat entirely.
Your body flushes with fear as you back away from him on shaky legs.
His head tilts as he watches you go, dark eyes caught on your retreating form.
“Don’t run, omega.” He says easily, taking a single stride as you back away, his presence looming over you, igniting something in your stomach like a match being struck.
You make a small sound in the back of your throat, and you do exactly what he says not to.
You run.
Well, not exactly.
More like a quick walk, looking back to see if he follows, you beeline for the bathroom, hoping to hide in there for a moment.
You groan, splashing your face with water, internally grumbling over what you've gotten yourself into.
You should have never grabbed that stupid coat with your stupid omega senses always searching for the right alpha. What did you think? That just because he’d had an amazing scent meant that he wanted to take care of you?
No, he was probably going to scold you, and force you to pay him back, and you couldn’t afford three thousand for a coat.
Your throat tightens in panic, your body flushes with fear.
You couldn’t think too much on what he would do if he caught you, all you needed to focus on right now, was getting away.
So you take a deep breath and you shed your jacket, tucking it under your arm and stepping out of the bathroom behind someone.
There’s not a lot of people, but luckily you know the museum, and you take the most secluded paths that you doubt anyone unfamiliar to the museum would know of.
You sigh happily when you see the exit door in sight, making large meaningful steps, looking back every now and then. Behind you is empty, and you think that you might have actually lost him.
It sends a pang of sadness through you, but you shake your head to shove it away.
You look back once more when you push your way through the exit doors, making sure the path behind you is clear of any six foot alphas.
And you walk right into him.
You’re not sure it is at first, but his size and smell give it away. Your face is pressed securely to his chest, and his hands come up to grip your upper arms firmly.
You raise your head in panic, trying to wrench back from him.
“Relax omega, you’re not in any trouble, I promise.” He says, something in his voice that makes his words sound believable.
You whine in distress.
“Please, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to replace your coat. I shouldn’t have taken it.” You plead, voice wobbling with the struggle to speak under duress.
“Shh, little one, I’m not here to ask you for money.”
His words don’t register in your head, and you begin to cry. Thick swells of tears fall from the corners of your eyes.
“I can’t pay.” You struggle out in a tiny voice.
He grunts, his hands move to cup your face, your tears spilling onto his fingers instead.
“Omega.” He says meaningfully.
The command in his tone makes you look up at him, brain going quiet, the power of his voice catching your attention easily. His stern expression softens.
“I’m not here to make you pay for anything, and I promise you’re not in any trouble.”
You make a little sniffle.
“ ‘M not?” You ask weakly.
The corner of his mouth curves up.
“No, I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” You repeat dumbly.
His thumbs trace over your cheekbones gently, a soft tingling sensation swims in your head and settles at the top of your spine. Your eyelids flutter as you watch him nod.
“I’ve been searching for you for weeks, omega, since you left me that coat drenched in your sweet scent, I haven’t had a clear thought since.”
You gulp.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper.
“Don’t be sorry just-” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s looking for the right words, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. My treat.”
You take a deep breath, eyes widening.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”
He lets out a swift breath, you worry that you might be aggravating him.
“What aren’t you sure about? Your safety?”
You feel your heart pick up its pace beneath your ribcage, tormenting your body with the feeling of panic.
You reach up, cupping his hands in yours and peeling them off your cheeks.
“Alphas are… notorious for getting angry when they don’t get their way.” You reply anxiously, your hands uncurling from his, filled with so much trepidation.
“I understand, but give me a chance to prove myself. There’s something between us, omega, you just have to open yourself up to it.”
You blink, stomach flipping as you debate your options.
You eye him warily, too afraid to say no, too scared of how he would react.
You take another step back, and his face looks pained, his body tense.
You shake your head, scared, taking another cautious step away.
“Please don’t run.” He says softly, it makes you pause.
Maybe… maybe a chance wouldn’t be so bad.
“What about lunch tomorrow?” Somewhere bright and public that would make you feel safer about being around him.
He lets out a slow breath.
“Lunch is great. Where?”
You think for a moment.
“We can meet right here, there’s a place not far from here with nice sandwiches.”
He inclines his head.
“Sandwiches are great.”
You give him a soft smile of amusement, still a little unsure.
“Okay, we’ll meet here tomorrow? Around 12?”
He nods, digging into his pockets for a moment before pulling a card out and extending it to you.
You blink, a little cautious, reaching for the obsidian coloured paper in his hand. You study the raised silver lettering, his name, his job title, his company.
“The one on the left is my cell. Let me know when you get here. If you want, we can look around the museum too.”
Something flips in your chest at the thought. You wonder what he thought of The Scream.
“No,” You mumble, shaking your head, “The museum is packed on a Saturday. I hate crowds.”
He nods in understanding.
“No crowds then, maybe we can take a walk in the park.”
“Maybe.” You reply, still a little unsure of this entire scenario.
“You're safe, Omega, I promise.”
You offer a sad smile.
“That's what they all say.”
.
He was going to kill every Alpha that had ever made you feel unsafe.
He sits in his car, after you'd denied his offer to at least take you home.
Your scent fades where he'd touched you, his body demanding more. Apples, so fucking sweet his mouth waters.
Halfway to his home, a text comes in from you, shyly informing him that you'd made it home.
He'd asked, wanted to make sure that you were safe as the late evening had turned to night.
He keeps it simple, types out a small message to put you at ease.
Thank you. Sweet dreams
.
.
.
A/N: Pretty sure y'all are gonna hate this. Sorry.
Also, just asking for more without leaving any kind of feedback makes me feel kinda used 😅
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#my writings#the punisher#omega!reader#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o verse#alpha!billy russo
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I turned that wip I shared into a fullblown fic chapter and posted it!
So if you have any love for The Hobbit and Bilbo and Thorin and Bagginshield and fix-its and stories that take canon sideways, you might want to check it out! Just a thought, you know?
#thilbo#bagginshield#the hobbit#bilbo baggins#thorin oakenshield#my writings#we'll see where this goes eh?
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more my stand-in thoughts and other ramblings about joe/zhou xiang best boi
!!!!!!!!!!! POSSIBLE NOVEL SPOILERS WARNING !!!!!!!!!!!
as my stand-in begins to air, even though we're only two episodes in, the series itself has already established very clearly and explicitly that ming is a HUGE RED FLAG and he's not... the nicest guy.
and as we are told by the narration of joe, this time he had with ming was not a dream as he had though but rather a nightmare and that it was ming who led joe to his death (literal translation of his last line in ep 1, iqiyi engsub you lack accuracy i hate you).
and while i am just one among the joe's protection squad, i feel like i don't share this overwhelming opinion i've been seeing of people thinking joe 2.0 should pull a 180 change or to be as bad as ming or to become some kind of monster and take his revenge on everyone who's ever hurt him as if this is some makjang kdrama.
i once wrote a bit about my thoughts on why joe/zhou xiang is such a compelling protagonist and what separates him from other 188 novels' main characters. but since that piece was written before my stand-in had aired and i think the characterization of joe has been slightly changed in comparison to the novel, so i want to take this chance to elaborate a bit more on my point in that post as well as update it to fit with the series version of zhou xiang.
so, like i've mentioned,one of the traits i love most about joe/zx is this inherent kind-hearted nature of his and i think the series has not only just done well in this aspect, but also greatly amped up this quality in the series portrayal of zhou xiang.
you can seeeeee it through joe's acts of services for this STRANGER he had just met. be it offering ming a ride to the BTS station or cooking for ming even though they didn't fuck.
however, i do agree with my friend @dragonsandphoenix's observation that with the series, since they're trying to speed through joe 1.0 and ming's relationship, the series has joe falling much quicker (literally him using the L word on ep 2 pls joe) than zhou xiang did, considering it took mingjoe only 2 ep before they started their period of domestic life and yanzhou 17 chapters to do the same thing.
i feel like this specific adaptation change in regards to characterization can cause audience to be even more protective of joe than novel readers already were of zhou xiang. one of my biggest fears for this adaptation (i say one of bc novel readers would already know my biggest fear of one specific scene) has always been the doormat allegations against joe. but like i've also said before, it's that specific trait that 'joe has the ability to fight back but he simply won't because he refuses to hurt others and his soft heart has him in pain whenever he sees others hurt' about him that i hold so dear. even in the series, we know joe has the physical capability of taking sol down... and the man did give sol a deck to his neck making him passed out.
... but it's also the same joe who would take care of sol after accidentally decking him.
did anyone watch ep 2 started counting how many times JOE apologizes in this episode... literally in the car scene, he said sorry to ming TWICE because he was scared he had hurt ming's feelings for his assumptions (right ones at that). or when the hot water dripped from the lid of the pot, joe immediately said sorry and checked to see if ming was hurt.
youtube
whether it is in the novel or the series, joe/zhou xiang is just really the type to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, he's never been able to put himself first and puts others' feelings above his (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ
which is why i was pleasantly surprised reading professional body double. because one would generally assume that after all the miseries thrown his way, he would become a bitter person, full of grudge and resentment against people who had hurt him, but he doesn't. that just isn't who joe is.
while joe's bad experience in his 1.0 life does change how he navigates his social life and the relations he has around him, it doesn't change the inherent kind hearted nature nor the optimistic outlook on life he once had. i love that for joe in his 2.0 life because his first and foremost goal was to restart a life happily and we gradually got this journey of self-respect and joe 2.0 finally being able to put himself first and fight for the things/people he love.
while there are obviously bad consequences to the "antagonists", i like that it has never been the direct result of joe 2.0 actions but it's more karmic. although i'm very open and would glad to see the antagonists getting even worse consequences than what happened in the novel (which i think was pretty mild) i think i'd rather be interested to see more of series!joe being happy and successful (big emphasis on successful because if i don't see joe with his 20+ blockbusters he deserve i'm suing for emotional damage)
in regards to the wife chasing arc in the second half of the series, i think this part will be rather controversial since there are diverse opinions on how audience want the wife chasing arc to be executed, or from joe 2.0's perspective: his responses/actions to being chased by ming again. and trust me, i do want to see ming grovelling in pain and suffer just as much as the next joe's protector. but at the same time for me it'd just be... ooc of joe to intentionally and/or maliciously inflict pain on ming. granted i do have some qualms as to ming's chasing method that i hope the series will adjust, i do think that zhou xiang's approach to being chased by yan ming xiu was rather sufficient without the need to give zhou xiang a 180 personality change, so i really hope that doesn't change.
all in all, while it's probably quite early to tell how the second half will progress and whether it does/doesn't diverge from his journey in the second half, i just think it was very in character for zhou xiang to make the decisions he does in the novel in his second life (except for one noble idiocy move that lasted like a day) and hopefully joe 2.0 also does in my stand-in for his new life. *sighs* joe is just truly best boi... i love him... look at he... that's my baby angel （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～
#my stand in novel spoilers#my stand in#my stand in the series#my stand-in#professional body double#novel spoilers#was this just a post to say please don't be mean to my boi joe even if he makes terrible decisions in love? yes yes it was#wanna touch upon the point of the beauty that is ravaged joe and his series of unfortunate events but perhaps another post#claire opens up her goddamn mouth#msi thoughts#my writings#Youtube
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Another Phighting writing account??YAYYAYYAYAYAY
can you do yan!Subspace x former assassin!reader (reader is gender neutral!). The reader was from Blackrock but ran away and uhh Subspace kinda found them again.. oneshot please!
(I stole this request from someone because the other writer hasnt update for a while and I am in desperate need of fanfics.. thank youu!)
sorry for taking so long on requests! i've got a good handful in my inbox now and since i got a lot of my assignments out of the way, i can start working on these ahaha
requests are also still open! please feel free to send some my way in my inbox :)
aanyways, thank u for being so patient!!! here we go
tw - yandere themes, kidnapping, drugging, semi-realistic violence
˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖
♡ YAN ! SUBSPACE X READER ♡
˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖
Your life at BLACKROCK was -- to put it bluntly, a living hell.
Your entire life, all you ever knew from the moment you entered this world and were shipped off to that horrid faction, was violence, war, weaponry, and murder.
You were trained to hurt people. Hurt demons who dared try to question Blackrock. Those who tried to flee, to escape the freezing confines of the place.
Rules were strictly abided to at Blackrock. Make one mistake -- consider yourself a goner. The best outcome was you being thrown in prison, the worst outcome was being slaughtered publicly.
You were made to abide by the rules and silence those who made the smallest of mistakes.
Nobody ever thought you'd break the rules one day yourself.
So when you one day disappeared, having vanished off the face of the Inpherno, Blackrock believed you were a goner.
That was far from the truth.
You knew the ins and outs of the faction, making your escape was relatively easy -- a cakewalk.
As an assassin, you specialized in stealth, speed, and agility. Maneuvering past guards and treading through freezing cold blizzards did not falter your escape in the slightest.
And when you were finally out, taking a deep breath of the fresher, evenly temperature air, you believed to be in the clear, as long as you managed to keep a life of anonymity, what could go wrong?
And you were right -- everything was fine.
Until one day, when mindlessly watching a PHIGHT, you noticed a familiar face participating in the round.
Subspace T. Mine.
You felt your heart stop in the moment.
Back in Blackrock, the two of you hardly had any form of connection. Rarely spoke to one another, as the two of you were on completely different fields of work.
His rambles about discovery and science nonsense made no sense to you. His work partner - Medkit, seemed constantly annoyed by the guy's presence as well.
You always talked to Hyperlaser more often. You still occasionally met up with him and Katana to go out for drinks in Crossroads -- as Hyperlaser was your only friend from Blackrock who swore to keep your existence a secret to that awful, awful faction.
But you did always take note of how Subspace.. stared at you often, whenever the two of you did manage to encounter one another back in Blackrock.
You remember constantly asking him if he needed something, and he'd whip out some awful excuse, saying how he was just "focusing on something next to you" or "staring off into space".
Yet, he always did it often. It got on your nerves.
The guy was .. a little weird. It's no wonder you constantly avoided him.
But Subspace... knew everything about you. Unbeknownst to you.
He'd often send a Biograft to just .. watch as you worked in Blackrock. He was so utterly captivated by the way you'd wipe out any filthy traitors with a single swipe of your blade.
You were so.. powerful -- flawless, perfect.
Subspace wanted everything you had.
Subspace wanted you.
The way their blood would hit your face, your stoic expression unchanged at their screams and cries -- as you silenced them with ease.
He so badly wanted to talk to you. But he could never find the courage to do so, despite his greatness, talking to you was his only flaw.
Medkit was often forced to listen to his constant rambles about you, often tuning it out and focusing on crystal studies.
But oh -- did Subspace just want to bring you in, set you down and tear you open, digging around at your inner workings, watching as your blood would stain his skin.
He needed you.
So when you disappeared, Subspace was devastated.
His work became sloppy, slower, and his emotions became violent.
Medkit suffered the consequences of his outbursts.
Nothing was never enough. Not without you. He needed to see you again -- even if you were some lifeless, rotting corpse in the midst of a blizzard, or if you were out there somewhere, he needed to find you.
So when he felt eyes on him during a PHIGHT match that he'd found himself participating in, he turned his head.
And he saw you.
You looked different. Your appearance was different, but it did not change the fact that your face was the same.
He found you.
The match? Subspace didn't care about some stupid bux anymore. You instantly clouded his mind. Thoughts of you, your face, your skills, your expression -- everything.
He could hardly hold back the manic laughter bubbling in his chest, rising to his throat.
Subspace had found you.
And he wasn't going to lose you again.
Walking home to your apartment in Crossroads late that night was no unusual activity for you. After saying your goodbyes to Hyperlaser and Katana, you strolled down the empty sidewalk, your apartment building only a few blocks away.
The sounds of crickets in the distance, the soft breeze of the night and the lack of any demons around was rather peaceful for you.
Thoughts of seeing Subspace again had almost completely left your mind, the soft buzz of alcohol from drinking earlier had you a little more careless.
But the sudden rustle of a bush from not far behind you shattered the relaxation you were undergoing, as you froze.
As a trained assassin in the past, you had high reflexes. Any slight noise off in the distance; you were trained to take note of, and prepare to defend yourself.
The night grew still.
You swore you heard quick footsteps.
Multiple footsteps. Two people, max.
One sounded.. normal. The other sounded heavier.
Something wasn't right here.
You quickly took a few steps back, not taking your eyes off of the bushes behind you, your dominant hand moving to reach for your gear so that you could summon it--
You were suddenly yanked backwards by cold, rough, metallic hands wrapping around your waist, locking your arms to your sides.
It wasn't a demon's skin that you felt from your assailant.
" TARGET ACQIRED. "
You knew those voices.
Biografts.
A Biograft was holding you still.
" PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESIST. "
You ignored the bucket of bolts, slamming your head back onto the robot's in hopes to damage it enough for it to loosen its grip, allowing you to escape.
As you felt the arms around you begin to loosen, a figure suddenly ran in front of you.
You felt a sharp pinch in your neck.
You screamed.
Not out of pain, you were trained to have a high pain tolerance.
But you weren't an idiot. You were clearly getting kidnapped -- and you'd most likely just got some kind of injection.
A cold hand covered your mouth.
"..shh, shh." a familiar voice -- slightly muffled underneath a mask, spoke. "Don't scream, beloved. I only gave you a small pinch!"
The demon in front of you -- you recognized him instantly with horror.
Subspace.
You -- how -- he actually noticed you earlier?!
You noticed your vision growing foggier and foggier - your brain turning into mush as comprehending thoughts became harder and harder.
no no no no noononono
You felt Subspace move his hand away from your mouth and over towards your cheek, softly caressing it with his thumb.
"Don't panic." Subspace reassured -- his voice becoming quieter and quieter, sounding farther off into the distance as your consciousness was quickly deteriorating. "I'll take good care of you."
The last thing you felt was being slowly lifted up by the Biograft - and your world faded to darkness.
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It's funny how clearly uninformed a lot of criticism of Mozilla and its browser Firefox is. Like people say "it's just another corporation, out to make profit, just like Google." And that ordinary users promoting Firefox are just giving them free advertising.
It's in basically any post criticizing Mozilla, including on this site. Like using tumblr search I quickly found a post that was largely positive, but argued that Mozilla operates "under capitalist incentives" And outside tumblr I found a blog post out on the interwebs that criticized Mozilla and outright wondered "I don't know if Mozilla's business model ever made sense, it makes a lot more sense if it's something closer to a nonprofit rather than a commercial entity."
Well, let's research the Mozilla Corporation, see what that business model actually is. Let's begin that research by going to the wikipedia article, and read the two introductory paragraphs. And it turns out that it's "a wholly owned subsidiary of the Mozilla Foundation", which is a non-profit.
"The Mozilla Foundation will ultimately control the activities of the Mozilla Corporation and will retain its 100 percent ownership of the new subsidiary. Any profits made by the Mozilla Corporation will be invested back into the Mozilla project. There will be no shareholders, no stock options will be issued and no dividends will be paid. The Mozilla Corporation will not be floating on the stock market and it will be impossible for any company to take over or buy a stake in the subsidiary."
Turns out that it is not just "closer to a non-profit", it is literally a non-profit. Turns out you only needed two paragraphs on wikipedia to learn that, the most basic online research possible, which basically every post I found criticizing Mozilla failed to do.
This is entirely different from any other entity calling itself corporation, which is all about creating profit or money for its shareholders, the "capitalist incentives" spoken about earlier.
If you read further into that article, you will learn that the Mozilla corporation literally only exists separate from the foundation for tax and legal purposes, but it's still a non-profit operation.
This makes it reasonably immune from the enshittification process I've written about before. there is no incentive to fuck over the experience for end users for the sake of shareholder profits, like what tumblr is doing right now.
It means that Firefox is an exemption to the rule that "if something is free, you are the product", because there is no product to produce profits for shareholders, it's a charitable endeavour for a free and open internet, as laid out in the Mozilla manifesto.
This doesn't mean non-profits make corruption impossible, there is plenty of corruption in non-profit foundations. But unlike actual capitalist corporations, it doesn't have the greed and corruption built in. And if you are going to criticize Mozilla and Firefox, which it does sometimes deserve, you should have your basic facts straight before doing so, if you expect me to take you seriously.
#mozilla firefox#mozilla foundation#my writings#i ranted about this before including in the post i linked#but so much of the mozilla criticism i see about is just plain objectively wrong
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Being a toy means you're useful. Toys are meant to be played with, enjoyed, treasured, used. You are cared for and then put away until the next time you are needed. A toy is someone's favorite thing. They can't wait to play with their toy. Doesn't being a toy sound so much better than being a person?
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[Key]
-💕means it has sexual content/Implied sexual content..
-💔means it is an angst fic
-😍means it is a family fic
-💘means it is an angst fic with a happy ending.
-🚫means it contains a Trigger Warning.
─ ★
─ ★Lucifer Morningstar.
🪽:Lucifer realizing he's falling in love Headcanon's
🪽:TransMasc reader x Lucifer. Anything would be amazing but if you rather work with a concept, both reader and Lucifer being awkward because they wanna kiss SO BAD but don't think the other does but when they do it goes 0-100 so fast--💕
🪽:[ underside ] sender leans in and places a suggestive kiss just under receiver's jawline.
🪽:Lucifer giving you oral-💕
🪽:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.
🪽:sub!lucifer with like, whining and begging-💕
🪽:Broken Hallelujah -💘
🪽:Giving Lucifer a Squishmallow
🪽:Lucifer leaving Hickey's all over the reader
🪽:Imagine giving Lucifer a Duck squishmallow
🪽:How about Y/N giving Lucifer a homemade duck plush holding a heart for valentines day?
🪽:Lucifer being fascinated by you
🪽:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.
🪽:dying in Lucifers arms-💔 || coming back with no memories
🪽:Lucifer bringing you breakfast in bed
─ ★Dad!cifer Fics n Things.
🪽:Reader going through labor
🪽:Lucifer Morningstar with a breeding kink.-💕
🪽:Lucifer going feral for his pregnant wife.-💕
🪽:Lucifer with lactation kink
🪽:Lucifer and the reader take Edna to the hotel to meet the others, ironically Alastor would become the favorite uncle just to annoy Lucifer.
🪽: Charlie Morningstar meeting her baby sister.
🪽:Imagine if for Lucifer and Reader’s baby, they wear duck onesies
🪽:Baby's first step's
🪽:Edna is like 5 and she met a boy and calls him her boyfriend and luck just looses 100 off his life.
🪽:Edna visiting the hotel with Lucifer.
🪽:valentines blurb of Edna giving Lucifer a card that says favorite daddy on it. Y/N helped her make it but refuses to take credit.
🪽: Edna's looks
🪽:Lucifer finding out he's having another child
🪽:Edna changing into a duck due to Lucifers things.
🪽:Lucifer comforting you during your pregnancy
─ ★Alastor "The Radio Demon."
📻:Alastor fucking you in his studio.-💕
📻:Alastor giving you a piggyback ride.
📻:[BEND] for the shorter muse to tug the taller muse down so they can kiss their forehead.
📻:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.
📻:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.
📻:Alastor comforting you
─ ★Dad!Alastor Fics n Things.
📻: Alastor with a breeding kink.💕
📻:Alastor's twins beefing with Vox
📻:Alastor's twins
📻:Alastor's Twin's names
📻:Alastor & Husk as Father HC's
─ ★Overlord!Husk
🎰:Husk in his suit
🎰:Husk / Overlord!Husk sex hc's
🎰:Husk / Overlord!Husk hc's
🎰:Giving Overlord!Husk a bj under his desk.
🎰:Falling for the nanny || Nanny!reader finding out she is pregnant.
🎰:Kᥲᑲᥱᑯoᥒ
🎰: Overlord!Husk being jealous of Husk
🎰:becoming a father
🎰:Overlord!Husk in a rut.
🎰:overlord!Husk meets a sad reader during a party at the casino and finds out a overlord that owns her soul is treating them bad, so he wins her soul and treats her with the respect she deserves.
🎰:comforting chubby Husk
─ ★Husk
🍻:Helping Husk through his heat-💕
🍻:Husk comforting you.
🍻:imagine Husk having that problem, he has the same "thorns" on his penis, which was a very ugly problem when he had sex for the first time with his wife.-💕
🍻:Reader-chan just surprises him by giving him achubby plush cat that looks similar to him and he tries to hate it but immediately cuddles it when he's alone.
🍻:Husk surprising you with breakfast in bed
🍻:playing with Husk's ears
🍻:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.
🍻:Husk trying a cheesy pick up line on you.
🍻:Imagine Husk's s/o saying: "I'm not even playing cards and I still pulled a king~"
🍻:Husk wearing his old suit for you on date night
🍻:Husk / Overlord!Husk sex hc' || Husk / Overlord!Husk hc's
🍻:Imagine if you're just laying on the couc alone, Husk, and the kits in another room playing or whatever. And out of boredom, you just say: pspspspspsps
🍻:cuddles with a chubby Husk
🍻:Husk x Butterfly Demon Reader
🍻:Husk comforting you
─ ★Dad!Husk Fics n Things.
🍻:Husk as a dad
🍻:Husk carrying his kits
🍻:Husk reacting to Alastor owning his children's souls.
🍻:Husk losing his daughter { AU }-💔,-🚫
🍻:Husk dad blurb
🍻:So is Husk daughter Marilyn a pure white cat? I’m asking because if she is then I can see Alastor petting her in his lap while scheming like those James Bond Villains.
🍻:since husk's little girl is like the runt of the litter, maybe some moments where husk is amazed at how small she is.
🍻:Husk's daughter saying papa for the first time.
🍻:Husk bringing his kits to the hotel
🍻:Husk's kit's names. || color of the kits
🍻:Alastor using a laser pointer on Husk and the kits.
🍻:Husk cleaning his children,too relaxed and focused solely on licking his babies while everyone was purring, and he was accidentally discovered by everyone.
🍻:Husk trying to take a nap with his wife, only for his kits to come barging in, demanding to join in on the cuddles.
🍻:four year old Marilyn giving Husk cupcakes on valentines day. "Papa! Me and mommy made these!"
🍻:cuddling with Husk while pregnant.
🍻:Husk & Alastor as Father's Hc's
🍻:Overlord!Husk meeting the triplets.
─ ★Adam
🍎:Adam, Alastor and Lucifer taking care of a sick reader.
🍎:Lazy morning sex with Adam.-💕
🍎:Can we get depressed/sad Adam x y/n?
🍎:which Adam try's a cheesy pick up line on you.
🍎:Adam, Husk, Lucifer and Alastor helping you while you're on your period.
🍎:Fucking Adam in his office.
���:Adam with fem!reader who gets off by adams pleasure during sex
─ ★Dad! Adam things
🍎:Adam as a father HC's ||
🍎:Finding out he's gonna be a dad
─ ★Angel Dust { Anthony }
💄: Angel dust with a butterfly demon reader and they have to fly up to kiss him because he's so tall.
💄: comforting Angel Dust after having a bad day or a nightmare
💄: Angel Dust comforting you.
#masterlist#my writings#writings#writing masterlist#writing masterpost#fic masterlist#fics#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#husk#hazbin hotel husk#husk x reader#husk x you
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⋆.˚ on a whim — ldh ˚.⋆
‣ pairing: haechan x reader
‣ genre: friends-to-lovers?, fluff
‣ wc: 1.06k
‣ summary: ❝What if… what if I kissed you?❞; alternatively, you impulsively suggest to be your best friend's first kiss
‣ warnings: I wouldn't say it's steamy at the end but it's like,,, sorta detailed
‣ an: this is bc hyuck in glasses makes me want to do backflips (this is literally self-indulgent)
“I’m almost done with this assignment and then after we can watch a movie, sound good to you?”
You scribbled down a few words, waiting for Donghyuck to respond to your question, but you were returned with a half-assed hum. This catches your attention, mainly because it wasn’t like Donghyuck to be disinterested in a movie. He said once that movie nights were his favourite nights.
“Hyuck?” you shift your attention from your work to your best friend, brows knitting together.
Donghyuck’s lying on your bed, eyes looking straight up to the ceiling with an empty expression. You don’t even think he’s blinking.
“Hyuck.” Your voice is firm, trying to catch his attention. You can’t even see him blinking through his glasses, lips falling into a pout.
“Lee Donghyuck!”
You finally catch his attention, though all he does is turn his head in your direction, “Yeah? Sorry… I zoned out.” He sits up on your bed, crossing his legs underneath him.
“I was saying how I’ll just finish this assignment and then we can go on with movie night,” you repeat, “Are you okay? Still up for it?” Your head tilts to the side and Donghyuck has to look away before you cause his heart to arrest.
“Of course I am, I just…” He bites his bottom lip and blinks at the wheels of your chair.
“Is this about what my friends said earlier?” You frown. In all honesty, you didn’t even want to talk about it because you know your anger issues are going to take over. When Donghyuck fails to give you a reply, you follow the question up, “It is, isn’t it?”
“My feelings are valid,” he retorts stiffly, falling back onto his back, “I know I’m pathetic for not even getting my first fucking kiss at this age but—”
“You’re not pathetic, Hyuck,” you interrupt, angry at how he was putting himself down for something so ridiculous, “Don’t say that. Everyone lives life at their own pace.” You throw a soft punch at his knee and he yelps despite it not hurting.
“I know, you’ve told me that before, but when it’s pointed out, I see why it’s stupid,” he goes on, “Like not one person has brought themselves to want to kiss me? How pathetic is that?”
Trains of thought begin running through your head and you let the question hang in the air for too long. Far too long that this makes Donghyuck nervous, “You could at least say that it is pathetic instead of not saying any–”
“What if… what if I kissed you?”
Donghyuck shoots up, “What?”
“What if I kissed you.” You say more confidently, “Then you could say that you kissed someone.”
Donghyuck’s chewing on his lip now, unsure whether or not this would be a good idea, “You’d do that?... Would that even count?”
“I’ll count it if you do…” You say, “Besides, if you’re okay with it, and I’m okay with it, it counts.” Your legs scooches your chair closer to Donghyuck, almost as if anticipating his answer.
If Donghyuck was being honest, he liked the idea. It’s not like he’s been waiting for this for the longest time, no… he just thought it was a good idea. And it was you he was going to kiss for god’s sake. He trusted you, he cared about you, he wouldn’t mind if his first kiss was you. Hell, he wanted his first kiss to be you, “Okay.”
You scoot closer so that your knees touch his, “Go whenever you’re ready.”
“O-okay,” Donghyuck’s taken aback by how straight forward you’re being. He nods once and shifts forward in place, leaning forward to bring his face closer to yours, “Okay, I’ll do it now.”
You can feel his warm breath on your face and it somehow sends you shivers down your neck. The proximity between the two of you is small. It felt like he was doing it on purpose to tease you and you were tempted to be the one who closed the gap between the two of you.
Donghyuck comes closer and you’re ready to close your eyes, but then he pulls away, “Shit, s-sorry.” He apologizes, “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” A frown grows on his lips, worried that he was actually making it awkward between the two of you, just because of a kiss, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
You nod, “I’m the one who suggested it, Hyuck.”
He huffs and nods again. He starts closing in on you. His hands instinctively reach up to grab your face, and at that point you know he’s going to commit to it. Just like earlier, you feel his breath tickle your lips, and before you know it, Donghyuck’s plush lips are pressed up against yours.
Donghyuck holds back a gasp, holding his lips to yours. For a moment, he’s afraid he’s doing it wrong, unsure whether or not he’s moving his lips correctly, but the second you begin kissing back, hands finding the back of his neck in hopes of finding something to hold onto, a sense of relief washes over him.
He pulls away to breathe before pushing his mouth back onto yours. The kiss was deep, that was for sure, something he didn’t expect to happen. When you suggested a kiss, he thought you meant something along the lines of a ‘one-two’ and done, not this. But he didn’t mind it. And it seemed like you didn’t either.
In fact, he likes the feeling. There’s a warm feeling growing in his chest the longer the kiss lasts and he couldn’t get enough of it.
So this was why people did it so often. It felt good.
Donghyuck’s arms slither around your figure, bringing his hands to your back. Then he pulls you closer. And again, you don’t mind.
And just as he feels your tongue tapping gently on his lips to let him in, Donghyuck feels something sharp scratch the bridge of his nose and it doesn’t take him long to realize that his glasses were getting in the way of everything.
He pulls back, groaning, out of breath before he rips them off of his face—because, no, he doesn’t care if he can’t see your face. All he wants to do is kiss you.
“Fuck it,” he mutters before he smashes his lips back onto yours.
#haechan#haechan imagines#haechan scenarios#lee donghyuck#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#my nct writings#my writings#nct imagines#nct#nct dream#nct 127#nct donghyuck#nct haechan#donghyuck imagines#donghyuck scenarios#Kpop imagines#Kpop scenarios#Donghyuck#Lee haechan#Nct 127 imagines#haechan x reader#haechan x reader fluff
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Anywhere With You
Chapter 1: "it's time to go"
Coriolanus (Coryo) Snow x Reader
Word count: 2.4k
Contains: pre-hunger games Coryo | longtime friends to lovers | Coriolanus being soft for the one he loves | mentions of minor tbosas characters | immense amounts of fluff and comfort | slight tbosas spoilers (but not really)
Want More? Chapter 2
--
“The Plinth Prize is no longer.” Dean Highbottom’s voice echoes through the stadium of students, the weight of his words settling amongst the first three rows of Academy standouts. Gasps and whispers fill the crowd, the hair on the back of your neck standing at attention, the buzz of others’ words sending chills down your spine. You don’t dare look at Coriolanus, instead letting your eyes fall shut.
“You’ll face one more test to prove your worth,” the Dean continues, making his way up to the podium at the front of the hall. “After all, you are our most promising students. This is in your DNA.”
Swallowing hard, you force your eyes open, a sick feeling reeling in your stomach. This was supposed to be the end. This was supposed to be the start of your summer with Coriolanus – the time before University. The day that was supposed to change both of your lives for the better.
Murmurs fill the quiet space in between Dean Highbottom’s dramatic pause, stopping not only to drag out this horrific explanation but to soothe himself with a bottle of morphling. You’d never once wished to try the drug, but today, with your vision of the future thinning before your eyes, you’d gladly share the vile with him.
The feeling of skin brushing against yours turns your attention from the front of the room to the chair next to you. Coriolanus. You can’t hold back anymore. You didn’t care who saw, or what they thought. You watch his jaw twitch, his eyes still facing forward as his hand grasps yours, his thumb pressing slow, gentle circles into your skin. He’s holding it in. Another hurdle yet for him to surpass. When you squeeze his hand in return, an involuntary response, he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering to you for only a moment.
Coryo.
Not Coriolanus Snow. Just your Coryo for that moment.
The eyes of your fellow classmates burn at the back of your neck. They all knew Coriolanus was meant for that prize. Top student with stellar marks, after all. Only you knew, though, how badly he needed it. How badly Tigris needed it. The Grandma’am. You, too. This day was supposed to change everything.
Indeed it had.
“On this day of the 10th annual Reaping for the Hunger Games, you all are no longer students, but mentors.” Dean Highbottom continues speaking, pulling you from your own head. Coriolanus shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his free hand tugging at the collar of his shirt. A shirt he’d nearly outgrown, even with Tigris’ adjustments. His other hand never releases yours, his thumb continuing to trace up and down your skin, working to calm you. In any other circumstance it might have worked.
“Each of you will be paired with a tribute from the districts and act their mentor leading up to and throughout the Games.”
“For what purpose?” you ask. The question leaves your lips before you have a chance to even think. Before you have a chance to consider the consequences. What harm could an innocent question have? It was innocent, of course. A student simply inquiring about the new assignment. Certainly nothing more. Most definitely not an imposition of the justness of withholding the Plinth Prize and meddling in “game” that was nearing its natural end. No one in the Capitol had watched the games in years, they were savage. Inhumane. Disconnected from the current state of affairs; the war had been over for years.
Deep, dark laughter fills the room, an unfamiliar voice echoing off the walls. Chills crawl up your spine, a shive running through your body. Everyone's heads whip around, a tall figure entering the auditorium. She slithers down the aisle towards the podium, stopping just in front of your chair. You slip your hand out of Coriolanus’, but he refuses to let go now more than ever. His grasp tightens on you and you notice him shift forward in his seat. It’s now your turn to soothe him, running your thumb over his.
“For what purpose?” the woman before you mimics. You swallow, noting her duochromatic eyes. Her makeup is severe, her hair frazzled, her hands draped in bright red latex gloves. The faint sound of hissing grows louder as she takes another step forward. A snake is wrapped delicately around her wrist, flicking its tongue, slithering over the shiny material. “My dear, remind me. What are the Hunger Games for?” She speaks softly, but in the silent room, her words are clear to all.
“I– well, they’re to –”
The woman shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “You see? We’ve already forgotten.” She turns to Coriolanus, a smile spreading over her lips. “Mr. Snow,” she says. “Why don’t you remind your –” her gaze drops to your intertwined hands, “classmate what the Hunger Games are for.”
Coriolanus shakes his head, looking at you then back to the woman. You weren’t sure who she was, but she knew Coryo. But then again, that came with the territory of being a Snow. He could never escape the history and prowess of his father, no matter how hard he tried. And believe you, he’d tried.
“You tell us they’re to punish the districts for the war.”
“Precisely, Mr. Snow. We all seem to have forgotten what this all is for. And that is where each of you come in.”
“Ah, Dr. Gaul, thank you for providing that insight,” Dean Highbottom interrupts, turning the attention back to the center of the room where the woman – Dr. Gaul – sulks away to join him. Coriolanus leans back in his seat, his breathing heavy. He releases your hand and leans in to place his hand on your thigh. The feeling of his warm palm through the fabric of your uniform lets you take your first deep breath since arriving.
He’s with you.
The remainder of the day goes by in a blur. When you emerge from the Academy, the afternoon sun is beginning to set. You, Coriolanus, and your classmates had each been assigned a tribute. A tribute to make a spectacle of. A tribute to use then sacrifice into the slaughter in order to obtain some prize. It made your stomach turn, the idea of being forced to take the small boy you’d been ‘given’ and parade him around only to send him to his death. A small boy no more than thirteen. A boy you were meant to despise simply because he’s district. But this boy, nor any of the tributes – especially the small girl assigned to Coriolanus – had seen the war, they hadn’t caused it. They were collateral in the Capitol’s game of control. Control they garnered with false promises of the prize. A prize that neither you nor Coryo thought actually existed.
“Who’s to say they don’t dangle it in front of us again?” you ask later that night, standing beside Coryo at the sink while he washed out the pot of potatoes and cabbage Tigris cooked. “That they don’t give us another assignment – another hurdle – to obtain the prize. Just to use us for their bidding?”
You slide behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sighs, setting down the pot and turning to be face to face with you. His hands wander around your waist, pulling you tighter to him.
“Those poor kids are going to die for nothing, Coryo. And we’re to blame,” you cry, resting your head on his chest. He takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to the top of your head. You fit into him so perfectly. The steady, rhythmic beat of his heart in your ears grounds you, tethering you to the moment.
“It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “Dr. Gaul is clearly mad. The way she taunted you?” He pauses, sucking in a breath. There’s a few beats of silence before he speaks again. “I don’t know what she’s capable of, but if she’d have laid a hand on you, I-”
You lift your head to look up at him and lift your hands to place one on each side of his face. His eyes, a blue so clear you can see right into his soul, meet yours.
“I know, Coryo, I know.”
“We have to get out of here,” Coriolanus says. His gaze still holds yours, his demeanor serious.
Your brow furrows. “Get out of where? The Capitol? Coryo, where would we go?”
“Sejanus talks of a place up North, somewhere off the grid where nomads persist.”
“You can’t be serious,” you say, letting your hands fall from his face.
You wanted out. You’d heard rumors of this place up North too, but assumed it was fictitious – maybe a story the districts orchestrated to provide some hope after the war. You’d been taught to be grateful for a life in the Capitol, after all, your name would never be reaped. But the longer you spent here and the older you grew, the more the story of the Capitol and its protection seemed to fall apart. Today had been further proof. Putting the lives of district children in the hands of Capitol children for the sick purpose of entertainment and control.
Coryo turns his head to look out the floor to ceiling windows of the Snow penthouse. Coriolanus had many thoughts about his home, not all of them poignant and kind. He hated the way his home had crumbled throughout the war. Sure, it wasn’t as luxurious as it had once been, but you had an unspoken appreciation for it, knowing that everything within these walls shaped him into the Coryo you loved.
“If we go back to the Academy tomorrow, we’ll never escape. I have a sinking feeling about this game, love. I don’t want Gaul and her creatures hurting you and who’s Dean Highbottom to miss either of us? The miserable bastard will be three morphlings gone by the time the games begin.”
“What about Tigris? The Grandma’am? What about my family?”
Coriolanus sighs. “I’ll make arrangements with Pluribus tonight, he’s always done well to take care of us before.” Coryo reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, taking a pause to caress the side of your face. “And I’ll go wherever you go. If you want to stay, I’ll remain here with you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be there to protect you. This,” he whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip, “is the most important thing to me.”
When your eyes meet his, the defense falls away. He sometimes wished you didn’t have such an effect on him. He never struggles keeping things in, or keeping the world out of his head. But with you – those eyes – he couldn’t hide. He’s grateful for it, really, before you he’d never had a soft place to land. But now, with your hands caressing him, he knows he’s found it.
You could imagine it. The thing you’ve always wanted, a life with Coryo. A life without the influence and ever-looming threat of the Capitol. Of their control, of the stress of finding a way to the top. Coryo wanted the same thing, a life with you. A life where you two were free to be whomever you wanted; a simple life where you could eat what you wanted, when you wanted, and spend your days lying with one another and living amongst others peacefully the way you imagined you would when the war first ended.
“I can’t go back there, Coryo.”
“Then tomorrow morning, we’ll go.” He says it so matter of factly. As if it’s all going to be okay. You choose to believe him and sink into the strength of his chest, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He chuckles, bringing some levity to the decision the two of you just made. “Why don’t we bask in one last hot shower, hm?”
You follow him down the hallway to the bathroom, his foot kicking the door shut in one swift movement. He reaches into the deep green tiled shower and turns on the water, running his hand under to test the temperature. You’re out of your clothes within seconds, eager to shed the identity of the Academy. Coryo does the same, eyeing you with a grin as you step past him and into the shower. He’s so himself here, stripped before you, not carrying the weight of the day, letting it all wash away from him as he ducks beneath the water, dampening his curls.
Without thought, your hand is in his hair, pushing the light blonde strands away from his face, those piercing blue eyes wandering every inch of you. He breathes into your touch, his hands following his gaze, mapping every inch of your body as if committing it further to memory. They say it’s the things we love most that destroy us and – god – he was certain you destroyed the parts of himself that he sometimes feared. With you, he was just Coryo. Your Coryo. And starting tomorrow you could be each others forever.
The warmth of the water combined with the feeling of his skin pressed against yours is heavenly. The steam rises, fogging up the glass as you tip your head back to dampen your hair. Your eyes fall shut, letting the water run down your body. Your body awakens when Coryo’s lips meet your neck, peppering kisses up your jawline until eventually, his hands are tangled in the ends of your hair, lifting your head back to meet him. Sighing, your body alight with warmth and desire, Coryo presses his lips to yours. There’s a quiet moan that you can’t make out as distinctly his or yours, but a shared expression of your feelings.
Something about this being the last night with life as you’d known it changes the kiss. There’s no hesitation, but no urgency either, your bodies intertwining in a way they haven’t before. As if there was nothing and nowhere else that mattered. You’re typically both so consumed with academy assignments, or house work, or recovering from whatever the day brought you. But tonight, with tomorrow on the horizon, it was simply you and Coryo.
#etherealperrie#my writings#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#TBOSAS#TBOSAS fic#Coriolanus snow#Coriolanus snow x reader#Coryo snow#Coryo snow x reader#Tigris snow#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction#tbosas fanfic#Coriolanus snow imagine#Coriolanus snow fic#Coryo snow fic#tom blyth#sejanus plinth
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"you're gonna make me fall in love with you"
steve harrington x reader using she/her pronouns
A/N: ahh the sweet smell of a best friends to lovers fic <3
WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY PLEASE !! language, swimming in underwear (both reader & steve) kissing w/ tongue, boob grabbage, missionary position but no smut occurs
(doesn't follow plot of Stranger Things)
She placed her Converse-covered feet on the leather seat of her best friend, Steve Harrington's beat-up Chevy. He received the "piece of shit car," as he would say, from his parents as a graduation present years ago. It was originally his father's work truck, but he no longer needed it.
"At least you have a car, son," he told him.
All her attention was outside of the car as Steve drove them to their favorite spot at the lake. It seemed as if no one knew it existed since there was never a soul in sight, which was great for the two of them to get away from the hustle and bustle of their small town of Hawkins, Indiana.
The scenery of the drive there was something else - especially at sundown after a warm summer day when the sky was filled with yellow, orange, pink, and purple.
As her hair blew from the open window, she hummed along to Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now' as Steve tapped his hands to the beat of the song on the steering wheel.
Steve pulled into a rocky area where he normally parks the car, went to grab a blanket out of the trunk, and led her to their favorite spot.
Normally, they didn't swim in the water, just lay on the fuzzy blanket, listened to the water and their favorite tunes from Steve’s portable radio, and stared up at the stars.
She and Seve have been friends since middle school, yes, even though his King Steve era where he thought he was better than everyone.
The two of them rarely had fights, and when they did, they quickly made up and went out to get ice cream or head to their favorite spot on the lake.
They found their spot on accident after participating in an extra credit assignment for Ms. Taylor's science class - since the both of them were failing at the time.
Now, a year later, they considered the spot theirs.
Just like usual, empty.
Steve tried his best to lay the teal blanket down flat, but the grass made it difficult.
She laid down first, then Steve. He watched her figure out her next thought as she stared up into the cloudless sky.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, resting his body on his arm.
She turned her head to lock eyes with him and smiled, "I kinda wanna go swimming."
"I didn't bring a swimsuit," Steve sighed.
She chuckled, "Neither did I," quickly getting up and stripping off her T-shirt and jean shorts, leaving her in a bra and underwear.
Steve had seen her change a dozen times and she could care less as she had no shame about her body.
Without waiting for her friend, she ran into the cold but refreshing water. She dove under the small waves and resurfaced to find steve shoving his pants off, leaving him in plaid boxers.
Once he caught up to her, they enjoyed the water for a while longer then went to air dry on the blanket.
Steve reached for the radio to find a station playing a song they both liked. as if it was fate, one of their favorites played softly through the speaker.
He got up and started dancing and singing the lyrics, urging her to come join him on the imaginary dance floor.
She grabbed his hand to help her off the cozy blanket, grabbed her waist and started swaying back and forth. If she was honest with herself, she could picture a life with Steve.
She could imagine traveling with Steve, purchasing a home with him in the suburbs.
She pictured buying a cute little 3 bedroom home in the Indiana suburbs - definitely away from Hawkins. She pictured the bright green grass and being surrounded by nice neighbors and even getting a pet.
She pictured starting a family with him, though, she would never tell him that, unless the time was right.
Back in the moment, she couldn’t stop laughing at Steve’s horrible singing.
“stop it,” she leaned her head back and let out a loud laugh
“stop what? singing?” he didn’t listen and kept singing along.
“you’re gonna make me fall in love with you if you keep singing like that,” she smiled.
Steve blushed, “we’re literally slow dancing in our underwear, i hope you know that i’m already in love with you.”
That’s all she ever wanted to hear from her best friend, “i’m in love with you.”
He wasted no time to press his lips to hers. they were just how she imagined he would taste: a mix of mint toothpaste and the coffee he drinks daily.
she reached her hands up to comb through his damp brunette hair and moaned into his mouth, urging him to shove his tongue in her mouth.
he gripped her waist, then her butt, then her thighs to feel every inch of her, what he wanted to do for years.
the two laid back down on the blanket and continued their assault on each other. he fit right between her legs, but knew that she didn’t want their first time to be on the muddy ground.
to take a breath from their make out session, he rested his forehead on hers and smiled.
“can i call you mine? all mine?” he asked, placing a piece of hair behind her ear.
“that’s all i’ve wanted, steve harrington.”
he reached up to grab at her breast but she stopped before she got too turned on.
“as much as i want to, take me back to your place and take me in your bed?” she said, kissing his neck and down to his chest.
she’s never seen him pack up so quickly.
#stranger things#my writings#my writing#stranger things 4#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#friends to lovers#steve harrington smut#joe keery
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black is the color of my true love’s hair
♡ your devotion to suguru is second to none - you would do anything for your beloved! bonded by true love, loyalty, & utter admiration, these are a few moments where suguru has been unbelievably thankful for you & smitten by your acts of love & service! (a story from my suguru geto: valentine’s day fic list!)
contents: f!reader, no curses au, reader is short/blushes/has hair that can be ran through with fingers! slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of depression/anxiety/self-destructive behaviors. but i promise this is a soft, fluffy fic! it’ll make sense when you read it! dividers are from @saradika! w.c: ~ 11.5k
a/n: belated birthday fic for my beloved husband suguru geto <3 the title of the fic is based on a rendition of the song “black is the colour” by celtic woman! imo it’s the most loving & devotional song i’ve ever heard so i wanted to do a story based on those themes with my favorite black-haired man <3 MY true love <3 p.s. this is my first time ever writing an actual fic & it got a bit long because i got carried away so please bear w me! i hope you enjoy and happy valentine’s day! <3 MWAH!
it’s a simple action, really.
you tilt your head slightly to the right and lift your face up to gaze adoringly at him through your lashes, a mirthful twinkle dancing in your eyes. a soft smirk coupled with a light blush adorns your angelic features, a precious look, which suguru has come to be utterly enchanted by due to the loving action that follows immediately after.
you catch him off guard the first time you do it.
the first time you kiss suguru’s knuckles, he falters.
it’s the way that you do it. naturally & effortlessly, as if it’s like second nature, that causes suguru to stop in his tracks and dedicate all of his attention to you.
his mesmerizing gaze is directed at you, molten gold eyes inquisitive. irrevocably fond.
he attentively watches as you softly grab his large warm hand in your small cold one. his hands are slightly rough yet supple due to his religious use of the honey-almond handcream you bought him earlier in the week.
he notices, rather than intertwining your fingers with his own and holding them, you smoothly bring his hand up to your face, wrapping your digits loosely around the perimeter of his long slender fingers.
your thumb gingerly caresses his ring finger (the one that holds a devout vow of eternal love), your featherlight touch raising wonderful shivers across his body. with the utmost care, you delicately, as if he’s made out of precious china, brush your supple glossed lips against his fingers, relishing in the coolness of his promise ring that encases both his aquamarine birthstone & your own.
your low-lidded enamored eyes never leave his affectionately curious ones — both of you preciously holding the other ones gaze. eyes locked in a staring contest of love.
utterly content with his undivided attention, you gently press a soft kiss to his knuckles.
a sign of affection.
an act, a promise, of complete & utter devotion.
his pierced eyebrow raises slightly due to the suaveness of your actions. he tries to gather his bearings, his brain fuzzy with your actions — did you actually just do that?
suguru’s amber eyes widen significantly, soft black eyelashes fluttering like raven wings against the tan of his cheek that’s blushed with a hue of raspberry red. mouth slightly ajar in surprise, his silver lip ring glints like starlight in the sunset daze of the evening, while his pierced tongue is pressed against his own cheek to stop himself from becoming a bumbling, stuttering mess.
if he speaks — he wholeheartedly believes all that’ll tumble out of his lips will be unabashedly fervent divulgances of: “i love you. i love you. i love you.”
adoration blooms out of his ribcage like a meadow of daffodils, sweetness enveloping around his heart, soft ivory petals and sage green tendrils wrapping themselves delicately over his bones. he reckons that if you couldn’t hear his heartbeat hammering out of his chest before, you definitely can now.
it’s almost as if his brain is in clouds of cotton candy, his mind in a sweet haze of shock, love, & affection. he finds himself whispering airily, “why’d you do that?”
tenderly stroking away silky strands of ink-black hair that wisp around his ethereal face, the fond smile you grace him with is saccharine sweet, “i felt like it.”
unbelievably charmed, he can’t help the giggle that spills its way out through his mouth like honey, a syrupy-sweet sounding little thing. his shaky fingers cover his rosy lips slightly as he laughs bashfully. he’s a bit shy because of it, but you don’t think a sound has ever been so melodious to your ears. you’d get down on one knee to kiss his knuckles reverently as many times as he wants just to hear his laughter over and over and over again.
the way you see it, it’s as if you were put on this earth to devote yourself to him.
like a loyal knight kisses the ring on the hand of their king with the utmost veneration, you’d do the same. without question, worshipping the ground whereupon he stands like a faithful follower would do to a cult leader. you figure in all of the other multiverses, you’re ultimately doing the same thing as what you’re doing in this one: loving him — devoutly. earnestly. passionately.
if the look of ardent rapture on your face is anything to go by, suguru might faint with the rush of pure love & endearment that flows like nectar throughout his veins.
he feels his blush bloom over his warm face which rushes towards the tips of his pierced ears, a clear sign of you flustering him.
wanting to gain back some semblance of control of the situation, he puts on a poker face, a gentleness in his eyes & a fondness in his smile still shining through. his black-nail polished thumb grazes your soft wind-chilled cheek. a beacon of warmth. a caress of admiration accompanied with a well-maintained façade of smoothness. a comforting touch for the both of you.
“well, aren’t you just so sweet.” suguru can’t help the coo that escapes his cherry red lips when you look up at him with your precious doe eyes, “my pretty little baby.”
he softly pinches your cheek, admiring the soft plush. he cradles your cheek with the same hand, & carefully smoothes down your hair that’s been strewn around a bit by the evening wind with the other. suguru pats your head in a nurturing manner in the process, another fond coo escaping him when he sees you preen at the attention he gives you, affectionately watching you revel in the flattering treatment.
your eyes widen with joy, always keening with any praise he showers you with. “i’d like to think so! now come on sugu, your pretty little baby has a lil surprise for you!” you playfully wink at him, your smile beaming like sunshine.
your warm eyes map his stunning features reverently, memorizing his elegant visage. drinking in his otherworldly beauty. as if you could never get enough.
while you openly admire him, suguru does the same to you. he doesn’t think that he’s ever been this enamored by a human being before. you’re the center of his universe, and he can’t imagine his life without you. all he can see in this moment is: you. his intense gaze holds yours as he captures both of your cheeks in his warm gentle hands, enveloping himself in your space. the perfume he bought you for your birthday invades his senses, clouding his mind in a welcomed haze.
all he can think of at the moment is: you. you. you.
all he can repeat in his mind is: mine. mine. mine.
his eyes gleam with a newfound sense of desire, wanting to show you exactly what you mean to him. what you do to him.
his golden eyes that are now an onyx, dilated with desire, flit to your mouth. his thumb outlines your pretty lips that are begging to be devoured by his own. his right hand moves to cradle the back of your head, tilting your face up so he can comfortably take control. long, slender fingers splay across your hair, bringing you closer to him, slightly tugging the strands to hear and feel you gasp against his mouth. he presses his left hand against the small of your back, coaxing you further into his body, fusing you both together. not wanting to be even a millimeter apart. he just can’t get enough of you.
it’s like a magnetic gravitational pull when he presses a soft, sensual kiss against your glossy lips. the cold metal ball in his pierced tongue explores the wet cavern of your mouth, and he can’t help but moan softly into you, relishing in your warmth.
he prays to the stars above, hoping that he can convey his sincere love, desire, & admiration for you like this. he breathes life into you and you do the same to him. kissing you with such vigor & passion, he feels like melding your lips & souls together wouldn’t be enough. he burns with a hunger to become one with you. he pleads to the universe that the intensity of his desire and yearning is relayed to you — that you crave it, crave him as much as he craves you.
with the way he’s ravenously kissing you, and how you’re excitedly kissing him back, it seems like you certainly received the message.
suguru thinks it’s a little bit funny, but very much endearing, when you run around the living room like a bumbling fawn.
you zig-zag around the counter, making sure you pick up the purse that suguru got for you on your previous anniversary, an acrylic charm of your favorite anime character clinking against the metal fastenings. (another gift that suguru got you, begrudgingly he might admit, because who the hell is that toji fushiguro guy anyways…)
you double check that all the contents you need are inside: phone, charger, lip gloss, mini perfume, credit cards — AH! you run back to your room like a panther, not wanting to forget the most important thing you need for tonight!
he can’t help himself but laugh at your frazzled antics. “baby, you can calm down! we’re going on a picnic, it’s almost impossible for us to be late!” suguru admires your punctuality, he thinks it’s sweet how you never want to keep him waiting.
“FORGOT SOMETHING, I ALMOST DIED.” you rush back to him, big goofy smile on your face.
“baby… you’re heaving.” suguru covers his mouth, trying not to giggle out loud at how out of breath you are just by running a few feet. you’re so fucking cute.
“damn…” you huff out, hands on your knees, trying to get a deep breath in. “don’t call me out like that.”
he can’t help the laugh that bellows out of him, “sorry angel, now let’s go!” he places his large hands against your back, ushering you out the door quickly, “you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
walking you towards his black mercedes, he opens the passenger side for you. with both hands on your hips, you remind him that, “it’s a SURPISE!”
after around 45 minutes of both of you jamming out to your playlist in the car, poking his cheek while childishly asking “are we there yet?” just to annoy him for fun, and ultimately being a proper passenger princess who tells him to “just trust me!” when he asks where you two are going, you both arrive to your destination.
and the sight that he sees, enthralls him. he whistles, beguiled by the view. from here, he can see how pretty and bright the stars are, it almost looks like they’re twinkling a “hello!” at the both of you. suguru thinks to himself, a picnic here at night? he’s unbelievably mesmerized at how your brain works sometimes.
he turns to face you, watching how engrossed you are in your phone, tapping away incessantly. wanting your full attention, his fingers grab your chin gently to force you to look him. he jokingly purrs, “if you took me here to kill me, i’ll have you know… sitting on my face would be much easier. much more preferred.”
you raise your eyebrow questioningly.
“because… it’s dark and we’re in random clearing.”
you stare at him blankly. “okay, you’ve hung out with me waaaay too much because i literally said that pick-up line to you last week and now you’re blatantly stealing it… like a THIEF. and also? you drove us here. who the hell is gonna drive me back if you’re dead?”
his brows furrow and he pouts, annoyed that you didn’t fall into his arms and blush because of his (your) raunchy words. he turns away from you and opens his door to leave, brattily huffing out a, “hmph. shut up, dumbass.” with his head held up high in the air, he struts away pompously to the trunk, opening and closing it loudly. a picnic basket with food you both made together in one hand, and a soft quilt of constellations made by haibara & nanami for suguru’s previous birthday in the other.
how fitting.
you loudly snicker to yourself while getting out of the car, amused by your boyfriend’s spoiled antics. while suguru is front of you admiring the view and trying to find a spot to set up, you admire the view in front of you. whistling out a, “damn…” suguru scoffs at your flirty behavior and gives you the finger. you send an air kiss back, and he playfully swats it away.
when he turns away again, you smile to yourself dreamily. taking out your phone, you click a quick candid of him against the night sky, admiring at how he looks like a painting.
the cream of his sweater and the contrast of his cascading ink-black hair entrances you, the silver hairpin you got him during a couple’s trip to kyoto in the top of his bun. the dangling deep violet amethyst gem glints in the moonlight, making him look even prettier. he turns his head to the left, from here you can’t see his eyebrow piercing or his lip piercing since they’re both on the right side of his face, but you do see his eyebrow slit — a scar which you’ve softly traced over many times. his side profile allures you effortlessly, the angular bridge of his nose and the soft cupid’s bow of his lip offering up a beautiful contrast that is suguru: graceful yet strong.
shaking your head slightly, you break out of your trance.
you go back to the task at hand, opening your notes app and ticking off the word at the top of your list.
stargazing. ✔️
you remember suguru mentioned it in passing one day when you were both in the beginning stages of your relationship. it was on his date bucket-list ever since he could remember, and of course you wanted to be the one who would take him!
you guide him over to a little meadow overlooking the city. surrounding you both are beautiful moonflowers, their sweetness enveloping your sinuses. the air is cool and crisp, and in the distance you hear the faint chirps & buzzing of hummingbirds along with the faint caws of ravens. you’re proud of yourself that you were able to find a place this picturesque. (even to this day, you still have an urge to impress suguru in any way that you can.)
both of you sit on the quilt suguru sets down, the homemade cloth providing an extra layer of cushioning that you feel atop the softness of the grass.
you’re upon the hill clearing, close enough to the city that you can comfortably drive back while still seeing a few citylights from where you are, but far away enough that the light pollution wouldn’t interfere with the date you had planned.
“it’s pretty.” suguru glances at the view, praising you while taking out the tonkatsu sandwiches, pasta salad, & chocolate covered strawberries from your picnic wicker-basket. you pick up a bag of chips and start munching on it while he lays down on his back propped up on his elbows, opening up a banana milk to sip on.
“i’m glad you like it,” your words are muffled in between loud crunches and fast chewing, “i was worried we’d be attacked by a mountain lion or a swarm of bees or some shit.” you say honestly.
he blinks. “i wasn’t worried about that. but i am now.” he takes another sip of his banana milk in case it’s his last.
he sits up and picks up the tonkatsu sandwich, handing you the bigger half. “but seriously, how’d you find this place?”
you take the smaller half from his grasp instead, switching with him. taking a bite, you hum happily. suguru is such a good cook. he smiles at you fondly and you answer him, “i was searching up good places to look at the stars. out of all the pictures and reviews, this was the prettiest one.”
you look up at him and swear that you see an actual twinkle in his eyes.
“stargazing?” he pushes his bangs back behind his ear, leaning into your face. loudly repeating, “STARGAZING???” nose pressed against yours, an excitedly manic look in his eyes.
he throws his head back and waves his arms in the air, lamenting, “i should’ve bought a fucking telescope!”
he directs his gaze back towards you, pointing his finger at you accusingly while demanding, “we are coming here again in the future, okay? i’ll bring all of my astronomy gear: a telescope, binoculars, a constellation book, and oooooh! maybe i’ll also bring…” you unintentionally tune him out, looking at him adoringly with stars in your eyes.
this is what you wanted to see.
if you’re being honest with yourself, the best thing to experience in your life is getting to see suguru act genuinely excited. his eagerness to discover new things is infectious, and the man before you is the real suguru: dorky, eclectic, passionate.
the graceful, poised, & elegant man you see when he meets new people and the air of sultriness & suaveness he has when he takes you on fancy dates are utterly enchanting & beguiling, but you think that suguru you see before you now — the excitable nerd, is the most beautiful.
he flicks your forehead, breaking you out of your reverie. “have you been listening to a word i’ve been saying?” he scolds you while pinching your cheek extra hard.
“yeah, you want a telescope so you can look at the stars. also, you look really pretty… the stars ain’t got nothin’ on you.” you rest your chin in your hand, smirking at him, reveling in the blush that paints his cheeks. it was just the cold wind!, he’d tell you later while playfully smacking you upside the head.
you continue, “plus, it’s really hot when you’re all stern and tellin’ me off. what’s my incentive to listen to every word you say if i can get you scoldin’ me instead?” you tilt your head against your hand, grin wide, teeth bared. the masochist in you wants him to scold you even further.
he crosses his arms at you, muscles bulging out of his cream cableknit sweater. your eyes drink up the adonis right in front of you, mentally undressing him. “instead of hitting on me, how about i explain all of the constellations to you in extreme detail?” he purrs to you while biting his lip. he flips his hair over his shoulder, sultrily looking at you. you see right through him of course, knowing that he’s appeasing to your attraction to him just so he can ramble about ursa major, ursa minor, & the big dipper.
frankly. it works.
he holds his hand out to you. a truce.
you shrug. “if you do it like a hot stern professor, then sure.” you both shake on it.
he rolls his eyes playfully, trying to stop the smile that threatens to creep up on his face. “ugh. fine. be quiet and come over here.” he picks you up underneath your thighs and puts you in between his legs. your back pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. he kisses you on the head, appreciative of your indulgence of him.
you giggle cutely and move yourself down, laying your head in his lap while he softly plays with your hair. his lovesick gaze, fond smile, & warm thighs envelope your body, filling your senses with suguru. he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your forehead, an addicting contrast of his cold lip ring & warm soft lips electrifying your skin.
he pops a single chocolate-covered strawberry in your mouth, and you playfully nip his finger. he traces your lips softly and starts playfully lecturing you about the constellations that grace the night sky.
he excitedly points at a cluster of three bright stars, “and that is orion’s belt!”
you point at a bright star in the night sky a few lightyears away from it, grin unbelievably wide.
“i think you might be missing one, babe. and you call yourself the modern-day galileo. heh.” you playfully tease him.
suguru rolls his eyes, “okay first of all, i have never called myself that. second of all — excuse me?” his scoff is slightly haughty, & he can’t help the indignant laugh that escapes out of him. “alright, since you know so much — enlighten me then, what’s that one called?”
“hmm… i believe it’s sugurugeto-020390.”
suguru’s eyes widen ridiculously like flying saucers.
“what?”
you push yourself out of his grasp to pull out a certificate from your purse and hand it to him. you sit next to him cross-legged, gauging his reaction.
“trust me, i wish i could get a better name for it, but it turns out there’s a lot of suguru geto’s in the world.”
pausing for a moment, you want to make sure that your boyfriend knows that he’s the only suguru geto on your mind.
giving him bedroom eyes, you purr, “none like you of course.”
he blinks. “what?”
your face falls comically, and you pout, “that bright star in the sky is yours.” you point at it haphazardly. “you’re the light of my life, you illuminate my life, you’re the sole star and center of my universe, blah blah blah… so i figured… ya know…!” you gesticulate wildly, and in the moonlight suguru can see the slight blush on your cheeks. your eyes looking everywhere else but his own.
you’re shy.
he can feel the sinus pressure building up against his nose and the tears glaze over his eyes.
you scratch the back of your head, trying to save face. you quickly backtrack, “i know it’s a bit cheesy and honestly, technically, this was probably a scam, but i figured it was the thought that counts and–”
“shut up.”
you look up at him in a state of shock, “HAH???”
he grabs your cheeks, his silver rings cool against your face, and smashes his lips against your own, teeth slightly knocking against yours. in his excitement, he pushes you down and straddles you, pinning you down to the grass — his body a comforting weight on top of you. he kisses you breathlessly, moaning loudly in your mouth. you can both taste the fruitiness of the strawberry on each others tongues, your own being pressed softly against his piercing. you pull away softly, needing to take a breath.
and the sight above you is one you don’t think you’ll ever want to forget.
suguru’s seductive low-lidded gaze is locked on you, parts of his bangs wisped across his face from the momentum of pouncing on you. he’s breathing heavily, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat hammering against yours, his nipple piercings slightly poking into your chest. a rosy blush spreads itself on his cheeks like a strawberry jam, and you don’t think any view could compare to the one you’re blessed to see now.
his lips are red and glossy, aching to kiss you again. you nod softly, begging him to continue. he slots his lips back with your own, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before he bites down sensually, groaning loudly when he hears you whimper. he curls an arm underneath your body while kissing you passionately, bringing you closer to him, enveloping you into his space. all you can think about in this moment is: suguru. suguru. suguru.
pulling away once more, and peering deep into his amber orbs, you think that his eyes carry the most beautiful stars. a milky way of ochre and obsidian.
never casting your fond gaze aside, you intertwine your hand with his, bringing it to your lips, kissing each knuckle fervently.
his alluring gaze follows your devoted actions. butterflies brush their wings together inside his stomach, the flutter erupting throughout his whole entire being. he thinks that in the moonlight, underneath the canopy of stars that…
you are the most brightest.
the most beautiful.
the most meaningful.
“honey! i’m hoooooooome!”
you feel unbelievably ecstatic that you can finally get to see your dear boyfriend after two weeks of being apart!
you already have the whole day planned out, perhaps you two can get takeout from your favorite local restaurant and watch anime together! you giggle happily to yourself while thinking about how you both can snuggle and have a cozy day in.
you take your shoes, coat, & purse off by yourself, wondering if suguru is out. usually by the time you’re at the door, suguru is already there welcoming you back with a massive kiss and a “missed you baby.” softly whispered in your ear, especially if you go on a long trip…
hmm, that’s a bit odd.
now that you’re looking around…
the apartment is in complete disarray.
it looks like a tornado blew through the whole place.
you shuffle in further… and dirty dishes are piled in the sink, overflowing dangerously. suguru’s clothes, random knick knacks, and pillows are strewn about as if he threw them all in a fit of rage. crumbs litter the carpet and you see what looks to be dirt tracks on the floorboards. the laundry is stacked high and the air is stuffy, it seems like no windows were opened in the time that you were away.
worriedly, you run into your shared bedroom.
suguru is there, thank god safe & sound, but what you see breaks your heart.
he’s laid face down, the left side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow, black tear tracks staining the fabric… he must’ve cried on a day when he went out? the bedroom is filled with dirty clothes on the floor, and you’re pained to smell the stench of cigarettes in the air. it’s light… maybe he only smoked one… but the fact that he felt the need to smoke at all, shattered your soul.
especially considering he quit ages ago when he started dating you.
you walk towards him lightly, not wanting to scare him off. his eyes are open and he looks at you… but he’s not really looking at you.
“you alright there, precious?” you softly whisper.
a perfunctory question. you know he’s not. he knows he’s not. but you know he’s in no state to answer any questions that you have.
“mhm.” he hums quietly. lethargic, not even having the willpower to answer with anything but a light rasp.
you brush back his bangs, and he shudders. his hair is greasy, oil-black hair clumping together in some places, matted in others. his lips are slightly chapped, a bit bloodied no doubt from his habit of biting his lip when he’s anxious. his fingernails are no stranger to the same action, stubbed and jagged down to the nailbed, his black nail polish chipped. bright amber eyes which often have a gentle look in them have turned into a dull ochre, obsidian pupils overtaking his irises.
they’re still gentle because he’s looking at you… but if you’re being honest with yourself, his eyes remind you a bit of a black hole right now.
vacant of light.
you press a soft kiss against his forehead and leave the room momentarily, thinking to yourself if anything can be done about this situation.
you decide to shoot satoru a quick text, seeing if he can help you out a bit with what you want to do.
you breathe out a sigh of relief, a small smile gracing your face. you can always count on satoru. the man may be silly and eclectic, but at the core of his being, he’s someone who will always take care of and look out for his friends. he’s the type of person to drop anything to help those that he loves and adores.
(sometimes you think that satoru really was an angel put onto earth.) (but then you think that he was probably cast out of heaven for being a little shit.) (regardless, you still fucking love him for it.)
you walk back into the room, and lay your head against your pillow that is next to suguru’s. (it smells like him… he must’ve hugged it while you were away.)
cradling his cheek, you quietly say, “satoru’s also back from his business trip babe, he’ll be coming in about 10 minutes. how about you get a bit of sunshine with him, hmm?” he blinks slowly, nodding softly.
you hold his hand to help him up out from the bed, but he shoos you away, admonishing you slightly, “i can do it myself.”
you nod and leave him to it, mentally preparing yourself for the behemoth cleaning task ahead when he leaves.
suguru pads slowly into the bathroom and puts his hair up in a high ponytail with a hairtie he stole from you, not wanting to deal with it. he washes his face and gets a wet rag to pat down his body and underarms, not having the energy to shower. putting on a random black sweatshirt, he douses himself in your favorite cologne of his. he puts on your strawberry lip balm while popping a piece of mint gum in his mouth. with a tired sigh, he exits the bathroom, dragging his feet to where you are at the door.
he kisses your temple gently. you plant a soft kiss against his knuckles. you think your eyes deceive you when you see a semblance of a twinkle in his eyes. “love you baby. i’ll bring you back somethin’.” he rasps out softly.
even in his darkest times, even when his mind is playing tricks on him, he’s still thinking of you. wanting to take care of you. desiring to show his affections towards you in any way that he can.
you simply want to return the favor.
satoru arrives, wearing a crisp white button up and black tinted glasses, his snowy white hair shining like starlight thanks to the sunbeams that hit him. he hugs suguru gently, placing a soft kiss against his temples. suguru, dressed in all black just nods his head lightly at him. he’s not really interested in going out but knows that you two will force him regardless, reminding him that getting sunshine and looking at different scenery is important.
as they get into the car and back out of the driveway, suguru waves lightly at you, eyes tired yet gentle. satoru winks at you, proud & thankful that suguru has someone that cares so deeply for his mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing.
waving them both a goodbye, you go back inside and put on your cleaning playlist, ready to get started.
the first thing you do is open up the blinds and windows, wanting to air out the stuffiness that had built up over the past two weeks. considering the fact that suguru got a tinge paler and his undereyes looked sunken, you don’t think he got even a single beam of sunshine or any semblance of fresh air in the time that you were away.
padding over to the kitchen, you begin by doing the dishes. wearing your matching baby blue dishgloves, you get to work. it seems like suguru got anxious by seeing all the dishes piled up and started using some paper plates, which would explain the overflowing trash as well. the dishes are caked with food, but soften a bit by dousing them in water along with spritzing a powerwash grease-lifting spray. you sigh happily, glad that this will make it easier. after washing, drying, and putting away the dishes, you turn your attention to the kitchen surfaces.
you wipe down the counter and dining table in circular motions with a lemon-verbena spray, disposing of any old particles of food and random dust that lay upon the surfaces. already in your cleaning mode, you start to feel a little bit more energized.
opening up the refrigerator, you see that it’s been practically untouched. unfortunately, you gag when you smell rotting veggies and fruits, promptly rushing to your kitchen cabinet to get your trash bag to toss any old food away. you mentally remind yourself to get groceries in the morning, maybe if suguru is feeling a bit better after today you both can go together!
walking into the living room, you get your cleaning towel to beat the dust out of all the furniture. usually you & suguru both start with the bedrooms, but this time you figure you’d start with the living room as it’s in a bit of a better shape than the bedroom.
after you finish beating the living hell out of your cushions, you get to swiffering, mopping, and vacuuming — humming and singing loudly to suguru’s favorite songs on your shared cleaning playlist.
you go into the bedroom and start by gathering all of the clothes on the floor and the ones in the hamper to put inside the washing machine. you look around and do the same with the bedsheets and pillow cases, rubbing the eyeliner out of suguru’s pillowcase with some makeup remover first.
cleaning out all of the drawers, you make sure to throw away any random trash and only keep what’s necessary. clutter bothers both you and suguru, so you do your best to try and minimize that. you pick up empty bottles off the nightstand and throw them away. at least he drank a bit of water.
turning your attention to your bookcase, you wipe down the multitude of pictures of you & suguru that he put in frames.
there’s a few of both of you smiling after going on cute dates — suguru’s grin unbelievably wide while flipping off the camera and holding you close to his chest as you laugh loudly. there’s ones of you gazing at him adoringly, your love for him seeping out of the picture. there’s others of him looking at you — a soft fondness in his eyes, an even softer smile gracing his lips, his affectionate gaze tuning out anyone and anything else that isn’t you. both framed and pinned to the wall are multiple candids you two took of one another when the other wasn’t looking or paying attention, bursts of love immortalized in random moments of time.
you tell yourself that the sniffle you do is just because of the dust.
clearing your throat slightly, you look around proudly. you’re done!
you spray each room with a cotton spray, inhaling the fresh linen scent happily. you light up a teakwood candle that suguru bought a few weeks ago in the living room and put a sandalwood diffuser in the bathroom, freshening up the place. you take a well-deserved shower, feeling properly clean and accomplished.
by the time you’re done, it’s around 5:30 P.M in the evening and satoru texts you that they’re on their way and will be back home in approximately 30 minutes.
you get a can of sprite, his preferred soda, out from the fridge and put it on the counter. you decide to place an order for takeout from suguru’s favorite local spot, one that sells cold zaru soba noodles, his favorite food. you place another order at his favorite bakery for matcha crepes, his most loved dessert. the zaru soba will come within an hour and a half, but the dessert will come sooner so you also order a flower delivery too — a cute little surprise which will come within the same amount of time as the crepes.
you figure that you’ll also do the same for satoru, a little thank-you present for when he comes back to his own apartment. you order a bouquet of narcissus & holly for him, internally hoping that he likes it. you also order all of his favorite desserts from his favorite bakery! knowing that he will happily fill himself up on raspberry macarons, strawberry cake, vanilla mochi, chocolate donuts, & zunda cream kikufuku to his heart’s desire.
walking back into the bathroom, you get the most important part of your night started.
suguru finds his heart a bit lighter when he comes back to your shared home. he didn’t want to admit it to satoru… but he actually had a fun time eating, shopping, and listening to his hilarious stories about his shitty business trip. he’d be lying though if he said that he wasn’t most excited to see you after a long, eventful day.
in his hand are a bunch of shopping bags from stores that satoru dragged him to — clothes from your favorite stores, accessories & bags that you most wear, shoes that you need, books & knick knacks that you like — all for you. he bought a few for himself of course, but he mainly wanted to spoil you. he can’t help the small smile that creeps up on his face when he thinks about how excited you’ll be to see the gifts he got you.
thinking back on it, the guilt and shame he felt in his heart when you first saw him earlier today ate him up. he didn’t even know why he was feeling the way he was feeling so strongly. it was coincidence that it coincided with your trip, and he made sure that he would sound fun and happy over text as to not worry you. it wasn’t until a few days from when you were actually set to arrive that he didn’t even have the energy to talk or text you.
hell, he didn’t even have the energy to keep the apartment tidy or keep himself in check either. another pang of guilt hits him like a freight truck. he concludes that he’ll give you a spa day so he can clean everything up, not wanting you to worry about the mess he made.
he knows from the bottom of his heart that you’d never judge him or make him feel small for feeling the way he felt, he just feels so bad that he couldn’t even muster up the energy to greet you the way you deserved to be greeted. to kiss you. to hug you. to have a delicious dinner together and snuggle with you.
but no. after a long trip you had to come home and be worried for him. have the apartment be in disarray, have to see him be in disarray. fuck, you were worried enough to call up satoru.
he swears to himself that he’s gonna make it up to you. he swears that–
oh?
what?
suguru’s eyes widen, hands weakly dropping his shopping bags on the floor.
the entire apartment, top to bottom, is spotless.
dishes done and put away. dining table clean. living room tidy. is that… a bouquet of daffodils, his birth flower, on the counter? he also sees the bag from his favorite bakery right next to it too…
he walks around, astonished, at how you’ve made the apartment look brand new.
he reaches the bedroom and sees that the bed is made. his clothes have been clean, dried, and put up in hangers inside his closet. the nightstand, dresser, and bookcase all spotless and wiped free of dust.
a fresh smell envelopes his sinuses. he swallows the lump in his throat. did you smell the single cigarette he smoked? it seems like you aired out the whole apartment. in front of him is a beautiful sunset that waves at him from outside. a sunray beam kisses his cheeks. suguru blinks and feels something wet trailing down his face… it tastes salty on his lips. but feels so warm and sweet.
“suguru?” your angelic voice calls to him.
he turns around and sees you. fresh and clean, a beacon of warmth and illumination. a light blush dusting your cheeks no doubt from all of the hard work you’ve done.
“i ran you a bath. you up for it?” you tilt your head cutely at him, a silent plea in your eyes for him to agree.
feeling like his voice will betray him if he speaks, he nods softly. grabbing his hand, you take him to your shared bathroom, also totally spotless. your hands are soft and small in his, warm for once, because of you taking a hot shower and checking the temperature of the water for suguru’s bath. a sandalwood scent envelopes his nose, no doubt from the diffuser you put inside. he sees the romantic candles and rose petals around the bathtub and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face.
“for me?” he rasps, a teasing tilt to his voice.
“always. everything and anything i do will always be for you.” you say it seriously. genuinely.
to you, it’s a vow. an oath.
his eyes widen slightly, but he closes them momentarily, not wanting any more tears to spill. he crinkles his eyes and smiles at you softly.
“you joining me?” he undresses, taking off his sweatshirt and t-shirt. showcasing his tan skin, toned abs, & muscles. his nipple piercings & belly button piercing are on full display and he giggles lightly as you ogle at his body, watching your eyes trace his numerous tattoos & piercings, absolutely mesmerized.
“maybe next time,” you smirk, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “figured i could do a little pamper session, is that alright with you?” you ask him caringly, wanting to make sure that he’s comfortable with it first & foremost.
he fears that if he speaks any louder than a whisper, the love that overcomes him will drown his airways. he rasps out a small, “yeah.”
always. anything and everything you do will always be right for me.
he gets into the bath and you try to not let your eyes trail down, instead focusing your gaze on his dragon tattoo that encompasses his entire back along with the mythological japanese creatures that trail up his arms and ribcage like tapestry. you see one of your favorites, a black and white beta fish upon his ribs, submerged underneath the water he’s in.
from this angle, you can also see your name that he tattooed behind his ear. smiling to yourself, you sit behind him, ready to begin the pamper session.
his sloshes the rose petals around with his fingers. the water is warm, is his first thought. i wish you were in here with me, is his second.
your fingers stroke his hair softly, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then you get to work, vigorously rubbing in his lavender shampoo. he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. for some reason anytime you two would take baths or take showers together, you would always wash his scalp aggressively. “this is how i wash my hair sugu! what’s a little run through gonna do? we gotta keep clean!” did clean mean damn near ripping out his hair follicles? possibly.
he’d never stop you or scold you however, he thinks it’s hilarious and an endearing trait of yours. when he washes your hair he makes sure to be as soft and careful as possible, almost lulling you to sleep. when you wash his hair however, it’s like you’re turbowashing a pickup truck. he figures this time he’ll give you a pass (he always does) considering that he doesn’t think he’s washed his hair in around a week and a half.
“gonna rinse now, okay?” he hums quietly, closing his eyes.
this almost feels like a purification process to him.
you lather shampoo in his hair once again wanting to do a double cleanse, this time a bit more softly. you massage his scalp, and he tips his head back. you start from the crown of his head, working in circular motions, using your fingertips. then you go to the roots of his hair, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering, pressing and lathering.
you push his head forward slightly so you can clean the back of his head too, massaging the pressure points in his scalp. you were always a good masseuse, therefore a deep sigh escapes him, tension leaving his body by the second. (this might be the first time in two weeks where he’s been able to breathe comfortably.) you run your fingers throughout the clean strands of his hair, humming a little tune to yourself.
“they called me.” your hands still for second, but resume back to carefully twisting the water out his silky black hair. you stay quiet, knowing that when suguru speaks he prefers to get it all out there first.
“must’ve been like, what, two days after you left?” a humorless laugh escapes him. “they always know when to fuck up my mood. i swear.”
he sighs tiredly. “they went on a whole spiel about how i need to come back home and find a ‘real job’ as a hotshot lawyer or some fancy businessman, as if i don’t run my own tattoo parlor. as if i’m not also a real fucking businessman. like, do they think i don’t make any money? that i can’t comfortably take care of us both?” he rolls his eyes, getting annoyed again just thinking about how long the same repeated conversation had gone on.
suguru’s family is relatively well-off. he’s genuinely thankful that both him & satoru never had to worry about how to put food on the table or be worried about not being able to spoil the people that they loved.
it’s just that his parents were angry that their picture-perfect little boy wanted to spread his wings… see a world that had more to offer than quiet dinner table meals filled with tension and pointed jabs at one another guised as “caring advice.”
their image of suguru started to get distorted when he first showed up on their doorstep with his gauges. an act of rebellion. he could’ve worn small simple diamond studs but he wanted to make an impression: i’m my own person. even as a 13 year old boy, i can make this decision on my own. he remembers the way his father said he looked foolish. how his mother held her hand over her heart, in shock that her little baby boy had tainted himself in such a manner. what would others say?
suguru remembers looking in the mirror after the whole fiasco & thinking: god… they’d say i look so fucking cool.
then it started with sneaking out to go on late night drives with satoru, shoko, nanami, & haibara. they’d jam out to random songs on the radio, get slurpees & snacks, and sit in satoru’s car just talking about life and their future for hours. suguru still remembers the way his bangs wisped across his face, the crisp night air purifying his soul, the stars in the sky illuminating the landscape. the world seemed bigger those days and the gang were enjoying their teenage years. enjoying their youth.
he remembers coming home, his father waiting for him on the couch, pointing to the seat next to him, forcing suguru to sit down. his father’s arms crossed, black turtleneck making his muscles bulge slightly out of his sweater, his specs on the bridge of his nose making him look so serious. suguru found it easy to make eye contact with everyone in the world, but with his father he couldn’t help but look away sometimes… so he redirected his gaze to the tiny delicate beauty mark near his fathers right eye. a small little thing that made his father look a bit more… prettier. nicer. less daunting.
“where were you?” the timbre of his father’s voice rattled his bones. he muttered those three words quietly, but it still shattered suguru’s eardrums regardless.
“out. with my friends.”
he scoffs. “some friends they are.” a deep resounding ring of utter disappointment comes from his father’s words.
suguru sneers at the man, pissed that he would even think to disrespect suguru’s choice of friends like that. “yeah, they’re the best.” not an ounce of sarcasm lacing his words. his own mood dampened, nevertheless.
he recalls stomping all the way upstairs and slamming the door with all his might. sitting on his bed and resting his head against the window pane, eyes looking up at the same stars he saw when hanging out with his friends.
the stars seemed so far away from suguru’s room.
the world looked so big. suguru felt so small.
then one day, months later, suguru kissed a pretty boy. he can’t quite remember his name anymore, just that his lips were soft and his eyes were kind. suguru’s parents found out. his dad was surprisingly fine with it… he just assumed it was a phase, he went through the same thing as his son did when he was his age. his mother however… she just acted like it never happened the next morning. as if it wasn’t just a part of who he is.
his parents thought he was rebelling for the sake of rebellion. in actuality, it was suguru’s true self coming out. he was just getting more comfortable in his own skin. he was tired of being the picture perfect beauty who always was demanded of being polite, poised, & graceful. it was always too easy for him to put on a fake smile and manipulate others into doing what he wanted for the sake of his family’s reputation, it’s what he was taught. being at that house, it felt like he was kept on a tight leash, restricted from living his life. he felt caged like a bird…
but he just wanted to be free.
all he wanted was to just truly be himself in this world.
a kiss against his scalp breaks him out of his reverie.
right… he was here with you. he doesn’t have to spiral or worry anymore. you’re here. with him.
you’re here, you’re here, you’re here.
he shudders softly, taking your hand, holding it tight within his grasp. anger laces his next words, “they also said it’s time i get into a ‘real relationship’. whatever the fuck that means.”
you giggle. you know that his parents aren’t too fond of you. you’re not exactly of the same… class or status as them. at least that’s what suguru’s mother told him.
he huffs out a single dry laugh, “i’m glad you’re giggling about it because i nearly popped a fucking blood vessel screaming into my phone when they said that shit.”
“my protector.” you coo to him.
a light blush tinges his cheeks. always.
he presses a kiss against your palm. “i think it just made me… spiral a bit, y’know? reminded me of when i was kid and they made every little decision for me. i mean i’m a fucking adult now — i can decide what i do, who i wanna be, and who i want to be with.”
so when he got that phone-call from them on that day he was supposed to go to some rock concert… he did the one thing he promised himself he’d never do again. he lit a cigarette, and cried his eyes out into his pillow.
while sobbing, he remembered when he was in his early twenties and he’d sleep around with anyone and everyone, smoke blunts & cigarettes, go bar-hopping… do everything the picture-perfect pretty boy would never be allowed to do under his parents roof. his family just made him so miserable that he would do anything to not think of them.
he heard your voice in his head, reminding him, that instead of continuing on that self-destructive streak, he got his shit together. art & drawing was always his safe haven, so he found himself an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor, getting a job as a piercer and ultimately working his way up to being a tattooist. he owns his own place now — all his hard work & effort paid off.
his mind travels back to you. his true love.
ever since the moment he met you, he was mesmerized by your beauty, your personality, and your loving words & actions.
suguru’s heart and sobs only calmed down when he thought of you. his beloved. his angel. his reason to be. he hugged your pillow a bit tighter that night, imagining it was you.
“i’m proud of you, you know.” you say it so genuinely that it tugs on his heartstrings, making his heart skip a beat.
“you’ve been through a lot of shit with your parents, but at the end of the day, you chose to follow what your heart desired — not whatever they wanted. you’re successful in what you do and you made the right decision. it doesn’t matter what the hell they say, because they don’t know the effort and time it took you to get where you are.” you say it so passionately, that suguru believes every word that comes out of your mouth. his heart racing, thankful that somebody fucking understands him.
“you’re kind. you’re caring. you’re so unbelievably loving. you’re always looking out for others and helping anyone that needs it… you’re a good fucking person, suguru. i hope you know that and realize that. it doesn’t matter what anyone else says, you are good. what you do is good. who you are is good. it’s an honor to be able to love you and be with you. i hope you know that.”
for the first time in a while, suguru turns around and really looks at you. the way you bare your soul to him so effortlessly, the way you smile so sweetly at him, the way you make him feel like he’s your one true love.
“i’m so thankful for you. i love you… and i want to be with you, too. always.” his voice breaks a little, overcome with emotion.
suguru hugs you tightly, neither of you caring about the wetness on your clothes. suguru puts his entire spectrum of feelings towards you into the hug — an apology, a thank you, and a proclamation of love.
voice a bit shaky, he laughs, “sorry for getting you all wet. i know how much you hate drenched clothes.”
“you apologizing for getting me wet? now that’s a first.” you purr playfully, glad to see him in better spirits.
a loud laugh bellows out from suguru, deep within his gut. he kisses your lips preciously, and sits back down in the water, urging you to continue.
the mood now is far lighter. the air thick with a sweet steam.
you rinse his hair and gently put his lavender conditioner through his hair. massaging it in, running your fingers through his silky smooth strands. you put his hair up in a clip for a few minutes to let the product soak in. he washes it out himself while you start the shower, making sure you put in his favorite honey-almond bodywash. he gives you a silly yet oddly sultry show when he lathers himself and he promptly comes out, steaming and refreshed. you help him do his skincare routine, softly rubbing each and every product into his skin. he towels off and sits down, hairbrush in his hand, looking at you.
“here, let’s do this first.” you blow dry his hair, taking your time and allowing suguru to lull his head back onto your front, the soft black tresses of your beloved’s hair feeling much more revitalized in your fingers. you then brush his hair, gently, carefully. the entire time, you notice that suguru’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling to himself. you kiss him on the top of his head, and he turns to kiss you back. eyes closed, his lips puckered…
but just then, the doorbell rings.
“OOH! perfect timing!” you scurry off. you leave a pouting suguru who huffs out a little “hmph.” annoyed that whoever was at the door took a very well-deserved kiss away from him.
he patters softly to the kitchen where you’re setting out cold zaru soba noodles for him along with a can of sprite and matcha crepes. all of his favorites.
you hold a bouquet of flowers. daffodils.
“for you.” you curtsy, a mirthful twinkle in your eyes. he graciously accepts them from you, a shy smile and light flush across his cheeks.
“thank you.”
kissing his knuckles you whisper, “anything for you.”
for once in his whole entire life, suguru doesn’t think he can bear to look you in the eye. your adoration is so unbelievably intense, it feels like it’ll burn a hole inside his heart. does he deserve so much goodness in his life?
“you deserve more than what i can give you. i’ll spend my whole life making sure you realize that, suguru.” you say to him honestly. “if you’ll allow me of course.”
he kisses you on the lips softly, hoping that you can feel how thankful and lucky he is that he has you. “likewise.”
he clears his throat. “okay, c’mon. i’m starving. i wanna watch that stupid anime and shit talk that hot guy you like on screen while we snuggle.”
“he’s the best character, suguru!” you huff indignantly. clearly he can’t be talking about thee toji fushiguro???
“babe. he SUCKS.”
he knows you so well, he muses to himself.
he knows how your breath hitches after he nuzzles his lips against the curve of your neck, that the skin is sensitive there, but not as sensitive as your right ear. he knows that because of the way your knees buckle as he whispers soft romances to you, intense shivers overtaking your body. he makes sure that his arm is always wrapped tender yet firmly around your waist when that happens, trapping you against his unyielding body.
he knows what makes you tick. on the rare occasion that you allow your emotions to overcome you, he knows how to comfort you. he leaves you alone for a few moments so you’re able to gather your thoughts & assess your bearings, and then he invites you into his warm embrace. he lets you lay your head in his lap as he strokes your hair gingerly, easing your soul with both honest and kind words. adorning your face with soft kisses and even softer caresses. a cocoon of protection.
it seems like these days, however, he hasn’t had a proper grasp on you. you can’t hide a single thing from him, he knows that you would never willingly do so either.
it’s not like you want to anyways — not that you intend to, at least.
but it’s an aching feeling in his chest, nonetheless.
earlier in the week, you’d softly shut your bedroom door whenever you saw him, pretending as if you couldn’t see each other… as if he wasn’t there. it’s moments where he found you haphazardly digging for shit in your drawers, tucking whatever it was into your pockets and padding away softly to your room. you’d stay in there for hours, only coming out when he knocked on your door to tell you dinner was ready. he heard lots of rustling and you pretended as if you were just chilling in there, as if nothing was going on. sometimes when he knocked on your door to see what you were up to, all he heard back was an “i’m busy, baby! i’ll be out soon!” then it became even more odd, you’d quickly shut off your phone whenever he came into the room and would plaster a bright smile at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
he sighs to himself. he trusts you. he loves you. he knows you’re not doing anything heinous.
but… why won’t you tell him what’s bothering you? don’t you trust him to fix whatever is wrong? it eats away at his mind & soul that you think you have to hide whatever it is that’s taking you from him. don’t you know that he’d drop anything for you? that’s what being in love is for, right?
his eyes peer at you from the couch, studying you. he calls out to you softly, “angel. can we talk, please?”
a statement posed as a question. he knows this. you know this. you answer regardless.
“sure.”
you walk towards him, intentionally adding a lackadaisical swagger to your steps. to fool him. you know it won’t, he knows it won’t. but suguru isn’t anything if a man who doesn’t indulge his beloved.
he pats the seat next to him on the couch. inviting. as if he’s giving you a choice, even though you know you have none at the moment. “sit next to me, my love.” his smile is taut like a string, amber eyes shut closed so you don’t bear witness to the tears that threaten to spill.
he knows you’re hiding something.
he doesn’t like not being in the know.
is it something he did?
is it something you did but are too afraid to tell him?
since when were you afraid of him?
were you always–?
in the few seconds it takes you to sit down, a myriad of questions race through suguru’s head, creating a spiral of untamable negative thoughts. you would talk to him if something was wrong, right? you both have a healthy communication and always talk things over with each other… so what’s different now? do you not trust him?
suguru chastises himself, thoroughly.
of course you wouldn’t want to speak to someone like him.
always the overthinker. always the nagging negative nancy. always the manic-depressive.
sometimes suguru fears that he acts more like a father to you rather than a boyfriend.
that he’s a bit suffocating. too intense. very overbearing.
a warm hand engulfs both of your small, cold ones. he hopes that it comes off as sweet, as caring. because he himself is sweet and caring.
at least he hopes he comes off like that.
“is everything alright, sweetheart?” a soft whisper. he speaks placatingly to you like you’re a newborn fawn and any loud noises or large movements will make you jolt and run away. “i feel like… you’ve been avoiding me recently. and…” he takes a deep breath. “listen, i don’t know if it’s something i did, but you need to tell me, okay? you have to tell me so i can make it better.”
he thinks he sounds nurturing. kind. paternal.
he also thinks he sounds so fucking condescending.
he closes his eyes and a picture of a man darts across his eyelids like an overdeveloped photo.
strict, heavy-handed, cutthroat.
paternal and protective to a fault. a man who was always “right” even when he was wrong.
an “apathetic” man who bore a child who thought too much – felt too much.
a flash of a sophisticatedly handsome man with obsidian shoulder length hair, serious low-lidded eyes, and a firm closed mouth sears itself across suguru’s brain like a charred photograph.
he flings away the afterimage as quickly as it came. pretending as if he never even thought of it.
he gulps, swallowing the fireball in his throat. god, he really doesn’t want to be like… him. having a majority of his features is enough, he does not want to inherit that man’s personality.
suguru absentmindedly rubs the slit in his eyebrow, his grip unintentionally tightening on your hands. he releases moments after, not wanting to cause you any pain.
“everything is fine with me sugu, i promise you.” you reassure him. “it wasn’t my intention to avoid you or make you feel like you did anything wrong… i am so sorry if it came off like that.” you answer him honestly. your head is tilted to the side like a little puppy, brows furrowed, upset that you made him feel like you were trying to get away from him.
“no, no no no no no, baby it’s not your fault.” he quickly grabs your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. he brings you against his chest, hugging you tightly. “don’t apologize honey, i’m sorry… i just got into my head a bit.” he quickly placates you and kisses the top of your head. you shouldn’t be the one to suffer because he started to anxiously overthink and spiral.
he looks at the time on his watch. it’s a few minutes past midnight. you both should go to sleep… maybe you can talk it over in bed or in the morning with clear heads.
you exhale softly, shaking your head faintly. you press a delicate kiss against the corner of his lips. telling him, “give me a sec.”, you walk over and into your room.
he nods and watches you saunter away, putting his head into his hands. god… him and his big mouth… he sighs, anxiety crawling up his throat once more. he really didn’t want to upset you or anything, he angrily tells himself to apologize to you when you get back.
hearing you shuffle closer to him, he lifts his head.
in your hands is a… huge book?
“i wanted to give you this tomorrow… well technically today, but i guess it doesn’t really matter.”
he tilts his head, confused. you present him with the thing you’ve been working so hard on.
you smile at him so softly, he thinks that his heart is about to burst. “happy birthday, suguru.”
birthday…? oh god, it is his birthday.
he gently takes the present from you… it’s a scrapbook.
“don’t look at it in front of me! okay, bye!” you quickly sprint into your room, not wanting to be in the room when suguru looks at such a personalized present.
blinking, he grabs his reading glasses from the coffee table, and opens the book, flipping through each page carefully.
photobooth pictures, polaroids, kodak film pictures, movie tickets from your dates, admission tickets from amusement parks he’s taken you to, and multiple candids of both him and you - many of which he hasn’t seen.
one of them looks awfully familiar… did you take this the day you took him stargazing in the meadow? his fingers brush against his trembling lips, trying to stop himself from sobbing.
is this what you were doing?
he feels so stupid.
but god… does he feel so fucking loved.
you’ve immortalized every single moment of your relationship with him. nothing being too small for you to be excited about, carefully keeping everything.
he sees the little pressed flower of a daffodil enclosed in wax paper on one of the pages, probably from the first time you gave him a bouquet. the first time anyone has presented him with flowers without wanting anything in return. when asked about the occasion, you simply shrugged and said “just felt like it” & then quickly kissed his knuckles, zooming out of his apartment to run errands. he remembers how bashful he felt. how thankful he was. how loved that experience made him feel.
he moves his glasses upwards, wiping the tears across his lashline and the ones that stream down his face. he clears his throat slightly, and continues flipping the pages. you’ve drawn little doodles (things that he’s already planning to get tattooed on him simply because they came from you) and you’ve written beautiful, personal messages. encapsulating your adoration for suguru in the margins — genuine words filled with your love, devotion, and admiration for him.
he sniffs loudly and tries to wipe his face the best he can. he tenderly calls out your name, beckoning you over to him, and you get up out of your shared bedroom to pad softly into his open arms.
“my love.” he stands up and walks over to you midway. he hugs you so tightly while pressing your head against his beating heart, his arms protectively enveloping you. the space between you two is nonexistent, and suguru surmises that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
conveying his thankfulness and love to you, he sweetly says, “my sweet, sweet girl.” a soft kiss pressed against your hair, “my heart beats for you, forever and always.” from anyone else it’d sound cheesy, but from suguru… you know he means it from the depths of his soul.
“my little dove.” he coos so fondly, sweet candied sugar dripping from every syllable. he holds your face in his gentle hands, openly divulging his admiration for you, “you’re so precious to me, you know that? i love you. i love you. i love you.” a tender kiss pressed against your soft lips between each proclamation of adoration.
you smile graciously, thankful and relieved that he adores your present and that he especially adores you. you knew out of any of your presents that you were going to give him today, that this would be the most meaningful. suguru has always been the ultimate sentimentalist, and you wanted him to know that you care for him so deeply. that you love him. adore him. that your heart beats only for him. pushing back a black tendril of your true love’s hair behind his ear, you kiss him gently. both of your lips fitting together perfectly — like a lock & key.
you bring his knuckles upon your lips, preciously kissing his promise ring, ensuring to him that your love and devotion runs deep, deeper than anything in this world.
“i love you too. happy birthday, my love.” his hands are so gentle. his face is so sweet. suguru… your one true love.
if you asked suguru to describe you in three words, he’d say you were: devoted. loyal. loving.
he has four more of his own on the tip of his tongue that he’ll ask to you when he musters up the courage.
with a soft kiss upon the ring on your knuckles, and an even softer smile upon his lips, he lovingly breathes out, “私はあなたを永遠に愛します”
#geto suguru x reader#getou suguru x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#belated b-day fic for my beloved ON valentine’s day… i’m a lover to my CORE. never think otherwise#if you listen to the song there are some callbacks to the lyrics in this fic itself :’) if you read this thank you & i hope you enjoy! :D#i edited the geto pic myself are you proud :3 fixed his hair + made it clear + spruced up the coloring <3 anything for MY man#my writings#personal
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Hey I’d like a request 👉🏻👈🏻
Can I please have headcanons on how the lin Kuei brothers + Liu Kang and Raiden would react to catching their s/o in their clothes?
OOO my first request, thanks anon 🫶
I went a little diff with this, I hope you don’t mind 🧍♂️
Warnings: nothing really, scent kink?? In raidens?? But very minor
Bi-Han
• Wonders what in the hell you’re doing.
• Finds himself wanting to see if you’d put more of his uniform on. Depending on if you put it right or wrong, he’d show you the proper way.
• Not that it mattered because he was sure he’d take it all off after anyway.
• Stares in silence as he takes in your appearance, arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. It’s even more difficult to tell what he’s thinking bc he’s wearing his mask. He had walked in on you cleaning your bedroom. You had found some of his spare things, wearing his arm bands and gloves just to see how they’d fit. He studies you and the way you admired the fine details.
• Feels something stirring in his chest as you twisted and turned your arms, the gloves having to be readjusted since they kept sliding down a bit.
• Eventually walks up to you, his sudden looming presence over you causing you to jump in surprise. You barely have time to say anything before he gently but firmly grabs your jaw in his large hand.
“What is this? What are you doing?” His voice is gruff, so deep that you feel is vibrate throughout your sternum. You can’t help but stare in his dark eyes, getting lost in their depths as you try to think of a response.
“I was just… trying them on.” You finally reply, your voice low and meek.
He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes trail down your arms and then back to your face that was still being held by his hand.
“They suit you.” He runs his thumb over your lips, bringing it down to pull on your bottom one and drag over your chin. You can see something swirling in his eyes, something making a heat bloom in your stomach. He adjusts his grip on your jaw, grabbing you a bit tighter.
“Remove your clothes… but leave these on.”
Kuai Liang
• Keeps a neutral expression, but inside he’s entertained.
• Stands back and observes how you fidget with his mask to make sure it’s secured right.
• When he sees you pick up his kunai that’s when he gets a bit more alert but trusts that you have enough sense to not hurt yourself.
• Has an amused smirk on his face as he watches you click his mask into place and begin to gently twirl his kunai in a circle, arching your body away to not get nicked.
• He’s ready to step in if he sees you start to get out of hand but otherwise he’s enjoying you pretending to be him. He wonders briefly how you would look in his entire uniform and the thought has his smile grow just a bit more.
• Thinks about how his signature color of yellow would look a little too good against your skin and clears his throat before walking up to you.
“Shall we get you a mask of your own?” He mirths, a twinkle in his eyes. He grabs the kunai from you, adjusting it in your hands to have you hold it properly.
“Nah I quite like stealing and wearing yours.” Your voice is a bit muffled from his mask, eyes crinkling in the corners as you don’t even try and hide your smile.
His eyebrows raise, a quiet ‘oh’ on his lips before grinning. He tilts your head up with a knuckle under your chin, leaning down to whisper something in your ear.
“Maybe I will use it to silence you tonight.”
Tomas
• Contrary to popular belief I think he would be a bit more serious when it comes to you putting his uniform on. His uniform is a symbol of his honor and dedication to the Lin Kuei so he wears it with pride and doesn’t necessarily want you to wear it ‘just for fun’. Especially since he feels he has more to prove to his brothers.
• Taps his fingers against his crossed arms as he watches you adjust the top on yourself, running his tongue over his teeth when he sees you putting it on wrong. Goes up to you to help you put it on right, tugging it down and securing the straps. He’s not exactly gentle as he fixes it.
• You can see that he’s tense but all it takes is one soft look and he’s letting his shoulders relax and letting out a breath.
• You smile up at him and he takes a moment to look at you, taking in your features before dropping his gaze back to his uniform top.
• He’s more tender as he adjusts it, his fingers brushing against your skin. And when he goes behind you to check everything, he leans in close to your ear.
• His hands come around the front to pat you down, making your cheeks heat up a bit.
“You look good moje láska. Almost like a true Lin Kuei.” His voice is low and hot in your ear, a shiver running up your spine. He backs up and you turn around, taking in how he stands with his arms crossed, chin pointed up and out, light grey eyes shining brilliantly.
“I should put on the rest of the uniform then, huh?” You laugh, swallowing to sooth your suddenly parched throat. His aura changed, filling the air with a thick tension. He shakes his head, putting a hand up.
“Don’t bother, I’m going to take it all off anyway.”
He turns his hand palm up, silently demanding for yours and of course you comply. He tugs you to him, placing his hand on the small of your back as he takes his gaze up and down your body.
“I will teach you the true strength of a Lin Kuei.”
Liu Kang
• More laid back when it comes to this.
• Loves that you allow him to have these simple little moments with you, being a god doesn’t always give him the grace of having memories like these.
• He’s got a full grin on his face as he walks in on you wearing his headband and slipping your arms through the sleeves of his top.
• He can’t help but quietly chuckle as he watches you struggle to try and button it up, a thoughtful hand on his chin in amusement.
• He stays silent as he continues to observe you, biting back his laughter as you manage to get one button but then it immediately pops open.
• This time he makes his presence known, walking up to you to kiss your cheek and help with the buttons.
“You know this is meant to stay open, yes?”
You laugh and nod, feeling a small heat on your cheeks now aware that he was watching you fumble with his shirt this entire time.
“Seems like a design flaw if there are buttons for something that wasn’t meant to be buttoned.
His fingers start to do them but you place a hand on top of his to stop his movements.
“Leave it open. I should wear it properly right?”
His smirk takes over his lips, his hands dropping back to their sides and he steps back a bit. He watches you turn around, a teasing glance over your shoulder as you slowly drop his shirt off your shoulders. His glowing eyes taking in every inch of exposed skin.
Once his top is hanging in the crooks of your elbows, wastes no time in pressing himself against your back and putting his lips on your cheek.
“Perhaps I should show you how to properly take it off next.”
Raiden
• Thinks you look cute no matter what but in anything of his?
• Feels his love grow for you tenfold
• He walks into your room after a long hard day on the farm, shirtless and sweaty and fanning himself with a menu had had taken from Madam Bo’s. He couldn’t find his hat in the early morning so unfortunately he had to work without it in the blistering sun.
• He was ready to ask if you had seen it but stops when he sees it sitting right on your head, twisting and turning your neck to check yourself out in the mirror. He’s confused at first, wondering why you hadn’t given it to him in the first place.
• Until you say that you wanted to surprise him and fix it up.
• Blinks at you in shock because he didn’t think it needed fixing/that you noticed it wearing down.
“You… fixed it for me? Really?”
You nod and he can feel the tips of his start to redden, your kind gesture warming his heart and making him a bit flustered.
“I noticed it coming apart in some places and wanted to patch it up for you.”
His eyes soften and he looks at his hat on top of your head, admiring the fine work you did on it. You go to take it off but he stops you, removing your hands from the brim.
“It looks good on you darling, leave it on.” His voice is soft and steady but he can feel the blood on his ears rushing to color the rest of his face.
You smile at him and kiss his cheek, breathing in the scent of him working outside all day. It makes heat stir in your belly, having you nose your way up his throat and to his ear.
“Maybe it can be the only thing I leave on later tonight.”
Your suggestion has him flustered, stuttering out a response as he tries to form a coherent thought.
#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#bi han#bi han x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#smoke#smoke x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#raiden#raiden x reader#my writings#tomas vrbada#scorpion#sub zero#asks
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Warm Me Up
Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.
Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.
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Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.
You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?
You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.
Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.
"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.
A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"
You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."
"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.
"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."
"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."
"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."
"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.
"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.
"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"
You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.
It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.
Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.
You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.
"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.
He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.
"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.
He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.
Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.
He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.
"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.
He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.
Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.
"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.
"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.
He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.
"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.
He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.
"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."
You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.
Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.
Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.
He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.
"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.
The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.
"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.
He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.
"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"
Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.
He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."
Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.
He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"
You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.
"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.
"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.
"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.
Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."
He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"
Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.
"Please!"
He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.
He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."
You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.
You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.
"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.
You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.
You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."
He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."
You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.
"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.
You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.
"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.
He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.
You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.
"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.
Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.
You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.
His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.
"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.
"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.
You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.
"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.
He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.
"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.
Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"
The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.
#rhysand x reader#rhysand x reader smut#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar smut#rhysand smut#fanfiction#i'm so downbad for this male as you can clearly tell#my writings
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The anti-kink moral crusade rests on a lot of transmisogynistic assumptions.
Of course it’s no surprise, since it rests on ideas from the moralizing arguments about bdsm made by radfems in the 70s. The only change is that they are being massively hypocritical and inconsistent about which kinks are bad now, as I pointed out before. Now it’s only certain kinks, like consensual non-consent and fauxcest, that are bad because they “fetishize abuse”, and not bdsm as whole, despite that being inarguably true about bdsm.
And that’s purely to broaden the appeal of such arguments, so that even self-described “leatherfags” can moralize about fauxcest. The morals and principles are frankly just “It’s okay if gay men call their boyfriends “daddy”, because I find that hot, but if a trans lesbian couples pretend to be sisters it’s evil.”
And you can’t really appropriate the radfem arguments about kink without taking their transmisogyny onboard, since they stem from the same transmisogynist bio-determinist root ideology. Janice Raymond in The Transsexual Empire explained trans women through a lens of pathological sadomasochism. Years before Blanchard’s autogynephilia concept, radfems have seen transfemininity and kink as the same thing.
The image of the trans woman painted by radfems then and now, is of privileged males appropriating the pain and suffering of real wombyn, and playacting this suffering for their own perverted sexual amusement. And that is the same image painted of trans women with incest and cnc kinks in modern callout posts. They just remove the explicitly terfy language to make it less obvious. Instead of making a mockery of misogyny in general, we are instead accused of mocking the experiences of the survivors of sexual abuse.
And that boils down to the same thing. Survivors of sexual assault are often as a group assumed to be afab. This ties into a specific transmisogynist discourse. It’s one that argues that afab children are more often sexually assaulted, and that trans women are not targeted by sexual violence pre-transition, and comes to the conclusion that this proves that trans women are male socialized and privileged. This is the fairly nasty transmisogynist undercurrent here.
And it’s proven when in discussions about the transmisogyny of callout culture, a common cliché line in response is that “clearly some people’s worst oppression is being told they are freaks for shipping incest.” This treats transfems as ultra-privileged and transmisogyny as not real at all.
Of course in reality, transfems are disproportionate targets of sexual violence even in childhood and pre-transition. And many survivors of childhood abuse have these problematic abuse-fetishizing kinks, and use it to deal with their trauma, including many of the kinky transfems being called out.
And even if no one involved in the sexual roleplay and fiction being criticized have trauma, the trauma of other non-involved people is not a good argument for its destruction. It’s a reasonable demand to ask for triggering material to be tagged properly so you can avoid it, it’s unreasonable to demand it shouldn’t exist.
Yet transfems are expected to accede to the latter demand. And I think this is because of what May Peterson calls transfeminized debt. It’s how we trans women in feminist circles are expected to be perfect women and perfect feminists to be acknowledged as women at all, instead of as monsters to be destroyed. Of course because nobody is perfect, this leads to every trans woman eventually being thought of as a monster.
We are treated as having to pay off the debt of male socialization/privilege to get basic human rights. And this in practice means conceding every disagreement with TME people, and agreeing to every demand they make of us. Or else we get the hot allostatic load treatment.
And that’s why kinky transfems are expected to fulfil the ridiculous demand from certain puritanical TME people that “I’m not involved in your kink, but I have trauma relating to it, so you can’t do it.” And are treated as evil monsters for not fulfilling it. It’s clearly transfeminized debt and transmisogyny, we are treated as privileged perverted monsters, inherently exempt from sexual violence. And that is used to justify sexual harassment, in the form of callout posts for our sex lives.
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Hey if you're reading this right now, you should really think about touching yourself. Just a light little touch. Just enough to get you all worked up. Get that heat pooling between your legs. Get you all excited and worked up. Breathing heavy. Soft little moans. Dripping. Heart racing. Vision clouding. Mouth watering. Desperate. Needy. Aching.
Good. Now share this so everyone else can get all worked up too. And if you're really good, you'll keep touching, getting yourself all worked up. Because good edge sluts make more good edge sluts.
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