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pucksandpower · 2 months

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It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

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feyascorner · 3 months

Text

Astarion would never admit it, but the charming lines he uses as a constant attempt to seduce you are not all his own.

He’s talented, he knows, at coming up with the heart skipping lines, describing in detail the massive amount of so-called ‘adoration’ he says he can give. He knows how to flirt, and he knows even better that despite the way you roll your eyes, he’s starting to wedge his way into your heart.

But sooner or later, ideas come to an end. And he’s starting to think you’re incapable of falling in love if he’s used all his lines and you still haven’t approached him. Perhaps you just don’t do romance. But hope wavers. Why he’s so adamant on wrapping you of all companions around his finger, he doesn’t know. He knows you’re the most difficult to seduce, yet he can’t help himself.

You’re almost like a drug to him.

So, unable to quit, he turns to his books. They’re sappy romances, and many of the lines even manage to make him scrunch his nose, scoffing at the sheer disbelief of how unrealistic some of the scenarios are. But hours upon hours later, he picks out some of the most upfront lines, because he’s sure you’ll just ignore him otherwise.

He knows you have little interest in romance, but he wants to entice you. He wants to be good enough for you to look at him.

“I must confess that the moment I laid eyes on you, everything in my body and soul told me you were the one.”

You stare at him, eyes lidded and barely fazed. Puzzled, he has no choice but to continue.

“My heart beats terribly, my beloved, whenever I see you bathing in the glory of the sun. My breath quickens, but vanishes when you get a step closer. My very existence, it seems, is meant to yearn for you,” he rattles off the lines of the book, as enticingly as he can, with eyes so seductive that they almost appear to glow. “Your beauty is unmatched with any other. If you asked, I would die—“

“—a million times in the thorns adorning my own desire,” you cut in, and his eyes widen. “The skies could fall and I would use my bloodied body to hold you up again, against the starry nights as a star gleaming brightest in its competition.”

As you finish the line, he blinks, completely and utterly confused. “How did you-“

“It’s my favorite book,” you confess sheepishly.

Astarion, for the first time, sees you as you are. He sees you as the being who yearns for love, just as a young maiden would yearn for their prince—perhaps even more innocent. He’s read you completely wrong, and he feels his throat close up. “It’s…it’s a childish one.”

Your cheeks burn, and he thinks you almost look cute. He rips away from the thoughts though, appalled at what he just considered. “I think it’s romantic.”

“No kind of love is so ideal.”

And while your face falls, you lift your head to look at him with squinted eyes. “…next time, just make your own lines—-or, at least, don’t choose ones that don’t fit you.”

“Don’t fit me? How so?”

“I doubt we would’ve fallen in love at first sight. You had a knife to my throat.”

“A loving knife.”

You stifle a laugh, and he swears he can’t take his eyes off of you. “Well…if you want, I have other books in my tent if you want to see…I have a few you might like, or at least, help.”

He just stares at you, only realizing moments later that you were awaiting an answer. “Ah, of course, darling. I’d love to accompany you. Perhaps I’ll learn a new line or two, though I doubt any writing has as much charisma as myself.”

You smile softly, nodding. “Okay then. Come over tonight after dinner, and I’ll show you.”

And as you walk away, he thinks that rather than him doing the charming and you falling irrevocably in love with him as it should have gone, your interaction has left him charmed instead.

It seems the romance novels are more than just effective at their jobs.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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priceyprice · 2 months

Text

Prof!Price

"Do you think the professor's hot?"

She stopped writing in her notebook, trying to process the question her friend asked. It was late at night, and everything was quiet around her. She was on a call with one of her friends from class, trying to do an assignment together since it was difficult doing it alone. They found out it was more efficient calling each other because they could share their notes and answers.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who else? The professor from literature." She tensed, chest tightening with that familiar but obnoxious feeling at the seductive tone she used to say professor from literature.

She dropped her pen in the middle of her notebook to pay full attention to her friend's words. "The professor from literature?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?"

She cleared her throat. Of course she's seen him. In fact, she has seen every part of him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh my gosh!" Her friend said in an annoyance tone, feeling frustrated she wasn't getting the point. But, she was obviously getting the fucking point. She just can't admit it out of the blue. "He's so hot. I know he's a serious man inside and outside the classroom, but hey, his face and his body... oh my, my... I would totally fuck a man like that."

Her face frowned upon the last words, looking at her friend's name from her phone —since the call was on speaker— as if she's in front of her. That uncomfortable feeling rose throughout all her body like a fountain.

Her friend was looking at the professor with other eyes than the academic figure.

She's pretty sure her friend is not the only girl with her panties wet for the professor from literature. Professor Price is a man who has charisma. His big bulk of a body and his electrifying blue eyes possess an aura that can either intimidate you or make you flustered. The way he talks with people with his low and calm voice, as if he's going to sing the most romantic tune, ever existed. Also, the way he walks, the way he dresses, the way he styles his beard... Everything from Professor Price screams perfection.

It's not difficult for someone to get attracted to the professor.

But stil.

She didn't like how other girls looked at him like he was the most expensive dish served on a silver plate, ready to be devoured. Even though his eyes only stayed on her, she was the only one who could look at him like that.

She was the only one who could actually devour that expensive dish.

She was jealous.

The phantom touch of rough hands around her ankles made her throw a little gasp while pushing the rolling chair backward. "Shh..." Her heart skipped a beat when she hears that low and rough voice beneath her. She looked down at her desk, just to find the protagonist of her conversation with her friend kneeling in front of her;

Professor Price.

He was wearing his usual attire for work. The only difference was his white long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned by the first few buttons, leaving a glimpse of his hairy chest and making him look like some sexy star magazine. His hair was slightly disheveled, probably by all the times he passed his fingers through it. His icy blue eyes were accompanied by some eyebags under it, revealing the tiredness he was accumulating within these days that had passed thanks to the amount of work and reunions he was receiving.

"What are you doing?!" She whispered-yelled taking a rebel strand of hair that went in front of her face when she moved her chair. His thumb caressed softly the skin of her ankles before pulling her to him again, earning a soft gasp from her parted lips. His face ended up resting on her right thigh, eyes closing to the warm feeling her skin radiates.

"'Missed you." He said, placing a soft kiss to her thigh, making her wriggle a bit at the sensation his lips left. "'Missed you so much." He started to leave a trail of soft kisses on her thigh as his hands worked its way to the back of her knees, opening her legs so he could have more room between them. His hands traveled to either side of her hips, taking the waistband of her shorts trying to pull them down.

Her eyebrows raised all the way up, almost comically, ignoring the burning feeling he was making inside of her and focusing on the panic when she realized what he was doing, quickly stopping him. "Wait, Price, we can't do that here." She said, placing her hands on either side of his head trying to separate his lips from her skin, but it was in vain. He was much stronger than her.

Price's hands grasped hers in a soft motion. His thumb caressed her delicate fingers. "Why not? We are in my home. Nobody's watching."

"I'm talking with someone, Price."

"Then be quiet, love." He said before continuing where he left, placing his hands on the waistband of her shorts, his fingers curling the fabric before tugging it down her legs.

Truth be told, Price doesn't give a fuck who is she talking to. He's too tired and consumed by all the work he had these past days, that he's left with nothing but the thought of her beautiful face bringing him the peace he needs.

They couldn't almost see each other within the university halls besides his classroom. His home too, where he'd often find her asleep on his couch or his bed because he was leaving late from the university's office. In the early mornings, he just kissed her a soft goodbye waking her up just for her to see his silhouette leaving the room to go and finish more paperwork he had left the day before.

A sigh could be heard from the other line of the call. "Too bad he isn't open enough to know his relationship status."

A little gasp escaped from her lips when she felt his hot lips put pressure on the wet patch that was starting to form in her soft underwear. A jolt of electricity passed through all her body when he placed another kiss in the same spot, making her jump slightly.

His lips turned into a smile. His hands started caressing the soft flesh of her thighs. "Answer her, love." he said before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the wet spot, passing his tongue through the fabric, feeling the rapid pulses of her pearl. She opened her mouth with a low moan as her hands found a way into his hair.

"Y-Yes... he doesn't... he doesn't let... anyone know."

She tried to calm her frenetic breathing from giving away what was happening on her side of the phone, but it was too difficult. Her back arched when his warm tongue put pressure on her sensitive bud, feeling the wet fabric caress it.

"P-Price, p-please." Her words were shaking in her throat along with a few moans. "What?" He asked, looking up at her beautiful face contorted in nothing but pleasure. Her hand puts a little bit more pressure on the crown of his head, as if inviting him to keep going. "T-Take it off."

"Your underwear?"

She nodded.

"No. I'll take it off when I want to."

He grasped her legs with both hands and threw them over his shoulder, now completely open to him. He rested his hands on her hips, looking at the —big—wet patch, now transparent where he could slightly see through her white underwear the outlines and the color of her folds and her pearl, pulsating against the fabric with desire. Price started at it as if he were a starved man with his last meal in front of him, waiting, inviting him to taste it.

That sent him goosebumps all over his body. His mind glowing with sinful thoughts made him almost blind from the desire.

"Keep talking with her, love. You don't want to let her know that the professor you guys are talking about is the same one between your legs." He said before diving his head again between her thighs.

His tongue made its way with her, taking big laps from her folds to her clothed bud, making her gasps now with full force on his short hair. "F-Fuck..."

"You know, sometimes I think he's married."

She opened her mouth to only let out a soft whimper. His tongue now moving easily with saliva and arousal pooled between her underwear.

"Y-You think so?" She threw her head back into the chair in a blinding pleasure. He was literally making out with her intimate area as if it was her mouth. Opened kisses and pressed his tongue all over her, caging her between his large hands like a lion with a bone between his paws.

He wanted to take her underwear off. Oh, he's been craving to see her bare since the second he stepped into his home. But he knows how loud they can be. He knows how loud the obscene sounds her sweet area makes. He knows the high-pitched moans she does when she's close. He knows everything from head to toe. And he can't risk the other person hearing those sweet sounds coming from her mouth and body.

Of course, he knows her very well.

She's his lover.

"Yeah! I mean, he doesn't look at the other female professors with other eyes than work." His tongue started to draw circles around her bud, sending shock waves through her stomach. Even with the underwear in the middle, she could feel his soft tongue in contrast with the hairs of his beard and mustache tickling her sensitive zone, along with the hairs of his cheeks grazing her inner thighs up and down everytime he licks her.

It was driving her crazy.

"But, there was a rumor."

She bit her lip, trying to stop a whimper rolling from her tongue before speaking; "R-Really? W-what rumor?"

"That he and the professor from marketing were dating." Before she even had the time to think those words and let that jealousy feeling rise up her chest, a chocked moan escaped her lips when she felt his tongue and underwear entering her entrance. Her hips buckled so fast to his face that the chair made a loud squealing sound.

"Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yes!" She said, sounding a little bit more high-pitched than normal. "I almost... fell from my ch-chair. D-Don't worry..."

"Oh, be careful... So, someone who's studying marketing told me that their professor was looking at him like..." Her friend really wanted to spill some kind of false tea, but unfortunately she lost the topic of the conversation the second his tongue was in her entrance, not even caring what was happening around her, only the man and the skillful tongue between her legs.

"Price..." She said when he returned to her now puffy bud giving circles around it. She opened her eyes to stare down just to find his blue ones already looking at her.

Beautiful, he thought. Her hair was in a few directions, while her forehead was glistening with a few droplets of sweat and a few strands plastered on her skin. Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was opened, letting out soft and low noises.

"J-Just fuck me."

"No. After you finish your call, I promise to fuck you like the goddess you are." He continued to circling her bud now putting a little bit more pressure.

She was starting to feel that familiar knot in her stomach. Unconsciously, her hips started to buckle from the chair and getting closer to his face continuously to make that release faster.

"I know you're close, love. Come on, give yourself to me."

He started going faster with his tongue as she started to go faster with her hips, almost making a rhythm to match each other. Her fingers were so secured in his hair, giving painful stings to his scalp, but he didn't mind.

Not when his lover is a mess and he's the cause of it.

She felt all her muscles tense at the same time her legs started to tremble. Her hips worked faster and faster each second, trying desperately to get that release.

Only one last suck to her sensitive bud was all it took to unleash what she was searching for.

Every fiber exploded at the same time her orgasm clashed down in powerful waves. Her mouth hanged open, chocking back a scream that was forming on the depths of her throat. "John...!" She looked at the ceiling, her vision getting blurry for a second.

All the strength was leaving her body and soul as she collapsed back on the chair. Her legs dropped from his shoulders, and her hand left his now totally disheveled hair. Her chest was rapid with her unsteady breathing, her blood pleading for some oxygen. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to make a loud noise and raise suspicion on her friend. Although that wasn't necessary since her friend was rambling about the rumor without taking a break to breathe.

He separate a little from between her thighs, noticing how her arousal made all her underwear drenched and a few droplets falling in the leather cushion of the chair. His muscles tensed at the very erotic sight in front of him.

His hands made way to the waistband of her panties, slowly taking it off her legs and securing them in his pockets. He could see her glistening folds and puffy pearl now bare and open to him, inviting him for another round. And as almost tantalizing that view was for him, he kept his composure and was going to wait until she finished her call as he promised.

He gave a chaste kiss to her bud, her hips bucking as she hissed at the hypersensitivity she was feeling. He trailed kisses down her thighs to her legs, and then he ended with a final kiss on her ankles before caressing them one last time and muttering an 'I love you' without her hearing it.

A few minutes passed, and she opened her eyes only to find herself alone again, as if he didn't take a step into his home office where she was.

"So, what do you think?"

She tried to compose herself, wincing when she felt parts of her arousal that was left in the chair in contact with her sensitive area. She looked down, seeing all the mess she had made.

I'm blaming this on him.

She's pretty sure if he was still there, he would've said, "You were not complaining when you made that mess."

She could hear the faint noise of the shower running from his room that was two doors down the hall , maybe preparing himself before actually having his way with her.

She straightened herself, passing her hands through her hair, taking a few wet strands plasted on her forehead behind her ears. She accommodated her shirt, not bothering to look for her underwear since it was all ruined now. She was going to take a shower after this or join him.

She cleared her throat. "About the rumor...?"

She already heard that rumor. That took surface, and after a few days, everyone was talking about it. That caused a few problems between her and her lover, but he cleared everything and told her it was just her having a crush on him since he can remember, but she has been with other men to take money from them. Of course, since she knows Price is a man with a few dollars on his account, she wanted to have her way with him. But that didn't happen.

While a few professors and students find her like someone sexy and secure, Professor Price finds her disgusting.

Nothing like my little love, he thinks.

"No, silly! About the professor."

Her lips curled into a small smile, feeling tired about the way her soul almost leaves her body in that orgasm caused by the very one Professor Price.

"Yeah... He's not that bad."

part 2 here

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

I apologize for the shitty writing. I'm not good at writing these types of scenes + my first language it's not english.

Comments and suggestions are appreciated 🫶🏻.

#captain price #john price #john price x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #prof price #professor price #price smut

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tartaroooo · 15 days

Text

Charisma Etched on Strings

You despised being near Scaramouche. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

Electric guitarist!Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Notes: I swear this one has no set pov. It switches between Scara and the reader so I apologize for that. Also, I'm not that good at wiriting x readers *insert crying emoji*

Warning: Slight cursing

It was supposed to be a harmless guitar lesson.

So how the fuck did you end up sitting on this shithead’s lap?

“Easy sweetheart. Stop squirming," Scaramouche’s grating voice reverberated throughout the otherwise empty room. The words he spouts are pestiferous, enough to ensure a fist will land on his face if he doesn’t shut up soon. You merely asked him for a guitar lesson, not to be manhandled and subjectively humiliated by this sick bastard of a friend. “Get me off your lap!" you protest, writhing against his arms.

You want nothing to do with this.

Yet he cages you with that god-forbidden instrument of his, propping the black, electric guitar in front of you. You were effectively sandwiched between that handsome son of a bitch and his prized musical instrument. “You said you wanted to learn right?" he mused, his calloused hand cascading down your wrist to seize it securely, "This is the fastest way."

Lies.

You scoff at his pathetic excuse to justify himself. He’s just so full of bull. You know he was amused at your predicament, your thrashing and twisting igniting a twinge of sadistic pleasure within him. Scara shifts slightly, a lock of your hair twirled around his index finger, “Now stop moving so we can start our lesson.”

Without much of a choice, you reluctantly compelled to his demands. Your tantrums ceased, much to Scara's entertainment. He knows how much you detest your current dilemma and he couldn't help but take advantage of it. He wants to mess with you. To increasingly rile you up every passing second. He presses his chest completely against your back, wanting to see those cute little veins of yours pop out. His lips twitched upwards as he made sure there wouldn't be any space left between you two. He could hear your pretty lips part and verbalize a gasp.

A sweet, sweet treat for his ears.

He couldn't be bothered to give you a chance to retaliate. It was way more fun toying with you when he rendered you helpless. Leaning closer and letting his breath fan against the tip of your ears, his fruity voice resounds through your brain and into your spine in the form of shivers. "Let's learn some basic chords first," he murmurs as he slinks his fingers towards yours, hovering over them. Scara felt the smirk on his face expand, you sure do have a warm set of hands. He surely wouldn't mind if it was pressed with his all the time. Stuck in his wishful thinking, he absentmindedly squeezed your thumb lightly. He blinks. Ah, he was getting distracted. He clears his throat and he proceeds, "Just like in every lesson, we start with C".

He adjusts your index finger to pin the second string on the first fret. He does the same with your middle and ring finger, stationing them on the second fret of the fourth string and the third fret of the fifth string respectively. His loitering fingers aid in pushing down the strings as he's aware that you're probably not pressing down hard enough. It also helped restrain any movements that may disrupt the sound when plucked. You, on the other hand, verbalized a protest.

“Hey, that hurts," you hissed as you tried to lift your finger off. Even just slightly. But Scara wouldn't let you. He remains unfazed, unbothered by the fact that your fingers are possibly bruising underneath his. “It’s supposed to idiot, it's your first time,” Scara rolls his eyes and his resolve to keep your finger position doesn't falter.

You'll definitely punch him after this.

“Now strum,” he instructs and you've got half the mind to not follow through. Curse your curiosity though, washing away each and every one of your senses, dulling them and allowing it to control your other hand to strum the strings. It made a tune, not akin to those voice cracks of teenagers going through puberty or screeching bats when viciously searching for their next meal. It was a pleasant melody, a fine sound that signifies a correct mark. Scara smiles, watching in delight how taken aback you looked. "Good. Next chord," he was ready to shift the position of your fingers once more. Your fingers wouldn't budge though. You've reached your limit.

You've certainly had enough.

Your heart's been racing since the beginning and you were sure you won't be able to take it anymore. Not with him being this close. You catch a whiff of his perfume, a woody fragrance with a base of leather that never fails to drive you insane. You want to smash your head against the wall so badly.

You despised being near him. It was a danger to your well-being.

Because all you can feel is the warmth of his body traveling to yours, enclosing around you and morphing into the oxygen that you so desperately need to survive.

"This is stupid", you scoffed before he could move your fingers. Scara tilts his head in your direction. Oh? Were you going to object to him again? How cute. He chuckles and raises his brow, “What is?”

“Your way of teaching.” With a groan, you go back to your squirming strategy to try and break loose from his predatorial hold, “Can't we do this without being an inch away from each other?”

Scara merely laughs at you. ‘Why? Does the closeness bother you?" he teases. He would get closer to you if he could, but there's literally no more space left between you and him. So he opts to angle his lips adjacent to your neck and let out a drag of air. His breath brushes against your skin, parallel to a gentle caress from a lover. He was so sure he just heard your breathing hitch. Adorable.

“Is this better?” he smirks, heaving a drawn-out breath once more. You shake your head and writhe, flailing your arms wildly in a fit of fulmination. Scara can't help but grin at your antics. He doesn't back down, reinforcing his hold over you. He won’t let go. I mean, why would he? When you fit perfectly in his arms?

Your scuffle abated for a second and he caught the way your face turned into a stunning shade of red. “Aw, you're even blushing for me," he remarks, prompting you to resume your thrashing.

“Of course not! Why would I be!?”

Scara chuckles, his gaze never leaving you. "Why the denial? Anyone with eyes can see how red you've gotten because of me."

You wanted to wipe that smug expression plastered on his face. He knows that. He's just reveling in the fact that you couldn't.

He elevated his head to meet your twitching ears, ready to grace them with an assortment of breathy words bound to hit that sore spot in your heart. "There's nothing to deny you know? Not when I'm right here. Mindful and observant of how you feel towards me."

His fingers dragged from your jaw to your cheek, leaving a touch so sensual it's flabbergasting at most. He rested his hands along your cheek as he spoke with an allure that was sure to keep you on the edge, subconsciously thirsting for more. "I know you like me. You like it when we're this close," he continues, cocking your head up and exposing more of that tempting throat of yours. Not that he can see it from his point of view, but from the front? It would certainly be a sensual sight that would drive every inch of his self-control onto the edge of a cliff.

"I don't mind it though. I don't mind watching your pathetic descent into the abyss of my heart," he chuckles, hands falling towards your lips. It was quite the contrast, his rough fingers kneading against your soft and plump lips.

"So just fall for me, yeah?" his thumb rubs your upper lip in a circular motion. Honestly, he's tempted to shove his finger in your mouth. He wants to hear your feeble whines as he occasionally toys with your tongue, your erotic whimpers that deluges his entire sensibility. But he doesn't. At least not now.

"I'll be sure to catch you"

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matchadobo · 3 months

Text

KIDD; overheard

wc: 2768

summary: kidd overhead virgin!freader moaning out his name

warning/s: nsfw🔞, fem reader, v1brators, first-time-s3x, cooming inside, cunnilingus, thr0at fucking, fluff in the end

you never had sex. you're a virgin. and kidd respects that. kidd had been courting you because you insist on doing it the traditional way. he just likes you so much he does sacrifices for you. he's not the type of guy who'd go through such lengths for a girl, but with you, man he'd do anything to let him love you.

you wouldn't expect that a man of his stature wouldn't talk you into having sex when you two started getting romantically involved. kidd was, of course, not a virgin. a man like him, who's built like a fucking fridge, who's tongue brings him so many places, who's charisma is unparalleled, and his overflowing sex appeal. you admit that your boyfriend is hot, and you want to know what i feels to bed him someday. he's perfectly aware of your situation and he gaves you free reign of your sexual status, he never forces you to go all the way. it's just all about touching between the both of you.

it's mostly on kidd's end when we talk about containing it. especially when you don't fix up yourself around him on domestic days. or when you don a pretty little dress.

you'd be fooling yourself if you don't wanna do more than touching and kissing with him. each time he takes his shirt off and his happy trail shows. how his muscles flex when he's reaching over something high or hugging you. you can't help but be curious of how it'd feel if he have his way with you.

so that one night where curiosity won over you, you decided to buy a vibrator since you can't find it in you to ask the guy that's been courting you and you who has been constantly insisting on taking things slow. once you're all alone, you discarded your clothes and lied on his bed. you were staying with him for the night. you could've done it in your place but, the scent of his cologne on his sheets and the sight of his things made you more aroused.

as you spread yourself on the bed, you don't know the first thing about vibrators. all you knew was how badly you wanted him, how you imagine him doing the stimulation and not this expensive fucking vibrating rod. as you felt the splurge of pleasure, you were out of this world. your eyes rolled at the back of your head and your mouth muttered his name with the filthiest intent.

little did you know, kidd was on his way back to his place. he just got off the elevator and is walking toward his unit with a handful of takeout for your date night. he was exhausted from work today and all he wanted to do was come home to you and feel you. not fully aware of your act.

"y'all fuck yet?" heat asked over the phone. kidd tsked through the call.

"if that's what the hell you're gonna talk about i'll block you." he almost hit the end call if it weren't for killer taking over.

"listen, we're just iffy about this courting thing. you always start your relationships with fucking or something." killer calmly retorted. "plus, it's been three months and you two are kind of a blur, aye? don't you think it's time to take a step much higher?"

"let me tell you freaks somethin': name is the most precious angel that ever crossed this earth, ya hear me? she ain't some whore i chase to keep my cock warm. i want to have somethin' special with her, cuz hey, she's one special lady herself." he took a deep breath before continuing, fishing out his keycard from his wallet. "ain't it enough reason to wait it out? i imagine sex with her like a good ol' scotch, aye? longer you wait, tastier it gets. i know she couldn't resist me either, the way those eyes linger ain't a wholesome thing. all the more reason the sex'll be so fuckin' sweet once she's ready." he emphasized on the last three words.

you were too lost in the glee of the stimulation, you didn't even hear the beep of his door as he got inside. as kidd settled his stuff down and calmed down by his couch, he started to wonder where you are. he roamed around his unit to find you, only to hear faint noises of your voices. they sounded like whimpers so he started getting worried and hurried to find where the sound was coming from.

he felt his dick tighten in his pants when he heard you moaning out his name loud and clear. his grasp on the plastic bag carrying your food tightened, he swallowed a hard lump down his throat. he couldn't resist barging in on you.

he would nut right then and there. when he saw you wide open right before him, you reached your climax just as he went in. your scream resounding in the room. so you sat frozen with your legs spread, one hand on the vibrator while the other played with your tits. you stopped immediately and hid yourself under his sheets, your face flushed red in sheer embarrassment. "w-what the hell?! i-i- what the fuck are you doing here, kidd?!"

he sighed before saying, "in case you didn't know; this is my room," he pulled his shirt over his head, walking a step closer to you. "and you're naked," he unbuckled his belt, getting even closer to you. "wide open." he kicked his pants away the floor, crawling by the bed. "moaning my name unbefitting of a cute little thing such as yourself." he pulled the sheets you were covering yourself with. "this much is fuckin' rich coming from someone who insists on taking it slow. your words bit you back in the ass, aye?"

you were flushed red at his proximity, your eyes shakily alternating between his. "i-i wasn't..."

"wasn't what? fucking yourself with that thing and imagining i was ramming into you?" he cocked a brow, canines tugging by his lower lip. "baby, hadn't i told you that you can just tell me if you wanna give it a go? i'm more than happy to teach ya," he gave your cheeks a soft caress.

his big hands trailed down your jaw, fingers tracing the edge of your face, down to the column of your neck until he wrapped his hands around your it and pulled you closer. eliciting a moan out of you, his grin widening. "aren't you a filthy, little slut too?"

he kissed you on your open mouth, the grip on your neck tightening. "what were you thinking about, hm?" he pressed the vibrator closer to your clit after flicking the button on. "was i too hot for you? you want me to fuck you up so bad, huh? stretch this tight, little thing wide, fucking, open." he pressed foreheads with you after licking your lips.

all you could do was pout and curl up your brows, your eyes rolling at the back of your head as you didn't even know what kind of high you're in right now. "nghh- kidd- please...!" you bit your lip, clawing at his arms.

"please what? i can stop." he gently whispered against your ear. "i can take care of mine just fine you know." he gestured to his bulging length underneath his brief. you felt yourself choke at the act, imagining how he'd be like.

"n-no!" you responded, squirming under him. he hasn't discarded the vibrator but only made it even more extreme. "k-keep going... i-i want to go all the way, okay?"

"aye." he nodded, giving you a long, wet kiss before turning the vibrator off. he ducked his head down and placed soft, gentle kisses on your inner thighs, teasing your sopping cunt by his stippled pecks. "ready?" he stared at you, his hot breath tickling your folds. you nodded with pressed lips, bracing yourself with his tongue.

he languidly dragged his tongue down the line of your folds, not breaking eye contact as he watch you squirm with only just his tongue. how you sound so much like a slut just for him. he pulled your hips closer, drowning his face within your opening and the flesh of your thighs. he hummed through you as a response to your moans, vibrations pumping through your veins. he took it a notch higher and slid a finger in. you were becoming limp at this point.

but you wanted to please him too, you want to help him with that tent in his pants. so once you pushed his head deeper and you pulled on his hair, you came in his mouth. he sipped in your juices, slurping in your cum.

"c-can i please you too?" you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"i was just about to say that." he stood up on the bed, holding your jaw by his hands. "go ahead, love."

you hesitantly raise your hands, still looking at him. your fingers crept on his waistbands, sliding them off. his pulsating length sprung out, dripping with precum. you couldn't help but act surprise at the size of him even though you already know that he's phenomenally huge. he would already cum right then and there when he saw the enormous difference between the size of him to your face, how your eyes try to fathom how you'd fit that in your mouth and in your cunt.

you start to wrap your cold fingers around him, a gasp escaping him at your contact. you pumped unsurely, from his flushed head down to his veiny shaft. you opened your mouth and gave a kitten lick by his head, keeping an eye on him before swallowing him whole. he was so huge you gagged when you were just by the half of him.

his hands found its way to the sides of your head as he pushed his length further in your throat, relishing on the warmth of your mouth. you dug your nails by the skin of his hips, eyes watering at the impact of the head of his length touching the back of your throat. he grunted as he tried to restrain himself to let you adjust.

once you let go with a pop, strings of saliva trailed from his head to your lips. there were scattered drools on your lips, you wiped it with the back of your palm. "w-wait, i- you're too big." you giggled shyly, tucking your hair by your ear.

"yeah? sure you can handle it?" he rubbed your chin between his thumb and index, studying your expressions. "i assure you, it will be a lot fucking bigger inside you."

you gulped deeply, face heating up. so you cleared your throat, and prepped yourself to do it once more. you slowly got used to bobbing your head back and forth, the friction of your lips gliding across the surface of his veiny length. as your saliva coated his shaft, it became more slippery and easier to slide in your mouth.

kidd was cursing out words each time his cock slipped in and out of your mouth. he pushed himself further, despite your protests of drumming his hips. he pulled on your hair tightly, fucking your mouth in an unforgiving pace. once he came in your mouth, he left it there for a while, his cum dripping down your throat. you had to catch your breath as residue of cum and drool littered your chin.

he sat down before you,"for a beginner, you're goddamn amazing." he placed a kiss on your forehead then to you lips. as he kissed you fervently; his hands went from choking your neck, squeezing your tits with his palms, and rubbing on your clit as he spread your wetness from your cunt to your inner thighs. "let me spread you up for the finale." he mumbled against your open mouth which elicited breathy moans. his thigh and shoulder provided support for your frame as he fingered you open.

your hand reached over his cheek, looking at him with the most vulnerable gaze. he memorized how sinful you looked for him, how your eyes begged for more and how your mouth uttered the neediest response from his stimulation.

you pressed your forehead by his cheek as you approached your climax, clawing at his arms. he watched how your cunt clenched around his fingers at each curl and spread. you ended up breathless after you came.

but he didn't give you any chance to pause and compose yourself, he lied you down the mattress and knelt before your body. he gave his length a few pumps after spitting on it, he teased his meat on your soaking cunt; savoring how you furrow your brows and gawk at him. he spread your legs by your inner thighs, pushing your hips toward his so you two could be very close. kidd leaned down and pressed foreheads with you, "i'm putting it in, aye?" he asked for permission and you hummed. he gave your nose a little kiss before sliding himself in slowly.

"f-fuck...!" he stuttered, breathless at the tightness of your innocent cunt. he could slide in without any pain from his or your end, your walls just clench around him a lot. you too were drooling and too lost at the fullness of his cock, he's way too huge for you to fathom. "if you keep clenching like that i'm not gonna last, love. i haven't even been fully in." he panted, smiling against your cheek.

once he fully got settled, the head of his cock reached your cervix; that's how big he is. after adjusting, he began moving back and forth. it took everything in him to do it slowly, he wanted to fuck you stupid in a harsh pace. you reached for his neck, slowly lling him down to kiss him. "i-it hurts, b-baby. i-i it feels sore." you said in between kisses. "b-but don't stop, i-it feels amazing too." you smiled meekly, a single tear falling at the corner of your eye.

kidd felt motivated to refine his performance, your words were like a brush on his shoulder. he kissed your tears away before saying, "i know, bunny. i promise to only let you feel the good part, hm?"

as you fist the sheets and his grip on your waist tightened, you two slowly found rhythm. kidd adored how pleasured you look right now, to the point that you don't know what to do with yourself. you played with your tits, sucked on his fingers, clawed on his arms, covered your face with the pillows, and clutched your tummy as you grew near. he was doing all of that to you and it was the biggest turn on for him. he reached over to hold your face in his hand, then he rubbed on your lips, and finally wrapped his hands around your neck. you swallowed at the constriction on your throat, his firm hand holding you in place. his other hand was holding your leg that was swung on top of his shoulder. "you close?" he asked, hips unceasing.

you nodded, your eyes becoming swollen at the amount of tears you let out. "me too, baby. i-i'm- ngh fuck!" he too was lost for words, he felt you clench again around him, you felt him throb inside you; the vibration coursing through your veins. "do you want me to p-pull out?"

you didn't know either. it was your first time and you know the risks. but it was kidd. you want him to release inside, to keep you warm, to let his cum drip down your cunt. so you shook your head and pulled him by the neck. "cum inside, release all of it."

from your words, he came right then and there, shooting up ropes of cum inside your womb. "if we're gonna have brats, i'm done for." he panted with his forehead resting on your shoulder.

"me too, mini versions of you are a headache." you giggled a bit, kissing his ear.

"can i just stay inside?" he lied gently beside you, "you just feel so good and i want to sleep like this."

another tear streamed down your cheeks, what a goddamn softie. you nodded turning your back on him and placing your hand above his which was resting atop your stomach. "i'm glad you're my first." you blurted out, blushing afterward.

"i'm glad you're my last, shortcake."

you gave him a glare but he just giggled.

one last hc before i wage war with my exams 🥺 this is for tHE FREAKSSS 🤪🫣

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fairyofshampgyu · 11 months

Text

Why do you hate me?

Pairing: class president! kai x stoner! reader

genre: smut, crack

warning: sub! kai x dom! reader, use of drugs, sex whilst high, riding, humping, semi public, nipple play, corruption kink (?)

word count: 1.5k

“As you all know there was a big fight that went viral and was shared across numerous platforms between two students last week.”

Everyone excitedly burst into chatter and giggles, talking about the fight between choi beomgyu and choi soobin when they had—more of a hair pulling fight—over beomgyu stealing soobin’s last strawberry drink and throwing it over the fence.

“Please don’t film these kinds of situations or spread them. We’ll be looking out for the main perpetrators who filmed and spread this. It’d be helpful if anyone had any information. We should all be upstanders not bystanders!”

The whole class not so subtly, stares at Kang Taehyun, the said culprit and who filmed the entire fight, dealing out the whole, ‘exclusive’ recording to see who actually won for $20. He appears nonchalant though, sitting in his seat upright and also looking around the classroom in shock, feigning innocence.

“The two students have been dealt with accordingly and will both be in seclusion until further notice. Oh! Also the last concern raised with the committee was the littering issue going round. Please make sure to not leave your food or litter around and clean up after yourselves!” Huening Kai stood at the front of the class, enthusiastically and confidently delivering his speech as class president.

The students erupted into cheers and claps and whistles for their adored class president. Everyone loved huening Kai. It was hard not to when he was so friendly and good looking, greeting everyone with a wide smile as he passed the corridors, most squealing over his charisma.

However, you were one not so fond of his sunny disposition. You didn’t like how he adhered and maintained the rules whilst you actively tried to break them. You found his cheeriness and enthusiasm and the way people fawned over him quite irritating in actuality.

You rolled your eyes, turning to talk to your other stoner friend Taeyong about how annoying the class president was.

“With how much you talk about huening Kai, I’d think you actually have a crush on him or something.” Taeyong raises one of his pierced brows.

“What? As if!” You let out an incredulous scoff.

“I’m just saying you talk way too much about how you dislike him, never for a plausible reason. It feels like you’re actually obsessed with him. Your enemies to lovers arc?” Taeyong snickers.

“That literally doesn’t make any sense.” You elbow him in disgust and go on to chatting and complaining about something else.

Huening kai had caught your eye roll after his speech as he sat back in his seat, frowning and becoming overridden with confusion and sadness. He knew you had never liked him and he just couldn’t wrap his head around why, wanting to fix things with you so badly if he could.

“Oh! Kai!” The teacher stops him in the middle of the hallway, exhaling a breath of relief after finally catching up. “I’m really busy now so as class president could you go and look into some of the students hiding and smoking behind the art block all the time? We need to actually deal with this problem of drugs in our school. Inspectors are coming in soon we need to look good and not have them walking in seeing students smoking.”

“Sure thing, miss!”

“And make sure you report back to me the names of students there. Thank you, Kai.”

Huening Kai sighs, teachers always loved to dump their issues and own work on himself using it as an excuse that he was the class president and giving him way too much responsibility than he should have. He practically did everything around here and it could get quite stressful being so relied on at times.

Kai follows the trail of smoke he can see to the hidden part behind the art block. Everyone should be in class right now so he wonders who it is that is smoking.

When he makes it there his eyes catch yours, the only person here and he must say, he’s not that surprised.

“You should be in class right now with everyone else, y/n.”

You roll your eyes and stare at him with disgust, “Wow it’s the class president ready to ruin the mood again.”

Kai frowns, face resembling that of a kicked puppy and looking back at you with a pout, “Why do you hate me so much, y/n? Did I do something? Is there any way I can fix it?”

Your mouth parts in surprise, taken a back by how genuinely upset he seems about it. You can feel a little pang in your heart seeing him this way, feeling like you have to immediately change it and you don’t know why.

“Uhh…I don’t-I don’t hate you, Kai. I just-you’re not my favourite person in the world.”

He seems more upset by that, bottom lip jutting out.

“Um! I mean…I don’t know…We’re just very different people”

“I don’t mean to make you feel so unequal. As class president-“

You groan, “Do you ever give that a rest? Don’t you ever get bored of that?”

“Actually, it does get quite tiring and stressful sometimes being so depended and admired on by everyone, thinking that I can do everything. I guess you never really have though.” Huening kai comes to sit on the bench with you.

You pause in thought, placing the joint to your lips again, “You know what would make you feel better?”

“What?”

“This.” You wavered the joint.

“I-I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’ll make you feel good, no one’s around.”

Huening Kai contemplates it with a worried glance, eventually giving into the temptation of it. “O-okay…just to try though.”

Kai accepts the joint with trembling fingers, looking at you to see if he's doing it right and taking a puff before spluttering and coughing and you laugh a little.

It's not a long before the weed starts to kick in as you both take turns passing the joint and taking drags, laughter and giggles mingling with the smoke that curled and enveloped you both.

Caught up in the hazy euphoria, both your eyes meet, locking in a trance-like gaze and your eyes flicker down to his pretty lips for a second and he does the same until something comes over you and you can’t resist, quickly leaning in and cupping his cheek, smashing your lips with his.

Yeah, It’s the drugs. You’ve definitely never thought about this moment before.

You make out with kai in a frenzy that matches both your heightened state, soft lips moving against each other and you move to straddle his lap instead, causing him to look up at you in surprise. You grin before trailing the rough kisses on his neck instead and he can’t contain his embarrassed whimpers anymore, cheeks so hot and flushed as you caressed one of them.

You can feel him growing harder underneath you and you pull him closer, grinding against him.

“Y-y/n!” Kai yelps and gasps, scrunching his eyes shut at the feeling and contact of his dick.

You do it again, his reactions so amusing. With a particular rough roll of your hips, kai’s eyes roll deeply back, gripping onto your hips until he starts to chase it as well, hips moving of their own accord and rutting against you with his mouth agape.

Huening kai’s usual well articulated, spoken and composed self long gone, easily replaced with flushed cheeks and a mixture of stammering breaths and whimpers and moans as you both continuously grind and hump against each other.

In a rush you undo his pants, his flushed and thick cock springing out and kai shyly hides in the crook of your neck. You take his dick, pushing your panties aside and slowly sink down on him, kai biting at your neck and moaning out loud.

Slowly you ride him, having to cover his mouth with your hand from how obvious he was being as tears welled up in his eyes.

You lean to whisper against his ear, nibbling at it and thumbing over his impossibly red cheeks, “You’re such a good boy.” Which only spurs him more on and his muffled whines.

You deliriously bounce on his cock, sounds so sticky and obscene, removing your hand and attaching your lips with his again and drinking up all his noises, quickening your movements to get him to the edge, hands going up his buttoned shirt to roll your fingers over his pretty tits.

“t-think m’close…”

“Cum for me.”

And he moans even louder than he has, hands gripping on your shirt for dear life and head lolling back, body trembling as his cum spills in your pussy and you moan as well, both your eyes filled with a dazed satisfaction.

He rests his forehead with yours and pants heavily, you ruffling his hair as his eyes still flutter open and shut, suddenly taking in the weight of what just happened.

“I-I know shouldn’t have…b-but I liked it.” Huening kai sheepishly stutters, still breathing heavily.

You smile, sheen of sweat on your forehead and kiss him one more time, “Same.”

Huening kai decides not to report the person smoking behind the art block, instead finding himself frequenting there just to see you and smoke and make out, a secret new found place where he can relieve tension and stress.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s discouraging and sad when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨 Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write :) !

Taglist: @jayoonology @banggyu0308 @idontwantoeatspicy @lovelyhyuka14

#txt smut #huening kai smut #Kai smut #sub txt #sub! txt #sub! idol #sub!idol #dom!reader #kpop smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt headcanons #huening kai x reader #huening kai headcanons #txt reactions #kai x reader #txt scenarios

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iwaasfairy · 8 months

Text

┌─ “ ! „ MAGNESIUM

tw. noncon, blood, branding/marking, some pretty egregious dirty talk and degradation, threats, mirror sex, horror elements, knife play, manipulation, murder, little bit of gore, there be a dead body in here somewhere wordcount. 6.3k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a lovely lovely person whomst im so grateful for ♡ i reallyyy liked writing sakusa a lot so i hope you like it and it is what you hAd IN MINDDD!! this was such a fun commission thank yoUU a ton seriously! mwUah ♡♡♡ i hopeee you enjoy!!! kiSsES once again a million million kisses to everyone who helped read through it when i was struggling you're the bestest ilY

sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

It’s almost impossible to believe that everything led up to - this. You’re slumped against the car door in the back, and though you’re not knocked out, you sort of wish you were. Instead you have to feel the hard glare Kiyoomi sends you through the rear view mirror each time his eyes flick up as he reverses out of the street. There’s tension so thick that you can’t just cut it, but it’s troubling the air between you two like polluted water. Silence drags on until you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to warm up.

“Where are we going?” You whisper.

The man in front smoothly turns the corner, as an almost impalpable furrow moves his brow. It takes him too long to answer for your liking, as you shuffle in the leather seat, unable to get comfortable. “I don’t like fighting with you, but you always push me.” The dry tone and answer says everything his eyes can’t. “Tonight pissed me off, you know? I’m not ever gonna let you go.”

“All this because Atsumu complimented me?” You try, and when that doesn’t get a reaction - not even a blink, your hands clamp together. “He’s like that to everyone. He was calling Hinata ‘real handsome’ all evening.” Nothing. The Kiyoomi you fell in love with was a bit sarcastic and clumsy in his words, but he wasn’t ever cruel. Wasn’t ever purposefully standoffish. What seems left of him is only the brittle, icy void. You would’ve been better off breaking up days ago.

He also would’ve given the blond the benefit of the doubt.

You can basically feel the smile shine off of your face closing the billowing curtains against the golden light, looking back at the dark-haired beauty splayed out over your bed. You clear your voice. “So what’s the deal with your teammate- that Miya guy?” Kiyoomi’s brow raises a few millimeters. “He’s serious? He’s really like that all the time?”

“The whole flirtatious act?” Your boyfriend yawns into the question, before rolling over so that his muscular shoulders, pecks, and that pretty waist are even more distracting. It’s infuriating how good he looks. But you nod, and place yourself down on the edge - where he trails a lazy hand over the back of your hand. “Oh, yeah. He has this overflowing… charisma that you can’t help but get used to, and learn to appreciate.” He chuckles when you frown. “He drives me up the wall. But he’s a good guy.”

“Hmm?” Your pout is instantly enough to have him reaching around to pull you down onto him. “You’re not worried?”

You try to blink away tears, and stare out the window instead, at every light that flashes past. More to yourself than to him, you hiccup as you brush away the wobbly lines of heat down your cheeks. “You’ve been acting so— different.” He barely glances before turning too comfortably at the next lights, speeding up enough to make your chest feel tight. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I want you to go back to how you were.” That’s the only way you can put it. It’s like there’s nothing left.

Kiyoomi’s mouth corners drop at your confession, but he doesn’t speak. You’re not sure you want him to anyway. His free hand runs through his brushed back hair, long fingers sitting still against the steering wheel when they land. And they don’t move again as you sit in the quiet cold.

“Worried?” He repeats, calm expression changing into a grin. “Please, Miya fucking wishes.” You laugh when his lips start dragging down your pulse and he softly moans against you. “You’ve got way better taste than that. In neighbors - and,” his kisses get a little more hot and needy when his large hands glide down your body to grab your ass and pull you closer, “in boyfriends- and in perfume— you smell sexy, ‘s that new?”

You giggle harder, can’t help but get flustered when he gets so touchy. “I’ll get an inflated ego if you compliment me so much.” He shrugs, and positions you better onto his broad chest. But still. “How don’t you get jealous? I’m pretty sure I would if the roles were reversed.” His dark hair is splayed out over the pillow when he drops his head back, and those pretty eyes flick over your face for a second, thinking.

“I do,” he eventually breathes, “but not because of you, and definitely not with Miya Atsumu.” When you start giggling again, he frowns. “I mean, truly- genuinely-” You snort, and he stares at you with an affronted look. “If you wanna run into the egotistical, bombastic, borderline- pathetic sunset with that guy, I might have to take a long, hard look at myself. Wonder what horrible traits you’re dating me for.” His eyes fall back to you when you take a deep breath, and he goes a little bit softer as you nuzzle up under his chin. “You wanna leave me for a shitty dye job?”

“I don’t think so,” you whisper back. He looks much too at ease in the comfort of your now shared apartment.

The silence that once felt so comfortable, now squeezes the life out of you with all it’s got. Only after a few minutes, Kiyoomi’s voice reaches out, and the shiver down your neck seems to screw the icy collar down tighter.

“Y’know, I hate how that Miya looks at you. Makes me want to carve his fucking eyes out.”

About a week into living in Tokyo, you decide it’s not all that bad. Hauling along the giant box of fresh veggies and two more bags of groceries, you can barely look over enough to watch the elevator open, and hasten your steps. “Hold the door, please! There’s no way I’m doing the stairs today,” you sigh, and watch as the doors ping. You slide in just in time, and a deep chuckle follows when your arms start slowly folding with the weight.

“That’s … some collection you’ve got there,” the deep voice continues, “did I miss the call on doomsday?”

You manage to turn yourself enough to see the pair of warm, obsidian eyes staring down at you - soft curly hair freshly wet from a shower. The eggplants and pumpkins in your box start rolling toward the edge, so you shift the box onto your side with a struggling smile. “No, I- I like to buy in big batches and pre-chop everything to freeze. I don’t really love cooking so… that way I save- some time while still…” You fall quiet when he keeps your gaze without any reaction, and clear your voice. Most of his face is kept behind a black surgical mask, hiding what you imagine to be the rest of a handsome face.

But no one likes being stuck in unwanted small talk, do they. He nods though, right as you arrive on your floor and the doors slide open. “That’s smart. I’ll have to try that sometime.” The box starts slipping further. The noiret’s eyes go from your face to your white-knuckled grip, and then back. “Would you like some help with that?”

“Please,” you can’t say quickly enough, afraid that one wrong move will send the entire box rolling across the floor. It’s not like you to admit defeat so easily, but currently your pride could cost you a hundred on fresh produce, and— he doesn’t seem like the type to ask if he’d mind. Your neighbor doesn’t say anything, but his eyes crinkle a little with a smile. Aside from some very brief passings in the hallway, you haven’t had the chance to meet any of your building’s occupants yet. He doesn’t bat an eye when lifting the very heavy box out of your arms, and you fluster. “Sorry for the hassle.”

“No, it’s alright. I have the afternoon off - ‘s nothing. You’re the new 3B tennant, right?” He frees one hand just to slide his mask down when you nod your face towards your door. He’s probably the prettiest guy you’ve seen to date, strong jawline, full lips and an almost perfectly straight nose; dark curls framing smart, observant eyes. So not only is he tall and charming, he’s also hot. When you mumble a soft acknowledgement, he gives you a little smile, and you can’t help but feel a bit too seen. “I’m Kiyoomi.”

You think you like Kiyoomi.

The heat of hands shakes you out of sleep with a slight startle, and the surprise soon makes way for a wave of rolling pleasure mixed under a heavy layer of embarrassment - at the way Kiyoomi’s toying with your body like it’s his own, and the low chuckle he lets out when you let out a pinched whimper. One of his hands is two fingers deep inside your pussy by the time you can even blink the sleep out of your eyes, feeling the warmth flood onto your face. As slick gathers between your thighs, he pushes himself up above you, and squeezes your throat between his free fingers.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby.” There’s a sharp glint in his eyes that you can’t miss even with the low light, deep from within. His hand slides down the curve of your spine to settle around your hip, pressing you further into bed as your back arches when he curls his fingers without any mercy. Though you are leaving wetness all over his hand, the sudden invasion is still a little jarring, definitely when he starts sucking at your tits and bites down. “Omi, ow,” you breathe, and he only grunts as he nudges a thigh between your knees, spreading you apart. “Right now?”

“Shhh, just bear it for a bit,” he mumbles back, as his hand trails down your ribcage and forces your body to adjust to him when he hikes your leg over his shoulder. “Woke up so hard thinking of you, and- you were so cute just sleeping here next to me without a worry in the world.” His fingers are replaced quickly by the hot head of his cock, that is slid a few inches too deep right away, and your whimpering only drives him further. “Ah, fuck, there it is. Good- fucking- girl…” By the time he bottoms out there’s silvery slivers running down your face and you’re shaking your head as the ache has you moaning with pain.

But the dark haired man above you barely gives you any time to adjust, before he starts rocking himself against your center and rubbing himself deep enough to force your mouth shut. “You trust me, don’t you, angel?” He pants, stroking the inside of your thigh a few times, before starting a punishing rhythm that rocks the bed hard. The question takes you off guard, but it doesn’t seem like Kiyoomi needs an answer to keep going anyway, and you swallow down your whimper to hide your face in the pillow. He’s so big and rough and your body can’t keep up. “Oh, your pussy’s so fucking good. So tight and- warm, agh, fuck.”

Jutting out your lip into a little pout, you let out a little noise. You’re trying not to let the way he’s basically getting himself off inside you ruin your mood. After a moment, you blink up at him with wobbly vision. “Can you kiss me?” He takes a few seconds before the words register, fucking you harder each time he bottoms out— before his dark eyes go from your eyes to your lips like he’s having to debate it. And that hurts. He decides maybe against better judgment to lean in anyway, and presses his lips to yours with a low sigh, an almost moan that you suppose you have to be content with.

He pushes your knee up to your chest as he gets closer, and the heavy pressure of his body on yours gets even more unbearable when his free hand wraps around your neck and presses until you’re gasping out. Your boyfriend’s eyes glint as they flick all over your face, and a small grin starts to travel up his lips. “Don’t you like me better like this?” You’re too distracted by the pounding in your head to answer, and whine out his name as your back arches off the bed. And Kiyoomi pants as he forces you to take each thrust. “I like you a lot. Wanna keep you.” You throw your head back, and reach around his wide shoulders to pull him even closer, trying to lock your legs around his waist with a sigh.

“Shit, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he pants into your mouth as he rocks himself into you, forehead to forehead as your nails dig into his skin. You feel bad, but you can’t help but pull him closer by his shoulders as the shower water trickles between you two and makes the entire room a steamy mix of pants and sweaty touches. “So-” he kisses messily, making you smile as his tongue swipes yours, “-damn pretty. I love your body so much.”

“And me?” You breathe back, letting your body tremble in his strong hands as he rocks himself so deep inside you that it’s making you breathless. Your little whine makes him stare, and nod.

“Of course I love you even more— don’t be silly- agh, fuck.” You move one hand to brush the wet tresses of hair out of his face and let yourself get moved up and down him, thighs wrapped ever so tight around his narrow waist. He breathes your name like the word itself is lovely, and you can’t help but moan a long whimper of his name when he hits the right spot so perfectly. “You feel so good, taking my cock right in there- that tight, little pussy. Drooling all over me, huh.” Another kiss as you swallow your mix of spit and rest your hand on his cheek. “You drive me crazy. I really- ugh- really love you, baby.”

Your tits brush up against his chest. “Promise?”

“Uhuh, mh-ahg. Promise. I can’t get enough of you.”

Sometimes you swear you can hear the house close in around you with heavy breaths.

The door to your apartment already hangs open when you notice the noise. The low thumping that is only audible when you slide the headphones off, a vaguely rhythmic noise that makes the hairs on your neck stand. You slide off the bed with a little frown, and smooth the wrinkles in your camisole as you peer into the open apartment area - which is empty. “Babe?” The door wobbles when the wind passes through, and your frown only digs deeper into your face when there’s no answer.

“Kiyoomi?”

The noise is louder when you walk towards the hall, and fist your hands into the bottom of the flimsy dress to pull it down. Only after a few moments of thought, your instinct drives you across the hall to pull open the door of the neighbors’, a young guy who moved in after you two did. Sure enough, your stomach drops as the scene splays out before you. There’s red all over the floor, Kiyoomi’s hands, and most horrifying - all over Ryouta’s nose and mouth as the barrage of fists lands over and over again— and you let out a horrified gasp. The damage has already been done, the brunet lays back with swollen eyes and is no longer fighting back, and you’re basically stunned in place as his knuckles crack on his cheek again.

When you manage the next breath, you force out a call of his name between tears. “Hck- Kiyoomi- w-what are you-,” your voice sounds too tiny to be your own, but any more volume doesn’t make it out of your throat, “please stop.” The last crack that resounds before he stops is even harder than any of the ones before— and he gets up without a word, smoothing his jersey back in place. He only quiets a moment, before turning over his shoulder to look at you. You, wobbling toward him like a baby deer.

Honestly, you don’t want to worry about him. But you can’t help but take his hands in yours to inspect the split knuckles, bloody and bruised— as if this is some bizarre dream. Kiyoomi’s precious about his hands. They’re his dreams, his passions, and his opportunities all in one, something to be cared for, rested gently like they mattered more than anything else. And now they’re bloodied like animals at the slaughter. When you look up at him- there’s no regret, no worry or care or concern. Just a blank sort of faux-understanding of your worry when he reaches out to brush your cheek.

You pull back away to look instead at the young man on the floor, because if you think about it too hard, you might start sobbing. Your hands drop by your thighs and feel so heavy, tears drying on your face. “Why did you-”

“Got back from my run and he said he needed your help.” There’s a cold, detached resolution in his voice. “And I told him to forget it, and then he asked me what ‘the fuck’ my problem was.” You find yourself shrinking into yourself when his dark eyes shift to you, with that unreadable look in his eye once more. His hands are slid into his pant pockets with a soft sigh, but he still raises an eyebrow your way. “Why would another guy need my girl?” Ryouta’s been nothing but nice to you since he moved in. You believed, maybe mistakenly, that that niceness had extended to your boyfriend.

But staring at the poor, battered face of the guy on the floor— something tells you that even if it did, Kiyoomi no longer cares. It feels like really, he’ll take any excuse to lash out. Your eyes flick over his face again, before swallowing. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.” For the first time since you’ve noticed this new side to him, you’re truly scared when he eyes you down. You’ve been upset, and worried, and angry before - but this is new. As the only sound between you two is the shallow rise and fall of your chest, you try to walk up and wrap your arms around his bicep. “I love you, Kiyoomi. I have only ever… loved you.”

He frees a hand to run it over your hair, before leaning down to rest his nose at your crown. “I know you do. You’re a smart little thing, that’s why I like you.” His training jacket still smells like mint and eucalyptus wash sheets, and it does absolutely nothing to soothe the aching pressure that makes its way between your ears and squeezes. And the soft kiss to your forehead doesn’t, either. “Get back inside. I’ll be right there in a bit.”

Your apartment is barely a shell of itself now. You realize it -truly realize it- when you toss and turn in your bed and can’t help but get stuck on little things that shouldn’t matter, but they do. The sheets are different, silkier somehow. Kiyoomi got new toothbrushes instead of the old ones with dolphins, and your entire apartment smells just different enough to make it pressing. Slightly bleachy, and too hospital-like. A blue haze is cast through the window by the moon when you softly slip out of bed, ignoring the way a soft puff comes from your boyfriend. He doesn’t stir as you move, though his empty hand seems to reach for the heat you left. Normally you’d wonder if he misses you when you go, but instead the reach just feels possessive.

It’s like living with a brand new boyfriend all over again.

You don’t like it as much the second time, you realize, trying to choke down the bad air you’re breathing. As you wobble around in the dark, it’s hard to find your footing. The door clicks too loud for your liking when you brush it closed behind you, and slide down onto the couch as your eyes adjust to the dark. You feel like you’re hanging off the edge of falling apart as you look around the room— and try to think. That night when he came home, when he stared off into space and wouldn’t talk to you, your first thought was of another woman. Kiyoomi had never given you any reason to doubt.

He was handsome and intelligent and you were lucky to have him, but he always made it easy to trust him. If he wanted to be with you he’d be with you.

But as more and more days passed, small things got bigger. Not letting you call friends, not letting you dress how you wanted to, glaring at anyone who so much as looked up at you on the street. He’d never been so possessive when things were good. Still, you don’t want to mourn a relationship that isn’t even over yet. You cover your sniffles into your hand, and get up from the couch to go search through his jacket for his phone, or wallet. A stray bobby pin or earring, anything to make sense of the mess inside your head. You wouldn’t be proud of this in the morning - but your brain is eating itself alive. The apartment’s so quiet at night, and the old building pants and moans in the darkness.

The small closet is hotter than the rest of the apartment, more damp too. The jackets are piled high on the dryer, and though you shove your hand down every pocket, your search turns up empty. After a few seconds of turning the last pair of pockets inside out, you sink down into a crouch— and take a deep breath. Just a few weeks ago, you’d thought that you could see yourself marrying Kiyoomi. You’d spent hours by his side, convinced that no one in the world knew you better than he did.

A soft whistling noise sounds from behind the dryer, and makes you wipe your hand under your nose. There’s an old door to a bricked up stairway here, that you never got any use out of. Kiyoomi once stored some brooms there, you think. You don’t know what possesses you to slide your hands into the narrow space between the dryer and the wall and pull, but with some force- it moves. You strain to drag it aside until you jerk, scrambling up.

A track of blood.

Smeared over your normally proper linoleum, there’s a dried off-maroon that can only be blood, crusted onto the wood as a dark patch between the dryer and the door. Your chest caves. Instead of normal breaths, shallow gasps start making your entire body go solid and cold, and your throat dries up. This can’t … it isn’t real. Can’t be. Everything inside you tries to convince you that this is just a nightmare, but even as you pinch your arm hard, nothing happens.

Blood rushes to your bruised knees as you look around, trying not to panic too hard— instead put a shaky hand on the handle. It could be rusty water. A busted pipe. As you move at a glacial pace to open the door, it creaks, and you lick your lips. You can’t cry. You want nothing more than to explode into a dam of tears and unload, but it’s like your body refuses. Every second makes your body pump with adrenaline, until the door clicks open and reveals the narrow space - and in it, something that doesn’t make sense.

Blood pools on the floor, dulled, matted and a disgusting, sticky mess that has you gasping; only to hold back a gag. But in it, sits the slumped, unmoving body of your boyfriend.

The same boyfriend you were sleeping next to just a few minutes ago.

Every hair on your body rises when you choke on the smell, and sink down to press your fingers to his pulse— even when the off white pallor of his face says everything it should. “Omi?” You whisper, and when you breathe out, your throat closes up. You want to wake up. Your first coherent thought is that you can’t breathe; the next, to run. There’s no more heat in his skin, icy to the touch, and it frightens you so much that you jerk back and slam the door to the closet, stopping abruptly between the couch and the door.

It’s when the lights flick on that you do regret that.

Kiyoomi’s voice sounds deeper when you turn. As he stares at you, he brushes his messy curls out of his face. “What are you doing?” You don’t speak. Nothing but a shallow hiccup makes it out of your mouth, but you’re still holding out your hands like they’ve been burned, and maybe that’s enough for him to slide his eyes over to the closet. For a moment it stays quiet. So quiet that you can hear the blood rush beneath your skin, pumping with adrenaline you have no room for. Kiyoomi’s dead. Your Kiyoomi’s dead, isn’t he. “Ah.”

“I- I-”

“You weren’t supposed to go snooping, angel. You’re really making things difficult.” The noiret’s quiet calmness makes way for a slight smile, before he steps out of the doorway towards you. And you flatten yourself to the wall on shaky legs, but moving any more than that feels impossible. You’ve never been so scared in your life— literally frozen solid to the wall as your panicked hiccups send tears welling up in thick, childish bubbles that refuse to tip. He gives you an up and down, before pointing at you as he walks over to the closet, and sighs. “Don’t move.”

You couldn’t, even if you had the courage to. And you very much don’t. It’s so cold— you watch as he pushes into the small room only to drag the body you’d left there out of it. The heavy scraping noise of a limp body across the floor is almost enough to have you totally break. When he dumps the body in the middle of your shared living room, you manage to let out a few noises, strangled, pathetic noises, before you wring your hands together. “W-what did you do to Kiyoomi?”

“I am Kiyoomi,” he says back with enough certainty to shake you, and then smiles a little when finally the tears spill, and you shake your head left and right through your panic.

“You’re not—” is all you can squeak before he walks up to you too close and grabs your face, leaving sticky cold blood with his touch. Your cheek is almost held lovingly, but one glance up at his eyes convinces you that it’s anything but. It’s predatory, a mean glitter of amusement that plays in the darkness, and the harder you cry, the giddier it seems to get. “Let me go, p-please,” you sniffle, “let me go. I won’t tell, I just don’t wanna be- h-here.”

“Shhh, we might as well pretend I’m him still. You look so cute whining that name like it’s your fucking job.” He takes you by the hand after pressing a brief kiss on your forehead, and then sits you down onto the couch. And your chest still feels much too rattled to think about running anywhere, but when he pushes one finger into your mouth with a slight grin, you consider it. “Don’t know any better, do you?” He groans. You want to bite and run, and hide until everything stops pounding— but run where? Your boyfriend’s cold on the floor of your apartment. You can barely stop crying for long enough to take a breath, and the man above you pushes another finger down your throat. “Such a pretty little girlfriend I’ve got- look here-”

You do - can’t help it when the pressure starts choking you, and whatever frightened look you’re giving him, is enough to make him groan long and hard. It fucks with your brain. It’s still your boyfriend- looks, smells, tastes the same- and if you stop paying attention for a few seconds, it’s almost like everything is back to normal. It’s almost like you’re safe as long as you pretend not to notice what’s going on around just you and the invasive touches that are forced onto you. “Man, you look so fucking wrecked, baby. Say my name, won’t you?” His grin is wide and cheshire-like when he leans in and starts nudging your top down your shoulders. “Say ‘please, Kiyoomi’.”

He doesn’t move his fingers out of the way to allow you. Instead you whimper around his fingers, and try not to choke as spit gets all over your chin and his hand. “Pwea-se, Kiy-oomi.”

“Hahah, you’re so fucking nasty, getting spit all over me. Drooling like a fucking dog while you’re being forced— You like whining and moaning for me?” He takes his fingers out to wipe them on your flimsy camisole and stands to start sliding down his boxers, pushing you back towards the couch. The small grin changes to a tight grimace when you try to grab at him for comfort. “Ah ah ah, don’t think so.” There’s a fistful of hair in his hand before you can apologize, as he shoves you face down towards the couch and holds you there, cheek pressed to the rough fabric. Until your face is hung just off the side, and you’re forced to face the trail of blood that ends in a familiar face.

It’s horrible, and the harder you squeeze your eyes shut against the wave of fresh tears, the deeper the image seems to force itself into your brain. “Kiyoomi~” You whimper pathetically, and he hums in response. Everything’s too close, too loud, his touch is too real and too pressing and warm— burning you from the inside out as he yanks your clothing the last bit down until it hangs around your waist and he drags his fingers up and down your slit through your panties a few times. It leaves the wet fabric awfully sticky against your pussy, and your cheeks get hotter. It’s not your fault, his fingers work you in ways that always work. That thought has your eyes flicking open, but the horrific sight has yet to disappear. “Mh-hck,” you start up again, and try to roll aside as he grabs your thigh hard to hold you in place. “I wanna stop. I wanna stop.”

“Aw, poor baby. Poor angel.” The dismissive tone is cooed as a loving mockery when he pushes you down between your shoulder blades and yanks your panties the rest of the way down. “You don’t even know what to do with yourself, huh?” He then yanks your head up so you’re forced to stare at your reflection in the window, unable to see anything else. You can’t close your eyes to hide from it. Kiyoomi’s grabbing you tight enough to have you unable to move. “I’ll give you a hint. You lay here and you take it. You just listen nice and sweet, ugh-” He groans low when pushing the hot head of his cock against your entrance, patting it with a patient sigh— only to push in with a force that makes you jerk.

Why does it hurt so much? You wanna cry harder when he forces all the heavy girth of his cock inside you and the wetness dripping between your legs squelches loud, but your throat’s too clogged to. Instead only a pinched moan comes out, and he grunts when bottoming out deep inside you. “Girls who don’t listen make me wanna cut them open and eat their insides out. Would you like that?” The pull on your hair forcing your head up is making you lightheaded. That, and the stinging, uncomfortable tightness inside your pussy, squeezing and clenching against the intrusion - still isn’t enough to drown out the horror of those words as he whispers them.

Almost instantly you shake your head left and right, and your muffled ‘no’s melt into a childish cry. “No, nonono, Omi- ‘yoomi- I, no~ pleas-hck- stop. Wanna stop.” He pulls back his hips for long enough to really let you feel the ache of your walls as they cling to his cock, but then thrusts back in and bounces you on his cock. He drops your head back to the side of the couch, and places a hand in the middle of your spine to anchor you down under his weight.

“You don’t? I think you’re lying. You want to be treated like a sack of meat.” His hips make a loud sound when connecting with your ass. “You don’t like this?”

“Ow, oww, Omi- ‘hurts-” You’re fighting against the caving of your chest each time you exhale, and forced to take shorter breaths each time he fucks back into you. “Ah, ow.” And your pussy hurts, but the rolling of his hips and the stubborn, deep grinding is too overwhelming. You hate that you can hear the wetness of your cunt squeezing around the pumping of him inside, you hate the way he breathes above you, how you can feel him everywhere. It makes you sick. It’s all too much, and still it feels so fucking good that you’re hot in the face. “Mhm~ ‘m sorry. I’m sorry.” You blink through the tears to stare just a second at the trail of blood that he made from the closet to the couch— but you can’t make yourself look any closer. Instead you aim your eyes back at your reflection, and meet other eyes.

“You haven’t wanted to play with me much since I got here. ‘S your own fault that I’m all pent up now, stupid girl.” The steady rhythm in and out of your needy pussy is too much. It feels so good— and you hate it. You clench your hands into the couch as best you can and try to hang on, until your knuckles turn white. The noiret’s voice is back to taunt you, this time as his other hand reaches around to grab the soft of your throat and squeeze, shaking you back to him. “If you want your nice, reliable Kiyoomi, look- he’s right here for you.” You can’t. You can’t. Your tears well over in ugly rivers that you shut behind your lids, and Kiyoomi makes a noise.

You can’t tell if it’s a pleased noise or not, you don’t care. He rolls his hips, and your cunny accepts too eagerly. But it still feels so fucking good. And you can’t stop yourself from feeling like the worst person in the world. Your hands shake, and your head feels faint. Kiyoomi’s dead. There’s nothing else to know. Kiyoomi’s dead and you’re about to cum getting fucked— your whimper gives you away. It’s faint, but he hears it. “Hm, you don’t like him either now huh?” Instead of squeezing your throat, his hand moves to grab your tit instead, pinching your puffy nipple until you can’t help but make a noise. You’re so gross. And your pussy’s still pulling him back in, clenching to the pulsing heat as it fucks right into the softest part of your walls. “I- agh, f- I like bullying my pretty little cock sleeve to tears. So- f-fucking cute like this.”

He ruts into you until your belly feels hot and tingly, and you grind back against him on instinct. You’re getting so close, the pinching, the precise way he hits the needy spot deep inside you - you don’t even want to. “No, no- Omi, I’m- agh, please stop.” You really don’t. “I’m- I’m gonna—” But before you can stop it, your eyes squeeze shut, and your entire body goes tense. The tight ball of heat that’s been expanding all over your body with each pump, each time his heavy balls slap against you, explodes into a million pieces. “Kiyoomi, I love you, I’m so- sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s— all my fault.”

As he fucks you through the blooming heat and the white and black spots that play on your lids, he groans your name low and possessive. Your clenching only slows way after you’ve grinded yourself back against him and drooled all over the couch, until your tired body drops back into the plush. And Kiyoomi lets out a little chuckle. “Yea, it’s all your fault, stupid girl. You lay here and stay— I’ll be right back.” You barely feel the heat leave until it comes back, shoving some of the wetness from your sensitive pussy right back inside with a grunt, and a harsh tap of his hand to your pussy. The sting is sharp, and you glare through your tears as you look up. Not that he cares. “Here. Look. Kiss it.”

The sharp blade that’s basically shoved in your face glints when you hesitate, and suck your bottom lip into your mouth. “Come on. Or else I’ll put it to use on him instead, and you don’t want that, do you?” Your lips press against the cold metal, but your eyes stay resolutely on his face. Dark curls framing dark eyes and long lashes — you often told him he was the most beautiful man you knew. You wonder if he remembered it in the end. You suppose it doesn’t matter though, watching his mirror click his tongue.

“Good girl, such a good baby girl under all the crying and mess, aren’t you? Almost make me think you like me better like this after all.” You can’t answer, but the tears that wobble sadly along your waterline spill over in the silence— and your lip wobbles. And Kiyoomi only brushes a thumb along your lip, before shrugging. “No? That’s a shame. Because you are mine now. Mine. All of you.” He points the knife into the top of your leg, and leaves behind a mark that immediately wells up with dotted red. The immediate pain and sting of hot blood sears through your skin. “Tell me again what name you want me to write? Say it nice and sweet, angel.”

Your voice doesn’t shake as much as you think it should. “Kiyoomi.”

#sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq!! smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #tw.noncon #tw.degradation #tw.blood #tw.branding #tw.horror #tw.dark content #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.sakusa

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ninzied · 3 months

Text

and patience, and pining

in which alex is determined to flirt so hard that henry can no longer resist him. a modern au. based on the prompt: surprise kiss/impulsive kiss. ~1.8k.

Between the two of them, Alex has always thought he’d be the one to cave first.

They’ve both arrived at the same time. Henry looks stupid-good in his well-fitted tuxedo. His hair is just over-styled enough that Alex wants to mess it up, and badly.

How one man can be so like this is frankly upsetting. No, scratch that; it’s illegal, is what it is. Criminal law is not Alex’s domain, but he’s pretty sure being this tempting in public is a certifiable offense.

“Alex,” says Henry, and he blinks, at least some sense returning to him.

“Right,” he says. “Shall we?”

Henry gives him a look like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, which, the reception is not even open bar, so Alex can’t say he disagrees.

“After you, Your Majesty,” he says, stepping from the door with a flourish, then, “I saw that.”

“Saw what?” asks Henry, already shouldering past him with his chin turned up.

“If I had a dollar for every time you rolled your eyes at me—”

“Good taste still can’t be bought, Alex.”

“That’s ironic,” Alex shoots back, smiling and nodding at one of the guests as they enter. “Considering my tie is way better than yours.”

Henry lifts his hand at another in greeting, and even his wave looks fucking majestic, the asshole. “I trust you’ll be at least somewhat behaved this evening?”

“You sure that’s what you want, sweetheart?”

Henry’s expression turns very dour, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, why that particular look on him makes Alex so crazy. The more severe Henry gets, the wilder Alex’s impulse to kiss him, and the urge to just give in.

Alex licks his lips.

Henry takes a cautionary step back. “Let’s do try to make it through the rest of the night without much carnage, yes?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muses. “When you threaten me with a good time like that…”

Henry mutters something under his breath and Alex can’t help but grin. Maybe the night holds some promise after all.

He decides he’s going to have to walk that back after a while.

The music is decent, and he was wrong about the open bar, thank God, but he’s barely seen Henry since some crusty-looking Wall Street types whisked him and Pez away to talk business, and Alex is bored.

He wants to dance. He wants to dance—with Henry. And because that’s not going to happen, Alex wants to do the next best thing, which is to dance while Henry pretends not to watch, but he’s not even facing the dance floor right now so there would be no fucking point. He’ll have to think of something else. Hmmm.

Nora shimmies up to him then with two new flutes of champagne. Bless. “Still pining?” she asks.

Alex whips around to glare at her, wounded. “What? Nora, no,” he says. Is it that obvious? Fuck.

Nora shrugs. “You do the thing where you look him when you think he won’t notice. Both of you. You guys kind of have it down to a science.”

Alex brightens immediately. “You’ve seen him looking at me?”

Nora sips her champagne. “Right now, for example.”

Henry looks quickly away when Alex glances over, which is as good an invitation as any in his book. One of the suits is talking at Henry, who seems about as engaged as a teapot right now. Pez has dialed up the charisma, distracting them easily from Henry’s silence. But to Alex, Henry looks downright miserable in comparison.

Well, Alex is here to do something about that.

He plucks the second flute from Nora’s hand. ��You’re the best. Gotta go.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t pining?”

“For that guy?” Alex gazes at Henry again, then says, quite honestly, “Always.”

It takes exactly two minutes for the Wall Street guys to politely excuse themselves. Alex watches them practically dissolve their way into the crowd, like a creepy bunch of Mr. Smiths from The Matrix, and he suppresses a shudder.

The look on Henry’s face is an appealing combination of annoyed and relieved. “Let me guess,” Alex deadpans, “you’re so grateful you could just kiss me right now.”

Henry’s expression turns distinctly disapproving as Pez chimes in, “Be patient and Hazza might even learn to admit it someday.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Alex grins sideways at Henry, who’s flushing the loveliest pink despite also frowning. “You’re welcome for rescuing you from the most tedious conversation known to man, by the way.”

“Actually, darling dearest,” Pez says lightly, “we were speaking with potential investors in the foundation.”

Oh. Shit. “Do you want me to charm them back over?” Alex wants to know, jerking a thumb in the direction they’d gone. “It is well within my power.”

“Not necessary.” Henry pulls a face. “I would’ve felt dirty about taking their money.”

“I would’ve felt wonderfully about it,” says Pez. “But now that you’ve freed up my dance card…” He cranes his neck around.

“Nora’s over there,” Alex says helpfully.

“Brilliant.” Pez’s eyes are the definition of sparkling. “Ah, and I see your sister’s about to join her. If you boys will excuse me—”

He helps himself to the rest of Alex’s champagne before sashaying off.

The two of them remain standing there a careful few feet apart, not looking at each other. Not that it matters; Alex is so hyperaware of him that he could reach over without even looking and take Henry’s hand if he wanted to. He won’t, but he wants to.

Knowing that he can is enough for now.

Henry looks askance at him after a moment. “You’re making this very hard, you know.”

Alex somehow manages not to smile at that. “Am I?”

Henry’s face screws up in faux concentration. “Let’s see. You’ve been a merciless flirt, even more so than usual. You wore the tie I bought you, which means you don’t hate it—”

“What? I love it,” interrupts Alex, just to be clear.

“—and you just drove off a very lucrative, albeit morally questionable, investment opportunity.” Henry’s also holding back a smile. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to not kiss you for that alone.”

“You still could,” Alex points out.

“And lose your silly bet?” Henry straightens, adjusting his cufflinks, and that might be the single hottest thing Alex has ever seen. “I think not. We both know you’ll be the first to give in.”

It’s true, Alex thinks; he’s pretty irresistible, but Henry is also far more controlled. Still, there’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that Alex gets to be the one who stretches him to his very limit. The level of restraint it takes Henry to resist him is a pretty big turn-on, if he’s being honest. Even when Henry wins, it will be no great loss on Alex’s part.

“Considering what’s at stake here,” Alex says lowly, leaning in just enough to catch the way Henry’s eyes darken, “I think I win either way.”

Henry does smile then, soft and warm and way too tempting not to kiss, though Alex perseveres. “I think we both do, darling.”

“That we can agree on,” says Alex. “So, do you want to…not…dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He slips up, once.

It’s in a goddamn photo booth of all things, and Alex would feel like such a cliché if he weren’t so busy feeling annoyed at the fact that he can’t hold Henry’s hand or kiss him in front of the camera. Instead, he lets Nora and June wedge in between them, grinning gamely when they take turns kissing Henry on the cheek.

At the literal last second before the flash is going off, Alex feels Henry take his hand from behind, lace their fingers ever so gently together, and squeeze.

In the photo that prints out, June and Nora are doubled over in laughter, eyes closed, unaware. Henry has his chin tipped up, his face doing some smoldery thing at the camera, and Alex is turned, simply gazing at him.

He takes it before anyone sees, tucking it safely into his wallet because bet or no bet, some things really are too sacred to share.

When he shows it to Henry later, Henry gets the same lovestruck look on his face as Alex does in the photo, and that’s all he needs.

It’s the cake that finally does it.

Pez, Nora and June are all crowded around the same piece, and it makes Alex sigh a little wistfully to think about how much better it would taste if he were sharing his with Henry.

He can’t help it. He peers at Henry’s own slice, squinting. “What flavor is that one?”

“Strawberry,” says Henry. There’s a crumb on his lip, and Alex doesn’t mean to fixate on it, but he’s now gone hours without kissing his boyfriend and he’s kind of mad about it even though it’s also kind of his fault. “Do you want a bite?”

Oh. Yeah, that’ll work. Alex can feel the others’ eyes on them as he leans closer, fully expecting that Henry will yield to his instincts and feed him a piece off his fork. It’s not a kiss, but it could definitely qualify as losing the bet. And then once Alex has won, he can not only kiss Henry as much as he likes, he gets to take Henry home with him and—well.

He frowns when Henry only holds the plate out. “Here, have some,” says Henry, gaze lifting to his, then just a bit lower. “Oh. Hang on, you’ve got a—”

In a move that’s beyond Alex’s wildest dreams, Henry cups his jaw and kisses the side of his mouth, with just the slightest bit of tongue.

Alex grins as Henry freezes against him, realizing his mistake too late. “Thanks, baby.”

“Bollocks,” says Henry. He pulls back and sighs, licking the rest of the buttercream from his lips. “I’ve lost, haven’t I.” Then, accusingly, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

“I’d say I don’t kiss and tell, but.” Alex puts his hands on Henry’s thighs, using that grip to scoot their chairs closer together. “I am gonna kiss you now, so.”

“You’ll be getting to do a lot more than that,” Henry points out.

“Ew, did not need to hear that part,” June groans at the same time that Pez puts down their cake and says, “Please, I need to hear more.”

“There’s a legally binding document and everything,” says Alex, to Henry’s chagrin and Pez’s delight. “Drafted it up myself.”

“You two were pining that hard and you were already together?” Nora wants to know. “Actually, that tracks. Carry on.”

Henry has gone as pink as the cake now, but he’s smiling when Alex swipes up some more buttercream, touching it to Henry’s mouth before leaning the rest of the way in.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #usernuria #iuserzoe #userveronika #chrissiewatts #usersteen #(also if anyone does or does not want to be tagged pls lmk!)

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omegalomania · 1 year

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people bitching and moaning about fob "turning mainstream" as if that was never the entire point of fall out boy. that's In the goddamn dna of the band, it's baked into the ethos of why the band started in the first damn place. to be accessible to kids and especially to girls, who were often ridiculed and shunted out of the hardcore community. to be a gateway to bands that aren't as mainstream. to comment on the society they live in, as they live in it. people act like fall out boy "turning mainstream" was some kind of "betrayal" when from the start they were seizing on the trends of the time, putting their unique, unhinged fall out boy spin on them, and shooting them back out as a funhouse mirror. take this to your grave capitalized on the pop-punk zeitgeist that was big in the late 90s and early aughts and put their own spin on it: enmeshed catchy choruses with high-dexterity lyrical & linguistic skewerwork. infinity on high was basically a massive critique of the scene they were in - this ain't a scene it's a goddamn arm's race is a fucking thesis statement on what it is to be catapulted into fame in an industry that wants nothing more than a thousand cookie-cutter copycat acts of a successful formula, and fall out boy WAS the formula everyone desperately wanted to emulate. american beauty / american psycho blended sampling and modern hip-hop stylings with polished pop-rock and pointed those songs back at the snapshot of the 2010s we all lived in: commenting on racial injustice and the freeze-frame nature of relevancy. but even then they weren't doing it quite right - because fall out boy never does things quite right, they're never quite conventional, whether it's wentz's darkly confessional lyrics double-bagged in metaphor or stump's distinctive clear tenor or trohman's inescapable rock 'n roll edge or hurley's thunderous hardcore-punk-rock soul.

this band has always been too clever for its own critics, is the thing. but then, they always knew that. they knew they had a thriving fanbase of largely female fans so they were going to be mocked and belittled and ridiculed. they weren't quite right. they weren't quite so easy to market. pete wentz had to have all his hard edges filed off and cut down to size, skin lightened, literally whitewashed ("i feel like a photo that's been overexposed") to hell and back, even as he was marketed as the pretty boy of the band. and the other three members never even bothered with the spotlight: the soft-spoken vegan straightedge anarchist drummer and the wry, wisecracking, whip-clever guitarist who was more concerned with being the connective tissue than anything and the reticent vocalist who sang the words and wrote an awful lot of music but wasn't really the guy fronting the band. wentz's charisma carried the band, because the rest of them were really just some guys and never aspired to be anything else.

fall out boy is too pop. fall out boy is too mainstream. fall out boy isn't the real poster child of the emo movement. other bands are better. even within fall out boy's own narrative, they are repeatedly ignored, sidelined, and belittled, as though they weren't one of the only acts from the big 00s emo-pop movement to successfully not just survive the transition from the aughts to the '10s, and then later from the '10s to the '20s, but to thrive in it without banking on nostalgia. this band was supposed to be a flash in the pan. they weren't supposed to last and they weren't supposed to get big. they started off in joe's parents' attic because joe and pete were sick of how exclusionary and homophobic the hardcore scene was.

i think it's high time that people acknowledge how fall out boy has repeatedly succeeded where most of their other peers failed. cunning, clever, capable, and hyper-aware of the space they occupy in the culture surrounding them. that they are just as powerful, important, and artistic as any of the other bands in the scene that others might deify at their expense. that they deserve a hell of a lot more respect than they get from critics or hardcore punks who think they sold out. i hope one day they get that recognition. because they've earned it, time and time again, and the more i see people pushing back against that, the more certain i become of its inevitability.

#fall out boy #fob #*making poasts #this was supposed to be a pithy 3 sentence post but i kept going #just another Day In The Life of someone who sees a lot of garbage takes and gets tired #mostly i just shrug em off cause you know. what else is new. this has been going on since day 1.#but it saddens me. it saddens me that these guys are ridiculed for this still.#it breaks my heart that patrick isnt taken seriously as a composer in some circles because hes the guy from fall out boy.#it breaks my heart that people won't acknowledge pete as one of the most distinctive lyricists of our generation.#it breaks my heart that andy and joe are discredited and shit on within metal circles specifically because they're in fall out boy.#i hope they know that we get it. we get it and we're proud of them. no matter what.

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iovmegumi · 1 year

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sims 4 crystal legacy challenge

hello! here is a legacy challenge i created while playing the Garden Legacy challenge. i didn’t want to finish on my tenth gen and decided to create my own challenge, based on crystals. this challenge can be continued from a previous save or started in a new one! i also tried to implement base game options for those who don’t own all the packs! some gens do need packs but if you don’t have them, they may be skipped.

if you play this please tag me! or post your sims with #iovmegumi crystal legacy challenge

general rules ❥ you do not have to live on the same lot for all 10 generations if you wish. ❥ mods and cc are allowed! ❥ no money cheats ! ❥ i’ve assigned a colour to each gen so you may play with berry sims if you wish! ❥ i’ve decided that in each generation you may roll for offspring (rolling a dice or using a random number generator to decide how many children) unless stated otherwise in the rules.

gen one - rose quartz (pink)

a stone of unconditional love.

growing up, all you ever wanted was a family. leaving home young to start your life, you work on your career while trying to find the one, dedicated to cultivating the perfect life. you work hard to support your family and love your children so much, opening your heart and home to those in need of families as well. you cherish your partner and frequently find yourself going on date nights.

traits: family-oriented, romantic, perfectionist aspiration: super parent (PH) or big happy family rules:

❥ level 10 cooking ❥ level 5 gourmet cooking ❥ level 10 parenting (PH) ❥ master arts critic career or reach level 10 of painting while freelancing ❥ have four kids, one adopted ❥ marry your soulmate and stay together until death do you part

gen two - orange calcite (orange)

a stone for energy and creativity.

you had everything as a child, lots of siblings and loving parents. you took an interest in your house, specifically the furniture and decided that you’d love to create your own items. when you are old enough you begin learning how to make furniture and take an interest in repairing objects. though you grew such a passion for this, you found that you hadn’t really had time to make friends.

traits: loner, self-assured, maker (EL) or creative aspiration: master maker (EL) or curator rules:

❥ level 10 fabrication (EL) or complete crystal collection or both! ❥level 10 handiness ❥ level 5 gardening ❥ level 10 civil designer career - green technician branch (EL) or live off making creations ❥ have only one friend ❥ marry that friend ❥ complete aspiration ❥ roll for offspring ❥ fill house with furniture or items you’ve made

gen three - moonstone (white)

a symbol of light and hope and also encourages us to embrace new beginnings.

your parents were so focused on the world around you that you began wondering what else was out there. you grew a fascination for space and found the urge to explore outside your planet. you meet some different people, and even find yourself falling in love with one of them. how do you tell your parents that you’re marrying an alien?

traits: genius, family-oriented, clumsy aspiration: nerd brain rules:

❥ level 10 logic ❥ level 10 fitness ❥ level 10 rocket science ❥ level 5 parenting ❥ level 10 astronaut career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ have 4-5 kids ❥ marry an alien (if you have GTW) ❥ build & fully upgrade a rocket ship ❥ travel to sixam

gen four - sodalite (blue)

enhances communication and builds confidence.

having an alien background, you have never felt like you fit in. you dream of having lots of friends and living a normal life. you focus on trying to blend into society and try to be as social as possible, throwing parties and meeting new sims, even seeming to gain some attention on the internet too.

traits: outgoing, unflirty, party animal or bro and loyal aspiration: friend of the world rules:

❥ level 10 charisma ❥ level 7 comedy or mischief ❥ level 7 video gaming ❥ level 10 social media career - internet personality branch (CL) or entertainer - comedy branch ❥ complete aspiration ❥ roll for offspring ❥ throw 5 parties over the course of your life

gen five - pyrite (grey)

used for abundance, confidence & protection.

note: this gen requires Get Famous and may be skipped if you do not own the pack!

having a well-known parent thrust you into the spotlight from a young age and as you grew older, you found yourself loving it, wanting more. you dream of being on the big screen, your face plastered on billboards, your name nominated for awards. you’ll do anything to gain fame, even if it means use others.

traits: ambitious, snob, self-absorbed (GF) aspiration: world famous celebrity rules:

❥ level 10 acting ❥ level 10 piano ❥ level 5 violin ❥ level 5 guitar ❥ level 10 acting career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ become a 5 star celebrity ❥ have two failed marriages ❥ have only one child ❥ have a butler (VG)

gen six - amethyst (purple)

a powerful protective stone.

your parent was obsessed with fame, wanting you to follow in their footsteps. after seeing how little they cared about you, you decided to go in a different direction. your butler was your best friend and basically raised you, talking to you of how they used to love their family garden. you decide a quiet life is suited to you and put all your focus into working on a lovely garden dedicated to your butler.

traits: loves the outdoors, neat, vegetarian aspiration: freelance botanist rules:

❥ level 10 gardening ❥ level 10 cooking ❥ level 6 logic ❥ level 10 gardening career (seasons) or complete basegame plants collection or both ❥ have at least 3 kids ❥ lose one child to death ❥ be best friends with your childhood butler

gen seven - tourmaline (black)

promotes happiness and offers protection, inspires creativity.

losing a sibling was the hardest time of your life, and you found that your family never recovered from this loss. you hear a myth of a book that can bring people back to life and vow to return your sibling back to you and your family.

traits: gloomy, creative, paranoid or erratic aspiration: bestselling author rules:

❥ level 10 writing skill ❥ level 5 photography skill (GTW) ❥ level 10 writing career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ write book of life & bring back deceased sibling ❥ marry a bookworm ❥ roll for offspring ❥ adopt a cat (C&D)

gen eight - bloodstone (red)

for courage & justice, strengthens immune system & family bonds.

your parents had been stressed a lot of their life, working hard to bring your family member back. you were frustrated that they had to go through so much and decided to take it out on others. you grew to despise most people, working on creating enemies rather than friends, feeling a sense of justice for your parent. yet you still made sure to love your children, even if you may have not loved your spouse as much.

traits: mean, noncommittal, bro aspiration: bodybuilder rules:

❥ level 10 programming ❥ level 10 mischief ❥ level 10 criminal career (oracle branch) ❥ roll for offspring ❥ cheat on your spouse once all children are born ❥ get divorced as an adult ❥ get engaged again & leave new spouse at the altar

gen nine - amazonite (green)

a stone of peace, harmony, truth & communication.

the trauma of your parents rough marriage led you to pursue finding harmony and inner peace. you find this through yoga and painting, refusing to get a job so you can keep an eye on your spouse and make sure all your children feel loved.

traits: jealous, erratic, art lover aspiration: painter extraordinaire rules:

❥ level 10 painting ❥ level 10 wellness (SD) or level 10 violin ❥ level 5 knitting (NK) ❥ complete aspiration ❥ never get a job ❥ fill your household with children ❥ always celebrate the holidays (seasons) ❥ go to the spa once a week (SD)

gen ten - citrine (yellow)

attracts wealth, prosperity & success.

note: this gen requires discover university! but i have included a basegame option too!

your whole life has revolved around your siblings. you had nothing that was your own and desperately wanted to remove yourself from them, wanting your own success and your own name. you study and get a degree, priding yourself on your intelligence and work ethic.

traits: hot-headed, materialistic, overachiever or ambitious aspiration: fabulously wealthy rules:

❥ level 10 robotics or level 10 logic & charisma ❥ level 7 programming ❥ level 7 handiness ❥ level 10 engineer career or level 10 business career ❥ complete aspiration ❥ get a university degree (DU) ❥ own a dog & a cat (C&D)

#sims 4 challenge #sims 4 #ts4 #iovmegumi crystal legacy challenge #crystal legacy challenge #legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #legacy challenge #10 gen legacy #the sims 4 #the sims 4 challenges #sims 4 challenges #basegame legacy #discover university #get famous #sims 4 seasons #berry sims #sims 4 berry challenge #sims 4 berry sims

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